Free Sea of Lies: An Espionage Thriller by Bradley West Page B

have asylum for another four-plus months, until the end of July, but they could kick me out anytime. Alternatively, they could lock me up. They want what I took before they let me go.”
    “So give it to them.”
    “I don’t have a copy. China’s goons stripped me clean before they let me out of Hong Kong ahead of the CIA snatch team. I landed here with the clothes on my back and a couple of wiped laptops.”
    “What about those journalists? You gave them copies.”
    “Dad, every intelligence agency in the world was after those files. MI6 and the CIA told them they would be killed for what I’d given them. To their credit, Greg, Marjorie and Alex destroyed their copies in front of witnesses. They were as paranoid as I was. The original plan was that, if something happened to me, each journalist would publish his or her copy. This was to keep the US from killing me. But now that I’m in Russia, the reverse is true. If my friends still had copies with instructions to release them on my death, the Russians would have pulled the trigger long ago.”
     “So why give you asylum? Russia caught a lot of heat for that.”
    “Putin loves jabbing a stick in the US’s eye. And the FSB seems convinced that there’s a fourth copy.”
    “Is there?”
    “There was, but I hid it and it’s not there anymore. I don’t know who picked it up. I’m probing old channels.”
    “Oh, Lord, no. You don’t mean you told—”
    “‘Maybe’ is all I know. Maybe he has it. Maybe he’ll give it to me if I ask, but I just don’t know.”
    “If it’s who I think it is, you can’t trust him.”
    “Where’s that coming from?”
    “I’ll tell you the whole story someday. But not now. Here are my notes of what Director Chumakov said about ninety minutes ago.” He read, “Mr. Watermen, we’ve paid for your air ticket and issued a forty-eight-hour visa because we believe you can talk sense into Mark. He needs to tell us where we can find certain information. Once we obtain this information, we will fly him anywhere in the world. If we don’t receive the information, he faces imprisonment as a foreign intelligence officer. We will hold your passport and ticket for safekeeping. Have a pleasant stay.”
    His father looked at him like he was sixteen again and had been caught violating curfew. “You and I need to have a private talk. Is there any place here that isn’t bugged?”
    “Are you kidding? We can pass notes written under a blanket. That’s about it.”
    “Go get a bedspread and something to write on.”
    Twenty minutes later, his father was burning paper over the toilet bowl while Watermen walked over to the 1980s telephone handset and picked up the receiver. Without dialing, he said, “Chumakov, I will tell you who has the fourth copy, but I want out of this country.”
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
    PITCH PERFECT
    SUNDAY, MARCH 9, RANGOON
     
    Hecker was on the line. “Hanny? Where are you? Look, I need you to work out a twenty-four-by-seven sentry rotation for the safe house. I want an armed guard on the gate until the bad guy is in custody. Let’s assume that if our location isn’t already blown, it will be by tomorrow. We’ll stay put and hope for the best. If we attract unwanted attention, we’ll move to the smaller safe house, Hogwarts. Be sure to get hold of a half-dozen fire extinguishers. These guys love playing with matches. Out.”
    Hecker turned and looked at Ryder in the back seat. “Ask our police friends to focus one hundred percent on either looking for Teller or checking the port, airport and roads toward Thailand. Bob and I will cover the ambassador. Look for those K-Line containers.”
    Nolan wasn’t so certain now after previously being confident that the containers were the key. “Teller’s smart. I can see him driving three empty containers around Rangoon while the real prize is in a shoebox or blindfolded in the trunk of a car somewhere else. We need a handle on what we’re looking for. Can you