Spy Thriller: To Russia for Love: An Espionage and Pulp Fiction Political Thriller
Page 5
***
Seth and Slava had no idea of the barriers they would encounter at the seed plant, so they dressed as workers, and wore new security badges. As they entered the main building and flashed their badges to the security guard, Seth noticed three American men in business suits near the executive offices, talking. One of them looked over in Seth’s direction, and he averted his gaze. At first glance, they appeared to be just ordinary businessmen, but Seth had a strange feeling about them. They looked awfully familiar for some reason. They were too stiff to be businessmen – and were not preoccupied like executives usually were. In fact, they seemed to have nothing in particular to do. Not only that, they had “G-Man” written all over them. They also looked somewhat familiar.
“The CIA is here,” Seth whispered to Slava.
“I saw them too.”
“It may be the same guys I saw at the airport on my arrival to Kiev. I think we’re on the right track.”
“Did they see you?”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t recognize me, looking like this.”
“To be sure, don’t ever let them get close look at you.”
If the seed plant was an area for CIA covert operations, Seth was bound to be caught. His western looks and lack of skill in the Ukrainian language would give him away instantly. Seth kept his head down and let Slava take the lead.
They wandered through the plant in a semi-organized fashion, undeterred by any of the factory’s security men, who mostly seemed to be occupied with their cell phones. They passed by offices with open doors, factory rooms filled with stainless steel cylinders and clean, shiny metal electronic panels. Then, they came upon an area with a locked door and alarm panel with a prominent sign posted on the entrance.
“What does it say?”
“Says, “Laboratory – Authorized Personnel Only.”
They heard footsteps echo far down the corridor and slipped into a nearby break room. Slava poured himself a cup of coffee and Seth sat down at one of the plastic lunch break tables.
The three CIA men they had seen in the front of the plant approached the door. The one in the lead punched the code into the security panel and pushed open the door, and they all entered.
“I have a feeling this is it,” said Seth. “But we can’t just go snooping around here. We must have a plan.”
“I get us jobs here. We work, and on break, we spy.”
“But I can’t speak Ukrainian.”
“You are American guy – this is American company. And you are scientist. You work in lab – perfect!”
Slava’s crazy plan appealed to Seth. Besides, it was the only one they had.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
From the stolen disks, Seth had also found secret diplomatic cables, showing that the US State Department had been lobbying worldwide for Germinat and other biotechnology corporations like DuPont, Syngenta, Bayer and Dow. They showed how the State Department promoted Seed Industry’s global agenda. The cables revealed that the State Department had lobbied the Ukraine to adopt pro-agricultural biotechnology policies and laws, operated a rigorous public relations campaign to improve the image of biotechnology, and challenged commonsense biotechnology safeguards and rules – even including opposing laws requiring the labeling of genetically engineered foods. This was beginning to stack up like a previous battle Seth had waged against his former company and the government to expose the danger of GMO foods.
The records showed that Germinat had hired a big law firm in Ukraine who successfully found loopholes in a moratorium on Ukrainian agricultural land sales. The firm suggested a two-pronged approach to circumventing this moratorium.
The first step is to lease Ukrainian land instead of purchasing it, a practice that basically provides ownership when combined with legal purchases of industrial spaces alongside the same land.
The second step to bypassing the moratorium is to buy large amounts of shares in leading Ukrainian agribusinesses and then change these companies from the inside out. The records revealed that Germinat had bought a five percent share in the largest land bank in Ukraine.
Seth could see that it would not be long before Ukraine, which currently enforces a ban on GMO products, became a card-carrying pro-GMO member, just as the United States had become, without the people even being aware of it. The stage was set for the removal of this ban when Ukraine and the EU had signed their association agreement in 2014.
Germinat had already invested hundreds of millions of dollars into the construction of their seed processing plants in Ukraine. And this was no overnight development. Over the last twenty years, they had been forging a strong business foundation within the country. These foundations had been laid so deep that international agribusiness companies can be found on the board of members of the national Ukrainian Seed Association, including members of Germinat. The goal of the Seed Association was to “implement new technologies” and “the best new varieties and hybrids in Ukraine.”
The Ukrainian Seed Association also sought to “take active part in the development of legislation of Ukraine concerning the improvement of seed market.” This probably explained the 2012 repeal of compulsory GMO labeling in the country.
Seth’s phone rang.
“It’s Slava. All ready for new job tomorrow? We start at nine. I will pick you up at eight.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Natasha awoke to a hammering in her head. She had no idea how long she had been out. It was cold and dark and her wrists ached where the metal bit into them. Her lips were parched and she had pangs in her stomach.
Suddenly, a burst of light stung her eyes, which she closed instinctively, then opened slowly so they would be accustomed to the light. Standing before her were three different men. They spoke in English.
“Good evening, Miss Andropova,” said one, an average looking, dark brown haired man with a neatly trimmed beard, about 35.
“Who are you, and why am I still being held against my will?”
“Ms. Andropova,” said the man. “You have to learn the protocol. We ask the questions and you provide the answers. I think you will find that, in comparison to your previous hosts, we can be a little more…well, persuasive.”
The man flashed a phony smile of perfectly white teeth, as he removed his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt sleeves, and began to roll them up.
***
The following morning, Slava and Seth entered the building separately, and each took a seat in the waiting room in the human resources department. Slava was escorted from the room first, completed his paperwork, and was put on the job immediately as a security guard.
Seth was greeted by a short, plump American woman who spoke in a Southern accent.
“Hello, Mr. Darning,” she greeted him. “I’ve heard so many good things about ‘chu.”
The woman’s phony cheeriness was nothing compared to her hideous makeup. The cakey white powder all over her face gave her the appearance as if all her blood had been sapped by a vampire.
“You’ll be working in our biotechnology department, in the lab,” she said, as she ushered Seth into her office and offered him a seat.
After presenting Seth with his badge, the woman accompanied him to the same door in the same corridor that he and Slava had seen the day before, and showed him the security code for the entrance.
“This is our lab,” she told him. “It has all the most modern equipment. She approached a young man in a lab coat who was examining some microscope slides. He looked up from his work and smiled. This is John Darning,” she said, introducing Seth. “John, Brad Dunlevy.” Dunlevy was a pleasant looking American man, with light brown hair and black glasses. He looked kind of like “Clark Kent” from the Superman movies. As he rose to shake Seth’s hand, Seth noticed his unusual height. He must have been about 6’4”. Of course, that was nothing compared to Slava.
“Welcome to the mad laboratory,” he said, smiling.
“Thank you,” said Seth, who took a liking to him right away.
John took Seth on a tour of the small lab. It was well equipped with a small staff of about seven people – six Americans and one Ukrainian.
“Most of us in here are working on the superweed problem,” said Brad. “Are you aware of it?”
“Yes, but why would you be doing that here, where GE foods can’t even be grown? Wouldn’t that be a better suited project for the States?”
“That’s what I thought. But they tell me that it won’t be long before the law changes and we’re producing GE seeds right in this plant.”
“Superweeds” were weeds which had developed a resistance to the glyphosate-based Cleanup, the most widely used herbicide in the world. Crops such as corn and soybeans had been engineered to withstand large doses of Cleanup, which allowed industrial farmers to spray their entire fields, instead of just the weeds they wanted to kill. As a result, it was easier, faster and cheaper for them to control the weeds. The problem for the farmers was that, in time, certain weeds developed a resistance to glyphosate, and began to choke their fields all over again.
The dilemma for the consumers was more complicated – as well as unknown to them. Glyphosate was systemic. It took up residence in every tissue of the plant, and was now even showing up in mother’s breast milk in recent studies. The company was getting a bad reputation from farmers because of the failure of its herbicide-resistant crops, and it would be Seth’s job to work on the team which was re-engineering the corn to resist not only glyphosate, but also dicamba and 2,4-D; other deadly chemicals which were contemplated to be mixed with glyphosate in a deadly chemical cocktail to resist the superweeds.
Brad introduced Seth to the other members of the team he would be working with. Then, he briefed Seth on the progress of their work. As Seth was seated at Brad’s desk listening, he noticed the three CIA men entering the lab. He watched them walk down a separate corridor lined with reinforced glass windows that ran parallel to the lab.
“Who are those men?” he asked Brad.
Brad looked at the men in the corridor. “Those are high level company big-wigs,” he said. “We haven’t even been introduced to them.”
As Brad was speaking, the three men disappeared into yet another security controlled area.
“Where are they going?”
“Who knows? Not even I have security clearance to that area. Some of the guys call it the “dungeon.”
The thought of a secret dungeon in the seed plant made Seth shiver uncomfortably.
“It’s some kind of top-secret area,” said Brad. “We don’t even know what they’re working on in there. And those three seem to be the only ones who ever go in there.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
With each day that passed, Seth’s sense of hopelessness grew stronger and stronger. He struggled with his uneasiness and anxiety and tried to stay positive. It became more difficult as the days sped by. Each day, Seth awoke and reluctantly went to his newly found job for the old company and did the work for them that he found not only distasteful, but downright evil. And each day he watched as the same three CIA agents entered the “secret area” every day, and left about one hour later. Twice a day, several different technicians would also come and go, rolling carts of what looked like lab supplies.
There was a sense of competition among his new co-workers that Seth had no interest in. Consequently, he had little contact with them, except for Brad, whom he found to be interesting as a person. Seth took his lunches with Brad, but he proved to be only good company; not a source of new information. He met with Slava every day after work. The feeling of monotony began to creep into those meetings as well.
Seth exited the building, depressed and discouraged once again, and waited for Slava in the new designated meeting place – a coffee shop not far from the plant. As Seth walked in, he couldn’t see Slava at first. It took a while to find that shit-eating grinner, hidden in an obscure corner of the café. His relentless enthusiasm was also beginning to grate on Seth’s nerves.
“Tavarish!” said Slava, as he sat down at Seth’s table. “Why you look like cat who ate rotten mouse?”
“That’s because I think we’re just spinning our wheels here.”
“Spy work takes time. You have to learn to walk before you can run.”
“That’s just it – we’ve run out of time.”
“Cheer up. I have surprise for you.”
“What?”
“Shhh, look!”
Slava directed his gaze to the front entrance, where the three CIA agents entered, and took a seat at another obscure corner.
“The G-Men!”
“I tell you, it is no accident I pick this place.”
“You little devil!”
Seth began to feel guilty for the way he had thought about Slava. The next visitor to the café was a real surprise. He slipped in and took a seat with the three Americans.
“Victor Borisov!”
“Yes. In my country, we say trust, but verify. Make sure he does not see you.”
“I look different.”
“Borisov is expert. There is no fooling him. Here, listen.”
Slava handed Seth an earpiece as the waitress delivered three coffees to the CIA men and the earpiece crackled to life. Slava grinned.
“Walls have ears. Today they belong to us.”
“What progress have you made?” asked Victor.
“I think she doesn’t know anything,” said the brown haired agent in the grey suit.
“They’re talking about Natasha,” said Seth.
“Yes.”
“Agreed. We’re wasting our time on this one. We should dispose of her.”
“No,” said Victor. “She still may be of use to us.”
“To the Kremlin, maybe.”
“I’m not talking about Kremlin. Poroshenko and you both need to know what she knows.”
“Why don’t you tell us what we need to know? We pay you enough money.”
“That bastard!” said Seth.
“Double agent.”
“Victor, she’s your problem – not ours. We can’t spend much more time on this.”
“Give it three more days. Then I will take care of problem myself.”
After the meeting broke up and everyone left, the waitress came over to them and put the check and Slava’s tiny transmitter on the table.
“She needs big tip,” Slava instructed.
Seth paid the bill and left an extra 2200 hyrvnia, the equivalent of about $100. Timing was now more critical than ever. They needed to formulate a plan and to do it right away.
***
“Miss Andropova, your time is running out. You must tell us about Project Maidan.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you, I’m a teacher.”
“Who is your superior? Who do you report to?”
“Nobody.”
“That is a lie! We have intercepted communications between you and the Kremlin.”
“Oh? So then you know about my affair with Vladimir Putin?”
The bearded agent slapped her hard against the face. A thin blood pool formed at the corner of her mouth and trickled down to her chin. Then the bearded maniac leaned forward and whispered to her. His bad breath made her want to gag.
“I’ve grown quite tired of you, Andropova. If you continue to waste our time, yours will be even more limited.”
The bearded one waved his hand to the others, who unlocked Natasha’s handcuffs. She crumpled to the ground. She had been hanging there so long, she couldn’t feel her arms. Then, they started to tingle.
“We have some fun games planned for you today,” he said.
The two other men lifted Natasha onto the steel table, and strapped down her arms and legs. Then, the bearded one looked down on her with a smile. It was obvious that he really enjoyed this.
“I’m
going to miss our little times together,” he said. “But everything has its end.”
He dunked a towel into a large barrel of water and threw the towel across her entire face.
“You know, if you weren’t on the wrong side, we might have made good friends.”
Natasha wondered if this horrible little man had a wife and kids, or a girlfriend perhaps. How could he go home to them after the unspeakable acts he had done to her?
“I couldn’t be friends with anyone as evil as you!” she said in her muffled voice.
“Miss Andropova, you probably haven’t heard. We are at war. Sometimes one must do unspeakable acts in the name of God for the common good.”
“You really believe that, don’t you? That God is on your side?”
“Of course He is. We are God’s country after all. This conversation is over. Now, I will ask all the questions and, if you want to live, you will answer them.”
Natasha felt the water being poured on her face and then, suddenly, she was drowning and gasping for air. She tried not to panic and she held her breath.
“Who are you working for?” asked the bearded sadist.
Natasha knew that there was a thin line between her getting out of this alive or not. The US Government would deny the CIA presence in Ukraine, but they may want to eliminate her to be on the safe side. Her only hope was that Seth would find her, and quickly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Victor Borisov parked his Mercedes in the garage across from his apartment building in downtown Kiev, walked to the front entrance, and entered the four digit security code on the security pad. He pushed open the door and entered the space which separated the staircase from the double draft doors.
Without warning, Slava wrapped his strong arms around Victor as Seth held a compact stun gun against his neck and incapacitated him. Slava quickly frisked Victor and disarmed him, and the two of them carried him out between them. Slava and Seth wrapped their arms around the limp Victor’s body, pretending to be carrying a drunk to their car.