“What you’re saying is that it’s too perfect,” objected Stephen McGovern, the Agency’s ranking analyst for Eastern Europe. “That’s really a difficult argument, Jonathon. What would be the point?”
“The point would be to disrupt the NATO meeting. Showing that the country is unstable. Without, of course, having to go to the trouble of actually encouraging a coup.”
“It’s a lot of trouble,” said McGovern.
“Not very difficult to do,” said Reid. “The Russians break into the network and send a lot of messages. They get two divisions to move their units around. Bribe the right officer, and these trucks will drive to Paris. It’s no secret how badly most of these troops are paid.”
“But what would the point be?” said Edmund. “That’s the real question. Let’s say that it is fake — we’ll know it in a few hours.”
“A few hours’ indecision may be all it takes,” said Reid. “But we may only be seeing the opening act. There may be more. It may end up looking as if a coup was planned, and then aborted for some reason. And it’s not just us — every Western intelligence agency is seeing these intercepts. Even the French have them.”
“Well, that is an indictment,” said Edmund.
Everyone laughed.
The meeting proceeded quickly to the conclusion favored by the analysts: a coup might be under way in the Ukraine within a few hours. Reid succeeded only in getting them to emphasize the word “might” and add a few caveats to their alert. Given the tendency of the analysts to stay away from any definitive statement that might come back to haunt them, it wasn’t much of a victory.
Director Edmund stopped him at the door as he was leaving.
“If you have a moment, Jonathon.”
“Always for you, sir.” Reid stepped back as the others filed out.
“Whiplash was successful?” Edmund asked when they were alone.
“The action in Moldova eliminated everyone at the farm,” said Reid. “There were about a half-dozen people, Russians we think, and they all appear to have been associated with the Wolves.”
“Is it possible these intercepts were related to what they had planned?” said Edmund. The operation against the Wolves was still so secret that neither Reid nor Edmund had shared it with the others.
“I didn’t bring it up because the timing of this activity seemed wrong,” said Reid. “If there were a direct link, then we wouldn’t expect these messages until at least the day after tomorrow when the NATO ministers gather.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Edmund.
“Unless there’s something we’re missing.” Reid smiled. “It’s too pat. It seems so obvious I wouldn’t even give it to a junior officer as an exercise.”
“You do like complications,” said the director.
“A character flaw, I’m afraid. Hopefully, not fatal.”
64
The Black Wolf examined his face in the mirror. He didn’t look all that much like the dead man on the bed inside, but that wasn’t necessary — the people he had to fool wouldn’t be looking all that hard at him. All he had to do was look enough like the dead man that they wouldn’t bother with a second look until it was too late. Far too late.
Toward that end, he sprayed a little more gray into the side of his hair, dappling it with his fingers for a salt and pepper look.
Distinguished.
There was a knock on the outer door. The Black Wolf took his pistol from the counter and went to it.
“Yes,” he said, still speaking Polish.
“Wolf,” said the voice outside softly. He was speaking English.
“Black Wolf.”
“We are ready.”
The Black Wolf opened the door. Two of his assistants on the job — men he had not met until now — stood in the hallway. They were dressed in brown and gray suits, looking very much like the men he had killed earlier.
“Watches,” said the Black Wolf, holding his out.
They held out their arms and made sure their watches all had the same time. It was exactly 0432 local.
“We must be downstairs in exactly twenty-one minutes,” the Black Wolf told them. “It will take the car five minutes to arrive, and another ten for us to reach the Old State Castle. The others will meet us there. Are we ready?”
The men nodded.
“Let us proceed.”
65
Danny dropped a pair of bills on the front seat of the cab and hopped out, holding his small carryon bag under his arm as if it were a football. He had ten minutes to make the gate for his flight to Prague.
Impossible at most U.S. airports, even at this early hour. But the security at Kiev was extremely efficient — or incredibly lax, depending on your point of view. There were six different stations to handle the very light traffic, and the guards barely glanced at the X-ray screen as he tossed his bag on the conveyer belt. He stepped through the detector quickly, grabbed the bag, and trotted toward the gate where his plane to Prague was boarding.
He reached it just as the attendant was extending the rope. She smiled when she saw him, pulling it back as he held up his pass and ticket. She grabbed the printout, ripped it in half, and waved him through.
There were plenty of empty seats on the plane. Danny had his entire row to himself. He pushed his bag into the overhead compartment, then sat down and pulled out his sat phone and MY-PID ear set, wanting to check in with Washington to see what was going on.
He also wanted to talk to Zen, though he’d undoubtedly still be sleeping.
Nuri first.
Danny pushed an earphone into his right ear, then held the sat phone over it, pretending he was using the phone.
“Update on Nuri Lupo,” he asked the system.
“Lupo’s current status is undetermined.”
“Connect me with him.”
A few seconds passed.
“This is Nuri,” answered the CIA officer in a raspy voice. “Danny?”
“Are you OK?”
“Just barely. Two guys tried to bury me alive. They got away with a box. I’m pretty sure it belonged to the doctor. I don’t know what’s in it. I’m sorry — I’ll figure out where they went.”
“Get yourself checked out.”
“I’m fine.”
“Get some sleep at least.”
“I’m fine. Where are you going?”
“I’m playing a hunch in Prague.” Danny glanced around. The plane was moving. “You’ll have to get the whole story from Hera.”
“All right.”
Danny looked up to see the attendant walking toward him. The man wagged his finger.
“I gotta go,” he told Nuri.
“I’m sorry, sir, but cell phones must be turned off,” said the attendant. His English was thick with an accent that sounded Russian to Danny, but was actually Ukrainian.
Danny made a show of hitting the End transmit button. He pulled the phone down into his lap. Then, with the attendant behind him, he tapped out a text message to send to Zen.
ON WAY 2 PRAGUE. BE VERY, VERY CAREFUL. POS GRAVE DNGR. WILL EXPLAIN WHN ABLE.
— DNY
“Sir?”
“Just making sure it’s turned off,” said Danny, smiling apologetically. “Sometimes you have to hit it a second time and even a third. The button is kind of screwed up.”
The attendant scowled, then pointed to his headset.