The camera operator shot the first scene showing the rocket hitting the vehicle in the middle and destroying it, and then the second scene showing the face of the shooter: Richard Reed, CIA agent, involved in drug trafficking and one of Bouda’s lieutenants. He had killed his father fourteen years before and Mark had met him by chance in the cafeteria of the intelligence agency’s headquarters the day before his departure for Paris.
Mark let a few minutes pass. When he had recovered, he wrote a message to Pavel: “Digitrevenant69, Richard Reed is my father’s murderer, I am waiting for detailed information about him, ask the cracker to take a ride on the Mogadishu files, it will be a breeze for him once he gains access, 500 USD more.”
“Digitrevenant69, QSL, I'm sorry to reopen old wounds, what will you do?”
“I'll take care of him myself when the operation is over…too risky to disclose these images, he is surely protected.”
“I agree with you. Let me know how I may help, Digitrevenant69 QRT. Goodbye.”
“See you soon, my friend. I would like to return to Langley immediately and kill him, but right now I can't do that, and I want to learn as much as possible about him and about his protectors, QRT MK.”
Inexplicably it occurred to him that he should check on Aisha’s background.
“Let’s see if you're clean or you are part of the circus.” Mark accessed the reserved line for the database of the British services; he had taken a photo of her while she was sleeping, so an automatic search based on her physiognomy and her metrics was easy.
‘So Aisha, you are clean and the fact that your father is a diplomat is pure coincidence. But even if you're not a spy, you're too cheerful for my tastes,’ he thought with a smile. He left the room to go to basement F still shaken.
32
Fessenheim is a town located in the Haut-Rhin department of Alsace.
Gloomy and without personality, the city is dominated by the oldest French nuclear power plant, which had often been the subject of bitter controversy concerning its safety over the last five years.
Mark first checked the position of every man involved in the mission and afterwards went to his surveillance point.
He hoped that the information about the date was right and that they would not have to wait for days to get into action. He was eager to return to the U.S. and quietly take care of Reed.
Bouda and his team of saboteurs were not long in coming: they arrived after eight hours, and didn’t even have time to penetrate the center before all of them were killed by the GIGN; none of them had expected the ambush. Savannah fired the first shot. Bouda fell to the ground lifeless, hit in the head by an expanding bullet, without even the time to react.
In accordance with the instructions, Bouda’s body was left on the spot with the other bodies and Mark, abandoning the field of battle, turned for a moment and saw six men quickly taking care of the bodies and erasing all traces of their presence.
33
Two days later, at 8:00 in the morning, Savannah was back in London at the headquarters of the British Secret Intelligence Service.
Operating Unit 27 director F. Shaw was waiting for him in his office for a face-to-face meeting. The Telegraph lay on his desk in front of him.
“Hello Savannah, apparently they didn’t kick your ass in Afghanistan. I'm glad about that! My congratulations! Fast, effective and a perfect sniper! Take a look at the front page of the Telegraph: "International terrorist who provided false information about Saddam Hussein’s WMDs killed in Kabul in a firefight with British and U.S. Intelligence Services." Just as expected, perfect timing! What are you doing next week?”
“Back to the US for a holiday in New York, I’ll be visiting some friends. I want to completely disconnect for a week.”
“Be sure to get plenty of rest, you’ll need it. I want to see you in my office next Monday at 9:00 am. This time you’ll be able to choose a task that will be more to your liking.”
“Thank you, sir. Goodbye.”
Mark shook hands with the director and, as he was walking back home, he saw that Pavel had sent him a message.
He stopped and sat on a bench along the Thames and logged on to the protected line.
Pavel was offline, so he downloaded the files directly.
Richard Reed was 45 years old; he was a supervisor in the “Drug Trafficking" department of the UNODC, and at the same time he also had a diplomatic role between the CIA and ISI, a role that was very delicate and very questionable.
The ISI was in fact known to have internal rogue cells that were working for the warring factions and who were in contact with the Iranian secret services.
‘You are a greedy, double-crossing bastard Reed, and a pusher and a fucking murderer!’ Mark thought, clenching his fists.
Reed was also the son of CIA director Colonel Walton I. Reed, number three in the CIA, who despite his age was still influential and head of the Biotech Division, which dealt with the development of military and non-military projects in the nanotechnology field.
“That's the saint who’s protecting you, you bastard; some influential father developing nanotechnology for military purposes in the New Mexico desert. Who knows what Biosketch Technologies Inc. is involved in? I really would like to know more about it,” he said aloud.
As far as Mogadishu was concerned, the dossier revealed information that had never been disclosed about the Black Hawk shot down and the subsequent operations, but there was no reference to the killing of Turner C. Cooper, nor to the wounding of Andrew Davis, who was the head of squadron A of the Delta Force, aka Professor Zimmermann of the University of Buenos Aires.
“They covered up the operation and destroyed all the evidence. Reed senior, you really are a big shot!”
Mark settled accounts with Pavel and paid for the services, then he went home passing by the supermarket on the way to buy food.
He returned home and after having put the fresh food in the fridge, he remembered Elizabeth and instinctively dialed her cell phone number.
“Elizabeth?”
“Oh, hello Mark. How are you?”
“Well, thanks. And you? I was wondering if you were free tonight…we could talk calmly.”
“Thanks Mark, but I already have a commitment. It's all right. I've been thinking about everything: I don’t believe it’s worth repeating what we said before…besides I have started dating someone else.”
“You didn't waste any time, but I understand. Goodbye, Elizabeth.”
“Goodbye, Mark, have a nice evening.” They both hung up at the same time.
Savannah felt relieved. He would have seen his ex, simply because he didn’t want to end a relationship over the phone, but the fact that he had avoided a hard evening full of clichés made him feel good; after less than a month Elizabeth hadn’t left a mark on him.
34
“What’s the chance that someone could get his hands on the video where you’re firing an anti-tank rocket against one of our own military vehicles?” Colonel Reed asked his son in a bar in downtown Washington at six in the evening after the news about Bouda’s death.
“Uday told me that he had destroyed the tape and that it was the only copy.”
“And do you trust him?”
“He always kept his word, but I cannot be sure that there are no other hidden copies, and now Uday is a dead duck.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bouda told me that he was leaving for France, if he had stayed in Afghanistan I would have known about it. He told me many things, I don’t think he died in Kabul and in such trivial circumstances. It’s not like him.”
“I think you're right, but now we need to understand the extent to which our services and the British have found out about him, and in particular if there is a link of any kind that can be traced back to you and me.”
“A few days ago in the cafeteria I met a certain Jenkins and a certain Savannah, two of the anti-terrorism division operating in Europe. We were at the same table...
by any chance do you know them or do you have contact with anyone in their division? It seems strange that they were about to leave for Europe and a couple of days later Bouda, who was supposed to be in France, apparently dies in Afghanistan.”
“Yes, that's true. It's a very strange coincidence. What was Bouda doing in France?”
“I don’t know, he didn’t want to tell me about it.”
Walton I. Reed picked up his smartphone and dialed a CIA telephone number.
“Roger? Hi, it’s Walton here. I have a question for you: is there a certain Savannah and a certain Jenkins operating in Europe on your team?”
“No,” answered his contact. “The agents stationed abroad have other names and are only in Langley for a couple of weeks.”
“Thank you Roger, I owe you one. Goodbye.”
“See you on Saturday for a beer?”
“You can count on it,” replied Walton before ending the conversation and turning with a worried expression to stare at his son.
“But I cannot avoid going back to Afghanistan in five days,” said Richard. “Actually I have a meeting at the UNODC office, if I change my lifestyle now just after Uday’s death, it could arouse suspicion.”
“These two guys took the piss out of you and you fell for it. The whole thing stinks. Of course, you have to go back to Afghanistan, just to erase any traces that you may have left behind you over the years, especially men. You have to sell the laboratory to the Taliban that will not cooperate with foreigners and give them all the men you've had as subordinates.
“In the meantime, I’ll use my contacts too, so that you can come back to the U.S. and work in my division. You're a chemist, my deputy has known you since you were a teenager and Wood, the Director, depends on the info I can give him about a very hot matter that he is involved in and that I know all about,” Walton replied, grinning.
“Yes, I will do as you say. See you around, dad, this time I’ll let you buy the drinks. I'll call to say goodbye before I leave.”
The two agents stood up and hugged each other, then went home.
35
Mark landed in New York and passed through the customs under the name Savannah. He had the documents of his new alias for this trip, and a large amount of cash so he could avoid being traced through his using credit cards for expenses and transportation services. There would be no tickets in his name, except for the return flight under the name Savannah.
He had also shielded his smartphone with software developed by Pavel that blocked attempts to detect his position by satellite.
He was ready and determined; his demon did not give him a moment's respite, tormenting him like a disease.
He intended to go into action late the next day when Richard Reed was returning to Washington from CIA headquarters, with a swift, simple, yet discreet move.
Mark took a room in a hotel near Central Park, he paid in advance with cash under the name of William Smith. He went to his room and did not move from there until the next morning, when he left the hotel to go to Penn Station beneath Madison Square Garden, where trains departed for Washington DC.
At 6:30 am, far from the gaze of security cameras, Mark Savannah, code named Lisunov Li-2, was waiting for his father’s murderer around the corner of a building that looked out onto a dark and narrow street that he had cased a few hours beforehand and that Reed would be forced to cross.
When Savannah saw him coming, he acted quickly, cutting Reed’s throat with a knife so quickly that he did not even utter a sound; then Savannah made it look like a mugging and threw the murder weapon in a manhole five blocks away from the murder scene.
The lifeless body of Richard Reed was found by a madly barking dog that pulled his master to the spot. At 8:00 am Colonel Walton I. Reed was informed of the murder of his son at CIA headquarters.
Savannah immediately left Washington for New York; he felt that the fact he had terminated Reed had simply been his duty, but he was left unsatisfied and his demon, though it had calmed down, remained burning quietly but intently within. It wasn’t over, not yet.
It was already late when he arrived in New York. He stopped to sleep in the first hotel with a room available near Madison Square Garden, again paying in advance in cash for another two nights under the alias Smith. He could not immediately return to London because he might arouse suspicion, but he would still be departing one day early at the last minute from the airport to make his exit from the country even harder to predict.
Mark knew that they would discover the body quickly, and that Colonel Reed would immediately activate his network to find his son’s killer.
36
“This was not the work of a mugger, Roger,” Walton I. Reed said to his best friend while he was drinking his third bourbon in a bar at Langley. “Trust me, this was a professional job; the pathologist found an extremely violent and precise stab wound that only a trained military man could have made. Richard didn’t have time to breathe, he was killed instantly, suffocated by his own blood and never felt a thing.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“In our business we always have suspects. Do you remember Jenkins and Savannah? The two agents who spoke with Richard in the cafeteria and lied.”
“Could you repeat that second name, please?”
“Savannah...”
“Walton, do you know that Savannah is considered one of the best new British agents?”
“Really? Please, tell me about him.”
“They say he caught Uday Bouda, and that he has been following in his father's footsteps.”
“Go on. What else do you know?”
“There are rumors that he is the son of a former American agent and that he has friends in high places. But you know, some of our guys were assigned to help the British and as a result there was a lot of gossip and loose talk about the place…that shouldn’t happen in our organization. The rumors turned out to be a bunch of crap, so I’d take them with a grain of salt. Why should Savannah be involved with Richard? Just because they were in Afghanistan at the same time?”
“Well, in fact, there is no evidence. “
“UNODC has publicly mentioned Richard's help in the fight against drug trafficking, and they did it during the international meeting. You should be proud of your boy. Most likely he stepped on too many toes over there, most of the drug traffickers are former mujahideen trained in guerrilla warfare and, among other things, need I remind you that we trained them?”
“But why kill him in the U.S. and not wait for him to return to Afghanistan?” Col. Reed wondered aloud.
“Richard was well known and had bodyguards that he paid personally; they would have arranged a large-scale ambush that would never have gone unnoticed. Everyone knows everything about everyone over there, and it takes nothing to bribe a person and to screw up a secret that has been protected for years. Here, on the other hand, it is a breeze to slaughter someone at night on a dark and deserted corner.”
“That's true, I guess. A Detective Scott Martin took over the investigation. Do you know him?”
“Scott is an extraordinary detective. He will catch Richard’s killer, you can bet on it, Walton.”
“Can you give me a ride home? I've drunk far too much. I’ll pay for this.”
37
At 9:00 in the morning Colonel Reed had the video of the meeting between Richard Jenkins and Savannah, and he had already received a reply about which of the two men was Savannah; in fact, he had Savannah’s entire dossier from the British Secret Intelligence Service.
Jenkins was part of the Counterintelligence Division of US Intelligence and had been active for about a year, and now Reed also knew about the infectious diseases he had contracted as a child.
Reed did not believe in coincidences, and if Bouda had been connected to Richard for more than fifteen years and Savannah had actually eliminated Bouda, he would find clues, if not actual evidence, about their partnership. For this reason, he would continue searching for information on
Savannah.
“Jago? Good morning. Better, thanks. Yes, I will be back at Biosketch Technologies tomorrow, but I need your help; I’m sending you a picture of Mark Savannah, a British agent. Try to find out about his last mission and who his father was. See you tomorrow.”
Reed was always a man of few words, accustomed to command, he never left room for debate. He immediately sent the data to Jago C. Green. He had caught Jago C. Green fifteen years earlier during an operation concerning industrial espionage and a government-owned biotech company; he was considered the best western hacker at the time and so Reed did not prosecute him but hired him to work on the "Transtem 1.1" and "Brainexe" projects for the CIA. He had shown great foresight given the results up to that time. Since then, Green had become his lieutenant.
It was no problem for him to browse the archives of the CIA without being detected or leaving any clues that he had been there. It was not necessary at this stage to go snooping around British archives: the operation had been managed jointly by the two intelligence services and there would definitely be a dossier on the operation in Afghanistan at Langley.
Then the Colonel gave two of his agents orders to go to JFK airport because the name Savannah was included on the passenger lists of British Airways flights departing for London. They were told to stop him and take him into custody.
Reed knew that Savannah had entered the U.S. a day before his son’s murder and that officially he was in the U.S. on a one-week vacation, which is why he was using his own name and not an alias.
Finally, he asked Green to monitor the photos taken by the cameras at airports with flights from New York to London in case Savannah did not show up on the scheduled day, and tried instead to return to UK in the next few days.
Black Hawk Day Rewind: An action packed spy thriller (Mark Savannah Espionage Series Book 1) Page 8
