"Yeah," Berg said.
"I need to talk to him immediately," she said, and her tone attracted the attention of Thomas Manning.
"Something wrong?" he said, walking over to meet her near Berg.
"Possibly. Thomas, I'm going to need some privacy."
He looked at her quizzically.
"For your own protection," she added.
"I think we're well past the point of plausible deniability. I just authorized and witnessed a covert operation that left twelve dead bodies on a city street in Stockholm. I think I'm fully vested in whatever mess the two of you have created, though I get the distinct impression that this would have gone down with or without my approval."
"Fair enough," she said and took the phone from Berg.
"This is Audra Bauer. National Clandestine Service deputy director. Have you talked to your boss recently?"
"I briefly spoke with him less than five minutes ago. We've been a little preoccupied if you haven't noticed."
"I just tried both of his satellite numbers, and he didn't respond."
"Then have Berg call. He may not pick up unknown numbers. Especially government lines."
"I have reason to believe he might have company at the compound very soon. It's possible that he's already entertaining them," she said.
"He sounded fine to me. What has you so spooked, if you'll pardon the expression?" Daniel said.
"I just learned that the president of the United States and pretty much his entire National Security Council just went into a sealed situation room with the director of the FBI and JSOC's commanding general. One of the time zone clocks somewhere in the White House Situation Room is set to a small town named Zapala. Ever been there?" she said.
"I need to make a call," he responded.
"You need to promise me you'll see your current mission through to the end, no matter what happens to your boss."
"I'll get Reznikov to the safe house alive."
The line went dead, and Audra handed Berg the phone. "He'll try to reach Sanderson. This couldn't be happening at a worse time. We need these operatives focused on Reznikov. I'm worried they'll go rogue if Sanderson is apprehended or killed."
"General Sanderson? Holy shit. These are Sanderson's people? The people you were supposed to be helping the FBI find?" Manning said, shaking his head in despair.
"Sanderson's team got us this far, which is way further than we could have gone with our own assets. We just need to keep Sanderson out of custody until we can take possession of Reznikov. The Russian holds the key to figuring out exactly who else has possession of this virus. He mass produced this stuff in Kazakhstan for someone. Probably Al Qaeda. With the right motivation, he should be able to help us start to unravel this plot," Berg said.
"I suppose we need Sanderson's men to apply the proper motivation?"
"Unless you want to wait for a covert interrogation team to fly into Sweden," Bauer said.
"Looks like all of our eggs are in Sanderson's basket," Manning said. "Do you have any other way to get in touch with him?"
"No. He normally picks up our calls immediately, regardless of the time. Let me try," Berg said.
"Well, I hope he's out sleep walking. Preferably several miles from wherever this compound is located. How did we not know about this operation?"
"Frederick Shelby didn't agree with Karl's assessment of what happened two years ago at the Georgetown safe house and several other aspects of the CIA's involvement. He pretty much shut us out of Agent Sharpe's ongoing investigation, which I had become convinced was going nowhere," Bauer said.
"Clearly we're not the only ones that can keep a secret. I just hope you're not keeping any more from me," Manning said.
Berg looked up from his cell phone and shook his head. "Nothing," he said and started to dial another number.
"Did you get a hold of him?" Berg said into the phone.
Karl Berg listened to the reply carefully before speaking.
"Daniel, just get Reznikov to the safe house and I swear to you we'll help you find her. She's not going to disappear. You have my word."
The phone call ended and Berg glanced at Audra. "Maybe this is a good time to tell Thomas who we have escorting Reznikov to our safe house."
"Thirty seconds!" the crew chief screamed over the artificially created wind storm buffeting the inside of the helicopter.
Through the AN/PVS-14 night vision system attached to his Kevlar helmet, Lieutenant Commander Scott Daly saw the helicopter gunners energize their GAU-17/A miniguns. He could even hear the electric whine of the barrels over the turbulence created by their 140 mile per hour dash to LZ Sand Box. He knew the same scene was visible to a select group thousands of miles away. He'd grown accustom to the presence of this distant audience, as recent advances in technology had put most of their high profile operations on large screen monitors in several locations back in the United States. He rarely thought about the small night vision capable camera mounted next to the AN/PVS-14 system.
He edged closer to the crew chief, holding the starboard side overhead bar tightly with both hands. The cabin doors were wide open, and he didn't want to exit the bird prematurely while the pilots maneuvered them into position.
Daly glanced over his shoulder and saw Chief Petty Officer Warren Inderman take the same position on the port side. He couldn't see Inderman's face, but he knew the chief would be the first on the rope out of the door. He knew everything his men would do until they secured the armory. After that, it depended on how their situation developed. This was how they managed to work in complete darkness. By memory and instinct. As he moved toward the starboard side door, his feet and knees bumped up against the coiled fast-rope, which took up a considerable amount of the space in the already cramped troop compartment.
Already attached to a cabin anchor bar that extended one foot beyond the door, the one-and-three-quarter-inch-thick, sixty-pound rope would be muscled through the hatch by Petty Officer Jake Ellison as soon as they settled over their designated insertion point. Daly would wait for the crew chief to confirm that the rope hit the ground before giving the order to deploy. The helicopter generated a significant static electricity charge in flight, and despite the fact that their ropes had been specifically designed as non-conducive, it remained standard procedure to let the rope hit first. Design variances in ropes had led to some unpleasant surprises in the past. Surprises that Lieutenant Commander Daly's SEAL's couldn't afford tonight.
He stared through the troop compartment into the cockpit and strained to make any sense of the view through the cockpit window. He thought he saw the dark field of pine trees change to a lighter view. Bright white sparkles resembling several simultaneous flashes caught his eye. From experience, he knew these were reflections off water, probably the river next to the LZ. He raised the AN/PVS-14 night vision from his face and prepared for the inevitable.
"Stand by!" the crew chief screamed.
He edged forward with the crew chief, leaving enough room for the coiled rope to be pushed out by Petty Officer Ellison. Three men competed for room in the ridiculously small space offered by the open cabin door. The GAU-17A took up half of the space, leaving barely enough room for one fully equipped SEAL to pass through. He was eager to get out of the bird, but knew the crew chief had a job to do. He backed off far enough for the crew chief to poke his head out of the door. The helicopter descended suddenly and flared its nose upward, settling into a stationary hover.
"Deploy ropes!" the crew chief screamed, and Daly repeated the command into his own headset.