Full Black - Brad Thor [98]
“The first man, the one who is on vacation in Russia, he was KGB Ninth Directorate. He operated the Moscow VIP subway. The man in the nursing home was in the Fifth Directorate. He dealt with censorship of writers and filmmakers. I still find it ironic that he ended up retiring in Hollywood.”
Lavrov raised good points. “Tell me about the third man,” said Ralston.
“His name is Yaroslav Yatsko. Former Russian FSB and current Russian organized crime figure here in Los Angeles.”
“What was his position with the FSB?”
“He was with the First Chief Directorate of the KGB, actually. He specialized in foreign espionage and stayed on through the transition from KGB to FSB. From what I understand, he continued with foreign espionage activities before moving to California.”
Ralston had to wonder what the hell was wrong with the American government that they let these kinds of people into the United States. “What’s he doing now? What kinds of things is he involved with?”
Lavrov shrugged. “Extortion, stock fraud, antiquities scams, identity theft, credit card fraud, money laundering, counterfeiting, human trafficking from Mexico, arms dealing, and film piracy. Take your pick.”
“What about murder for hire?”
“Violence and murder are the sine quibus non of Russian organized crime,” offered Sevan. “Without those two ingredients, there would be no Russian organized crime.”
“Yaroslav Yatsko,” said Lavrov, “keeps a very quiet, low profile. He hides behind multiple legitimate businesses in order to justify his income and comfortable lifestyle.”
“But is he known to carry out murders for hire?” repeated Ralston.
“Specifically? No. But it is rumored throughout the community that he has facilitated several high-profile assassinations in Mexico. Allegedly, he has carried these attacks out on behalf of warring cartels, politicians, and business leaders.”
“That’s Mexico. I’m talking about here. What about in the U.S.?”
Lavrov shook his head.
“Then I’ll want the address of that nursing home, too. It looks like I’m going to be busy.”
“That might not be necessary,” replied Sevan.
“Why not?”
“Because of the Mexico rumors,” said Lavrov.
“What about them?”
“Most of the victims had exceptional security. They had bodyguards, alarm systems, dogs; all of the things you would expect of the wealthy and powerful, especially in a Third World country like Mexico. Supposedly, that is Yaroslav Yatsko’s claim to fame. He can get around anyone’s security.”
“And how did he do that?”
“By eschewing local talent and bringing in his own people from Russia,” said Lavrov. “He is known for only using the best. He only hires Spetsnaz.”
CHAPTER 41
NORTHERN VIRGINIA
If his cell phone hadn’t rung, Harvath could have easily slept another several hours. Fumbling for the device on his nightstand, he activated the call and brought the phone to his ear. “Harvath,” he said, looking for his watch to see what time it was.
“Scot?” asked a woman’s voice on the other end. “It’s Riley. Did I wake you up?”
“No,” he lied, sitting up in bed and trying to focus. “I’m still trying to beat back the jet lag. What’s up?”
“I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“For Massachusetts.”
Harvath knew who she was talking about, but not what. “I don’t understand.”
“His condition. Remember when I told you the Tasers weren’t designed for what you wanted to do?” she said.
“But it worked.”
“It did, but I thought it was just dumb luck, or maybe the hand of God, I don’t know, but I wasn’t ready to believe you could restart someone’s heart with a Taser—no matter how many times you zapped him. Well, we’ve been running tests here and it turns out that our patient has something called WPW or Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome. It has to do with having an extra, abnormal electrical pathway in the heart. Symptoms often don’t appear