“We believe that the GRU is not being entirely forthright with us,” she said.
Zima smiled. “What? Our intelligence agencies are not playing nice? Notify Russia Today.” He considered this fine woman again and said, “Why do you say this, Polina?”
“They nearly admitted as much,” she said. “They have a lot of contacts in Murmansk. The GRU could have picked up this Spanish man last night at his apartment, but they did not do so. When I asked them why, they didn’t have a good answer. They just said they were working it.”
“Why not pick up the man now?” Zima asked as he hunched his shoulders in frustration.
Sergei took this one. “They said the Spanish man went to the airport this evening and they lost him.”
“How? Murmansk airport isn’t that big. I have been there.”
“We don’t know, sir. But the Spanish man did not get on his flight to St. Petersburg.”
Interesting. “Then this Spaniard knew he was being followed,” the president concluded. He ran the data through his mind and came up with only one conclusion. “Then he got on another flight under another name. Find this man and see what he knows. If I had to guess, I would say this man is a foreign intelligence officer.”
Sergei gave the president a confused look. “We will find out and we will find this man.”
“Good. Follow this wherever it leads.”
Polina interjected, “What if this man is working for the Americans?”
The president went back to swiveling his chair from side to side as he thought. Then he stopped and raised his right index finger. “You know what to do. Keep me informed.”
Both of the officers took these last words as a sign to leave. They got up and headed toward the door.
“Wait,” the president said, pointing to a door that blended with the wooden wall. “Always come and go through the side door and that corridor.”
The two officers nodded and left the president alone.
Anton Zima stood and wandered to the window overlooking the frozen city, his hands clasped behind his back. He considered this bold move so early in his presidency. There was no reason to worry about the Europeans or NATO. They were all a bunch of feckless little girls. The same was true about the UN. Pussies. But he did need to bring the Chinese into the fold. Those comrades were destined to become relevant as a world power. India could be a problem if they could find a way to feed all of their people. For his plan to work, India needed to put Pakistan in its place. North Korea? He laughed out loud. He could deal with crazy; the rational were another story. And that left the Americans. With new leadership with balls, they would be the biggest problem.
7
The small half-full jet buckled heavily through the turbulence, making Karl Adams feel like a fish in a blender. Glancing about the cabin, most seemed calm, with the exception of one woman who was wailing something in a language Karl didn’t understand. But screaming of impending death was a universal language with no subtitles required.
As they bounced on the frozen runway, Karl looked out and saw that snow squalls were the obvious reason for the rough ride. He had been to Helsinki before, but with the snow cover the place was indistinguishable from his previous visit. Snow plows had barely kept up with the ferocity of the puffy onslaught of frozen precipitation. He had no idea how the pilot was keeping the jet on the taxiway.
Once they got to the terminal, Karl collected his bag and went through customs as a Russian citizen. His credentials were impeccable, yet, he couldn’t help thinking the customs agent gave him a little extra scrutiny. The Finns still liked to hate their Russian neighbors.
Then, inside the terminal, he checked the flights for that evening. They were all cancelled. Great.
He got onto his phone and checked on flights going out in the morning. There were a number of options for flights out of Europe heading toward America, but nothing great. Most went through Frankfurt or London. Plus, he wasn’t sure if the storm would back up those flights also. Unfortunately, he had just two options to use for this ticket — Spanish or Russian identities. He chose to hold off on booking this flight until he knew about the weather.
As he stood at the base of the computer screens announcing the arrivals and departures, he noticed a younger woman, perhaps thirty, giving him a smile from a few feet away. She was a couple of inches shy of six feet, her long blonde hair braided and pulled back to a ponytail. Her high cheek bones indicated she was probably a local. Plus, her clothes gave her away. She was wearing a heavy coat fringed with fox fur around the hood and at each cuff.
“Is your flight cancelled?” the woman asked in English with barely an accent.
Karl looked at her and shrugged, as if he didn’t understand English. But, of course, even his Spanish persona, Nicolas Lobo, was supposed to be fluent in English. So, using a slight Spanish accent, Karl said, “The trouble with traveling this far north in February.”
She smiled and moved a little closer. “The wolf loves the snow.”
“He will still eat you,” Karl said. Then he hesitated briefly after hearing this security phrase. Somewhat relieved, he said, “SUPO?”
SUPO was the Finnish Security Police. Kind of like their FBI, but with a small foreign intelligence component as well.
“Good guess.”
“I can see the outline of your gun on your right hip,” Karl said. “And you instinctively rubbed against it three times since I’ve seen you.”
She gave him a pissed off glare. “Are you ready to get out of the airport?”
Karl shifted his eyes about the sparsely-occupied terminal. “That depends. Are you ready to tell me what you’re doing here?”
“Your Agency asked for our help,” she said. “For some reason, they didn’t want anyone seeing you with one of their officers.”
That made sense to Karl. Embassies were under heavy scrutiny by Russian officers worldwide, and especially this close to their borders. Everyone who came and went from the U.S. Embassy was suspected to be a spook — even though they might just be the chef.
“I have a car out front,” she said, her hand pointed toward the terminal entrance.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“A hotel.”
“But we just met.” He tried his best not to smile.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she started to walk toward the door. The Finns weren’t known for their sense of humor, Karl remembered. So, he followed her, trying to keep from checking out her fine assets and failing miserably.
Outside, Karl realized the hoodie he had changed into at the Murmansk airport would not be heavy enough for the snowy environment. Before getting into her black BMW SUV, he pulled out his heavy lined leather jacket and put that on over the hoodie. Then he put his bag in the back seat and got into the front passenger side.
The SUPO officer had left the engine running while she retrieved Karl, so the snow was not sticking to the windshield and the interior was still warm.
“You’re very trusting leaving it running while going inside,” Karl said.
“This is Helsinki, not Chicago,” she reminded him.
Good point. “Do you have a name?”
“Hanna. I was only given a photo of you, your flight, and that phrase.”
Karl considered if he could trust this woman. Probably. But his father had told him to never trust anyone in this game. “Niko.” After all, that’s what he was used to hearing for the past five months.