by Tom Haase
“Okay. I plan to see if I can get some information on the man in Russia. I’ll keep you posted,” Jonathan said.
“Don’t try to horn in on this. I’ll recover the icon and then we’ll talk.” She rang off.
Jonathon chuckled. The cardinal had issued a directive to him to recover the icon. So he'd be horning in, all right. A plan of action began to form and would at least have him actively participating in this mission. He would reestablish contact with Bridget when he knew more. He dared not phone her too soon without new information, as she would certainly perceive his call as interference.
He called his military compatriot in the Swiss Guards, the commander of personal guards to His Holiness, the Pope. Captain Alfred Grossman, who answered his call on the third ring. Jonathan smiled when he heard the man’s voice.
“Who’s this?” Grossman asked. No one should know this number unless he placed him or her in his caller directory. The phone would inform him on the caller’s identity, so this was most unusual. He assumed it to be a wrong number and wanted to get rid of the caller.
“Captain, sorry, but I’m in America and using the hotel phone,” Jonathan said and his Scottish accent came through the line. “My cell is on charge.”
“Monsignor, how the hell are you? Oops, sorry about the language. Why are you in the States?” Grossman met Monsignor McGregor, then Father McGregor, just after Jonathan took his position in the papal office. The captain’s background investigation on all who had direct access to the pontiff revealed Jonathan’s past in the military experience. Their initial encounter mimicked two soldiers meeting for the first time. Talk of units in which they served, battles fought, won and lost, places of assignments, and other general topics concerning soldiers. They immediately bonded and that respect continued to the present
“As usual, I need your help and I could use it as soon as possible.”
“Are you on another mission for the boss?” Grossman asked.
“Yes. I need all the info you can get for me on a Dmitri Alexandrovitch, who lives in St. Petersburg. His family, connections, business and travels, really anything that could give me a picture of him.”
“I’m on it. Give me a day. I’ll call you on your cell tomorrow.”
* * * *
Jonathan shook his head after he hung up. Every time he called his friend it always embraced an emergency. The last time required him to get the Vatican jet and fly to Egypt, pick up the gang Jonathan had collected and fly them to America. Now he needed help in a new venture. Grossman appeared to love helping a fellow comrade in arms, even if they were not on active duty together.
Later Grossman told him all he’d done. His first efforts to assist concentrated on getting the information about the man in St. Petersburg. That wasn’t too difficult. He started placing his calls and he got the initial information in a few hours. The subject held extensive holdings in oil, stocks, and real estate in various parts of Russia and Europe. Grossman initially assumed the man would travel to visit his holdings, but discovered he rarely went anywhere other than to Canada.
The sources that provided the information said he seemed to be a recluse from any form of online social media and certainly avoided any camera. There had to be a way to find a picture of the man. He contacted a source in Canada and provided the man’s full name and the dates he reportedly visited that country.
He waited for the last report he needed to arrive.
A phone call conveyed the information that Dmitri Alexandrovitch visited Canada on the dates given. He entered Toronto and taken a West Jet to Vancouver. RCMP monitored him for only a short time and left when the second man appeared. Dmitri did remain at his villa for five days. He had only one male visitor for two days, but local police revealed local girls visited the house every night. The girls were well-paid police informants on the goings-on at the villa.
Grossman sent Jonathan a fax of the airport surveillance photo in the customs hall and a second photo recovered from the immigration area. It showed an elderly, grey-haired man wearing glasses. He wore a sport coat and an open collar shirt. He possessed a powerful physique and weighed over two hundred pounds.
Jonathan received the information and started to analyze it. After a period of time, it hit him — the second man. Who was that? He went back to Grossman and directed him to ask about the visitor. He learned it would take longer to get that info from the RCMP. Now he could only be in a wait-and-see mode.
Jonathan felt the second man held the critical link to solving the mystery of the icon.
CHAPTER 31
Arlington, Virginia
Safe House
“Matt, it’s been forty hours since we let Karim go. What now?” Bridget asked as they sat in the living room of the safe house. It held nothing to commend itself and sported dilapidated furniture. The walls were devoid of any pictures and two small lamps adorned the wood side tables next to the couch. Bridget sank deep into the aging sofa as she faced Matt.
“Not a thing, we wait. I would hope he’s not dead if for some reason they didn’t believe his story and the pictures. During our planning phase, we agreed that I should expect our first call in about an hour from now. That is the time he told me to look for it. I forgot to mention that to you before with all the things we’re tracking. Especially the information you received from Gerti, a real shame that didn’t get us anywhere. But at least we have our man in play and we still might get lucky with the name she acquired.” Matt headed for the bathroom door. “I’ll be back in a few.” He closed the door behind himself.
Bridget called Liz. “He’s expecting the first contact in about an hour.” She disconnected without another word.
Matt returned and paced in the living room.
“For God’s sake, sit down. You’re making me crazy.” Bridget rose and went to Matt led him to a chair and forced him down. “Let’s talk strategy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t trust Karim. I know you’re hoping he’s the real thing, but what if he isn’t? How do we proceed? I need to get that icon to stop Schultz from killing me,” Bridget said.
“That’s a bit over dramatic,” Matt said. “We’ll get the arms dealer and the icon. I really believe that Russian has it. There is no other reason he would risk coming back to that farmhouse if it weren’t his. We have to find this Alexandrovitch or whoever runs the arms trade that equips these homegrown terrorists.”
“Matt, Schultz will extract his vengeance if I don’t provide something to placate him. I have no doubt about that and neither does Gerti,” Bridget said. “The stakes here are really high for me.”
Matt’s phone rang. He answered and put it on speaker.
“Hello, Karim,” Matt said.
“Matt, all is great here. No problems when I returned. They believed all I told them and the photo convinced them that you’re dead. You can relax now. No one is out to kill you,” Karim said.
“That’s comforting news. When is the next arms shipment arriving for your group?”
“Don’t know at this moment. Heard talk it will be in two weeks but nothing firm. You sure I get the green card for doing this?”
“For sure,” Matt responded.
“Have you heard the name Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch?” Matt asked.
“No. Who is he?”
“I believe he is the arms dealer who supplies your group. See if you can find anything out about the man who equips you.”
“Okay. Gotta go.” He ended the call.
“Nothing to worry about. He is working for us and we’ll use him to get your icon and take out the arms dealer. Nice, huh?” Matt asked.
“We’ll see,” Bridget replied. “So far, he hasn’t given us one piece of actionable intelligence.”
* * * *
In the FBI building in Washington, D.C., a monitoring station recorded the conversation between Matt and Karim. Special Agent Liz Garcia listened and smiled. Maybe they had a great double agent in play that would help th
em break the largest arms supplier on the East Coast. The director’s plan of using Matt Higgins for the Special Operations Executive seemed to be paying off. Her elation died in the minutes after the phone conversation ended.
Liz knew the charger she previously provided Bridget to use on Karim’s phone actually uploaded an undetectable software upgrade that would give them unprecedented access once the phone became active. It did not house a bug that could be discovered by various methods but a minuscule upgrade that would be undetectable by almost any system in existence.
Liz told Bridget if she were successful in connecting the phone there would be a new dynamic in play with this experimental software. Once the phone was turned on, the monitoring station could hear any conversation taking place within a few feet of the device. Even after a call ended the phone remained active and monitored by the FBI. If the phone powered off, then the signal would vanish. The location of the phone would also be available because of GPS in the imbedded software.
Bridget performed her task successfully and they now garnered verifiable proof of the viability of their new toy. Liz waited for a few minutes after the call ended. She heard voices near the phone’s location come over the speakers in the room. She checked to ensure the recording operated.
When the voices ceased she exclaimed, “Oh, shit.”
She grabbed for her phone to warn the safe house.
CHAPTER 32
Arlington, Virginia
Safe House
Bridget could see from his demeanor that the conversation with Karim had left Matt in an excellent mood. After he placed his phone on the end table, he smiled.
“Things are going great. Our asset is performing just like I hoped,” Matt said. “I’m going downstairs to clean it up so we can get out of here. I miss my own bed. You want a coffee?”
Bridget nodded and he fixed a cup before heading downstairs. She remained on the couch in the living room. Her cell rang and after putting down her fresh brewed cup of coffee, she answered it.
“Bridget, Jonathan here. Just wanted to touch base. I’ve some new information I thought you might appreciate.”
“Really, what would that be?” she said in a suspicious tone.
“I had an associate look into Dmitri Alexandrovitch. He’s some character, a gangster would be a better name. It appears he runs a major crime syndicate in Russia.”
Bridget already knew that information from Scott and Gerti based on their experience in St. Petersburg. So what was Jonathan’s angle?
“Jonathan, I already know that. You must have more information or you wouldn’t have called. Come on, give.”
“Patience, my dear Bridget. You’re trying to pull my teeth without Novocain. I did acquire a picture of the lovely man. He has political influence in Russia and I also found out he recently travelled to Canada to a house he owns in British Columbia. I’ll text his photo to you when we finish.”
“Thanks. Sorry if I’m being pushy but I have a gun to my head on this one. Is there anything else you can add? It feels like you’re holding back on something.”
Matt’s phone rang. He must have forgotten to take it downstairs with him. She couldn’t hang up on Jonathan if he had any other bit of news that could help them. After four rings it went silent.
“Well, there might be, but I don’t have it at this time. I’m waiting for some more on what happened in Canada and who else was there,” Jonathan said.
Matt’s phone rang again and she ignored it. Perhaps Matt would hear its trill sound and come up from the basement.
“You’ll call as soon as you get the information? We have to move on this.”
Jonathan rang off. Immediately Bridget reached for Matt’s phone, but it quit ringing. She went over to the basement door and shouted for him to come up.
* * * *
At FBI headquarters Liz became frantic, as the attack appeared imminent. Why in the hell didn’t Matt answer his phone? As soon as she monitored the conversation after Karim hung up, she dispatched a rescue team. That unit luckily would pass in the vicinity of the safe house on the way back from a training exercise. Its ETA at Matt’s location only five minutes.
She cursed herself for not getting Bridget’s cell number. The house didn’t have a landline. The only thing she could do was keep trying Matt’s cell.
* * * *
Matt ran up the steps to the living room. He looked around and Bridget pointed to his phone. He walked over to pick it up and the phone started to ring. He gave Bridget a smile and answered it.
“Get out of the house!” roared Liz. “Get out now.”
Anyone in the room with him would have heard the loud shout coming from his phone. Matt didn’t even answer, just pulled his gun and headed for the front door. Bridget followed. He suddenly stopped.
“Let’s go out the back. Maybe they aren’t there yet,” he said.
Only a few seconds elapsed since the initial warning from Liz. Matt could still hear her talking on the phone in his left hand. He put it to his ear as he pushed Bridget toward the escape route to the rear.
“Help is on the way. Be there in less than two mikes,” Liz said the last words barely audible because of the deafening roar of automatic gunfire at close range. Bullets slashed through the front door. In a few seconds, the window in the rear door exploded with the bullets flying into the kitchen cabinets. Glass flew everywhere in the room. In a microsecond, bullets smashed into all of the windows, lamps, and mirrors. Bridget and Matt instantly dove for the floor in the living room and started to scurry toward the outside wall.
Matt remembered his army training. The only way to beat an ambush - attack it.
“Give me a gun,” Bridget demanded.
“I don’t have another gun,” Matt said. “Just stay down.”
“Goddamn you, Higgins. You can’t always protect me. Is there a gun anywhere here?”
“I only have one. This is supposed to be a safe place,” he said.
“Safe place, my ass,” she shouted.
“Okay, okay.”
“Can we make it to the basement and the safe room?”
“Not without getting cut to pieces,” Matt shouted.
He sensed the attackers were using a pincer movement to ensure the destruction of anyone in the house. As he sprinted to the middle of the room, he fired at the rear door. After he fired three more rounds, he crouched low and ran to the other side of the room.
He repeated the movement in the opposite direction. Bullets flew by him as he reached the temporary safety of the wall, but they couldn’t stay there. The attackers would soon breach one of the doors. That action would put them in untenable positions.
“Who are they?” screamed Bridget.
“No friggn’ idea. Be quiet, I’m trying to hear their movements.”
“Quit telling me what to do.” A new stream of bullets entered the house from both doors simultaneously. “Is this your way of showing me a good time?”
A second later, the front door burst open. A hooded man, with an AK-47 on full automatic, entered. Matt rolled on the floor, took aim, fired two rounds. He saw the bullets hit the target in the head and throat. Matt sprang up. Not waiting for the attacker to fall, he swiveled in the direction of the rear door. Another man burst in with his gun blazing. Matt had to get out of the direct line of fire of the automatic rifle.
Matt ran, diving over a couch. In his peripheral vision, he picked up that Bridget went for the AK-47. He had to protect her. Before he cleared the piece of furniture, he felt the bullet rip into him.
CHAPTER 33
Arlington, Virginia
Safe House
Bridget sprang toward the weapon on the floor. While retrieving it, she simultaneously rotated toward the oncoming attacker. To her front, she noticed Matt jumping over a couch to get out of the attacker’s line of fire.
Damn. Matt got hit. She saw blood fly from his backside.
With the AK-47 on full automatic, she unleashed the remaining bullets in th
e magazine at her target, who appeared intent on killing Matt. More than three rounds penetrated the torso of the attacker. He dropped his weapon as he slowly collapsed to the floor.
Outside, she heard the sound of sirens signaling the rescue teams arrival, and then more gunshots exploded near the house. She heard someone shout “clear” and assumed someone on the FBI team shouted it. In a few seconds, a man in an FBI black jacket appeared in the front door. She dropped the weapon and raised her hands.
“Are you Bridget Donavan?” asked the FBI man.
“Yes. We need medical. Matt Higgins got hit and is behind that couch.” She started toward it. The man grabbed her arm and indicated with his hand to stay put.
“I’m the team leader. Don’t move,” he commanded.
Two more FBI agents entered and room by room cleared the house. They collected the attacker’s guns and then the team leader allowed her to approach Matt.
She peered over the couch, followed closely by the first FBI man. Blood christened the top of the couch and spread down to the floor where Matt lay on his stomach, unmoving.
“Matt,” she shouted while sprinting around the end of the couch to reach him. Blood oozed through his pants near his lower back.
“Get your medic in here and an ambulance,” she requested of the FBI man as she knelt down.
“Already done,” came the reply from the team leader.
She carefully rolled Matt over to see his face. He slowly opened his eyes. She noticed a large bump on his forehead.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
What a stupid thing to ask.
She watched as he squeezed his eyes a few times and moved to place his hand on his head. He touched the lump and a soft moan escaped from him.
“I took the round in my backside as I went over the couch,” he said. “It hurts like a son of a bitch. I think I knocked myself out when my head hit the wall. I don’t know which hurts more, my head or my rear.”