"And we believe this woman might be our Vienna mystery woman?"
"We do."
"Why is that?" Broley picked up the photo and brought it close.
Abbie sighed. "The database has three images from Vienna that were captured during the time of that operation, when our mysterious subject moved on the German. This image evidently has a very high match rate to those images."
Broley lowered the photo and moved the readers from his nose so he could rub the bridge of his nose. "Computers doing our work for us."
"That's what they're good for. Facial recognition only knows bits and bytes. It isn't fooled by wigs and glasses and makeup. The human eye and memory can be quite erroneous."
Broley turned to Abbie. "And how did we come by this image all the way from Spain?"
"It was collected and cataloged by Interpol. Came to us via an NSA exchange policy with Interpol on behalf of the FBI." Abbie smiled.
"So many acronyms." Broley smiled back.
Chapter 27
"You understand what you are saying." A statement.
A nod of the head was the reply.
Seibel looked away. A guy was working a backhoe across the field. Digging a new hole for a soon-to-arrive permanent resident of Cedar Lawn Memorial Park in Hagerstown, Maryland.
He turned back to the gentleman sharing the bench with him and tried again. "You do know what this means, correct?"
He got a verbal reply this time. "I do. I know exactly what this means for you, for him, for a good many people."
"And you couldn't head this off? Make it go away." Seibel sighed the words. "Everything going and kicking into gear and now this. I think tragic is the word."
"Nothing has happened yet. And, if we're careful in how we handle this, no one has to be hurt."
That brought a chuckle from Seibel. He turned back away from the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency to watch the backhoe pull out another shovel full of rocky earth, making space for an ornate wooden casket to be dropped in. "Broley. Guy never gives up."
"Never." DCIA watched the backhoe as well.
"I can ask you and you can give me your most committed assurance that Broley discussed this with no one other than you, but we both know that does not offer the comfort either of us requires. Hence our pleasant meeting here today." Seibel brought a gloved hand up to rub the grey stubble on his chin. "When did he come to you?"
"Three days ago. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. I contacted you that evening."
"Yes. Thank you for acting so quickly."
The CIA director wasn't wearing gloves so he brought his cupped hands up to his mouth and blew in. He was a good man, smart, intuitive, strategic. But he was never a field resource. He would be wearing gloves if he had been, regardless of the upper 30s temperature. "That's our agreement. This is one of those specific items on the list that require immediate action."
"Yes, indeed." Seibel turned back to him. "So, the details again please."
DCI cleared his throat. "Broley came to my office three days ago to share a development with an audit he has been working for sometime, years I believe. He produced a still photo taken from a video captured two weeks ago in Spain, Zaragoza to be specific."
Seibel nodded along. "Okay, and the still image from the video is her?"
"Yes."
"You're certain?"
"Evidently, Broley had seven images he gathered over the past four years working this particular case. She was the mystery female operative from Vienna and Prague and Paris and Trieste. All operations linked to KGB and Smelinsky. She was the through line he honed in on to piece them together."
Seibel nodded some more. His lips pursed. The 'her' he referenced a moment ago was Marta. Not good.
"But that's not all." The tone in which the CIA director said the words was eerie, almost frightened.
"There's more." Not a question from Seibel.
"I'm afraid so. I'll ask that you stay calm and listen to this next part without reacting." A strange thing to say.
Seibel brought his eyes up from the ground and peered into his former boss's eyes. "Go ahead."
"In the photo, the subject, Marta..."
"Yes?"
"She carried a child in her arms. A girl. Best guess, three years old."
Silence.
Seibel closed his eyes and stayed quiet for 30 seconds. "You have a copy of the photo with you?"
"I do."
"It's been through facial recognition?"
"It has."
"Match rate?"
DCIA sighed. "Ninety-two percent."
Seibel knew the limitations on facial recog software. He also knew that anything above 70 percent was seldom wrong. Ninety-two percent might have well been a 1000 percent match. Where humans can be fooled by emotion and light and blur and doubt, computer software knows only numbers.
"Can I see it?" Seibel asked.
"You're sure you want to?"
"I am. I appreciate your concerns and understand your trepidation. All very well warranted indeed." Seibel smiled. "I'd like to see it."
DCI turned away for a few moments before turning back to Seibel. "Geoffrey, you were and still are among the greatest assets this country has ever known. What you have done for this nation will never be fully appreciated."
Seibel raised his hand.
"Let me finish." The CIA director raised his hand. "Those very few who know what you've done are grateful. The resources you marshaled and deployed are still in place today. The team of professionals you assembled over the decades was unmatched and most of it still in place. Absolutely incredible stuff."
"Thank you. I appreciate what you are doing..."
"I'm not done." DCI was insistent. "But the resources you assembled are also, by nature and need, the most dangerous in the world. Deadly. And the little I know, am allowed to know about this Marta, scares the hell out of me. She was supposed to be erased from all records along with her operations, correct?"
Seibel nodded. "Yes, she was."
"Didn't quite happen."
"No. It obviously didn't." Seibel lifted his head and took a deep breath. "I have my suspicions. And unfortunately, I believe my greatest mistake is playing a role in this."
"Braden?"
Seibel nodded. "He knew that planting hidden gems about my crowning achievements would eventually surface. I truly believe he is at work here, and his brilliance will undoubtedly show up again when surprising details are mysteriously discovered about our wonder boy."
"I want you to understand that I am fully aware that this stuff, this photo, Broley's work, is radioactive. This is enriched plutonium level stuff here. Nothing more dangerous. If anyone else learns of this, people will die." DCI lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned closer to Seibel.
The spymaster in exile whispered, "I understand. If this photo you are so hesitant to share shows what you say it does, I fear for others' lives. Now please, let me see it."
The director dropped his head in resignation. He reached inside his overcoat and into a pocket. He pulled out a photo print and handed it to Seibel.
Now, sitting there in the middle of cemetery in rural Hagerstown, Maryland is a fairly isolated place. But one who knows better still feels uneasy. Seibel knew better than anyone the risks one takes in this business, in this life, in this world. He didn't even look at the photo. Didn't need to. He knew the score. His time was borrowed. No problem.
But.
Seibel kept the photo face down as he turned to DCI. "Answer your phone."
The Director of Central Intelligence furrowed his brow. "What?"
"Your phone is ringing. It's on vibrate. Answer it."
"That's ok. I'll call them back."
Seibel leaned forward, elbows on knees, looked down at the ground. "It's your wife."
DCI furrowed his brow and reached into the outside pocket of his overcoat and pulled out his cell phone to answer it. "Honey, what's up?" He stood up and took a few steps away. "I'm fine. I'm in
a meeting. Yes, everything is fine. I'll be home at the normal time. Ok. Yes. I will. Love you."
He walked slowly back over to the bench but didn't sit. He just stood and waited. Thing was, Seibel wasn't in any hurry. He could wait him out.
"Evidently she got a call from someone at the agency who told her I couldn't be reached. Really got her worried." DCI stepped over in front of Seibel. "Guessing you probably know something about that call."
Seibel kept his head down. "The three snipers you brought with you have been disarmed."
The director turned around and looked out at a hillside. No one there. He didn't turn to the other two locations. No need.
"You shouldn't have made that call."
"What?"
Seibel finally looked up.
"What call?" DCI asked.
"You know."
"I called you."
"Before you called me, you made a call to an unlisted number. You left a message."
DCIA threw his arms up. "Where are you getting this from? I only called you, as requested. As agreed."
"Answer your phone." Seibel nodded to the device in his left hand.
The director brought the phone up. Right on cue, it vibrated in his hand. He looked at the screen and pressed the answer button. From the phone's speaker, the director's voice could be heard. "The subject, the source of your interest, has been located. Zaragoza, Spain. Two weeks ago."
The Director of Central Intelligence pressed the red hang up button. He turned away. He dropped his head and slowly shook it back and forth. "I never understood your interest in that Russian asset. Your rules on the kid are understandable. A huge investment there with great returns. But the girl, I just don't get it."
"I asked for a few simple favors. Key among them were these two assets. They were to be erased, completely removed from all records. And if anything was ever discovered, I was to be contacted. Only me. And if I was not available or no longer breathing, Wyrick. Simple."
DCI kept his back to Seibel.
"And yet, here we have a message left on what you believed to be a clean KGB phone line." Seibel sat back against the bench. "You obviously had some side agreement, most likely with Smelinsky. If the woman was ever located, you were to reach out to him and pass along any information. Quid pro quo."
"It was an agreement put in place years ago. All indications were that you were aware of it. I thought you made the deal with him."
"Why would I do that? Doesn't make any sense." Seibel stared at the back of the man's head. "You had your reasons, I understand. But an agreement is an agreement. I kept up my end."
The director finally turned around. "I can't believe I didn't see it before. Right there in front of my eyes."
Seibel smiled. "What's that?"
"The girl, Marta. She was ours wasn't she? All those operations we were working to track her, to find her identity. It was all misdirection." He just shook his head. "And, of course..."
"Yes?"
"They are connected."
"They?"
"Marta and our wonder boy. Nothing ever tied them together in any field operations. But they are connected, by you."
"I think you are seeing things that aren't there. And I think you are diving into waters better left to the fish and other very scary things that lurk below."
"Not like you to make threats."
"Not like me at all. Never my M.O." Seibel crossed his leg. "Probably wondering what happens now."
"I'm really hoping it doesn't involve me dying. At least, no begging for my life, please."
Seibel let that hang in the air as he sat quietly for 30 seconds and then a minute. DCI finally turned and sat down beside him.
The director of the nation's primary foreign intelligence organization knew his time was over. "What do I need to do?"
"We all make mistakes. I've made too many to count. But, some mistakes have such serious repercussions recovery is nearly impossible. I'm afraid this is one of those." Seibel was emotionless. Matter of fact.
DCI was near that point, the point of breaking, falling. It was in his eyes. "What do I need to do here?"
"Why do you think you are here?" Seibel asked.
The director sighed. "I came here to meet you, as I agreed to do."
"No. You came here thinking you would finally take care of a problem. You saw the photo brought to you by Broley as the opportunity to take care of this Seibel problem that has been nagging at you for years, at the agency for decades." Seibel raised his eyebrows and nodded. "I totally get it. You took your shot, well... almost. You haven't pulled that gun strapped to your side. Completely unnatural for you to carry."
Seibel stood up and bent to stretch his back. "I don't hold anything against you for trying. No, I give you credit for moving so quickly. You pulled together a sharp team, sent a small crew for Wyrick. Sent out that coded message for Fuchs to come in. You even broke that most sacred of glass boxes and reached across enemy lines to Smelinsky."
Seibel looked out into the distance. He knew that out there in the trees, on a hillside and behind an abandoned barn, three snipers lay dead. They came here to do a job for one of the most powerful men in the country. Now, they will never return home to wives and families. Fuchs and Wyrick dispatched the tree talented killers before the DCIA arrived at the cemetery. No loose ends.
The spymaster turned back to his former boss. "So, let me ask you one last time, why are you here?"
He cracked. It started with a sniffle, followed by watery eyes, then a little coughing. "I'm sorry. I am."
"Wrong, wrong. You're not here to apologize. Just like I'm not here to make speeches. You sir, are here to use that gun you brought with you." Seibel nodded again and began to turn away.
"No, please."
Seibel raised his right hand. "What you do next is for your country; for your family. You are in a beautiful place of peace and rest and quiet. You were able to speak to your wife one last time, to tell her you love her. Most don't get that chance." Seibel turned and walked away.
Chapter 28
"Why did you join the Central Intelligence Agency?"
They were hiking a low ridge in the hills of the Shenandoah National Park outside of Charlottesville, Virginia. Three weeks passed since New York. Cold out today. The high was only going to reach 40. A light mist made it feel ten degrees cooler.
Abbie trekked up a gentle hillside a few paces ahead of Preacher. She hadn't spoken ten words since they met at the trailhead an hour earlier.
Truth be told, and it isn't often told by Lance Priest, he preferred the silence. His favorite times are those spent hiking hillsides and mountain trails in the Colorado Rockies significantly steeper and higher than this one. But any trail on any mountain will do.
He was fine with the quiet, up to a point. Needed to get a few things straight with Abbie before moving to the next phase of her training.
"I can tell you why you joined if you'd like."
She shook her head and replied after a couple of cleansing sighs. "You seem to know everything about me. Go ahead."
"It was your uncle dying."
"My uncle died when I was 16. Had nothing to do with joining the CIA more than ten years later."
"You were close. He was there after your parents divorced. Your father moved on to a new family. Your uncle was around, at least as often as his job would allow. He really helped your mother, especially with the problems she dealt with." Preacher worked to not keep his footsteps in rhythm with the Men At Work song playing in his head. He squeezed his thumb against forefinger to match the tempo.
Abbie ignored the mention of her mother. "I didn't know much about his job." She kept facing forward, up the trail. In general, she was pleased he let her pick the place to meet. She could have said Baltimore or Philadelphia or Las Vegas for that matter. His message said she could choose. These trails outside Charlottesville were her favorite pastime when not studying her rear off at UVA Law. Hiking these hills allowed her to clear her head
so she could let in more knowledge gained from reading law textbooks each and every day and night.
"You knew he was a spy."
"I have no idea how you found that. I told very few people about him. Almost no one. Yet, here you are with information about me that no one knows." She shook her head.
He watched her shake her head and kick a small rock off the trail with her boot. Couldn't tell if she was pissed or just annoyed. He smiled.
"Not trying to tick you off here, although I know we're way past that." Preacher tried to lighten things up a little. "No doubt you've wanted to kick me in the privates a few times since New York. Totally understand."
Abbie stopped and turned around. "You totally understand? Really?"
Preacher raised his eyebrows. "I do."
"I'm a fool. I know. I thought you liked me, maybe liked me a lot and we were going to the big city for a nice couple of nights away together to maybe take this thing to the next level. But instead, I get to see five heads drilled with holes and exploding out the back. Totally easy to understand."
"What I understand is being placed in a situation 100 percent out of your control and having to adjust, to adapt with absolutely no warning." Preacher stayed back eight feet from her. "And then you had to go back to work and your normal life the next Monday."
"I asked you 'why' in New York. You told me nothing. You made it clear I was to keep my mouth shut and tell no one. I've not told anyone. Not a soul. Not a word."
"I told you I would tell you why when you're ready."
She shook her head. "I'm ready. Come on."
"We'll see."
He dipped his shoulder and swung the backpack around from his back and set it on the dirt. He unzipped one of the many pouches and reached in. He extracted one and then a second handgun. Without looking up, he tossed the first one to Abbie. She caught with a slight whimper while stepping back.
"Christ."
"He won't be able to help you."
The blood drained from Abbie's face as Preacher stood back up. He held the other gun in his gloved right hand. And it was pointed at Abbie. Aimed right between her eyes.
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