by Geri Krotow
“Vadim, the human trafficker?”
“Yes. He’s out of commission of course, locked up for good. But his son evaded any charges.”
“Why would Ivanov want to talk to the son of a man who blew it in ROC’s eyes?”
“They’re both desperate and want an in with ROC. Mishka’s probably looking to get back in with ROC, which will be nearly impossible after his father’s incarceration. Especially with the subsequent dismantlement of Vadim’s human trafficking ring. Ivanov’s disenfranchised himself with most of the ROC hierarchy since he let Markova steal his funds. He’ll do anything to get back in.”
“But?” He knew his boss, and her determined tone indicated she was fitting some of the jigsaw pieces together.
She sighed over the connection. “But is right—Markova is our but. She’s beyond intelligent, and combined with her KGB training decades ago, there’s a good chance we didn’t recover information on all of Ivanov’s accounts that she stole.”
He whistled. “Meaning Ivanov might have resources to take over his gangs again and get East Coast ROC back on its feet.”
“Precisely.”
“Crap, boss, that’s a blow. I thought I was coming into Silver Valley to bring Ivanov in.” Markova was a given if they got Ivanov, he’d figured. Not so much now.
“As we know, there are no coincidences with ROC. Ivanov hasn’t kept Markova alive without very good reason.”
“When was the last sighting?”
“This morning, at a rest stop outside of West Virginia.”
“And last week was Tennessee. They’re coming back to roost.” Why else would two known head honchos of a criminal syndicate risk coming back to the scene of their biggest crimes?
“That’s my conclusion, too. It appears Ivanov is going to attempt a meeting with the remaining ROC skeletal crew, which we have to prevent.”
“If he reestablishes himself as the kingpin, the East Coast ROC will spread like wildfire again.” Luther’s chest tightened at the thought of losing all the ground they’d gained. ROC was operating on a thread at the moment, and so close to being destroyed on the East Coast. Finally.
“You and I have the same conclusion as several of our analysts.” Claudia’s frustration matched his, probably more, since she’d overseen not only all the undercover operations against ROC and countless other criminal groups through the world, but was responsible for intelligence collection that only the shadow organization could conduct.
Trail Hikers employed a large contingent of intelligence and communications experts. Many were regular civilians who held down average jobs as their cover, living and working in Silver Valley and the surrounding Harrisburg area. But on days off, evenings and weekends, they sacrificed their time and in some instances risked their lives to help bring in the worst kind of terrorists and other criminals.
“If your analysts concur, then we’re on to something. Where do you want me to go, ma’am?” Claudia kept things on the informal side with her agents, but Luther could get only so chill with the retired two-star US Marine Corps General.
“Keep the plan we’ve already established. Get settled, learn the area. There’s a few days, maybe a week, before you have to head into the woods with the comms expert. You’ll meet her tomorrow, at the police department.”
“Roger.”
“I want you to know that she’s been through a lot to get to this point, and we’re fortunate she’s agreed to work for us. She’s been through a tremendous ordeal and is still climbing out of ground zero from injuries suffered while living with an abusive husband, an ROC operative.”
“Copy that, Claudia.” No one got to work with TH without being tested in fire. He appreciated his boss’s willingness to cut him in, so that he could be best prepared to meet the comms person.
“And Luther?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“It’s good to hear you sounding yourself again.”
Heat rushed from his chest to his face. He’d only talked to Claudia once during the mission debrief about his op, where the woman he’d invested too much in had been killed. He knew the Trail Hikers staff psychiatrist and psychologist had spoken to her, too, as he’d given them permission to share whatever they needed to, to prove he was okay and ready to get back in the game.
“It’s...it’s good to be back.” What more could he say but the truth?
“Safe travels, Luther.” Claudia disconnected, and he was left with his thoughts. He purposefully refused to enter the dark passages in his brain that took him back to the day when he’d found out his lover was a liar and a cheat, committing the worst betrayal the entire time they’d been together. He’d witnessed her murder that same day.
Nope, not going there.
It helped to have a high stakes op to center his thoughts. Ivanov and Markova, the former FSB agent-turned-ROC operative, were as high as it got. Add in that Markova had been trained by FSB’s precursor, the KGB, and the danger couldn’t be much worse.
No way in any scenario was Ivanov going to come in easily, or quietly. There was always a chance the man would kill himself before allowing law enforcement a chance to arrest him and interrogate him for the last remaining details of his operations.
Luther wanted to get all of the heroin, fentanyl and meth that Ivanov had trafficked to this country off the streets, permanently. They’d already stopped most of the human trafficking, or at least it had moved out of Central PA and on to the West Coast. It was like herding felines but at least the LEAs were beginning to run the show when it came to ROC.
Except Markova—she was the unknown. Not that they didn’t know her capabilities. Luther had spent a full week reading the files on the woman who’d been at the top of her game as a Russian FSB agent and basically defected to ROC and won her way to the States. Markova had been trained by the best former Soviet KGB operatives. She was deadly with a capital D. And now she’d manipulated Ivanov, had him eating out of her palm if what he, Claudia, and dozens of analysts believed to be possible and true. Even though Ivanov had taken Markova with him unwillingly, according to the intel reports, there was no way she’d still be with him unless there was something in it for her.
Markova wanted to be the next ROC kingpin, Luther was fairly certain.
Luther tried to relax in the leather seat of his Jeep as he turned onto Interstate 81 and continued to close the distance to Silver Valley. It might be his last time to think alone, if previous anti-ROC ops were any measure. But when bitter memories of his last, disastrous op flooded his mind, he wished he were already fighting Ivanov, one-on-one. That last op-gone-bad in New York had resulted in the woman he’d foolishly trusted being murdered in cold blood before him. Images of her cruel death still clung to the recesses of his mind. It was like the groundhog game at the State fair. Just when he thought he’d cleared them, another popped up.
Your job is to bring in Ivanov.
Keeping the focus on Ivanov and Markova went a long way to helping Luther remain in the present, and sane.
Also accepting he’d be single for the rest of his undercover agent career, if not for his entire life made jobs like this so much easier. He wouldn’t have the weight of someone he cared deeply about hanging around his neck.
* * *
“Thanks for meeting me.” Kit smiled at Annie Fiero, the SVPD police psychologist. Also the part-time manager at Annie’s grandmother’s yarn shop, where they’d met while Kit was still with her ex, Annie was Kit’s most trusted confidante. They sat in front of the gas insert fireplace at their favorite Silver Valley coffee shop, located on the medium-size town’s historical Main Street. The Harrisburg suburb enjoyed the benefits of small-town living with access to most big-city resources. Kit had thought she’d leave Silver Valley at the first chance, after being brought here against her will nine years ago. But the community had embraced her in unexpected ways these last couple
of years, and she’d decided to stay for now. It felt like home.
“No, thank you for suggesting this.” Annie stretched, her burnt orange turtleneck coordinating perfectly with her tights. “We can’t have real girl talk at the station, and Josh is home more nights than not.”
“No, we can’t.” Kit sipped her Earl Grey steamer, known locally as a London Fog, and let herself relax. She loved her job at Silver Valley Police Department, where she worked as an analyst and language expert. But having a quiet break from the heavy pace was priceless.
“What’s going on, Kit?” Annie’s sharp gaze reminded Kit that her best friend, a police psychologist, was at heart a therapist.
“You can’t help yourself from seeing how everyone else is doing, can you?”
“Nope. Just ask Josh. I drive him crazy. When he got off his shift last night, I practically grilled him for any evidence that he was having the start of PTSD.”
“Has something happened I should be aware of?” As an unsworn member of SVPD, Kit was still involved in very deep undercover work and dangerous missions, but she wasn’t always in on the latest operations.
“No, nothing that you don’t already know. ROC.” Annie made an ugly grimace as she uttered the acronym.
Kit nodded. “We’re not going to get a break until Dima Ivanov and Ludmilla Markova are captured.”
“Don’t you think it’s fitting, in a way, that LEA has been so focused on taking down Ivanov these past couple of years, and now, as we’re closer than ever, Ludmilla Markova is just as much of a threat?”
“You mean a woman? Yeah, it’s poetic, for sure. ROC doesn’t value women, except for as commodities in the sex market.” Kit knew firsthand, as she’d been forced into an underage marriage right after falling for an au pair scheme that originally brought her to the States.
“Let’s talk about you, Kit.” Annie stirred her caramel latte, her brows knit together. “You’ve been a little more antsy than I’ve seen you in quite a while.”
Kit sent up a silent prayer of thanks for this woman sitting across from her. Annie had not only helped her escape an abusive, forced marriage, she’d seen to it that Kit received the best medical support available to help her heal from the extensive trauma she’d received at the hands of her abusive ex.
“I have the feeling I’m being watched again. And before you ask if I’m still going to my group therapy sessions, or if I’ve stopped doing any of the self-care practices that got me better in the first place, the answer is yes on the therapy and no, I haven’t let go of my meditation. I feel stronger than ever, and further from the woman I was when we met.”
“Okay. What triggered these feelings?”
“It’s not a ‘trigger’ event, Annie. I mean it. If someone were following or watching you, how would you feel?”
“I’d get that itch at the back of my neck, maybe a clench of fear in my gut. If I’m really in danger and see it, I feel a wash of cold run down my insides—probably the adrenal rush.”
“Exactly. That’s how my anxiety attacks have presented—as if there’s real danger, but there isn’t, of course. This isn’t the same.” Kit got tired of having to prove she was healing, getting stronger all the time, but she didn’t resent it. More than anyone else, she understood that PTSD and her resulting anxiety and depression could rear their ugly heads at any time. It was a blessing to have the knowledge and self-awareness she’d learned through years of therapy. A double gift was having a friend like Annie, who’d never hesitate to let her know if they saw something change in her behavior that she’d missed.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t put my finger on it. That’s how I know it’s not something triggering me. It’s random—I think I saw the same car following me after work, three days in a row. But I can’t prove anything—I haven’t even caught a good look at the plates. Then there are the odd times I’m at the grocery store and I swear there’s a guy who sits at the bakery counter, near their little coffee shop—you know where I mean?—who just happens to be there when I walk in. I don’t buy my food at the same exact time or day each week.”
“He could be a regular, someone who’s there every day.”
“True. It’s just that I know a regular when I see one.” She motioned to the front room of the coffee shop, where a group of men sat, laughing and watching the muted television screen. “They’re locals. I don’t know any of them personally, but I can tell. And I know they’re safe.”
“You do have a good instinct for safety.” Annie validated that Kit hadn’t lost her sense of self permanently in her marriage to an ROC operative. “Could it be Vadim’s son?”
Annie asked about Mishka, Kit’s ex’s son, who was closer to her age than Vadim. Kit had confided in Annie about how Mishka had made overt passes at her while she was still living with and married to Vadim, his own father. Mishka was an only child, who’d been spoiled by his criminal father.
“I’ve been wondering if Mishka’s put his men on me. When he didn’t go to jail last year, with Vadim, I was worried I’d see him sooner than later. But he’s left me alone. I’d hoped changing my last name and getting a new life, completely different from the circles ROC runs in, made a difference. But now...”
“My suggestion is to let Colt know tomorrow at work and tell him to inform Claudia.” Annie referred to their boss, Silver Valley Chief of Police, Colt Todd. He and Claudia made a formidable team, between SVPD and TH. Kit and Annie worked for both, depending upon the law enforcement needs of the area. Their jobs with SVPD were public knowledge, unlike any work they did with TH.
“But what do I tell Colt? I told you I don’t even have the license tag numbers. He’ll think I’m losing it again.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. He’s not like that. Colt understands more than anyone that mental health isn’t a moral imperative. He might have concerns that you’re not feeling as strong as you’ve been—just tell him what you told me. It might end up being nothing, but haven’t we all learned that there are no coincidences when it comes to ROC?” Annie’s brows raised and her expression reflected what Kit knew. ROC wouldn’t leave Silver Valley or abandon its grip on East Coast heroin distribution without one last big fight.
“I’d put my sanity on the fact ROC is too busy staying alive to come after me.” Kit had provided the needed intelligence and then testimony to put her ex behind bars for the rest of his quality years. “But after living with Vadim and seeing them from the inside, I know they live for revenge. It’s very important to them to leave no enemy behind.”
“And that’s why you need to tell Colt.” Annie looked at her phone. “I should let you go. We both have to report in early tomorrow.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” They stood and Kit hugged her friend.
“You’re amazing, Kit. A force of nature.” Annie pulled back and grabbed her bag. “I’ll see you in the a.m.”
“Good night.”
Kit took her time gathering her few items, needing an extra moment to herself. Annie always helped her feel more grounded, stronger. Which was why Annie’s acknowledgment that she might be on to something with her sense of being watched set off an alarm in Kit.
Silver Valley fought a war with ROC as the illicit organization gasped its last breaths, with Kit stuck in the middle of it all.
Chapter 2
Luther looked around the small flat the next morning as he sipped coffee. This was going to be his home until he completed what he’d been working on for the last three years of his FBI career and the first two years of undercover ops with Trail Hikers. He’d managed to set up state-of-the-art surveillance equipment in a matter of an hour last night, turning the humble apartment into a fortress.
Normally posted to Manhattan, he was grateful he’d been able to convince his boss and Trail Hikers Director Claudia Michele to let him participate in the culmination of nonstop tactical and strategic operation
s against ROC. Since the remaining ROC hierarchy had continued to use Central Pennsylvania as the East Coast logistical headquarters for heroin distribution, there had been an uptick again in overdoses and drug-related crime. Even with the government seizure of billions of dollars of Ivanov’s offshore accounts, the weakened infrastructure continued to run. As Claudia and he agreed in their conversation last evening, if Ivanov regained control of ROC it would be disastrous for millions of innocent civilians and a huge blow to LEA who’d sacrificed so many man-hours, and sadly, lives, to the cause.
It became increasingly difficult for him to track Ivanov’s movements from afar, since the shamed former head honcho remained on the run. Which landed him here in Silver Valley, Pennsylvania. The picturesque town wasn’t far from the banks of the Susquehanna and he could almost convince himself that he was on vacation with such beautiful surroundings. Except for the body armor, two handguns and blade he was attaching to his body in various holsters. He kept an impressive arsenal even for a former FBI special agent, all courtesy of Trail Hikers. ROC was a formidable opponent, and there were precious few agents left with the training he had, combined with the knowledge of years of intelligence work in the field. Luther had to be prepared to engage ROC henchmen at any moment, as he had done before in the unrelenting fight between law enforcement and the criminal adversary.
He left the tiny second floor apartment out a back door after making sure all his locks and sensors were set. If anyone broke into the apartment, an app on his phone would immediately alert him. As he quickly descended the wrought iron fire stairs he scanned the back parking lot that opened onto an access road behind Main Street. There were few people visible, and little traffic. The sun was still low on the horizon, and it was just past six in the morning.
Crisp and clear air promised spring in the Cumberland Valley, edging out the frigid winter. New York City was definitely milder in climate, but Luther had been raised in Maine, where he’d learned to adapt to the four seasons as easily as he became adept at hiking since a young age.
