Berg laughed and reached over to meet Daniel’s bottle.
“More of a coincidence than anything. How is she doing?” Berg said.
“Better,” he said. “Oddly enough, the work we did a few weeks ago had a therapeutic effect on her.”
“I’m glad to hear that. She deserves a fair shot at putting as much of this behind her as possible,” Berg said.
“I hope the irony of that statement, compounded by your sitting here, isn’t lost on you,” Petrovich said.
“I’m not here to ask either of you back into the game. I need your consulting services for less than twenty-four hours. A short trip to Vermont for a reunion of sorts,” Berg said.
“I’m pretty sure all of the ski resorts are closed at this point.”
“This trip won’t require a doctor’s note. Sanderson agrees that your presence will make a big difference…”
“The last time I came out of retirement for Sanderson, we ended up on the run in South America.”
“And that series of events put you in a position to stop one of the worst terrorist attacks in history,” Berg finished.
“And nearly killed Jessica,” Petrovich said.
Berg took an extra-long swig of beer, which signified that Daniel had struck a nerve with the comment about Jessica. He knew that Berg served as her training mentor at the CIA, eventually recommending her for assignment to the Special Activities Division (SAD). Berg would have been in a position to monitor her progress against a carefully constructed psychological profile. Letting her board an airplane for Paris had been a tragic miscalculation. Traces of Jessica still existed when he found her in Belgrade, but most of them were buried deep inside the hard, superficial shell known as Zorana Zekulic. The young college student he had fallen deeply in love with several years earlier had gone into hibernation. Saving Jessica became his primary mission in Serbia, and in rescuing her, he ensured his own survival. Berg’s show of concern for her came fifteen years too late.
“Yeah. She’s spent most of her life one degree of separation away from something horrible,” Berg said.
Petrovich didn’t respond, letting the silence settle between them. Berg finished his beer before speaking.
“Anatoly Reznikov is cooperating with us to provide detailed information about Vektor Labs. I’m putting together an operation to destroy the bioweapons program at the facility, which will be led by your protégé, Richard Farrington. Sanderson would like you to represent Farrington at my next meeting with Reznikov. I’ll give you everything we have on Vektor so far, so you can put yourself in Farrington’s shoes and fill in the blanks. I’m also hoping that your presence has a unique psychological impact. I don’t want him holding anything back.”
“Surely he’s been exposed to nastier company than me by now,” Petrovich said.
“Not exactly.”
“Why do I get the distinct feeling I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear?”
“Given his deteriorated physical and mental condition, I couldn’t risk putting him in the hell hole he truly deserves to—”
“He deserves to be dead,” Petrovich stated.
“He’s been inside the bioweapons facility at Vektor, which makes him temporarily invaluable. I’ll take him for a long walk after we destroy Vektor.”
Petrovich turned his head slightly to look at Berg. The CIA officer stared out at the water, focused, but clearly troubled by something. Possibly disturbed by a fleeting image of what he’d just suggested. He had little doubt that Berg would tie up that loose end when the time was appropriate. He’d come to respect Jessica’s former mentor as a man of action and decisiveness. He just didn’t care to be sitting next to one of the agency instruments responsible for luring her away from him. Sadly for both of them, the promise of a prestigious and exotic career had been too much for her to resist…and he really couldn’t blame her. College had been the only bright spot in an ugly, depressing life as the only child of physically and mentally abusive parents. Out of one frying pan, right into another.
“I’ll make the trip. When is your next meeting with Reznikov?”
“Tomorrow morning. I have a charter plane waiting in Savannah. You can read over the files en route. I’ve booked hotel rooms in Burlington for tonight. It takes about two hours to get out to the site, so we need to start early. I can answer any questions on the way,” Berg said.
“I don’t suppose you can just give me the directions and I’ll meet you there?”
Berg laughed and shook his head. “The CIA has secrets, and then they have secrets. This facility doesn’t exist.”
“I’ve been to a few places like that in my career,” Petrovich said.
“I guarantee you’ve never been to a place like this,” Berg said, standing up and facing him.
“Now you have me curious. Jessica never spends more than an hour or two in town. I’ll be ready to leave when she returns. Should I walk next door?”
“Just step outside and wave. I’ll pick you up,” Berg said.
“Say hi to my guardian angel,” Petrovich said.
Berg stared at his broadening smile.
“She’s not the only one with a pair of binoculars and a healthy dose of paranoia. You shortened her hair and colored it black, but I recognized her immediately by the way she carries herself. Stockholm. Did I miss the fine print in my rental contract, or are these houses owned by the CIA?”
“Everything is owned by the CIA,” Berg said, turning toward the staircase.
“Certainly feels that way sometimes,” Petrovich grumbled.
“Where is she headed after her vacation?”
“To Argentina…then Russia. She’s part of the operation,” Berg answered.
“She’ll certainly fit in,” Petrovich said.
“That’s what I thought. See you in an hour or so.”
He watched Karl Berg amble down the stairs and onto the beach. The CIA officer immediately turned left and proceeded directly to the house next door, not even momentarily stopping to let a warm breeze pass over his face. He disappeared into the cottage, leaving Petrovich to wonder if Berg ever took a break from this work. He’d clearly purchased his tragic golf outfit at one of the airport tourist traps, which led him to believe that Berg was a stranger to leisure activity. The next twenty-four hours promised to be miserably interesting, not to mention the brief, tumultuous outburst he could expect from Jessica.
Chapter 15
Daniel Petrovich fidgeted in the front passenger seat of Karl Berg’s BMW 3 Series sedan and stared past the windshield at the sea of pine trees enveloping the road. He’d stayed up past midnight examining the Vektor files provided by Berg, continuing to arrive at the same conclusion. The U.S. would be better off bombing the site from a standoff distance. He knew this wasn’t an option, but Farrington’s team faced a serious challenge after destroying Vektor, traversing over 150 miles of unfamiliar territory with most of the Novosibirsk Oblast’s military hot on their trail. He didn’t see an easy way to handle the team’s withdrawal, unless the CIA could convince the president to invade Russian airspace and pick them up deep within Russian territory. Berg’s less-than-optimistic response to this suggestion indicated that the president was barely on board with the plan as it stood. He’d discuss this in detail with Sanderson after meeting with Reznikov. Farrington’s team would need a highly creative escape and evasion plan to get out of Russia alive.
The car slowed, and Berg scrutinized a handheld GPS unit, alternating his gaze between the GPS and the road ahead. He placed the small gadget in the center console and stared into the rearview mirror. Daniel watched him out of the corner of his left eye, curious about their next move. They had spent nearly two hours travelling northeast out of Burlington, trading one scenic, two-lane road for another, gradually downgrading the road quality as they delved deep into heavily forested territory. Now they were about to turn onto an unmarked road in Berg’s pristine silver BMW. Interesting.