by Rob Carnell
October 12, 06.00am
* * *
AS USUAL, the morning started early for Bill Simpson. Since the kids had left home and his wife divorced him, he seemed to drift in to work earlier each day. He knew this would have to change, but he genuinely loved his work and believed that he could make a difference, he had no doubt that his was the best job in the world.
At 6.45am he received a call from security.
"Director Simpson, this is Tom Burns in the gatehouse. This is a little unusual sir, but I have a foreign national here telling me you are expecting him but he is not on the visitor list."
"Bill was perplexed at the thought, he was not expecting company and was busy beyond belief, where the hell is he from?"
After taking the visitor’s business card, the six feet four inch tall former marine gunnery sergeant lifted a phone and informed his boss that the man’s name was John Smith and that he worked for Athena Imports. Burns qualified this information saying that "he doesn’t look like a John Smith to me, sir."
"I see. Gunny, is he overweight with a bald patch and speaks with a Russian accent?"
"Sir, yes sir." He instantly replied but kept kicking himself for Marine speak.
"Thanks gunny, I know this gentleman and his visit is of extreme National importance. I want you to personally escort him to my office urgently. Can you leave your post right now?"
"Sir, yes sir, I will escort him immediately."
"Just one more thing gunny. There is no need for the formality of logging this particular visitor in, give him an ID tag and bring him right up."
The gunnery sergeant Burns had always respected Bill, who was also a former marine. Corp loyalty went a long way in the US military, and Tom knew that this must be a matter of national importance. He grabbed the Russian by the sleeve, grabbed an id tag from the rack beside the door with his other hand, and took off with the Russian in tow.
It took all of three minutes for the expected knock on Simpson’s door.
"Burns escorting Mr. Smith, sir" bellowed through the closed door.
Bill opened the door and was immediately embraced by his Russian counterpart.
"Thanks Tom, I appreciate your help on this one." After three years here, Bill still could not reconcile the way his marine comrade looked in a civilian suit. He still wore it just like a uniform, perfectly pressed and the only blemish a slight crease under the arm where the outline of his weapon was faintly visible.
Burns just winked, turned around and marched out. He might not look quite right in a suit, but he was all business.
Oleg was a little surprised to see that the office was not empty. There was a young man already seated at the round table in Bill’s office.
"Oleg Peotyr, this is Matthew John Peterson. Matt is my best analyst and is working with me on this one."
Matt rose and shook hands with the Russian bear. At twenty seven, Matt was a rising star in the intelligence business.
After they all sat, there was a hush in greetings and Oleg was the first to break the eerie silence.
"Bill and Mat, I am sorry to intrude with no notice. I have not slept since our conversation yesterday. I immediately called the commander of our weapons base in Vladivostok who told me nothing was amiss, but his voice told another story. I commandeered an aircraft and flew there with an armed detail.
"Before I go further, Bill, I am sorry, but I must ask if Matt has your confidence?" This was Russian speak for "Is Matthew security cleared to hear this?"
"Matt is the best and brightest guy on our team he has a masters from M.I.T., and also holds the record for pistol qualification on the range. He is security cleared, speaks fluent Russian and Arabic, and I trust him with my life", Bill meant every word.
"Impressive, it is my pleasure to work with you my young friend" the Russian beamed.
"I will continue. When my team arrived at the facility, we locked down the complex and immediately began inspecting their records.
As well as regular armaments, this building was also home to some old, largely forgotten items from our past. The records showed that there were three LM4 suitcase nuclear weapons in storage there.
We immediately searched the location, and found the storage locker empty.
I personally questioned the commander and he reluctantly admitted to being paid to look the other way about these missing items."
"What else did he say, can I talk to him?" Matt was anxious to get involved.
"He gave me the name of the man who paid him, but I am afraid he will be of no further help in this matter" said Oleg.
"Surely I may be able to learn something, the smallest detail may be important" Matt pleaded.
"That will not be possible. Our questioning methods are quite thorough. Besides, he was executed after our little chat."
Matt realized that this business really was of life and death importance.
Chapter 48
Embassy of the Russian Federation
Washington D.C.
October 12, 08.00pm
* * *
THIS WAS the first time that either Bill or Matt had ever been to the Embassy of the Russian Federation in Phelps Place in Washington DC.
As they were leaving their vehicle Bill pulled Matt aside and whispered to his protégé "This should be interesting, I understand you made quite an impression on our Russian friend" said the Intelligence chief with a wink, knowing more than he was letting on.
They were immediately ushered into the private dining room which was magnificent and the crystal chandelier breathtaking.
"A toast to our friendship" as Oleg passed glasses of vodka.
Matt was not a vodka drinker, but he had long ago learned that when in the presence of superiors, it was best to drink whatever they were drinking!
Bill was similarly unimpressed with the Russian staple, and was hoping for a change of brew.
"Any chance of a whisky Oleg" whispered Bill in perfect Russian.
Matt had no idea that Bill had language skills outside of New England, his esteem for his boss continued to grow.
The burly Russian host waved to the waiter who waited patiently well out of earshot, and he rushed over immediately.
Oleg whispered in his ear and almost immediately the waiter re-appeared with a bottle of thirty five year old Macallan malt scotch labeled Cask strength, thought by many to be the ultimate whisky experience.
The Russian poured three glasses and took his straight up. Bill did as his Scottish host the previous year had taught him and splashed in a little water. Matt did the same and added a couple of ice cubes as well.
"Thanks for agreeing to meet us Oleg, I was going to buy you pizza, but I hear the food here is infinitely better than Pizza Hut!" Bill began when the time was right.
"Oleg, we need help to track down the other missing suitcase nukes," shot Bill in a tone that was a little too forceful.
"Sorry Oleg, I didn’t mean to be rude, but President Connolly is not the only one really worried about this situation."
"I spoke to him this afternoon and he has insisted that we have someone on the ground to help you track down those nasty suitcases that were supposed to have been destroyed long ago."
Oleg grinned from ear to ear "I have also been in contact with my President Arkadin. He has been speaking with your President Connolly, and they both agreed that I could pick the US liaison officer on this case.
Given the fact that the first weapon almost certainly landed in the hands of muslim extremists, I have chosen you my young friend" said Oleg pointing at Matt Peterson with his glass of amber nectar "to go back to Russia with me to be the U.S. eyes and ears over there."
Matt’s mouth hung open and he dropped twenty five dollars worth of malt scotch in his lap.
"Sorry guys, I don’t think I am the right person for this, I am a desk jockey" replied Matt in a sheepish sort of way as he mopped the dregs from his trousers with a napkin.
"No way Matt, both Presidents have already approved you, our Russian f
riends have insisted on a non-shooter. After I explained your Russian and Arabic language skills and security clearance, it was decided way above my pay grade, it’s a done deal…..no discussion" Bill explained in a formal way.
Chapter 49
En Route back to Langley
October 12, 11.35pm
* * *
ONCE THEY were seated in the rear soundproof compartment of their car for their trip home, Matt turned to Bill "What the fuck is going on here?"
Bill found Matt’s comment very amusing and commented, "I had a bet with myself you would say that, I won!"
"You know I am a computer guy, not a field guy, this isn’t what I do" said Matt.
"So you keep saying" said Bill, tossing Matt a folder.
Matt caught it, "What’s this?" he asked.
Bill did not answer, but the cover said it all:
CIA Training File - Matthew Peterson.
There was instant silence in the cabin for more than the next hour, as Matt read it cover to cover. He did not even notice when they double parked at the Langley undercover entrance and Bill held up his hand, signaling the driver to wait.
What he read fascinated Matt. There were even excerpts from interviews with people he had not seen since grade school. The background check was very thorough. The first thing that really caught his eye was something from one of his University professors. It read:
"Peterson is an excellent student and has a real flair for languages, I recommend him for recruitment."
Matt had always wondered who had brought him to the agency’s notice. The guy that arrived to join him five years previously at an empty coffee table and passed him a CIA card would never tell Matt. "You don’t need to know" said the recruiter.
Next, he came to the section detailing his training at the infamous Farm, the top secret CIA training centre near Williamsburg Virginia.
"Bill, what is all this? I am just a computer nerd who can shoot."
"Read on Matt, it gets even more interesting" said Bill.
There was quite a bit included from his self-defense instructor.
"Peterson has way above average skills in hand to hand combat, I would rate him in the top 5% that I have ever trained."
Matt had always thought just the opposite, since his instructor seemed to take personal pleasure in kicking his butt at every opportunity.
Matt realized he made a huge mistake during his first class, when he had unconsciously bowed when entering the training hall. This mark of respect was taught to him in his first Goju Ryu karate lesson in Texas when he was only eleven. He had done it at every lesson for more than ten years, old habits die hard.
Tom Cullen, the burly ex Delta Force instructor had noticed this immediately and asked Matt to come down the front to be the first guinea pig. "Show me what you can do Bruce Lee" said Cullen as he grabbed Matt in a bear hug. Matt had no idea at all and actually passed out from lack of oxygen.
Over the next four months of daily sessions, Matt came to realize that the karate he had learned gave him awesome punches, kicks and blocks, but it was a long way from being of much practical use. Cullen had spent a lot of time working with Matt, and insisted he practice all techniques until they were second nature to him. Weapons, take downs, wrestling and grappling are not part of traditional karate training, so they did heaps of work in these areas.
"Peterson’s speed is excellent, and his defense against a knife attack is the best I have ever witnessed in 15 years of teaching unarmed combat."
Matt could not believe what he was reading. He thought he had not done well in this part of the training at all, and did not realize that he was put under much more pressure than the other students because of his potential.
He knew he had done ok on the shooting range, since he had been shooting since he was a kid when his father began taking him hunting for groundhogs when he was only ten.
"Competent - score 93/100," was all that he saw.
Next he read his report on the formal intelligence tests:
"Peterson shows excellent analytical and problem solving skills. His IQ is way above average at 162. He should prove to be adaptable to most situations. However, he can become impatient in some situations."
This was also news to him.
When he had come to the last page, he passed it back to his boss Bill Simpson, wondering why he got to read this.
Simpson made no move to take the dossier back, "You missed the best section. Take a look at the back page."
Matt turned over the report and hand written in red ink on the back was a signed note from the Director of the Farm.
"Recommended for assignment as a field agent."
"You better get home and pack, tomorrow you leave for Moscow" said Bill. He handed Matt a mobile telephone handset. "This is a special unit" he explained. "It contains a GPS unit so we can track your movements, guard it with your life" Bill joked.
"Call me every day at 4pm my time just to check-in. If you don’t call I will know there is a problem and I will send in the cavalry."
"You sound like my mother" said a stunned Matt.
Chapter 50
Aeroflot Flight 122
En Route Moscow, Russia
October 13
* * *
PREVIOUSLY THIS flight would have been on an old Ilushin aircraft, but these were now no longer used for passengers. The Airbus 310 looked almost new from the outside, but it did look like it could do with a good clean on the inside. Matt hoped the engines were better serviced than the galley appeared to be!
Matt found the seats in the plane downright uncomfortable, but thanked god that his Russian hosts had provided business class arrangements. This was by far the longest flight Matt had ever taken, the short eight hour hop across the Atlantic to London did not compare with this twelve hour marathon.
He was in awe of those international businessmen who seemed to spend the better part of their lives in airport terminals and eating aircraft food. He was glad it was them and not him!
"It is time for us to make some plans for your time in our country" explained Oleg after the dinner trays had been collected and the beautiful blonde hostess returned with a bottle of vodka that she casually slipped to Oleg.
Oleg filled two glasses and handed one to Matt "Let’s toast our success".
Matt was beginning to enjoy the icy potency of the top shelf Russian vodka. He cheered "Bottoms up" and requested a refill.
"I have made some plans for when we arrive in Moscow. Unfortunately this is not my only pressing issue" he said in perfect English.
"My most trusted aid Natasha has been assigned to accompany you on your mission. She has full security clearance and will give you any help she can. I myself briefed her last night."
"Thanks Oleg, I can speak some Russian, but someone who knows the ropes will be a great help" said a grateful Peterson.
They chatted for a while, and Oleg kept refilling the vodka glasses. Finally, the Russian seemed ready to rest and closed his eyes.
Matt stood up and unloaded his computer bag from the overhead locker and extracted his notebook computer. He randomly grabbed a DVD from a bunch in the bag and slipped it into the slot on the side of the machine and plugged in a headset. Soon Bruce Willis was on the screen in Die Hard, but Matt never got to see the ending. The vodka had taken its toll.
He slept soundly until he awoke to the sound of a thick Russian accent announcing "this is the Captain, we will shortly begin making our descent into Moscow . . . . ."
Chapter 51
Moscow International Airport
Moscow, Russia
* * *
THE FLIGHT attendants stood in the aisles holding back the impending stampede allowing Oleg and Matt to deplane first.
Waiting for them was a uniformed officer and a tall well dressed young woman.
"Matt, this is my driver" said Oleg indicating the man in uniform "and this is Natasha, your contact here."
Natasha was nothing like the Russian wom
en portrayed in movies. She was of medium height with a well-toned body that had enough curves that could not be hidden by the unisex cut of her business suit. Even with her hair worn up and no makeup Matt recognized her inherent beauty. Her unmasked confidence attracted him, making him want to know her better, perhaps much better. Their greeting, however, remained professional. When she welcomed him in perfect English, her voice indicated no trace of her Russian heritage. He knew that she could pass for an American anywhere and from the slightly amused look in her large brown eyes, he realized that he had met his match.
Together they walked to the parking garage and climbed inside a well appointed black limousine.
"This is where I get off Matt" said Oleg, "but Natasha will look after you from here. Good luck with your search. We can celebrate your mission with some more vodka when you return with good news!"
The driver then drove for three quarters of an hour and delivered them to a featureless apartment building in a sea of similar buildings.
Chapter 52
Apartment 3b
Red Star Apartment Complex
Moscow, Russia
October 14
* * *
MATT WAS not at all impressed with the accommodations offered by Natasha. The old building was massive but lacked most creature comforts. The apartment that Natasha opened with her key was at least warm. Inside there was a small living area and there were two small bedrooms. Matt was ushered into the small one.
As if reading his mind, Natasha spoke first "Matt, please understand that this is first class accommodation usually reserved for party members, this will be the best of quarters during your stay here. It will get much worse when we travel north."
