by Tim Heath
20
Northeastern Corner of Estonia
Centennial Day––noon and evening
The border crossing between Narva, Estonia and Ivangorod, Russia was quiet that lunchtime. Estonians were not travelling out of the country that day––it was a huge celebration––and even Estonia-based Russians wouldn’t pass up the chance of a party.
As midday came around, an unusual thing happened on the Russian side of the border. The guards were told to stand down––for half an hour. It had happened once before, when the KaPo agent had been kidnapped. Better that the average soldier didn’t see what was going on than to be around to witness something they shouldn’t see.
As half twelve approached, a team of five FSB agents had cleared the Russian side of the border a little south of the main crossing. The Russian side was by far the most fortified. The five men went over the railway bridge and entered Estonia, moving a little down the river to stay hidden, before coming into a forest of trees. Beyond them lay the reservoir, the border between the two nations running through the middle of the vast mass of water.
An island on the Estonian side gave the FSB unit a clear access point, where underwater breathing gear and subterranean motors would enable them to swim across to Kulgu where a vehicle was waiting for them.
With all eyes on Freedom Square––and those on the Estonian border, even that far away, aware of the mounting operation in their capital––the five men of the FSB elite unit made it across without being seen. They were in Estonia.
Tracking their every move, using the same route in fact as the unit of fellow FSB agents, a man with a limp was now doing the same. He’d picked up on the plans, having known one of the men involved from the past. He’d never trusted the man and always suspected he was up to something. Now it seemed his suspicions were well founded.
When it was clear he’d gathered a team of men and was heading west, Sasha had followed. Sasha spotted the border guard on the Russian side stand down moments before––they were clearing a path. Sasha had known about the time this had happened before. He knew what was about to happen.
He took the opportunity too.
It was time Sasha got out of Russia. He’d left the FSB––unofficially, anyway, as he’d gone to ground after taking a bullet in the leg at the start of the year. A senior commander in the same St Petersburg base had been assassinated. Sasha knew that order had come from someone on the outside, maybe even someone linked to the Games.
Sasha knew too much now to be safe in his own country. He needed to connect more permanently with the British.
It was high-time he defected.
Sasha hung back as much as he could from the FSB unit he was pursuing. He needed to be close enough to follow their route. They apparently had the backing of the Russian authorities, and therefore that meant the support of the Kremlin itself. There was no other way to have gone unnoticed from that side of the border.
Once across, the Estonian side was a little easier to navigate.
Sasha didn’t have any underwater equipment and watched the FSB unit disappear in front of him under the water. He figured where they were heading. Sasha would have to find another way across and would have to wait for nightfall, though he didn’t like the idea of being in the open for that long, nor the idea of tackling the icy water in the dark.
The ice.
While in that part of the reservoir the water was kept open and flowing, some parts were frozen. Sasha could walk across. That would require total darkness, and as it was February, that thankfully was only a few hours away.
Sasha kept low, making his move just after 5 pm, walking down the centre of the reservoir for about two kilometres, always on the Estonian side of the border. He was sure the Russian border guards would already be back at their posts, and he couldn’t risk them finding him.
Three men were fishing out on the ice––spaced well apart, the only light being that of the raised fires each one had burning, presumably to keep them warm. The second of these men had several ice holes going, many hundreds of metres between each one. Sasha came back to one he’d passed before, having worked out the man who was fishing it was a long way away; he’d seen him making tea at his fire. Sasha took the pole and the bucket––which had one fish in it––and headed for the Estonian shore. He had his scarf wrapped tight, thick hat and gloves against the cold. If anyone were to spot him on the Estonian side, they would just see one of the returning fishermen coming home early for the night.
He hoped he’d be long gone before anyone suspected anything.
Tallinn, Estonia
Centennial Day––Evening
The day’s official events were now mostly over, or drawing to a close. An invitation-only State ball was underway, the highlight of the social calendar amongst those who moved in those circles in Tallinn, the President herself there to personally welcome each guest. Once more the television cameras were never that far behind.
The MI6 team had started to pack up their things. They were due out that evening. Everyone who had come to view the spectacle, and as much as anything, be seen to be standing alongside their Estonian brothers and sisters, had now left. None of them had been informed of the events that had taken place right underneath them––and what might have happened.
MI5 would be filled in as a matter of course, in time, but even they hadn’t been informed yet. They’d successfully returned all the people under their care to the UK and were getting on with things again on that side of Europe.
Anissa had been in touch with Alex all afternoon. Her colleague wasn’t in Tallinn officially, and couldn’t, therefore, travel back with them––nor was he required to leave as soon as they were heading out, either. He would stick around, see what more he might be able to pick up. It’d been cleared between Anissa and KaPo. The Estonians understood the unique role Alex might be able to play, and they appreciated his skills being made available to them, at least in the initial stages of what might prove to be a complicated investigation.
Officially, nothing had happened. That had been the explicit agreement with all parties involved––notably the Estonian KaPo and police force, as well as British MI6. It would only serve the would-be terrorists a PR advantage if word got out. Europe didn’t need any more close calls. And Tallinn had undoubtedly been precisely that.
It was clear from what they found in the van, that had they wanted to, a devastating explosion could have been the result. It was unclear whether it would have been enough for the ceiling to implode––opinion was divided on that matter––but with so much extra weight rolling across the surface of the square, there was no knowing what might have happened had a bomb detonated.
The fact many European leaders were standing above the car park would have led to international repercussions as well as more death and destruction. It would have been a disaster for Estonia, of course, coming on a day that marked their one-hundredth year as a recognised, independent nation.
The Estonian viewpoint was that this was apparently Russian provocation and only something the Kremlin itself could have been behind. Alex, of course, wasn’t so sure. He knew there were other centres of power even within Russia. Was this the start of a fight for control within that vast nation? Or was it, in fact, Putin’s attempt for greater dominance in the region?
Alex did his best to put some perspective on proceedings. It wasn’t helpful for anyone to jump to any conclusions yet, he reminded them, until they knew more.
What wasn’t known––nothing came up online, not even a website––was any reference to the Estonian Liberation Army, as printed on the leaflets. The brochures were meant to be discovered, as were the ingredients for what could have been a killer bomb. It was a propaganda move, and nothing more. Had an explosion happened, the paper leaflets would have been obliterated.
They were meant to find them.
For what purpose? The fact they’d called themselves an army made interesting reading. Not a force or a party or even a fron
t. An army. They were also apparently a well resourced and well-connected army.
They discovered the hack into the KaPo system that evening. Three days before the event, an unknown hacker had piggybacked into their primary system and entered the black van’s registration plates onto a list of safe vehicles, the vehicle listed as being transport for the KaPo. There was no way of knowing where the hack had come from, though it got passed to the Estonian operations room at cyber control.
Alex met Anissa outside her hotel just before ten that evening––the British agents who were in Tallinn on official business were due to leave for the airport in five minutes––and they walked a little way from the entrance.
“You’ll never guess who I’ve just spoken to,” Alex started, a boyish eagerness showing on his glowing face.
“Who?” she said, her mind already sensing something she knew she was going to enjoy hearing.
“Sasha.”
“He’s alive!” Anissa said, her long-held fear finally let go.
“And he’s in Estonia!”
“Here?”
“Not Tallinn, yet, but I’ll stay here until he makes it.”
“How is he?” It’d been too long since she’d seen him, though their last encounter had been awkward––yet at that moment, even that seemed to melt away. She was just glad he was safe.
“He sounded well, said he’d fill me in when he sees me. I’m due to meet with him tomorrow, when all the dust has settled, and things have returned to normal here.”
“That’s fantastic news. Do send Sasha my love and say I’d love to see him again soon.” Alex wasn’t going to mention anything yet about what Sasha had said about wanting to come and work for the British. He needed to sound him out first, to understand precisely what was going on before he put anything into place.
Anissa hugged Alex and went back to the hotel. She was due out any minute, and Charlie and Zoe were already in the foyer.
Alex turned and vanished once more into the darkness. It was cold, but given his recent travels over the last few years, he was getting a little more used to it. Despite Tallinn and St Petersburg being so close to each other, somehow it didn’t feel as biting in the Estonian capital during cold weather as it did in the Russian city. Or maybe it was just him?
He called Matvey.
“Those names you gave me,” he said after filling the Russian in on the day’s events. “Are you able to trace where they are now?”
“I already know, though I have to ask the question: Why would I tell you?”
“I see,” Alex said, too tired to even want to argue anymore. It’d been a stressful day.
“I’ll be keeping a watchful eye on them, that’s for sure,” he said, pausing before adding, “and on you, of course. I’ll be staying particularly close to you, Alex, now that we have an understanding.”
“We don’t have any underst…” he started to say back, but the call ended. Matvey had hung up.
“Damn you, Filipov,” Alex said to no one but himself. He could now see his hotel in the distance, and he picked up speed to get there, the cold making itself known just as much as his body was telling him he needed a good night’s sleep. He was already looking forward to seeing Sasha again the following day.
21
Siberia, Russia
It was late, past midnight already, though Mark was far from sleepy. He was angry.
Half an hour ago he’d been fully briefed on everything that had unfolded in Tallinn, which had all been a brilliant success. He would monitor precisely what would happen next, as well as how Putin was taking his intervention. He’d been told from his man inside the Kremlin about his name coming up––the young officer who’d made mention of him already disposed of––just another nameless soul like so many others who happened to stumble across something they were never meant to know.
It was as Mark was pouring himself a celebratory drink with Lev––Sergej had needed to leave earlier in the day, so couldn’t be around for the conclusion of everything––that he was handed the news.
“Both the Moscow residence and your Caribbean property were blown up earlier today. Three members of the household staff died in Dominica.”
Mark took the information––dismissing the man without a further word––and fumed over the connotations.
“So someone is trying to wage war,” he said, turning to Lev.
“It can only be Filipov.” Both men nodded in agreement. Lev wasn’t going to point out that killing the man’s only child was always going to cause repercussions.
“So he’s made his first move,” Mark said with a smile as if he was entering into a game of chess, two Grand Masters against each other. “I guess this rules him off our small list for the next President, right?”
They drank to the Centenary––not the Estonian State, that was also celebrating that day––but to the Machine. One hundred years established and finally ready to move into a place of more prominence.
“We could just take Filipov out. There is nothing like a bullet to the skull for making certain issues go away.” Lev had always been the more aggressive of the two––though neither had anything on Sergej, by far the wildest of the lot, despite his current public image.
“That’s something I’m prepared to have done, but not at the moment. Filipov is not able to win the election now, anyway. For that one, Lev, we have to choose between Putin and your nephew,” he said as if between the two of them, they were responsible for the votes of millions of Russians. “Killing him would only make him a martyr, and that’s far too good for a piece of scum like that.”
“He knows you’re involved. Andre must have mentioned something to him, despite what he told you.”
“Maybe, though it hardly matters. I’m not afraid of Filipov, and between us, we have more than enough to stop anything he might throw at us.”
“Don’t underestimate him. We both did that during the final Hunt event, and look what he managed to achieve.”
“Granted, that was well planned and exceedingly well executed. But we know what Filipov’s capable of now.”
“And if he was to become President?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Mark said, though there was a slight note of trepidation. His confidence wasn’t absolute.
“Good,” Lev said, regardless, moving things on, glancing at Mark as both men drank their vodka, trying to work out if his friend was just ignorant of the threat, naive or just mad.
Tallinn, Estonia
As the last days of February arrived, the car park at the centre of the incident underneath Freedom Square had remained closed. Stories were already starting to circulate across the three leading Estonian newspapers.
No official statement had been made, no reason given as to why the area was still on lockdown. They removed the van on the day, the leaflets destroyed. A final forensic sweep was being made of the scene after CCTV information suggested those responsible for the truck being there in the first place might have made a detailed examination of the entire structure. No further devices of any kind had yet been discovered.
Those journalists who had seen the KaPo unit advancing down into the car park––following on the heels of an apparent civilian who’d just cleared a barrier and darted between two vehicles––had been contacted. They were cautioned and released. All of them, so far, had kept their mouths shut.
The President was now fully briefed on everything they knew. She’d been alarmed at how close it had all got––it would have been an attack of unprecedented levels, particularly in peaceful Estonia. She promised to increase funding for the various divisions––this was not a situation that could be allowed to happen again. Someone had been able to get close––thankfully they had intended to make a point, to spread some propaganda and not to shed blood. There was no doubting that the death toll would have been high if bloodshed had been the intention.
Thankfully, they were all still there to live another day. For that much at least, she was thank
ful.
A couple of hundred metres down the road from the Presidential residence––in an unknown basement beneath an iconic art museum––the Cyber Crime and Defence Division was gathering in force. A particular unit of Estonia’s best computer technicians––they had stood before the United Nations in Washington in the past, educating the world in cyber security––sat and studied data.
Over the last week, spiking during the centennial day celebrations themselves, a high-level wave of attempts had been made to breach their system. They were only just coming back online, the system itself protecting its servers against an attack, going into lockdown, meaning no one could gain access––neither could they use it themselves. Between noon and half-past twelve on the day of the celebrations, the system was down. Various real-time feeds which the Basement––as it was referred to––watched continuously, were no longer accessible.
One of these––automated systems did all the checking twenty-four hours a day, flagging up for human observation anything that fell outside strict pre-agreed algorithms––was the border integrity system. The cameras operating along Estonia’s eastern border with Russia were down, therefore. They had not reported the arrival of the five-man FSB unit. Sasha, too, had slipped through that particular net.
Many of the attacks originated in central Siberia––the maps, taken from live satellite imagery––showed very little, if anything down there. Apparently, the signals were being tampered with somehow. Whoever they were, they knew their stuff.
Alex had been talking with Sasha all afternoon. It had taken the Russian a little longer than he had expected to make the journey from where he’d called Alex to get to Tallinn. Sasha had avoided taking the bus––which would have been the most comfortable option and probably totally safe––and instead hitched a ride with Russian truck drivers, who were travelling between St Petersburg and Tallinn. He’d used two different lorries, in the end, changing trucks in the city of Rakvere, where the first driver was due to make a stop. Thankfully another driver was just heading out.