Asset

by Jack Kassinger

  Minutes later, Ron was sitting behind the steering wheel and Rick was in the passenger’s seat.

  “Let’s go,” Rick said. Ron started the lorry, put it in gear, and drove away.

  Allison motioned for Otto and Sakke to get the tow truck hooked up to the van. Five minutes later, they too drove away. Allison closed the warehouse door and got into her car. She sat there for a few moments, glad that it was all over. She started the engine and left for home to send Randy another COVCOM report.

  ***

  Brandson was preparing to head home for the evening. He hadn’t heard back from Windstrum, and it bugged him. He couldn’t image what was taking so long to get the director’s approval to bring Nina out. If there wasn’t a message in by morning, he’d have to call her to find out the delay.

  Shit, why wait.

  Brandson sat back down to type a message when he suddenly remembered that the diversion team was still out on the street. He stopped what he was doing and picked up the phone. He punched an extension number for the team control officer. She answered.

  “Call the team and tell them to wrap it up. The op is over. Bring them back to the embassy.”

  He finished typing his message and headed home for the evening.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  No Day for a Walk in the Park

  Mike laid restlessly in the back of the lorry. He didn’t know what started him thinking about the night he and Marcie went to the evening Sunset Parade at Eighth and I, but that’s what was on his mind—not getting to the cabin or making it back across the border, but his time with Marcie. The evening performance was the last one of the year for the marines stationed at marine barracks on Eighth and I Streets, SE, Washington, DC. It had taken place in August, just two months before they launched the operation to go after Mauldin. It wasn’t so much the parade he was thinking about, but the love he and Marcie shared with each other during the course of the evening.

  Mike drifted off to sleep and awoke hours later as Ron stopped the truck about a mile from the cabin and turned off the engine and the lights. They got out. Ron headed toward the cabin on foot, and Rick moved to the back of the truck to give the team an update. He loosened the ropes and pulled the tarp open to look in. He had to shield his eyes from the glowing fluorescent light.

  “We’re about a mile from the cabin,” he told them. “We haven’t seen any tire tracks, but I’ve sent Ron ahead to check the place out.” He noted that Nina was sitting close to Mike. “The cab is warm, Nina, if you want to come up front. You too, Mike,” he added.

  “I’m good,” Mike replied.

  “Me, too,” Nina said.

  “OK, sit tight then. Frank. Guard duty. A hundred yards back. Step on it.”

  Mike noticed the bark in Rick’s voice, as did the others.

  Frank looked at Charlie and then nodded toward Mauldin. “You got him?”

  “I got him,” replied Charlie.

  Frank jumped out of the truck. He was stopped by Rick before leaving.

  “Ron will need to know if someone is coming up behind us. Be that the case, use the radio to give us an alert. Otherwise, three squelch clicks from my radio will be your signal that the coast is clear for us to head on in.”

  “Copy that,” Frank stated, as he walked away, heading down the lane.

  Rick watched him for a minute and then turned to face the rear of the truck. Intentionally or not, he left the tarp open and walked to the front of the truck where he assumed a defensive position while waiting for Ron to return.

  Mike looked at his watch. He was feeling much better. It was almost ten—eight hours from the time they first entered the gate to take Mauldin. He looked about to see the scientist sitting next to one side of the truck bed. His hands were tied to a side slat with the use of plastic ties. One of the team members had used the hood as a gag. It had been twisted and tightly tied around the man’s head and over his mouth and ears. Charlie noticed Mike staring at Mauldin.

  “He came to about two-and-a-half hours ago, Mike, and started rambling pretty loud. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him. Rather than searching your ruck for the serum and us not knowing how much to use, we decided it was best to keep him awake for a spell.”

  “Good move. The doc said we needed to keep him conscious for a few hours in between knockout sessions.”

  “Now that we know that, I’m about to bust a gut. I need to take care of nature’s business. Will you be OK if I disappear for a few minutes?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Be back in a few then.” Charlie crawled to the opening at the rear of the truck and slid down out of sight.

  “Marcie your wife, Mike?” Nina asked, catching Mike by surprise. She saw the questioning look on his face, and before he could say anything, she provided some additional information. “You said her name a few times in your sleep. I figured she was someone very special the way you were saying her name.”

  “Yes, Marcie’s my wife. We’ve been married a little over a year now. Did I—”

  “Don’t worry,” interjected Nina, “you didn’t say anything to be concerned or embarrassed about. As I said before, you just mentioned her name a couple of times; that was all.”

  They heard Charlie getting back in and closing up the tarp.

  “When we get to the cabin, Mike, I need to talk to you about my situation. Allison told me about the BOLO. I assume she told you as well.”

  “Yes, she did, and yes, we need to talk, but later.”

  It didn’t take Ron long to get to the cabin and check it out. The place was empty. He had been gone for about forty-five minutes when he returned and gave them the good news. Rick keyed the handset on his radio three distinct times. Ten minutes later, they were loaded up and heading in toward the cabin.

  Not much was said as they got out. Everyone walked into the cabin, including Mauldin, who was being led in by Frank. Rick appeared to be concerned, probably Mike too, as the weather had changed, and it had started to snow. It was eleven o’clock by the time they settled in for the evening.

  ***

  Keeping late hours at the Lubyanka wasn’t unusual for Nikolai and his deputy, Grigori, especially this day, when they knew the CIA was running an operation on the back streets of Moscow. The chief was certain that this was the day one of them planned to make a clandestine meeting with a spy from within their own government, but nothing had happened, or had it? Had one of the Americans alluded the surveillance team to make the meeting? It was a question that kept nagging at Nikolai for most of the afternoon.

  After being informed that one of the men who helped kidnapped the MOD scientist had been identified as an American, Grigori walked into the Nikolai’s office. He had decided to bring his boss in on what had transpired during the afternoon in Saint Petersburg. After earlier declaring the surveillance team to be totally incompetent, he wanted to get Nikolai to focus on something besides the CIA operation.

  “You put the border guard on alert because some yahoos abducted a demented scientist from a hospital in Saint Petersburg?” Nikolai asserted.

  “Yes, sir. I believed, at the time, it was the right thing to do, and we just learned that one of the men was or, may still be, a US Navy SEAL.”

  “You sure about that, Grigori? How in the hell do you know this?”

  “The abduction was captured on video. We ran facial images captured from the institute security video and against those in our database. We got a hit. A VEKEA agent identified one of the men as a US SEAL. The photo was taken in 2008 in Baghdad.”

  “Bullshit. Was the Iranian on our payroll at that time? And before you answer my question, how do we know he didn’t get the damn picture from the Internet?”

  “I’m certain our analysts validated the source and information about the image before it was entered into our database.”

  “Well, if it is the American military, what the hell would they want with a demented old scientist?”

  “That’s the part that I was about to
tell you. According to the MOD official, Dimitry Mauldin, the man kidnapped, once headed up a highly classified stealth technology research program to enhance operational capabilities of our submarine fleet. He was placed in the institute by the MOD due to a serious mental breakdown for observation and treatment.”

  “Humph.” The director raised an eyebrow as he thought about the Saint Petersburg incident. He spoke a few seconds later. “Two US operations going down at the same time doesn’t make sense, unless one is a diversionary tactic. If this scientist is as important as the MOD believes, then it could be that we’ve been chasing our tails here in Moscow while the real operation was taking place in Saint Petersburg.” He got up and walked over to a map displayed on the wall. “It’s a long border, but if it was the American military, they’ll be trying to get out of Russia as quickly as possible. They’ll need to make a border crossing somewhere. Good move on putting the guard on alert. Now, where would be the best place for them to cross?”

  “I think it depends on which country, Estonia or Latvia, would be willing to have the wrath of mother Russia come down on them for helping the Americans with such an operation,” stated Grigori.

  “And that would be?” questioned Nikolai.

  “Latvia, in my judgment, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “To bolster their status with the Americans, who currently have six hundred soldiers there on a temporary basis as part of a NATO exercise. The president has stated that we will defend ethnic Russians wherever they live, and Latvia has a very high number of Russians living there. The Latvian government is no doubt feeling the cross hairs of our military, especially since we took Crimea for the same reason.”

  “Yes,” interjected Nikolai, “that operation was very successful and perhaps has given the Latvians cause for concern, but that alone is not enough for them to risk a confrontation with us.”

  “Not by itself,” asserted Grigori, “but they could be helping the Americans in hopes of getting a permanent military base agreement—to keep them there. They could be thinking that it might help to keep us from stepping on them militarily.”

  “OK, perhaps you are right. We need to inform the guard to be especially watchful along the border area near Pskov and to initiate patrolling operations, but they’re also to be mindful of the area near Narva. While you are doing that, I’m going to update the director.

  Nikolai picked up the handset to make the call, but he was interrupted by an aide who stepped into the room.

  “Sir, the Americans appear to be heading back to their embassy.”

  Nikolai looked at Grigori. “They’re not going to get away with this bullshit that easily. Tell the team to screw with them and make sure they don’t get back to the embassy without having a few problems.”

  ***

  After she left J. D.’s office, Claire went to hers and remained there for most of the afternoon. She had anticipated an early call from the director, but it didn’t happen, and as the afternoon wore on, she became increasingly concerned. It was almost four in the afternoon, and Claire was sitting at her desk reading the ops update sent in by Brandson. She felt better knowing that the team was safe and en route back to Checkpoint Charlie. Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. She quickly picked up the handset. It was Lila letting her know that the director was holding on an incoming line.

  “Thank you, Lila,” she said and then pressed the blinking light. She answered, “Afternoon, J. D.”

  “Afternoon, Claire. I know it’s late, and it wasn’t my intention for it to be this late, but it took more time that I had anticipated to get to the president.”

  “Then, I assume you have a decision.”

  “Yes, and as I said, it took some time to get to him and some persuasion on my part to convince the president that this was something that we needed to do, especially to protect those people you have out there in the field. He agreed, reluctantly, so the rest is in your hands.”

  “Thank you, J. D. You’ve made the right call.”

  “Let’s hope so. Good afternoon.”

  Claire hung up the phone and walked out heading to the Ops Center. She pushed the cipher buttons, opened the door, and walked in. The duty supervisor heard the door alarm and met her as she came into the room.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Windstrum. Can I help you with something?”

  “Yes, you can,” she said authoritatively. “I know it’s late out there in Russia, but I need to speak with the NEEDFUL QUEST team leader.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They walked over to an employee sitting in front of a rack of equipment. The employee looked at them as they approached his workstation. He started to get up.

  “There’s no need for you to get up,” Claire said. “See if you can raise the NEEDFUL QUEST team leader.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He looked down and placed his finger on a piece of paper lying next to a desk microphone. The paper contained a list of activities and associated radio call signs. He eyed the list and moved his finger down to NEEDFUL QUEST. “That would be CHARLIE Six, ma’am.”

  “She knows that,” interjected the supervisor. “Key him up.”

  “Yes, sir. CHARLIE Six, this is control. Come back.”

  ***

  It was a little after midnight. The others were asleep. Mike had volunteered to stay up for the first watch. He wasn’t that tired after having slept most of the way from Saint Petersburg to the cabin. Mauldin was sitting nearby, tied to a chair. Mike had just finished giving him another injection. He put the syringe away and opened the door to look outside. It was still snowing. He put another log on the fire and sat back down, staring at Mauldin, but his mind was someplace else. He was thinking about Nina’s situation. When he first heard the noise, he thought it was Mauldin, but it was his radio. He reached across the table and picked up the tethered mic. He pressed the transmit button.

  “CONTROL, this is Charlie Six. Go ahead. Over.”

  “Roger that, Six. Wait one for HAMMERHEAD.”

  It was Claire. He hoped that she was calling with good news.

  “Six, this is HAMMERHEAD, be advised that your request to bring home the second package has been approved,” Claire stated. “I say again, your request for the second package has been approved. Do you copy?”

  “Roger that, HAMMERHEAD. Second package approved. That’s good news. Bad news here with weather. Need a report. Can you check and advise forecast?”

  “It will take a few minutes, Six. Expect a call back in fifteen minutes.”

  “Roger that. Standing by.”

  She turned to the shift supervisor. “Get me in contact with someone at NOAA.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Five minutes later, Claire was talking to the shift administrator at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration on a secure line.

  “This is a classified call,” she said. “I need a weather report for Narva, Estonia, and forecast for the next twenty-four hours.”

  Claire realized Mike’s concern several minutes later when given the requested information. She thanked the administrator, ended the call, picked up the microphone, and pressed the transmit button.

  “Six, you still there?” she asked.

  “Roger that, HAMMERHEAD. What have you got for me?”

  “It’s not good. There’s one heck of a storm sitting on top of you. Unusual for this time of the year. Don’t expect the weather to clear up for another forty-eight hours. Copy?”

  “Yes, copy. Thanks for the quick reply. Six over and out.”

  Mike sat there thinking about the weather for Sunday. He heard Charlie coming into the room and saw him look to see Mauldin slumped over and tied to the chair.

  “You’re up a bit early for your watch, Charlie.”

  “Couldn’t sleep very well,” he answered while opening the door to look outside. “It’s snowing harder than when I went to bed.”

  “It ain’t gonna be a good day for a walk in the park if it keeps
up. Maybe the weather will clear up by Sunday morning.”

  “What about him?” Charlie asked, nodding at Mauldin.

  “I gave him a shot just before you came in.”

  “OK, speaking of shots, are you all right, or do you need another one?”

  “I’m OK. I may need what little morphine you’ve got left for the trek back to the border.”

  “Oh, no need to worry about that, Mike. I’ve got plenty.”

  “That’s good to know. I’m going to turn in. See you in the morning.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  She’s as Hard as Nails

  Nikolai knew the president wasn’t immediately available for a meeting, but he called the Kremlin anyway to make an appointment. The president was scheduled to be back in Moscow later that evening after completing a hastily arranged trip to Syria, which was under political attack by Western governments demanding a regime change. Russia was one of the few remaining countries still supporting the Syrian government, and the trip was deemed necessary to evidence Russia’s support for the ruling government.

  The information the FSB counterintelligence chief had to convey wasn’t good, but it was something the president needed to know. When Nikolai walked into his office Saturday morning, the president was still dressed in his robe and looked like death warmed over. He had hoped the old man would be in a good mood, but that wasn’t the case. When Nikolai finished the briefing, the president tore into him as if he was a young, inexperienced officer and not someone who had been with the Federal Security Service for three years.

  “You let the American military slip into our backyard while your surveillance team played footsy with the CIA here in Moscow?” questioned the president. “You’ll be without a job, Nikolai, if they aren’t caught and Dimitry Mauldin brought back to the institute. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Mr. President, abundantly clear.”