Operation Sheba

by Evans, Misty

  Over the years, King had revisited his fear of the indiscretion being exposed to the public every time reelection rolled around. However, no reporter or adversary to date had unearthed the information, and Susan was a strong ally in his bid for the presidency. He could trust her to keep her mouth shut. The woman was as greedy as he was and King was most certainly her best bet for the appointment she craved. But unfortunately, the way things were these days, he couldn’t be certain no one else would obtain the information, and he wasn’t willing to chance anything when he was running for the most powerful job in the world. An illegitimate child emerging from the depths of his past would stop his campaign cold.

  The senator rested the tumbler of Scotch on the table next to him and ran a hand through his hair. Susan was as strong an asset to his team as he could want. The CIA’s CTC chief knew a bevy of influential people in and around Washington. With him, she had been a true friend as well as political ally and he wanted to keep her that way. Her willingness to share information with him about his fellow congressmen would continue to make his life easier. Her influence with potential political backers was paramount to his future career move. Their illicit past and youthful indiscretion had already cinched the deal.

  As a veteran of the Senate Intelligence Committee, King knew all the dirty laundry Susan and her bosses were trying to cover up. The Central Intelligence Agency had experienced a great deal of conflict and problems over the past few years. Internally the loss of five case officers and a chief of operations in Europe had crippled foreign operations. Along with that, there had been limited success infiltrating the terrorist groups in the Middle East. If something wasn’t done soon to stop the hemorrhaging, heads at the CIA were going to roll. It wasn’t out of the question to suggest the organization might be gutted and the remains simply swallowed up by Homeland Security.

  Externally, the public had lost faith in the spy agency and the current administration because of the terrorist assaults on the homeland and the outing of Valerie Plame. Suspicion and fear of abuse of power had always hovered like a shadow over the CIA in the public’s mind, but now even the atmosphere in Washington regarding the CIA had turned frigid.

  The President and Congress had given the CIA a substantial increase in authority and status in recent years as well as increasing the organization’s budget by a billion dollars. But as Susan had been quick to point out to King on the golf course a week ago, those measures were simply a quick fix to try and address the current problems. The long-term problems couldn’t and wouldn’t be fixed by such simple, if expensive, measures.

  The revolving door of directors over the last dozen years and the lack of integration between the nation’s thirteen different intelligence agencies had definitely left the CIA in a critical position. Director Allen, the current CIA mogul, had not succeeded in asserting control over the operations inside the CIA, much less over the entire intelligence community. Homeland Security was just another layer of bureaucratic oversight, spending millions of hours and dollars every year on illegal immigration and other subjects best left to the lesser organizations.

  The CIA had simply experienced too many failures in the past few years and needed a stronger leader, someone who had the skills to bring it back around to a world-renowned intelligence agency, as well as a presidential administration that understood the business of spying.

  Susan had proposed a partnership that would do exactly that and benefit them both. Just that day she had called his beeper to let him know her plan was in motion. King knew she had sensitive information that could solve a multitude of the Agency’s internal problems. In the right hands, that information could be used to refocus the CIA and its mission.

  And the person who eradicated the CIA’s problems and set it back on track would win bipartisan support from those on Capitol Hill and would be seen as a competent leader by the American people. Enter the chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee and future president.

  Susan could make King’s dream to occupy the White House in a few years a reality for him. As president, he would want a director of Central Intelligence he could trust and who would work aggressively to complement his administration. Susan Richmond was the blue superhero suit that would turn King from Clark Kent into Superman. Their partnership could out distance any bullet, jump any hurdle. Tomorrow, he would call her—no, visit her—and find out how her stratagem for revamping the internal workings of the CIA was coming. He would also confirm his youthful indiscretion would be handled if it came out of hiding.

  The senator glanced up just in time to see the blonde weather announcer flash her flawless smile at him from the television. He turned up the volume.

  Tomorrow’s weather would be sunny and seasonal. High in the upper-60s.

  Perfect, he thought. Another perfect day for golf.

  “Manny DeSmet was a CIA operator in Germany in the early ’90s.” Conrad laid a file on the coffee table in front of Julia. “He infiltrated a group run by a couple of good ol’ German boys, Heinrich and Gustav Kramer, who dealt in black-market weapons acquired from American and Russian contacts.

  “DeSmet cultivated an asset inside of the operation who acquired an extensive list of those contacts and enough information about the operation to take it down. The Kramer brothers were imprisoned and a large number of their suppliers and buyers were put out of business overnight.

  “A few years later, along comes Heinrich’s twenty-three-year-old son, Henry Junior, who decided to pick up where Dad left off. Only his operation was bigger and better. Junior didn’t limit himself to selling simple munitions like AK-47s and SAMs, he was running anything he could get his hands on—drugs, biological weapons, chemicals, diamonds, you name it. And along the way, he decided to take a little revenge. He started gathering information on Americans, specifically CIA operatives and military folks he could burn down the road.”

  Julia leafed through the file’s contents. A picture of Heinrich Kramer II with his arms wrapped around a woman caught her attention. The woman’s eyes were hidden behind John Lennon specs, long dark hair blowing out behind her. “Who’s this with him?”

  “Cari Von Motz, his girlfriend, who just happened to be a foreign asset on the Director of Operations’ payroll.”

  “She was feeding Kramer information about CIA operations?”

  “At first it wasn’t clear what was happening,” Smitty answered. “Cari’s chief of station was so happy to have someone inside Kramer’s organization that he conveniently overlooked any possibility she was selling us out. According to him, she was following procedure and turning over important documentation about Kramer’s operation. He repeatedly cautioned her against becoming involved with Henry, but she assured him she was simply enjoying her assignment.”

  Julia looked at Conrad. “This is the group you were infiltrating when you went to Berlin?”

  “Yes.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “In Paris I had hooked up with Pierre LeMont, the small-time arms dealer you and I did surveillance on.”

  “I remember.”

  “Through him, I was put in touch with Henry Jr.’s partner, Georges Durand. My cover was as a buyer for a private entity. As a test, Cari’s station chief left her in the dark about my affiliation with the CIA. After negotiating a couple of deals with Durand, he hired me to do some independent contracting for him and Kramer. In the process I figured out Cari’s romance with Henry was not an act. She was giving classified information to him and feeding mostly false information back to her COS.”

  Smitty swiveled in his chair and put his feet on the coffee table. “The topper was that the Kramer clan is kissing cousins to Germany’s chancellor, Wilhelm Ruger. The information young Kramer received was being passed on to the German government. I decided to keep Con undercover there until we could determine what to do with Cari. We were hoping to find out more about Kramer’s operation before we terminated her employment.”

  Julia sank back into the futon.
“The warehouse we blew up in Berlin—was that part of your independent contracting?”

  Conrad nodded. “Kramer and Durand needed some competition put out of business. Of course, that part of my contracting was never officially reported to the Agency.”

  Pushing off the wall, he leaned over the table. He rifled through the file until he found several papers. “Cari was receiving e-mail correspondence from someone at Langley.” Handing the papers to Julia, he continued. “They were bypassing the European Chief of Op and her station chief with information a person in her capacity shouldn’t have had access to.”

  Julia sat forward and studied the copies of e-mail correspondence. Names were in code, but the messages provided a cache of information ranging from the itineraries of dignitaries to the logistics of packages containing gray arms entering the country.

  “Was Kramer paying for this information?”

  Conrad shrugged. “Not that we could track, which was odd. It would have made more sense if someone was selling the info to him, but it appeared they weren’t. Smitty and I decided we had to find out who was giving up the info and why. Since I was already inside, I continued to shadow Cari and intercept as much as possible in order to find out the identity of the mole. Her COS agreed to the arrangement.

  “After you and I blew up that warehouse, I was sitting around getting Durand drunk one night when he showed me this.” Conrad pulled a piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to Julia.

  Folded down into a small rectangle, the paper was creased and worn at the edges. Julia’s skin prickled with foreboding. If Con was carrying it on him, the link written on that piece of paper was crucial to the operation.

  “Apparently Cari’s friend in the Agency got bold enough to hand over names of operators in Europe—just the thing Kramer wanted. His plan was to expose the agents to the underground world and then sit back and watch. It wouldn’t take long for the terrorists, organized crime lords or drug czars to eliminate the CIA operators, effectively crippling the European operations with no direct involvement on his part.”

  “And exacting the revenge he wanted for his father and uncle,” Julia murmured, still holding the small piece of paper. Unfolding it, she began to read.

  The heading was the same as the previous e-mail, but the body of the message contained a list of six people’s names. She knew every person on the list, including the last one.

  Hers.

  Her breath stuck in her throat as she stared at her name. She dropped the paper on the table. “Holy Jesus.” She searched Conrad’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Reaching out, he took her hands in his. “It was too late for me to stop the information from going out over Kramer’s network, Jules. Even if I had, you and the others were still compromised. I had to get you out of Europe and secured back here where you’d be safe. And I had to find out who sold you and the others out.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “How could I be safe here if the traitor was in Langley?”

  “Your sellout wasn’t to fulfill a personal vendetta.” Smitty sat next to her on the couch. “Five other people were on that list as well. If the conspirators inside Langley had wanted to take only you out, they would have. An episode of misconduct could have been inflated to fire you, or, if they wanted you dead, they would have arranged an accident to end your life, and your life only, which would have been easy to set up while you were working in Europe.”

  “But messy to pull off with you right under their noses,” Con added. “You were safer here than anywhere else we could put you. Plus, with you inside headquarters, we had a better chance of uncovering the person responsible.”

  Julia sat immobile for a minute, questions bombarding her mind. She lowered her voice in an effort to control it. “Why was my name on the list and not yours, Con?”

  Conrad exchanged a glance with Smitty. “I have no idea, but it would have only been a matter of time before my cover was blown too. The best thing for me to do was make everyone, including those inside the CIA, believe it was blown and I was dead because of it. I could then watch your back and continue pursuing the people who sold you out.”

  Julia’s mind raced, trying to make sense of everything. A part of her wanted to throw herself into Con’s arms, tuck herself into his body for comfort, for the consoling protection only he could provide. But it had been too long since she’d found comfort in his arms. So much had happened in the last year, the last twelve hours even, that she felt out of sync, her mind and heart struggling to catch up. After squeezing his hands lightly, she pulled hers out of them, stood and walked away from him, trying to sort out the tangled logic. Love for him making the impossible choices he had made competed with the anger she felt over his arrogant manner of manipulation. Exasperated, her voice came out stronger now. “I understand what you did and why you did it, but I still don’t like it. In fact, I hate it.”

  Conrad huffed out a sigh, but nodded once in acknowledgment.

  Moving to the doorway, she leaned on the frame, ran a hand over her face. “Germany. Now I finally understand why you were always running off to that hellhole. God, I hated that country. Do you know how many nights I laid awake in our bed in Paris wondering what you were doing? I imagined you sleeping with a beautiful young fräulein or, worse, lying dead in an alley somewhere.”

  Conrad still said nothing, but his eyes were sad, watchful.

  “Then came the bomb,” Julia went on. “Synchronized watches and an explosion that happened two minutes sooner than planned.” She shook her head. “Me, sitting helplessly inside the car, my body in shock, my mind totally unsure of what had happened. I prayed that night, Conrad. I prayed you’d come running around the corner any second and I could breathe again.” She took a deep breath and blinked back tears. “But I knew, deep in my gut, you were never coming back. And it was my fault. I built that bomb and it went off early.” She steeled her attention on him. “I thought I killed you.”

  Julia could see him visibly struggling with shame and guilt. His gaze went down to the floor, came back up to hers. Was it a silent plea for forgiveness she saw in them or only weariness? Before he could speak, she cut him off. “Only, my bomb didn’t kill you, just my life with you.” She wiped an errant tear off her cheek. “I want to be angry with you and this wicked deception you pulled on me, but all I can feel is sadness and regret lodged right here.” She tapped her chest with a fist. “You sacrificed your career and your life to save me, so it’s hard to feel self-righteous after that, but your betrayal has still broken my heart all over again.”

  Conrad moved for her then and she held out a hand to keep him back, but it didn’t work. As soon as he grabbed her, the fight in her dissolved. She stiffened only slightly as his arms went around her and his grip tightened. He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. Tears fell from her eyes and soaked into his shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  If she tilted her head up, she could kiss him. For a moment, Julia actually considered it. The kiss they’d shared that morning in Michael’s bed had been surreal, weird, almost frightening. The kiss earlier in the evening in her bedroom had been shy and left her with a miserable ache of need. Miserable but desirable at the same time…she wanted to feel his lips again, wanted to suck the heat from his body and the tongue out of his mouth…and…

  In the background, Smitty cleared his throat. Loudly. Julia moved back and drew in a ragged breath. Conrad looked down at her, his eyes grave and watchful again. And maybe a little heated, but now was so not the time to be thinking about kissing Conrad.

  Smitty shuffled papers on the coffee table and tried to look like he hadn’t been watching them. Julia stepped away from Conrad and set her focus on Smitty instead. It was easier to control her emotions if she wasn’t looking at Con. It was easier to think. And she definitely needed to think.

  “So, Michael was right when he told me Con’s death was not my fault.” She was pleased at the matter-of-factness in her voi
ce as she spoke to Smitty. “But he was wrong about me being safe. Someone, possibly an intricately woven group within the Agency, sold me and four other case officers out. I survived, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still a target. Why? Why would someone give five case officers up to a sure death sentence?”

  “Power, money, vengeance.” Smitty shrugged. His neck was slightly pink and he kept his gaze on a paper he was holding. “There are endless motivations, but we think power is the key here.” He chanced a glance at her.

  “Not money? They usually go hand-in-hand.”

  Smitty shook his head. “My money tracers have found no significant exchanges of money by the key players. No red flags in offshore accounts.”

  Conrad crossed to the futon. “Everything we’ve found, all the evidence we’ve gathered supports an eloquent power play, orchestrated by someone deep inside the Agency.”

  Power. A freaking power-grabber had done all this damage. Sudden anger flared in the pit of Julia’s stomach. She wasn’t good at playing the casual victim, had already done her time in that role. Ditto for turning the other cheek.

  Her anger morphed into steel-edged resolve. “How do you know there’s more than one person involved?”

  Both Conrad and Smitty looked at her, measured hope in their eyes.

  Smitty pointed to the computer. “We have evidence showing the S&T and INTEL directorates have been involved along with Operations. It’s minimal but there.” Science and Technology and Intelligence were the other two main directorates of the CIA.

  “How did you obtain that information?”

  Smitty glanced at Con and back to her. “I was running the European operations long before I officially received the title. Since I knew what to look for, I kept a close watch on all the agents and operators, and used all of my assets in the field to figure out how far this operation went. I uncovered a cache of info from several reliable sources outside of the Agency.”