by Trevor Scott
“I know that,” Jake said. He could continue to deny everything, but he needed information. “Let’s say hypothetically that I might have been out for a stroll last night with insomnia. I assumed Riga was a safe city. But then someone decided to open fire at me. What would you do in a situation like that?”
The curly-haired woman shrugged.
“I hope they weren’t friends of yours,” Jake said.
“That is absurd,” the SAB director said, and then looked at his officer. “Tell him.”
“One of the men who shot at you is an SVR officer named Aleksei. I have been working him for a while now. The other man is also SVR, I’m sure.”
“And you followed them to the meeting?” Jake asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Well I hope like hell you used better technique last night than you did this morning on us.”
Zaiga tightened her jaw and said, “I was told you were very dangerous, but that you were a friendly. I wanted you to see me.”
Perhaps, Jake thought. He’d let her off the hook. “I see.”
The SAB director took over the conversation. “Now, please, tell me why you were meeting with the former deputy director of the external counter-intelligence directorate of the SVR.”
Interesting. The Latvians knew more than Jake thought. “We are old adversaries,” Jake said. “He was telling me where to find good food in town. He said to avoid the Lido chains. It’s cheap food, but might do a trick on my intestines.”
The SAB director wasn’t buying Jake’s little story. Neither was the curly brunette. “At two in the morning? Sure. Has he not heard of texting?”
Jake shrugged.
After a long lull, the SAB director said, “Zaiga will escort you to our secure meeting room.” He checked the wall clock and added, “The daily briefing should be getting underway in a few moments.”
Jake traded a nod for the traditional parting handshake. Then he left the skeletal man behind in his office.
Once the three of them got on a different elevator, the curly-haired brunette punched in a pass code and the doors closed.
“Is he always such a cheerful man, Zaiga?” Jake asked.
She laughed. “That was animated for him.”
Karl chimed in. “I thought I might crush the man’s hand. But you have quite the grasp.”
Zaiga smiled at Karl, her eyes moving up and down his body, and she said, “I see how you were able to escape the Russians. Very impressive.”
They entered a large conference room in a sub-basement secure facility. The briefing was already in progress. Jake scanned the room and noticed a couple of familiar faces, including Olev Tamm, the General Secretary of Security Police of the Republic of Estonia. A young CIA analyst was trying to calm the nerves of the Baltic State leaders. Jake knew the CIA regional station chief, Anthony Paitrick, but only marginally. He had been a snot-nosed newbie in the Agency when Jake was already a seasoned officer. That was more than a couple decades ago. He doubted the man even remembered who Jake was after all these years. Somehow, SAB director, Oskars Liepa, had slithered his scrawny frame down to the conference room, sliding in just after Jake, Karl and Zaiga. The three of them stood along the back wall, since there were no more seats available in the room.
Jake whispered to Zaiga, “Are these mostly SAB?”
“SAB, Estonian KAPO, and VSD,” she said. VSD was state security of Lithuania.
“Can you point out the VSD?” he asked.
“Second row, far right. The two men and the woman.”
“She looks familiar. What’s her name?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know many from Lithuania,” Zaiga said. “But I know her, since we competed against each other in the Olympic biathlon. That’s Sofia Sepp.”
Interesting, Jake thought. That was the name of his contact that the Russian wanted him to meet in Vilnius in a couple of days. Did Ivan Bragin know this woman was in Riga? Perhaps.
“She must have one of those familiar faces,” Jake said. “Never heard of her.”
“She is a very accomplished woman,” Zaiga said. “Quite beautiful.”
Jake considered the woman’s features and saw that she sat as tall as the men with a posture similar to Zaiga, upright and alert. With the high cheeks and blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, this Sofia Sepp looked more Scandinavian or Slavic than Baltic. What did Ivan think she knew that could help Jake? And why wouldn’t she bring that up at a meeting of the minds like this instead of at a secret meeting with Jake at a hotel in Vilnius?
Suddenly, Anthony Paitrick saw Jake and didn’t seem too surprised, but somewhat happy that he had recognized his old colleague. Paitrick had always looked like a professor who couldn’t find his current classroom, let alone a spy in a haystack of spies. The last time Jake had seen the man was at Toni’s memorial service, and the two of them had not even talked then.
Paitrick slipped along the outer wall and approached Jake with his hand outstretched.
Jake shook the man’s hand firmly and then the Agency regional station chief pulled him aside so they could talk in private.
“I got a call late last night saying you were coming,” Paitrick said quietly.
“From who?”
“The director, John Bradford. He told me to give you every courtesy as a direct report from him.”
“Does that bother you?” Jake asked.
“Hell no. This is like a rookie quarterback getting tips from Joe Montana.” Paitrick stopped, his eyes moving past Jake to Karl. “I didn’t make the connection that Karl Adams was your son.”
“You were at Toni’s memorial service,” Jake reminded the man.
“I know. But I never met Karl at the time. Bradford told me he was your son.”
“I’d rather you keep that a secret,” Jake said.
“Of course. I understand.”
“If you had known he was my son would you have done more to find him in Russia?”
Paitrick looked a bit sheepish. “I’m sorry, Jake. The Riga station chief was fired a month ago without a replacement. I’m essentially covering all three Baltic States. I never even met Karl before he was embedded with the Estonians. We are extremely short handed up there, and here.”
“Why?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know. Assets have been pulled to Kiev dealing with things in the Ukraine. We’re not being back filled. We have a couple in the language pipeline, but that will take time. Karl is fluent in Russian, which is how he was tasked for the border duty by the Army.”
Jake understood manning issues. But he didn’t understand how his own government could not find sufficient recruits capable for the clandestine service in the Baltics.
“In my day we didn’t leave people hanging out to dry,” Jake said with considerable edge.
“I understand. We were about to make a move, but the director had us back off once he knew who was missing. I’m guessing that’s how you got involved.”
“I guess so.”
“And he was lost on Russian soil. If we had gone in.”
“I know. International incident. But not if I went in alone.”
Paitrick nodded. Then he added, “Did your son tell you the Agency is recruiting him?”
Jake let his eyes drift toward his son, and then back toward Paitrick. “No, he didn’t mention that.”
“What do you think?”
“I think he’d be a fucking idiot to take the job,” Jake said with grinding teeth.
“Good thing it’s not up to you,” Paitrick said, nudging Jake in the arm. “The Army controls him now. And they say he’s still on temporary duty with us.”
“He’s done his four years,” Jake reminded the man. “He can resign his commission at any time.”
“I know. That’s why I hope he’ll come to work for us pronto.”
Jake wasn’t sure how he felt about his son working for the Agency. But he also knew he had no real influence over Karl.
“I’ll need to debrief K
arl.”
“I’ve already done that,” Jake said. “I’ll forward my report to you and the director eventually.” Jake’s real reason for coming to Riga with his son had been twofold all along. First, he wanted to make damn sure that Anthony Paitrick knew that he was working this case. And more importantly, of course, had been his meeting the night before with the Russian. Actions were far more important than words in clandestine operations. Ivan Bragin’s words would have meant far less if two assassins had not tried to kill them both. Jake knew enough about the spy game to realize that Bragin could have set the whole thing up to lend credence to his story. But Jake didn’t think so. The threat was real, and so were the bullets flying his way last night.
“What do you think about the current state of events in the Baltics?” Paitrick asked.
“I think it’s a shit sandwich with extra mayo.”
Paitrick laughed. “That’s why I always liked you, Jake. You never hold back.” The Agency man thought for a moment, his eyes concentrating on the briefing going on, which showed Russian military movements. “What do you think Moscow has planned?”
Jake grunted. “World domination. If they thought they could get away with it, they’d drive their tanks all the way to Portugal just to secure a fine Port wine.”
“I’ve been briefing the same thing to Langley. You seem to have the director’s ear. Can you bring that home to him?”
Shaking his head, Jake said, “It isn’t Bradford you need to worry about, Anthony. It’s our civilian leadership at the very top. They’ve pulled back to pre-World War One mentality. All we need is another Franz Ferdinand moment and the world will explode. Maybe that’s what some people want.”
“On which side?”
“Exactly.” Then Jake pierced his eyes right through the station chief and added, “I just want to know what you plan on doing about it.”
Paitrick looked confused. “What can we do?”
“More than you are. There are good folks on both sides who know things aren’t as they should be.”
“I understand you had a little incident last night.”
“That was a shot across the bow,” Jake explained.
“I don’t follow you.”
“You should. I was meeting with Ivan Bragin.” Jake let that sink in.
“The Ivan Bragin?” Paitrick whispered into Jake’s ear.
“That’s right. And the shooters were coming for him not me.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows what Moscow has planned and he’s not happy about it.”
“What do we do, Jake?”
He didn’t want to mention the fact that he would meet with the Lithuanian intelligence officer in a couple of days, since he wasn’t entirely sure why Ivan Bragin wanted him to meet with her. But Jake needed to come up with a strategy. Fast.
“These street protests in all three of the Baltic nations are not a coincidence,” Jake said. “The SVR is making that happen. They’re trying to collapse the countries from within while they move their military assets through Belarus. Then, just like they did in the Crimea and Ukraine, they will declare that they’re moving in to protect ethnic Russians. The world will mostly yawn. NATO will come up with some declaration of incompetence, as will the UN. But it will just be words while the Russians are using real ammo. This is a Fifth Column strategy.”
Paitrick looked confused.
It was then that Jake knew what he had to do. He had no choice. He acknowledged the Agency station chief with a lift of his chin and then Jake went back to his son and the SAB officer, Zaiga Ulmanis. Jake’s only problem was how to keep Karl out of what he had planned.
Perhaps more importantly, he confirmed to himself why he had left full-time government employment with the Air Force and the Agency. He despised the constraint of conformity.
18
Learning nothing new at the intelligence briefing, Jake had at least accomplished a couple of things. He found out that most of the intelligence organizations were good at briefing on what could happen, and not great at getting their asses out on the street and doing what had to be done to secure their future. Jake knew that wasn’t entirely fair, since he had met a number of good intel officers in the Baltics. But they lacked leadership and direction. Maybe Jake could help with that. Also, he had been able to push the buttons on the regional Agency station chief, Anthony Paitrick. That was always fun.
It was late afternoon and Jake and Karl had left the SAB headquarters with food on their minds. Zaiga Ulmanis had accompanied them to a pizzeria in a cave-like place in the Old Town area a few blocks from their old hotel.
All three of them sipped on beers as they waited for their individual pizzas to show up.
“Tell me about this Aleksei character,” Jake said to Zaiga.
She mulled how to answer. “He’s a big guy. We believe he is not in charge of the SVR in the Baltic countries, but he is an important player. We think he started groups in Narva, Estonia before moving on to Riga and Vilnius.”
“Why not Tallinn?” Jake asked.
“I think I can answer that,” Karl said. “KAPO believes the SVR are sticking more to the traditional Russian-speaking enclaves.”
That made sense for Jake’s theory that the Russians will start with a brief ‘rescue’ mode into the Baltics, while they prepare for a wider war. The logic made sense to the Russians, but anyone with half a brain would see through that tenuous ruse.
“That’s correct,” Zaiga said. “Aleksei has formed a number of GONGOs in each country.”
“GONGOs?” Jake asked. He had heard the term too often recently, but he needed more specifics.
“Government Organized Non-Government Organizations,” Karl provided.
“Right,” Jake said. “Sounds like something right out of Orwell. Examples?”
“The big player in Riga is a group roughly translated to World Without Fascism,” Zaiga said. “The Kremlin has set up a number of these within Russia to prop up its government. But outside Russia they have become even more prevalent. . .and dangerous. You see, their funding comes from a number of wealthy organizations.”
“Tax-free groups like NGOs,” Jake surmised.
Zaiga nodded and sipped from her beer. “Exactly. But of course our government is not a Fascist regime. We are closer to market-based democratic capitalism than most of Western Europe.”
“That’s probably why the Russians want to change things,” Karl chimed in.
The Latvian woman nodded agreement.
Their pizzas came and they ate without speaking until they were done.
Then Jake decided to question how much she knew about various figures in Baltic intelligence, starting with the heads of the various organizations and then randomly asking about those other officers he knew, from Hans Vaino and Kadri Kask, to the recently mentioned Sofia Sepp. The latter was his target of inquiry, though.
She gave an honest assessment of each. Her boss Oskars Liepa was an unimaginative bureaucrat who found his way into the SAB through family ties. Olev Tamm, the KAPO director in Estonia, from what she knew, was a decent man. But he too was without major people skills. Zaiga had only met Kadri Kask at a conference, and she thought she was a good young officer. She had met Hans Vaino at that same conference, but she didn’t know much about him.
“And the Lithuanians?” Jake asked.
“I mostly know Sofia Sepp through our relationship on the Olympic biathlon teams,” Zaiga said. “I was a better shot, but she was superior on the skis. I understand her father is Estonian.”
That made sense to Jake, since Sepp could have been a relative of Kadri. Moving on, Jake asked about the head of the VSD, the state security department of the Republic of Lithuania. Zaiga didn’t know the man, but had heard that he was a reasonable boss. Yet, he too was in place because of nepotism. He was related to a former president of Lithuania.
Enough of the small talk, Jake thought. “What is your current mission?”
That caught Zaiga off gu
ard. “You are very blunt.”
“I can’t afford to play around the edges,” Jake said. “The Russians are on the move. I want to know what you have planned to mitigate their efforts.”
“Mitigate?” She furled her forehead with that word.
“Counter,” Jake explained. “How do you plan to beat the bastards?”
She thought about that. While she did, Karl got up to go to the bathroom.
Once he was gone, Zaiga asked, “Is your young associate seeing anyone?”
Jake wondered how to answer that. It wasn’t too long ago that he would have been trying to take that young woman to bed, but now he had been relegated to wingman status for his own kid. Of course, she didn’t know about that relationship.
“You’ll have to ask Karl that yourself,” Jake said. “But I believe he’s heading back to Tallinn tonight.”
She said something in Latvian and turned her mouth into a pouty frown.
“Where can I get my hands on this Aleksei?” Jake asked.
“For what reason?”
“First of all, I’m going to bitch slap him for trying to shoot me.”
“Bitch slap?” She said this just as Karl got back from the bathroom.
“Bitch slap?” Karl repeated. “What the hell did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Jake said. “I was explaining a couple of idioms to Zaiga. She also wanted to know if you would be working in Riga long. I told her you would be heading back to Tallinn tonight.”
“You did,” Karl said. “That’s news to me.”
Zaiga stood up and said, “I think you two need to talk while I. . .how do you say it. . .drain the lizard?”
Jake shrugged. “Usually a guy says that. But I’ll allow it.”
She shook her head as she wandered back to the WC.
Karl checked her out as she left. “Tell me you wouldn’t do that?”
“Alexandra would cut off the boys,” Jake said. “By the way, you’re getting a sister in a couple of months.”
“Seriously? I heard she was pregnant. Good job, old man.”
“You’re not too old to get your ass kicked. Now, back to the issue at hand. I thought you were into Kadri?”
“Oh, I’ve been into her,” he said with a broad smile.