by Trevor Scott
Having memorized the brief report, Zaiga slid the paper back to her boss. “This is disturbing,” she said. “The Americans are here to help us keep the Russians from invading our borders.”
Oskars Liepa put his hands together as if praying and touched the fingers to his lips. “True. Perhaps they didn’t know this man was American.”
“Either way, they are not going to be happy,” she said.
“I don’t think their government has much power right now. The Russian president is playing chess and the Americans are playing checkers.” He hesitated and almost smiled. Then he continued, “What do you suggest we do?”
Zaiga thought for a moment. Her boss had usually just given her assignments. But the gravity of his disposition seemed more intense this time. If she had to guess, the man was afraid. “They have much better resources,” she finally said.
“But we have a sovereign nation to protect,” he reminded her.
She had an idea, but she didn’t think her boss would like it.
“What is it?” the director asked.
Zaiga let out a heavy breath. Then she said, “We know who some of these people are. We need to be more tough with them.”
“How?”
“Round them up and expel them.”
Now the director had an actual smirk on his face. To the casual observer it would have looked like a baby farting. But Zaiga knew the man. He was marginally amused.
“That would work as a temporary measure,” Oskars Liepa said. “But Moscow would simply send more. Yet, if we identify and watch those we know are SVR, is that not a better way to control the problem?”
She shook her head. “That’s like tolerating one rat in your house and hoping that more won’t show up. But as we all know, if there is one rat there will be more.” She pounded her right fist into the palm of her left hand. “We need to strike the rat we know and dangle it up for the world to see. As a deterrent to others.”
Oskars Liepa swiveled in his chair in deep thought. “They will be covered by diplomatic immunity. We will be forced to release them.”
“I know,” she said. “But what is the alternative? Do we wait for the Russians to start taking our officers?”
“So far they have been most interested in Riga.”
“That’s because our eastern cities are small and farther from the Russian border than in Estonia. They are also less ethnically Russian. So true Russians stand out there.” That and the fact that their Latvian Army had played a decent role with border security.
Oskars Liepa let out a quiet grunt. “How sure are you that the leader of the protest group is a Russian SVR officer?”
“I would bet my life on it,” she said. “His Latvian is nearly perfect. But that makes sense, since we know he was born in Ludza, where nearly forty percent of the population are Russian.”
“Ludza is only thirty kilometers from Russia,” he reminded her.
“I know. But Narva, Estonia is on the border with Russia. And its population is almost entirely ethnic Russian. Ninety-five percent speak Russian in Narva.”
The director contemplated those facts. “Which languages do you speak?”
“Other than Latvian, I speak Estonian, Lithuanian, Russian and English. I also have a working relationship with German and French. I can get by with Finnish and Hungarian.”
Now Oskars Liepa had the look of an approving father on his face. “Perfect,” he said. “We are expecting thousands of protesters in Riga this weekend. I need you to meet with our American counterparts this afternoon to coordinate our efforts.”
“Our efforts?” she asked. She had been held back from reacting, and relegated to simply gathering information over the past couple of months. Zaiga had asked to do more, but each request had been met with a calming hand of patience. She was sick of being patient.
“You will find out in one hour,” the director said. “The secure conference room.”
Zaiga stood tall, acknowledged her boss with a nod, and left him alone with his solemn expressions.
She wandered to the cafeteria on the first floor and had a tall cup of coffee, while she checked her email on her phone. She carried two phones—her personal phone and her work phone—both of which were set to vibrate at all times. Zaiga’s best friend, a Riga police officer, used to tell her that she should call her over and over and use the phones to pleasure herself. Her only message was on the burner phone she used for her undercover work. Aleksei wanted to see her that evening. He was undoubtedly a Russian SVR officer, but perhaps she could convince him to work for Latvia as well.
An hour later she went to the secure conference room five levels below the ground floor. Other than the director, Oskars Liepa, the SAB was represented by only three other top officers. Also in attendance were two representatives from Estonian Internal Security Service (KAPO), and two officers from VSD or Valstybes Saugumo Departmentas, the State Security Department of the Republic of Lithuania. The female VSD officer she knew from her days competing in biathlon.
Finally, the American CIA officers came in. The younger man sat near the head of the table, and the man with gray hair that seemed to stick out in all directions stood at the head of the table.
There were no names; no introductions. The CIA officer simply briefed them all on how they saw the current situation in the Baltic States. NATO was concerned, he said. The European Union was concerned. The Poles, who had been on the edge of the Iron Curtain, were most concerned. Poland had the most to lose from Russian aggression. Zaiga had to smile at that, since the Baltic States had more to lose than anyone. They were on the front lines now.
There was a lot of rhetoric but not a lot of solutions or points of action. When it came to a question period, Zaiga glanced about and nobody seemed to want to say anything.
So Zaiga raised her hand and said, “We need to be strong and stop them now before they start rolling tanks across our borders.”
The American smiled and nodded agreement. “This doesn’t leave this room.” The man paused and narrowed his gaze upon everyone in the room. “We have confirmed intelligence showing the Russians have been staging heavy armor to their western border.”
One of the officers from Estonia blinked uncontrollably as he said, “Towards Estonia?”
The American shook his head. “Into Belarus.”
Now those from Lithuania both raised their hands, but the senior male officer spoke first. “Vilnius is only forty kilometers from the Belarus border.”
“We understand,” the CIA officer said. “NATO is prepared to act to defend Lithuania. But we think Moscow has a broader strategy.”
Zaiga didn’t even raise her hand, but she did raise her voice. “If they sweep in and take Lithuania, they can quickly cut off its southern border with Poland, pinching off the Baltic States. Then they will cut west and north to swiftly take Latvia and Estonia.”
“That’s our belief as well,” the CIA officer said. “And they could do it almost simultaneously by pulling in sea assets, covered by their bomber fleet.”
My God, Zaiga thought. This was getting serious. “What can we do? Our military is not strong enough to go against the Russians.”
The CIA officer checked his watch. “We are currently moving a couple more squadrons of A-10s into the region. They are in Germany now on their way here. Also, for the first time in a long while we are repositioning a carrier air group to the Baltic Sea.”
“But from where?” Zaiga said. “That could take days.”
“I understand. But it also takes time for the Russians to move tanks into Belarus. In the meantime, we are working the diplomatic channels. We’ll let them know that we know what they plan.”
And they will complain vigorously in the U.N. once the Russians have taken over the Baltics, Zaiga thought. There had to be something they could do. Something to protect themselves. Something other than a stern letter to the U.N.
9
Narva, Estonia
Jake Adams got to this border cit
y of some sixty thousand in late afternoon. It wasn’t a bad little town, he thought. It had not seen the overhaul that had transformed Tallinn into a stunning tourist destination for cruise ships, but he guessed it was nicer than most Russian towns just across the river.
They had gotten something to eat and then scoped out the reservoir before nightfall.
Just as the sun started to set, Jake got a call on his cell phone from the Air Force colonel saying the drone was back on its way over the region. It would be over the target within an hour. Jake thanked the man and hung up.
As Jake and the two Estonian intelligence officers left the restaurant, Jake noticed a car down the street with two people in the front seat—an older man and a younger woman. But he pretended not to notice them as he got behind the wheel of his rental Skoda.
Jake started the car and pulled out into the light downtown traffic. How in the hell had the SVR officers found them? This would complicate matters.
When Jake had driven a little more than a block, the Russians pulled out and took up their tail.
“Crap,” Jake said.
“What?” Kadri asked.
“We have a tail. Don’t look. It’s the two SVR officers from earlier this morning.”
Hans leaned forward in his seat between Jake and Kadri. “How did they find us?”
There was a leak, Jake guessed. Otherwise there was no way they would have been found. “Who did you guys tell that we were going here?” Jake glanced to his right and saw that Kadri had a look of consternation on her face. By now he had stopped thinking of her as the jock. Then he checked out Hans in the rearview mirror. The stork looked guilty. “Hans?”
“I was just following orders,” Hans said. “Our boss, Olev Tamm, insisted I keep him informed.”
“Great.” Jake shook his head. “Hans, please sit back in your seat. I can’t keep track of our tail with you there.”
Hans did as he was told. Then he said, “But Olev Tamm is the General Director of Security Police of the Republic of Estonia. We must believe that he would not sell us out to the Russians.”
“I’m not saying that,” Jake said, and then turned right and picked up his pace. “But it could be something as simple as an administrative person with access to his communications.”
Kadri shook her head and slammed her hand on her leg. “He has a new secretary. His old one retired two months ago.”
“You’re right,” Hans said. “And rumor has it that Olev is sleeping with her.”
“He’s married,” Kadri said.
“That means nothing, Kadri,” Hans declared.
She turned to her partner. “Does it mean something to you and your wife?”
“Of course.” Hans thought for a way out. “But, I’m just saying it means nothing to some people.”
Jake broke in. “All right. Hans is right. Let’s assume your boss has broken one of the Ten Commandments. That opens him up to be leveraged or blackmailed.”
“That depends,” Kadri said. “Some religious scholars believe that it is not adultery between a married man and an unmarried woman. His secretary is not married.”
“Explain that to the man’s wife,” Jake said. He thought about relationships in general and how Alexandra might react to his cheating on her. It was never a good idea to do so with a heavily-armed woman.
“Good point,” she agreed. “What now?”
From the back seat, Hans said, “Now we trust no one.”
“We trust those in this car,” Jake said. But he had a better idea. Before they went to eat, Jake had found a boat he would need once it got dark. Street lights were starting to come on now in the city. He needed to head out soon.
Of course they had a little problem with the SVR officers on his tail. Jake was making totally random turns, practically running in a full circle back toward the downtown area. He didn’t want to let the Russians know that he knew they were there. So he also kept his speed to a reasonable level.
“All right,” Jake said. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.” He devised a quick plan to get rid of the Russians tailing them.
Then Jake drove to the south of the downtown area, where they had gone earlier in the day. When he reached a narrow road along the reservoir, he suddenly turned left on a side road into a group of pines. Jake got out quickly and had Kadri jump behind the wheel. She pulled backed out and turned the car toward the downtown again, leaving Jake hiding among the trees.
Looking down the road, Jake could see that the Russians had pulled over to the side of the road, with no good way to avoid their target passing by them. However, as Jake suspected, the Russians did a U-turn and took up the tail. Jake had calculated that the Russians would have had to sink down in the seat and not be able to see who was driving the Skoda.
Now, Jake checked his watch. He looked up to the sky and imagined the drone had to be loitering above somewhere. He pulled out his phone and texted the colonel. The response was almost immediate. The drone was in place and the heat signature placed Karl in the northwest area of the island on the Russian side of the reservoir. Jake wished he could tell his son he was on his way.
He guessed he had about a kilometer to hike along the reservoir before he could acquire the boat he had found earlier. Jake started off down the isolated road. With the cold chill in the air, he decided to jog.
•
Karl Adams huddled in his small fort, the moss on top of him soaked with rainwater and the moisture reaching through to him, chilling his body and bringing him to a massive fit of shivering. He couldn’t stay here much longer or hypothermia would set in and kill him faster than any Russian interrogation. Perhaps he should just give up and take his punishment. A shroud of uncertainty enveloped him with guilt for having let himself get caught in the first place. Maybe God was telling him he didn’t deserve to live.
He couldn’t think that way, he knew. But how much more could he take? His training set in and told him he needed to stay put. But that same training was based on modern warfare, where he would have special forces support coming after him to do as all American military members were trained—to never leave a fellow soldier behind. Yet, this was different. He was now under the rules of the spy game, where his government would never admit that he was engaged in espionage.
Karl’s eyes opened and he glanced up to the sky. At this point he wasn’t sure if he was praying for an answer from God, or hoping that somehow technology would save him.
He had to move or die. But did he have enough strength to swim across the reservoir to the Estonian coast? He would have to find the will to survive.
10
Jake finally got to the boat he had found earlier in the day, which was tied off to a small dock in front of an isolated residential area. The three of them had speculated that this was a weekend vacation home, and since this was the middle of the week, the small cabin appeared to be vacant. The boat itself was a beat up older aluminum craft with a forty-horse outboard motor. But at least the boat had a steering wheel at a small console on the starboard side.
Just to be sure he wouldn’t be heard ‘acquiring’ the boat, Jake untied the boat and pushed it back from the dock with everything he had, jumping aboard at the last second and then taking up a paddle to get a little farther out into the reservoir. As he suspected, the water level here was very low, so he was able to use the paddle like a Venetian gondolier, pushing off the mucky bottom of the reservoir.
Once he got out far enough, Jake hit the start button and the engine turned over but didn’t kick in. Part of the reason for nabbing this boat was the fact that the keys had been left in the ignition. But that wouldn’t have stopped Jake. These boats had rudimentary ignition systems that could be easily jumped. The key was only good if the motor would start, though. There was plenty of fuel. He held down the ignition button again and the engine sputtered a little but still wouldn’t start. The third time worked. The motor started and spewed a big cloud of smoke.
Jake sat in the pilot seat and slowly
pushed the throttle forward. The boat pulled out into the darkness. The moist air sprinkled his face as he picked up speed.
Now, once he got out into the lake a little farther, Jake found his phone, located his navigation app, and set his destination with a touch of his finger. He had gotten the GPS location of Karl from the Air Force colonel and punched that in earlier in the day.
An arrow pointed toward the south, so Jake turned the bow of the boat that way and increased the power. The GPS showed he was a little more than two miles from the island. Of course GPS always showed the shortest route, but he would have to keep turning the boat toward the west to stay within the Estonian territory. He would only cut across the channel into Russia at the last moment.
As he traveled close to the shore, a couple of times the motor hit something—probably silt or a sandbar. Hopefully not rocks or stumps. Because in the darkness he was pretty much traveling blind. He did have a small flashlight with him, but he would be crazy to use it now. He knew that the depth of the reservoir averaged only about six feet, so grounding would be a possibility.
Rain and wind continued to pound him, bringing a chill to his exposed skin.
When the arrow on his phone GPS navigation was nearly directly pointing to the east, Jake cut the power and turned the wheel to the left. Now he would have to take it slow as he crossed into Russian territory.
Also, since he couldn’t see much of anything ahead, his only indication that he was close to the island would be when the boat ran aground. Of course his phone GPS map would give him some clue that land was near.
Jake sat back in the chair with the steering wheel controlled by his knees, while he held his phone with both hands, making sure to cover it somewhat because of the light emanating from the screen.
