by Bob Thomas
“You know as well as I do that you can train and train and train, but find yourself in a situation that has nothing to do with your training.”
“It happens.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Sasha slid his hands into his pockets as he looked down the firing line she had been using. “We really have no idea what we’re going up against. We’re training in house to house combat techniques that may not apply to anything that happens. Hell, this could break out in the middle of a street, or a park, or a zoo, or damned near anywhere.”
“Sometimes, you just have to hope for the best. You have to train for the most likely scenarios.”
“I know that. I just can’t help but feel, well, I don’t know what I feel.” He folded his arms and stared into the straw-filled dirt.
“You’re wondering why I shoot so much?”
“The thought had crossed my mind. You’ve been out here more than anyone. And you’re far and away the best shot of any of us.”
“That’s because I practice.”
“You do that.”
“Years ago, when I was just a kid, my dad who was a cop, took me to the firing range. I was probably just ten or so. Not very old, and scared to death of guns.” Anya stepped back and plopped herself down onto a straw bale. She could feel the jagged stems against her legs and the ice that had accumulated on its surface melted into her pants from her body heat. “Anyway, he got me shooting. We lived in a rough neighborhood outside of L.A. But everyone knew dad was a cop, so nobody bothered us, much anyway. So, I practiced. I practiced with pistols, then rifles, and back to pistols again. In my mind, I ran through every scenario I could imagine. I was a cop, I was a cowgirl, I was a bus driver or a teacher. I thought of everything, but I never stepped outside of that range with a loaded gun.” She ducked her head and ran her hands through her short, dark hair. “Then, one night when I was up in my room, there was a loud bang downstairs. I heard shouting and then, a pop pop pop of bullets. I froze. I sat there and peed myself on the bed.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.” She looked up and smiled. “Anyway, I heard my mother scream. Dad was at work. At least I thought. Something told me to grab my gun. To this day I don’t know why I did it, but I loaded a clip into the handle, stuck in out in front of me and started down the hall. The shouting had stopped and all I could hear was my mother whimpering. Then, another voice boomed up the stairs. A man, someone I didn’t recognize was shouting at my dad. He had come home from work for lunch and a punk who he’d once locked up followed him home.”
“Shit.”
“Shit is right. I was petrified, but in that instant, I knew what I had to do. I’d already practiced everything I could think of, but not this. I looked around the corner as this guy stood over my dad who lay on the floor with a bullet in his leg. My mom was crying on the couch, her hand smeared red. This guy starts laughing, holding his gun in the air. Then he pointed it at my mom. That was all it took. I stepped around the corner, took my stance and put three bullets in his back. My dad crawled out from under him a moment later.”
“Wow.”
“No, training. We train for what we think might happen, where we think we will be when we need it. But we can’t practice for everything, so we practice for anything. It’s more important to train to trust each other, to know how each of us will react under stress. That’s why we train.”
Sasha sat wide-eyed against the post.
“You hungry?” she asked? “I’m starved. Let’s go get something to eat.”
The sun was beginning to set as they approached the farmhouse, and even though the biting wind helped to push them along, the lingering light told them that spring was on the way. Though they had only been in Moscow a few days, it was obvious the days were getting longer. Not by much, but longer. Sasha pulled open the door as the light from the mudroom leading to the kitchen splashed out into the muddy snow.
“I figured you all would be fork-deep in dinner about now.”
“Oh, it’s cooking,” Polina replied. “We’re just looking over some maps of Moscow.”
“Escape routes.” Donald looked up from his seated position. The others were standing around him hovering over the table.
“Escape from where? Isn’t it hard to plan exit routes if you don’t know where you’ll be?”
“To some extent, Anya. However, in a city, there are certain ways around that.” Donald pointed to an area above the Kremlin, then east. “What you have to do is to find common arterial routes that you can make for. You divide the city into quadrants. First, find your way out of the quadrant to the arterial route. Then, you can slide off to anywhere you want to go.”
“I see,” Ivan said. “So, if we were here, we can simply jump on to this thoroughfare and take it as far as we needed before getting off to the farmhouse.”
“Yes, if the farmhouse is where you’re going.”
“Why wouldn’t we be coming back here? We have a plane.” Ivan suddenly looked confused.”
“The farmhouse is the last place you’ll want to come. The plane is a last-ditch effort. You all have passports and travel documents. It’s easier to leave on your own than in a group. Groups get noticed. Another reason why all of you speak Russian. You can blend in.” Donald looked up to Ivan as he towered above the others. “Well, almost all of you. You’re kind of hard to miss, Lieutenant. You would have been my last choice for such a mission simply for that reason.”
Ivan nodded at the remark. It made sense.
“Being covert means being covert in every sense of the word. You stick out like a sore thumb.”
“So, let’s see what we’ve got,” Sasha said as he stepped up to the table.
The Kremlin
“You look tired, Andrey.” President Novichkov leaned forward placing his elbows on his desk, the fabric of his sleeves digging into the leather pad atop the polished wood.
“I am fine,” he replied as he sat nervously across from the desk.
“Perhaps this job is catching up to you? It is a stressful place to work, my friend. Don’t be ashamed if it is becoming too much. We are not the vibrant young men of days long gone.”
“Perhaps a few days off would be in order.” Andrey felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. There was only one number set to vibrate. He felt his face go pale.
“That would be a good thing. Even generals need some time off, from time to time.” Yuri folded his hands together as he studied his chief of staff. “I have a dacha, a beautiful place in the Crimea. And, it is far enough away from the troubles in that little rouge state,” he said with a smile. “You should take a few days and go down there. It will do you good, my friend.”
“A dacha?” Andrey looked up, his face almost completely white. He let his hand slide across his chest where his phone rested, the vibration feeling as if it was burnt into his flesh. His hand began to tremble.
“Yes Andrey.” Yuri was deeply concerned. “When was the last time you had a doctor look you over? We’re not getting any younger, and this business with the Americans isn’t helping you any.”
“I haven’t had any contact with any Americans.” Andrey’s eyes went wide. He immediately felt vulnerable, naked to the open world. He could feel his heart racing.
“It is the stress, Andrey,” Yuri replied. “You try and do too much yourself. You need to learn to delegate more.”
“It is the nature of the job,” Andrey noted. “Perhaps I will take the rest of the afternoon off.” Andrey put his hand up to his pocket again where the cell phone rested. Just the shape of it against his hand made him nervous. Maybe this was the day he could finally begin to turn the tables. He knew he had a call to make. “Good day, Mr. President.”
The meeting place was the same as before. Andrey sat on the bench in the square before the Helikon theater, but today, the sun was shining and the slight breeze was coming up from the south. The square was bustling with people going about their day. A few passersby shot g
lances his way, recognizing him for who he was, or at least who they thought he might be. He just felt like an old man sitting on a park bench. Nothing more.
“Good day,” came the greeting from behind. Donald slid down beside Andrey as he extended his hand. “Let’s see what you have.”
“We are taking a big risk being seen out here on such a beautiful day,” Andrey said as he handed over his phone. “Do you think that is wise?”
“Sometimes it is easier to be unseen in plain sight.”
“Yes, but even here in Russia, everyone has a phone with a camera.”
“That is true, my friend. The world is a very different place.” Donald slipped the device off the phone and placed it in his pocket. “When we both started in this business, we could never have imagined a scenario where the two of us would be sitting on this bench together.”
“Those are bygone days,” Andrey said with a chuckle. “Of course, in my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined this scenario either.” Andrey tilted his head back and let the sun warm his face. “My world was only that of planes and soldiers who did their job for the revolution.” Andrey turned his head toward his guest. “Your Russian is remarkable. I could never tell you did not belong here. You have been here a very long time.”
“A passage of time we have both witnessed, sir.” Donald stood as he slid his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be in touch.”
Andrey watched as his new acquaintance walked away into the afternoon light amid the crowded square as life around him went on. He only hoped his would as well.
The room was quiet as Donald inserted the cable into the device he had retrieved from Andrey’s phone and plugged it into the computer. A click on the corner of the screen made the computer go dark.
“What happened?”
“Just wait.”
The time seemed interminable before a square box became visible in the center of the screen. Donald keyed in a sequence and the screen went blank again.
“This program is weird,” Ivan whispered.
“It is supposed to be,” Donald replied. “If you plug this into any old computer, nothing will happen except the data would be destroyed if the program doesn’t open it within a given time frame. You need the right program to see what’s there. If someone were to randomly plug this into their machine, they’d see nothing. Most won’t wait that long before believing there is nothing of value on it.”
“Simple,” Ivan said. “But effective.”
“Exactly. Someone searching for it without the right program would leave it plugged in. The device knows that and would corrupt itself.” The screen came to life and Donald hit a few keys. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”
“A map of the city.”
“With cell towers, Sasha.” He clicked where two icons displayed and the map expanded, dropping off outer areas of Moscow. “These are the towers the call bounced off.” He keyed a new command and color-coded lines appeared. “This is where the call went to, when our host received it.”
“He’s inside the Kremlin.”
“Right again, Sasha.” Donald pointed to the display and traced the lines with his fingers. “This is the routing the call took. We trace it backwards and, voila, this is where it originated.”
“I didn’t think that was possible,” Ivan noted.
“A couple years ago, it wasn’t. NSA has been working on a program like this for some time. These guys aren’t working very hard to cover their tracks with this phone either.”
“Probably using a burner. I assume they have those in Russia?”
“Oh believe me, they do. The black market is ripe with them. But since this guy keeps using the same one, I’m assuming he’ll toss it before too long. He knows he has our host in a corner and each time he sees the number, his anxiety climbs a little higher. It’s a psychological ploy.”
“So he keeps the pressure on simply by Andrey knowing the number.”
“Exactly, Ivan. Exactly. Who knows what is really being said, only the two on the phone. This device doesn’t pick up the conversation. It just tracks the path.”
“Now what?”
“Well, now we need to get into the city to get a track on the number.”
“How’s that done?” Anya asked.
“This device will pick up the number if we’re near the towers it is bouncing off.” Donald exited the map and shut down the computer. “But we can’t do it from here.”
“So we go to Moscow.”
“We go to Moscow, Sasha. And we have to develop a plan. This farmhouse has done its job. It’s time for us to move to the city.” Donald unplugged the device and slid it into his pocket. “We begin hunting tomorrow.”
Day Sixteen
Moscow
The car pulled onto the thoroughfare that ran parallel to the track of the cell towers. Sasha and Donald pulled to the side, bringing the nondescript vehicle to a stop. The day was nearly half gone when they exited and began to walk up the street. The wind that had punished the area at dawn’s light, had finally relented. Under other circumstances, it would have been a beautiful day for a stroll.
“Quite the area.”
“It’s an up and coming business district. I’m sure it’s no different than all the ones back home.” Donald was careful not to talk specifically about America, never using the words that could link him to the US. “Years ago, this place was nothing but a run-down slum.”
“You couldn’t tell it now.”
“New money has a way of doing that, freedoms that the Russian mafia has more than taken advantage of.” Donald pulled his coat tight around his chest as a gust funneled down the street.
“So, what do we do now, just wait for the phone to ring?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Donald looked up at the neon signs advertising nearly everything the young and growing middle class of Russia could want. It was bars and cars and young people testing their limits on a nightly basis.
“It’s kind of like a young Atlantic City, without all the fun stuff, like an ocean and beach. But the younger crowd is flush with money and they’re drawn here. The mafia likely runs or owns most of this.”
“So how does someone of your background know so much about mafia connections?”
“When you keep your ear to the street for political reasons, you’d be surprised what you pick up on. Corruption loomed large in the early days after the Soviet government fell. Politics and greed rolled hand in hand.” Donald stopped and looked up and down the street. “I figured we’d take a look at some of the buildings and get a feel for what they’re like.”
“Such as room size, large room and small room venues.”
“Exactly,” Donald replied. “If it does come down to a firefight in an area like this, the training you’ve done will come in handy.”
“And if it’s somewhere else?”
“Then you rely on your military training, and we improvise.”
“We?”
“You never know sir. I may be along for the ride,” Donald said. “You just never know.”
They pulled open the door next to where they stood as three young ladies approached. Sasha nodded as they giggled and stepped inside. He shrugged his shoulders with a slight grin and extended his arm, pointing the way in.
“When in Rome,” he said with a smile.
The club was dingy, the burning neon filtered by the smoke that hung in the stale air. Sasha thought it was just like any other dive bar he had ever been in. Change the language to English, and young people were just that all over the world, young people looking to hook up with other young people. They slid up to the bar and ordered a beer.
“Not quite what I’m used to,” Sasha said.
“You get used to it.”
“How long do you think we’ll have to wait?”
“Hard to say, actually. I suppose it depends on how impatient they really are.”
“Greed begets greed, I suppose,” Sasha replied. “If what’s really happening
is happening, that’s big money. The faster things ramp up, the faster the money lines the pockets. But at some point, someone has to realize that money won’t just gush in. It has to be rolled.”
“And that’s what organized crime does. They roll money. They bury money where no one else can find it.”
“Just like the cop shows?”
“Just like them, Sasha. Art imitates life.”
The Baltic Sea
“Commander, flash traffic on ELF.”
“Take her up slowly, Flip. Let’s see what the message is.”
“Aye sir.”
“Captain to the conn.” The boat’s XO placed the mic back in its clip. He knew the captain would be in shortly. “Flip, let me know when we have it.”
The USS Columbus rose slowly in the dark waters of the Baltic Sea. The hum of the communications mast was barely audible within the conn as the shaft broke the surface of the water. They were up and down in less than five minutes, the boat riding near the surface in the relatively shallow sea. The captain of the boat walked into the conn as Ensign ‘Flip’ Morse handed the communication to the XO.
“What’s it say, Tull?”
“Good evening sir.” The XO looked up as the captain made the scope. “I guess we know why we’re here now,” Tull said as he handed the message over. “We’re to move up the coast, standby and prepare for support of an ongoing mission within Russia. And we’re to stay covert.”
“No shit,” Captain Dawson replied. “I wonder what the hell is going on?” He looked at the waterfall display to see their position. He’d been asleep for a couple hours. He felt slightly better, but this cold was still hanging on. “We’re not all that far from the Polish coast,” Dawson wondered aloud. “I wonder if we’re to get as close to Russia as possible? That would mean near the Gulf of Riga.” Dawson looked down at the message again before handing it to his XO. “Make these coordinates, Commander.”