“True. How long will it take you to retrieve the files?”
“I should be able to pass along the information sometime tomorrow. If you can wait that long.”
“We can wait. I’ll put my people in Moscow on notice. Your choice of drop method?”
“One time dead drop. I’ll call you with the location. Expect a digital format.”
“Digital. Not microfiche? I’m impressed,” Berg said.
“You’d have to dig the reader out of your museum, and I don’t want to delay the process. My cigarette is finished. Back to work.”
“You really should give up smoking. Takes years off your life,” Berg said.
“So does talking to you, but I still return your calls. I’ll be in touch.”
Berg replaced the receiver and smiled. This was good news. All of the pieces were falling into place. Within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, the operation would be on autopilot until exfiltration. Unfortunately, the final pieces of the “exfil” puzzle couldn’t be snapped into place until the very last moment. All he could do right now was move the pieces closer together. Even then, there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t be left without the last piece.
Chapter 26
Matvey Penkin turned in his black leather office chair and faced Valery, who was seated at a sleek metal conference desk toward the back of Penkin’s inner sanctum. Deep, rust-colored rays of light from the day’s fading sun streamed through the partially canted vertical blinds that covered the penthouse’s bullet-resistant windows, slicing across the rear wall to dissect his young associate.
“It’s done. We’ve found Reznikov,” he said.
“Unbelievable,” Valery said, looking up from his own laptop.
“Money and leverage works miracles,” Penkin said.
He’d spent more than a decade carefully collecting intelligence regarding the other brigadiers under his boss, filing the knowledge and evidence away for future use. The brigadier responsible for maintaining the bratva’s network of military contacts made a habit of underreporting the value of the military hardware that passed through his hands. He’d served their boss well, turning out an endless supply of hard-to-acquire weapons from unscrupulous and previously underpaid non-commissioned and commissioned army officers, but by Penkin’s estimation, he didn’t kick back nearly enough to Maksimov. Based on his own personal experience with their boss, there was simply no way the math worked out in his colleague’s favor. The only explanation was a clever system of underreporting.
This blackmail alone would have been enough to force his cooperation, but strong-arm tactics like that yielded short-term gains and longtime enemies. Penkin didn’t want to start a war, especially around such a controversial operation. He offered the brigadier a quarter of a million dollars, along with a gentle reminder that his cooperation was not optional. He got the message and took the money without asking a single question. Within several hours, he was back, requesting an additional fifty thousand dollars. Redirecting a Sixth Directorate GRU satellite apparently commanded a hefty price. The additional money was well worth the payoff.
Not only did the Sixth Directorate contact intercept the conversation, but more importantly, they were able to pinpoint the location of Reznikov’s satellite phone. Positioning the Russian SIGINT satellite among the geostationary government communications satellites dedicated to handling traffic out of Vermont and most of upper New England, proprietary software stolen from the Americans and installed aboard the satellite enabled a technological miracle that defied conventional navigation logic.
The software ordered the satellite to intermittently slow itself below geostationary orbital speed, while frequently altering course during the satellite call. Hundreds of minute adjustments were made throughout the duration of the satellite call, allowing the software to combine several navigational techniques in reverse to locate the L-Band satellite signal. By the end of the thirteen-minute call, they had narrowed his location down to a ten-kilometer by ten-kilometer area in northeastern Vermont.
The GRU contact even provided them with several high-resolution, multi-angle imagery overlays of the area. It took Penkin less than two minutes to identify the compound, which had been cleverly disguised to attract little attention from the sky. Unfortunately for Reznikov’s hosts, the compound turned out to be the only sizable cluster of buildings inside the search area. In fact, the CIA had done such a good job of isolating the compound from the outside world the nearest small cluster of houses sat more than twenty kilometers away on the outskirts of a tiny village called Lowell. Luck had smiled on them today. Then again, three hundred thousand dollars had a way of forcing anyone to smile.
“Take a look at this,” he said, beckoning Valery to join him.
Valery dragged one of the thick metal chairs from the table and placed it next to him. Penkin manipulated the computer mouse to display one of the satellite images on the center screen of his triple, thirty-inch flat-screen array. Sitting less than three feet away, the satellite image took up most of his field of vision, floating crisply in front of him. He magnified the image and quickly navigated to the compound located within the outlined search area. Even without Reznikov’s proposed partnership, knowledge of this location could turn a tidy profit on his investment. He could likely blackmail the CIA for a one-time payment far exceeding his three hundred thousand dollar stake. Of course, the CIA would raze the site and relocate the prisoners to an equally isolated and hidden compound. No. He had bigger plans for the information. More profitable, long-term plans.
“It looks like a mountain retreat. Very clever of them. Who else do you suppose they are hiding there?” he asked.
“Ha! My thoughts exactly,” Penkin hissed before continuing. “But we’ll have to stay focused on the grand prize. Washed-up dictators, terrorists or genocidal war criminals don’t hold a candle to our scientist. We may have to fly some specialized talent into America for this one. Our brothers in America are hardcore on the streets, but this is more of a military-style operation. Deep penetration, coordinated timing, multiple skill sets.”
“I know a group suitable for the job,” Valery said. “Semion recently recruited a team of former GRU Spetznaz. All six men served together for a number of years until their unit was subordinated to one of the military districts. Their battalion was slashed by military reforms. One of Semion’s associates put him in touch with the group’s leader. They’ve been working miracles for Semion.”
Penkin gave this some thought. He’d heard of this group. He encouraged his subordinates to actively pursue the recruitment of GRU Spetznaz. Their unique military-style training better suited the organization’s needs than the elite federal units. KGB and Interior Ministry Spetznaz displaced after the failed coup attempt against Mikhail Gorbachev routinely gave them more hassle than they were worth. Most of the KGB agents worth their salt had found employment in the newly formed Federal Security Service or the Federation Government. The rest plagued the streets already owned and run by the bratva.
The Russian military intelligence service (GRU) had become a fertile recruiting ground for the Solntsevskaya Bratva over the past decade. Trained for infiltration, sabotage and assassination, GRU Spetznaz brought an entirely new skillset to their group, expanding their range of criminal activity. Simple breakins and extortion were augmented by sophisticated heists and coordinated attacks in remote locations. The presence of former GRU Spetznaz in the bratva had been good for business. Their “business targets” no longer felt completely safe at their secure dachas outside of Moscow or their heavily guarded mansions within the city. Valery’s suggestion would be their best shot at retrieving Reznikov.