by Ian Miller
"That we don't know. The chemist told me that the questions and answers were very reasonable and were of the sort of thing you might expect when scaling up, and by then the nature of the complex, how it was made, and what the ligands were, would be well understood."
"What's a ligand?" Telfar asked, perhaps a little sheepishly for asking what she assumed was a very basic question.
"What you put on the manganese to make the complex."
"Oh. So where does that get us?" Telfar asked. She had suddenly realized that it would not be good form to ask, what was a complex? The answer would almost certainly be, a metal atom with ligands attached to it, which would get them back around the circle.
"It gets us down to either needing to see the recipe, or getting a sample of this stuff. That's what the chemist says anyway. Apparently, apart from the fact it's a complex and has manganese in it, we still don't know much about it. Bernard, keep your man on the job. Ruth prepare for an investigation of the shed, but don't actually do anything yet."
"It's going to be a big risk trying to burgle that shed," Telfar said. "If you really want that, it should be military."
"That would be an invasion if they were caught."
"Yes, and my agents are dead if they're caught. My agents are spies, not burglars, and they are more likely to be caught."
"Maybe there's another way," Lawton said. "If this is being made by a chemical company, it may well be funded or managed through something like Rostec. They tend to be involved in military developments, and high technology industrial developments."
"That's promising."
"Maybe, but don't forget Rostec's big, and involves hundreds of organizations. It could take a long time to even discover what are relevant," Telfar pointed out.
"Yes, but if you look at their website, they openly admit to being involved with stealth technology. They even have a dig at the US on it."
"How?"
Lawton gave a big grin as he said, "The website states the US got interested from reading an article by the Russian physicist Peter Ufimtsev, and it then points out he emigrated to the US and worked on it for us. They effectively claim our stealth technology is a Russian invention."
"Then why did they let this Ufimtsev go?" Telfar asked. Her frown showed she was quite perplexed by the claim.
"Because the Soviets decided that stealth still did not work properly, and to get the shape right, you have to sacrifice manoeuvrability. They also argue the stealth is too expensive, and point out the only US aircraft the Serbs shot down was actually a stealth plane."
"So this is a waste of time?" the woman from the White House asked. She so wanted this problem to go away.
"If this specific paint does what it claims, no," Lawton replied. "The claims are, you can paint any aircraft to get much improved stealth, and that should not affect the performance other than maybe through minor frictional effects."
"Right, then we're back to where we were a little while ago."
"Maybe Bernie's man can explore the Rostec or aircraft industry connections," Telfar offered.
"I agree," the woman from the White House said, "but equally at the very least you can find an agent to at least search this Bazina woman's files, preferably at night when there is more time. Right, we have things to do, so go do them." With that, she gathered her papers and stormed out the door.
"Do you get the feeling this is not very well planned?" Lawton asked.
"I'm just wondering if maybe it is very well planned," Telfar replied, "except not by us nor for our benefit. Bernie, please, make another deeper sweep of Bazina's links, just to make sure there's no communication with the FSB, say."
"Will do, but I suspect you need someone on the ground there to do that. I mean, they might meet in the park, say."
"I get it. I'll see what I can do."
Chapter 17
Burrowes viewed the latest instructions with no enthusiasm whatsoever. He had previously made an exhaustive search of Doctor Bazina's files on her computer and on her server, and he was reasonably sure he had everything. Just because his supervisor from the NSA wanted something else did not mean it was there. Still, instructions were instructions and he must persist, no matter how fruitless this was going to be.
Meanwhile, Rutherford was away somewhere for the week and Dennis was becoming unbearable with his comments, which mainly comprised, "Cheer up!" "You should start living," and, "God, you're looking dull!" Obviously something good had happened for him, or at least he thought it was good, whatever it was. Even Brian was puzzled. Also, it turned out that Rutherford had not given the two of them any further instructions, so Brian decided to go home. Burrowes suspected it was mainly to get away from Dennis. Dennis turned up each day, but it was hard to work out what, if anything, he was doing there.
Svetlana was not much happier. She was working her way through the seven hundred Rostec organizations, none of which were giving her positive responses. Since she had no training in intelligence gathering, it was unlikely she would find anything, and he would probably have to go through a number of them as well.
When he finally gave up on the back files, and once again had found nothing other than all the files on manganese chemistry that meant nothing to him, he had an idea. The University surveillance cameras. Records were kept going back a month, so he hacked into them, and put on a search for Doctor Bazina. He soon had plenty of clips of her arriving for work, leaving work, going to the cafeteria, going to the laboratory, all of which was boring, but there was one clip of interest. She was leaving, but stopped on the forecourt to talk to a man who, at a guess would be aged about forty. He was well dressed, so he was not likely to be a student or a research associate. He copied the image of the face, which unfortunately was of rather poor definition, and correlated it with the University staff. He was not a University staff member. Unfortunately, there was no clue as to who he was. Just in case, on a whim he tried the local FSB branch, but there was nobody on their staff who looked like that either. He tried the staff of Ufa–based chemical companies, and still no match. Another dead end. Of course it could be a boyfriend or a relation.
What Burrowes did not know was he had the image of Maslov. The reason why there was no image of him in the Ufa FSB list was because technically he was not part of the Ufa branch. He had expressly forbidden any image of him to be anywhere on their files, and when one agent had sent a question on this to Moscow, the General sent a very terse email back, which was effectively an "obey, or else" message.
The next question was, could Bazina have a further internet account that he knew nothing about? So far, he had had no luck finding one, but there were still some tricks to play. It was three days later that he had what seemed to be a success: one of the incoming emails to Bazina had a copy that went to another address, and after sufficient probing, it was a chemical manufacturer that did not seem to have a web page. That seemed to be excessively suspicious. Then there was a brief note from Bazina to that address, which effectively said, "I'll come and see you to discuss it."
What was "it"? By going back through the emails, dated from the previous week, it appeared it was a chemical problem. He tried getting into the server that held the email address, and there were signs of a number of emails from Bazina, but when he tried to hack one, some security measure cut in and ejected him.
He contacted Lawton for another meeting. Lawton was enthused, until Burrowes told him about being ejected.
"You could have tried to get around the ejection."
"Yes, but while trying they could track where I came from. With that level of sophistication to their security, I am reasonably confident they would try that, and they would not let me in."
"You mean they are better than you?" Lawton challenged.
"No, I mean they could disconnect the server from the internet."
"So, why not try again in a day or so?"
"Because this is rather sophisticated," Burrowes explained. "It depends on what you're trying to do. One
try by me might be written off as something inadvertent, if illegal. Persist, and they will know someone is on to them, and they will increase security all over the place. If there is any other option, my trying again will make it far more difficult for whoever is involved."
"You think they're that good?" Lawton seemed surprised.
"It was a lot easier to hack into the local FSB office," Burrowes said. "What does that tell you?"
"I guess it means, top security."
"I don't know what you're after," Burrowes said, "but my guess is that whatever you're chasing, it is GRU operated, and not a local business."
"That's an interesting interpretation," Lawton said. "I agree. Stop."
"So what do you want me to do?"
"Continue with the Rostec search, and, um, you might want to check out what Rutherford's guys are doing."
"You're changing target? That's not NSA stuff?"
"No, but I am beginning to wonder what falls out if your activities become more public knowledge."
"I'm not going to –"
"I know you're not," Lawton interrupted, "but the Russians might start throwing accusations. And no, you won't be thrown to the wolves, but I need to know what can be thrown at us. If they've found you, they'll also find those others."
"You realize that could be dangerous? Rutherford is not a simple –"
"Don't do it from work. Do it from somewhere else. And don't sign your name."
"OK. I confess I'm curious about Dennis."
"Good. And be careful. And if you need rescuing, try to get a message to this number."
Burrowes was later to stare at the card. He could be rescued by the US government. That was a fair indication he was not really fired.
* * *
The search on Rostec did not seem to be getting very far either, although in fairness, it was a huge organization. There was a specialty chemicals manufacturing plant in Ufa. Somehow he felt that the details given did not indicate anything of special interest, but he noted it down. He was about to give up on Rostec when he found an almost secreted away entry for a company that when translated, came out as MnD Corporation. Almost no details were mentioned. It had a head office in Moscow, which was hardly surprising, and it also claimed to operate in Ufa, but with no street address. It could possibly subcontract out manufacturing to the specialty chemicals plant with a clear street address in Ufa, or it might simply not wish to advertise its location if it were a Defence-based business. Then, if it were really a highly secretive small-scale manufacturing venture, it might be done from that building in the forest. This was most frustrating, but he reported back.
* * *
Ruth Telfar viewed her latest communication from the White House with distrust. One possibility was that the specialty chemical plant in Ufa that was financed through Rostec might have some additional production to that shown on its website. Ground agents were required to investigate.
The nearest one who could conceivably recognize something of relevance was in Voronezh. She would love travelling that far, but in principle she knew something about water treatment and, maybe she could think of something. The best bet would be to learn from their website what this plant put out, preferably something related to organometallics, and ask for a sample to test for some possible different use from the agent's company. A good cover story would be presented to the agent. If nothing else, the United States should be able to think of some reason someone might ask for a sample to test out for some use that would be outside the general experience of the workers at that plant. Yes, Russia would certainly have scientists that might question it, but if the agent simply made an enquiry to meet late in the afternoon, get a sample that could later be thrown away, and offer to take whoever it was for a meal and a drink, she might be able to induce some clues. The cover of an organometallic material was important because she could always ask whether they also had any special manganese compounds.
Yes, the cover had to have a reason why manganese might be special. Something else for the cover developer to work on.
Nevertheless, whatever the planning, this was still going to be dangerous. Nobody in their right mind would go for it because while she might get away with the plan for a day or so, the risk of the enquiry being routed to someone who might know was too great. A sweetener was required, and also a lot of help with an emergency escape mechanism.
* * *
Nadezhda Sobchak was dead tired. The train trip from Voronezh had been a long one and while she should have slept, sleep had eluded her. Still, the day had been productive. She had her sample, the Chief Chemist had accepted her story, and had made a suggestion. There was no problem in getting the sample, and he gave her advice on how to use it, which was weird since as far as she knew, what she had said was too vague to be useful.
The Chief Chemist was sitting opposite her in one of the better restaurants in Ufa, and was quite happy that she paid for the dinner. He was so happy he ordered expensively. She ordered a little more reasonably, in part because she knew she would have to account for this. She drank a little white wine; he was drinking quite a bit of vodka, and was becoming more and more voluble.
Eventually, she tried her luck. "The material you gave me might work," she said, "but it would be better if it had some higher oxidation states."
"Yes, but, well, that's it." He took another glass.
"Have you ever tried something with manganese in it?"
"Why?" He had almost seemed to sober up for a moment, then the glassy smile returned.
"Well, it has a lot of higher oxidation states, and can catalyse –"
"Ah! I see. No, I'm afraid not. No use for anything like that, although I could always make something for you, if you had a minimum order of –"
"No, sorry, I would have to trial it before I could place a serious order. It has to work, you know."
"Ah, yes." He paused for a while, then after taking some more vodka, he gave a grin and said, "There's a place out in the woods that's reputed to do something like that. I'll give you a road address, although all you'll see is a mailbox. But deep in the woods there's a small factory where I gather they make something using manganese." He paused, took some more vodka, and added, "Mind you, I advise against it."
"Why?"
"They've got guards there and big dogs, and they threaten to shoot visitors."
"What? They would shoot a potential customer?"
"Their only customer, as far as I know, is the Russian Aircraft Corporation. I guess it's something they make for the military."
Nadezhda decided to quickly change the subject. This was as much as she could reasonably find this evening.
The Chief Chemist continued drinking vodka, and when it was time to leave, he offered to drive her wherever. She declined, but he insisted, so they left the cafeteria and walked to his car. Exactly how he was going to drive after all that vodka eluded her, especially since she felt she had to open the car door for him. She waited until the Chief Chemist had got behind the wheel in his car and had somehow managed to get the key into the ignition, then she excused herself on the grounds that she was only going around the corner. She quickly stepped away, waved cheerily, and quickly walked to the corner. As she turned it, she looked back. The car was still there, and the motor was running. Once around the corner, she broke into something of a run, until she found a recess. She quickly stepped behind it and tucked herself against the wall as the chemist's car passed the recess.
After the car was out of sight, she stepped back onto the street. She looked at her watch. In an hour and a half there was a night train that would take her back to Voronezh.
When Sobchak's report arrived, Ruth Telfar swore. This was exactly what she did not want. There was strong confirmation that something was there, but she had virtually no concrete information as to what that was. She knew what would happen. She would be asked to get some agent to break into that shed in the forest.
In that she was not quite correct. Two specialists would be i
nfiltrated. They would be met by her Ufa agent, who would brief them on the location, and they would acquire a vehicle and try their luck. The agent would not see them again. If they were successful they would find their own way out of Russia, probably through the Ukraine, not that her agent would know this.
Chapter 18
As dusk was falling, the car was carefully driven in behind some trees. Some thought had been given as to whether it should be camouflaged, but they decided against it. If seen, nobody would know why it was there; if it were found with stuff draped over it to hide it, then the correct conclusion would not be hard to reach. However, if there were a search, tyre tracks through the snow would be a give-away. One of them then walked back to the road, then walked back to the car in the wheel tracks, leaving footprints in the snow that would suggest the car was run off the road and the driver returned to the road and began walking to get help. They now had several hours of hiking through the forest, and for the first few hundred meters they had to do their best to cover their tracks with snow, without looking as if that was what they had done. How well that would work was debatable, but they had to try and they did have plenty of time to spare. They would get to their target at about 0400 hrs, approaching it from the rear, rear being defined by the formal access road.
This sort of cross-country march was nothing to these two men. Usually they had to do it with equipment weighing over forty kilograms. This was easy, although they would have preferred to be carrying more. Being unarmed was unusual for them, but they knew that shooting Russian guards would not go down well diplomatically, nor would it make it any easier for them to escape. Shoot a Russian, and everyone would be looking for you. Simply run, and if you escaped the chances were that the Russians would be reluctant to explain why they wanted you, which would mean only the likes of the FSB would be after you.
They did have light enhancing gear, which meant that they could see where they were going tolerably well. Most of the trees had relatively thin trunks and they were well spaced. The ground had a moderate cover of snow while the ground underneath the snow was mainly grassy. That meant progress was easy, but it also meant that detection would be easier than usual, and if detected, while they could run, there was a shortage of places to hide. They continued on at an easy pace until they came to an area where the trees had blocked the snow sufficiently well they could walk without leaving obvious tracks. Time now for some deception. They turned to their right and made their way as carefully as they could. When they came across more snow, one of them started to walk away, and he covered several hundred yards until he came across another spot where the snow gave out. He then began walking backwards towards his partner, following which they both began walking backwards towards their target. If they had to run, at least there would be footprints in the snow going the wrong way.