He waited, to make sure she was finished, and then asked, “Do you remember the bombings in Turkey a little while ago — one of which killed the U.S. Secretary of Defense, along with several members of his staff as well as his protection detail? Or the female suicide bomber who hopped the fence and detonated at the entrance to the White House?”
“Of course.”
“Those were Sergun. He trained and dispatched the terrorists responsible. There were other attacks on Americans as well. Suffice it to say, we felt justified in grabbing him.”
“Where is he now?”
“In a very deep, very dark hole.”
“From which, of course, he’s not free to leave,” she commented.
“That’s the problem with holes,” Harvath remarked. “Some are so deep that you can’t get out of them.”
Jasinski paused. Her head was spinning. She didn’t know what to say. He was all but admitting that the United States was still running its rendition program — a program globally condemned and one that the U.S.A. had long since claimed to have shut down.
She had several questions, but she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers. Fuck, she thought. Why had she agreed to this assignment? Harvath could not only tank her career, he could also land her in prison. No one could just flout international laws the way he was.
“I’m not comfortable with this,” she said.
“Well you need to get comfortable,” he replied, “because this is the way it is, Monika. We fight here, on these terms, right now, or the entire continent of Europe becomes a battlefield. Poland, Germany, France, all of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
Harvath reached for the tiny copper kettle Nicholas had brought out at the end of the meal and poured himself a strong cup of Turkish coffee.
The more time he spent with Monika, the more he liked her. She was the next wave. She would help steer her country and NATO going forward. She just didn’t know it yet. Soon, he hoped, she would. He just needed more time to get her there.
“We interrogated Viktor Sergun for months,” said Harvath. “He had been involved in a lot of different things during his career with the GRU. One of the more interesting things we learned was a rumor he had overheard at headquarters in Moscow.”
“A rumor about what?” she asked.
“Russia’s plan to invade the Baltics.”
She was visibly taken aback. He was talking about Poland’s neighbors. “The Baltics?” she replied. “When?”
“We don’t know,” he stated, taking a sip of coffee.
“What about how they plan to invade?”
“We don’t know that either.”
“What the hell do you know, then?” she exclaimed, exasperated.
Harvath focused on what, at the moment, he thought she should know. “According to Sergun, the GRU was charged with paving the way for the invasion. In addition to a full-blown propaganda campaign, they had activated what the old-time Soviets called “useful idiots”—disenfranchised nationals in NATO countries with certain political and worldviews — who were susceptible to influence.
“They based the PRF on the Marxist-Leninist terror groups of the 1970s — similar to the Red Brigades. Once promising individuals were spotted and assessed, they were recruited and indoctrinated. Then they were brought to Russia and trained in paramilitary tactics — weapons, explosives, and guerilla warfare. After that, they were sent home and told to await further instructions.
“Sergun didn’t have all the details, but he warned that once attacks on NATO personnel, equipment, or installations started happening by the so-called PRF, that was our sign that Russia was preparing to move on the Baltics.”
“So we basically know the PRF is a distraction. Is that it? We have no clue where they’ll strike next or when, and no timetable for the Russian invasion of the Baltics?”
Harvath nodded.
Jasinski dropped her napkin down on the table and stood. Pacing, she tried to figure it all out.
Nicholas cleared the dishes as Harvath watched her. He was pleased to see her so worked up, so passionate. If she could control that, channel it, she might just exceed his expectations.
It took Jasinski a moment to process everything. Finally, she turned and asked, “How did you know about Norway?”
“The equipment we keep hidden in those caves needs to be serviced,” he replied. “As part of our agreement with Norway, we hire Norwegians to do it. Whoever works in the caves has to have a background check. And because of the importance of that equipment, we routinely review the personnel files, as do our counterparts in Norwegian intelligence.
“Two weeks ago, there was a red flag and an investigation was opened. That investigation uncovered a plot to bomb the caves and destroy the equipment. When we learned that the saboteurs were all going to be at the cabin, the decision was made to move in and capture them. Obviously, everyone wishes there had been more time for reconnaissance.”
“Obviously,” said Jasinski. “What’s also obvious is that you took Sergun’s rumor seriously.”
“Only when the attack in Lisbon happened, then our antennas went up. Then once the attack in Madrid took place, we had a high level of confidence that we knew what was happening.”
“A confidence that you never shared with NATO. In fact, you didn’t do anything until your equipment was targeted.”
“Wrong,” corrected Harvath. “We looped in the Supreme Allied Commander from the start.”
That was a piece of the puzzle she hadn’t been aware of. “Then why didn’t he do something?”
“Communiqués were sent to all NATO personnel after the first attack. Everyone was warned. You know that.”
“But the communiqués didn’t contain all of the information. I saw them. None of us knew what you knew.”
Harvath shook his head. “It wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“You don’t know that,” she pushed back.
Harvath could see the deaths weighing on her.
“Maybe the diplomats wouldn’t have been able to do anything with it,” she pressed, “but on the intelligence side, it could have helped the investigation. Maybe I could have done something with it.”
“There’s nothing you could have done.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maybe. But we couldn’t risk it.”
“Why not?”
“Because NATO is shot through with Russian spies,” said Harvath. “It has been since the beginning. That’s its greatest weakness. It’s like Swiss fucking cheese. For every Russian you uncover, there are two more hiding somewhere else. We couldn’t risk their learning what we know.”
Monika looked at him defiantly. “How do you know I’m not a spy?” she demanded.
“To be honest, I don’t.”
She glared at him. “Then why am I here?”
It was a fair question, but one that he wasn’t going to answer — at least not fully, and certainly not yet. “Because the powers that be want my team working with someone from SHAPE,” he said. “And that someone is you.”
“What powers that be? The Defense Intelligence Agency? The Central Intelligence Agency? Who do you work for? And don’t tell me again that you were sent by SACT. You don’t work for NATO. And him,” she added, pointing at Nicholas. “He definitely doesn’t work for NATO.”
Though Harvath had no idea why, he glanced at his little friend. For his part, Nicholas simply shrugged as he set down three dessert plates, each with a piece of Makowiec—a traditional Polish poppy seed pastry cake, normally served at the holidays. He knew well enough to stay out of this. Harvath was on his own.