The mutter of the holograph's activation pulled Saxon's attention away, and he watched as a vector-scan model of a blunt, modernist building sketched itself in the air before them.
Jaron Namir stepped up to the edge of the nimbus of laser glow; the colors threw stark highlights over his craggy features. "Intelligence has located one of our high-value targets," he began. "Here. The Hotel Novoe Rostov, off Zubovskaya Square." He touched a control and the image blurred, re-forming into a series of phantom panes. Several of them showed digital photos of a heavyset man with a beard and thinning hair.
"This is the mark. Mikhail Kontarsky, a minister of the Russian federal assembly, and senior administrator of the RFS committee on human augmentation policy."
Saxon raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.
"This man is corrupt to the core" Namir went on. "He's betrayed his country and the people who elected him. Kontarsky has been suborned by an organization called Juggernaut. What we know of them is this: they are a decentralized anarchist terror group that uses information warfare to further an antiglobalization agenda. Neutralizing Kontarsky is a first step toward eradicating these dangerous militants, and it will deny them a conduit into the Russian Federated States."
The Juggernaut name was familiar to Saxon. He recalled intelligence briefings from his time with Belltower; one of the targets of the group had been Tai Yong Medical, a major client for the PMC's security division.
"So the Russkies are incapable of dealing with Kontarsky themselves?" said Hardesty, throwing a look toward Federova, who ignored it. "Why do we have to intervene?"
"Because the man is a point of instability, in a kleptocracy masquerading as a government." Namir paged through more images. "Kontarsky is a wild card. He has many friends in the duma-the parliament… That's why Juggernaut has turned him. He has to be removed."
"That would mean terminated," Hermann asked, "if we are being clear?"
Namir nodded once. "Make no mistake, we are dealing with a dangerous man here. Kontarsky is connected to several Russian organized crime syndicates. He's no choirboy."
Saxon peered at the screens, catching glimpses of elements from the politician's file, evidence of corruption and money laundering scrolling past his eyes.
"Mission data is being downloaded to your personal stacks," said Namir. "Draw weapons for a covert urban assault from the armory, and assemble on the tarmac in five minutes for deployment."
Saxon followed Hermann aft, turning the briefing over in his mind. "Taking down a member of the Russian ministry… Am I the only one who has questions about that?"
The German threw him a look. "If Kontarsky is a target, I trust the reasons are sound."
"Do you?" Saxon hesitated. "You've been with the outfit longer than me. Don't you wonder who gives the orders?"
"Namir gives the orders," Hermann said flatly.
"But who gives them to Namir?"
The other man walked on. "It is not something I trouble myself with, Saxon. Sometimes it is necessary to operate in the shadows to maintain the status quo. That is what we do."
"But still-"
"Still what?" Saxon turned to find Namir standing behind him. "Do you need a reason, Ben?
Look at Kontarsky's files. He's not an innocent man."
Saxon paused, studying the Israeli. "Who is?" In such close quarters, his thoughts couldn't help but turn again to wondering who would prevail if the two of them faced off. It would be an even match, Saxon thought. At first.
Namir glanced over Saxon's shoulder as Hermann passed through into the aft compartment, leaving them alone for the moment. "Juggernaut is a clear and present danger to global stability. They have to be dealt with. You understand that, yes?"
"I understand that someone is threatened by them," Saxon replied. "Tai Yong Medical? Others, maybe?" It was a clumsy attempt to gauge a reaction, and he knew it, but Namir gave him nothing.
"Have you ever wondered why Belltower's intel during Rainbird was so wrong?" The question came out of nowhere, and Saxon blinked.
"Juggernaut are info-terrorists, Ben. Along with all the other brushfire wars and proxy conflicts they have a hand in, they're working with the
Australian Free States. Conducting pay-for-play cyberwarfare on their behalf, compromising data security, disrupting intelligence gathering.
The men Kontarsky is working with are the ones responsible for your squad dying out there in the desert." Namir paused to let that sink in. "Is that reason enough for you?" he asked gently.
CHAPTER FOUR
NYPD 10th Precinct-New York City-United States of America
The coffee helped, but not enough. It was strong and tar-black, and it tasted awful, but the stew of day-old caffeine and stale sugar gave Kelso something to focus on.
The metal chair she sat upon, its twin across the way, and the table bolted to the floor were all the interview room had that could be considered furniture. The polymer cuff around her right hand was tethered to a loop in the tabletop, her other hand free to toy with the paper cup. Light came from a glow strip sealed behind armored glass, and high up over the lintel of the door across from her, the glassy fish-eye dome of a camera pod watched her, unblinking.
Anna knew things were going poorly when the cop who escorted her up from general holding didn't ask any questions. He just secured her, gave her the coffee, and left. Now she was marking time until the door opened again.
As if the thought of it were enough to make it happen, the metal hinges creaked and there stood the man she least wanted to see in the world.
Ron Temple threw a weak smile at the man by his side. "Thanks, Detective. I'll take it from here."
The other man eyed Anna, and walked away without a word. Temple dropped heavily into the vacant chair as the door locked shut behind him, placing a silver briefcase on the desk. He was tired, eyes bloodshot, still wearing the big, high-collared greatcoat he sported on the streets of D.C.
Anna imagined he'd come straight here, after he heard.
"What the fuck are you doing, Kelso?" he asked in a low, weary voice. Anna blinked; she couldn't recall Temple ever cursing like that before in front of her. He went on. "Do you have any idea of the kind of depths of shit you are in? No, don't bother to answer that. Of course you do.
Because you're an agent of this nation's highest-profile law enforcement agency, and not an idiot."
"I had my reasons," she managed.
"This is not a conversation!" he thundered, his annoyance bubbling over. "You do not get to justify this kind of stupidity!" Temple hesitated, and looked up over his shoulder at the camera eye. The indicator light showing that the monitor was active winked out, and he turned back to face her. His expression was conflicted; anger in there along with disappointment, sadness, and other things she couldn't read.
"You've put the Service at risk, Anna. Not just yourself, but all of us. I've had to call in a dozen markers from the NYPD to make this go dark, do you understand? As far as our flatfoot cousins are aware, your little excursion up here was a deep cover surveillance operation, and that's how it's going to stay. I'm damned sure I don't want New York's finest figuring out that an agent of the United States Secret Service was conducting an illegal, unsanctioned investigation!"
"It was the only way…"
He went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I know about everything. After I got the call, it all started to make sense. I had Drake and Tyler trawl your files. You've been using your access to the DOJ network and Nat Crime databases to pursue unlawful searches, hiding it from all of us while you let your actual assignments slide."