by Will Jordan
Mitchell frowned, failing to see where he was going with this. ‘So what was it for?’
‘No idea. Hawkins had put a sniper round through it, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t down to bad aim. But I managed to remove the hard drive before we left, and sent the contents to a friend of mine back at Langley. Her name’s Frost – she does a lot of technical work with the shepherd teams there.’
That said a lot about her credentials, Mitchell thought. The shepherd teams were an elite amongst the Agency’s field teams, tasked with finding and retrieving operatives who went missing in the most dangerous and difficult environments on earth. Only the best in their respective areas were put forward for selection, and not many made the grade.
‘How the hell do you know someone like her?’ she couldn’t help asking.
‘Let’s say she owes me a favour or two,’ Argento went on, the look in his eyes hinting that there was more history there than he was prepared to get into. ‘Anyway, from what she could tell, our friends had been downloading a file from the Agency’s secure network. The file itself was damaged beyond repair – I guess a fifty-calibre round will do that – but she did find something interesting about the download. It seems everything was being backed up in an online ghost drive, probably as a security measure. She was able to trace the IP address to Istanbul, Turkey.’
The bartender was approaching to refill her drink, but Mitchell waved her off. Her attention was very much on Argento now. She found it hard to believe Yates would risk so much by taking another shot at cracking the Agency’s network. Then again, if men like Hawkins were prepared to kill to protect its secrets, it made sense that others were prepared to go just as far to uncover them.
‘So what’s his play now?’ she wondered.
‘According to Frost, there are two options. One, he tries to set up another download. The downside is he knows we’re onto him now. We’ve seen the program he’s using, so we’d know what to look for if he tried again. For what it’s worth, she’ll keep a lookout for this just in case. Option two, he goes to the server building where the ghost drive is stored and manually retrieves the file without us knowing. What would you do if you were him?’
Mitchell couldn’t believe what she was hearing. If Argento was right, they might well have been granted a sudden and startling insight into the intentions of Yates and his female accomplice. This was a game-changer; an advantage they simply couldn’t afford to pass up.
The only question now was what to do with it.
‘Does Hawkins know about this?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve got the only copy of the hard drive.’
‘And this Frost back in DC. Do you trust her?’
Argento made a face. ‘She’s a pain in the ass at times – you’d like her – but she won’t compromise us. I’d stake my life on it. Right now, the three of us are the only ones who know about this.’
‘Then that’s how I want it to stay,’ Mitchell decided.
‘I can live with that. But there’s something else you should know.’ His smile faded a little as he continued. ‘Don’t get pissed with me, but I also had Frost run a covert personnel search on our friend Hawkins. I was hoping she might dig up some dirt.’
‘Let me guess; there’s no record of the guy.’ She might not have worked with the Agency for long, but even she understood that such men were kept strictly off the books. Hawkins, if that was even his real name, was most likely part of a black-ops unit that didn’t officially exist, even within the Agency itself.
Argento feigned a look of surprise. ‘Actually there is. At least, there’s part of one. And here’s where it gets interesting. Hawkins was US Army, part of Delta Force. A decorated special-forces operative with a bunch of successful ops under his belt. Then in 2001 his record stops.’
She frowned, beginning to wish she hadn’t drunk so much. Her normally keen mind had been dulled by the vodka. ‘You mean he was discharged?’
‘No, you don’t follow. His record just ends right there. No discharge papers, no information about new postings or transfers. It’s like he just disappeared.’ He looked at her searchingly. ‘My guess is he was inducted into some kind of black-ops unit, off the books, maybe a joint venture between the army and the Agency.’
‘You come up with that all by yourself, Vince?’
‘Kiss my ass,’ he retorted. ‘The point is, there’s definitely something dirty about our buddy Hawkins. I don’t know what his agenda is, but it sure as hell isn’t about protecting national security from computer hackers.’
She wasn’t about to argue with that.
‘The woman with the blonde hair is his real mission,’ Argento went on. Now that his conspiracy-theory mind was in full flow, there was no stopping him. ‘You saw how personal he made this during the house assault. I think she and Hawkins were in the same unit together. Maybe she turned against him, got sick of his bullshit and went rogue. Can’t say I’d blame her, to be honest…’
‘Okay, calm down,’ Mitchell said, stopping him before things got out of hand. Once ideas like this took hold, it was easy to lose sight of the facts that had spawned them. ‘All we have right now are missing service records and unproven theories. Let’s stick with what we know.’
His grin was conspiratorial. ‘We know where Yates and his friend are likely to head next. And we know that if we want to find out what this is really about, we won’t get another chance like this. The question is, what’s our play?’
She hadn’t missed his choice of words, or their implication. ‘Your play is to follow orders and go home. I’ll decide what to do with this.’
‘Well, we both know I’m not going to listen to that,’ he said, his cocky smile returning. ‘We also know that if you’re heading to Istanbul to take on this woman, you’re going to need help. That’s in pretty short supply these days.’
Mitchell looked at her comrade in exasperation. Argento was intelligent and enthusiastic to be sure, but he was also young and far too confident for her liking. The course of action he was suggesting had the potential to end careers, perhaps even lives if it went wrong. She wondered if he truly appreciated the dangers.
‘Look, this isn’t a game we’re playing here. You’ve got a good record and a promising career ahead of you. Why risk it on something like this?’
His grin broadened. ‘I’m a sucker for a good conspiracy. Plus Hawkins is an asshole and I’d like to see him take a fall. And… I hate to admit this, but I think you deserve a second chance.’
Mitchell sighed and looked down at her empty glass. ‘You know there are no guarantees with this?’
‘Of course. That’s what makes it fun.’
There was nothing else she could say. She’d given him every chance to back out, but still he insisted on coming with her. And if she was honest, deep down she appreciated the help he was offering. She had a feeling she’d need it.
Pushing her empty glass away, she rose from her seat. ‘Then let’s get to work.’
Chapter 32
Standing at the edge of a lay-by near the small town of Råholt, about twenty miles north of Oslo, Alex stamped his feet and wrapped his arms around his chest. It was growing cold with the onset of evening, a chill breeze rustling the trees around them.
The dirt bike that had carried them this far before finally running out of fuel lay abandoned in the woods behind. It had served its purpose now anyway.
He glanced down at his watch for the third time in as many minutes, unable to help himself. ‘He’s late.’
Anya, crouched atop a low mound of rocky earth that had probably been bulldozed aside to make way for the road years earlier, didn’t stir from her vigil. Her attention was focussed on the main highway, her intense gaze following each car that cruised past.
The improvised bandage around her injured arm was hidden by her jacket, which she’d also done her best to clean of blood and dirt, but it was clear even to him that the woman had been through the mill. It was unlikely she’d be able to
move around a town or city without attracting attention, and they both knew it.
‘He’ll be here.’
Alex wished he shared her conviction. But after everything that had happened over the past few days, he was less inclined to put his faith in others.
‘What if he isn’t?’
She turned her head slowly to look at him, saying nothing. The dangerous glimmer in her eyes however warned him she was tiring of such questions.
‘Fair enough,’ Alex conceded. His companion wasn’t big on providing reassurance in tense situations, or making small-talk in general. She spoke when she had something to say, but otherwise felt no need to fill the silence.
For him, however, the opposite was true.
‘How is it you know Kristian anyway?’
She didn’t reply for a few seconds. It was the kind of pause he’d come to recognize when she was weighing up the value of answering against the risk he’d ask a more probing question next time.
‘When I defected from the Soviet Union, I came through Sweden and hiked over the border into Norway. That was where I handed myself over to the authorities. Kristian was the intelligence officer assigned to debrief me.’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose you could say he was the first friend I made in the West.’
Alex frowned. All this talk of the Soviet Union meant her defection had to have happened nearly twenty years ago, if not longer. ‘How old were you?’
‘Eighteen.’
Alex’s eyes opened wider in surprise. It was certainly enough to put his own life into perspective. ‘Jesus Christ. I was playing Tomb Raider and downing Jägerbombs when I was that age.’
While she was risking her life to make the perilous journey through the Iron Curtain.
He felt rather than saw her eyes on him in the gathering darkness. The eyes of someone who had endured hardships, made decisions and committed acts he would never understand. More than ever, he sensed the immense gulf that existed between him and his enigmatic companion.
‘You must think I’m a bit of a joke, eh?’ he asked, guessing her dark thoughts. ‘I’ve pissed around my entire life, wasted time, never taken much responsibility for anything.’
‘Actually, I was thinking the opposite,’ she said. Much to his surprise, there was a strange undertone of sadness and longing in her voice when she spoke next. ‘I envy you.’
Alex was about to reply, but the glow of headlights on the main road prompted him to hold his tongue. Crouching down beside Anya, he watched as a vehicle slowed and pulled into the lay-by. It was a black saloon of some kind, probably a BMW judging by the general outline, though it was hard to tell in the gathering dark.
The vehicle sat there for a few seconds, the idling engine venting steam from the twin exhausts, before the driver finally shut it down. Alex heard the click of a door opening, and moments later the figure of a man emerged.
Neither Alex nor Anya moved a muscle as the driver stood there, allowing his senses to tune in to the environment and his eyes to adjust to the dark.
‘I’m here,’ a familiar voice called out. ‘I’ve come alone and unarmed. You might as well show yourself.’
Alex almost jumped when he felt a hand on his arm. ‘Stay here,’ Anya instructed.
He nodded, saying nothing. He was more than happy to let her take the lead.
Reaching for the sidearm at her waist, Anya drew the weapon and rose up from her vantage point. The driver spotted her the moment she broke cover, though he made no move to advance or retreat as she approached him with the weapon in plain view.
Kristian Halvorsen was one of the very few people in this world whom Anya had trusted enough to make contact with after her break away from the Agency. Always a large, heavy-set man with a fleshy, expressive face, he hadn’t changed much since she’d first met him two decades earlier. Perhaps his swept-back hair was a little thinner now, his face a little fuller and more deeply lined, but all things considered he wore his sixty years of life far more comfortably than she expected to if she lived that long.
‘My cell phone is switched off,’ he said, holding his arms up to show he wasn’t holding anything. ‘And I was not followed.’
Anya said nothing as she briskly patted him down, checking for concealed weapons while keeping the automatic trained on him. He was wearing a woollen overcoat to guard against the falling temperature, and she made sure to search the inside pockets before stepping back a pace, at last allowing her guard to lower a little.
‘You’re late,’ she said, her tone accusatory.
He shrugged. ‘So shoot me.’
Anya kept the weapon trained on him a moment longer, then finally lowered it.
The tension broken, Halvorsen smiled, reached out and embraced her. ‘It is good to see you again, Anya.’
Anya returned the gesture, more relieved than she was prepared to admit to be around someone from the world she was so familiar with. She felt like she was in her comfort zone again.
Halvorsen looked her up and down, his smile fading. ‘Now tell me, what the hell have you been up to? I’m hearing reports of shoot-outs, Norwegian citizens and police officers being murdered, and then you show up just hours later. This is not how you used to operate. Or has that changed as well?’
Anya knew better than to rise to this rebuke. In truth, Halvorsen had every right to be angry. She was far from pleased at how things had turned out herself.
‘I need your help,’ she said instead, deciding to be honest about it.
‘Clearly, or you wouldn’t be here.’ He sighed and glanced around, seeking the young man he knew was hiding nearby. ‘I presume your partner in crime is here too. You might as well bring him out.’
Anya nodded and turned towards the mound of bulldozed earth she’d just come from. ‘Alex, you can come out.’
Rising up from his hiding place, Alex shuffled down the steep earthen incline and approached them, eyeing Halvorsen with a mixture of wariness and hostility.
The older man nodded in greeting. ‘It has been a long time, Alex. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.’
‘Yeah, thanks, Kristian. That makes me feel a lot better,’ Alex fired back with surprising heat. ‘I’m about as popular with the CIA as Osama Bin Laden right now, but what the fuck, eh?’
Halvorsen looked from Alex to Anya, apparently lost for words after his outburst.
‘Forgive him,’ Anya said by way of apology. ‘The last few days have been… difficult.’
‘No fucking shit they’ve been difficult. I’ve been arrested, beaten up, tasered, shot at, nearly drowned, and watched my friend murdered right in front of my eyes. So yeah, it’s been a bit of a rough one.’ His accusing eyes were focussed on Halvorsen. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Halvorsen had recovered from his surprise and was looking at him like he was ready to get back in his car and drive off any second. ‘Tell you what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Your favourite ice cream flavour, maybe? How about that you’re a fucking spy for starters? Or that you were secretly vetting us to be your fucking cyber-mercenaries? Or that the “client” you recommended to Arran was some kind rogue ex-CIA nut-job – no offence, by the way,’ he added, sparing Anya a glance. ‘Didn’t you think any of this was worth filling us in on?’
Halvorsen took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous when he spoke again. ‘You and Arran were stealing other people’s secrets for your own gain long before I met you, Alex. Did you really think this wouldn’t catch up with you in the end?’
Alex opened his mouth to speak, yet found himself unable to. He had no argument for that, much to his frustration.
Satisfied that he’d silenced the young man, Halvorsen turned his attention back to Anya. ‘You said you needed my help.’
Giving Alex a brief look that suggested they’d be having words about this outburst later, Anya nodded. ‘It is complicated.’
‘Then you’d better come with me,’ he said, gesturing to the car. ‘I know somewhere we c
an talk.’
Chapter 33
An hour later, Alex let out a low whistle as the door in front of him opened to reveal a plush, ultramodern apartment with big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the brightly lit buildings of central Oslo. With expensive chrome fixtures, polished wood floors and marble worktops everywhere, it looked like the sort of place where Hollywood movie stars would hang out and congratulate each other on being awesome.
‘Nice place,’ he remarked, looking around in awe. The monthly rent on an apartment like this was probably more than he made in a year.
And yet, looking closer there was an oddly sterile look about the place. No stacks of books or magazines in the living area, no jars of herbs or decorative bottles of olive oil in the kitchen, no clutter or personal effects of any kind for that matter.
The place was as empty as it was elegant.
‘This is a safe house, reserved for Norwegian security services,’ Halvorsen explained, tossing his overcoat on the breakfast bar in the kitchen. ‘It is used from time to time for meetings, or witness protection. Mostly it stands empty, except when one of our officers decides to take a lady friend somewhere impressive.’
The look on his face suggested this had happened more times than he approved of.
‘Taxpayer’s money at work, eh?’ Alex remarked with a derisive snort.
Halvorsen shrugged. ‘It serves a purpose. We can talk freely here without worrying about eavesdropping.’ He gestured to a dining table set off to one side of the room. ‘Come, sit.’
He took one side, with Alex and Anya sitting opposite. He eyed them both, like a chess playing sizing up his opponent.
‘So tell me, what has happened?’
It was Anya who did most of the talking. Halvorsen listened while she briefly outlined her deal with Arran, his disappearance and Alex’s subsequent arrest, her improvised rescue mission and their escape to Norway, then finally their rendezvous with Alex’s friend Landvik and the shootout at his home.
‘The Agency are after us, and they will use every resource at their disposal to stop us recovering the file,’ she finished. ‘We have one chance left to get it, but for this we need help.’
