Sean had listened to the transcript almost in disbelief. He asked for clarification more than once that it had been recorded in the eighties and not the thirties. The hate and rhetoric were like nothing he had heard since Nazi Germany. Mike had explained that he had obtained the recording first hand. He had heard it first hand and he had struggled to believe it first hand. Recorded in a university auditorium that of course the KGB had no knowledge was being surveiled by the CIA. Mike had never forgotten the day or the name of the doctor. When Vincent had explained what had happened with Sean, the memory of Dr Boris Surkov came flooding back.
Little was known of the doctor other than what had been gleaned from the transcript. What was uncovered after exhaustive investigations was little other than confirmation that a Boris Surkov had in fact studied under Joseph Mengele. Surkov was listed as a young hospital assistant at Auschwitz and thereafter popped up in a number of facilities linked with Mengele. He had then effectively disappeared from the face of the earth until he delivered his speech to the KGB hierarchy. This fact alone was concerning, the list of attendees at the speech meant that Surkov was connected at the highest level and his work was classified as extremely important. The fact that the CIA had no knowledge of such an important project, nor could they subsequently find any, caused even greater concern. The CIA knew everything, or so they had thought.
The uncovering from his investigations that Dr Boris Surkov was due to be the guest speaker at the upcoming State banquet meant only one thing. He had instigated the project which he had promised would deliver Russia back to her former glory and beyond. As far as Mike was concerned, the Sean situation proved his work had been successful and the subsequent determination to eliminate him, proof that something had gone wrong. President Alexey Gagarin, son of one of Russia’s greatest ever heroes, was quite frankly the single best vehicle Surkov could have picked with which to launch the new Russia.
As far as Mike Ritter was concerned, it was their only hope to stop something before it started. Quite frankly, it was the first time in fifty years they even knew where to find him.
The inclusion of Sean in the Governor’s party was a Godsend and his lightning fast VISA approval, yet another sign that pointed back to Dr Boris Surkov’s original plan.
As Mike was about to continue, Jane raised her hand to interrupt.
“There’s one little problem with that plan,” she offered cautiously.
“What?” asked Mike looking at the diagrams and names he had detailed on the board. He had spent every waking hour over the last day working through his conclusions.
“The Governor’s wife!”
“Yes?” he asked impatiently.
“She died this morning. I’m not sure he’ll be going anywhere!”
Mike looked at his ramblings on the whiteboard. “How did she die?” he asked.
“A freak accident I believe, slipped in the shower, or something like that, I just caught it on the late news. I can’t believe we missed it!”
“Neither can I!” said Mike. His level of agitation had just increased as he grabbed his laptop and typed away furiously.
“What?” asked Vincent.
Mike waved his hand to stop anyone speaking. He was working through a theory. As Jane, Sean and Vincent waited, Mike tapped wildly and scribbled notes like a man possessed, none of them dare speak.
Finally, after twenty minutes, he dropped his pen and looked at them in horror.
“Oh my God, its brilliant!” he exclaimed.
“What’s brilliant?” asked Sean.
“Surkov, I mean his plan. Oh my God, why didn’t I see it before!”
“See what before?” asked Sean frustrated at Mike’s rambling.
“It’s because I came at it from the wrong agenda!” he chastised himself.
“Jesus, Mike, will you try and explain what you’re thinking,” said Vincent, breathlessly.
Mike did and watched the color drain from each and every one of their faces.