52
“Set your phone to encrypt. Use the Kontrrazvedki department’s code.” There was a sharp buzz as the woman on the other end set her security code.
Elayne Kasprak stepped out of the flow of disembarking passengers. Surrounded by the comfortable buzz of Muscovites glad to be home, she’d been feeling warm and happy—until this moment.
She set today’s code and drifted over to the window looking out at the Aeroflot plane that had just delivered her from London.
She didn’t know the caller’s voice, and she was good at voices. But the call had come in with a simple identifier that knocked all the warm out of the day.
Nobody wanted a call from the FSB. The Federal Security Service itself didn’t particularly worry her though; she was above their parochial purview.
However, specifying that she
