We’re probably a prime target.
His heart leapt into his throat and he began typing even faster.
Alex West Residence, Black Forest, Germany
Kane had risen out of respect for the elderly woman’s arrival, but hadn’t said anything as she and West embraced, tears streaking both their faces, Zorkin standing by silently, a huge smile on his face as even his heart seemed to be cracking slightly.
Kane glanced at the photograph sitting on the table beside his chair then back at the new arrival. The resemblance was striking, and the affection obvious, leaving no doubt they were one and the same person. The reaction however, and the age difference between the two photographs of at least thirty years, made him wonder how long it had been since they had seen each other.
The embrace finally broken, West turned toward Kane, his arm extended to present this woman to him.
“Special Agent Dylan Kane, CIA, this is Adelle Bertrand, formerly of the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure.”
Kane smiled, taking Adelle’s hand in his and gently squeezing as he gave her a slight bow.
“French Intelligence. A pleasure.”
Adelle smiled then took the seat West had been sitting in, relegating their host to the worst seat in the house, the only one with its back to the door. He looked clearly uncomfortable, but ignored it for the moment, instead serving tea, with two lumps of sugar, handing it to Adelle with a smile.
The man knows how she takes her tea.
Kane took a sip of his soda.
“How long has it been?” asked Zorkin. “Thirty years?”
“Over thirty,” replied Adelle, putting down her tea. “Thirty long years.”
“I only saw her one more time after the night you had her picked up.”
“But it did last several months,” smiled Adelle with a wink. “Several long, wonderful months.”
West blushed causing Kane to smile, exchanging a glance with Zorkin who seemed delighted by the entire exchange.
“I never understood why you two didn’t stay together,” commented Zorkin, clearly not concerned with addressing the elephant in the room. “I always expected you two to settle down and disappear.”
“Our countries had different plans,” replied West, his face gloomy. “The CIA reassigned me after that, gave me a desk job, and basically isolated me to Langley.”
“DGSE did essentially the same to me, then other…things, shall we say, took over my life.”
“Life seems to always be the thing that gets in the way of everything, including true love,” said Zorkin with a sigh. “It’s criminal what happened to you two.”
“It was criminal what we did,” replied West. “We were both lucky to not go to jail. Three months AWOL? In those days? After what had just happened?” West shook his head. “We’re damned lucky we weren’t tossed into some prison cell somewhere.”
“Indeed,” agreed Adelle. “We were very lucky.” Her voice was subdued, almost as if she were unconvinced of what she was saying. She took a deep breath, then looked at Zorkin. “Will someone bring me up to date on the latest developments?”
Zorkin motioned toward Kane.
“How about we let the kid fill us in?”
Kane gave a half-smile, putting his drink down and pulling out his secure phone to reference if needed.
“This is where we stand. Major General Levkin sold the detonation codes for the Crimson Rush devices to a Chechen drug lord, who was playing middleman for person or persons unknown. The email with the codes went into the ether that is the Internet, but we’ve got our best people on it, trying to trace it. We know there are as many as one thousand devices, but have no way of knowing how many are still active, or where they are, except that apparently half are in storage in Russia. I’ve just received an update that an off the books op resulted in Levkin’s capture and interrogation, confirming what we suspected. The little piece we didn’t have was that apparently we’ve had the locations for over thirty years, but no one seems to know where this intel is. The last person known to possess it was you, Miss Bertrand.”
Adelle nodded, frowning.
“It was the first time I can recall being ashamed of my country. When I returned to DGSE after our—what shall I call it—hiatus?—they at first denied the microfilm had ever left Moscow, but eventually I found out that was a lie, and that it had indeed made it out, but was never passed on to the Americans. Instead, they used it to track down and defuse any of the weapons on French soil, then shelved it in hopes it could be used as leverage in future negotiations with the Americans or Soviets. I was nearly sick when I found out.”
“How did you find out?” asked West.
“I held the Director at gunpoint in an underground parking garage and forced him to tell me. That’s when I was put on administrative leave for a while.”
“I’m surprised you weren’t arrested.”
“I acquired some compromising photos of the Director before I confronted him. The only reason I was put on leave was because there was a witness. They chalked it up to hormones and stress. I spent three months in a state ‘spa’ then returned to work, reassigned to a desk with my security clearance all but gone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said West. “I lost my clearance level too which meant admin duties from then on. I kept questioning Crimson Rush but was stonewalled at every turn, and eventually told it was classified and if I mentioned it again, I’d go to prison for the rest of my life for violating national security.”
“So it was a cover up?” asked Kane.
“Sort of,” said West. “My guess is our side never wanted to admit that such a device could exist, because it would terrify the public. The Soviets never wanted to admit to their existence so they could use them if they had to, then when the thaw began, they were too scared to admit to the truth.”
“And the French?”
“Back then they were never really on our side,” said West, with a quick, “Sorry” and a shoulder shrug to Adelle.
Adelle batted her hand in the air as if it were nothing.
“All I knew was I was always spying for and on the side of France. Most of the time I had no clue whose side France was on.”
Zorkin and West had a hearty laugh at that statement, Adelle finally joining in with a giggle. Kane smiled, but was in a hurry to move things along, time literally ticking away.
“Is there any way to find that intel?” he asked, ending the frivolity.
Adelle covered her mouth for a second, composing herself, then looked at Kane.
“I believe I may have a way.”
“Explain.”
“My daughter followed in my footsteps—”
“You have a daughter!” exclaimed West, the look on his face something between joy and heartbreak, the poor bastard happy for his old flame, but devastated that she had moved on without him, and judging by the ages in question, quite quickly onward.
“Yes, I do,” she said quickly, avoiding eye contact with West, evidently not wanting to witness the pain she had just caused. She continued to meet Kane’s eyes. “My daughter works in intelligence. She’s an agent, with the highest clearance. As soon as I received your message”—she looked at Zorkin—“I contacted her. She will be pre-positioned by tonight at the main data archive containing all of DGSE’s old files. She will get us in and logged into one of the terminals. The rest is up to us.”
“Us?” said Kane. “Forgive me, but I think it’s best if I go in alone with your daughter.
“You’ll need our help,” said West. “We know what to look for.”
“You can brief me on the way,” replied Kane. “With all due respect, no matter how sharp your minds obviously still are, even you have to admit you’re in no shape physically to go out on an op.”
Zorkin leapt to his feet, his head jerking from left to right, his arm up and cocked at the elbow.
“I’ll arm wrestle you, right here, right now, you insolent little bastard! I’ll show
you how strong this feeble old man is.”
Kane remained seated, keeping a straight face as the man continued to look for a flat, clear surface to lay down his challenge. West shook his head, smiling.
“Sit down, you old fool, you know he’s right.”
“Bullshit!”
“We all know you’re in fine shape for a man your age. In fact, you’re probably in great shape for a man twenty years your junior,” soothed West.
“Damn right!”
“But think about that, Viktor. That’s fifty-five.”
Zorkin spun and glared at West, then dropped his arm, his hands shifting to his hips as he began to laugh, then cough. He fished the inhaler from his pocket and took several puffs, then sat down. He pointed at Kane.
“When this is done, we arm wrestle.”
Kane nodded, allowing a slight smile.
“I will try to call in some help just in case, but worst case scenario is me and your daughter go in alone. You three can cover our escape if you’d like.”
“Absolutely!” barked Zorkin, who then looked at his two companions a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to speak for you all.”
“There’s no way you’re keeping me out of this,” said West. “After all, this is my party, and you are the invitees.”
“And it is my daughter who is risking her career, so I too am of course ‘in’ as you Americans say.”
“Then we should leave immediately,” said Kane. “Can we get air transportation from here?”
Adelle nodded as she rose, the rest of the room following.
“I’ve already had it arranged. We will be in position in less than three hours.”
Kane nodded, impressed with the initiative his new team was showing.
His new team of four with a combined age of over 250.
Papago Army Aviation Support Facility, Phoenix, Arizona
Lieutenant Rick Messina ran as fast as he could, his damned car having broken down two miles short of the parking lot. His legs were on fire as were his lungs, the unexpected two mile run with duffel bag exhausting. As he burst into the assembly hall he discovered everyone was already there and his chest tightened as they turned to look at him. He rushed into place at the head of his platoon, relieving his second-in-command.
The commanding officer, Lt. Colonel Ford, stood at the head of the group of several hundred men, his jaw squared and his dark, piercing eyes glaring at Messina.
“Nice of you to finally join us, Lieutenant.”
“Sorry, sir, I had car trouble, sir.”
“Excuses are for school girls on prom night, Lieutenant! No matter the excuse, somebody got screwed. Either she got screwed, her boyfriend got screwed out of a promised roll in the hay, or her father got screwed out of a good night’s sleep. And if you had been here on time, you’d realize how screwed we’d all be right now if everyone didn’t realize that sixty minutes isn’t sixty-five minutes!”
“Sorry, sir,” mumbled Messina. He hated being yelled at, and it was one of the hardest things he was trying to learn how to deal with in the Guard. Not only was he getting yelled at from time to time, but he had to yell from time to time. It seemed all orders had to be barked or screamed, otherwise apparently they wouldn’t be obeyed.
Lt. Colonel Ford pointed at Lt. Kirk Darcy, Messina’s second in command and good friend.
“Brief our prom queen on the situation! We roll in five! Dismissed!”
The parade came to attention then the colonel marched toward his mobile command center.
“Parade, dismissed!” yelled a lone voice and the men broke, rushing toward a series of transports pulling up outside. Darcy dismissed their men, sending them to one of the trucks, then turned to Messina.
“Christ, Rick, where the hell have you been?”
Messina flushed.
“With Angela, you know, saying goodbye.”
“My God, Rick, of all the days you should have kept it in your pants!”
“Hey, I would have been here on time if it weren’t for the goddamned car breaking down.”
“I thought you had a brand new SUV?”
“I do, but Angela’s taking that to the campground with the kids.”
“She’s still going?”
“Yeah, I told her to.”
“That might be for the best.”
“Why, what’s going on?” asked Messina as the two of them headed for their assigned transport.
“We’ve got a major situation. Apparently there might be a nuke hidden somewhere in the area.”
“What?” Messina felt his knees weaken slightly. “Are you screwing with me?”
“No, I’m serious. Each platoon is being assigned radiation detection equipment and a list of high priority targets. We’re to sweep them completely and move on to the next site.”
“How sure are they about this?”
Darcy shrugged his shoulders then stopped, grabbing Messina by the shirt and bringing him to a halt.
“Listen,” said Darcy, lowering his voice. “I was on the horn with my brother earlier this morning, and he said we were already at DEFCON Three. Something serious is going on.”
“Holy shit!” gasped Messina. His thoughts immediately went to his wife and kids.
I’ve got to get them out of the city!
“Aren’t they going to evacuate?”
Darcy shook his head.
“No, they don’t want to start a panic.”
“That’s insane! Are we allowed to at least tell our families?”
Darcy shook his head as he climbed in the back of the truck. Messina jumped on the back lift and looked at his men.
“I’ve just been briefed and I know how messed up this situation sounds. Our jobs are clear. We search our assigned targets, and we search them well. No screwing around and doing a half-assed job. Lives are at risk. Lives of our own families and friends, so we don’t want to miss anything. We’ll do the job right, then move on to the next one. Questions?”
Silence.
“Good.” He pointed at the gear sitting in the middle of the truck, turning to Darcy. “Lieutenant, make sure the gear is broken out and distributed for when we arrive. I’ll be up front.”
“Yes, sir!” said Darcy as Messina jumped down. He heard orders being barked as he walked to the passenger side door, fishing his cellphone out. He quickly fired a text message to his wife.
Get to campground ASAP! Will explain later.
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“Are you sure it will work?”
Chris Leroux shook his head, wishing he could provide his boss with another answer, but he couldn’t. There was no way to know if this would work. All he knew was that the code should work, then any number of variables had to hold true, not the least of which being the perpetrator had to have not turned off his computer.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. But it could work, and that’s better than the nothing we’ve got now.”
Leif Morrison leaned back in his chair and chewed on his cheek for a moment, his jaw bobbing up and down as Leroux watched the man think. It didn’t take long as Morrison popped back upright quickly, swiping his mouse and clearing the screen saver that had kicked in.
“What do you need?”
“An ops center?” asked Leroux, hesitatingly. He had never actually asked for one before, it never being necessary.
“Done.”
Leroux felt his pulse quicken.
“And someone to command.”
“This is your idea, your op. You’re in command.”
Leroux could feel the room start to spin and he gripped the arms of the chair tightly, his fingernails digging into the leather.
Focus!
He picked a spot and stared, the room slowly coming back into focus as sweat beaded on his forehead. The room stopped and he realized the spot he had picked to focus on was his boss’ head.
He quickly looked away.
“Me?”
&
nbsp; “You don’t think you can handle it?”
“Not for a second.”
“So you can handle it.”
“No, I mean I can’t.”
Morrison laughed.
“Chris, you’ll never get ahead in life being honest.” Morrison rose and Leroux began to when he was waved off. Morrison rounded his desk then leaned back with his hips, perching on the front of the old antique. He leaned toward Leroux. “Chris, I think you’re ready. Don’t worry about your age, don’t worry about experience. The men and women in that room are professionals, and are used to dealing with all manner of people from first timers to old timers. All they care about is that you are in command, and they’ll follow your orders. If you have any questions, just ask. There is always an experienced coordinator assigned to the room. They’ll help you.”
Leroux didn’t feel any better, but he nodded.
“If you say so, sir.”
“I do say so.” Morrison stood up and returned to his chair. “When can you be ready?”
“Now, sir, assuming the code has been reviewed and no problems were found.”
“Very well, I’ll have it set up for you.”
Leroux nodded, standing up and heading for the door.
“Good luck, Mr. Leroux. You’ll do great.”
Leroux turned and gave a nervous, unconvinced nod to his boss, then stepped out into the reception area, closing the door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his back against the door, his knees weak and shaking.
This is insane! Me, running an Op Center?
A throat cleared.
He opened his eyes and saw Morrison’s assistant looking at him from her desk.
“Are you okay, Chris?”
He shook his head.
“No,” he said, pushing away from the door and retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket. “But I will be when I’m forty,” he added, wiping his forehead dry.
Maybe by then I’ll have grown some balls.
He pursed his lips at her knowing smile, then marched from the outer office and back to his desk, all the while his fingernails digging into his palms. He dropped into his chair, praying that they had found something wrong with his code that would nix the entire operation, but instead found glowing reviews from the three other techs he had sent it to for review.
Cold Warriors (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #3) Page 15