by Trevor Scott
The Syrian man with the gun in his mouth tried to struggle free, but Jake shook his head at the man.
“Did you find the Syrian?” she asked.
Jake looked at the man beneath him and said, “Sure did. He’s a little tied up right now.”
“Are you torturing him?”
The two of them had discussed torture many times, especially since she had retired from the BND, the Federal Intelligence Service of Germany. The Germans had become much more civilized since World War II. Not quite to the level of some other European countries, but a little too close for Jake’s sentiment.
“We’re having a little discussion,” Jake finally said.
“I did solid background intel on that guy,” Alexandra said. “He’s guilty.”
Jake had no real doubt, but he liked to hear it from the source. “I believe you.” He pulled his gun out of the man’s mouth and then said to him, “My contact says you’re guilty.”
“I did nothing,” the Syrian said.
Shaking his head, Jake turned when he saw a young couple making their way into the park heading right for them. He holstered his gun and went back to the phone. “What does our friend want with me?” he asked Alexandra.
“I don’t know. He said it was urgent that you meet him tonight at your hotel.”
Jake checked the time on his phone before getting back on with Alexandra. “I can do that. Can you get our friends at the Polizei to meet me in the Tiergarten?” Jake gave her his more precise location within the expansive park. It would save her from having to track his GPS.
“I will,” she said. “Now go to meet the General. He said he’d wait for you at the bar downstairs.” Alexandra hesitated and then said, “I love you.”
Grunting, Jake said, “Same here.”
They both hung up. By now the young couple were nearly upon them.
Jake said loudly in German, “Polizei. Leave the area.” He waved his arm at the couple and they immediately turned and walked back the way they had come.
Now Jake just needed to wait for his old colleague in the Polizei anti-terrorism task force to pick up this man. Jake was making the guy look good with all the arrests recently, so he guessed the guy would be there within minutes. Then Alexandra would send their Polizei friend a detailed account implicating this Syrian in terrorist activity.
“I’m going to kill you,” the Syrian said, and then licked blood from his upper lip.
“Are you serious?” Jake asked. “Do you know who I am?”
The Syrian shook his head.
“I didn’t think so,” Jake said. Then he punched the man in the face and knocked him out. Now the guy probably had a broken eye socket to match his broken nose.
Jake got off the man and stood up, brushing any debris from his pants. As far as he could tell he only got blood on his right fist, which he wiped off on the damp grass.
Moments later and his Polizei friend showed up alone. That was their deal. Show up alone and get the bad guy, along with the intelligence. Well, most of the intel.
It took just minutes for Jake to brief the Polizei officer on the Syrian.
“He admitted his guilt?” the Polizei officer asked.
“Sure did. And be careful. The grass is a little wet with dew. Our friend slipped and landed on his face on the cobblestones. Nasty wounds.”
The Polizei officer shook his head. “Seriously? I will. Now get out of here.”
Jake patted his old friend on the shoulder and hurried back toward the south side of the park. Once he got out to the main road, he hopped onto the Metro U-Bahn and went a few stops, getting off just outside of his hotel.
He thought that they had finally gotten the last man in that cell. But taking down these people was like whack-a-mole. You knock one down and two more pop up. It would be a constant battle.
3
Jake found General Graves at the end of the hotel bar, a whiskey neat in front of him. Jake guessed it wasn’t the man’s first. Graves had been with Air Force intelligence for almost thirty years before retiring and taking on a special role with a think tank. In that capacity the General had first recruited Jake a few years ago as a consultant. Then less than six months ago things had changed. Graves had started working for the Spanish billionaire Carlos Gomez in an effort to counter the Islamic Caliphate, hiring Jake to rescue a group of Christian medical relief workers in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. Since then Jake had skipped around Europe tracking down sleeper cells, which brought him to Berlin, an area he knew well from his days in Air Force intelligence and the CIA.
Pointing to the bartender, Jake said, “Two more of these.” Then Jake took a seat next to his old Air Force friend.
“I guess Alexandra got in contact with you,” General Graves said. His disposition was subdued. The only thing that had changed on the man over the years was his flat top morphing from dark brown to a dull silver. That and he had put on a few pounds around the midsection, an almost ubiquitous result of age.
“Are you all right?” Jake asked.
Before answering, the General sucked down the last of his whiskey and set the highball glass on the bar. “Yeah, I think so. I’m getting too old for this shit.”
The bartender showed up with two more drinks and set them in front of Jake and the General.
Jake picked up his glass and took a long sip.
“You’ve got a little blood on your hand,” the General said.
“Yeah, it’s not mine.”
“Did you get the last guy?”
“I think so. At least for now.”
“Good. I need you in Tallinn.”
“What for?”
General Graves picked up his drink and downed the entire thing. Then he said, “An off-books deal.”
“They’re all off books,” Jake reminded his old friend.
“This is personal.”
“You know I’m supposed to meet my son in Tallinn next week.”
“I know. He’s working with the Estonian Internal Security Service.”
“KAPO?”
“Right.” The General hesitated.
“What’s wrong, Tom?”
“Your son, Karl, is missing.”
“What?”
Until two years ago Jake didn’t even know he had a son. His old girlfriend, CIA officer Toni Contardo, had given birth and had her sister raise Karl, never telling him about the boy. Having a family in the CIA could be dangerous for all involved, which is why Jake and Toni had decided not to be together. But now Toni was dead and Jake’s son, an Army intelligence officer, was missing.
“Afraid so.” General Graves gave Jake a quick briefing on the incident on the eastern border of Estonia and Russia.
“You think the SVR took him?” Jake asked.
“That’s what KAPO thinks,” General Graves said.
“Who’s my contact there?”
The General pointed to the bartender, indicating two more drinks. Jake guessed his old friend was delaying for some reason. He usually did that to soften the blow of bad news.
Finally, General Graves said, “The Agency is staying out of this one.”
“What about Defense?”
General Graves took a slow sip of whiskey. Then he said, “Karl was on loan to KAPO from the Army. The Agency was pretty much left out and probably feel in the dark.”
“I know NATO is building up in the Baltics,” Jake said. “But what was Karl doing there?”
“Unclear. I only found out about the incident through my Army contacts.”
None of this made much sense to Jake, but that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. With huge bureaucracies and multiple agencies, it was normal for one hand to not know what the other foot was doing.
“When did Karl get nabbed?” Jake asked.
The General shrugged and took another sip of whiskey. “It’s been twenty-four hours.”
“He could be in Moscow by now.”
General Graves shook his head. “We don’t think so. Karl was taken
by boat on a lake by Narva. KAPO reports they heard gunfire and then a major search ensued. They’re still looking.”
So, there was still hope. “I’ll leave for Estonia ASAP.” Jake got up and started to go.
“Wait. Your contact with KAPO is a man named Hans Vaino. He was working with your son. Carlos Gomez was briefed and has his jet available for your use at Tegel airport.”
Jake was starting to like working for the Spanish billionaire. “Thanks. I know this doesn’t exactly fit his definition of my job.”
“He understands family, Jake.”
General Graves gave Jake the contact information and time for the meeting.
“In Tallinn and not on the eastern border?” Jake asked.
“Vaino and his partner were recalled to Tallinn. KAPO is downplaying the incident, since it didn’t involve one of their own.”
“Great. So, they’re leaving Karl hanging?”
“Not exactly. KAPO has pulled back, but the border police in Estonia are keeping track of the search. And our military has a drone overhead.”
“I’ll need to talk with someone in the Army.”
“The Air Force is running the drone. Contact a guy named Colonel Poole in Estonia.”
“Hamari Air Base?”
“No,” the General said. “He’s working out of the Tallinn airport.”
Jake drank down the last of his whiskey. “All right. I’m out of here.”
General Graves grabbed Jake’s arm and said, “Jake, this could be bad. The Russians are looking for any reason to ramp up their incursion back into the Baltics.”
“I know, General. This could be their first step.”
“They’ve been kidnapping Estonian intel officers for the past few years, trumping up charges against them and conducting kangaroo trials in Moscow.”
“I’ve heard. I’ll take care of this.”
With that, Jake went up to his room and packed his small bag. Then he took a quick shower before heading out to catch a ride to Tegel airport.
4
Narva Reservoir, Estonia
Karl Adams huddled in the darkness among a grove of cedars, his body covered by a thick layer of moss he had collected. The past twenty-four hours had been difficult for him. Out of sheer luck he had not been shot during the confrontation with the Russians. He had not drowned as he escaped the men in the boat, diving and holding his breath whenever they came close to him, and then rising to the surface just long enough to fill his lungs with air again. In the darkness, the fog and the mist, somehow he had come ashore on the island. At first he thought he was back in Estonia, but then he had slowly made his way around the perimeter of the island within the forest in the pitch black, finding that he had escaped the men and found himself trapped on another prison.
The first night had been cold, since his clothes were wet and he had not been able to make a fire. Of course he had no matches or lighter anyway. But the smoke would have been a dead giveaway to his location. He assumed the Russians were not using any sophisticated equipment, like forward-looking infrared. A helo with FLIR would have picked up his heat signature. No, he had a feeling his Russian friends were content with using rudimentary search efforts. Which worked to his advantage.
Karl had spent the daylight hours moving through the thick forest of the island to find a better hiding spot and to think of a way out of this predicament.
Was anyone looking for him? Not likely. At least not while the Russians were still looking. Remembering his maps, he knew that this island was Russian territory. But it was just a short swim from the western shore back into Estonia. And he would have to make that swim at night.
But it was best to simply stay put and let the Russians think he had drowned or been hit by a bullet.
So, this second evening he had found a much better spot among the cedars and spruce. The moss covering would keep him warm and perhaps cut down his heat signature.
That was fine with only a steady mist, but now the rain came down much heavier. The moisture was soaking him to the bone and would soon lower his body temperature. He could live on water and bugs, but hypothermia was something he could not control.
Tallinn, Estonia
Estonian Internal Security Officer Hans Vaino was a tall man, but not awkwardly so. Although he had played basketball in his youth, that was as a point guard running a quick offense. It was in college where he was recruited into KAPO his senior year. His athletic ability had gotten him only so far in the security service, but his intellect had sustained him for the past ten years.
He sat now in a bar inside the city walls in the Old Town a block from the Viru Gates, the most prominent gate still connected to the high walls that had once enclosed the entire city.
His partner, Kadri Kask, had just gone to relieve herself after her third beer. Hans knew that she was more than capable of keeping up with him beer for beer, despite her thin but muscular structure. And they both had good reason to drink heavily this evening, considering they had allowed their American friend and colleague to be taken by those Russian bastards just twenty-four hours ago.
Whereas Hans was a little over six feet, his partner Kadri was just a couple of inches shorter. She was built more like a swimmer, since she had been one in college. Her shoulders were still strong and broad and her muscles intact after five years in the field with KAPO. Her blonde hair was straight to her shoulders and as smooth as silk. Hans called her sporty, since she seemed to excel at nearly any sport she attempted.
Kadri walked through the crowded bar now wearing a tight shirt exposing proportional round breasts, her black slacks holding firm to her butt as she strode back to their booth.
Someone said something to her and she stopped and turned to a table with two men. Both looked around college age, but with half a brain between them.
She said something to the two men and turned to leave, when one of the men reached out and pinched her ass. Kadri swiveled so fast with a back fist that the young man didn’t have a second to respond. Her fist struck the target on his right temple, knocking the man out of his chair and sprawling to the floor.
Hans was about to get up, but decided to hold his position.
The second man started to get up from his chair, but Kadri snapped a kick, hitting the man in the groin and sending him into a fetal position next to his knocked out friend.
Then Kadri simply walked back to her booth and took a seat.
“Seriously, Kadri,” Hans said. “You could have left them a little dignity.”
She let out a huff of air. “I left them their teeth. That should count for something.”
A young waitress came over with another beer for each of them. “Thank you,” the waitress said. “These are on the house. Those two have been giving me problems all night.” The waitress smiled broadly and strode across the room toward the bar.
“I think she likes you,” Hans said.
Kadri shook her head and said, “I don’t go that way. You know I like strong men. Like Karl. . .and you of course.”
Hans felt an urge deep within himself, even though he knew his partner was kidding. They had always had sexual tension between them, but that seemed to have stopped once the American came into the picture. He was pretty sure Kadri had a thing for Karl, the Army intelligence officer. Maybe that’s why she was even more disturbed that they had let the Russians take the man.
“What are we going to do now, Hans?” she asked.
“About?”
“About Karl.”
“We’ve been pulled from that.”
She took a long sip of beer and set the glass down, shaking her head. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me. But what can we do?”
“More than nothing. He was one of us.”
“The Americans will handle this,” Hans reasoned. “They’re sending someone to meet with me in the morning.”
“I want to be there.”
Hans shook his head. “They said just to meet him a
t the coffee shop across the square on Viru.”
“I will get there early and sit in the back.”
“This is an American spy. He will make you.”
“We are just as good as them.”
“Maybe at beating up stupid college students. But this has just gotten more intense.”
Kadri sipped her beer again, her eyes concentrating on the two men she had just taken down.
Hans turned and saw the man with his nuts in his throat helping his friend back to the real world. He turned back to his partner and said, “All right. Tell me again why you think Karl escaped.”
“We’ve gone over this,” she said. “The gunfire. They weren’t shooting at each other. And then the search. If they had found Karl, they wouldn’t have continued to look for him. I’m just wondering why they pulled us from the case.”
“I understand this,” he said. “The Russians have taken one too many of our officers and our boss was concerned they would take us.”
“So they retreat like little school girls?”
“We follow orders, Kadri.”
She downed the last of her beer. Then she said, “That’s the problem with our system, Hans. There is no independent thought. No originality. They could replace us with robots.”
Maybe so, Hans thought. But could they make the robots as pretty as Kadri? He doubted that.
•
Sitting outside the Tallinn bar near the Viru Gates, the older gentleman had a view of those inside the establishment across the street. He was under a tent on the sidewalk, where propane heaters kept patrons warm. Some even covered their bodies with wool blankets. But, considering the vodka on board, that wasn’t necessary with this man. He lifted his chin and waved for the young waiter to bring him another drink, which was a cup of coffee with a shot on the side. He would let his body fight out the stimulant and depressant.
His phone suddenly buzzed and he saw that it was a text with an attached video file from his associate. The young woman, who seemed like a damn dyke to him, was inside the bar by herself and couldn’t help herself. She was addicted to videos and pictures taken with her phone and her large camera. Although she played the tourist with great alacrity and verve, her constant need for his affirmation was getting annoying.
