by John Ringo
He looked at the pad when she was done then shook his head.
"Do it again," he said. "Zoom in close on the terrain on each."
After the third he nodded.
"Stop," he said, pointing at the screen. "River crossing. The previous one was a road junction. The one before that a pass."
"And that means?" Lydia asked.
"Phase points," Nielson replied. "It's a unit calling in as it passes each phase point in what looks very like a route march on foot. They are moving west, how far we can't know. But the Pansiki is the obvious destination. The sat phone communicating to headquarters is going to be the commander of the overall unit. Probably he checks in each day to give overall progress reports. But it's what we don't know that is important."
"Which is?" Lydia asked.
"How big the total unit is and where, exactly, they are going. Send a priority request through to Pierson for a satellite pass on anything they have. And send this package on to Colonel Chechnik along with my analysis. See if the Russians have anything. Good job. And, no, it wasn't the pregnancy hormones; I've got the same butterflies."
* * *
Chechnik looked at the communiqué and swore. That was confirmation, not that he really needed it; Dassam had never been wrong.
He still knew the answer, but he typed up a short report and sent it to the priority attention of the President.
Then he sent a reply to the Keldara: The Russian Intelligence Service had no knowledge of a Chechen movement through that region.
In other words, time to lie.
* * *
"You made good time," Mike muttered, stripping off the arctic parka and wiping his face.
Yosif, Sawn and Mike were huddled under a poncho "hooch", a temporary shelter made by stringing the poncho up to the rhododendrons, having a command huddle. Sawn was mostly out of the climbing gear while Mike was still working on his.
"Thank you, Kildar," Yosif replied, grinning slightly. "But I think we had the easier route, yes? Nonetheless, Jitka broke a leg dropping in a small crevasse. I left him and Pavilis behind, as ordered. They should be fine; plenty to eat and fuel and well hidden. We found a cave near the head of the ravine. Our excess gear is cached there. Perhaps we can retrieve it sometime."
"Not until the Georgians or the Russians or somebody combs the Chechens out of these hills," Mike said.
"We spotted two of their patrols since we left the mountains," Sawn noted. All three of them had their voices pitched low, but not whispering. A whisper would carry further. However, one reason Mike had picked the spot was that the stream would tend to cover the inevitable sound of everyone getting out of the damned arctic gear and into something marginally more comfortable. It would also conceal the sound of quiet conversation.
He debated whether to strip out of the long johns, it was still cold as hell, and decided to leave them on. They were going to be here til dark and might as well be marginally comfortable.
"Get Sawn a guide to the cave," Mike continued. "Sawn, cache your gear and then get your guys bedded down. This might be the last rest they get for a while."
"Will do, Kildar," Sawn said, shrugging into his combat fleece.
"No sign of Padrek?" Mike asked.
"Not..." Yosif replied as a light bird call sounded through the trees. "Not until just now..."
* * *
Adams watched as the point team entered the rendezvous point, a rhododendron choked pile of boulders. They hadn't seen hide nor hair of anyone on their way down the mountains. In fact, they hadn't seen sign of anyone in days. It was like the Keldara were the only people in the universe at the moment. Which was just the way he liked it.
The point came back in view for a moment and waved, indicating the area was unoccupied. Which was good in one way and bad in another. It was nearly noon, the sun well up, and he had hoped the other teams had beaten them in.
He moved out with the group, scanning the area for signs of life. So far, so good. He had four hours to see who was going to make the show. Then it was game time.
* * *
Katya led Marina back into the room, ignoring the looks of the men. She'd taken to keeping her head down, her hood pulled up, so that there was less to look at. But the Russian guards hadn't had much in the way of women lately and had been guarding Marina for a couple of weeks. They had to be jacking off on a regular basis.
As always she led the girl to the bed for the evening. This evening though, she slid the blindfold off and held up her finger to her lips.
Marina blinked at the dim light in the room. The flickering kerosene lamp was probably the first light she'd seen in weeks. She looked frightened, too. She had to know that if they were caught there would be punishment. And it was almost time for Kurt's evening check.
Katya gestured for her to take off her clothes and began stripping herself, fast. She'd checked, carefully, to make sure there were no video pickups in the room. As long as they weren't heard they could get away with the switch.
Marina's eyes widened in fear again and Katya paused and shook her head. She gestured to herself then the bed. Then she gestured to Marina and outside. Finally she leaned forward to the girl's ear.
"Pull the hood up. Keep your head down. When you leave, turn right. Down the street three houses is a long building. Almost empty but some beds. Go in there and sit on the bed that has a blanket on it. Someone will come for you. Now strip and take my clothes."
Marina pulled back and looked at her wide-eyed again then started to strip, fast.
The two changed clothes and, at the last moment, Katya applied the fake scar. She didn't know what glue J had used but it still stuck to her chin. She hadn't applied make-up on purpose. For one thing, Marina didn't have any and for another she was afraid the scar wouldn't hold if she did.
When both were changed she got in the bed, put on the blindfold and held her hands up to be shackled.
Marina had been tied up enough but she'd never done it. With some coaching, conducted in gestures, she managed to get the shackles on, tight but not too tight. Then she covered Katya with the blanket and left.
There was a chance that Kurt would notice the deception, but slight. He would expect to see the girl in the bed, as she always was.
Katya lay there, unmoving, as the girl left. There was no outcry so presumably she made it out of the building. Now to see if that blond killer would notice the exchange. If so she put her life expectancy as slightly lower than a snowflake in a fire. But that was the nature of the job. If she wanted safe she should have stayed in the caravanserai.
* * *
Marina kept her head down the whole way to the building. She had been in the town for two weeks and never seen it but she didn't look around. What she did know was the sounds and they were normal. God keep that they stayed normal. This had been a nightmare. All she knew was that the men wanted her father to do something and that he had been cooperating. Given what he did for a living she could imagine what that might be.
She stopped at the door of the building she thought the whore, or the girl who acted the whore, meant. Opening it she saw that it was filled with beds and otherwise nearly empty. One had a blanket on it and she went over and sat down on it.
She wasn't sure what to feel. She wasn't tied up anymore but she also wasn't free. There was no way she could get out of the town on her own. All she could do was hope. But it was more hope than she had had in weeks.
It was a seeming eternity before the door opened and a hugely fat man came in. She recalled that wheezing breath from when the new whore had been brought to the house. He was the girl's pimp. Her pimp, now, for as long as she could pull off the deception.
"You've been sold," the man said, wheezingly. "And the German says that you aren't needed anymore. So come along."
"Yes, sir," Marina said, keeping her head down.
She followed the man out of the building to a nearly deserted café. There were only five men in the room, one a large, powerful looking man wi
th the most evil face she had ever seen.
"This is the girl I told you about," Yaroslav said, settling into an overstressed chair. "She is beautiful, no? Ten thousand euros."
"I can barely see her face and nothing of her body," the man replied. "A thousand."
"It is a cold, wet night and I am tired," Yaroslav said. "Nine thousand or I take her back."
The haggling was brief. They settled at six thousand.
"No profit for me but I finally have these damned women off my hands," Yaroslav sighed, taking the money. "I think it is time to find a better place for business."
"Wherever you go you seem to find women dropped on you," the man said, standing up and taking Marina by the wrist. "If you try to run, bitch, I will pound you into a pulp."
"I won't run," Marina promised. Had she been released from the men holding her only to be sold as a whore? Was that why the girl had changed with her? But, if so, where had that fake scar come from.
Chapter Thirty
The President walked into the Situation Room carrying a fresh cup of coffee. He settled into his seat and just sat there, eyes closed, head down. Possibly praying, possibly just preparing his mind for the day. Or both. After a moment he looked up at the Air Force major in charge of Predator data.
"What's our status on the Predators?" the president asked.
"We have two...on station, Mr. President," the major said, nervously. "We have one more on the way to the target area."
"I thought we had four?" the president said, calmly.
"One crashed on the way to the target, sir," the major replied with a gulp. "There's a major storm in the area. We don't actually have observation of the target area. The Predators are flying blind. The pilots inform me they're just trying to keep them in the air, much less get a view of the operation."
"And if we push them down under the cloud cover, even if we could, we're likely to blow the operation," the Secretary of Defense pointed out.
"Mike will call, one way or the other, as soon as the mission condition is clear," the Secretary of State said. She would not normally have been in on a situation like this, but not only did she have an excellent background in the field, she had after all previously been the National Security Advisor, she had been deeply involved in missions involving Mike Harmon from the beginning. There was no way the President was going to deal with something like this without her in the room.
"So we have to depend on him to make the call," the President pointed out. "But without a clear view, how do we know where to drop if we have to?"
"It's not exactly a precision weapon, Mr. President," the Secretary of Defense pointed out. "Close counts."
* * *
The man dragged Marina outside and into a Lada that had seen better days. It started though with an unusually powerful growl and the man drove rapidly to the north.
"Call me Boris if anyone asks," the man said in a friendly manner. "And try to continue to act scared. My name, though, is Captain Illyan of the Russian Intelligence Bureau. We'll be through the first Russian checkpoint in about an hour or so. After that you can feel safe. Welcome back, by the way."
"What about my father?" Marina asked, relieved but still tense.
"That is up to other people," the captain sighed. "But they are very good. He will be fine."
* * *
"Fuck me," Vanner muttered.
"Did I just see what I think I saw?" Julia said, quietly. "Is that Katya in the bed now?"
"Roger," Vanner said. Shit, he was going to have to broadcast send a message.
"Marina has been extracted, replaced by Katya," Vanner typed into the BFT system. "Repeat, primary hostage is extracted. New extractee is Cottontail."
He set the recording to hold then hit the send button on the transmitter. It was a risk but the most anyone was going to get was a brief electronic squeal.
* * *
This was precisely the worst time to get an update from Vanner but Adams held up his hand for a pause when he felt the vibration against his thigh. He pulled the device out and held it up to his eyes, cupped to see the data.
He paused, assimilating the information then tried very hard not to swear. What the fuck was that girl playing at?
Whatever. He'd get Katya and then figure out where the other bitch went. Why could women never stick to a plan?
* * *
The Keldara used equipment that while not identical to US, it was better than most units had, was fully compatible. So as soon as Adams got the news, so did the President.
"Whatever does that mean?" the President asked, puzzled.
"Cottontail is the code name for one of Mr. Jenkins' agents," the Secretary of State said, with only a glance at her notes. "She was inserted in advance to localize and protect Dr. Arensky's daughter. I've seen pictures of both and there is some superficial similarity. Apparently she chose to take the daughter's place and somehow managed to smuggle her out of the building."
"Mr. President," the Air Force major said, looking at his laptop. "We just got a communiqué from Russian Intel. They report successfully extracting Marina Arensky out of Gamasoara. She is currently well away from the area of operations and, in fact, in Russian territory. In the event that there are any problems, a Spetznaz team is on standby for a hard extraction. But they indicate that they think they can extract her without issues."
"So the Kildar's agent took her place, somehow got her to Russian intel and they're pulling her out?" the president mused. "Brave girl. We ought to do something for her. Even if we got Arensky and the 'materials', whatever they really are, if the Chechens still had his daughter it would be a big problem, right?"
"Yes, sir," the Secretary of Defense said. "That's why the double mission."
"Yeah, we need to do something for that girl," the president said. "That's a really selfless thing to do. Get her and Mike up to Camp David you think?"
"I'll look into it," the Secretary of State said, smoothly, shooting an unnoticed glance at the Secretary of Defense.
"And, yes, I know she's probably one of his hookers," the president said, trying not to smile. "But I'll make sure nobody mentions it."
"Actually, sir," the SecDef said. "The problem is that... Cottontail is also the girl we... upgraded to be a professional assassin. The Secret Service is going to... be somewhat less than enthused."
"I'll try not to let her kill me."
"And I'll try not to gibber," the SecState said with a sigh. She had seen Katya's full dossier. The thought of her having tea with the First Lady at Camp David...boggled. Then she had to smile. The image was just too funny.
* * *
Mike smiled in a driving rain: it was, as they say, "Great weather for SEALs and ducks." So far, so good.
The visibility absolutely sucked, of course. So the effectiveness of the snipers was going to be cut damned near to zero. But that cut two ways; he had been pretty sure that the Russians, at least, were going to be in overwatch with snipers. When they took the meeting down the snipers had been his biggest worry. With the rain and wind, that worry had been cut in half.
But the rain and wind, which if anything was increasing, would mask their movement to the target. Which, unless he was completely lost, was just over the hill.
Before moving out from the assembly area he'd sent a coded burst, just a alpha code, indicating that they were prepared for the mission and moving to final phase. He had received, in reply, three bursts. Vanner's team was in contact with higher and Katya, Adams' team was in position and prepared to move out and supports, such as they were, were in place. As soon as they'd performed the raid he planned to break radio silence and get an update from Nielson. However, his digital command pad indicated there was an armed Predator somewhere up above the muck. Which meant the boss was watching. They'd better get their shit straight on this one or they were likely to get a nuclear enema.
