by Ethan Jones
“How much can we tell him?”
“Call him up and tell him that we were following a lead, which took us to the café. Tell him who the dead man is, and keep the communications civil.” Moretti’s voice rang with a hint of nervousness.
Justin opened the lid to savor the strong coffee aroma. Steam was rising up, and the coffee was too hot to be enjoyed. He stifled the first thought that crossed his mind and said, “Don’t I always?” His voice didn’t come out as cheerful as he had hoped.
“No, not really.” Moretti missed Justin’s attempt at humor. “Look, we need Nyberg on our side. I know he can be a pain; I get that. Do what you can to not irritate him more than he already is…”
Justin nodded. “Sure, I can do that.”
“Good. Now back to Sokolov. It’s clear that his intel is good, but that doesn’t mean he’s valuable. Not yet.”
Justin nodded again, blew slowly on his coffee, and took a small sip. Still too hot. “He gave me a recording that’s supposed to have something explosive about the next elections in the States and how the Russians might be involved in manipulating them.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Apparently. I haven’t listened to it yet.”
“Well, do so, and let me know what’s in it. But the recording could be fake, and it could be a trick, to fool us into believing that he genuinely wants to defect and provide us with accurate intel.”
“The thought had crossed my mind too. The assassins at the café could have been expendable…”
“Yes, Sokolov will have to do better the next time, or he’ll be handed over unceremoniously to the Russians.”
Justin thought about it for a moment. “If Sokolov is pretending, it would be no loss to anyone—”
“Right,” Moretti said. “We’ll be avoiding a serious mistake.”
“But if we’re wrong…”
“That’s why we’re making sure we don’t make a mistake. If Sokolov wants protection, he won’t have a problem proving himself, again. The stakes are too high to believe him so easily.”
“Besides, we have the 24-hour deadline.” Justin glanced at the wristwatch. “Twenty-three now.”
“Yes, so highlight the urgency to our Russian friend.”
“I will do that. Now, can we talk about the dissident?”
“Sure.”
Justin told Moretti about his plans to move her to Estonia and perhaps to another country. He suggested that Erik escort her to safety and provide security for the first couple of days. Justin also noted his suspicions about a potential hacking software in Drugova’s cellphone and promised to send the phone to headquarters for further investigation by the cybersecurity team. Finally, considering he was short-staffed, as Arian was still dealing with the aftermath of the airport operation, Justin asked for more resources.
“And who do you have in mind?” Moretti asked. His voice had a tinge of cheerfulness, as if he knew Justin’s reply.
“Carrie,” he said, referring to Carrie O’Connor, his usual partner in covert operations.
“Hmmm, I’m not sure she can make it, Justin.”
He wanted to ask about her assignment, but there was little chance his boss would tell him. “I understand she’s occupied, but this should take priority. I’m a one-man show, which is fine, at the moment. Depending on what Sokolov tells me, and what the Russians decide to do, I might, no, I will need backup.”
Moretti didn’t reply for a long moment.
Justin interpreted the silence as his opportunity to try to convince his boss. “Carrie’s presence is paramount to this operation. The Russians have given us a deadline, but that doesn’t mean they’ll wait until the end—”
“Yes, yes, I understand that, Justin, and I’m not arguing with you. Carrie’s running a sensitive op, but I’ll see if I can pull her out.”
“Okay.”
“In the meantime, I’ll get a couple of people from the Vienna station.”
“Anyone I’ve worked with before?”
“Yes, Vale and Dolina.”
Justin smiled. “It will be a pleasure to see them again. Haven’t run an op with Vale since Cyprus and the cover-up mission.”
“Yes, I’m sure he’ll like the change of pace. They both expressed their frustration that they were getting rusty.”
“Helsinki will give them plenty of change.”
“All right, Justin. I’ll call you when I know about Carrie. Send me a sit report, and update me on Sokolov’s next intel briefing.”
“Will do.”
Justin ended the call, picked up his coffee, and walked out of the café. At the intersection a few paces away, he flagged a taxi and asked the driver to take him to the Canadian embassy. Let’s see what else we can extract from our Russian defector.
Chapter Eleven
Donbass Region
Eastern Ukraine
Carrie stepped closer to the detainee and cocked her Sig Sauer P320 9mm pistol. “I’m going to ask you for the last time: We need safe passage.”
The detainee, the commander of a local separatist militia group, shook his head. “Your threats are nothing compared to what the Russians will do to me…”
Carrie placed her pistol against the man’s forehead. It was sheened with sweat. Blood was trickling from a deep cut above his right eye, the result of a series of blows from Carrie’s local partner. Justified, in her opinion, considering the commander and his lackeys had tried to kill Carrie and her partner only minutes ago. They had stormed the militants’ base, and, through the advantage of surprise and their superb training, they had eliminated the commander’s five armed gunmen. “Before you make your final decision, I want you to listen to something.”
She gestured to her partner, who made a call on his cellphone. He brought it to Carrie, and she said in English, “No, nyet , I don’t speak Ukrainian or Russian, but I have someone here who does.” She looked at the commander. “It’s your daughter. She seems very upset. Do you want to talk to her?”
“Yes, give me—”
Carrie tapped him slightly with the pistol’s barrel. “Don’t forget who gives the orders. And no games. Say nothing in code. He speaks your language.” She tipped her head toward her partner, a tall, black-haired man, who had pointed an AK rifle at the commander.
He nodded slowly. “I just want to talk to her, reassure her—”
“Yes, but words can only go so far… If you don’t give the order, very bad things will happen to your little sweetheart…”
The commander tightened his facial muscles, but said nothing.
Carrie said, “Relax. It’s only a possibility, at the moment. Make the right choice, if not for you, for your daughter…”
The commander said, “Yes, I will do that. Can I … can I talk to her now?”
Carrie smiled. “Of course you can.”
She gestured for her partner to step closer to the commander. His hands were tied behind his back, so Carrie placed the phone next to his ear. Her partner leaned over the detainee, so that he could hear both sides of the conversation.
The commander talked for less than a minute, assuring his daughter that she was going to be okay. Carrie had told the commander only a small part of the truth. He learned the rest from his daughter. She was being detained at her friend’s house by two local operatives dispatched by Carrie. If the commander didn’t give the order to allow safe passage to the team “visiting” him, then his daughter would disappear. For a while. Then, he would receive pieces of her, one at a time.
The commander swallowed hard as his daughter’s words sank in. “How … how do we do this?”
“You’re asking the right question. You’ll get us out of town, through the checkpoints and beyond. Once we reach the frontline, southwest of Donetsk, we’ll let you go back.”
Donetsk was in the area controlled by the Ukrainian government forces. The separatists had reached a tentative ceasefire the previous evening. Carrie and her partner had taken advantage of the truce to in
filtrate the militant-controlled area in order to rescue an asset. The young man had been crucial in providing the Western forces operating in Ukraine with reliable intelligence about the number and movement of Russian troops, as well as local militiamen supporting them.
“How do I know you will let me go free? What guarantees do I have about my daughter?”
Carrie stooped down so that she could be at the commander’s eye level. “You have my word. Once we’re safe, you and your daughter will be safe as well.”
He licked his parched lips and said nothing.
Carrie produced a Kleenex from one of her pockets and wiped the trickle of blood dripping along the commander’s left cheek. “Look, this is the best deal for all of us.”
“We have to go.” Her partner looked through the dark curtains.
“Is anyone coming?”
“Not yet. But they will.”
Carrie locked eyes with the commander. “How much do you love your daughter?”
He still said nothing, but her words seemed to have jolted him. The commander stood up straight and said, “Uncuff me.”
“Do it,” Carrie said to her partner. “And bring him down.” She picked up her AR-105 rifle and walked out of the room.
Down on the ground floor, she stopped for barely a moment to retrieve a magazine from one of the dead gunmen. Their bodies had already been cleaned of all valuables, cellphones, wallets, and other items with any intelligence value. Carrie had four magazines on her chest rig, but she didn’t feel it was enough. We have too much ammo, said no one ever in a combat sit.
Out in the alley, she headed toward their car. It was a battered Lada sedan, unappealing to thieves, and one which wouldn’t draw any second glances from passersby. But the Lada’s engine was new, along with the tires, and everything was in fully functioning order. The vehicle had been recently tuned up and was ready for their thirty-mile trip in hostile territory.
Carrie glanced at the man sitting low in the backseat and pointing an AK rifle at her. “It’s all good. He’s coming with us. Get to the front.”
The young man nodded. He dragged his right foot behind him, uselessly, as he switched seats.
Carrie sat in the back, behind the asset, and held open the other door. In less than ten seconds, her partner ushered the commander into the seat next to Carrie. She pulled out her pistol and rammed it into his right side.
“Is that necessary? I told you I’d cooperate.”
“Insurance policy. In case you change your mind, when you see all the armed men surrounding us and become brave…” She hid the pistol underneath her coat, then leaned closer to the commander. Then she turned on the cabin light.
Carrie’s partner started the Lada, and they drove slowly through the back alley. The gunfire must have drawn the attention of the neighbors, but no one had dared to approach the commander’s three-story villa. It sat at a distance of about a hundred yards from the nearest houses, and Carrie was certain that gunfire coming from that house, or most of the houses in town, was nothing new.
Separatist forces demanding an independent republic or the unification of the area with Crimea—a region that Russia annexed in 2014—had been fighting government forces for over six months. The clashes were small and sporadic, because the earlier conflict had received a great amount of international attention. Peace negotiations had failed, and both sides were entrenched in their positions, biding their time, until a conflict flared up in another part of the world, somewhere where oil flowed freely, or where geopolitical interests of the world’s superpowers intersected. Then, when the world had forgotten about Ukraine, the fighters could wage an all-out war.
The cabin light would help any curious neighbors, who were also active or passive supporters of the separatist movement, to notice the commander moving through town, in the cozy company of an auburn-haired Caucasian woman and two guards. No reason to panic or sound the alarm. At least not yet. That would come when someone discovered the dead bodies and the missing commander. By that time, Carrie hoped that her team would be long gone and beyond any grave danger.
But she knew it wasn’t over…
Chapter Twelve
Inside the Canadian Embassy
Pohjoisesplanadi Street
Helsinki, Finland
“What do you mean it’s not enough?” Sokolov threw up his hands.
“What I just said. Do you have trouble understanding my words?”
“No, I have trouble understanding your logic.”
“It’s not my logic, it’s my boss’s, and I happen to agree with it.”
“You do?”
“Yes, it’s easy to follow: What if you’re a double, feed us misinformation, bad intel, to derail our efforts…”
“Why would I do that?”
Justin pulled up the chair and sat in front of Sokolov in the small conference room. “Where do I start with the reasons?”
Sokolov shook his head. “No, no, I mean, I’m not doing that. Look at what happened when I attempted to escape! I almost got killed.” He showed Justin the bandaged arm and placed it back on the table. It made a small thud, and Sokolov’s face pulled back into a wince. “They tried to kill me in my car, then chased me through half of Helsinki…”
Justin shrugged. “Minor wound, barely a scratch. Could be easily arranged to look like a real attempt on your life.”
“And the shootout? All the assassins?”
“They were all bad shots?”
“What, have you never survived a gunfight?”
Justin shook his head. “Never been hunted down by my own agency, as you pretend is the case…”
“Pretend?” Sokolov’s face drew back, showing his disappointment. “You don’t trust me either…”
“I told you: I agree with my boss. The second reason is the story about the dissident. Too easy.”
“How so?”
“Low hanging fruit of little value. An easy target that can be eliminated at any time…”
“What about the dead assassin?”
“Survival of the fittest … If he was good, he would have escaped.”
Sokolov shook his head and slumped back in his chair. “What do I have to do to convince you, fully convince you of my genuine desire to cooperate?”
Justin smiled and nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere. We need something that will cost the SVR a lot. Something of a high price. A double agent, no, let’s make that two.”
“Two double agents?”
“Yes. Two.” Justin gestured with his right hand as if his words were unclear. “You claim to have special access to the Kremlin and contacts in the Russian president’s office. Prove it to us. It shouldn’t be difficult to find two double agents.”
“It’s harder than you think. The SVR knows I’ve turned … They have started the cleanup, erasing all traces of operations about which I might have knowledge.”
“Even the SVR can’t erase everything in an hour. Find a couple of agents that are well-embedded, whose treason we can prove easily and quickly. Within the next hour, so we don’t eat up too much time. There’s a deadline…”
“What deadline?” Sokolov peered at Justin and crows’ feet formed next to his eyes.
“Your friends at the SVR have given us twenty-four hours to hand you back.”
“No. You’re not thinking—”
“Oh, we’re thinking it. The SVR is threatening to attack our embassy—”
“What? They can’t, they won’t do that…”
Justin craned his head and gave Sokolov a sideways glance. “Do you know that for a fact?”
“Eh, no. But it makes no sense. The repercussions alone—”
“I’ve seen the people that SVR is going to use. Mercenaries, hired thugs, without uniforms. Absolute deniability.”
Sokolov nodded slowly.
Justin studied the defector’s face. No traces of any deception, but Justin knew that a trained operative like Sokolov would be able to suppress any and all emotions. He’
d be able to lie to the devil himself and get away with it. Of course, Justin could administer a lie detector, but again, the results wouldn’t be conclusive. Besides, Sokolov, like all well-trained, highly skilled operatives across intelligence agencies, was trained to beat lie detectors.
Justin said, “The deadline highlights the urgency of the matter. Two double agents. Shouldn’t be too difficult. You claimed to have names of operatives across Europe—”
“Yes, but I said nothing of double agents…”
“I’m sure you can manage something valuable.”
Sokolov drew in a deep breath. “This is a lot you’re asking of me.”
“Not really. You came to our door with an offer—”
“Which you haven’t accepted—”
“Which we’re evaluating. So far, it’s inadequate. You don’t have to do anything. You can leave it at that. And we can escort you out of the building. Is that what you want?”
Sokolov groaned. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, how else should I make it clear that you have full control over your choices? You want a ‘yes.’ Help me get you that.”
Sokolov heaved out a deep sigh. He thought about it for a moment, while he folded his arms across his chest. He began to shake his head, then he seemed to change his mind. He leaned forward and said, “Hand me your phone. I’ll give you two names.”
“Good decision.” Justin reached for his phone.
“But it’s the last thing I give you for free. After this, you and your bosses will have to make up your mind.” Sokolov’s voice was firm and strong.
“I can’t promise you that.”
“I can. If I don’t get protection, I’m walking out of the embassy.”
Justin unlocked his phone and slid it across the table. He peered deep into Sokolov’s eyes. He was giving the Canadian operative an intense gaze. “I will do it, Justin. I won’t sit here and be squeezed of intel and then thrown to the wolves.”
“You’d rather throw yourself to the wolves?”
“No, I’d rather live in peace in Canada, start a family… But if you take away that option, I’m left with nothing else…” Sokolov’s voice rang with true regret and disappointment.
