Claire
She attached the article, pressed the send button, and then typed another message with the same attachment and sent it to Brandson in Moscow. It was a short one-line message.
Immediate action: Task Tatianna to find out why the Russians had a small sub in Sweden’s territorial waters during the joint operation.
A short while later, the Director of Central Intelligence (DCI) responded to Windstrum’s earlier note.
When is the sub due to surface, and will we have satellite coverage?
That answered that, she thought and responded to him almost immediately.
Sub will surface Saturday midnight, J. D., 4:00 p.m. our time. We have scheduled satellite coverage for their first pick up point.
***
The Americans had been aboard the Dutch Walrus class submarine for almost two weeks. They were more than ready when Captain Marcus gave orders to leave Swedish territorial waters and to navigate a heading for Estonia. None of the men aboard the sub had heard about the reporting coming out of Sweden until reaching the Estonian naval base at Tallinn. It wasn’t a big concern for Captain Marcus when he was told of the reporting by Estonian naval officials. He had been given a high-priority mission, which he intended to complete, and the Americans concurred.
“They’ll be more concerned about their own sub than they will be about us,” he told Shocklee. “We’ll navigate to the drop-off point, staying just outside Estonian territorial waters, and then and your men can commence your little joy ride to the shoreline. Afterward, I’ll turn the Walrus around and head back in the direction of the Baltic Sea.”
It was almost midnight when they surfaced in the Gulf of Finland, fifteen miles offshore and situated between the small cities of Valaste and Martsa, Estonia. Another fifty miles on an easterly heading and the sub would have entered the territorial waters claimed by Russia. At midnight, four Navy SEALs and Mike Shocklee climbed out the hatch of the Dutch submarine. The submariners had already inflated the boat and attached the motor to the transom. They placed their rucksacks into the boat and climbed in. The submariners watched as the boat sped away and then quickly climbed back down and secured the hatch. The submarine was on the surface for no more than fifteen minutes, insufficient time for the Russians to become suspicious of their activity. Mike looked back and saw it beginning to disappear, thinking that a week was a long time before the sub would be back to pick them up. He snapped a loaded magazine into the mini AR-15 and turned toward the shoreline.
Time seemed to stand still as they motored toward the shoreline looking for a light signal—one that would be repeated every fifteen minutes between midnight and two in the morning. With the moon high in the sky, the driver was maneuvering the boat parallel to the shoreline when Mike spotted the light.
“There it is,” he said, while pointing toward the signal.
Mike raised his flashlight to initiate acknowledgment of the signal. Success of the operation could well depend on their ability to maintain radio silence, and they were all disciplined in that regard. Hand signals, light signals, and oral commands would be the principal means of communicating with each other while inside Russia; however, they each carried radios. Two frequencies had been designated for their use during the operation. One for on-the-ground tactical use and another to communicate via satellite with CONTROL at CIA’s Ops Center.
As the team leader, Mike was designated as CHARLIE/6. Rick was designated as ALPHA/5 and the other three SEALs were WHISKEY/2, BRAVO/4, and LIMA/8—nonsequential radio call signs to confuse the Russians about how many were in the group should their transmissions be detected, recorded, and, subsequently, decrypted. Mike had been briefed regarding Russia’s use of frequency hopping scanners to monitor and record radio transmissions and, thus, warned to keep airtime to the minimum.
They all saw the light this time: three short flashes, followed by a three-second pause, and then three long flashes. It was a confirmation response from the asset; everything was going just as planned.
“That’s our man. Head in,” Mike stated.
***
Windstrum and the DCI watched a large monitor as digital feed from a KH-11 geosynchronous satellite operated by the National Reconnaissance Office showed the image of a man walking from a tree line heading toward men climbing out of a boat.
“Well, we know they’ve made it to Checkpoint Alpha,” stated Windstrum. “We’ll have to wait another thirty-six hours to verify they’ve been picked up at Checkpoint Charlie.”
“Any concerns in that regard?” asked the DCI.
“Not really,” Claire replied. “The asset picking them up has been on the payroll for a few years. She’s extremely cautious and has been trained for the op.”
The DCI had a look of surprise on his face.
“Come on, J. D.,” she stated. “You didn’t think that all of our assets were men, did you?”
The director didn’t respond to the joking comment the way some would have expected.
“Let me know when they’ve reached the safe house, Claire, or sooner if they run into difficulties.”
He turned and walked out into the main control room and then headed toward the exit. He opened the hallway door and looked back into the room before leaving the Ops Center. He saw Windstrum and the duty officer in conversation. She seemed concerned, but he didn’t have time to go back to see if there was a problem. It was late Saturday afternoon, and he had a dinner engagement and needed to get home and dressed. Windstrum thanked the duty officer for the information and mulled over what to do about it. Hopefully, the vehicles and whoever was using them would be gone by the time the team got there. She decided to let Shocklee continue with the mission without alerting the DCI of the problem they’d be facing.
***
Earlier, thousands of miles away on the Estonian shoreline, the moonlight blanketed everything below with a soft white glow. It was a perfect night for a clandestine rendezvous. The team got out of the boat and were pulling it onto the shore when Mike saw a figure emerge from the tree line. He stood watching them. Mike was expecting a Finnish fisherman, the Tallinn Station asset who was going to play a significant role in supporting the operation. He was pretty sure the man observing them was his contact, but he needed to confirm his bona fides. He handed his rifle to Rick and removed a Glock 9mm pistol from a holster strapped to his side. With guarded optimism, he walked toward the individual with the Glock held behind his back. The fisherman stepped forward. Mike couldn’t see the knife that he held in his hand, cleverly concealed and ready to be thrown at a moment’s notice.
The SEALs remained near the boat in a kneeling, defensive position watching the two men who had stopped a few feet from each other.
Mike spoke first.
“Is the fishing good in this area?”
“Yah, it will be better in the morning,” the man said, his heavy Finnish accent an indication that he was the right man.
“That’s good to know,” Mike replied. He saw the man remove a sheath from his beltline and secured the knife he had been holding.
“You’re safe with me, Mister, but we need to leave as quickly as possible. Come on.”
“It’ll take us a few minutes to get ready,” Mike stated, holstering his weapon.
He turned to face the SEALs, pumped his arm in the air, and hurried back toward them. They jumped into action. Minutes later, the SEALs had removed their rucks from the boat—each weighing about fifty pounds. The outboard motor was removed from the transom. The valve caps were unscrewed, the boat deflated, and the heavy-duty skin neatly folded around the transom so that it could be carried by two men. One muscular, heavyset, SEAL affixed specially designed straps to the 180-pound motor, and the others helped as he strapped it on as if a rucksack. The remaining SEALs put their rucks on—Mike too. He took his rifle from Rick, and the two of them grabbed the straps to the extra ruck lying on the ground. They headed toward the Finn, moving inland just as their practice sessions had gone two weeks earlier:
Mike and Rick carrying the extra ruck, the SEAL carrying the outboard motor, followed by the two remaining SEALs carrying the deflated boat.
“It’s a three-hour ride from here to the border near Narva, and its one thirty-now,” stated the Finn to Mike and Rick as they approached his position. He turned and started walking. “I need to get you men there well before daybreak, as I need to be seen at the pier in my hometown when the sun comes up. The van is parked about another fifty meters on the other side of the trees. Just follow me.”
They did, making their way up the shoreline and on through some coastal trees to find the van parked in an isolated spot. It was an old white van with a fish emblem on each side, and it smelled of fish when the Finn opened the rear doors.
“Jesus, we gotta frickin ride in here for three hours?” complained one of the SEALs who had peeked inside.
“Just put the gear and the boat in and climb in,” ordered Rick without mentioning the SEAL’s name.
The Finn walked to the front of the van, opened the cab door, and took out a thermos. It was filled with coffee. He knew that it would be cold riding in the back of the van, especially given the time of year. It was mid-October, and the farther they moved inland, the greater the chances of snow, which could slow the Americans down, wherever the hell it was that they were heading. He returned to join the others at the back of the van.
“This might help with the ride. It’s going to be cold,” the Finn said, tossing the thermos to the man giving orders to the others.
Mike was sitting in the passenger seat as they left the area heading east along the coastal road toward Narva. It was a bumpy ride for several miles before they reached a paved highway. The ride and the thought of the SEALs confined in the back of the van reminded him of the day they were captured by Colonel Njonjo, the renegade colonel in Zimbabwe. They had been placed in the back of a vehicle with their hands tied and driven from Harare to an isolated camp in the mountains of Mozambique. It had been a long and unpleasant ride, and the beginning of their torturous period of captivity.
Mike suddenly realized that the drug Dr. Peters had developed, if it was as good as everyone seemed to think, might help Graybill recover from his illness. He put the thought in his memory bank and stored it.
He looked over at the Finn and smiled. The man must have wondered what he had been thinking. He reached between the seats for a thermos and handed it to Mike, who uncapped it and poured them coffee. They drank in silence and spoke very little as the Finn drove them closer to the drop-off point, Checkpoint Bravo. Even though he was a trusted and vetted asset of Tallinn Station, Mike didn’t know the man, and operational security was his responsibility, so he remained on the alert and tracked their movement on a map that rested on his lap. Finally, the Finn turned off the asphalt-paved road onto a dirt road that circled Narva in a southerly direction. Thirty minutes later, on the outskirts of the city, he drove the van across one of the few bridges in the area that crossed the Narva River, which flows from Lake Peipus into the Narva Reservoir and then into the Baltic Sea.
Mike realized that they were reaching the drop-off point. He folded and secured his map as the Finn turned the van slightly off the road and stopped. He got out quickly and opened the rear doors of the van. The SEALs climbed out, happy to be out of their confined environment. Rick handed the thermos back to the Finn.
“Thanks,” he said.
The Finn took the thermos and turned to Shocklee.
“It’s your show from here on. Be mindful of the area once you cross the border. Russian forces have been seen near the border in recent days, and you don’t want to run into them.”
“I know, Liam. We’ll be heading into the lion’s den.”
The Finn was surprised that the team leader had addressed him by his name. It was the first time he had spoken his name during the entire trip. Perhaps it was an acknowledgment of trust or recognition of the risk he was taking to help them complete their mission.
“I’ll see you at this same spot Sunday evening, eight days from now. The alternate, in case of a delay, is twenty-four hours later at the same time, eight o’clock. Good luck.”
Liam got back into the van, turned it around, and sped off in the direction from which they had come.
Rick looked at the GPS watch affixed to his wrist. It was 0400. They had made better time than the Liam had expected. “I’ll take the lead,” he stated. “Mike, you’re in the middle; ready when you are.”
“OK, move out. We’ve got nine miles to make before sunrise.”
While officials in several Baltic States and ministry officials in Moscow were focusing their attention on reported submarine activity in Swedish waters, the insertion team clandestinely crossed the Estonian border into Russia. They moved along the hardpan dirt road for a brief period before Rick veered them off the road and into the forest to avoid the guards who manned the Estonian and Russian border control stations. It would take them two hours of careful maneuvering to make their way around the checkpoint area before they could get back onto the side of the road to speed up their pace. Once there, it would be another two miles before they reached the turnoff lane that would lead them to the rendezvous point.
The hunting cabin was located near a finger of water that extended in a northerly direction from the reservoir. It was three miles from the turnoff point to the cabin. The station asset was scheduled to meet them midmorning on Monday. Mike had planned for the team to reach the cabin before daybreak on Sunday morning, about 0800 for that time of the year. However, for contingency purposes, he had factored in a full day of extra time just in case they ran into trouble getting there. If they got to the cabin without any delay, they’d have a full day to rest and acclimate before meeting the asset and moving on to the safe house.
They had successfully circumvented the border control area and were back standing on the edge of the road. Rick looked at his watch again. He felt that they were a little behind schedule.
“Quick time. Let’s go,” he said.
They had been jogging for thirty minutes or less when Rick saw headlights in the distance. He raised his arm to halt their movement and then motioned for the team to take cover. They moved off the road into the forest. They waited several minutes before hearing the noise of an engine. Seconds later, a troop carrier passed them by.
Mike whispered to Rick, “That’s probably the shift change for the guards at the control station.” They waited a bit longer just to make certain no more vehicles were coming. Finally, Mike gave the order to move out. “Let’s go.”
The weather had started to turn nasty and a light snow was falling, but it wasn’t cold enough for snow to stick and accumulate on the ground. They had reached the turnoff lane, knowing that it would be another two hours before they got to the cabin and could take a much-needed break.
It was early dawn when Rick, once again, halted their movement. He looked at his watch. He turned to speak with Mike.
“The cabin should be about half a mile ahead of us. Have you noticed the rutted tire tracks?”
Mike looked down at them. “I have, but I can’t tell how long ago they were made.”
“Me either. I suggest we wait here while I send one of the men ahead to see if anyone is at the cabin.”
“Copy that.”
They huddled around each other and quietly waited for LIMA/8 to return, and when he did, the news he brought wasn’t good.
“The place is occupied,” he told them.
“By who?” Mike asked.
“Some military men I suppose, but I didn’t see them. There are two vehicles parked in front of the cabin: an SUV and what looks to be a troop carrier, the equivalent of one of our five-ton trucks capable of carrying a squad of men. I could see the 6th Army logo on both vehicles. I think they’re all inside the cabin because there’s smoke coming out the chimney.”
Mike whispered a profanity. “Of all the rotten damn luck.”
“What now?” Risk asked, looking at the CIA operativ
e.
“We wait them out. We’ve got about twenty-six hours before our ride is supposed to be here. It could be that those men were patrolling the area and bedded down in the cabin for the night, or they got here earlier and are killing time before having to head back to their unit. If they’re not gone by midday, I’ll have to alert headquarters to delay her arrival until Tuesday morning or until we can confirm that the area is secure.”
“Whoa, your contact is a woman? You never told us that.”
“Wasn’t any need to. Per the station, she’s pretty damn good at what she does and that’s all that mattered to me.”
“Well, that’s comforting to know. About the call to headquarters, it’ll be a risk explaining what’s happened out here. I wouldn’t take too much time explaining our situation. Some unit might pick up on a lengthy encrypted satellite transmission, which could cause another problem.”
Mike didn’t need Rick telling him something that he already knew. That said, he also knew that he couldn’t afford to let the asset get on the road heading to their location with the 6th Army still occupying the cabin and him not knowing when they planned to leave. How long will they have to wait? It was a nagging question that concerned him, given the weather situation. It was cold and a delay of more than a day or two could make it damn near impossible to complete the mission and get back to the exfil point in time to make their rendezvous with the Dutch sub.
Mike’s mind wandered a bit as he looked at the SEALs crouched down near him. The thought of possibly losing men under his command, as had been the case in Zimbabwe, entered his mind and it was an uncomfortable feeling. He pushed the thought aside and turned his attention back to the immediate problem confronting them. He looked at Rick.
“Copy that. CONTROL and the satellite gurus back at headquarters will be monitoring the checkpoint in anticipation of our arrival. They may have already spotted the 6th Army vehicles. If so, they will know that we’ve run into a problem. How about we move to the north side of the cabin away from the reservoir and find a place to hunker down where it won’t be as cold?”
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