sitting in a different part of the suite facing each other, mugs of black coffee on the floor between them.
“Let’s think through the possibilities.” Sentinel took a swig of the drink; his expression remained one of anger but also of focus. “The MI6 officer gets approached by the KGB and is told that they’ll reveal his affair to British authorities unless he cooperates. He should have told them to go to hell, but he’s young and scared.”
“So he gives them the location of the houses and then flees to London before they get their hooks further into him.”
“Normally”—Sentinel placed his mug down—“the KGB would’ve pursued him and tried to run him out of London, but—”
“The Soviet Union collapses, the Russian element of the KGB is transformed into the SVR, agendas change, and somewhere during that process the MI6 officer falls through the cracks.”
Sentinel nodded. “Or a decision is made that he’s of no further use to the revamped Russia—too junior, too out of reach.”
“Either way, they went after you and got you at one of your safe houses.” Will tried to picture that moment. Even for a veteran like Sentinel, it would have been a terrifying experience.
Sentinel looked away for a moment; his next words were quiet. “I heard them come into the building, looked out the windows, saw that I was completely surrounded, and knew that all was lost. So I put—” He sighed.
“You put your handgun to your head but couldn’t pull the trigger.”
Sentinel kept staring at nothing. “To this day, I still can’t decide which of the two was the more cowardly.”
Will leaned forward. “You can’t think that way. It was an uncertain situation.” He had no idea what he’d have done in similar circumstances.
“The situation was very certain. I had too many secrets and the knowledge of too many Russian MI6 agents who would have been executed if I’d buckled under torture.”
“But you kept your mouth shut.”
“I knew that if I told them what they wanted to know, I’d be walked out into a courtyard and executed by firing squad.” Sentinel gripped his hands together. “The only reason I managed to keep my mouth shut was that I steadfastly refused to let the Russians do to me what I couldn’t do to myself.” He looked at Will; his demeanor changed. “Back to work. Let’s fast-forward to two years ago. Razin was now one of my agents and had decided that he must know the identity of my other agents.”
“Though he knew he’d never get that information from you, so he wondered if it was possible to get it from another MI6 officer.”
“A person who at some point in his career had betrayed secrets to the USSR or Russia.”
“He discreetly tasked his contacts in Russian intelligence to try to find out if such a person existed.”
Sentinel agreed. “One of those contacts was an FSB officer named Filip Chulkov. He had clearance to read the closed, top secret MI6 double-agent files.”
“And in one of those files he read about the junior MI6 officer.”
“Chulkov was a stupid man, but even he would have instantly recognized the name in the file.”
“Though it seems his stupidity ultimately got the better of him. Instead of taking the file and the MI6 name to his FSB superiors so that they could reopen the case, he took it straight to Razin.”
“Who thanked him and shot him in the head.”
Will took a sip of his coffee. “Razin approaches the Head of Moscow Station and—”
“Blackmails him to get the names of my agents.”
Though partly conjecture, their theory made sense to Will. But it didn’t help them beyond explaining how Razin had the names of the tier-1 agents. He felt overwhelming frustration. “We can’t warn off your agents.”
“I know that!” Sentinel sounded equally frustrated. “If we do, we take them out of the game. And if that happens, we’ll get the same result we would if they’re killed—a protracted war and all that will follow
“Let’s think through the possibilities.” Sentinel took a swig of the drink; his expression remained one of anger but also of focus. “The MI6 officer gets approached by the KGB and is told that they’ll reveal his affair to British authorities unless he cooperates. He should have told them to go to hell, but he’s young and scared.”
“So he gives them the location of the houses and then flees to London before they get their hooks further into him.”
“Normally”—Sentinel placed his mug down—“the KGB would’ve pursued him and tried to run him out of London, but—”
“The Soviet Union collapses, the Russian element of the KGB is transformed into the SVR, agendas change, and somewhere during that process the MI6 officer falls through the cracks.”
Sentinel nodded. “Or a decision is made that he’s of no further use to the revamped Russia—too junior, too out of reach.”
“Either way, they went after you and got you at one of your safe houses.” Will tried to picture that moment. Even for a veteran like Sentinel, it would have been a terrifying experience.
Sentinel looked away for a moment; his next words were quiet. “I heard them come into the building, looked out the windows, saw that I was completely surrounded, and knew that all was lost. So I put—” He sighed.
“You put your handgun to your head but couldn’t pull the trigger.”
Sentinel kept staring at nothing. “To this day, I still can’t decide which of the two was the more cowardly.”
Will leaned forward. “You can’t think that way. It was an uncertain situation.” He had no idea what he’d have done in similar circumstances.
“The situation was very certain. I had too many secrets and the knowledge of too many Russian MI6 agents who would have been executed if I’d buckled under torture.”
“But you kept your mouth shut.”
“I knew that if I told them what they wanted to know, I’d be walked out into a courtyard and executed by firing squad.” Sentinel gripped his hands together. “The only reason I managed to keep my mouth shut was that I steadfastly refused to let the Russians do to me what I couldn’t do to myself.” He looked at Will; his demeanor changed. “Back to work. Let’s fast-forward to two years ago. Razin was now one of my agents and had decided that he must know the identity of my other agents.”
“Though he knew he’d never get that information from you, so he wondered if it was possible to get it from another MI6 officer.”
“A person who at some point in his career had betrayed secrets to the USSR or Russia.”
“He discreetly tasked his contacts in Russian intelligence to try to find out if such a person existed.”
Sentinel agreed. “One of those contacts was an FSB officer named Filip Chulkov. He had clearance to read the closed, top secret MI6 double-agent files.”
“And in one of those files he read about the junior MI6 officer.”
“Chulkov was a stupid man, but even he would have instantly recognized the name in the file.”
“Though it seems his stupidity ultimately got the better of him. Instead of taking the file and the MI6 name to his FSB superiors so that they could reopen the case, he took it straight to Razin.”
“Who thanked him and shot him in the head.”
Will took a sip of his coffee. “Razin approaches the Head of Moscow Station and—”
“Blackmails him to get the names of my agents.”
Though partly conjecture, their theory made sense to Will. But it didn’t help them beyond explaining how Razin had the names of the tier-1 agents. He felt overwhelming frustration. “We can’t warn off your agents.”
“I know that!” Sentinel sounded equally frustrated. “If we do, we take them out of the game. And if that happens, we’ll get the same result we would if they’re killed—a protracted war and all that will follow
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