by Alex Lukeman
Selena opened her eyes. "What..."
"Take it easy. You took a hit on your head."
She sat up, braced herself. "Dizzy. What happened?"
"Schmidt's building. There was an explosion."
He looked back at the warehouse.
"Guess we're not going to get a chance to talk with Herr Schmidt."
The building was in ruins. The front and back walls were gone. The interior was open to the sky, collapsed in on itself. A broken gas main sent a column of flame fifty feet into the air with a sound like a giant blowtorch. Flames licked over the remains of the building. A thick column of noxious smoke coiled into the air.
Selena stood up and steadied herself by holding Nick's arm.
"Gas explosion?" she asked.
"I don't think so," Nick said. "Someone would've smelled gas long before enough accumulated to make an explosion like that. It's not like this is the middle of the night with nobody around."
"Someone wanted Schmidt dead," Ronnie said.
"Looks that way. Someone with serious explosives who knew how to use them."
The sound of sirens echoed in the distance. People were coming out of buildings along the street and staring at the destruction. The street was littered with bricks, shattered timbers, bits of paper, smoldering piles of debris.
The lump on Selena's head had grown larger. An ugly purple bruise was spreading around it.
"Helluva knock you took," Lamont said.
Selena reached up and felt the bump and winced. "It's a good thing I have a hard head." She looked at the wreckage of their car. "I think we're going to need another Mercedes."
Nick pulled out his phone. "I'd better call Harker."
CHAPTER 33
Stephanie's husband was at his desk on the seventh floor of the old headquarters building at Langley, mulling over the latest communication from RED EAGLE. RED EAGLE was Langley's star Russian asset, a ranking officer on the staff of General Golovkin.
When RED EAGLE first approached the Agency in Moscow it had seemed too good to be true. Suspicion about his motivation and truthfulness had run high, but time had changed that. The information he passed along had proved accurate. Lucas had come to trust his reports, which was why this particular report was disturbing. It presented a serious problem.
RED EAGLE claimed that for some time large sums of foreign money had been transferred to Orlov's control through Russia's central bank, using Golovkin as a go-between. The money had financed Orlov's rise to power and was being used to pay for weapons. The sums were staggering, amounting to billions of euros.
Billions, Lucas thought. Who the hell has that kind of money and why funnel it to Orlov? Why would Golovkin be involved?
Another question came to mind. How can someone move that much money into Russia without us knowing about it? It has to be through a private bank.
This was something that needed Hood's attention. Enough money had found its way to Russia to give a huge boost to the production of key weapons like the SU-35 fighter and the T-14 Armata tank. The report would send shockwaves through the Pentagon. It meant that estimates of Russia's military capability and readiness would have to be revised upward.
Lucas picked up the folder with RED EAGLE's report and walked down the hall to Hood's office. The DCI's secretary was at her post outside his door.
"I need to see the big guy," Lucas said. "Is he free?"
"You're in luck. He just got off the phone. I'll let him know you're here."
She spoke into her intercom. "Sir, the DNCS is here and wants to see you."
She looked at him. Lucas was tapping his fingers on the file folder.
"He seems a little anxious."
Hood's light southern drawl sounded over the intercom. "Send him in."
Lucas went into the office. Hood looked at the folder Lucas carried.
"Something in there we need to talk about?"
"Director. There is. I don't think you're going to like it."
"I wish I had a dollar for every time I saw a folder like that and didn't like what was inside. Maybe you ought to sit down and tell me about it."
Lucas summarized the contents. When he was done he waited for Hood's response. Time enough to present his own analysis.
"May I see that?"
Lucas handed him the thin folder. Hood opened it and quickly scanned the two typewritten sheets inside.
"You believe this is accurate," Hood said.
"RED EAGLE is our prime asset in the Federation. He's never been wrong before."
"The Pentagon isn't going to like this. Or the president."
"No, I don't believe they will."
"We're going to have to upgrade our assessment of their capability."
"That was my conclusion also," Lucas said.
"Where's the money coming from?"
"We have to find out. What bothers me is that Golovkin is right in the middle of this. He's a rabid hawk and he has too much influence on Orlov."
"We always thought the oligarchs got Orlov elected." He held up the folder. "This paints a different picture."
"Someone wanted to be sure Orlov became Prime Minister," Lucas said. "Then Gorovsky has a convenient heart attack and Orlov is in control."
"With Golovkin whispering in his ear," Hood said. "It smells a lot like a conspiracy to put Orlov in charge."
"Whoever is providing the money has to have a hell of a lot of clout. The question is what do they want in return?"
"Sometimes a touch of bourbon helps stimulate my thinking," Hood said. "Join me?"
"I don't mind if I do."
Hood went over to an antique sideboard by the wall and poured bourbon from a crystal decanter into a pair of cut crystal glasses.
He handed one to Lucas. "Your health."
"Health," Lucas said.
They sipped.
"How's your arm holding up?"
Lucas had taken a bad hit in the ambush that had cost Stephanie her unborn child. A bullet had smashed through his shoulder and almost killed him.
"Pretty good. It's stiff and motion is still restricted but I'm working on it."
"How's Stephanie doing?"
"She's dealing with things," Lucas said. His face closed down.
Hood decided not to pursue it and went back to his desk. "What do you think is happening over there?"
"Orlov and Golovkin are old-school hardliners. They're using that money to build up their military. I'm worried that they'll make a mistake and underestimate us. You've seen the troop movements they're claiming are part of an exercise?"
"I have."
"What if it's not an exercise?"
"You're not the first person to wonder about that. I got a call from Elizabeth Harker this morning. She's of the opinion that Orlov intends to invade the Ukraine."
"That's what I mean about making a mistake," Lucas said.
"It would be a mistake if we decided to get involved."
"You don't think we would?"
"We're under no obligation to defend them. It's not like the Ukraine is part of NATO. Besides, we couldn't do it on our own. As far as the Europeans are concerned I'd say it's uncertain at best," Hood said. "Hell, you put all their forces together and it wouldn't be anywhere near enough if the Russians invade. The French and the Germans won't lift a finger without our full participation. Going to war with Russia over the Ukraine wouldn't be an easy sell with Congress."
"If Orlov thinks we won't respond he's liable to risk it."
"President Rice isn't going to abandon Kiev, whatever Congress decides. He has enough legal authority to respond in force. It would take time for Congress to block him. They can't do it right away. Rice wouldn't like sending troops and he's certain to open diplomatic channels but I know him. He's not going to wait for Moscow to gobble up the country. Once it's clear a real invasion is underway, he's going to respond."
"If I didn't know better I'd say someone was trying to set us up for a war," Lucas said.
"That doesn
't make a lot of sense. What's happening in Albania is bad enough but NATO will handle that. War with Russia over the Ukraine is a different story. It could go nuclear and if that happens nobody comes out ahead. I think it was Einstein that said World War IV would be fought with rocks."
"If there was anyone left to throw them," Lucas said.
"See if you can track the source of the money paying for all those nice shiny weapons," Hood said. "I want to know who's making it easy for Orlov to play Napoleon."
CHAPTER 34
Elizabeth watched a live feed from a German satellite passing over Albania and Macedonia. The Europeans had pulled the rapid deployment force out of Poland and sent it to Albania. The politicians were trying to avoid the firestorm of public opinion certain to follow if they sent a new levy of troops to Albania as a peacekeeping force. It looked like the Russians had pulled back from the Ukrainian border. NATO high command in Brussels wanted to believe the retreat was genuine. It made things so much simpler. But the war in the Balkans promised to be anything but simple.
Ground forces from Albania and Macedonia were dug in along a rugged mountain front in Eastern Albania. Mitreski's main thrust had only gotten as far as the town of Librazhd before it bogged down. His army had followed the improved highway leading from the border of Macedonia to the Albanian capital of Tirana, the only road suitable for wheeled vehicles. Both sides had brought up artillery and the town was being shelled. Streams of refugees lined the road west of Librazhd as they fled the fighting.
An attempt by Mitreski's commanders to initiate a pincer movement toward Tirana from the north had stalled out at the town of Bulquize against stiff resistance. Reports of atrocities were beginning to drift in as the old regional hatred between Muslim and Christian flared anew. Memories were a thousand years long in the Balkans. In the Balkans, no one forgave and no one forgot.
The NATO peacekeepers idled away the time in Tirana while the allies argued in Brussels about the mission. As always, the main problem was the rules of engagement. Elizabeth had never understood the mentality that sent armed soldiers and equipment into the heart of a conflict and then couldn't decide whether or not to use deadly force. The Europeans wanted American air strikes and were waiting to see what the White House would do. American airpower cost them nothing and if the strikes succeeded there would be no inconvenient deaths of their nationals to explain back home. But Rice had yet to commit American planes.
Stephanie came into Elizabeth's office. She looked up at the monitor.
"What's happening?"
"A miniature replay of World War I," Elizabeth said. "Both sides are dug in along a static front. It's snowing like crazy and civilians are fleeing toward the capital. Neither side has an advantage."
"NATO?"
"Nothing yet. The forces in Albania are waiting for orders and sitting on the outskirts of Tirana cooling their heels."
"What's happening in Russia with the troop movements?" Stephanie asked.
"It still looks to me like Orlov is going to invade. NATO command thinks it's all just an exercise but I think Brussels has its head in the sand. There are columns of support equipment and troops moving in from east of the Urals. I think that once Orlov has everything in place he's going to move fast. I can't be sure but I think I've identified some of the new T-14 Armata tanks. It's hard to tell with the camouflage. If he's got them there it's a bad sign."
"If he does invade, how do you think it will start?"
"If I were Orlov, I'd go right for Kiev. He has an army group in Belarus that he could send across the border. He could drive toward the city from the Russian side through Chernihiv and Sumy, making a three-pronged advance. There are tanks and motorized transport positioned on the border near Kharkiv and Donetsk. Ukraine is perfect country for tanks, mostly flat steppes. It wouldn't take him long to reach the major cities."
"A modern blitzkrieg."
"Exactly."
Stephanie sat down on the couch.
"I spoke with DCI Hood half an hour ago," Elizabeth said. "He's asked for our help. Someone has been shoring up Orlov with a lot of money. It's one of the reasons he's in power and one of the reasons he's been able to buy all those new weapons he's getting ready to try out."
"Where is it coming from?"
"That's where you come in, Steph. I'd like you to try and find out. The money ended up in the Russian central bank. I'm hoping you can get into their servers and backtrack it from there. Clarence wants to know where it came from. So do I. It has to be someone with access to enormous funds. We're talking about billions of euros."
Clarence? Stephanie thought. Is something going on between them?
She filed the thought away.
"How come Langley didn't spot it before?"
"Good question, I don't know."
"The Russian central bank," Stephanie said. "I don't think I've tried to get into them before."
Elizabeth watched Stephanie brighten with the prospect of a new challenge.
Just what she needs to keep moving through the grief. Something to keep her mind occupied until she comes out on the other side.
Elizabeth knew what it was like. The loss of her own child still echoed in a distant chamber of her mind.
"I'll get on it right away," Stephanie said. She headed off to the computer room.
Elizabeth looked at the monitor. The satellite was passing out of range. She turned off the display and leaned back in her chair and thought about Nick and the others.
They'd had a close call in Hamburg. Someone had made sure Helmut Schmidt would disappear. Whoever that someone was couldn't have known the team was interested in him. Schmidt had been eliminated for some other reason.
Not about the team, yet...something bothered her about it. Elizabeth's intuition was tapping on her awareness, telling her to pay attention. Her intuition was one of her strengths and she'd learned long ago to honor it. Experience told her that sooner or later whatever it was about would become clear.
Her father had taught her to believe in intuition. She'd been a teenager at the time, a senior in high school. The Judge had been sitting on the porch outside their Colorado home, sipping bourbon. It was a pleasant autumn afternoon, the smell of burning leaves in air touched with a hint of winter to come.
Two days before, five of her classmates had died when their '57 Chevy plowed into a bridge abutment at over a hundred miles an hour. Elizabeth and most of the older students at her high school had been at a party after a football victory. The driver of the car was the high school quarterback. He'd been drinking beer to celebrate. Elizabeth was telling her father how she'd had a feeling something bad was going to happen as she watched her friends drive away.
She remembered the sound of his voice, warmed by the bourbon and the afternoon sun.
"People talk about intuition as if it's some kind of feminine nonsense, but it's a valuable thing to have. Some people have a natural gift for it. This isn't the first time you've had a feeling like that, is it?"
"No. But how do you explain it?"
"I don't think there is an explanation. A psychologist would probably say that the unconscious puts together clues from what the mind is observing and figures out a result. That might be true sometimes but I don't think it's always that simple. Maybe your unconscious put together enough clues to tell you that those kids shouldn't be driving and could get in trouble. But I'll bet it was more than that. What did it feel like?"
"It's hard to explain," Elizabeth had said. "Like a warning, an electrical tingling. It even had a sense of color to it, a sort of unpleasant, yellow feeling."
Her father nodded, rocking back and forth in the chair on the porch.
"See? That's what I mean. You're describing a thought, a sensation and a color, all associated with a bad feeling. An experience, not just an idea. That sounds like a lot more than just putting a few clues together. It's a gift to have intuition like that and you should always pay attention to it. Don't be afraid to act on it, if that's what it's
telling you."
"But what if I'm wrong?"
"What if you are? Once in a while you probably will be. But what about the times when you're right? Would you have gotten in that car if they'd offered you a ride?"
"They did offer me a ride," Elizabeth said. "It didn't feel right. That's why I didn't go. After they left I felt like a fool."
Her father looked at her in surprise. "Thank God you didn't get in that car. If you had, you'd be dead. I think that proves my point."
Something about what had happened in Hamburg felt wrong. Even though she couldn't see how, her intuition was making a connection to what had happened to Selena in Vienna. The only thing she could do was wait and see if something turned up to prove her intuition right.
CHAPTER 35
It took less than twenty minutes for Stephanie to break through the firewalls surrounding Moscow's central bank. It didn't leave her with a high opinion of whoever had set them up. In a world where cyber security was becoming a major focus of modern warfare, lax security was a glaring mistake on the part of the Russians. An average hacker would never have gotten in but Stephanie was no ordinary hacker.
She began searching for the money sent to Golovkin and through him, to Orlov. Finding out which accounts were theirs was complicated. Everything was coded by number, but Stephanie knew that somewhere on the bank's servers a list existed that connected numbers with names. It took longer to find that list than it had to break through the bank security. She identified the files and copied them to Virginia. The enormous capability of the Crays Stephanie had at her disposal made it easy.
The money flowing into Golovkin's account had come from four separate sources. Two were in the Cayman Islands, one was in Geneva and one was in Leipzig, Germany. She noted the identifiers for the banks and shut down her connection to Moscow.
More than seventy billion euros had been transferred to Moscow during the past year. The latest transfer had taken place only a few weeks ago. Somehow the transactions had failed to trigger the automatic monitoring used by Interpol to track large transfers that might signal terrorist activity or drug money or any one of a number of criminal enterprises. Interpol wasn't the only one looking for suspicious money movements but none of the agencies responsible for keeping an eye on international finance had noticed.