by Ethan Jones
Javin’s eyes never left Mila. Her facial muscles were tight, and the fingers of her left hand had turned into a fist. Her voice was razor-sharp, devoid of any emotions.
He thought a moment about his reply. “If you already have the plan in place, why do you need me?”
Mila gave him a small, frustrated smile. “It’s still a plan, Javin.” She stressed the word “plan” more than necessary. “And we’ve had a complication.”
Javin took another drink, a larger sip than earlier. “What kind of—”
“Tarasov has disappeared.”
“How did that happen?”
“Still trying to figure it out. But that’s irrelevant. Needless to say, we might have a rat. That limits the number of people I can count on.”
“I see, so you need my help to hunt down Tarasov in the US, is that it?” Javin’s tone of voice sounded like Mila was asking the impossible.
“Not quite. You and I will go after Tarasov, that’s for sure. But not in the States.”
Javin cocked his head. “Why not?”
Mila grinned. “We have this agreement with our American friends, according to which we shouldn’t operate on their soil.”
Javin groaned. “And of course, you always keep your word…”
“My dear Javin, we do what we can.” Mila’s voice took on her usual playful tone. “The main reason is because Tarasov is no longer in the States, according to my intel.”
“Where did he go?”
“Where do you think?”
Javin’s frown, which had already wrinkled his face, grew deeper and darker. “Canada, he’s gone to Canada.”
Mila smiled. “You’re right. That’s where you and I are going hunting for this traitor…”
Chapter Three
The Old Boat Tavern
Washington, DC
United States of America
The server brought their food, which filled the air with a delicious aroma. It tasted as Javin had expected: The steak was crisp on the outside and juicy on the inside. It reminded him of the rare times his dad would get the perfect steak off the barbeque grill. Javin’s father had been a trade representative for Canada in a host of countries, including Italy, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Israel. He had passed away about seven years earlier.
Javin didn’t have many memories of his father—who was either too busy working or too busy traveling for work. One of the vivid memories was the two of them trying to get that elusive perfect steak. They got it right maybe every fourth or fifth time. How good would I have been as a diplomat? He grinned. Not very good. But what will I do once I’m out of the CIS? He shrugged and shook his head, pushing that thought to a far corner of his mind.
He tried to refocus as he chewed slowly, enjoying every morsel. He thought about his reply to Mila. She had asked for his assistance, and he’d definitely need her in order to complete his own personal vendettas. He’d just have to limit his involvement to the bare minimum, considering his precarious situation.
Mila finished chewing a small piece of the steak, then sipped her wine. Javin had refilled it shortly after they had started their meal. She wiped her lips with the blue napkin, then said, “How is it?” She tipped her head toward his plate.
“Fantastic, great choice.”
“And the potato?”
“I haven’t tried it.”
“Not as crisp as I’d have liked it, but it’s scrumptious.”
Javin set his fork down, then said, “What’s your intel on Tarasov?”
“He traveled to Detroit three days ago. My team followed him, and we were expecting him to fly to DC, where we’d pick him up. He never came back. Instead, he crossed the border into Canada.”
“Legally?”
“It appears so. He entered Canada at the bridge.”
Javin nodded. The Ambassador Bridge, suspended over the Detroit River, connected Detroit in Michigan to Windsor in Ontario. “What passport did Tarasov have?”
Mila shrugged. “He had so many… We haven’t hacked the border records yet.”
“Let me see what I can find…”
“Tarasov is an old, sly fox. He knows we’re coming for him. He’d use every trick in the book to disappear…”
“Are you including me in that ‘we’?”
Mila cocked her head. “Didn’t we agree on that already?”
“We discussed it, but I didn’t commit.”
Mila’s face twisted into a scowl. “Fair enough, Javin. I misinterpreted your silence for approval. So, tell me now, are you in or out?”
“Before I answer that, you need to know about my personal situation—”
“About your admin leave?” Mila waved her left hand, then cut into her steak. “Old news, Javin.”
He tried not to look surprised, but made a poor attempt at it. “How… how do you know that?”
“What can I say? I have, had, a personal interest in this matter, well… in you.”
Javin began to shake his head. “Mila, you’ve been spying on me, and I don’t like it…”
She offered him a small smile. “Shhhh, it’s still a secret.” She looked around. “We’re both spies, Javin. That’s what we do. If it’s any consolation, I’ve used private sources, so I’m the only one that knows about your situation.”
“Private sources? Still, they’re infiltrating my service or somehow intercepting our comms.”
Mila shrugged. “I wouldn’t have told you if I knew it was going to ruin your mood…”
“My mood will be okay once you tell me your source.”
“That will have to wait until the end of this mission. Tarasov in exchange for the source.”
“That’s a one-sided deal.”
Mila chewed slowly and nodded. “Okay,” she said when she was finished. “Let’s balance it: What do you want?”
“Support with trusted, capable men. Perhaps some money, a loan.”
“I can do the first. Money, that’s a difficult one. How much?”
“Two million.”
Mila almost dropped her fork. “You want two million dollars as a loan? How are you going to pay it back?”
Javin didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted a forkful of the baked potato loaded up with cheddar cheese, sour cream, chives, and bacon bits. “Mmmm, this is heavenly…”
Mila still held his satisfied gaze, so he said, “It’ll be a third world country loan.”
“What does that mean?”
“It will be forgiven.”
“Not in your lifetime.”
Javin shrugged and reached for his wine. He hadn’t sipped even half of his first glass. “How much damage has Tarasov caused?”
Mila frowned. “Still, I don’t print the money…”
“But you know people who do. Each day Tarasov lives means he can continue his betrayal, costing lives of SVR operatives, or assets and—”
“Okay, you made your point.” She stopped him with a raised hand. “Two million dollars and a black ops team. That’s all.”
“Almost. I might need safe infil to a couple of locations or genuine IDs.”
“What places?”
“China, Syria, perhaps Lebanon. I’m also going to the Gulf States. Qatar, maybe the Emirates.”
“That can be arranged. But tell me there’s nothing else.”
Javin smiled. “There’s nothing else.”
“So, we have a deal?”
“We do.”
“Let’s seal the deal with a toast.” She picked up her glass. “That we may get what we want.”
“And may those who betrayed us get what they deserve.”
They clinked their glasses, and Javin took a small sip.
Mila finished her glass, then cut into the steak.
They ate for a minute or two in silence, then she said, “What are you looking for?”
“A couple of bad people. They need to pay for what they did to me and the ones I cared for.”
“Revenge.”
“Justice.”
“How did you find Tarasov?”
“How we usually find defectors. They make mistakes. They miss their family. Children, grandchildren especially. Mr. Tarasov is very clever, but he loves the little ones, especially Victoria. She’s eight, and he wanted to hear her voice. So he called the number of a burner phone. It belonged to the neighbor of the brother of the driver who took Tarasov’s granddaughter to school every morning.”
Javin looked at Mila. “He went to such great lengths to hide his traces.”
“Well, not far enough. The neighbor, not very smart in tradecraft, called the driver, saying he had received a call from their grandma, who’s dead. That was the SVR’s first suspicion, which proved to be accurate.”
Javin nodded. “It’s always the weakest link.”
“Always. We bugged the burner phone, and the rest was easy.”
“And was this op related to your fake death?”
Mila smiled. “I was getting there. Yes, Tarasov’s men suspected we were coming for them. Any defector knows sooner or later that we’ll nab them. Tarasov still has friends, assets, and contacts active in Russia, some closely tied to the SVR, unfortunately.” A worried frown replaced her smile. “So, we planned my disappearance, to make it easier for me to slip inside the country unnoticed.”
“What’s Tarasov’s network in Canada?”
“Still determining that. It’s safe to assume the CIA has exchanged at least part of the intel learned from Tarasov with your agency. And we suspect Tarasov might have reached out to the CIS, before deciding to defect to the Americans.”
“Okay, so we work on two fronts: figure out where he might be hiding and who he knows in the CIS.”
“Good plan. I’ll send you everything I have.”
“Okay, now tell me about your watchers,” Javin raised his wine glass and held it up for the blond man in the gray suit to see it.
“We’re not supposed to be here, and the FBI has made that clear to us. So, I’ve got to watch my back, make sure they don’t know what we’re doing.”
“Are they observing us now?”
“No, unless they followed you…”
“No one followed me.”
“Where are you meeting your girlfriend?” Mila said with a certain tone of sadness in her voice.
“Not here, so no chance of someone following her to this location.”
“Good.”
“Now, how long before you can fly me out of the US or Canada discreetly?”
“Three days.”
“You can’t do any sooner?”
“Of course I can.” She gestured toward her phone. “We have a diplomatic plane on stand-by at Dulles Airport. Roman back there,” she tipped her head toward the watchers’ table, “he can drive you to the airport pronto, without even saying goodbye to your sweetheart. But you don’t want to do that, do you?” Her voice turned sharp, with a hint of scolding.
Javin frowned. “Are you giving me advice on my love life?”
“Yes, advice you may not want, but you need. Liberty is a good woman. Don’t squander this opportunity, Javin.”
He shook his head. “Won’t happen.”
“Good. So enjoy your time off with her. Have a good time. Once we start working on this op, we won’t stop until we’ve caught Tarasov and everyone else working with him…”
Chapter Four
The Diplomat Square
Georgetown, Washington, DC
United States of America
After their cruise, Javin and Liberty made their way to the Diplomat Square, a lavish restaurant in Georgetown. They walked hand-in-hand through cobbled, leafy streets, their feet crunching over the fallen leaves, passing by old, brick-fronted townhouses. The air was cool, and the colors of the season were majestic. Javin was enjoying the time with Liberty, although he’d have to tell her soon about his plan.
He did so after their server, a pretty woman in her forties, had brought them their drinks. Liberty had picked a bottle of E. Guigal Condrieu La Doriane—the most expensive wine in the establishment, but that suited Javin fine. He wasn’t going to start nickel-and-diming while they were out to have a good time. He didn’t know when or if he’d have another opportunity to go out again with the love of his life once he embarked on the nearly impossible operation with Mila.
Javin and Liberty talked for a few minutes about their day, then she told him her ideas about the next day’s sightseeing tour. Javin was okay with most of it, but he suggested they should visit the National Arboretum and enjoy a picnic there. Liberty loved nature walks, and there was perhaps no better place in the city to enjoy the endless outdoor spaces and trails. If Liberty declined, he could live with it. He thought it showed that he was at least an interested participant in their adventures and that he cared. Any woman could tolerate hearing only so much of Whatever you want, dear. And Liberty, as he was finding out more and more with every passing minute, was not your typical woman.
Liberty agreed to Javin’s idea.
He smiled at her, sipped from his glass, and leaned closer to the table, “Do you want to stay one more day in DC?” he asked in a warm tone.
Liberty cocked an eye at him. “Why, do you have another ‘important’ business meeting?”
The way she said those words, with a great sense of indignation, told Javin that she wasn’t over her anger. She hadn’t been happy that Javin had met with his contact and was even more frustrated when she noticed alcohol on his breath. While not usually a drinker, this evening Liberty had turned to the bottle, mostly to drown her sorrow.
“No, I told you I have no meetings tomorrow or the next day.”
“And the day after that?”
Javin hesitated for a brief moment. “We were supposed to return to Ottawa.”
“Yes, and perhaps visit Jasper or Banff. But now that plan has changed, hasn’t it?”
“It was only a plan and tentative at that—”
“But it has changed.”
Javin nodded.
“When?”
“I learned over lunch.”
“You told me you were off work for at least two weeks…”
“That’s true.”
“So, why are you changing our plans? Are you going back to work?”
“No, but… there’s something I need to do.”
“Are you trying to find a new job?”
“No.”
“So, is this something personal?”
Javin nodded again. “You could say that.”
Liberty gave Javin a frustrated look, then said, “Are you cheating on me with this woman?”
“What? No, no, absolutely not.”
“So, who is she?”
“I told you: She’s a colleague.”
“Who does she work for?”
“I can’t tell you that, but she works for an allied country.”
A little fib that would be disputed by many who considered Russia anything but an ally. However, Javin’s experiences with Mila and the SVR had been overall positive.
Liberty shook her head.
Javin said, “She needs a favor, and she’s helped me in the past. I’ve got to help her.”
“Okay, what is it that she wants?”
“She’s looking for someone.”
“A ‘bad man,’ as you like to call them?”
“The worst kind.”
“And what are you getting out of this deal, Javin?”
He peered deep into her wary eyes. He had told her enough for Liberty to understand he was playing a dangerous game of favors. “I need her help with something personal.” He leaned even closer to her, resting his elbows on the table. “In my last operation, I lost someone dear to my heart. One of my partners was killed. Another one was kidnapped and roughed up. I have the opportunity to make things right. For them, and for me.”
Liberty gave him a nod of understanding. “And what is the danger level to you, Javin?”
He didn’t
shrug or make dismissive gestures. He had learned to appreciate Liberty’s concern about his well-being. “It’s manageable. I won’t be alone.”
“This woman, she’ll be with you in this operation?”
Javin nodded. He glanced at the half-empty wine glass. It had a straw-yellow color and a great taste, reminding Javin of a very flavorful apple. “Yes, and others. This agent and I, we have a purely professional relationship.”
Liberty nodded slowly, but she didn’t look convinced. “When will you be back?”
Javin bit his lip at the dreaded question. He knew it was coming, but still he didn’t have a fully satisfactory reply. He didn’t know when or if he’d be back, and he didn’t want to lie to Liberty. So he said, “I don’t know. It’s going to take a few days, a week perhaps. It depends.”
“On what?”
“On so many things. What others can do, if they can… find what we need and when.”
Liberty nodded again, but the look of doubt remained on her face. She sipped from her glass and looked around the half-full restaurant. She seemed to be thinking, debating within herself on whether to ask more questions or say what was on her mind. She shrugged slowly and said, “Promise me you’ll phone or email me daily.”
Javin began to shake his head. “I… I’m not sure I can do that—”
Liberty frowned. “Well, I’m not sure I can do this, Javin. We have a few days to ourselves, a great time, then you disappear for God knows how long… I don’t know when I’ll see you again… if I’ll see you again…” Desperation and disappointment were evident in her low, quivering voice.
Javin reached out and held her hand. He gave it a soft squeeze as he said, “Liberty, I’m trying not to make any promises I can’t keep. I don’t want to lie or disappoint you.”
“So don’t.”
“It’s not that easy. I’ll do my best to keep in touch with you, but it might not be every day.”
“How often, then?”
“As often as I can.” Javin shrugged. “Let’s agree I’ll call you every two-three days. Maybe we can Skype too…”
Liberty’s face cracked a small, sad smile. “Oooooh, Skype… Don’t tease me, Javin.” Her voice rose up with a little snark while her face twisted in obvious pain.