“Therein lies the rub, my friend. She’s not yet the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. Just a deputy thereof, though one of the most powerful in recent history and topping my list of noteworthy rainmakers.”
“You sound like you wish she’d just stay a deputy.”
“Perhaps. Her ambition is the only thing that’s growing faster than her influence. I’m sure she’s concocting a final chess move to assure herself her next promotion.”
“So what’s the problem? She’s an ally growing in power. Isn’t that a good thing?”
He felt like an idiot for asking as he predicted his mentor’s response.
“It’s good until she grows too powerful to respect our free will. After our Spratly Island campaign, I sensed the balance of power shifting to her. She was beginning to need us less than we need her. The South Korean campaign, however, was more my doing. I developed the relationship with our new clients. But she was involved in the background, and she continues to be my only conduit to satellite data and other kinds of important information.”
“How involved was she in Korea?”
“I don’t know. That’s one reason I’m anxious. I fear that she understands our full capabilities and is calling upon us for that final resounding success she needs for her advancement.”
“That’s normal. She always calls on us for shit like that.”
“What’s irking me is the stakes,” Renard said. “I don’t know how much goodwill she believes we owe her from Korea. Nor do I know how she values her own growing power against our last ten years of working together. She may perceive that what I considered an even scorecard has evolved into a debt I owe her.”
“You’re walking into a negotiation without the facts. You don’t know where you stand.”
The Frenchman exhaled smoke and placed his cigarette into an ashtray.
“Precisely. And worse, I don’t know what she wants, nor do I fully understand my own desired outcomes since there are several scenarios for which she may have summoned us.”
“I never thought the day would come where you’d walk into a negotiation working uphill.”
“It has. But I sense enough power on her end to warrant our presence, compromised as it is. From her brief invitation, I predict a weighty endeavor.”
Jake pondered his mentor’s assets. He knew the Frenchman’s network had grown strong, and his mercenary fleet of two Scorpène-class submarines and one custom, armed submarine transport ship was in top condition. For every nation that loathed him, two nations stood ready to purchase his services.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You’re here for the usual, but you’re not sure if you’re going to get it.”
“The usual?”
“A mission you can’t refuse, supported with intelligence from Her Majesty of the CIA, for a cash payout that gives you more clout to grow your enterprise.”
“You know me well.”
“If she’d ever open the flipping door, we might find out what she’s offering. Any idea what it could be?”
“Several. The world is a mess, and that’s part of my quandary. My mind is overworked with scenarios, payouts, and risks, on top of my ignorance of the goodwill accounting she’s tallied.”
A middle-aged lady in a dark suit behind a desk, flanked by an American flag and a CIA banner, lifted her nose and announced that Olivia McDonald was ready to receive them. Jake stood and watched his friend extinguish his cigarette before following him.
“Well, shit, Pierre. He we go.”
Sexy with a curve-hugging suit, Olivia McDonald stood and walked around her desk to greet Jake. As she embraced him, he sensed her coldness, and her words sounded sterile. He thought for a moment that she sounded lonely.
“It’s good to see you again, Jake.”
Lines forming on her face showed age catching up with her, but in a world led by old men, she shone as a beacon of bright, young energy. As she kissed Renard’s cheeks and then slinked back to her desk, her movement suggested that her arrogance had grown in lockstep with her prestige.
He waited for her to sit before lowering himself into her leather guest chair.
“It’s great to see you both again.”
“It’s our pleasure to be with you,” Renard said. “Seeing you is something I always look forward to.”
“You’re always too kind, Pierre. How are you?”
“Splendid. My business and network are thriving, and I owe much of it to your support.”
“Yes, you do,” she said. “I’m glad you’re willing to acknowledge it. I’m also doing well. You probably know where I stand in the hierarchy. So I won’t bore you with bragging. What you probably don’t know is what stands between me and the next level.”
“I just might,” Renard said. “People have short memories, and I suspect that your superiors have forgotten much of your past accomplishments. I believe that you need something attention-grabbing to secure your next promotion, and that’s why we’re here.”
She gave the Frenchman an inquisitive stare. As her features softened, Jake realized that she lived in a world surrounded by underlings who feared rendering frank feedback. She appeared to like Renard’s candor.
“I can’t remember the last time someone spoke to me so directly, except my boss. But the difference between you and him is that you’re right. He rarely is. I’ll be doing the intelligence world a favor by taking his place. And yes, you can be a part of making that happen.”
“How can we help?”
“I haven’t thought through any elaborate plans, but I need you to inflict a little damage on a tyrant.”
“What sort of damage?” Renard asked.
“Interrupt cross-straits commerce between two major land masses. You’ll cripple a bridge, a pipeline, and a few ships.”
Jake noticed a change in his friend’s demeanor to a mood he failed to identify. The Frenchman appeared plasticized.
“You’re turning my team into saboteurs?” Renard asked.
“Call it what you want. But this is a calculated move, and I’ll spare you the speculation. It’s a message to the Kremlin.”
“A message? Not the taking of an asset? No oil field? No land grab? No armaments pilfered? Nothing to be gained?”
She smirked.
“A later phase of this operation, after your involvement, may lead to lasting changes of sea-based asset ownership in the region. But that’s secondary.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Afraid? You?”
“Messages are only heard if they catch the attention of the listener, and to catch someone’s attention, one must do something splashy. From the parameters you’ve mentioned, I surmise that you want me to enter the Black Sea — perhaps as deeply as the Sea of Azov — and challenge the annexation of Crimea.”
“I expected you to guess it by now, but it always impresses me when I watch you piece the puzzle together.”
Jake found the silence uncomfortable as his mentor slowed the conversation to heighten the effect of the compliment. He held his breath until the Frenchman spoke.
“I think you fail to realize how difficult a battle within a closed sea can be,” Renard said, “especially when the adversary owns the sky, has the dominant fleet within it, and a Muslim state owns the only sea route in or out.”
“You’ll have the element of surprise. You sneak in, attack, and get out. I’m not asking you to take on the entire Black Sea Fleet. Just do what you do best and pull back.”
“At great peril to my assets. What reward merits this risk?”
“Nobody’s been willing to stand up to Russia on this, but now’s the time. It’s been just over four years since they took Crimea, and it’s the inflection point. Crimea is fully dependent on their connection to the mainland through the lifelines you’re going to destroy, and the original outrage for the annexation is still recent enough to be remembered.”