Nathan knew Admiral Kamov was worried about this one; he could read him.
If it worried Kamov, then it sure worried him.
2
Nils Sondergaard walked into the café just a couple of blocks from Weibel Scientific. Nils was a young radar engineer, one of the best. He didn’t mention on his resume all manner of other interests he had, from microbiology and artificial intelligence to cosmology via quantum physics. His current project was an improved Doppler radar for a new missile system. Easy, tame stuff.
His real project was a secret just for him for now. It wasn’t finished yet, but it was getting there.
It had begun as an idea, a wild derivative of the stealth research and technology he worked with. He’d just taken it to its logical conclusion.
Secret projects didn’t get too many takers around here.
But in the meantime, if you’re in northern Europe looking for a quality Doppler radar, then Nils Sondergaard and Weibel Scientific Co have something you’d like to see.
Nils looked out of the café window on to the street; it was raining now in Allerod. The roads reflected the car’s lights and office displays in a windblown shimmery wet street cover. Just the same old wet Danish October.
“Same, Nils?” She’d owned the cafe since he been going there.
“Yes, Brigit, thanks.” He sat by the window.
Several minutes later, a swarthy looking girl with black hair covered by a woollen hat came in and sat at the same table.
“This place ok? You ok?”
“Yes. Both are fine.” He nodded, running his eye over the girl. A late twenties looker. Maybe she was from Iran, Turkey, Lebanon or Israel.
“Any recommendations?” she asked, pushing her scarf and woolly hat in her bag.
“The dark cake, I don’t know its name. That’s good.”
“I’ll have a try,” she said, going over to the counter to order. She came back with a coffee and a slice of the dark cake.
“It’s good,” she said with a half full mouth.
“It’s not a bad town either when it’s dry.” He gave her a faint smile.
What was going on? Was she trying to pick him up? He didn’t think so, but hard to say.
She nodded. “Copenhagen’s not far away. You lived here long?”
“Nine or ten years, since university. Have you been here long?”
She smiled. “No, I arrived here last night. From Yerevan via Paris.” She saw him frown. The young woman leaned forward. “Armenia. Yerevan’s in Armenia.”
“Not been there. I’ve seen pictures, it looks good.”
“So,” she looked into his eyes, “Nils Sondergaard of Weibel Scientific. Senior radar engineer. Denmark Technical University DTU. Read Electronics and Physics, about as good grades as it’s possible to get.” Nils tried to cover his amazement. “And now leading the team working on the radar for the Back-pass missile system.”
“How have I come to your attention? Miss…?”
“I’m Marjan Ghazaryan, that’s all you need to know. My employers,” he started to say something, but she cut him off, “have an interest in your work.” She fixed his gaze. “Not the work for Weibel, your other work.”
Nils shrugged. “I only work for Weibel.”
Marjan smiled knowingly. “Yeah, right. Look Nils, let’s just leave it, for now.”
The following night after work Nils made his way over the park green towards the café. The Armenian girl had stayed after he left, and they hadn’t arranged to meet again. He walked in and saw the girl sat to the rear.
“Hi.” He ordered his coffee and cake and sat by her. It wouldn’t do to sit elsewhere. Her mood had changed. She was suspicious and edgy, eyeing everyone who passed by.
“Had a bad day, Marjan?”
“No. A fucking worse one than that. It’s moving quicker than we thought. I’ve less time than I thought. We need some information from you.”
Nils rolled his eyes. “Ok, cut the shit,” he glared. “Who do you work for and what do you need from me? What’s this ‘other work’ crap?”
Marjan carried on looking into the street and spoke softly. “Your other work involves visiting online forums. Swapping information and chunks of math.”
“Yeah, if you mean Zoomeye and all the other linked places?”
“We do. We’ve been listening in to you.”
“And who’s ‘we’?”
She looked at him with a smirk. “I work for Israeli intelligence. Our Sig-Int people at Unit 8200 in the Negev desert have been following you and your contacts. Unit 8200 is akin to the NSA in the US, or the signals unit of PET here in Denmark. We have an idea of what you are working on; your work has been seen by our specialists. Your contacts on these forums.” She looked at him with her head tilted to one side. “Nils, you know Zelda-Pbook? She’s from Croatia and has two cats.”
“Yes,” he said cautiously.
“Zelda is actually two middle-aged men in Chelyabinsk Siberia,” she said, “and ChrisAA32 is three or four young officers in the SVR.”
“What?”
“Yes, Nils,” Marjan patted the back of his hand. “They’re all working for Russian intelligence, either SVR or FSB.”
“That’s mad.”
“You’ve been asked to meet someone, yes?”
“Yes, Zelda says her cousin is visiting Copenhagen. I’m going to show her around.”
Marjan laughed. “You’ll probably be met by two SVR men and within hours you’ll be in Russia.”
“You can’t just capture someone on the city street like that. The police…”
She looked at him with some pity. “If the SVR wants you in Russia, that’s where you’re going. Look Nils, work is going on to set up a safe place and to get you there.”
Nils frowned. “Ok, what’s the problem? Assuming all this shit is real. Why can’t I just leave with you tomorrow and fly off somewhere?”
She shook her head. “There are reasons.” He raised his eyebrows, and she looked away. “Ok, jurisdiction issues.” She shrugged in that self-deprecating Jewish way, and he laughed.
“So, they’re fighting over me?”
“It’s complex, you’re under protection.”
Nils smiled. “So, there are PET undercover people watching over me?”
Marjan shook her head. “It’s not something we trust anybody else with. Mossad is around, keeping a lookout. It’ll get sorted out, trust me. We’ll get you to safety Nils.”
The two of them sat quietly with two coffees. Brigit, the owner, looked at them briefly and smiled to herself. It’s good that Nils is getting on with a girl; he’s a decent man and deserves some luck.
“Drink up, Nils,” said Marjan. “You’re taking me for a beer.”
“I am?”
She nodded and stood. He followed her out. “We’ll go to Gustav’s, ok?”
“It’s your town, I’ll go where you say.”
Leo stood further back in the shadows. “They’re going, look Serge.”
“We’ll follow, keep back. I wonder who that slag is that he’s with.”
“We don’t want her. Moscow gave us a green light to take him back with us. What do they want with some Danish scientist engineer?”
“They piss around, Leo, and then everything is rush about like there’s no tomorrow. That’s the way it is, SVR’s always been the same. Come on, but keep back.”
Nils and Marjan walked off down the wet street. A light rain fell and created a wet sheen that reflected street and shop lights. Serge followed at a safe distance. After two turns, the couple walked along an old street with cobbled stone paving. After 50 yards they entered Gustav’s bar. The bar was covered with stained glass windows, allowing the light to fall coloured onto the street, but the inside was shrouded.