He had a damn good point. “But it doesn’t mean they couldn’t be shipping multiple missiles on multiple ships to one or many locations.”
“That’s possible. But again, the big question is what do we do in response?”
Bradford considered this carefully. There was no perfect choice here. “Prepare to slip it into the daily briefing for tomorrow and hope like hell that POTUS doesn’t ask too many questions.”
“If he does?”
“We tell him we’re monitoring the situation.”
Sherm nodded agreement. “We’re tracking the ship by GPS, and we have HUMINT involved.”
“Right. Not a lie. On that point, I want you to assign Karl Adams to follow through with this mission.”
The director of operations protested with a strong physical reaction and a facial expression alone that showed his displeasure. Then he said, “But, John, the man isn’t even thirty yet.”
“We strap twenty-one-year old men and women in fifty million dollar jets and send them off with bombs in harm’s way. Surely, we can have one good officer follow through with what he started. And remember that he was an Army officer with intelligence experience in war zones.” Bradford pointed toward his computer screen. “Also, he was the one who brought this to our attention.”
“Yes, of course. But perhaps he should have help.”
Bradford thought about that, remembering how many times the young officer’s father, Jake Adams, had bailed out the Agency. Not to mention the fact that Karl’s mother had died while on duty with the CIA. “You give Karl the full protection of this Agency. If that means giving him a partner, then so be it. Who do you have in mind?”
Sherm smiled. “I’ve got a plan.”
“Do not call in Jake Adams,” Bradford ordered. “That will completely undermine our confidence in Karl.”
“I understand. But it’s better that you don’t know the details of this operative. Just in case shit goes sideways.”
Right. Like that never happens in the intelligence game. Bradford agreed and then said, “Keep me up to date on the progress of the Russian ship.”
Sherm Swanson took that as his cue to leave. He got up and shuffled out the door.
Bradford swiveled his chair and viewed some of the ‘I Love Me’ plaques and photos on his wall. It was so much easier to simply strap himself into a cockpit and fly the damn sortie. Put bombs on target and get back home. But this job was different, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he wanted to stick with it. On the other hand, he wasn’t even sure if the new president would want him to stay on. Only time would tell.
9
Karl and Hanna were picked up at the crash site by another SUPO officer, a man in his mid-forties. This unnamed man transported Karl and Hanna to a clinic, where Karl had a small gash in the side of his head glued shut. Luckily it was on the same side where he had been struck by that GRU officer in Russia. The greatest pain, though, had been to his right shoulder where the harness had caught him from smashing through the windshield. Hanna’s face had required a couple butterfly strips from glass cuts, but they would not leave major scars. Karl guessed Hanna had experienced more excitement than at any other time with that intelligence agency.
Since he had been attacked, Karl had made a call to his Agency contact before the SUPO transport picked him up, letting them know of his situation. His contact called him back as he waited in the clinic for Hanna.
“What’s the plan?” Karl asked his Agency contact.
“Get on the flight to Iceland tomorrow afternoon,” Roddy said. “You’ll have a five-hour delay there before moving on to Florida.”
“Why Florida?”
“I thought you deserved a little warm weather after Russia, Finland and Iceland.”
“Thanks for that,” Karl said. “Anything else?”
“The DCI wants you to continue on with this issue.”
“The DCI specifically?”
“Yep. He’s been briefed.”
“Who’s my contact in Orlando?”
“Your contact will hold a sign reading ‘Mr. Prufrock.’”
“Roger that. But I hope he has a love song for me.”
“You got that reference.”
“Hey, I’m more than a pretty face.”
“Sure. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Don’t get shot.”
“I could use a damn gun.”
“I’m sure the Finns would loan one to you.”
Karl hung up and smiled as Hanna walked over to him.
“Is everything alright?” she asked.
“Yeah. My people seem to think you might have a weapon I could use for the rest of my stay in your fine city.”
“I’m taking you to a safe house until your flight,” Hanna said. “You won’t need a gun.”
“You never need one until you do,” he assured her.
The same guy that had picked them up at the crash site drove them to an isolated area on the outskirts of the city. Karl got out of the vehicle and slung his bag over his right shoulder, realized that hurt too much, so he transferred it to his left shoulder. As he waited for Hanna to get out of the front passenger seat, he noticed that she was in a heated debate with the driver. Finally, she got out and slammed the door of the SUV. The driver promptly pulled away.
“Everything alright?” Karl asked.
She shook her head. “He’s my old partner. Says he’s concerned for my safety. But I know he just thinks I’ll have sex with you tonight. Just to make him right, maybe I should.”
“I don’t know Finnish custom, but do I have some say in the matter?” Karl asked with a smile.
“I’m kidding,” she said, and then walked toward an apartment building.
The lighting here was a subdued yellow glow, the falling snow letting up somewhat from how it had been earlier in the evening.
Karl followed Hanna to the second floor. Without saying a word, she opened the door and turned on a light, revealing a sparsely-decorated apartment. Where a television would sit in an American home, in front of a leather sofa and chair, was a small high-tech stereo with a phone jack.
“Your agency people need a little more imagination with their decorations,” Karl said. Then, before Hanna could say anything, he noticed a small table with a few personal photos in frames. “Oh, shit, sorry. This is your place.”
“Afraid so. SUPO is not like the CIA. We don’t have safe houses. Most of our houses are safe.”
“I didn’t mean anything,” Karl said. “It’s just a little sparse.”
“I work a lot,” she said. “I don’t even own a television.”
“You’re not missing much,” he said. “I haven’t watched TV since high school.”
“Right. So, you get me.”
He set his bag on the low-pile carpet and sat on the sofa.
“Would you like a beer?” she asked.
“That would be awesome.”
She went to the attached kitchen and brought back a couple of Finnish lagers, which she set on the coffee table. But she also had a bottle of Finlandia Vodka and two shot glasses.
“I thought after our little adventure tonight we could use something stronger,” she said. Then she sat down on the sofa next to Karl and poured them each a glass of vodka.
“Can’t fault that logic,” he said.
Hanna picked up both glasses and handed one to Karl. “Before we drink. I need to know your real name. When we first met at the airport you had a Spanish accent. That went away after our incident.”
He couldn’t deny that. “Well, trust is a precious commodity in this business. I had to be sure.”
“And now?” she asked.
“My name is Karl. Niko is my nickname.”