by Trevor Scott
Jake thanked her and was about to step down the ladder. But he turned to her and said, “Where does the flight crew stay?”
“We are required to stay closer to the airport in case we are needed quickly.”
He thanked her again and met his son on the tarmac. The two of them walked toward the private terminal.
“Everything all right?” Karl asked.
“Of course.”
“She’s hot.”
“She’s single. You should have asked her out.”
“I think she’s out of my league.”
“At least she plays for the right team,” Jake said.
“Good to know. Where now?”
“Now we get you to a hotel for proper sleep,” Jake said.
“What about my debriefing with the Agency?”
“We’ll deal with that in the morning.”
Karl stopped and pulled on Jake’s arm. “What the hell are we really doing in Riga?”
Jake guessed the sleep on the plane had cleared his son’s mind. “I can’t discuss that with you.”
“You’re a civilian.”
He shook his head and started walking again.
Karl caught up and stopped Jake. “Hey, I’m not some little kid you can dismiss.”
“If I’d wanted to dismiss you, Karl, I would have left you on that Russian island. Or back in Tallinn, so you could screw that KAPO officer.”
“You know, you can be a dick.”
“I’ve been told that.”
The two of them went through the vacant terminal and came out the other side, where a black Audi 8 sat waiting for them. The drive to their hotel on the edge of the Old Town took a little over twenty minutes. Traffic was light, and Jake guessed those on the road were switching bars. From what he remembered of Riga from his past, the Latvians liked to party.
After being dropped off out front of their hotel across the street from the Freedom Monument, a tall statue dedicated to the soldiers lost during the Latvian War of Independence that ended in 1920, Jake’s mind drifted back to a mission he had been a part of during the Cold War. He had almost been killed by a KGB officer near that monument.
Jake checked in under his Austrian passport and the two of them got to their room on the fifth floor by zero one hundred. He checked his watch and realized he had less than an hour now.
“You have a date?” Karl asked Jake.
“Just trying to see how many hours we can sleep.”
Karl sat on the bed closest to the window overlooking the street and the park across from that. “When’s the debrief?”
Jake peered around the curtains at the Freedom Monument and the Orthodox Cathedral a couple of blocks down from that structure. The church was lit by amber lights.
“I asked about the debrief,” Karl repeated.
Turning to his son, Jake said, “Noon.” He found his duffle bag and pulled out the Glock 17 and the two extra magazines. He set them on Karl’s bed. Then he found an inside the waist holster that the Glock would fit in, and put that next to the gun.
Karl looked confused. “What’s that for?”
“Just in case. I’m guessing the Russians took your piece.”
“Sure did. How’d you know I prefer the Glock?” Karl pulled out the magazine and dropped the round from the chamber onto the bed duvet.
“I didn’t. It’s the same as my gun, so we can share magazines and holsters.”
“Smart.” Karl slapped the magazine in, cycled a round into the chamber and then removed the magazine again, adding the last round to the end. Then he put the magazine back into the handle.
Jake wasn’t sure how much he should tell Karl about why he was in Riga. Truthfully, he really had no clear idea himself. He was just to meet an old KGB officer at zero two hundred. Nothing good happened in the middle of the night in Riga—or damn near any other city.
“You look like you’re ready to go somewhere,” Karl said.
The kid was sharp, Jake thought. Maybe he needed to keep Karl informed. Especially after what he had gone through at the hands of the Russian SVR.
“I’m meeting a guy by the monument across the street at two.”
“Just some guy.”
“A retired KGB officer.”
Karl stood up. “What?”
“It’s no big deal. I’ve known the guy since before you were born. I saved his life in eighty-nine.”
“Still, what could he want with you? You retired years ago.”
Jake didn’t think he needed to give his son the run-down on all the times he had been called back to work for the Agency over the years.
“So did he,” Jake said. “Maybe he just wants to have a beer.”
“At zero two hundred? I doubt it.”
That’s what Jake thought as well. Something was up with Ivan Bragin. Perhaps that was why Jake had agreed to the meeting in the first place.
“I’m aware of that,” Jake said. He slipped the room key card into his front pocket and then felt for his gun and two spare magazines.
“Who is this Russian?” Karl asked. “You know. Just in case you don’t come back tonight.”
“Are you familiar with Kurt Jenkins?”
“The former CIA director? Of course. He was at my mother’s memorial service. She worked directly for him. Why?”
“If anything happens, Jenkins is the one who sent me to meet this man. For your sake, I won’t tell you his name. Just remember that he was born in Tallinn under the old Soviet regime. His father was Russian and his mother was Estonian.”
Karl nodded agreement.
“All right. I’ve gotta go.”
“It’s a half hour until your meeting.”
“I’m going to circle around and surveil the perimeter before moving in for my meeting. Also, make sure nobody is tailing me.”
“Good idea.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo. Get some sleep.”
“Are you sure you don’t need some back-up?”
“I rarely have that luxury,” Jake said. “Besides, that didn’t help you in Narva.”
Karl sunk his head and then nodded. “Good point.”
Jake left the room and quietly made sure the door was shut tight behind him. He glanced up and down the corridor. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Then he softly stepped down the low-piled carpeting.
15
Taking the stairs to the ground floor, Jake exited the front of the hotel and stood for a moment, much like a man who would depart a building to smoke a cigarette. His hotel sat on a major corner at the edge of the Old Town. The street to his left led into narrow lanes with ornate buildings—a tourist enclave that had seen much rejuvenation since the Soviets high-tailed it out of the Baltics. Riga was not as impressive as Tallinn, but at least this area of town had shown great improvement since Jake first came to the city during the Cold War. Yet, he knew that the outlying areas still contained Soviet-era apartment buildings that had not improved a bit since Ivan Bragin, the man he was about to meet, had been a young KGB officer.
Jake spent the next half hour walking the outer perimeter of the Freedom Monument area. Those who were still on the streets at this hour staggered about, infused with alcohol or something else. Surprisingly he only saw two police officers, an older man with a younger woman, who looking like she was a frequent flyer at McDonald’s across from Jake’s hotel.
Finally, nearing two in the morning, Jake rounded a dark street in front of the Orthodox Cathedral, passed a small park and ended up a block from the memorial monument in a position where he could observe the Russian’s approach. The only problem for this location was Bastion Hill Park on either side of a small canal which was drawn from the Daugava River and acted like a moat separating the Old Town from Latvia University.
Since Jake had not seen Ivan in more than twenty years, he had to guess what the man looked like now. Back when he was a KGB officer, Ivan was about six feet tall with broad shoulders. His blond hair had been kept a bit long over his ears, trying to
hide the fact that his left ear had been mangled as a child by a neighbor’s dog. Jake remembered Ivan’s best feature were his curious blue eyes. Ivan had this ability to make anyone who spoke with him feel like what they were saying was the most important thing he had ever heard.
Finally, Jake saw a man move over to the tall monument and light a cigarette. That was Ivan’s worst trait—he still smoked.
Jake walked a block and met Ivan in front of the monument. They didn’t shake hands; they didn’t man hug. They simply observed each other to verify what they were seeing.
Ivan shook his head. “You’ve gotten old, Jake.”
“You’re still just as ugly. But you fixed your ear.”
The Russian shrugged. “A few years back. A plastic surgeon took some skin from my ass and formed a new one for me.” He hesitated and then smiled. “No comments. I know what you want to say.”
“Your English has gotten much better,” Jake said.
The two of them started to walk back toward the bridge over the canal, which was the direction of Jake’s hotel. Once on the bridge they were out of the light that lit the monument.
Jake continued, “Now, what brings you to Riga?”
The Russian’s blue eyes shifted around the outer edge of the park. Like all good former intelligence operatives, the former KGB officer continued to shift his body so as to view the entire three-hundred sixty degrees around them within a normal conversation. With two operatives, they would be able to cover one eighty each, but this guy wasn’t trusting Jake.
Ivan took in a deep breath of cigarette, bringing the tip to a glowing orange. “I understand you just came from Estonia.”
Jake didn’t respond. Not immediately anyway. He didn’t want the former KGB officer to get the upper hand. “What makes you say that?”
Smiling, Ivan said, “I might be retired, but I’m not dead.”
Interesting, Jake thought. Ivan had to have contacts in the Estonian Internal Security Service. But who?
“What’s your point?” Jake asked.
“My point is. . .I thought you were out of the game years ago.”
“You too.”
They stared at each other, each waiting for the other to flinch—like chess players studying every move.
Jake decided to throw the dog a bone. “You tell me who told you that and I’ll tell you the truth.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“What is this?” Jake wanted to know.
Ivan hesitated while he lit a new cigarette from the first and flicked the old butt into the canal. “This, my friend, is a dangerous game.”
This was getting old, but Jake was sufficiently intrigued. “Tell that to Moscow.”
“This is so much bigger than just Moscow, my friend. This will have an impact on the entire world.”
“All right,” Jake said. “You didn’t call me here to speak in riddles. Spit it out. I’ve got a date with my feather bed. I’m getting too old for these late-night encounters. We couldn’t have met tomorrow over coffee in the Old Town?”
“Not likely. Your old Agency might let you retire, but my former organization doesn’t allow the same.”
“Your old organization doesn’t exist,” Jake reminded him.
Ivan let out a huff of air as he sucked in smoke and squinted when some drifted up to his eyes. “The KGB had rules. And we knew what those were. We had a relationship with the CIA.”
“It was not always friendly, Ivan.”
“Oh, I know that. But this new group is something different.”
“The SVR.”
The Russian nodded. “They are like children on the playground fighting for dominance. They think they can rule the world.”
Jake had encountered the SVR over the years since they morphed from the old KGB, but these meetings had generally not been under an official capacity. Yet, he had heard rumors that the hardliners within the SVR had taken over that organization. “What are you saying?”
“Think about it. They pull foreign agents and intelligence officers from the street and disappear them. Then, like the thugs they are, they extort foreign governments for their release. They have become like South American drug cartels.”
“To what end?”
Ivan lifted his chin and nodded his head. “That, my friend, is the question. To what end? I have a theory.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Jake asked. But he really did want to hear Ivan’s theory.
Sucking in the last of his cigarette, Ivan flicked this butt also into the canal.
“Have you noticed an increase in these protest groups in the region?” Ivan asked.
Jake had heard reports of these protests. In fact, that’s what his son had been called in to help with in Estonia. “This is not just happening in the Baltics,” Jake assured Ivan.
“Yes, but those in Germany and elsewhere are different. Those people have legitimate complaint. Their governments have let all of these foreign workers come into their countries. But these people don’t want to become Germans or Austrians or whatever. They want to bring their values from their home countries. They want their own laws. They don’t want to assimilate.”
He was having a hard time disputing his Russian friend’s logic. “Okay, so big picture. What do you see is going on?”
Ivan looked over Jake’s shoulder toward the Old Town and then back at Jake. “Our people are working to reunite the old Soviet Union.”
“Most everybody knows that. But how?”
“This is happening on many fronts, my friend. The SVR is behind the protests and the kidnappings. That is old KGB way. Like in Central America and Africa. The Russian leader is building relationships like in the past. Anyone who hates America or the West are instantly friends of Moscow. That is the second front. But the next front, the most dangerous one, will happen soon. And it will not start in Riga. It will not start in Estonia. It will start in Lithuania.”
That was Jake’s assessment already. And exactly what Kurt Jenkins had said. Did he just get confirmation from the Russians that this was going down?
“When?” Jake asked.
“As we speak. Air and sea assets are on the move. Tanks are on trains moving through Belarus.”
“When?” Jake repeated.
Ivan nodded and said, “As you would say, shit will hit the fan within two weeks.”
Two weeks? Jesus, there was no way NATO could respond to this threat that quickly. First they would have to believe there was a threat. And it took more than a proctologist to extricate heads from asses.
“Why are you telling me this?” Jake asked.
The Russian shifted his eyes around Jake again. The man was not just concerned, Jake thought. He was afraid. But afraid of what?
Finally, Ivan said, “Years ago, right here, you saved my life. Because my superiors thought my mission was a great success, I was promoted. And I continued to be promoted. When the KGB gave way to the SVR, I was put in charge of a major directorate. It is still classified, but I am sure you can imagine.”
Yeah, Jake had heard the man was in charge of the directorate which oversaw all external counter-intelligence of foreign officers, including the CIA. Amazingly, Jake now had the ear of both the former CIA director and the former SVR deputy director.
“Go on,” Jake said.
“As you might know, I was not brought up to the director level,” Ivan said wistfully. “I was allowed to retire a few years ago.”
“But you still have a lot of friends in the SVR.”
“Naturally.”
“I still don’t see how I can help,” Jake said. “Or why you are involved.”
“There are elements within our government who want to go back to the old ways. They are in a battle with the new people. These new people grew up learning about the great Soviet Union in books. But they have no idea how things really worked back then. They are using tactics not seen since the time of the gulags.”
Jake laughed. “I thought you still had gulags
.”
“You are not serious.”
Shrugging, Jake said, “Perhaps.” He stopped and considered Ivan’s disposition. He seemed not only scared now but hurt. “Why do you need me?”
“You must have someone in your old agency that you trust.”
This man knew more about Jake than he could have imagined. Ivan knew about Jake’s relationship with Kurt Jenkins. Maybe even his association with the current director, John Bradford.
Jake made a non-committal shrug.
Ivan pointed at Jake’s chest. “Tell them about this cabal. They must take this threat seriously.”
“Then what?”
“Are you familiar with the VSD?” Ivan asked.
Yeah, Jake knew of them. “Valstybes Saugumo Departmentas. The State Security Department of the Republic of Lithuania. What about them?”
“Remember this name. Sofia Sepp. She works for VSD.”
“And?”
“And go to Vilnius on Friday. Check in to The Narutis Hotel in the Old Town under your persona Jacob Konrad.” Ivan smiled. “Yes, I know about that legend.”
“Sofia Sepp, Narutis Hotel, Friday.” That gave him thirty-six hours. “What does she look like?”
Ivan pulled out his phone and pulled up an image. The woman looked similar to his German girlfriend, with high cheek bones and a strong jaw line. But this woman’s dark eyes were piercing. It was as if she were looking right through anyone observing her. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a long ponytail. Overall impression? A hot Baltic athlete. Sofia Sepp could have been a cousin of KAPO officer Kadri Kask.
“What does she want with me?”
“She will have to tell you that,” Ivan said. “I have given you more than enough to work with.”
Jake considered leaving and going back to his room a couple of blocks away, but then he remembered something. “Tell me, Ivan. How are you related to Hans Vaino?”
Ivan couldn’t hold back his shock. “I do not. . .”
“Cut the shit. I can see the family resemblance.”
Smiling, Ivan said, “I think you should still be working for the CIA.” Then he also looked like he would leave, but he continued, “He is my nephew. My sister’s son.”