An Unwelcome Mole Rears its Ugly Head
Chapter 15
The fools! Vlad shouted to his bedroom walls. He’d just finished reading a most interesting, yet disturbing email clandestinely sent by a trusted confidante of impeccable reliability: his son Vasily.
His son had followed in his footsteps by joining the SVR and perhaps shared his pathology. Vlad wasn’t certain, but there had been subtle hints of such a lurking persona and penchant for violence when they met and spoke. He and Vlad had reconciled their differences some years ago after the death of Vasily’s mother. They’d grown very close over time, forming what some might call an unnatural bond between them. Those some might also say that a rotten apple never falls far from a decayed tree. Like his father, Vasily lacked any empathy for his fellow man, although he could be charming when it suited his purposes. Otherwise, he was devoid of any real feelings. He probably lacked a conscience too, another shared characteristic with his father.
Nonetheless, Vlad would regale his son with stories of his long career with the KGB, often forgetting to mention the gory parts of his trade-in-stock work for the spy agency. In turn, Vasily would share the latest SVR gossip about the jockeying for power in the top echelons of the organization. While cordial and committed, it wasn’t a loving relationship in the slightest.
While estranged from his father, he’d legally changed his name and never mentioned his father to anyone, including the investigators conducting the background checks to determine his suitability and loyalty for employment with the SVR. He’d simply say he didn’t know his father and assumed he was dead. The vetting process didn’t pick up on the discrepancy and his mother backed his story of being abandoned at an early age. And she went to her grave without revealing the truth. But there was a ring of truth to the fable since Vlad had walked out on his family many years ago and never looked back. With his aberrant, personality disorder, it didn’t bother him one way or another.
Vasily’s warning was clear. The Russians and Americans had teamed up to stop him and the terrorist attacks he directed. Vlad found the odd relationship amusing and a bit bizarre since the two countries continued to vie with each other for prominence on the world stage, even after the end of the so-called Cold War. The war had never gone cold in his mind, at least when it came to espionage and covert actions. And those things had kept him nicely employed well after his retirement from the KGB. His peculiar talents had been in demand and his nasty business had thrived since then.
He’d have to be more circumspect in his communications, redoubling his security precautions and keeping the number of emails to a minimum. He wished he had the equipment to send and receive microburst messages over predetermined radio waves, but that was impossible under the circumstances. So emails would have to suffice.
He knew Vasily would immediately alert him to any imminent danger to his safety and he’d made provisions in the event his hideout was discovered by the authorities. Although he’d miss the Seychelles if he was forced to flee, he knew nothing lasted forever, especially for a former spy and now terrorist wanted by the governments of the world.
His collection of passports would ensure his safe escape if needed. A couple of them were genuine, having pick-pocketed unwary tourists who resembled him. Even without a photo substitution, they’d likely hold up to casual scrutiny, especially when used to enter and exit third world countries where security protocols were lax to nonexistent. He also had two forged passports with his own photo that would stand up to the most rigorous examination. They were masterly done by a former colleague and could pass muster for the genuine article. So, he could now pick and choose his personas at will to fool the authorities and travel freely. His own passport had been discarded years ago, just like his past life.
However, a passport was only one aspect of creating a credible legend. So-called pocket litter was needed to back it up in case he was stopped and questioned. That entailed collecting all the detritus that went into one’s wallet: credit cards, driving license, a photo or two of loved ones and the like. All the items had to appear worn, with a photo taped together or a library card torn at its corner. It was all about the appearance of authenticity and nothing more.
Vlad turned on his laptop and employed the best intelligence tool in the world: Google. He then spent the next several hours researching his target. Despite Vasily’s worrisome message, he was pleased with the way and pace of his project was going.