Seconds from crossing the point of no return, he was warned off by the only security guard not infiltrated by FSB agents. Without stepping foot in the off-limits section, they couldn’t shoot him on the spot like they had planned. Instead, FSB agents backed off and allowed him to continue work at the lab, under close supervision. A week later, he received an offer to lead a lab group at their sister institute in Kazakhstan. He knew it was a setup, and the rest was history. He’d escaped with his life and bioweapons samples worth millions of dollars. Fate had given him one more chance, and he didn’t intend to waste it. One call to some very nefarious “friends,” and he could take leave of this place, free to sell his weapons to the highest bidder. And the icing on the cake? VEKTOR’s bioweapons division and all of its key personnel would likely be targeted by Berg’s people. He’d finally avenge his parents’ murder at the hand of Russian security forces. Revenge was sweet, especially when it required no effort on his part.
Chapter 2
9:15 PM
Viggbyholm, Sweden
Mihail Osin stared at the glowing windows of 14 Värtavägen and considered his options. He hadn’t detected any movement inside the one-story house, but the interior lights had greeted them upon their silent arrival at the edge of the property’s thick evergreen screen, and he couldn’t ignore the possibility that their target might still be present. Even snagging one of the safe house’s “keepers” could put them back on the path to finding Reznikov. Unfortunately, his own experience with the use of foreign safe houses didn’t leave him optimistic. Reznikov’s abduction had occurred over two weeks ago, which was an eternity to keep a high-value target in such an exposed, but well-concealed location.
The CIA made a wise choice with this house. The neighborhood was surprisingly rustic and eerily quiet for a suburb less than fifteen kilometers from the center of Stockholm. Close enough to the city for quick access, yet isolated enough to ensure natural privacy. Hidden in plain sight. Judging by the amount of time it took the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service to uncover the location, the CIA had gone to great lengths to bury this place in the open.
His team of four operatives had been dropped off on the street behind the safe house a few minutes before dusk. Their van quickly departed the area and joined a rented Volvo sedan parked at a church less than two minutes away. The two-man team in the Volvo had conducted the initial reconnaissance of the neighborhood, quickly determining that street parking was either prohibited or discouraged in the residential areas of Viggbyholm. They hadn’t seen a single car parked on any of the nearby streets and had a difficult time picking out a discreet spot along the road behind the house to drop the team unseen. Parking one of their vans on the street for any length of time or lingering nearby would simply invite disaster. Sitting in the church parking lot after dark probably wasn’t the best idea either, but it was the only non-residential parking zone with quick access to the safe house.
Mihail shifted knees and removed a hand-sized black electronic device from the open nylon backpack next to him. The device had two stubby antennae and a muted orange LCD screen. He examined the LCD screen, which cast a barely detectable orange glow on his face. The multi-channel, wireless radio frequency (RF) detector showed a few faint wireless signals in the 2400-2480 MHz range used by off-the-shelf, commercial home wireless routers. He was more interested in anything using the 800-1000 MHz frequency range, which included specific sub-ranges most commonly used by wireless motion sensors. Anything lower than 800 MHz would similarly pique his attention. The RF detector had passively collected data since their arrival twenty minutes earlier, twice detecting a short frequency burst at 910MHz, which was one of the most common frequencies associated with the local GSM-900 cellular network. The short transmission also resembled what he’d seen before when a cell phone regularly registers to a local cell tower. At this point, he felt satisfied that the neither the yard nor the house was protected by motion detectors. He stood up and signaled for the team to move forward, placing the detector in the pack before slipping it over his shoulders. He disengaged the safety on his PP2000 submachine gun and stepped into the backyard.
Three of the four Spetsnaz operatives converged on the back door from different points in the yard, while the fourth operative slid along the right side of the house, looking for the power line connection. Mihail listened intently near one of the illuminated windows, but heard nothing beyond the distant hum of a car motor. He decided that they would try to pick the lock and deadbolt, instead of forcing the door open. He desperately wanted to avoid making noise in this neighborhood. If nobody was present in the house, he wanted time to inspect it for anything useful. While one of his operatives worked the locks with a small tool kit, he listened underneath a different window. The house was still. By the time he returned, less than one minute later, the two locks had been silently opened.
He lowered his PN21K night vision monocular into place over his right eye and spoke softly into the microphone attached to his headgear. Two seconds later, the house darkened, and the lead member of his team burst through the door with enough force to dislodge any chain lock barring their entrance. Mihail followed the second man through the door, and they fanned out, scanning the darkness with their goggles. Once the doorways leading out of the kitchen were secured, he whispered orders for the team to go silent and listen. Roughly two minutes later, he raised his night vision goggles and ordered the fourth operative to return electrical power to the house.
When the lights reenergized, they could plainly see what the rough green images cast by their night vision had indicated. The house had been cleared of everything, “sanitized” all the way down to the toilet paper rolls. He recalled the fourth member of his team, and they spent the next five minutes checking closets, opening drawers and prying at wallpaper in a futile attempt to find anything. Each operative returned to the kitchen cradling his submachine gun and quickly shaking his head. Nothing. He opened his backpack and scanned the radio frequency detector. He found a strong reading at 1621 MHz, which had started a few minutes ago. This was an L band frequency used for satellite communications. Someone knew they were here and would very likely receive a video feed of their foray through the house.
He signaled for the team to evacuate the structure, recalling the van once they were outside. On their way to the front of the house, he ordered the power to be permanently cut from the house. He checked the RF detector again and saw that the device hidden in the house continued to transmit, indicating an independent power source. He thought he had committed an error restoring power, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he had kept the power off. The big mistake had been assuming that they might find anything useful in a sanitized CIA safe house. Now someone knew for certain that they hadn’t lost interest in Anatoly Reznikov, which meant it was time to exercise the least desirable option on the table. As they waited for the van in the shadows, Mihail pulled out his encrypted cell phone and placed a call to SVR headquarters. As he had anticipated, their night had just begun.
Chapter 3
1:26 PM
CIA Headquarters
McLean, Virginia
Karl Berg reviewed the last few slides from the PowerPoint presentation he would present to Thomas Manning in ten minutes. He had been awake much of the night, putting together the first draft of his urgent appeal for the CIA to take action against Vektor Laboratory’s bioweapons department. With Reznikov’s inside information, they could send General Sanderson’s Russian Group to destroy the facility and eliminate key personnel involved in the program. Reznikov felt confident that a small, properly equipped elite force could successfully execute the mission, given the right tactical intelligence…which he would provide.
Audra Bauer joined him for part of the morning, helping him smooth most of the slides. She had already spoken at length with Manning about the threat posed by Vektor labs. Israeli intelligence assets had repeatedly warned the CIA that the Iranians continue to aggressively pursue research positions wit
hin Vektor, despite Israel’s best efforts. From the CIA assessment of the past decade, Iranian scientists seemed to die from sudden natural causes at a startlingly higher rate than their counterparts in other nations. A scientific career in the fields of biology, chemistry, or physics currently ranks as one of the most hazardous occupations in Iran.
The Israelis have little doubt that the Iranians intend to steal bioweapons samples from the lab, or collaborate with Russian scientists associated with the program. Recent grumblings from their Mossad liaison left Manning and Bauer with the impression that Israel was no longer satisfied with the CIA’s backseat approach to the Iranian’s unquenchable thirst for weapons of mass destruction. Manning had dodged three meeting requests from the Mossad liaison since the president appeared on national television to explain the domestic terrorist attack on the nations’ water supply. They both knew what Wiljam Minkowitz would say. Time for the U.S. to step up.
Berg’s job wouldn’t be to convince Manning of the necessity to target Vektor. Manning was already primed to take their efforts to the next level. His presentation was designed to convince Manning that they could win the director’s approval, which would ultimately impact their chances of winning over the president. Without the president’s approval, Berg would have to make some difficult choices. Drop the topic entirely, or take the operation “off the books.” He didn’t think an unsanctioned black op would be feasible in this situation. Novosibirsk was the third-largest city in Russian, nearly 200 miles beyond the Kazakhstan border. Getting Sanderson’s team to the target wasn’t the problem. Evading the massive military and police response from the Novosibirsk Oblast would be impossible without significant, targeted intervention. The feasibility of this operation depended upon White House support, which shouldn’t be entirely difficult to win given the fact that a weaponized virus from Vektor labs nearly decapitated the government.
His STE (Secure Terminal Equipment) desk set rang, indicating a secure call from the operations watch center. He picked up the handset, which triggered the automatic negotiation of cryptographic protocols within the removable Fortezza Crypto Card inserted into his phone. Unique identifiers built into the card’s cryptographic processor verified that Karl Berg was on one end of the call and that the operations watch center was on the other. STE technology represented a major improvement over the STU-III system, where the cryptographic processor was built into the phone, and provided no unique identification procedures. With the STE system, Karl Berg could insert his card into any STE phone and conduct a secure, encrypted conversation.
“Karl Berg,” he answered.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Berg. I have a flash alert data package designated for your eyes only. How do you want me to proceed?”
“You can send it through my secure feed. I don’t have time to review the package in the ops center,” Berg said.
Berg knew where the package had originated, but he was dying to see the contents.
“Understood. You now have access to the package.”
“Thank you,” Berg said and disconnected the call.
He navigated to the CIA Operations intranet gateway and entered a long string of passwords that enabled access to his secure feed. He found the data package in question and opened it.
A separate screen opened, showing eight data sets, all of which contained a hyperlink. He opened the one showing the longest period of time, which ended three minutes ago in Sweden. “19:17.24GMT/13:17.24EST-19:23.53GMT/13:23.53EST.”
The hyperlink activated a data recording captured by one of the motion-activated, night vision capable cameras hidden in the Viggbyholm safe house’s fire detectors. Located on the ceiling of each room, the cameras provided a searchable three hundred and sixty degree view within each space. The recording showed a three-man team enter the kitchen from the door leading into the backyard and proceed to wait for two minutes. Each operative wore latest generation Russian night vision monocles and carried the same type of submachine guns used by the Zaslon Spetsnaz team in Stockholm.
After two minutes, the house lights came on, momentarily blinding the camera as the smart-sensor switched camera lens inputs. Definitely not your garden-variety operatives. He guessed they were some variation of SVR Spetsnaz. A fourth operative joined them through the back door, and they proceeded to search the house. Berg toggled through the other hyperlinks, which showed the team conducting a quick, yet thorough investigation of the empty house. He returned to the first link, which was still running, and almost missed the most important part of the data feed. The lead operative removed a small, black electronic device from his backpack and immediately ordered the team’s evacuation. Less than fifteen seconds later, the scene went dark, replaced by the green image of an empty kitchen. The team leader knew that their raid didn’t go unnoticed.
Berg sat back in his chair and considered the situation. He hadn’t expected the Russians to forget about Reznikov. Given what the crazed scientist had told him over vodka shots and gourmet food, he was surprised that they hadn’t heard more from the Russians. Of course, the Russians were still dealing with the staggering fallout caused by Reznikov’s manmade disaster in Monchegorsk. Compound that with Reznikov’s link to the terrorist plot in the United States, and the Russians didn’t really have a basis to object on any level. Everything led back to a program that supposedly didn’t exist.
As predicted, the Russians would dig around quietly for Reznikov. But how long would their efforts remain below the surface? The Spetsnaz team in the video didn’t look like they would have passed up the opportunity to take down anyone found in the house. The big question was where would they go next? If Berg was pulling the strings, he’d start with the Stockholm embassy.
Three members of the CIA station knew critical details about Petrovich’s operation. One of them was temporary assigned to his staff, while she awaited her next assignment, which took her out of play. This left the Stockholm embassy’s CIA station chief and her assistant station chief. The Russians wouldn’t dare touch the station chief, but if pressed, they might make a move on the station’s second-in-charge. This was the only move that made sense.
Given the sensitivity of Reznikov’s circumstances, it would be reasonable for the Russians to assume that the details of the operation had been restricted to the most senior CIA officer at the station. In this case, neither the station chief or her assistant knew the identity of the target, but this wasn’t something he could pass on to the Russians to dissuade them from taking regrettable action. All he could do was warn Emily Bradshaw that the Russians were actively prowling the streets of Stockholm. He opened a different internet directory and located the station chief’s after hours contact information.
Excerpt from The Jakarta Pandemic
Prologue
Alex checked his watch for the tenth time in less than twenty minutes. 5:50 p.m.
Where are they?
He had started to lose his patience early, which came as no surprise. He had been lying under the McCarthy’s play set for nearly an hour, as a vicious Nor’easter dumped thick waves of snow on him. This would be enough to test anyone’s patience…and physical limits.
He lowered his night vision scope for a moment and rubbed his eyes. Now, even the green image in the scope added to his discomfort. He just hoped that Charlie was keeping a better watch over the stretch of ground that defined the ambush site.
He’d better be, or they could stumble right through here undetected.
Alex had doubts about spotting them with his night vision scope. The near absence of ambient light combined with a blinding snowstorm continued to degrade the already grainy image formed by the inexpensive first generation night scope.
He twisted open the green ceramic thermos and poured the last of the hot tea prepared for him by Kate. He sipped the steaming tea from the thermos cap, placed the cap down next to the rifle in front of him, and took another look through the night vision scope. He could still see the Hayes’ house, but the image was even
grainier. He knew the batteries were not the issue; he’d just changed them. Soon enough, he’d have to rely solely on Charlie to spot them in time to spring a coordinated ambush. If not, he’d have to take the three men down himself, which wasn’t optimal, but was still well within his range of capabilities. He didn’t want to think about what could happen if they slipped by him. Nothing would stand between these psychopaths and his family.
As long as I see them before they’re right on top of me, I’ll be fine.
Alex swigged the rest of the warm tea and replaced the lid. He tucked the thermos into his backpack and checked his rifle again. Looking through the Aimpoint scope, he saw that the red dot still glowed brightly in the center of the sight. He pulled back on the AR-15’s charging handle and ejected the bullet loaded in the chamber, leaving the brass cartridge in the snow where two other bullets lay. He’d ejected one bullet every half-hour to ensure that the freezing temperatures had not affected the weapon’s mechanical action. A malfunction tonight would spell disaster.
He suffered a sudden, violent, and insuppressible full body shiver, which rendered him useless for a few seconds. He couldn’t last out here all night, and he knew it. He looked through the night vision scope again, and the green image confirmed that he was still alone. Staring through the scope, he wondered how it was possible for things to have spiraled so far out of control.
So far gone, in fact, that he now found himself lying under a neighbor’s play set in a blizzard, eagerly waiting to kill. He never thought twice about doing this in Iraq. It was his mission. He didn’t really have any problem with it here either, and he could rationalize this act on several levels. He had to do it: for the good of the neighborhood, and probably society in general, but most importantly…for the immediate safety of his family.
Black Flagged Apex Page 56