Claire was beginning to feel that Scotty’s favorite operative wasn’t up to the task, but it was just a passing thought. She knew better. Or did she?
“He’s old navy. Brandson worked on the Glomar Explorer when they hoisted K-129 from the bottom of the sea. To him, Mauldin is more than just a happenstance target of opportunity. He sees this as a real chance for the agency, once again, to go after Russian submarine secrets.”
“OK, that explains some of the confusion I had, but why are you giving this assignment to me? Why not a Russian specialist?”
“Because, as you said, this operation is going to require military support, and you have more field experience working with them than anyone else in the directorate.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me. It’s hard to believe there’s no one in SE Division with a military background that can handle this assignment.”
“None with the experience that you have working with the military’s special operators, so you get the short straw, unless of course you think it’s too dangerous.”
She intentionally challenged his ego with the expectation that it would get the desired result.
This ain’t going to make Marcie happy, Mike thought. Another frickin’ TDY, and I haven’t been home for more than three months.
“OK, how about the military? Have they been given a warning notice?”
“Yes, they have. The command at Fort Bragg will be expecting you to give them an update,” Claire replied.
She stood.
“Based on what Dr. Peters tells me, we don’t have a lot of time, so you need to stop whatever it is Africa Division has you working on and turn your attention to putting a plan together, and you need to keep SE updated on your progress.”
She turned and walked toward the door and then turned back to look at Mike.
“Will you and Marcie be at the reception?”
“Yes, we plan on being there.”
“Good. I’ll tell Scotty. He’ll be pleased.”
She left. Mike looked around the room and focused on the world map affixed to a far wall. He got up and walked over to it. He studied it for several minutes, his eyes on the African continent and particularly Mozambique. He thought about Jim and their period of captivity. He was in command of the operation when they were captured and felt responsible for Jim’s continued confinement at the DEPOT, but there didn’t appear to be a damn thing he could do about it. He turned his attention to Western Russia.
How would a team get in and out of Russia, and how many men would it take to exfiltrate Mauldin?
***
Later that evening, after returning home, Mike told Marcie about the possibility of him having to go on another overseas operation. It was during dinner and soon after she had finished telling him that she was going to be accompanying the secretary on an overseas trip to Europe. As an aide to the secretary of state, Marcie knew that clandestine CIA operations were frequently used when diplomacy failed to achieve a desired foreign policy objective. However, being on the secretary’s staff didn’t mean that she always had knowledge of the decisions made by the president about or where to use the CIA for such purposes.
Marcie took a sip of wine, wishing that his trips were as benign as hers. She was tired of the extended periods of time he spent away and never knowing where he was going or when he would be back. She knew better than to get specific with him, but tonight, she needed a little more information than he had been willing to give her.
“I know you can’t tell me where you’re going, hon, but can’t you at least tell me when you’ll be leaving and how long you’ll be gone?”
“I’m guessing the trip will take place around the middle of October. I don’t expect to be gone more than two weeks at the most, depending on the weather—this will be a cold weather trip. Something that I’m not used to, babe. It’ll be totally different than some of my other trips.”
“Will you be going by yourself?”
He thought he had given her enough information, but obviously, he hadn’t.
“I’ll have company —a handful of men from Fort Bragg. I’ll be going down there to visit with them next week.”
Marcie got up and left the table, not mad at him, but at the damn CIA for continually sending him out to do their dirty work. She knew what she was getting into when they married but didn’t believe it was going to be this hard. He told her once of being offered a division chief’s job, which in her mind would mitigate the need for him to do field work; maybe she’d talk to him about it when he got back.
Mike knew she wasn’t happy as he watched her get up and leave the table. He put the plates and silverware in the dishwasher and then joined her on the couch. Marcie had a movie on. He sat down next to her, and she cuddled up next to him.
“That’s when I’m going on my trip,” she said.
Chapter Three
The Note
Things had changed dramatically for Nina Pukhova Lubikov after graduating from Moscow State University where she had obtained a degree in journalism with a minor in English. Her grandfather had been a freelance journalist and a correspondent for the Times, a British national newspaper. Had it not been for some of the disturbing stories her mother had told her, Nina might never have made the decision that she did that day in English class.
The idea seemed to appear from nowhere. It was a spontaneous thought that appealed to her as she sat and listened to the guest speaker: the press attaché from the US Embassy. He had been invited to speak to the class about the various journalism fields in the United States. She wrote a note and managed to pass it to the attaché after his presentation. It was a simple note and would not mean much to most people, but placed in the right hands, it could be interpreted another way. She was in her final year of college and figured it would be some time before they approached her—if ever that was to be the case.
She was sitting on a bench in Gorky Park a year later when a man sat down beside her.
“I read a note—one I think was penned by you—claiming to be the granddaughter of Kim Philby.”
He was in his early fifties, she guessed, but not much older than that. He had a beard and wore a brimmed hat and eyeglasses. She looked at him and then around to see who could be within hearing distance before responding.
“Yes, I’m his granddaughter, but most people don’t know that I wrote that note.”
“Well, if you meant for it to reach people at the CIA, it did. We move slowly, sometimes out of necessity—for your safety as well as ours. In your case, we thought it best to wait until you had graduated from college before contacting you. You’re working at a local newspaper now. Are you happy with that work?”
“It’s the reason I went to journalism school. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It could be that what one trains for in school is not what makes one happy later in life. It’s good to know that you have adapted well to your desired profession, but taking on another profession might be more meaningful, assuming you are still of the same mind you were last year when you penned that note. Commit this address to memory. If you still want to work with us, meet me there one week from today at seven in the evening.”
He got up and walked away, leaving Nina to herself and wondering if the decision she was about to make would have pleased her mother or even her grandfather.
***
A week later, Nina walked down a street and stopped in front of an old apartment building. She recited the address to herself once again to make sure she was at the right place. She entered the building and walked up one flight of stairs, stopping in front of a door. She reached out, knocked, and waited nervously, not knowing what to expect. The door opened. She felt a bit at ease seeing the man who had sat beside her a week earlier in Gorky Park. He could tell she was nervous.
“Come in, Nina. There’s nothing to be concerned about.”
She walked in and saw a woman sitting in a chair near a table. A bulky looking contraption, a machine of some sort, sat on the t
able. Nina stood and waited, not knowing what to do.
“There are a few formalities that we need to get through before we can begin to discuss your new role as an asset,” he said. “We have to make certain that you are who you say you are and that you are making the decision to work with us on your own volition and not at the direction of someone from Lubyanka. Please sit down in the chair next to Pauline. She’s going to administer a polygraph examination, and once we’re done with that, we can turn our attention to more important things.”
“This won’t take long,” Pauline said as she connected electronic and mechanical tethers extending from the machine to Nina’s body. When properly attached, the tethers would enable Pauline to measure Nina’s blood pressure, pulse, respiration, and skin conductivity while she asked her several questions.
“This is a practice question, Nina. Please answer yes or no.”
After an hour of testing, Nina had a strong reaction to one of the questions.
“Are you working for the KGB, which is now called the FSB?”
Nina relaxed a bit and then answered no. She was immediately asked a related question.
“Do you believe in the FSB’s mission?”
Again, she answered no. After a clarifying question, Nina’s response convinced Pauline that the young Russian was not a plant by the FSB and that she had answered all the questions truthfully. When it was all over, Pauline congratulated Nina on passing the examination. She packed up her equipment and left the apartment.
Nina was pleased that it was over and so, too, was the man who would become her handler for the next two years. In his report to headquarters advising that she had passed the polygraph, the operative also provided the rationale that Nina gave for wanting to work with the CIA: it was because of her disdain for the way her grandfather had been treated by the KGB and the effect it had on her mother’s health.
“She’s a good one,” he concluded, and from that day forward, Nina Lubikov’s true name would never be used in CIA electronic correspondence or spoken unless the environment was deemed to be secure from surveillance. She was given the pseudonym Tatianna Larina—a name selected from a novel written by the famous Russian novelist Alexander Pushkin.
Chapter Four
Flashback
It took almost four weeks for Shocklee to put a tentative plan together and to brief the special operators at Fort Bragg and to inform the field stations of his concept for conducting the operation. He had determined the size of the team, the best place to be inserted, and the mode of transportation to get the team in and out of Russia. He felt good about the plan but realized that it would require significant input from the Moscow and Tallinn Stations.
Estonia, being a friendly country with border access to Russia, appeared to be the best infiltration point. Mike liked the coastal area near Valaste as the entry point into Estonia and calculated the distance from there to Saint Petersburg to be roughly 100 miles overland, as the crow flies. From an ops security perspective, he didn’t see a reason the station in Tallinn needed to know the objective of the mission. Also, as for the Estonians, keeping the liaison service in the dark about the operation would allow the government bureaucrats to deny any knowledge about the operation if the team ran into trouble coming back into Estonia with Mauldin.
From looking at a map of Saint Petersburg and overhead imagery of the institute, Mike figured a team of no more than five would be adequate to nab Mauldin and make their way back to an exfiltration point. The size of the team could be adjusted up or down based on the type and level of support they could get from Moscow Station assets. He needed to wait for the input from Tallinn Station before being able to send something to Brandson in Moscow.
Finally, Mike reaffirmed his previous thinking and concluded that the navy was best equipped to support the operation. He briefed Windstrum and got her agreement on his preliminary approach before sending his first message to the COS in Tallinn. The message was classified TOP SECRET with the subject line “Operation NEEDFUL QUEST.” The message was short and succinct.
Request COS advise support for subject operation. Tentative plans call for an ops team of five men to be inserted into Russia via Estonia—date to be determined, but within the next four to five weeks. Exfiltration support will be required ten days after infiltration date. Team will be deploying via submarine with plans to enter Estonia near Valaste, unless the station advises of another location. The team will disembark from a navy sub and use an inflatable boat with outboard motor to get to a rendezvous point identified by the station. Station is to advise regarding the best area to cross the border into Russia and provide asset assistance re transportation and storage of boat and equipment. Also, provide security protocol for initial rendezvous with station asset. Team leader will be identified as Mike. This is an immediate action requirement. Please advise soonest.
While waiting for a response from Tallinn, Shocklee decided to pay a visit to the military folks at Fort Bragg. He had worked with the command on several operations during the past ten years. The command at Bragg is a subcomponent of the US Special Operations Command headquartered at MacDill Air Force Base in Florida. While en route, he thought about the relationships he had developed with some of the SEALs and other “special operators” with whom he had worked in the past. They were all great patriots.
Upon arrival at Pope Field, which was once the main runway of Pope Air Force Base before being realigned to the control of Fort Bragg under the Base Closure and Realignment Commission, he walked off the DDO’s plane, a Citation 10, expecting to be met by someone from the command, but not the commanding general. Mike was surprised when he was greeted by the general with a familiar handshake.
“Didn’t expect to be met by you, General,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Same here, Mike. I received a stand-up warning for an impending operation, but nothing more. When I saw that it was you who would be giving the briefing, it didn’t take me long to figure out who would be running the operation on the ground. Get in. Let’s head to the ops building. I want to hear more.”
As they drove away, the pilot was already turning the Citation 10 around and taxiing toward the runway. Upon arrival at the Secure Tactical Operations Building, Mike saw three officers standing by when they entered the facility. He nodded at them and followed the general into the briefing room. They had walked right past the officers and the clerk without the general saying a word to anyone.
“You’re not inviting them in?” he asked the general as they seated themselves.
“No, not yet. No need to until I hear more from you. Tell me what’s going on. What are we up against?”
“Something altogether different from some of the other ops we’ve been involved with.”
Shocklee spent fifteen minutes giving the general an outline of the operation and the CIA’s rationale for going after Dimitry Mauldin. The general listened and was quick to assess and identify some of the security constraints.
“That’s going to be one hell of an operation. Looks to me like the mission can best be served by assigning the work to a SEAL team. Don’t you agree?”
“That was my thinking.”
“Good. No use in me taking up more of your time and you of mine. I’ll send in the unit commander so you two can get on with your work.”
The general stood, and they shook hands again.
“Let me know if you run into any problems getting this op off the ground,” he said and then turned to leave the room.
He walked out, and moments later, a navy officer walked in. After delivering another briefing, the unit commander informed Shocklee that he would be working with a team from his specialized boat squadron dedicated to maritime operations. This would be his first time working with that unit, so Mike requested a meet-and-greet session with the team leader and three of his men.
“I can arrange it, but they’re out on a training exercise. I’m sure you can get a room at the Landmark Inn here on base if you wa
nt to spend the night and meet with them tomorrow.”
Mike wanted to get to know the men he’d be taking into harm’s way, and he didn’t have to be home until sometime the following afternoon. He and Marcie had plans to attend a wedding reception for Claire and Scott Sandowski later the following evening, but there was nothing else on Mike’s schedule that would preclude him from staying.
“Yeah, sure, I can stay overnight. Let’s see if I can get a reservation. I need to meet these men. I’ve got time now, which may not be the case in the coming weeks.”
The Landmark Inn was located within walking distance, about a half mile or so, to one of the larger base exchanges. The commander had other business to attend to but waited outside to ensure that Shocklee had gotten a room before leaving. Minutes later he saw the CIA operative coming out and walking back to the car.
“Room’s taken care of, Commander. See you tomorrow.”
“Sorry, I can’t stick around. I’ve got to catch a plane to retrieve some of my men who are out on that training exercise I told you about. I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow morning, if that’s OK.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for all the assistance today.”
“No thanks necessary.”
As the officer drove away, Mike walked in the direction of the base exchange. On the way, he used his cell phone to call CIA dispatch and canceled his afternoon pickup and arranged for one the same time the next day. While at the exchange, Mike bought a small bottle of Jack Daniels, a six pack of ginger ale, a toothbrush, and some toothpaste. Being in the exchange reminded him of his days in the corps and being stationed at Camp Pendleton. On the way out, he stopped at a fast food place and bought a burger and some fries, and then headed back to the inn.
Mike sat in bed, leaning back against the headboard watching the evening news. He reached for the drink sitting on the nightstand and flushed down the last bid of food he had just eaten. He turned down the TV volume and reached for his cell phone. He wanted to let Marcie know that he wouldn’t be coming home as planned.
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