BooksBarbecue
Back The Asset
Chapters (86)
  1. Foreword
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. Afterword

“That woman with him. What happens to her? She’s not your friend?”

29

Tatyana woke to the chime on her phone. She checked the time. It was an hour since she’d set it. She’d slept right through.

It took more willpower than usual for her to get up from the bed. She wanted nothing more than to close the curtains and call it a day. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something.

She opened the file system on her phone and checked to see what Igor had sent. The last minute change of target was a minor snag, she was so used to these missions she barely looked at the research. Her job was to play dumb and drop her panties. In general, the less she knew, the better.

Her original target, the trade negotiator, had been a sixty-five year old Canadian. The new guy was a fifty-eight year old American. It made no difference to Tatyana. It wasn’t a date. He was an advisor to a senator from Rhode Island. That definitely bumped him up the priority ladder. He’d been involved in negotiating the latest round of sanctions against Russia, which explained the top floor’s interest.

There was nothing the top dogs hated more than sanctions. Even the country’s most powerful oligarchs had seen their net worth, and foreign holdings, drop precipitously as a result. Combined with the recent drops in the price of oil, Russian billionaires were in for a rough Christmas.

The target’s name was Sheldon Goldin and he seemed a little puritanical for Tatyana’s liking. Happily married for twenty-nine years, he was an ardent church-goer, attending Trinity Episcopal in Newport every Sunday morning. He had three daughters in their twenties, all in Ivy League schools, all dating eligible bachelors from prestigious families.

None of them would want to see daddy getting his freak on.

Tatyana knew the value of a target like that. The GRU wanted him not just for the information he held directly, but as a potential means of tapping the senator. Planting spyware, avoiding firewalls, hacking email servers, those were all things that got a lot easier to do when you had someone on the inside.

Not that any of that would be her job. She would make sure he got caught on camera with his pants down. What the top floor did with it was up to them.

She knew a lot of what she did got wasted. If a target resisted, if he called their bluff, there wasn’t a whole lot they could do to him. They could send the footage to the man’s wife, or leak it to a local political opponent, but the GRU had to be careful not to overplay its hand. If people caught on that there was a concerted attack, they’d react. They’d adapt. And kompromat would lose its effectiveness.