Russian Roulette

Chapter 16 : Developments

FBI director Ryan Carey slapped down a file on my desk in the vice president's office in the White House, gesturing at me to read it while he took out his own copy of the same file. "Tatiana Volodin, she asked to talk to me."

"And did you?"

"I did." I replied, opening the file while producing an envelope. "She also gave me this, says it's written by her husband."

"Interesting." said the director. "Did the Secret Service checked her?"

"Standard procedure, it's a part of their routine to keep the White House safe from intruders."

"I remember the incident of the French assassin sneaking into the White House." 

"That was a mistake, she dressed herself as a Secret Service agent, problem is she wears a cap."

"Secret Service doesn't wear caps, it hinders their proficiency on the job."

"And she smuggled in an explosive package." 

"Still, she's no match for you-"

"Hold that thought, she shot me in the shoulder and threw me past a glass door."

"And you broke her arm and rib cage while she was distracted."

"If I don't do it, she's going to shoot President Reagan as well." my former superior smiled but didn't respond. "Even though I know that Leopold Bickerling hired them to kill me."

"Still bitter upon your success." he said. 

"Novichok." I say, looking at the photos of the crime scene, where the team in charge of hazardous weapons is present, wearing protective clothing. "It must be Novichok."

"I'm afraid that you're correct, pure guessing?"

"Novichok is always favored by guys in the KGB. Considering that our victim's Russian, and leader of the Russian opposition."

"Was that White Wolf's lesson?"

"No, even though she has written down that in her journal."

"The body was discovered two days ago by his wife, newly returned from a morning jog. She reported that he collapsed the moment she enters the house."

"His wife says that when he collapsed he was holding a bottle of milk. From this statement I have only two theories : either that he buys the milk regularly in the form of daily groceries or like the good old days, getting his milk delivered by orders."

"Exactly." Ryan snapped his fingers. 

"Has the bottle sent to the lab for analysis?"

"The results came out last night, contains traces of Novichok. Russian job, nonetheless."

"Although I agree that Novichok is Soviet stock but there is still chances that Novichok can still be found overseas."

"Like SVR? Or FSB?"

"Successors to the KGB, but I mean places like the black market. I have two possibilities on the assassin's identity."

"Go on, I'd like to hear my former employee's explanation."

"We normally would suspect that this is a Russian job because of the specific kind of nerve agent but on the other hand, could also be a hired gun."

"Sorry Madam Vice President, Sorry Director Carey." my chief of staff entered the room.

"What is it?" I asked, placing down the file. 

"The German chancellor and the British prime minister is on their way to the White House with their aides."

"Why?" I asked. 

"They didn't tell me, but I think it's about the Russians."

"Okay, give it a shot." I say. "You coming?" I asked the FBI director. We got up and headed to the main entrance of the White House to await for our unexpected guests. Chancellor Merkel arrived earlier than Prime Minister Duncan, a mere ten-minute gap. The German chancellor brought along his aide, head of the BND Benjamin Frank while the British prime minister brought the chief of MI6. But I saw a black SUV outside the gates of the White House and no Secret Service agents, nor the snipers posted on the roof of the White House shouted any warning. Timothy noted my angle of vision and followed my gaze, locking onto the vehicle. 

"Friendlies?" he muttered, reaching for his radio. He squawked into the radio, asking for a clearer view of the SUV's driver and passengers through the scope of the sniper rifles on top. "Anything?" Oliver promptly ushered the leaders and their aides into the White House while the both of us focused on the vehicle. "Go inside first ma'am."

"If there's a killer in the SUV he might as well just shoot me as I turned my back."

"All units be advised, Agent Watson's in the vehicle. I repeat, Agent Watson's in the vehicle." a reply came through his radio. Timothy held his radio and turned to me.

"Bad timing." I say. "I already know who is it."

"Agent Watson, don't let your guy exposed out there like a moth to a fire." Timothy reminded his colleague through his radio. 

"The Castle clear?" came his reply.

"Security tightened, you saw the German and British leaders."

"Come in if you have to, but try not to move around." I took his radio and relayed my message. We entered the White House but my pace became more urgent, not a challenge for Timothy. Resting my hand against the door handle I drew in a sharp breath before opening the door to my office. "I apologize for the interruption Mr. Prime Minister, Mr. Chancellor." both leaders quietly nodded but their expressions state otherwise. 

"We might have a lead on the killer Madam Vice President." the German chancellor said. The six of us sat on the couch, accompanied by cups of steaming tea. 

"My country's intelligence agency also tells me the same thing." I say, holding up the file. "We were just discussing the issue when my chief of staff informed me of your arrival."

"Let's see if the findings correspond with what we have." the head of the BND proposed. 

"According to the records and forensic evidence we can conclude that Sergei Volodin's poisoned with the nerve agent Novichok. Traces of the nerve agent is found in a bottle of milk he was drinking. I suspect that the assassin is either Russian or a foreign agent in possess of the nerve agent." I say. 

"Matches the possibility however." the chief of MI6 cut in. "One of my agents was nearly killed when he is in pursue of the suspect."

"Was he discovered?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so, he uncovered a note hidden under the shoe rack in the apartment we believed that belonged to the suspect."

"A British assassin?" I asked, a brow raising.

"Not just British, a former Soviet as well." 

"You're correct ma'am." the head of the BND said. 

"But the identity of the supposed assassin isn't enough to convict him, he must have ties to someone or an organization that seriously wants Volodin dead." 

"My agent said that he saw the suspect interacting with an elderly man, not British but a definite Russian."

"Anything that gives him away?"

"The recording device my agent had brought along picked up the conversation. The old man speaks English, but with a Russian accent."

"Do you have evidence to back you up?"

"I wouldn't come prepared." said the MI6 chief. He handed me a pen like device, kept in a clear evidence bag. "The recording's inside." I took the evidence bag and placed it into the file.