Close Quarters

by Adrian Magson

  A ping announced an incoming internal mail message. He glanced at the screen and felt a twitch of disquiet. It was from Lindsay.

  FORTY-THREE

  Callahan opened the link. He read it through then printed off a copy before making his way along to the ops room where Lindsay was sitting. She made to stand up when he walked in, but he signalled for her to sit.

  ‘At ease,’ he murmured. ‘How’s it going?’ He was desperately trying to figure out a way of broaching the subject of her sister, in the hopes that instinct and experience might answer some of the questions raised by Sewell’s visit. But the walk so far hadn’t given him any brilliant ideas. How do you tell an employee you trusted implicitly that you knew a lot of money had landed in her account from an unknown source without breaking that trust completely?

  ‘Quiet, but about to go wild,’ she said, and smiled as if excited by the prospect.

  ‘Yeah, I think you’re right.’ He sat down in the spare chair. ‘You prepared for that?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Better than sitting here waiting.’ She gestured at the extra screen which was carrying a split display. ‘I hope it’s not overstepping the mark, sir, but I brought in some live satellite and news feeds to give me more data for Watchman. I’ll be keeping him updated as it comes in. I dropped you a note to that effect in the internal mail. I also made an additional request.’

  ‘I saw it.’ He waved the piece of paper holding the message. ‘And I approve the request.’ He took out a pen and signed it off for the record. It was a touch of rebellion on his part but Callahan was impressed with her thinking. The data she was referring to from NSA and DIA sources was available for anyone down here with the correct authorization, which Lindsay had by virtue of her assignment. But he was pleased she’d taken it on without having to ask for help, and even more pleased that she had thought of using a drone as overhead coverage for Watchman’s exit strategy. It showed a logical and mature approach to her work and made him even more certain that she wasn’t the cause of the leak.

  ‘I’ll have to speak to a couple of people to get it signed off, but this could be the one time we actually get the authorization to use it. Do you know where the drones are operated from?’

  ‘Isn’t it Ramstein Air Base in Germany?’

  ‘Correct. This one will be a high-altitude camera-only, so it should go unnoticed. As soon as it’s airborne you can advise Watchman. He won’t see it but it’ll be good for him to know it’s there.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Tell him we can’t have it loaded with missiles, because that might cause problems.’ He tried to imagine what it would be like for Portman and Travis, making their way across country to the border with Moldova. He hadn’t been exaggerating in his description to Sewell; it was a long way and fraught with potential dangers. He just hoped nothing was going to come up that would place them in further jeopardy.

  ‘Was there something else, sir?’ Lindsay was looking at him and he realized he’d been frowning.

  He shook his head, then decided to tackle the problem head-on.

  ‘I’ve been instructed to put you on red light rules,’ he told her.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It means that for the duration of this mission you and this room are off-limits to all personnel. I’ll be here, too, in the office next door, to assist if you need it. It’s placing you under more pressure, but I think it’s necessary given the circumstances. Effectively it’s cutting you off even more from the outside world. I hope it won’t be for too long.’

  Lindsay nodded. ‘I’m fine with that, sir.’ She hesitated. ‘By all personnel, sir, who does that mean?’

  ‘Everyone except Assistant Director Sewell. And the president. Although I think even he might find it tough getting past the security guards at the end of the corridor.’ He tried a smile but was aware that it didn’t quite come out right.

  ‘Sir, are you unhappy with my work?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because I can sense something, sir. It might not be my place, but I like to think I can read people. Did Senator Benson say something, sir?’

  ‘Benson?’ Callahan’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘What does he have to do with anything?’

  ‘Because he’s been down here, sir, asking questions.’

  ‘What sort of questions?’

  ‘About my ambitions, hopes, what I think of the work. He said he was compiling a report for a senate intelligence committee on personnel and needed some background information.’

  ‘Was that all he wanted to know?’ Callahan was puzzled. Anything like this should have been steered through himself, although he guessed Assistant Director Sewell must have given Benson the OK to come down here asking his questions. But the timing was very odd. Why now? And why the focus on Lindsay?

  ‘He asked about my family. My brother, Tommy, and my sister, Karen. I told him it was all on record, with the vetting procedure and so on, but he asked, anyway.’

  She kept her expression blank, but it was obvious to Callahan that she wasn’t happy at what she saw as an intrusion at a critical time, and he couldn’t blame her.

  He couldn’t believe it. Was it Benson who’d raised concerns with Sewell about Lindsay’s suitability for this job? Logic said that was impossible. Why would he bother? What would even instigate such concerns? As one of the most influential members of the Intelligence Community, Benson had the kind of background and status unequalled in Washington DC, giving him access to this and many other top-secret establishments around the city. The matter of personnel was surely so far down on his list of concerns as to be beyond thought.

  ‘What did he want to know – about your sister?’

  ‘He asked about her debt problems, sir. But as I told him, it’s all on file.’

  ‘Yes, it is. You’ve been very open about that. What else?’

  She frowned. ‘He said … I got the impression he knew that I sometimes help her out with money. I don’t think that’s on file, sir – but it’s a personal issue, surely.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’ Callahan found he was holding his breath. Or maybe it was the closeness of this room. But he was beginning to see a picture emerging … and a possible motive. He was aware, like many of his colleagues, that Benson had expressed concerns about the way the CIA conducted itself many times in the past, sometimes with good reason. But behind it was often the rhetoric of a crusader who wanted change for change’s sake.

  She shrugged. ‘I told him I do, sometimes, when she’s really in a bad place. Karen, she’s … she doesn’t handle money well. I have to refuse her occasionally – but that’s not your concern, I guess. Does he have a right to know that stuff?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t.’ And in a virtual repeat of what he’d said to Sewell, he added, ‘It’s admirable that you help her, and I guess we all do what we can to help out family members.’ He hesitated. ‘This is none of my business, and you can tell me so if you wish, but I guess she probably doesn’t pay you back, right?’

  Lindsay shook her head with a wry smile. ‘It would be nice if she did. But no, sir. Like I said, she’s not good with that sort of stuff. What goes into one hand goes straight out the other.’

  He nodded. ‘I understand.’ He desperately wanted to tell her about the deposit to her bank account, but couldn’t. Learning that the security section had looked at her account might blow the trust that had grown between them at a critical time. Instead he was going to have to trust her to speak up about it later.

  He made to stand up, then had a thought. It was one he didn’t wish to entertain, but that particular horse had already left the starting gate. He asked, ‘Has Senator Benson ever been in this room by himself?’

  Lindsay answered with a slight hesitation. ‘No, sir, never. I make sure it’s never been left unattended.’

  Callahan picked up on her hesitation. ‘But? You had a second thought there.’

  She coloured slightly, as if unsure of herself. ‘Well, there was the time he came down with Assis
tant Director Sewell, not long after I started. You were overseeing another operation. Director Sewell was called away and Senator Benson stayed here, asking questions.’

  ‘I remember. You told me he was asking about Watchman.’

  ‘That’s correct, sir.’ She started to say something more, but paused.

  Callahan noticed. ‘Tell me.’

  She told him, and he listened without interruption, feeling a cold fury growing inside him. This was way beyond anything that he’d ever experienced before, and hinted at betrayal of the most sinister and underhanded kind. Benson had used his position and name to bully a young trainee into giving him information to which he had no right. And, if confirmation was possible, he suspected that Benson had done so to compromise an operation and threaten the lives of two men in the process. Exactly why was a mystery, but that would come out in due course … unless Benson was able to use his influence to block any chance of an investigation.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘More recently I found him here with my stand-in while I was on a comfort break.’

  ‘What was he doing?’

  ‘He was asking about the monitors, getting a tour from my stand-in about the technical side of what goes on here, the maps, the overlays and stuff. I switched them off the moment I got back. That’s why I thought he might have said something. Sir, I guess I might have been pretty blunt, I admit. I’m sorry, but he’s got such a high clearance and AD Sewell brought him down here, so I thought—’

  ‘What could he have seen?’ Callahan felt bad about interrupting her, but he was getting a cold chill up his back at the thought of what this could mean.

  She looked puzzled. ‘Pretty much everything, sir. The maps, the routes for Watchman, the locations and coordinates … and a transcript of Watchman’s latest report.’

  ‘Specifically?’

  ‘About the run-in with the soldiers in Donetsk, getting Travis out … and where he was headed next.’

  There it was. Callahan had to work hard to contain his anger. He was thinking about the hard time he’d gotten from Sewell earlier, and the accusations levelled against Lindsay which could have terminated her career before it got going – and could do still if he wasn’t careful. Yet the assistant director himself had allowed Benson to come down here unescorted and question personnel on vital information to which not even the president would have access.

  It served to remind him of what Portman had said earlier about the man named Voloshyn who’d murdered the cut-out. Voloshyn knew exactly where to find Travis and the local cut-out. He could … by having access to the list of addresses … or by having been given the location of the hotel where Travis was dropped off.

  He wondered how much Benson had seen and remembered from previous visits here … and what he might have talked about once he was out of the secretive atmosphere of this place. He had no idea whether the former senator possessed a better than average or even eidetic memory, but he’d never met a political in-fighter of Benson’s experience yet who couldn’t absorb details like a sponge when it suited them, and regurgitate them later when everyone else thought they’d been long forgotten.

  What was certain was that Benson had contacts throughout the Intelligence Community, and if he wanted something, he would have ways of getting it. Things like photos, for example.

  As he left the room and headed for the elevator to the upper levels, he wondered idly how hard it would be to get a drone in the air armed with a Hellfire missile and to order a strike on the senator’s home.

  FORTY-FOUR

  ‘Watchman, we’re tracking a Mi-24 attack helicopter heading in your general direction from the east out of Sloviansk. The flight is not logged and the pilot is not responding to calls from Kiev air traffic control. Current distance from you is eighty miles, repeat eighty miles.’

  ‘Copy that.’ It was reassuring how with such ease we’d changed from normal speech to the rapid-fire truncated pattern normally found in battle conditions. Lindsay was telling me only what I needed to know, and I was confirming that I’d got the message.

  What she’d told me didn’t sound good, although just because the helicopter was heading this way and observing radio silence didn’t make it a direct threat. ‘What’s at Sloviansk, anyway?’

  ‘It’s an air repair base, currently in the hands of separatist militias. They’ve also taken over the local government building, police and the local SBU office.’

  The SBU is Ukraine’s security service. If the militias had taken over to that extent, any forces in the area would have also been overrun.

  ‘There’s something else,’ Lindsay continued. ‘I ran a search of all information on the area. The separatists in Sloviansk recently shot down a military helicopter containing a dozen Ukrainian soldiers and a general from their National Guard. They also took over the repair base which is housing six Mi-24 attack helicopters from the Air Defense Regiment. Reports say those helicopters are currently being tested and made air ready, thought to be with the help of Russian ground crews.’

  And one of them was heading this way. Damn. That certainly made it more relevant.

  ‘Keep me posted.’ I disconnected and concentrated on driving. Not that I was kidding myself that I could out-drive them. Eighty miles was nothing to a Mi-24. With a cruising speed of approximately 200 mph, it could be over us within twenty minutes without even trying.

  ‘It’s a coincidence, isn’t it?’ Travis asked. The way his voice rose at the end told me he already knew the answer to that. If Grey Suit had discovered our change of vehicles, and he had Russian connections, then calling up a rogue helicopter to stop us would have been easy meat. The separatists had a handful of them sitting on an airfield doing nothing; with a few sympathetic aircrew, which I was laying money on, then the problem was solved. Look for a car heading west with two men inside and that was their target.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ I told him. ‘Keep your eyes to the east. If you see movement, we’ll have about two minutes to take evasive action.’

  ‘Can’t we get off the road now while we have a chance?’

  I looked round at a flat terrain, with fields on either side of the road and no dead ground that I could see. The only building in sight was a broken-down barn a quarter of a mile off to our right. It might as well have had a giant target painted on the side. If the people in the helicopter couldn’t see us, they’d reckon there was only one place we could be. It would give the gunner a great opportunity to try out his skills. Hell, it wasn’t his ammunition, so what was the problem?

  ‘Where do you suggest?’ I said. ‘We might as well be on the moon.’

  He didn’t reply and sat twisted round with his eyes glued to the rear.

  Fifteen minutes later we received another info-burst from Lindsay.

  ‘Watchman, the Mi-24 is currently five miles out, repeat five miles out to your rear and closing. It will be on your location very shortly. Kiev Military Command has been advised and will respond. In the meantime, you should take whatever evasive action you can.’

  She sounded calm enough but there was an underlying tremor to her voice that I hadn’t heard previously. A live developing scenario like this must have been mind-blowing for a trainee who’d never been in this kind of situation before. Nor could she have been fully prepared for the reality of what she was seeing and hearing. This was real-time action, not some classroom simulation, and I just hoped Callahan was there to support her if she needed it.

  ‘Copy that,’ I said, and continued checking out the flat landscape looking for cover but finding nothing to hide even a couple of men, never mind a Land Cruiser.

  I put my foot down. There was hardly any traffic now, which meant I could hold the centre of the road to avoid the broken surface at the sides and keep our speed to the maximum. Not that the Land Cruiser had the same punch as the Isuzu, but it was game to try. I checked the petrol gauge; half full and plenty enough for now. If anything was going to happen it would be within the next few
minutes and miles, and having a few extra litres of fuel on board wasn’t going to make much difference.

  ‘They’re coming for us, aren’t they?’ Travis was looking at me, but quite calmly now. He still looked sick as a dog and was holding his ribs, but our predicament had taken hold of him in a positive way. He was expecting hell to turn up and it had hardened his resolve to the situation.

  ‘We keep going for as long as possible. If we see a way out we take it, otherwise we hope Kiev send a plane that can kick an attack helicopter’s ass.’

  I picked the clatter of the blades beating the air before I spotted the craft. I turned my head for a quick look but the road here was too narrow for taking chances that would throw us into a ditch.

  ‘Helicopter,’ Travis said calmly. ‘About a thousand yards at four o’clock and coming right in.’

  I ignored it and checked the countryside again for cover. But I was flat out of ideas. There was nothing I could do but keep going, since sitting still and waiting to be blasted wasn’t in my nature. If the helicopter was going to take us out, it would first have to take up an attack position, and that would be instantly recognizable. It would give us a few seconds to abandon ship, during which I’d unsling the OSV and see if I could inflict some damage first.

  It was a limited hope because attack helicopters are built to take more than just the odd hit from incoming rifle fire, even one as heavy as the OSV. But maybe I’d get lucky and break something critical or put the pilot off his game.

  The helicopter roared up alongside us, keeping station about a hundred yards out and fifty feet up. It was OK flying but I’d seen better. Attack craft by definition of their role require more than the average level of skilled pilots. They have to be able to throw their machines around on a dime because that’s the kind of action they face. It’s a dangerous role and requires absolute confidence and skill.