Chapter 31
Sanderson stood alone in the worn hillside lodge, stoking a dying fire. He’d probably be up most of the night, waiting for the final word from Munoz. The general’s suspicion had been right about Jessica’s mother. More like an instinct. Mostly self-preservation. He simply couldn’t afford the numerous risks presented by the capture of either Petrovich, or the emotional burden of consigning them to the kind of fate their long list of enemies would impose.
Daniel and Jessica stood on the precipice of escaping the past, a rare triumph in this business. Few walked away, and not because they were trapped. Most stayed because it was in their blood, part of their programming long before they ever turned up at a military recruiter’s office, Langley, or wherever their formal training started. They were different. Some far more than others, and the Petroviches were no exception.
Jessica hadn’t been recruited because she spoke Serbian and studied international relations at a top university. A seasoned recruiter had seen something more. An unquantifiable quality that set her apart from thousands of college students graduating the same year. She was indisputably hardwired for this kind of work and had embraced it openly.
Her husband was a slightly different story. Same hardwired affinity, with an annoying, but ultimately useful twist. Daniel’s pathological aversion to authority nearly disqualified him from the original Black Flag program. The program evaluation survey he unwittingly completed while on active duty in the Navy suggested he was a troublemaker. The fitness reports filed by the commanding officer of his ship confirmed it.
Petrovich hadn’t assimilated into the regular Navy for one simple reason: he couldn’t stand authority, an aspect of his personality somehow missed while he was in the Naval Reserve Officers Training Corp (NROTC) at Northwestern University. The fact that he had come from a Serbian home and spoke fluent Serbian made his file hard to throw away without a one-on-one interview.
Sanderson was sold on Petrovich within the first few minutes of the meeting. It had nothing to do with his answers. He just had a quality about him that the general trusted would be right for the program. His instinct had been richly rewarded. Without question, Daniel had turned out to be the pinnacle of the program’s success, even though he could be an insufferable pain in the ass most of the time.
His satellite phone on the table behind him chirped and buzzed. He hoped to hear that Jessica was awake and the Petroviches could be moved to the airport shortly. He was anxious to get the rest of the team out of the country. If the Russians were ultimately behind Hadzic’s revenge plot, there was no telling what else his Commie friends might have set in motion. It was better to corral the troops and wait. Maybe dig for some answers through Karl Berg, though he strongly suspected Karl had been effectively cut out of the loop at the CIA.
Sanderson didn’t recognize the number displayed on the phone. Interesting.
“Hello. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” he said, taking the call.
“Stand by to authenticate your identity. Kilo-bravo-echo-victor identifier,” said an unfamiliar voice.
Very interesting.
“Wait one,” said Sanderson, pulling an encrypted mobile phone from one of his cargo pockets. He quickly found what he needed under the contact “Karl Berg Emergency Verification.”
“I authenticate sierra-bravo-two-niner-eight-seven-delta-romeo-four.”
“Copy your last,” said the voice. “I authenticate delta-fife-tree-echo-one.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally speak with you, Mr. Jackson, though I suspect this will not be under pleasant circumstances.”
“You got that straight, and you can call me Darryl,” Jackson said. “Karl Berg was abducted about forty minutes ago.”
“Shit,” was all Sanderson could manage.
Berg and the Petroviches on the same night? He’d been right. Something big was going down.
“Shit is right. I’m on foot right now, making sure none of these fools are following me,” said Jackson. “You don’t sound surprised.”
“Something similar almost happened to an operative closely linked to a few of Karl Berg’s past operations.”
“I don’t want to know any of the details,” said Jackson. “The less I know, the better.”
“You supplied the hardware for a number of those operations.”
“Son of a bitch,” muttered Jackson.
“What exactly happened, Darryl?”
“I had dinner with Karl at a restaurant in Georgetown. He went back to the restaurant to get a bottle of wine I forgot to take with me, and by the time I drove down the street to pick him up, he was gone. He never made it into the restaurant. The only clue I have is a big-ass black Suburban sitting at the stop sign right around the same time. Same vehicle nearly ran me over speeding out of the area.”
“You’re absolutely sure he didn’t pull a disappearing act?” said Sanderson. “He was working on something you might say was slightly on, but mostly off the books.”
“No way he would pull something like that on me. He knows you’d be the first person I called if he didn’t check in.”
“Check in?”
“Yeah. He emails, texts, and leaves me a daily coded message every fucking day. I thought he was nuts. You didn’t know about the check-ins?”
“No. I just have some emergency verification codes,” said Sanderson. “How long has he been doing this?”
“Ever since those lunatics took over Washington,” said Jackson. “You really don’t know more than those codes?”
“That’s it. I’m not even sure how I can help in this situation,” said Sanderson. “I hate to say it, but he’s gone, Darryl.”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Karl took out a little insurance policy when True America swept into town,” said Jackson.
“I don’t think True America has anything to do with his abduction.”
“Karl certainly seemed convinced they might pull something like this. What’s your theory?”
“The other kidnapping attempt I mentioned was stopped dead in its tracks, and we most definitively linked it to a Serbian crime syndicate, but I think the whole thing was orchestrated and funded by the Russians. This operative worked closely with Berg to give Moscow a serious black eye. This is not a coincidence.”
“I don’t know if that makes me feel more paranoid or less than I already am,” said Jackson.
“He was smart to put together an insurance policy, but it won’t do him any good. Threatening to leak classified information about the full scope of True America’s involvement in that mess is like pointing your gun at the wrong target.”
“Who said anything about information?” said Jackson. “Berg took out a different kind of policy, and he explained exactly how you would cash it in.”
“Something tells me this is going to sound crazy.”
“You have no fucking idea,” said Jackson.
Chapter 32
Daniel had barely drifted to sleep, holding Jessica, when he heard footsteps coming down the carpeted hallway. He rolled onto his back and snatched the pistol from the nightstand, returning to his original position with the pistol hidden behind his leg.
“Daniel,” someone whispered from the hallway, “you awake? We need you in here right away. Karl Berg has been kidnapped.”
“I’ll be right there.”
He was half-tempted to open the bedroom window and disappear with Jessica. Daniel wasn’t sure how far he’d get in the suburbs carrying an unconscious woman over his shoulder with a pistol tucked into his pants, but it had to beat sticking around here. He muttered a few curses and got out of bed, taking a few moments to steel himself for a tough decision.