by Ted Halstead
So, not flashy, but upscale.
A few minutes later, Neda padded into the kitchen in stocking feet, looking in all directions around her.
"Have you seen her?" Neda hissed.
"Not yet. Here, have a cup of coffee. It's fresh," Kharlov said as he poured one from the pot.
Neda grimaced but accepted the cup and sat down at the small kitchen table.
As Kharlov had hoped, Neda relaxed slightly as she sipped her coffee.
Kharlov poured a cup for himself and remained standing.
"You know, I believe Alina when she said she didn't write our orders," Kharlov began.
At the mention of Alina's name, Kharlov could see Neda's immediate reaction.
It was not positive.
Kharlov held up his hands. "Yes, she could have been more delicate in explaining the consequences for mission failure, both for Vasilyev and Grishkov and for us. But we know she is no diplomat. In her way, I think she was just trying to be honest. And you have to admit we needed to know our options here."
Neda frowned and sat silently for a moment, clearly weighing Kharlov's words.
Finally, she nodded reluctantly.
"OK, maybe I have been focusing my anger at our situation on her when she didn't deserve it. But it's hard for me to stomach the idea that my failure could lead directly to my husband's death. Even worse, it's making me fear obsession with that worry will hurt my performance on this mission," Neda said glumly.
"Good morning," Alina said as she walked into the kitchen, carrying a small bag.
Both Kharlov and Neda stared at her.
Alina's long blond hair was gone. In its place was short hair, dyed a mousy brown.
She pulled a mug from the cabinet and held it towards Kharlov, who was still standing in front of the coffee pot.
"Coffee, please," Alina said.
Once she had taken several deep swallows, Alina sighed and gestured towards Kharlov. "Let's sit. We have much to discuss."
Kharlov was careful to take the seat closest to Neda.
"First, I see you both noticed my new haircut," Alina said.
Kharlov nodded. "I must say I'm impressed. By necessity, I've had to cut my own hair several times. The results were never flattering."
"Don't be too impressed. The hair you saw before was a wig," Alina said with a shrug.
Neda looked at Alina suspiciously. "It certainly looked like yours. We were together for days on our last mission in Ukraine, and I'd have known if you were wearing a wig then."
"Good eye," Alina said, nodding with approval. "The wig was made of my own hair by our technical staff in Moscow. Changing our appearance is vital to this mission, and this was an easy part of meeting that requirement. Harder, for me anyway, is changing my eye color to brown. I hate wearing contacts, so I won't put those in until we leave for the mission."
Kharlov's eyebrows rose. "So, I assume that means changes in appearance are in store for us as well?"
"Yes," Alina said with a short nod. "But a few other details before I go into that."
"Right," Kharlov said. "Like how we're going to get onto the island where the Spaceship will be launched."
"I was about to tell you that," Alina replied. "You won't."
Kharlov and Neda both stared at Alina in disbelief.
"We won't?" Neda repeated, finally. "We must upload instructions to the rocket that will result in its destruction. It is certain such instructions can only be sent directly to the rocket via a dedicated line from the control center on the island where the launch will take place. Without access to that line, this mission will fail."
Alina shook her head. "I understand why you would think so, but we have discovered a weakness in the American command and control system. First, remember that this rocket is launched by a business, not the American government. So, it is not using a network secured to government standards."
Neda and Kharlov both nodded and visibly relaxed. Yes, it made sense that a business would be more vulnerable than a government.
"Now, that does not mean no attempt was made to avoid exactly what we plan to do. The designers of the network connected all of its launch centers via high-speed fiber optical cable. For the most part, the network is designed to transfer data allowing rocket activities to be monitored simultaneously from all launch centers. However, there is also a capability to allow rocket operating software to be transferred to all launch centers," Alina said.
Neda shook her head. "But surely there is a way for them to ensure that the type of code we plan to upload is only coming from the center in command of that particular launch, correct?"
Alina smiled. "There is. But the network designers miscalculated. Or maybe, it's better to say they outsmarted themselves. Since they built the network and operate it, naturally, they know the time it takes a signal to travel from origin to destination. So, a time limit was set for transmission of a critical command to the rocket."
Kharlov nodded. "So, a critical command from the launch center in California to this one in Florida would be automatically blocked as invalid."
"But how does that help us?" Neda asked with a frown. "Surely this network cannot be accessed through the Internet?"
"No," Alina acknowledged. "But we can access it on this island, posing as public utility workers."
Neda shook her head stubbornly. "I think you underestimate their network engineers. We may not be far from the launch center, but I still think their software will detect we are not on the same island."
Alina arched one eyebrow. "Even if that additional distance is under one hundred meters?"
For once, Neda was at a loss for words. Finally, she repeated, "Less than one hundred meters? How is that possible?"
"We have located an access point from which we can reach the fiber optic cable just after it leaves the island with the launch center to the island where we are now sitting. We are certain a command sent from there will be treated as valid," Alina replied.
A bit smugly, Kharlov thought.
"I am sure access points to this cable are monitored. And I saw many cameras mounted along roads on our drive to this house," Kharlov said flatly.
"True," Alina replied. "This cable's direct access path is indeed monitored. But you will approach it underground after entering a separate underground conduit that has been unused for years."
"Have you confirmed that the connection exists in reality, not just on paper?" Kharlov asked.
"No," Alina said, shaking her head. "There was no time. Besides, it makes no sense to go to the location until we are ready to use it. If the paper doesn't match reality, there is no time to make an alternate plan before the rocket launches anyway."
Kharlov grimaced, and it was clear he was anything but satisfied. "At least tell me where you obtained this information and how sure you are of its accuracy," he said.
Alina hesitated but finally nodded. "Normally, I would not divulge sources to agents in the field, but since your lives are so directly on the line, agree you have the right to know. We obtained most of this information from a SpaceLink employee. He was identified as likely to respond positively to our approach after we ran a credit check on all employees we thought would have access to the necessary information."
Kharlov frowned. "Well, now we know how you obtained the software code we have been using as the basis for our attack on this rocket. But isn't it likely that company security detected such a wide-ranging inquiry?"
"No," Alina said, shaking her head emphatically. "A vast quantity of data on all Americans is available to anyone willing to pay a credit reporting bureau. We go the extra step of making the inquiries through several small banks we own, of course via multiple cutouts. Americans' lack of privacy, particularly from these credit reporting bureaus, has been a real boon to our operations here."
"So, if you identified the target through a credit bureau, he had significant debt problems. But access to the variety of information you obtained from him suggests a high-ranking employee. Wasn't he well
paid?" Kharlov asked.
Alina smiled. "Very," she said shortly. "But he spent his money even faster than it came in. Gambling is a highly efficient means to do so."
Kharlov cocked his head, puzzled. "Gambling? I know gambling is legal in Nevada and Atlantic City. But I thought it was illegal elsewhere. I suppose it shows I have much to learn about this country."
"That realization is always the beginning of wisdom," Alina said with a grave nod.
Neda smiled despite herself at Kharlov's discomfort.
"Native Americans living in reservations are allowed to operate casinos in many states, including Florida since they are considered sovereign nations in some respects. Casinos also function as a form of reparations not requiring money from taxpayers. This SpaceLink employee had never been near a casino before and quickly became addicted to gambling. There is such a casino about a two-hour drive from here," Alina said.
"Very well," Kharlov said. "But what if this employee has a sudden attack of conscience? Or is arrested for some other reason and decides to trade his knowledge of someone willing to pay for information about SpaceLink's network for his freedom?"
"That can't happen," Alina said, shaking her head even more emphatically.
"And why not?" Kharlov asked.
"Because he had a motor vehicle accident and did not survive," Alina said coldly.
Once the silence that followed her statement had stretched on for several seconds, Alina said, "You may as well know that I managed this aspect of the mission. I picked this man among several candidates first because he was unmarried and had no children. I also confirmed through surveillance he was not in a relationship with either a woman or a man."
Neda's face showed no expression as she said neutrally, "So, you kept the damage to a minimum."
Alina shrugged. "You could say that. For the mission, though, it's more relevant to say the man won't be missed. His death has been ruled an accident by the police, and the case closed. We know of no one asking questions about that conclusion."
Neither Kharlov nor Neda asked whether the accident had been real or staged. Or whether Alina had handled that too.
Looking at Alina, they already knew the answer to both questions.
Kharlov frowned. "So, the prohibition on injuring or killing Americans during this mission only applies to us?"
Alina shook her head. "That's not the right way to put it. I had several days to plan, prepare and assess before execution. The risk was minimal since the target providing information was a civilian, and the attack on the rocket was not yet underway. By contrast, the danger you will encounter will most likely come from armed police while you are carrying out the attack and making your escape. That is why the prohibition applies to you."
"Very well," Kharlov said grudgingly. "You said that you obtained most of this information from this SpaceLink employee. What about the rest?"
"Nearly all came from public records. Incredibly, some of what we needed was placed by local authorities on the Internet. Most American states have laws requiring information relating to utilities they regulate to be easily accessible. Other information required an in-person visit because the records were not available in digital form. The closest I came to security was a clerk who asked for my utility company ID. She barely looked at it, let alone made any attempt to confirm my identity," Alina said, her upper lip curling in contempt.
Kharlov nodded. "Which brings me to my next question. I assume we will all have utility company IDs. But what happens if someone does call the company?"
Alina looked at Kharlov, puzzled. Then her expression cleared, and she said, "Of course, you only played a brief part in one FSB mission, the one in Ukraine. We don't leave such details to chance, particularly for a high-priority operation like this one. An agent is in place at the utility company that supposedly issued our IDs. Their computer system will confirm both the IDs and the work order we will use to carry out the mission are genuine."
Kharlov's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How did you have the time to place an agent at an American utility company? Let alone one with access to multiple systems?"
Alina sighed. "Very well. He is not our agent. He is from G2."
"The Cubans!" Neda exclaimed. "Are we sure we can trust him?"
"You are right to worry. I wouldn't trust just any operative from another intelligence service, even one where our ties go back as far as they do with the Cubans. As it happens, I trained this particular agent myself in Moscow when I took a break from field operations. It is not a coincidence. It is one of the reasons, along with our previous experience working together, that I was put in charge of this mission," Alina replied.
"Good," Kharlov said. "Now, let's imagine we are successful in accomplishing our mission. How will we get back home?" he asked.
"I will drive the van that will take us to the location with the access point. It will have a removable decal bearing a utility company logo. While you carry out the mission, I will provide overwatch. Once you complete the mission, I will switch the decal and license plates and drive us to Key West. A fast boat will be docked there for our use in reaching Havana," Alina said.
"How long will all that take?" Neda asked.
Alina shrugged. "Impossible to be sure. Fortunately, we are driving to Key West on a weekday, and it is not currently prime tourism season. Still, seven hours is optimistic. Once there, we can leave immediately for Havana, which is less than two hundred kilometers away."
"If you need a break, I was trained in the operation of any powered vessel. I presume this fast boat does not use sails," Kharlov said.
"You presume correctly," Alina said with a smile. "And fortune seems to be with us so far. The forecast is for clear skies and no delay for the rocket's launch, and that's good news for our trip to Cuba as well. Swells should be moderate and allow us to reach Havana in a few hours. Once there, you will depart on the first available flight to Europe. There are many flying from Havana, so you should both be back in Moscow by the following day."
"I suppose that leaves transformation of our appearance. What will that involve?" Kharlov asked.
Alina said nothing and instead reached into her small bag. Her hand emerged with a gleaming straight razor.
Alina put it on the kitchen table with a wicked smile.
"This was my father's, and I brought it with me just for this mission. This model is the ZTV Dvuhzakovnaya," Alina said.
Neda cocked her head curiously. "Just when I think I've mastered Russian, I'll hear another unfamiliar word. What does 'Dvuhzakovnaya' mean?"
Kharlov stared at it, shaking his head. "Double forged, which explains how even now it's in such great shape. ZTV stands for Zavod Trud, labor factory, and Vacha, the town in Nizhny Novgorod where the factory was located. ZTV used to make combat knives for the Red Army in Soviet days, and plenty of them are still around. I saw some in Chechnya."
Alina nodded. "ZTV also made surgical instruments. They began making razors in the early 1800s and stopped around 1970 as straight razors went out of fashion. You can see from the stamp on this one that it was made in 1924."
"A real antique. So, what do you propose to do with this one?" Kharlov asked, still staring at the razor.
"Oh, I think you know," Alina said, her smile broadening as she fixed her gaze on Kharlov's beard.
Neda's answering laugh was quickly joined by Alina's.
Wonderful, Kharlov thought glumly as Alina stood to begin her task. For now, at least, the conflict between these two appeared to be over.
But at what a cost!
Chapter Twenty-One
Zhongnanhai Compound
Beijing, China
President Lin Wang Yong impatiently gestured for Army Commander Shi to take a seat.
"I hope you have good news for me," Lin growled.
So, though every effort had been made to restrict the information, the news Shi had learned about the Air Force attack on the American satellites must be true.
It had not
gone well.
General Yang was indeed fortunate to have his job still.
I wonder how?
These thoughts passed through Shi's head in the time it took him to nod acknowledgment of Lin's question.
"I do have good news, sir. You asked us to keep the Indian military occupied on our mutual border without allowing the conflict to escalate to one with major casualties. We have done exactly that. Further, we have made the Indians show their hand," Shi said with satisfaction.
"How so?" Lin asked, his curiosity overcoming the annoyance he was still feeling at Yang's failure.
"Reports from our front-line snipers confirm our suspicions that the Indians have deployed two key capabilities to our border. First, the American-made Barrett sniper rifle, firing a round even capable of penetrating light armor. Second, a mine laying drone. Best of all is that we obtained this knowledge without losing any of our soldiers, despite the Indians' best efforts," Shi said.
"Yes, I saw the report that two of our soldiers were injured. But they are expected to return to duty?" Lin said.
Shi nodded. "In a few more days. In the meantime, I would like your authorization to send a message to the Indians. It should not lead to a major escalation."
Shi then explained his proposal. Lin considered it for a few moments and then shrugged.
"Approved," Lin said. Shi was right. It shouldn't cause any real problems.
"Now, on to new business," Lin said.
Shi was careful to keep his expression neutral in response, though internally, he groaned. What new adventure was this?
"I told you previously to freeze construction work on the new bases we're building in the South China Sea. I had hoped that would induce the Americans to stop the deployment of new Internet satellites reaching inside our borders. But, they refuse to see reason. So, I want you to resume work. More, I want you to accelerate it," Lin said.
"Yes, sir," Shi said with relief. This was just more of what they'd been doing for years and should pose no problems.
But Lin wasn't done.
"When I say speed up, I mean I want the latest base you're building to be ready by next week. And by ready, I mean able to launch aircraft to defend our airspace. Can you do it?" Lin asked.