Ghosts of War

by Brad Taylor

  I said, “Yeah. Something. Stay away from that. Still waiting on the mighty Mossad for a report?”

  He said, “I spoke with them. I’d like to talk alone. Can we do that?”

  I expected that answer, given what had transpired. I held up my bag and said, “Yeah. We brought some jerky. I’m sure that’s wolfsbane to females.”

  Shoshana stood up and said, “Jennifer, you want to go shop the old town?”

  Standing by the door, Jennifer said, “Shop for what? I don’t think they sell silenced weapons here.”

  Shoshana bounced up and said, “No, no. I really want to shop. Let’s go look at wigs.”

  “Wigs? Are you serious?”

  Shoshana’s face faltered, and I realized she had no idea what “shopping” with women meant. Whenever she needed something, she just went out and bought it. She’d never gone shopping solely for the experience, and she was just guessing, probably from watching reruns of I Love Lucy. She glanced at me, like I had an answer for her, but then Jennifer pulled us all out of the well. She said, “Come on, Carrie. I’ll take you out. Let the menfolk do what they do.”

  Shoshana beamed and said, “I’d like that. Let’s go buy stuff. Just like you do with Pike.”

  Jennifer actually laughed at that, and Shoshana looked confused again, like some Vulcan trying hard to fit in with the humans. Jennifer said, “If you want to go shopping with me like I do with Pike, that’ll be a short trip.”

  She said, “You guys don’t go shopping together? Like I see in American movies?”

  Jennifer looked at me for help. I said, “Yes, we do. I just don’t enjoy it. You’ll be shopping with her exactly like me.”

  Shoshana slid her gaze to me, and I saw she was really trying. I said, “Jesus, woman. I get it. You want me to have some secret talk with Aaron. Get out of here. I don’t need ESP to see that.”

  Shoshana said, “Nephilim, you were right about Aaron last night. Again. I’m glad you were there.”

  I said, “I’m happy I was, but don’t put some mystical stock in it. We were just lucky he was okay.”

  She said, “It wasn’t luck. When my phone rang this morning, I knew why.”

  We’d woken up at the crack of dawn with both phones buzzing at the same time. Shoshana had answered hers and I’d answered mine. Both said the same thing: Aaron was okay, and in the hands of a veterinarian in Wroclaw. I’d laughed at that. The best the Mossad can do is a vet?

  He had an in-and-out wound to his trapezius, nothing but tissue damage. One inch to the right, and he’d have been missing some lung. He’d coordinated his own treatment, talking to some handler in Mossad, then giving Jennifer instructions to a safe house.

  We learned that he’d made Jennifer turn off their cell phones, unsure what our status was and knowing that if we’d been captured, their phones were vulnerable to being tracked due to our association.

  Smart tradecraft, even if it had driven Shoshana nuts.

  We’d checked out of the hotel like anyone else, and Jennifer had picked us up amid a bunch of flashing police lights. We’d acted astounded at the activity, and then left.

  On the way, Jennifer told us of her trials getting Aaron down the ladder. She’d left it in place, and was worried about that. I laughed and said it would only lead to more confusion. She asked us about our own escape, and, after some back and forth war stories, we ended up at my major question: What the hell, exactly, had happened?

  I knew we’d been suckered beginning with the first invitation. We’d done what they’d asked, and had been met with subterfuge at every turn. Yeah, Shoshana had “predicted” that someone was going to steal the goods, but she never said a damn thing about them speaking Yiddish. And then she’d recognized a tattoo from Israel. It stunk to high heaven.

  Shoshana remained mute in the car, refusing to answer my questions. I became irate, but she only doubled down, ignoring me completely. I gave up, waiting on Aaron.

  It had been an uncomfortable forty minutes.

  We met Aaron at the same hotel we’d left the day before, wearing a bandage and a hotel bathrobe. He opened the door like a bank robber, peeking behind us as if we were hiding a SWAT team. I barged in and demanded answers.

  And he gave them, holding nothing back.

  It turned out I was only half right.

  Yeah, they’d tricked us into coming over, but that was the extent of it, and I already knew that. They truly had no idea someone was hunting the plunder until Shoshana had seen the man in the room.

  Or that the person doing the hunting was a former Mossad agent.

  Unlike Shoshana, Aaron had opened up completely. The men who’d taken the artifacts were, in fact, from Israel. The individual shouting the orders had once been a Mossad agent named Mikhail, and he’d been let go in a manner that was less than civil. Apparently, he’d used his Mossad title to fleece the organization at every turn, padding travel vouchers and using his overseas posting to funnel back electronics and other goods for profit on the black market. Not unlike some bad apples in our own defense and intelligence architecture.

  Shoshana had recognized his voice because she’d worked with him on an operation, and had been the one to turn him in. She was, to say the least, not his favorite person, and the feeling was returned in spades, which explained her lunatic stunt in the castle.

  After being let go, Mikhail had been rumored to have started selling his skills to the highest bidder, and had fallen in with a cabal of Russian Jews, earning money off the skin of others, regardless of their affiliation with Israel. The tattoo Shoshana had seen was for an organized crime faction affiliated with a much bigger Russian group, one of the largest in the world.

  The totality of the information had caused Aaron to send in a flash message to Mossad—something completely unwarranted given the lack of lives in the balance—but Aaron felt it necessary. He asked us to remain for another day, and, given that we had nothing else going on, Jennifer and I agreed.

  In the interest of privacy, we left them alone in the room to wait on a Mossad response. Jennifer and I wandered around the old town, where I found out that Wroclaw had better beef jerky than Texas, which was no mean feat.

  We’d eventually run out of things to look at and returned.

  With Shoshana’s insistence that she go shopping with Jennifer, I knew we were about to be asked another favor.

  I just wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what it was.

  23

  After the president’s outburst, Kurt Hale was glad to be in the cheap seats instead of at the adult table. The room remained silent for a couple of ticks, until President Warren said, “Well, is everything really fifty-fifty, or do we have any analysis that matters?”

  Finally, the director of national intelligence said, “Sir, there is no clear-cut answer in this thing. On who is responsible for the attack, I hate to say this, but it’s a coin toss. There’s no way to verify that the recording denouncing the attack is actually from the warlord in question, but it’s equally impossible to verify the fingerprints on the weapons in the first place. It’s a he-said, she-said situation right now.”

  “Except there was an attack. We know that, right?”

  “Yes. There most definitely was an attack. The Russians are claiming twelve dead and four aircraft destroyed. We have no idea about the dead, and can only confirm two aircraft.”

  General Durham said, “Sir, it’s my opinion that it’s staged. It’s a way for Putin to take over Belarus.”

  At the words, Kurt snapped his head to the chairman. Everyone shuffled in their seats, shocked at the conjecture.

  President Warren said, “You’re telling me that Putin blew up his own aircraft so he’d have an excuse to invade Belarus?”

  Durham said, “I know that sounds outlandish, but there is precedent for this kind of behavior, starting with the little green men who
took over the Crimean peninsula. He claimed forever that the Russian military had nothing to do with Ukraine, and it was a spontaneous uprising, but now admits he had boots on the ground. There is also strong suspicion that his own internal security organization blew up the apartment buildings in ’94 as a way to invade Chechnya.”

  The DNI said, “We could never conclusively prove those assertions one way or the other.”

  The secretary of defense said, “But there’s more. Right now, we’re tracking major movement to the border with Belarus. Movement that would have been impossible if they hadn’t had prewarning to go. At best, they’d be rolling in two or three days.”

  President Warren said, “But why? Belarus is dependent on Russia for energy. If Putin turned off the tap, their entire economy would collapse. He wouldn’t need to go to the trouble. Besides, they’re allies.”

  “They are allies, but Russia has always looked at Belarus as a part of itself. Belarus has always been leery of the relationship because of that. The new Russian airbase is a good example. One minute, they’ve agreed to have it built, the next minute, Belarus tells them to pack sand. As for the energy, yes, you are correct, but if Putin did that, he would be the bad guy. He would be seen on the world stage as a bully causing suffering, and it would be a slow process, with the world interfering at every step. This allows him to act in self-defense, responding to an act of terrorism. And he’ll point to our actions as precedent.”

  General Durham said, “There’s one other thing. Three years ago, Russia and Belarus engaged in a massive war game called Zapad 2013. The scenario revolved around Russia helping Belarus oust an ‘illegal military formation’ on Belarusian soil—terrorists. The exercise involved a hundred and fifty thousand troops and trained everywhere from Kaliningrad on the Baltic Sea, through Belarus, and into Russia. Those same troops are the ones being mobilized.”

  “So you’re saying that they’re running a play that’s already been rehearsed? That the exercise was just a warm-up?”

  “Yes, sir. If you look at the military bases they need to ‘protect,’ they surround Minsk. Take into account they’ll also want to protect their radar station on the border with Lithuania, and they’ll have the country.”

  President Warren rubbed his face and said, “Okay, big question: Why do we care?”

  General Durham said, “Sir, Belarus isn’t the only issue. We have to consider the Baltic states. Putin is taking advantage of our focus on Syria and the Middle East. He’s trying to rebuild his empire, one piece at a time.”

  “This sounds like the old domino theory from Vietnam. I should intervene in Belarus to prevent the rest of the states from falling?”

  “Sir, first things first: We can’t prevent the others from falling. We’ve withdrawn almost all of our forces from Europe, and most of the new countries joined NATO not because they could help the alliance, but because NATO could protect them. If Putin wants the Baltic states, he’s going to get them. Hell, if he wants Poland, the Czech Republic, and Slovakia, he’s getting them, too. They don’t have the forces to prevent it, and we’ll be too slow to stop it.”

  President Warren leaned back in his chair and said, “I’m assuming you’re saying this from some statistical viewpoint and not just from personal emotion about Putin’s intentions.”

  General Durham glanced at the SECDEF and got a nod. He said, “Yes, sir. Unfortunately, I am. We’ve run close to a dozen tabletop war games, with a bunch of different variables, and it doesn’t matter how we slice it: We can’t defeat simple time and distance. The same oceans that protect us prevent us from getting there with enough combat power to stop him. If he’s emboldened—if we let him walk into Belarus—we might live to regret it. We might be left with the choice of a hard fight to evict him from NATO member countries, or letting it stand in a new world order.”

  The president took that in and said, “State, what do you think?”

  Kurt watched the poor undersecretary for political affairs squirm in her seat. When she spoke, it was absolutely Orwellian, “Sir, we believe that such fears may be unfounded at this stage, but may be proven correct at a later date with further evidence. It’s too early to tell if Putin is simply responding to a terrorist attack much like we would, or if he has a more ambitious agenda.”

  President Warren took a breath and said, “Thank you for that.”

  Kurt realized, as much as he had despised Secretary Billings, the lack of a secretary of state with experience was hurting the discussion.

  President Warren said, “Mark? What’s your call?”

  The secretary of defense said, “Waiting on the evidence means waiting on him to invade. Make no mistake, he wants a new world order.”

  The undersecretary for political affairs blushed at the slap. The SECDEF continued, “He actually wants an old world order, and our next steps will either enhance his ability to get it, or give him pause. That’s my call.”

  President Warren nodded and said, “Okay, okay. Looks like the G8 summit’s a bust. Ms. Undersecretary for Political Affairs, what’s your name?”

  “Elizabeth, sir. Or just Beth.”

  “Okay, Beth. I need you to engage the State Department. Not sure how you ended up in the hot seat, but you now have the full weight and confidence of the president of the United States.”

  Showing absolutely none of the confidence he professed, she said, “Yes, sir. What would you like?”

  “I’d like you to get me to Russia. I’d like a meeting with President Putin, so I can personally tell him to back off before we go to guns.”

  24

  Shoshana grabbed the purse she’d purchased in Georgetown and slung it over her shoulder, attempting to mimic Jennifer. Honestly, it was humorous watching her trying so hard to act normal when I knew as soon as she left the room, she’d be scanning for threats. She was incapable of leaving the red zone of awareness.

  Jennifer said, “Let’s go see if we can find a wig. Or maybe an apron for working in the kitchen.”

  Shoshana nodded, not even getting the joke. Jennifer shook her head and I said, “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  The door closed and I turned to Aaron, saying, “Okay, secret agent man, what’s up?”

  Behind him the television was tuned to a breaking news story from the BBC. Before he could answer, I pointed and said, “What’s going on?”

  He glanced at the TV and said, “Terrorist strike in Belarus. They hit Russian assets, and Putin’s starting to rattle sabers.”

  I watched for a second, then lost interest. If it were like every other news story on terrorism, whatever they were reporting right now would be proven false later. Better to just wait until the smoke cleared. I sat down and said, “Let’s have it.”

  Aaron rotated to me, flinching a little bit from his wound. I said, “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. It’ll hurt for a while, but I’m fine. I’ve been shot before, but this does bring up an interesting dilemma for me.”

  “What?”

  “My employer wants me to pursue. They want the Torah. Unfortunately, I would be less than the ideal candidate because of my injuries. And Shoshana is burned.”

  “We had on balaclavas last night. Nobody recognized us.”

  “I was a bit circumspect with regard to Mikhail and Shoshana, out of deference to her. Their relationship is, to put it mildly, a little bit more than a work disagreement.”

  “Which means?”

  He said, “Can I trust you to be discreet?”

  “Yes, of course. Come on. This isn’t the sixties, with me sipping martinis and playing baccarat. Your spies are the ones that always steal from us. What?”

  “First, you need to know I will not put Shoshana in a position where her . . . shall we say, less stellar emotions come into play. That happened last night, and I don’t want it to happen again.” He paused, then, as
if it was the great reveal, he said, “She is special to me.”

  I laughed and said, “I got that. I know.”

  He looked at me, and I realized I’d missed his point. He said, “You told me a story about Bosnia once. Where Jennifer risked all to save you when she was but a neophyte. My story is different. Shoshana was used by our intelligence services to kill, and she was good at her trade. She was given to me as a castaway. We did a mission once, in South America. We were tracking a suspected Nazi camp guard from Auschwitz, and she was a handful.”

  He shook his head and said, “Long story short, she didn’t care about anything but the mission. We got into some serious trouble, and I should be dead. But I wasn’t because of her. She dragged me through miles of jungle because, in her words, she ‘saw something in me.’ And now I’m alive. I owe her my life, and I will protect her because of it.”

  I nodded, realizing I was hearing something that had never been spoken. I said, “Okay, I’m with you. I like her, too.”

  He laughed and said, “You and she are connected in a way that I can’t explain. And neither can she. Did I tell you it was her idea to bring you in?”

  I shook my head.

  He said, “Well, she did, but I held something back about the man in the castle. She wasn’t on a single mission with him. He was her team leader, and he was a devil. His chosen form of catching terrorists was setting them up with her. She slept with them, and he killed them at their most vulnerable. You know about her ability to read people, right?”

  I leaned back and held up a hand, saying, “Yeah, yeah. She’s psychic.”

  He chuckled and said, “I won’t push, because I know you believe. Yes, she can read a person’s heart. And Mikhail killed a man that she was convinced was innocent. He covered it up, and it was easy to do. The target was Palestinian. The same problem happened again, on a different target, and she refused. She broke up the operation, and then, when he tried to burn her for it, calling her a traitor, she spilled everything she knew about his side income. It ended badly, for both of them. He was booted from the Mossad, and she was permanently twisted, losing the ability to trust.”