Black Ops

by W. E. B Griffin

  He remembered Abuela telling him that before World War II, when people wanted to describe someone as stinking rich and needed a more elegant phrase, they said, “Rich as an Argentine.” Abuela had also told him that Juan Domingo Peron had managed to squander, during his tenure as dictator, what in 1938 had been the largest gold reserves in the world.

  But some of that enormous wealth, to judge by the miles of high-rise luxury apartments in Buenos Aires and those lining the beaches of Punta del Este, had somehow managed to elude Peron’s grasp.

  Then another part of his brain kicked in. He remembered documents he’d read—ones still classified sixty years after the war’s end—about the movement to Argentina of vast sums of money by senior members of the about-to-crumple Nazi structure. That, in turn, triggered memories of Aleksandr Pevsner’s Bariloche copy of Göring’s hunting estate mansion, Karinhall. The odds that that had been built by a successful cattle breeder were pretty damn slim.

  That was his final profound philosophical thought before he stepped away from a sanitary facility mounted on the marble wall of its own softly lit cubicle. A red light flickered in a gold-plated box and the urinal flushed.

  “Oh, God, how did I ever get through life having to flush my own pissoir?” he asked aloud, then left the cubicle and headed for the shower.

  He looked at his new wristwatch. He would have just about an hour until Delchamps and Davidson—who had gone to Nuestra Pequeña Casa after dinner—would bring just about everybody—which, it was to be hoped, would include Uncle Remus and Dick Miller, who should have arrived sometime during the night and been taken to the safe house—for the first meeting on what would happen in Africa and—more important—how in hell they would make it happen.

  “Oh, God,” he again asked aloud, “how did I tell time all those years without a Rolex?”

  He pulled open one of the two doors to the shower, stripped, and stepped inside. He picked up a bar of soap and started to bathe. Then he smelled himself, decided the bar of soap was the causative factor, and sniffed it.

  “Oh, God,” he once more asked aloud, “how did I ever get through life without soap like this?”

  He soaped his body and then closed his eyes and soaped his hair and face.

  “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed as he suddenly felt hands on his body that weren’t his.

  “If you let me wash yours, I’ll let you wash mine,” Svetlana said, and stuck her tongue in his ear.

  [FOUR]

  0840 3 January 2006

  The bar had been turned into a meeting room.

  Everyone—including Dick Miller and Uncle Remus—was there when Castillo and Svetlana walked in.

  “Overslept, did you, Ace?” Delchamps greeted them.

  “Sorry,” Castillo said. “Everybody met?”

  There were nods and a chorus of “Uh-huhs.”

  “This is Svetlana, aka Susan,” Castillo said. “Honey, these two are really old friends, Colin Leverette and Dick Miller.”

  Miller and Leverette stood up and took her extended hand. Both mumbled, “How are you?”

  Then they sat down.

  Svetlana took her hand back, looked at both of them, and shrugged. “Okay, to clear the air: Yes, I’m the diabolic Russian who has taken your innocent friend to my boudoir and done all sorts of wicked things with him. But since that has nothing to do with taking out the chemical factory in the Congo, may I suggest we turn our attention to that?”

  “You tell ’em, Susie!” Delchamps said, laughing.

  Leverette stood up. “Colonel, my friends call me Uncle Remus. And any friend of Charley’s . . .”

  “Thank you,” Svetlana said. “It used to be Colonel, Uncle Remus. Now it is Susan.”

  “Susan it is,” Leverette said, and sat down again. He shoved his elbow into Miller’s midsection. “Gimpy, that’s your cue to stand up and make nice to the lady. Otherwise, I’ll break your good knee.”

  “And just off the top of my head,” Delchamps said, “I’d say Uncle Remus is big enough to do that without a hell of a lot of effort.”

  Miller stood.

  “If an apology is in order, herewith offered.”

  “Accepted,” Svetlana said.

  “When I met him,” Miller then blurted, nodding at Castillo, “we were both kids, about to become plebes at the Academy. I’ve been trying to keep him out of trouble ever since. He’s done some wild things, and I didn’t think he could surprise me anymore. But I didn’t know about . . . about this situation until twenty minutes ago.”

  “You were surprised? Nobody is more surprised than Carlos . . . except perhaps me. Okay? Dramatic confrontation concluded?”

  Miller nodded and sat down.

  Delchamps slid a sheet of paper across the table to Castillo.

  “I think it would save some time if you took a look at these before we get started,” he said. “Everybody else has seen them.”

  “Okay,” Castillo said, and started to read:

  TRAVEL PERMITS: US NATIONALS REQUIRE A VALID PASSPORT AND A VISA TO ENTER THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO.

  AIRPORTS: KINSHASA (N’DJILI) (FIH) IS 25KM (15 MILES) EAST OF THE CITY. BUSES RUN TO AND FROM THE CITY. TAXIS ARE AVAILABLE.

  FACILITIES: 24-HOUR BANK/BUREAU DE CHANGE, POST OFFICE, RESTAURANT AND CAR HIRE, BUT ALL SERVICES ARE ERRATIC AND UNRELIABLE.

  HEALTH: YELLOW FEVER VACCINATION IS A REQUIREMENT. VACCINATIONS AGAINST CHOLERA, TYPHOID, AND POLIO ARE HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. THERE IS A SIGNIFICANT MALARIA RISK THROUGHOUT THE COUNTRY, AND ADVICE SHOULD BE SOUGHT IN ADVANCE ABOUT PREVENTIVE MEASURES. HIV/AIDS IS PREVALENT. RABIES IS ENDEMIC TO THE DRC. REGULAR OUTBREAKS OF PNEUMONIC PLAGUE ALSO OCCUR, PARTICULARLY IN THE DISTRICT OF ITURI, AND IS FATAL IF UNTREATED. AN OUTBREAK OF THE DEADLY EBOLA VIRUS OCCURRED IN SEPTEMBER 2007. THE CENTER PRIVÉ D’URGENCE (CPU) CLINIC IN KINSHASA IS ABLE TO COPE WITH BASIC HEALTH PROBLEMS AND TO STABILIZE A PATIENT AFTER MOST SERIOUS ACCIDENTS. HOWEVER, MEDICAL EVACUATION TO SOUTH AFRICA (OR ELSEWHERE) WOULD BE ADVISED AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. OUTSIDE KINSHASA, WESTERN STANDARD MEDICAL FACILITIES ARE PRACTICALLY NON-EXISTENT. VISITORS ARE ADVISED TO TAKE THEIR OWN BASIC MEDICAL SUPPLIES WITH THEM, AS MEDICINES ARE IN SHORT SUPPLY. MEDICAL INSURANCE WITH PROVISION FOR EMERGENCY AIR EVACUATION IS ESSENTIAL FOR VISITORS. ALL WATER SHOULD BE REGARDED AS CONTAMINATED, AND MILK IS UNPASTEURIZED; THEREFORE CONSUME ONLY IMPORTED BOTTLED WATER AND AVOID DAIRY PRODUCTS.

  SECURITY: THE EAST AND NORTHEAST OF THE COUNTRY ARE INSECURE AND TRAVELERS SHOULD BE CAUTIOUS IF TRAVEL TO THE REGION IS NECESSARY, PARTICULARLY NEAR THE BORDERS WITH UGANDA AND RWANDA. THERE ARE FREQUENT ARMED CLASHES IN THE DISTRICT OF ITURI NEAR THE UGANDAN BORDER, AS WELL AS KIVU PROVINCE AND NORTHERN KATANGA. THERE IS A HIGH LEVEL OF STREET CRIME AND ARMED ROBBERY, PARTICULARLY IN KINSHASA, WHERE ARMED GANGS OR CRIMINALS POSING AS PLAIN-CLOTHES POLICEMEN REGULARLY ATTACK FOREIGNERS. SECURITY OFFICIALS HAVE ALSO BEEN KNOWN TO ARREST FOREIGNERS AND DEMAND PAYMENT FOR THEIR RELEASE. DO NOT DISPLAY VALUABLES ON YOUR PERSON, WALK THE STREETS ALONE, OR CARRY LARGE AMOUNTS OF MONEY. KEEP CAR DOORS AND WINDOWS LOCKED. DEMONSTRATIONS AND POLITICAL GATHERINGS SHOULD BE AVOIDED. BOATS AND FERRIES ARE POORLY MAINTAINED AND HAVE LOW SAFETY STANDARDS; ON 16 JANUARY 2004 AN OVERCROWDED FERRY ON THE KASAI RIVER SANK, KILLING 35 PEOPLE. DUE TO VIOLENT ATTACKS, THE BORDER BETWEEN ANGOLA AND THE DRC IS NOW CLOSED.

  When he had finished, he slid the printout to Svetlana.

  “Where’d you get that?” he asked.

  “Courtesy of our friends in the CIA,” Delchamps said.

  “Jesus, you asked them?”

  “ ‘Hi, there! We’re about to blow up a chemical factory in the Congo that you say doesn’t exist, and need a little help.’ ”

  “Then what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Gotcha, Ace.” Delchamps smirked. “I did a quick Internet search. The CIA has data like that on the Web for anyplace you can think of. So does your State Department page boy pal’s Web site—maps, data, even the address of your favorite home away from home, th
e U.S. embassy.”

  “And the odd thing, Charley,” Uncle Remus said, “is that what Edgar got off the Web is just about the same thing as this.”

  Leverette slid a manila envelope to Castillo. He opened it. The document, on official CIA stationery, was classified SECRET and its heading read: “CONGO, DR of, Basic Conditions as of 1 Jan 2005.”

  “See? Says just about the same thing,” Leverette said. “D’Allessando gave me that. I don’t know where he got it, but there’s no tie to you.”

  Castillo took a quick look, then slid it to Svetlana.

  “Only one airport? That’s hard to believe,” Castillo said.

  “The whole Democratic Republic of the Congo is hard to believe,” Leverette said.

  Castillo’s cellular vibrated in his shirt pocket.

  “Hola?” he said, and then listened.

  “Jesus. Thanks, Liam. I’ll get back to you.”

  He put the cellular back in his shirt pocket and looked at Svetlana.

  “That was interesting,” he said. “Comandante Duffy just told me that the Lufthansa flight from Frankfurt this morning had aboard a Russian diplomat by the name of Evgeny Alekseeva, who was met by a Russian diplomat from Paraguay by the name of Lavrenti Tarasov.”

  “He will have to be terminated, Carlos,” Berezovsky said evenly.

  “No,” Castillo said firmly. “What we’re going to have to do is get out of here, out of Argentina.”

  XIII

  [ONE]

  Pilar Golf & Polo Country Club

  Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina

  0850 3 January 2006

  “Colonel,” Dick Miller said, “may I have a word with you in private?”

  Castillo looked around the room.

  They’re a motley bunch, but they’re my motley crew—my team.

  “No, Dick. Unless you want to confide in me that you contracted a social disease on the way down here.”

  Delchamps and Davidson chuckled.

  “I think it’s important,” Miller pursued.

  “No. You know Rule One: Everybody on the team knows everything.”

  “Go ahead, Carlos,” Svetlana said. “Talk with him. I don’t mind.”

  “Whether or not you mind is beside the point, Susan. And Rule Two is that when I speak ex cathedra it’s not open for debate.”

  “You are now the Pope?” she snapped.

  Castillo raised an eyebrow toward her. “Actually, that means ‘from the chair,’ not ‘from the cathedral,’ if that’s what you were thinking. And Rule Three is never be sarcastic unless you’re sure you know what you’re talking about.”

  Berezovsky laughed and applauded. Delchamps joined in.

  Svetlana with obvious effort kept her mouth shut.

  Castillo looked at Miller. “Okay, Dick, let’s have it.”

  Miller hesitated.

  “The colonel just used the term ‘terminated,’ ” Leverette then said. “Presuming it means what I think it does, who and why?”

  “Is that what you were going to ask, Dick?” Castillo said.

  “Among other things,” Miller said.

  “Okay,” Castillo said. “What Tom Barlow—not Colonel Berezovsky; no one ever heard of him—wants to do is take out two SVR people. One of them, Lieutenant Colonel Lavrenti Tarasov, is the rezident for Paraguay and Argentina. The other, Colonel Evgeny Alekseeva, works for Directorate S and came here looking for Tom and Susan.”

  “What’s the connection?” Leverette asked, and when Castillo didn’t immediately answer, said, “Alekseev, Alekseeva, whoever you said?”

  Castillo looked at Svetlana.

  “What did you say Rule One was, Carlos?” she said, giving him her okay.

  Castillo looked back at Leverette. “Alekseeva was once married to Susan.”

  “Davidson, you didn’t happen to mention that,” Leverette said.

  Miller rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “Because of that connection . . .” Berezovsky began and stopped. “I don’t know what to call you. ‘Mister Leverette’?”

  Leverette looked at Castillo, then back to Berezovsky. “Tell you what, Tom. Against my better judgment, and until I decide you really are the nice guy Charley seems to think you are, you can call me ‘Uncle Remus’ . . .”

  “Thank you.”

  “Everybody else seems to be crazy, so why not me?” Leverette finished.

  Berezovsky said: “As I was saying, Uncle Remus, because of that connection, Colonel Alekseeva has, in addition to a coldly professional interest, a personal interest in our defection. Unless he either can return us to Russia—which is just about an impossible ambition—or terminate us, his career will be finished. An officer who could not prevent the defection of his wife and her brother obviously is unreliable.” He met Castillo’s eyes. “I am suggesting, Carlos, that because Evgeny Alekseeva is highly skilled in this sort of thing, and we know highly motivated, eliminating him is the thing to do.”

  “No,” Castillo said.

  “Was that also ex cathedra, Carlos?” Berezovsky asked softly, but with a tone that was challenging.

  Castillo nodded. “Yes, it was, Tom.”

  “Dmitri!” Svetlana said warningly.

  “I think I should tell you, Carlos,” Berezovsky said, “that I have several options. One is to smile at you and agree, then pretend to be surprised when we learn that Evgeny is no longer with us. Stepan—the larger of the two men Aleksandr assigned to watch over our Susan—he used to work for me. He would eliminate Evgeny Alekseeva with at least as much enthusiasm as Comandante Duffy would take out Lavrenti Tarasov.”

  “Please don’t try that, Tom,” Castillo said.

  Berezovsky ignored the comment.

  “My second option,” he went on, “is to try to reason with you, one professional to another, to try to show you why eliminating Evgeny now makes more sense than anything else. And if that failed, to go to you as Svetlana’s brother and point out that this very dangerous man is determined to kill the woman we both love and my wife and child.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” Castillo said.

  “Dmitri,” Svetlana said evenly, “the woman you both love is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. And stop treating Carlos as if he started in this business last week. If he has his reasons—”

  “May I continue?” Berezovsky said.

  She made a face but motioned for him to go on.

  “But, I am sure that Carlos would agree with me that there can be only one man in charge, so I will consider myself at his orders and defer to his judgment.”

  Castillo looked him in the eyes a long moment as he considered that, then nodded once. “Thank you.”

  Berezovsky looked at Leverette.

  “As you so colorfully put it, Uncle Remus, ‘Everybody else seems to be crazy, so why not me?’ ”

  “That’s very kind, Tom,” Leverette said. “But let the record show that Uncle Remus would vote, if asked, to whack this guy while we have the opportunity.”

  “I second the motion,” Delchamps said. “Ace, if we don’t deal with this guy now, then sooner or later it’s going to come around and viciously bite us on the ass.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to deal with him; I said I didn’t want him whacked,” Castillo said. “Speaking of everybody being crazy, hasn’t it occurred to anyone but me that the enemy you know is less dangerous than the one you don’t?”

  “Meaning?”

  “That if we take out Evgeny—”

  Jesus, I’m talking about the husband of my lover!

  That’s one helluva strange feeling—not to mention dangerous ground!

  “—they’ll just send someone else, who may be more dangerous than Evgeny.”

  “So how are you going to deal with the one we have?” Delchamps said.

  “Sic Liam on him for now,” Castillo said, “while hoping I can keep him from whacking him on general purposes.” He turned to Alfredo Munz. “How safe
is Aleksandr’s house in Bariloche from somebody like this guy?”

  “There’s only one road leading to the house,” Munz said. “It’s patrolled and secure. The only other way to get there is by air, which is impossible to do quietly, and by boat, which you’ve seen yourself.”

  Castillo nodded. “Worst-case scenario: How would the Pevsners and the Berezovskys get out if Evgeny showed up with a platoon of Ninjas?”

  “Platoon of what?” Berezovsky asked.

  “The ex-Stasi or ex-ÁVH—Államvédelmi Hatóság—or whatever the hell they were—the only one we ever identified was the Cuban who eliminated Dr. Jean-Paul Lorimer at his estancia. They were dressed up in black and wearing balaclava masks like characters in a bad movie—or a comic book. We called them ‘the Ninjas.’ ”

  “I doubt if anything like that is likely,” Berezovsky argued. “They were sent—they were Hungarian, by the way—to deal with that particular problem. You dealt with them. Sending in another team to replace them just in case they might be needed would be difficult and dangerous. Just keeping a half-dozen people like that around and out of sight . . .”

  “With respect, Dmitri, it would appear that Evgeny’s been sent, as you say, ‘to deal with this particular problem,’ ” Castillo said. “So indulge me.” He turned to Munz. “Alfredo?”

  “There is Alek’s Bell helicopter. If anything like you suggest did happen, they could quickly leave on it and go anywhere, including Chile, on short notice.”

  Castillo looked at Berezovsky.

  “Then you would say, Alfredo, that Mrs. Berezovsky and Sof’ya would be safe in Bariloche? Maybe even safer than where they are now? While we’re off to I-don’t-know-where or for how long?”