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ones who orchestrated the ruse?”
    “No. The Brits were there because they had a tip-off about the defection from one of their assets in the consulate. They were deployed to shadow and protect the Poles, and to help them get Yevtushenko. MI6 didn’t set this up. Someone else did. And Yevtushenko managed to get to that person.”
    The men were silent for a moment.
    Damien muttered, “It has to be the Israelis, and yet . . .”
    “And yet I agree with what you were about to say. It would have been a sledgehammer approach to grab such an unremarkable SVR target.” Lawrence drummed his fingers on the table. “What’s MI6’s take?”
    Tibor answered, “They think he’s in the hands of private individuals, not a state intelligence service.”
    “And how do you know about the Gdansk operation?”
    “Our golden source.” Tibor was deep in thought. “Gentlemen. Perhaps we should agree with MI6 that Yevtushenko was extracted by private individuals, and if that is the case, perhaps we should conclude that he was extracted from Russia for other reasons.”
    “Reasons that won’t trouble us?”
    “Possibly.” Tibor studied his three colleagues. Though he was older than them, everyone in the room was of equal rank. They trusted each other completely, and while technically they answered to the director of the CIA, in practice the team answered only to themselves. “There’s no doubt that we were right in our assessment of Yevtushenko. He wasn’t the big fish we initially thought he was, but he clearly has immense value to someone. And whatever that value is, I think it has nothing to do with our mistake in giving Yevtushenko’s name to the Israelis.”
    “Mistake?” Damien snorted. “What we did was damn right illegal!”
    “A tactical error, my friend. Nothing more, nothing less. And it was done with the best of intentions.”
    “Tactical error or not, it has serious jail time written all over it if the truth is ever discovered. I’d dearly like to track down Simon Rübner and grab him by the throat.”
    Tibor smiled. “Why? Because we fell for the Mossad officer’s trick and failed to realize that he was an Israeli double agent? Come on, we must move on from that. We’ve got other priorities now.”
    “We’re lucky the Brits didn’t get their hands on Yevtushenko.” Marcus frowned. “You think it’s case closed for them?”
    Tibor shrugged. “I can’t be sure. Not yet. But I do know that the field officer who was in charge of the Brits’ team in Gdansk is MI6’s best operative.”
    Lawrence muttered, “Shit. He’ll have the bit between his teeth. It’s highly unlikely to be case closed .”
    Tibor placed his hands flat on the table and studied his three colleagues. He hesitated before saying, “I have information that could allow us to obtain an unorthodox solution.”
    “We’re listening.”
    The officer paused for thought. “I have the field officer’s name and home address.”
    “From the golden source?”
    “Of course.”
    They sat in silence for a while. Lawrence was the first to speak. “We can’t do anything with that information. It’s too risky.”
    Tibor disagreed. “The information can be used without us getting our hands dirty.”
    Lawrence narrowed his eyes. “Give the name and address to someone who’ll do the work for us?”
    “That’s what I’m thinking.”
    Damien clapped his hands. “We give it to Yevtushenko . . .”
    “Who relays this data to whoever masterminded his exit from Russia . . .”
    “A man who’s not going to sit around and wait for MI6’s finest to come knocking on his door.”
    Lawrence said, “Yevtushenko will have destroyed his cell phone. We’ve got no way of sending him a message.”
    Tibor grinned. “You’re forgetting about his squeeze. I reckon that if we send the message to her, she’ll find a way to get in touch with him: another cell number that no one knows about, a safe-deposit box, a third party. Who knows how