Matthew Dunn - Slingshot

“Indeed the Rubner case has been an almighty cock-up.” Geoffrey looked at Will. “Simon Rubner moved to New York six months ago with his wife and teenage daughter, one week after he’d resigned from Mossad.”

Patrick exclaimed, “He’s no longer Mossad? You’re sure?”

Geoffrey nodded. “Since then, the Israelis have been trying to ascertain who’s been compromising its U.S. and U.K. agents. Rubner’s been at the top of its list of suspects, given the timings of his departure and the first round of arrests, and the fact that the identity of every compromised agent was known to Rubner. Mossad’s been trying to track him down so that it can have a very blunt chat with him. A month ago it found out that Rubner had been in the States, but by then it was too late because he’d done his disappearing act. Mossad’s got no idea where he is now.”

Patrick looked at Will. “You suspected this to be the case?”

Will nodded. “That’s why I needed the call to be made.” He stared at nothing. “It was a clever setup. Simon Rubner moved to New York immediately after he left Mossad. Somehow, he deliberately made himself visible to the CIA, who then asked Geoffrey’s station to do a trace on him. The result suggested he was still a serving officer. CIA thinks for whatever reason that Rubner might be able to be recruited, and that cash is the best carrot. It approaches him using a deniable cover company called Gerlache. Almost immediately, it gets him to pass them secrets, then it declares that in truth it’s CIA. He agrees to continue working for them but only on one condition-that he can pretend to Mossad that he’s recruited a CIA officer. After all, he tells them, that’s what he’s in America to do. Terms are struck. The CIA gives Rubner chickenfeed U.S. intelligence. .”

“Congress would need to approve every piece of intelligence supplied to Rubner.”

Specifically, that approval would come from the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence-an organization created in 1976 after Congress had investigated CIA operations on U.S. soil and established that some had been illegal. The SSCI comprised fifteen senators who were drawn from the two major political parties and whose remit included oversight of U.S. intelligence activities and ensuring transparency between the intelligence community and Congress.

Will agreed with Patrick. “And in return, Rubner continues giving them gold dust secrets-the identities of the Israeli agents. But he does it drip feed.” He looked sharply at Geoffrey. “Correct?”

“Correct. The agents were being sold out one by one, over a five-month time frame.”

“And that’s what’s so funny.” Will frowned. “And smart, for that matter. You’d have expected the CIA to be getting intelligence from Rubner on ongoing Mossad operations. But Rubner couldn’t give them that, because he was out of the loop, though his knowledge of U.S. and U.K. Mossad agents was still very relevant. He used that knowledge as a smoke screen to hide the fact that he simply didn’t know stuff that an officer in his position should. Drip-feeding it to them was crucial, because he had to get the CIA to the point where it would break rules to keep him on their books.” Will placed the tips of his fingers together. “That moment came around one month ago, at which point he ups the ante and says he knows the CIA has got a huge team of analysts covering Russia, that Mossad is struggling on the Russian target, that he needs to know the identity of an SVR officer who the CIA is certain would betray secrets. Maybe the CIA’s reluctant to help at first. Maybe Rubner threatens them that if they don’t give him what he wants, he’ll clam up. Careers and reputations are now resting on the Rubner intel. Knowing that the SSCI would never approve the sacrifice of a Russian CIA agent, Rubner’s case officer and his colleagues secretly give Rubner the name of the SVR officer I’m now looking for.”

Patrick shook his head, his expression somber. “And Rubner takes that name and runs, his objective complete. You think Simon Rubner is the man behind everything you’re working on?”

“Possibly, though my feeling is that I’m dealing with someone at a much higher level. And I’m wondering if it was that person who approached the SVR officer and told him that he had to do a job for him or else he would tell the SVR that he’d been working for the CIA. That man gave the Russian his name, a covert communications drill for them to be in contact, and some very specific instructions.” He was now thinking aloud. “Shortly thereafter, the SVR officer does what he’s told by stealing an extremely valuable piece of paper and escaping to Poland. But a day or two before then, he decides to find out who he’s dealing with. He trawls through SVR databases and stumbles across one report. It’s brief, and contains purely logistical detail pertaining to a meeting that happened in 1995. He prints it off, smuggles it out of SVR HQ, and hides it in his home.” He nodded. “One of the names on that report is the name of the man who approached him, the man who paid Rubner a lot of cash to leave Mossad and set himself up in New York, the individual who orchestrated everything.”

He recalled the two names referenced in the SVR document he’d found in Yevtushenko’s house.

Colonel Nikolai Dmitriev.

Kurt Schreiber.

He was now certain that one of them was the man who called himself William.

He sighed. “It’s a real pity you don’t know the identity of Rubner’s CIA case handlers.”

Geoffrey shrugged. “Even if I did, sounds like they’d have no idea where Rubner’s at right now.” He frowned. “There is one guy who’ll know their identity.”

Will leaned forward, expectant.

“He’s one of yours-MI6. Up until recently, he was based in the British embassy in Washington, acting under first-secretary cover though he was fully declared to us, operating as liaison to my side of the fence. Specifically, he was the only Brit who was allowed to handle the Rubner intelligence.”

“How do you know his identity?”

“He’s always been listed on the intelligence reports’ distribution lists, together with the instruction that any inquiries related to U.K. actions resulting from Rubner’s intel should be directed to him.”

Will’s mind raced. Such an individual would have made it his business to ensure that the Rubner intelligence was accurate, and that meant he would certainly have interacted with his CIA handlers. “What’s his name?”

Geoffrey drummed his fingers, clearly trying to remember. “Got it. Like the Greek island-Rhodes. Peter Rhodes.”

“Rhodes!” Patrick’s face flushed red with anger.

Will’s heart sank. “You’re sure?”

Geoffrey nodded. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Will didn’t answer.

Nor did Patrick.

Both were in shock.

Rhodes had never mentioned his involvement in the Rubner case.

And such involvement could only mean one thing.

Peter Rhodes was the traitor who’d supplied the CIA unit with his name and address.

Dark clouds hung over Frankfurt as Kronos walked along Tongesgasse carrying a canvas overnight bag. He entered an Internet cafe, ordered a coffee, and purchased thirty minutes of Web use. Choosing a terminal at the far end of the establishment, he ensured that his screen could not be seen by any of the cafe’s other occupants, then logged on.

Within seconds, he was staring at Holland’s AIS air traffic control website. He clicked Online Flight Plan, then filled in the user name and password-information he’d stolen from the KLM pilot he’d followed from the Frankfurt airport to the city’s Westin Grand hotel. The man had been sleeping while Kronos had sat on the other side of the room and used the pilot’s BlackBerry to load the AIS website, click on the Forgot Password button, read the subsequent AIS e-mail reminding him of his password details, and then delete the mail.