by Tom Haase
Does the asshole think I am deaf? "Of course, Minister. Perfectly." Nikolai wished he still held that glass of vodka in his hand.
"The president," the minister continued, "doesn’t want us to be blamed for supporting the terrorist attempts against America. If possible, he wants the weapon retrieved without the Americans having knowledge of our actions. Do you understand his order?"
No, minister, why don’t you tell me again since you seem to like the sound of your own voice? thought Nikolai, but he said, "Clearly. I’ll handle it."
"See that you do. Keep me informed, and tell me when you have succeeded."
Nikolai heard the buzz of the telephone line.
Well, at least he had correctly anticipated their actions, and he’d already initiated his own plan to accomplish it. His secretary let him know that Colonel Ivanov had arrived.
On entering the director’s office, the colonel presented himself at attention. His frame towered over the director as he looked at Nikolai with his bulldog face. The director took the man in and saw the picture of someone you would not want to piss off on a bright sunny day in the open, never mind a dark alley at night.
"Colonel, I have an assignment for you. First, however, I do want to go over a few details, as it has been some time since I last saw you. It was right after you had returned from Chechnya, if I am not mistaken."
“Correct, Director.” Not even a muscle of Colonel Ivanov’s toned body flinched as he stood at attention.
“Relax, Colonel. You accomplished a very difficult and dangerous mission for this office. You were able to take out the command and control structure of a large group of rebels with only a small force, and then you were in charge of the soldiers who killed the terrorists at that school and rescued the children. So I think you have what it takes to accomplish the mission I am now assigning you.”
Anton moved from the attention position to a more comfortable stance. His uniform bore the insignia of a colonel of infantry, with numerous decorations for bravery, and he sported the badge of the elite paratroopers.
"Have you ever been to the United States?"
"Yes. I went on an exchange visit for three weeks last year."
"How is your English?"
"Not so good. I can understand a lot better than I can speak."
"Before I go on, would you join me in a drink?"
"Of course, Minister."
Nikolai went over to the sideboard and poured two hefty shots. He presented one to the colonel and toasted to his health. They both downed the liquid.
The director continued, "For this mission I will get a translator to go with you. He will be fluent in the North American English and will be able to help in that area. Do you have someone who you would like to take with you?"
"Well, Director, that depends on what you want me to do," replied Anton.
"I want you to go to America, retrieve an atomic weapon and either kill or capture a renegade Russian scientist."
“In that case, I do have a soldier I would like to take with me. He served in Afghanistan as a sniper and was with me in the same capacity in Chechnya. He’s the best marksman in the army, and if I need to engage the target at a distance, he’s the man for the job. At close range, I can handle any situation.”
“By my authority, you can take him and get any specific equipment you deem necessary for the mission. If the weapon is used in America, the president fears we may be blamed for aiding the terrorists since the technology is Russian. We would prefer to get it back without the Americans ever getting hold of it. In any case, you must stop this man, this Yuri Borisov.”
"I will provide your office with a list for our embassy in Washington. They will need to prepare certain items to be ready on our arrival. When do you want us to go?"
"I will arrange for the three of you to be on Air France flight 2045 tomorrow morning. It arrives in Washington at three fifty-five tomorrow afternoon. Someone will meet you and provide the equipment you request, and they will give you an update on any changes in the situation. At that time, they will inform you of the target, give you a picture and any current information on his whereabouts. We also believe he’s working with a Middle Eastern terrorist group. You don’t need any of those details, pictures, etc., and you can’t carry it with you on the flight."
"What authority do I have?"
"Your orders come directly from the president. You will have a written order that will give you blanket authority to get this mission accomplished. Do you have any questions?"
"No, Director. I’ll get it done."
"I’m counting on you, Colonel. I also relay the president’s desire not to have a trial for this man. Do I make myself clear?"
16
Five Days Ago — Afternoon — Washington D.C
Mary Jean wanted to unravel the mystery of the man in the photograph taken in the Georgetown restaurant. As a first step in finding out the identity of the man, she arranged to meet with Michael Anthony, deputy director of the FBI and her longtime friend, at the Starbucks at Thirteenth and Pennsylvania Avenue. She ordered a skinny double latte and was sitting down at a small two-person table when she saw Mike enter.
Mary Jean smiled at him and he returned it. He wore a lightweight raincoat over a dark suit to help protect him from the blustery wind. She saw some gray starting to appear near his temples.
"Hi. Sorry I’m a little late. You said it was important, so I got here as quick as I could.”
"Thanks, Mike. I had to call on you on short notice. I thought you might be the only one who could help in this, or more precisely, the only one I could trust to keep his mouth shut outside of my agency."
"Sounds clandestine," he said, smiling, "but then again, you have nothing to do with covert activity according to your job title. Do you?"
"You know damn good and well what I do."
"Let me get a cup of joe and I’ll be right back to hear what you have to say."
He returned with his coffee and reclined in the chair, getting comfortable. "I’m all ears."
Mary Jean relayed to him how she had briefed the president on the movement of two operatives in the presence of Avery and Fazio. Subsequently, the named individuals had withstood an attack at the location she’d provided. Then she related what she’d witnessed at the restaurant, with Avery and another man apparently talking in a covert manner, and how she had taken a picture of the man in the restaurant. Mike sat back and said nothing for a long time.
"Do you have the photo?"
"I had my people make a print of it." She passed the small four-by-four print to Mike. He glanced at it for only a second.
"Well, I know who this is."
"You do. Out of all the people in the world, you know this man?”
"Yep. He’s the third secretary at the Iranian embassy here in Washington. You know the FBI is responsible for monitoring diplomatic personnel on US soil. This guy has come up before. He gets around and talks to all kinds of Islamic groups all over the country. We suspect he carries instructions for some of the operatives here, but we don’t have definite proof. At least, not enough to declare him PNG. Mary Jean, I’m getting tired of all this, so I put in for retirement. Not real soon but within a year. A guy named Rose is most likely to replace me. Good man, you’ll get along with him."
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I know that when someone decides it’s time, it’s generally the right thing to do. I’ll miss you.” She stopped, her train of thought broken by his announcement. After a moment, she refocused and continued. "Can’t you tag him as persona non grata without evidence?"
"Yes, but not without causing an allegation in the Islamic community that the FBI is profiling Muslims and that we’re harassing the Iranian embassy. Besides, you didn’t see him talking with Avery directly."
"That’s true, but it sure seemed like it from where I was sitting."
"I can get someone I trust to check into Avery a little more. You know, you could be opening up a can of worms. He’s the presiden
t’s oldest friend." Mike took a sip from his coffee, put it back on the table, and then looked at Mary Jean.
"I don’t like it, but there appears to be something going on, or else my instincts have gone south. Since both Avery and Fazio were there when I told the president about where . . . hell, you know who they are, since Matt briefed you on the attack in Texas."
"I figured they were the ones you were talking about."
"Could you check up on both Avery and Fazio? You guys can operate legally in the States, the CIA can’t. We can but don’t really have the assets to do it properly. You do," Mary Jean concluded.
"You always know when you should listen to that sixth sense. That’s how you saved my ass in the Gulf. You’ve said enough to convince me that there’s something here, especially with your spotting the Iranian. I’ll do some checking. What about anyone else who knew they were going to Texas?"
"Only the secretary at their office, SPAT, Inc. in Leesburg," Mary Jean said.
"I’ll get back to you in a day or two."
"Thanks, Mike."
"Can you tell me what’s going on with the operatives you mentioned? I assume they’re your assets and there’s something like a black op going on if the president asked about them."
"Mike, can you just trust me on this? If it gets to the point that you have to know more, I’ll get it to you, but right now you don’t want to know. I can tell you that the recent attacks on the military installations seem to have a direct bearing on this. Your agency is balls to the wall and overextended on trying to solve those occurrences, as is the military. What if another set of assaults happens in the next few days? Could you handle more?"
"I didn’t say this—no. Hell, we’re getting nowhere on the attacks of the last few days with no real leads. They all appear to have been planned for a long time. They were executed with precision, and the attackers have disappeared. The only connection that we’ve seen, and it might be coincidence, is that all the attacks happened at installations near universities."
"Well, all I can say now is that those operatives are involved in trying to solve a problem related to the attacks." Mary Jean’s cell rang, and after seeing the caller, she ignored it. "Your office might get a call from Matt or Bridget in the near future for assistance in their efforts. If you do, I’ll give you more then. Sorry I can’t tell you more now, but it’s over my head."
“No problem, since I know the president’s involved. Let me see what we can come up with on those two. It’s odd, but the national security adviser doesn’t get a detailed background check, nor does the press secretary. They’re given the clearances because the president puts them in the jobs and he trusts them. I’ll admit it’s not a perfect system. We’d like all people who get high-level security clearances to be checked out in detail, but that doesn’t happen on all presidential appointments.”
Mary Jean finished her coffee. “Thanks for coming. Say hello to Katie and the kids for me. I hope you enjoy your upcoming retirement.”
“I’ll be in touch, hang in there,” he said, then got up and departed. Mary Jean waited a few minutes, lost in her thoughts about what they had experienced in the Gulf War. She hadn’t thought of it in a long time. But now was not the time to reminisce. Now was the time to get the men who possessed the bomb.
She stood up, walked out of the coffee shop, and headed to SPAT, Inc. to give Matt and Bridget the president’s orders.
17
Five Days Ago — 5 P.M. — Leesburg, Virginia
Matt watched Mary Jean’s car pull up in front of the building. He saw her retrieve her briefcase and walk toward the office. Her earlier phone call had alerted him to be prepared to move. He’d told Bridget and they’d gathered their to-go gear. They both checked their ever-ready suitcases that contained the necessary items for at least a week. The carry-on kit included the weapon they’d selected after many tests, an HK USP .45 Tactical with extended barrel, threaded for sound suppression with a suppressor, an ankle holster with a Kel-Tec 380, a KA-BAR knife, a Maglite flashlight, bottled water and high-energy snacks plus clothes.
Mary Jean’s red hair flailed about in the breeze as she pushed open the office door. She’d arrived earlier than Matt had expected, and it would be more than another hour before Julia came back with Laura. Julia should be getting to Sherry’s house about now. The general had stated that she carried orders for them from the president. Something must have come up, and they were prepared to go wherever she would send them. At least Mary Jean would care for Laura and get her back to Sherry’s house after the weekend.
"Hello, General. Something must be up."
"Yes. We have reason to believe that the terrorist Yuri and his accomplice are in Savannah, Georgia," Mary Jean said. "After I brief you here, you are to go to Quantico Marine Corps base for a ride to Savannah in an Osprey 22."
"So what are we to do?" Bridget asked. She went over to the refrigerator and got out Diet cokes for all. She also unwrapped a cigar, but didn’t light it.
Mary Jean sat down at a desk and nodded at the parrot.
"Don’t worry, he won’t repeat anything you say," Bridget joked. Matt grinned and Mary Jean went along with the humor as she shed her jacket and hung it over the back of a chair.
"Okay. Here’s what we have." She relayed the conversation with the Russian attaché.
"It’s time for us to get to Savannah. Julia will be back any minute. Can you wait for her?" Matt asked.
“Of course. By the way, I borrowed this little gadget for you. It’s brand-new from the tech boys, and they say it can detect the presence of uranium up to a mile, and the residual radiation for a short time after an atomic device is moved from a location. If there is a weapon, you should hear it beep. The sound increases as you get closer to a source. As you can see, it’s only the size of a pack of cigarettes. Now, I must make some calls. If I receive any info on the exact location of our terrorists, I’ll get it to you and arrange for the local FBI to assist you in their apprehension. Capture him if you can but take no unnecessary risk. We know why he’s here, and there’s some information to be gained by interrogation, but not that much. Clear?”
"Yes, ma’am," Bridget said with enthusiasm, then picked up her backpack and the atomic detector, and headed for the door.
"Be careful," Mary Jean said.
Matt got up to get his things and the phone rang.
* * *
Julia pulled into the driveway and parked beside Matt’s car so that Laura could get into it while Julia parked Sherry’s car in the garage. She needed to return the keys and jacket. Laura got out on the passenger side, went around the BMW, and got in. Julia clicked on the remote to open the garage door. At that moment, she noticed the front door slightly ajar. Weird, she thought. A sixth sense kicked in, perhaps women’s intuition, but she felt something not right. The door would not be left ajar with this cold weather.
“Laura, you wait here.” She got out of the car, went to the front door, and pushed it open with her arm.
“Oh! Shit!” came out at the sight of the body of Sherry on the floor. Run, she told herself. No, she needed to find out if Sherry was alive. She rushed to the prone figure and felt for a pulse but found none. She shouted for Sherry’s husband. No response.
Julia looked to her left and saw what were without doubt bullet holes in the hallway. Swiftly for her size, she moved along the hall. When she reached the bedroom door, she peered inside. The shattered glass, the bloodstains by the window, and a foot caught on the sill were taken in at a glance. No shoe, only a bare foot. She figured it was useless to go outside to check on him with the number of bullet holes everywhere, but to be certain, she tiptoed to the window and stared at the bullet-ridden body.
“My God. What happened here?” Her heart pounded and her mouth became dry as her hands trembled. She tried to walk but found it difficult. She almost stopped breathing, and her mind raced ahead to what this might mean to Laura and to Matt. OMG, she thought, this is unbelievable. Holy shit. I did
n’t think anyone would do this.
She deliberately touched nothing except to press on Sherry’s neck to find a pulse. She must call the police. No. Not a smart idea. Get hold of Matt. Have to get my ass in gear and get out of here before Laura gets fidgety and comes into the house, she thought. Must go.
Julia carefully moved down the hall way and out the door without closing it for fear of leaving fingerprints. On the way in, she only pushed the door with her elbow. She walked, telling herself not to run, to the car.
"Is everything okay?" Laura asked.
“Sure, sweetie. It’s all okay. We’re going to your daddy’s now. Let me drive Sherry’s car into the garage.” She did this and wiped the steering wheel clean, then the door handle as she got out. She went inside and took the overnight bag Sherry had prepared earlier for Laura. Then she decided to go into the little girl’s bedroom, packed more clothes, put them into another suitcase, and left the house.
She stepped outside and walked to the BMW, put the gas into it, and drove out of the neighborhood at normal speed. Three minutes later, she pulled into a CVS store and told Laura she needed to buy something and to wait in the car. She entered the drugstore, tugged out her cell, and called SPAT, Inc.
Answer the damn phone, come on, she thought. Then she heard Matt on the line.
"I want you to listen. Don’t talk till I’m through," she said at breakneck speed, hoping Matt would get the meaning.
"Okay."
"Your sister-in-law has been murdered, along with her husband."
"What?" said Matt. "Where’s Laura? Is she all right?"
"Listen, damnit. Listen to me." Julia stopped for a second to compose herself. "Sorry, but this is bad, so I need to tell you everything before you ask questions."
"Go on."
Julia tried her best to relate all that had transpired in as much detail as she could. She stopped to take a breath and then asked, “What do you want me to do?”