Black Flagged Redux

by Steven Konkoly

  “No surprises, Mr. President. I just want to assure and protect the liberty of the selfless men and women that have served in my program. I did add a small presidential pardon to the document. One of my operatives was picked up by Customs last February, while en route to pay last respects to his recently deceased grandfather. He may or may not have been convicted of a federal customs crime. Either way, he’s disappeared and I want to make sure he reappears a free man.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that. General Gordon, let’s get this done. General Sanderson?” the president said.

  “Yes, sir?” Sanderson responded.

  “I’m sorry for the loss of your men.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Based on the circumstances, we won’t be able to retrieve them properly.”

  “I understand, sir. Nature of the business.”

  “Unfortunately. We’ll be in touch,” the president said and stood up.

  Director Shelby had to use every ounce of restraint he possessed not to launch into a tirade. This had been a set up from the start. From Victor Almadez’s arrest to this very moment. All orchestrated to provide Sanderson with the leverage he needed to get a presidential immunity agreement. Despite the fact that he’d been warned directly by the president, he wouldn’t rest until this conspiracy was unraveled. Someone in this room had helped facilitate this entire fiasco and he’d get to the bottom of it.

  His money was on one of the generals or admirals, though he couldn’t quite shake the notion that Gerald Simmons was involved. For all he knew, they were all in on this. Sanderson was one of theirs, a member of this tightly knit group of Special Operators, or whatever they liked to call themselves. The only one he really trusted was Major General Bob Kearney. He hadn’t spent a single day of his entire career as one of these “shadow warriors.” Hopefully, Kearney would help him uncover the traitor in this group. At the same time, he’d do some poking around the CIA. He’d love to know how Sanderson got hooked into the CIA. If he couldn’t prosecute any of Sanderson’s crew, maybe he could do something about the criminals running illegal operations out of Langley.

  Director Shelby stood up when the president’s departure was announced. Unlike General Gordon and the rest, he was done here for the evening. He planned to drive home and get a few hours of sleep before facing tomorrow’s uncertainty. He dreaded calling Special Agent Sharpe. Like Shelby, the man had made it his personal mission to bring Sanderson down. He would be crushed to know that he had unwittingly participated in a plot to restore Sanderson’s legitimacy. He waited a minute for the Secret Service agents to clear the hallway outside and walked out of the conference room without saying a word to anyone.

  Chapter 56

  8:25 AM

  CIA Safe House

  Viggbyholm, Sweden

  Daniel opened the back door to the modest one-story home and stepped out into the backyard. He needed some fresh air after spending a tense hour hovering between Reznikov and Leo, both of whom required close medical supervision. According to the physician provided by the CIA, Reznikov had almost slipped away twice before they could finally stabilize him. The doctor didn’t think he would last through the next night, unless he was taken to a major hospital, which wasn’t an option until they were certain that Reznikov had told them everything. Given the Russian’s delicate condition, he wasn’t very optimistic about Reznikov surviving the kind of interrogation required to guarantee full disclosure. The physician anticipated that Reznikov would be ready for a light interrogation by the early evening. Daniel didn’t bother to ask when he’d be ready for a hard interrogation.

  Barring any unforeseen complications, Leo would survive, though without immediate reconstructive surgery, it appeared unlikely that he would fully recover the use of his right shoulder. His collarbone had been shattered, and the doctor couldn’t repair it. He had managed to stop any major internal hemorrhaging and close both the entry and exit wound. Daniel had already spoken with Berg about moving him out of the country to a discreet hospital facility.

  He took in a deep breath of crisp spring air and closed his eyes for a few seconds. He had a number of loose ends to tie up, the first of which was to contact Sanderson. Audra Bauer’s abrupt phone conversation had weighed heavily on his mind as they raced toward the safe house. He understood the implications of her cryptic message and had tried no fewer than ten times to get through to Sanderson and Parker. If U.S. Special Forces units had raided the compound, Jessica could be on her way to Guantanamo Bay, or even worse, some unknown military prison in Central America or Africa. His chances of seeing her again, if she survived the attack, would be nearly nonexistent.

  Sanderson’s capture meant that they would have to leave the safe house immediately. He didn’t believe for a second that Berg or this Audra Bauer could guarantee their safety. Once the White House figured out who the CIA had used to capture Reznikov, Berg and Bauer would be lucky to emerge from the scandal without serving a jail sentence. All of this had the potential to be an awful waste. He just hoped the information provided by Reznikov’s journal entries would be enough to continue the investigation.

  He was tempted to grab either Farrington or Hubner to investigate the Stockholm address found on one of the pieces of crumpled paper, but figured they were better off waiting for Reznikov to come around. He had a feeling that Reznikov already knew what they would find in Stockholm, if they chose to pursue the address. The scientist had nearly drank himself to death and put a gun to his head when they kicked down the door.

  Daniel stared out into the backyard at the thick screen of uneven pine trees that formed a natural private barrier in the quaint neighborhood. He sat down at a small stone table and placed his satellite phone on the cold, rough granite surface. He weighed the options if Sanderson didn’t answer. Fuck it. They had delivered Reznikov to the United States at the cost of three operatives, which was more than anyone could possibly expect from them, given their status as fugitive terrorists.

  He dialed Sanderson’s number, fully expecting to walk back into the safe house and gather his men for an immediate departure. Sanderson answered on the first ring.

  “Daniel! I have good news.”

  “I don’t. Where the fuck have you been?”

  “I had to entertain a few guests. About a hundred or so.”

  “You sound in good spirits, so I assume they didn’t stay.”

  “They departed about fifty minutes ago. SEALs and marines from the USS BOXER Expeditionary Strike Force. A remarkable show of force I must say. Unfortunately for them, nobody was home.”

  “Thank God. I was worried about Jessica. I haven’t been able to get in touch with her.”

  “Jessica wasn’t here. She’s in Buenos Aires. I need to tell you something that I purposely withheld from you earlier. I didn’t want you to be distracted.”

  “Somehow, I have the distinct feeling I’m not going to like what I hear.”

  “By the end of this conversation, you’ll be very pleased. Trust me. First, Jessica is fine, but Srecko’s people found her.”

  “What?”

  “She’s fine, but she went through one hell of an ordeal and will need some time to recover. They grabbed her in your apartment. I had you and Jessica under twenty-four-hour surveillance in Buenos Aires. Call it a training exercise. Munoz and Melendez barely got her out of there.”

  “I need to talk to her immediately.”

  “She’s in a safe place. Her left hand was damaged, but she’ll be fine. We have the best people looking after her,” Sanderson said.

  Daniel stayed silent for a few seconds. When the expected tirade from Sanderson about how their trips to Buenos Aires had jeopardized the Black Flag program didn’t materialize, he jumped back in the conversation.

  “I’m glad they were there to help her. Two of the best we have. I owe them big time. Did she sound all right?”

  “Still groggy from the pain medications. They had to do some work on her hand. You know how she
is. I’d expect a full recovery.”

  “Yeah. She’s surprisingly resilient,” he said. “So, what was the good news you were so eager to share?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. I’m holding a verified and legally binding immunity agreement from the president of the United States. We’re no longer fugitives from the law.”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me. How the hell did you pull that off?”

  “A combination of many factors, which included the fact that they had to leave one of their helicopters behind due to a mechanical failure…caused by a .50 caliber armor-piercing bullet. The administration wasn’t very keen on having this raid exposed to the international media. Doesn’t look good when you’re caught trying to erase all evidence of the covert operatives you just sent on a shooting and kidnapping spree throughout Europe.”

  “You’re a diabolical genius. Is this really binding? We can return to the U.S. without any repercussions?”

  “It binds the federal government. The individual states typically respect the terms of these agreements, but I wouldn’t plan any trips to Maryland or Maine any time soon. Beyond that, you’re free to return under your original identity.”

  “That’s simply amazing.”

  “How is Leo doing?” Sanderson said.

  “He needs reconstructive surgery. Berg is working on a way to move him out of the country. Other than that, he’s shaken pretty badly, but he’ll be fine. Reznikov is the one I’m worried about,” Daniel said.

  “When will he be ready for an interrogation?”

  “Probably not until late in the afternoon. He’s a fucking mess. Alcohol poisoning and atrial fibrillation. Not a good combination. I’ve passed everything in the notebook to the CIA. My plan is to interrogate Reznikov for further leads. I found a crumpled note with the words ‘German distribution company’ on it. I’m willing to bet he knows more about this company.”

  “Do whatever it takes to get this information,” Sanderson said.

  “Is that an order from you or the CIA?”

  “From me, though I plan to formally hand over control of your team to Berg at some point in the day. If my instincts are correct, our services won’t be dismissed in the middle of this crisis, and I intend to continue delivering results.”

  “You really think they’ll officially bring you back into the fold?” Petrovich said.

  “I don’t want them to. That’s the quickest path to destruction. I learned that the hard way. We all did. I’d prefer to keep running this in the shadows and give them the illusion of plausible deniability. They can use us when they need us. The last thing I need is an office in the Pentagon with a placard announcing our presence.”

  “I don’t think you’ll get a warm and fuzzy reception at the Pentagon after Farrington’s stunt.”

  “Oh…I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Daniel, you’ve exceeded my expectations again, which is now something I’ve come to expect. Pass on my congratulations to the rest of the team and my condolences for the loss of Sergei and Schafer. We paid a high price for Reznikov.”

  “I’ll make sure Reznikov was worth that price. How do I get in touch with Jessica?”

  “I’ll give you the number. It’s still early here, so give her some time to rest. Call me when the interrogation is finished.”

  “Understood.”

  Daniel looked back at the house and wondered if the doctors had something they could administer right now to bring Reznikov around. The quicker he finished this interrogation, the sooner he could be on a flight back to Argentina.

  Chapter 57

  7:15 AM

  CIA Headquarters

  Langley, Virginia

  Karl Berg rested at one of the computer stations with his head down. He just needed about fifteen minutes to reboot his brain. He’d been racing in overdrive for the better part of forty-eight hours and it had finally caught up with him. Reznikov’s capture had kicked off a series of events that kept them trapped in the Operations Center. Twelve European addresses were found on the scraps of paper collected by Petrovich. Ramblings in Reznikov’s notebook had implied that these were locations mentioned by the Al Qaeda operatives at the Kurchatov laboratory. Apparently, Reznikov could understand Arabic.

  They had spent the last five hours coordinating with the intelligence services of eight different European countries to direct the simultaneous raid of the addresses gathered. Less than forty minutes ago, law enforcement agents in France, Germany, Sweden, Denmark, Italy, Netherlands, Spain and the U.K. had kicked down doors to find the locations abandoned. The apartments had been left spotless, with the exception of the Copenhagen and Stockholm flats, which had been trashed. Berg now agreed with Petrovich’s assessment of Reznikov’s suicidal mental state.

  The crazed Russian had probably gone to each of the Scandinavian locations with the intention of stealing some of the virus back from Al Qaeda. Copenhagen was an easy seven-hour drive from Stockholm. Now it was obvious that Al Qaeda had changed their game plan, which pushed the investigation into the next desperate phase. They would have to rely on Black Flag’s interrogation to uncover another link. The most promising lead appeared to be Reznikov’s reference to a German medical supply company.

  The Edgewood scientists agreed that this represented a serious threat. If the terrorists had someone on the inside at this company, the weaponized encephalitis samples could be packaged as harmless diagnostic specimens. The illicitly disguised cargo could then be sent overnight using FEDEX, and if the company used to send the samples had a reputation for violation free shipping, there was very little chance that the packages would be inspected. Reznikov’s virus might already be in the United States, which changed everything.

  Half of the Edgewood scientists had departed a few hours earlier, presumably to meet with administration officials to advise them on a national response to secure the U.S. water distribution system. The CIA’s source at Reuters said the news organization was a few hours from breaking the Monchegorsk story, which would include speculation that the city’s water supply had been attacked. This was their own speculation, since Petrovich had ensured that the insurgent army major’s transmission to Reuters didn’t include any reference to a biological attack. The transmission only exposed the Russian government’s brutal extermination of the Monchegorsk population. Still, combined with reports of widespread illness, it didn’t take an investigative superstar to reach this conclusion.

  Once the Reuters story hit the wires, U.S. and European governments would have a short period of time to react and demonstrate that appropriate measures were being taken to protect their water supplies. He wouldn’t be surprised if the U.S. deployed the National Guard to achieve this task.

  All of this was on top of the potentially explosive political pushback against Russia. Every nation in the West faced a possible biological attack by Al Qaeda, and it would become crystal clear that Russia had known about the possible threat for weeks. Not only had they known about it, but they had tried to cover up their connection to the information. His mind wandered back to what the Edgewood scientist had said about the unlikeliness that the initial virus had been created in a makeshift lab within Kazakhstan and his minded swirled uselessly. He really needed about fifteen minutes to shut his eyes.

  “The director of the CIA is on his way to the Operations Center,” the seemingly tireless watch officer announced.

  He lifted his head and sighed. He’d have to get some rest later, if he still had a job. He wondered if Sanderson’s immunity agreement extended to Audra and him. He stood up and put on his suit jacket, brushing it with his hands. Thomas Manning checked out of the Fish Bowl to meet General Copely.

  “This should be fun,” Berg said.

  The watch officer raised his eyebrows, which was the extent of the emotion Berg had seen displayed by the man. At least it was something. Audra looked infinitely more confident than he felt.

  “We’ll be fine,” she said.

  “Maybe I’ll get another promoti
on.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  A few minutes later, the director of the CIA walked through the Fish Bowl doorway. General Robert Copley looked pleasant enough given the circumstances. He wore a dark blue U.S. Air Force service dress uniform, adorned with four stars on each shoulder epaulet and a thick board of multi-colored ribbons on his chest. He was the sixth active duty officer in CIA history appointed to the position. The director pushed his wire rim glasses up by the bridge of his nose and stopped to regard the Operations Center. The room had fallen quiet upon his entry.

  “Congratulations on a job well done. All of you. It’s been a long night and I’m afraid the day has only begun. The president and I count on your continued diligence and success. Mr. Harcourt, you can direct your people to make noise again. I think they work more effectively that way.”

  “I agree, sir,” the watch officer said and started whispering commands into his headset, which brought the din of the room back to a normal level.

  “Thomas, may I speak with you and your deputy director in private?”

  Berg started to slide back into the room.

  “And as Ms. Bauer’s assistant deputy director, you’re no longer working in the shadows, Mr. Berg. Please join us.”

  Shit. This couldn’t be good, in his opinion. All four of them left the Fish Bowl for a small conference room on the other side of the Operations Center.

  “Take a seat,” Copley said. When everyone was seated, Copley began. “The president was not pleased to have his back put against the wall by Sanderson today. Sanderson’s play was a complicated and brilliantly orchestrated event that the White House brought down upon itself. Still, the president did not deserve to be blindsided by the fact that Sanderson’s agents had been critical to the recovery of Reznikov…and had been shooting their way across Europe. It put him in the untenable position of having to admit that the U.S. had operated terrorists on foreign soil. Not to mention the fact that his own Central Intelligence Agency had kept Sanderson’s location a secret from the FBI and Interpol. Director Shelby was sitting right next to him when Sanderson exposed this dirty little secret, and he has a long memory. We’ll all have to watch our backs for quite some time.