Daniel stared out into the backyard at the thick screen of uneven pine trees that formed a natural private barrier in the quaint neighborhood. He sat down at a small stone table and placed his satellite phone on the cold, rough granite surface. He weighed the options if Sanderson didn't answer. Fuck it. They had delivered Reznikov to the United States at the cost of three operatives, which was more than anyone could possibly expect from them, given their status as fugitive terrorists.
He dialed Sanderson's number, fully expecting to walk back into the safe house and gather his men for an immediate departure. Sanderson answered on the first ring.
"Daniel! I have good news."
"I don't. Where the fuck have you been?"
"I had to entertain a few guests. About a hundred or so."
"You sound in good spirits, so I assume they didn't stay."
"They departed about fifty minutes ago. SEALs and marines from the USS BOXER Expeditionary Strike Force. A remarkable show of force I must say. Unfortunately for them, nobody was home."
"Thank God. I was worried about Jessica. I haven't been able to get in touch with her."
"Jessica wasn't here. She's in Buenos Aires. I need to tell you something that I purposely withheld from you earlier. I didn't want you to be distracted."
"Somehow, I have the distinct feeling I'm not going to like what I hear."
"By the end of this conversation, you'll be very pleased. Trust me. First, Jessica is fine, but Srecko's people found her."
"What?"
"She's fine, but she went through one hell of an ordeal and will need some time to recover. They grabbed her in your apartment. I had you and Jessica under twenty-four-hour surveillance in Buenos Aires. Call it a training exercise. Munoz and Melendez barely got her out of there."
"I need to talk to her immediately."
"She's in a safe place. Her left hand was damaged, but she'll be fine. We have the best people looking after her," Sanderson said.
Daniel stayed silent for a few seconds. When the expected tirade from Sanderson about how their trips to Buenos Aires had jeopardized the Black Flag program didn't materialize, he jumped back in the conversation.
"I'm glad they were there to help her. Two of the best we have. I owe them big time. Did she sound all right?"
"Still groggy from the pain medications. They had to do some work on her hand. You know how she is. I'd expect a full recovery."
"Yeah. She's surprisingly resilient," he said. "So, what was the good news you were so eager to share?"
"I thought you'd never ask. I'm holding a verified and legally binding immunity agreement from the president of the United States. We're no longer fugitives from the law."
"You've got to be shitting me. How the hell did you pull that off?"
"A combination of many factors, which included the fact that they had to leave one of their helicopters behind due to a mechanical failure…caused by a .50 caliber armor-piercing bullet. The administration wasn't very keen on having this raid exposed to the international media. Doesn't look good when you're caught trying to erase all evidence of the covert operatives you just sent on a shooting and kidnapping spree throughout Europe."
"You're a diabolical genius. Is this really binding? We can return to the U.S. without any repercussions?"
"It binds the federal government. The individual states typically respect the terms of these agreements, but I wouldn't plan any trips to Maryland or Maine any time soon. Beyond that, you're free to return under your original identity."
"That's simply amazing."
"How is Leo doing?" Sanderson said.
"He needs reconstructive surgery. Berg is working on a way to move him out of the country. Other than that, he's shaken pretty badly, but he'll be fine. Reznikov is the one I'm worried about," Daniel said.
"When will he be ready for an interrogation?"
"Probably not until late in the afternoon. He's a fucking mess. Alcohol poisoning and atrial fibrillation. Not a good combination. I've passed everything in the notebook to the CIA. My plan is to interrogate Reznikov for further leads. I found a crumpled note with the words 'German distribution company' on it. I'm willing to bet he knows more about this company."
"Do whatever it takes to get this information," Sanderson said.
"Is that an order from you or the CIA?"
"From me, though I plan to formally hand over control of your team to Berg at some point in the day. If my instincts are correct, our services won't be dismissed in the middle of this crisis, and I intend to continue delivering results."
"You really think they'll officially bring you back into the fold?" Petrovich said.
"I don't want them to. That's the quickest path to destruction. I learned that the hard way. We all did. I'd prefer to keep running this in the shadows and give them the illusion of plausible deniability. They can use us when they need us. The last thing I need is an office in the Pentagon with a placard announcing our presence."
"I don't think you'll get a warm and fuzzy reception at the Pentagon after Farrington's stunt."
"Oh…I wouldn't be so sure about that. Daniel, you've exceeded my expectations again, which is now something I've come to expect. Pass on my congratulations to the rest of the team and my condolences for the loss of Sergei and Schafer. We paid a high price for Reznikov."
"I'll make sure Reznikov was worth that price. How do I get in touch with Jessica?"
"I'll give you the number. It's still early here, so give her some time to rest. Call me when the interrogation is finished."
"Understood."
Daniel looked back at the house and wondered if the doctors had something they could administer right now to bring Reznikov around. The quicker he finished this interrogation, the sooner he could be on a flight back to Argentina.
Chapter 57
Karl Berg rested at one of the computer stations with his head down. He just needed about fifteen minutes to reboot his brain. He'd been racing in overdrive for the better part of forty-eight hours and it had finally caught up with him. Reznikov's capture had kicked off a series of events that kept them trapped in the Operations Center. Twelve European addresses were found on the scraps of paper collected by Petrovich. Ramblings in Reznikov's notebook had implied that these were locations mentioned by the Al Qaeda operatives at the Kurchatov laboratory. Apparently, Reznikov could understand Arabic.
They had spent the last five hours coordinating with the intelligence services of eight different European countries to direct the simultaneous raid of the addresses gathered. Less than forty minutes ago, law enforcement agents in France, Germany, Sweden, Denmark, Italy, Netherlands, Spain and the U.K. had kicked down doors to find the locations abandoned. The apartments had been left spotless, with the exception of the Copenhagen and Stockholm flats, which had been trashed. Berg now agreed with Petrovich's assessment of Reznikov's suicidal mental state.
The crazed Russian had probably gone to each of the Scandinavian locations with the intention of stealing some of the virus back from Al Qaeda. Copenhagen was an easy seven-hour drive from Stockholm. Now it was obvious that Al Qaeda had changed their game plan, which pushed the investigation into the next desperate phase. They would have to rely on Black Flag's interrogation to uncover another link. The most promising lead appeared to be Reznikov's reference to a German medical supply company.