“You’re both looking fit,” said Blue Man. He was, as ever, dressed in a suit and tie with polished shoes. He looked decidedly out of place in the forest. His hair was white, his features grizzled, but his eyes were light and alert and his handshake strong.
Reel gave him a hug and whispered, “Thank you,” in his ear.
Robie stared expectantly at Blue Man.
“I got a phone call from someone you’ve been interviewed by here,” he began.
Robie and Reel exchanged a glance. Reel said, “Male or female?”
Blue Man said, “Male. He apologized for how late your session went and for the degree of wetness involved.”
“Nice of him,” said Reel dryly.
“He also told me that there is a Plan B in place in the event that your vetting here does not go well.”
“And what is Plan B?” asked Robie.
“The B Team, actually. For the upcoming mission. You two are the preferred unit, of course.”
“How flattering,” commented Reel. “And do we know what the mission is?”
“One person at the agency knows, and that person is not me.”
“Only one?” said Robie, looking startled.
“So Evan Tucker, then?” suggested Reel.
Blue Man nodded. “Highly unusual. I’m used to small circles of need to know, but a circle of one is problematic.”
“We’ve survived so far,” said Reel. “Do you see something coming up that might change that?”
“I won’t mince words, because that won’t do either of you any good. The director is enormously conflicted at this point. Facts that I have gathered demonstrate a man perilously near the edge. He both needs you and wants to punish you. And it is unclear at this point which of these competing views will win out.”
“He tried to waterboard us into a confession,” said Robie. “That might indicate the ‘punishment’ side is winning out.”
Blue Man nodded. “First blush might indicate that. But it’s unfortunately more complicated than that. He seems to be changing his mind not day by day but hour by hour.”
“And how do you know this?” asked Robie.
“We are an intelligence-gathering agency,” replied Blue Man with a smile. “And there is no law against turning that skill inward.”
Robie looked at Reel. “That may be why Tucker came calling here.”
“He came here to see you?” asked Blue Man.
Robie said, “He wanted to ‘assure’ us that he has no personal vendetta against us and that everything they’re throwing at us here, including the waterboarding, is part of the vetting.”
“And did you believe him?” asked Blue Man.
“Hell no,” snapped Reel. “And there are no assets we can call on to stop his vendetta against us?”
“That has been tried and his heels dug in. Personnel at the agency are convinced of the culpability of the former DD and the analyst. They were traitors pure and simple and their deaths are not unduly troubling. Unfortunately, none of those people run the CIA.”
“We understand that some deal has been struck with the president,” said Reel.
“That’s the rub. This mission runs all the way to the White House. I’ve learned that there was a transmission at the Sit Room involving only the president, the DCI, and the APNSA.”
Reel looked confused. “What about the Watch Command?”
“Walled off. First time in history, I believe. Literally no one other than the three men in that meeting was privy to who was on the other end of that satellite. Certainly a breach of normal protocol.”
“So the VP wasn’t there?” said Robie.
Blue Man shook his head. “Ominous, since the VP is normally part of the loop on something like that.”
“Wait a minute, do you think they’re worried about transition exposure?” said Reel.
“In case of impeachment?” Blue Man nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I think.”
“So they’re walling off the VP so he could take over in case his boss gets the ax,” said Robie. “That tells us something.”
“High crimes and misdemeanors,” said Reel. “That’s what the Constitution says are impeachable offenses. But those words can be widely interpreted.”
“But in the intelligence world something jumps out,” said Robie.
“Assassination of a head of state,” said Reel. She looked sharply at Blue Man. “Is that what we’re being dialed up to do?”
“I wish I could tell you for certain, but I can’t.”
“We hit Ahmadi before he came to power in Syria for that very reason,” said Robie. “He wasn’t yet a head of state. Otherwise, it’s illegal.”
“And bin Laden was a terrorist, not a head of state,” added Reel.
Blue Man considered all of this and then filled his chest with the invigorating mountain air. “And there are a limited number of such targets for which the president would stick out his political neck.”
“Very limited,” said Robie. “And it simply can’t be some asshole dictator raping his country. Saddam Hussein’s fellow countrymen hung him, not us. And Africa is not that important to us geopolitically. No basis to argue in the national interest.”
“I can actually think of two possible targets,” said Reel. “And both of them are suicide missions for the people pulling the trigger.” She stared at Blue Man. “With no double cross needed. The target might go down, but so will the mission team. They might get in, but they won’t get out. We’re dead.”
Blue Man said, “Ergo, I believe that the director has resolved his conflict. But then again, that’s what he thought last time.”
Chapter 21
Chung-Cha had never met a westerner who could tell the difference between a Chinese and a Japanese, much less a North Korean and a South Korean. This had proven very valuable to her work. To the world North Koreans were evil, while South Koreans and Japanese roused no suspicions at all. And Chinese were tolerated because China made everything that everyone else used and had all the money, or so Chung-Cha had been told.
She had taken a flight to Istanbul and boarded the train there. She was now in Romania, heading west. She had been on a North Korean clunker, but never a train such as this. She had never seen anything so luxurious that moved!
She was listening to music on her headphones as the train wended its way along. Chung-Cha liked to listen to music because it allowed her mind to wander to other things. She could afford to let her mind drift now. Later, that would not be possible.
The countryside here was quite remarkable. She enjoyed traveling by train for several reasons, not the least of which was the lessened standard of security. For this particular journey, there was another reason.
That reason was residing in the same train car as she was, only four compartments down from her.
She had seen him, but he had not seen her because he was not trained to observe, at least not at the level she was. The train’s destination was Venice. From Istanbul the trip took six days.
She waited until he went to the dining car that night. Her gaze followed him all the way out of the sleeping car.
She figured she had thirty minutes. She shouldn’t need half that time.
Chung-Cha didn’t simply kill people; she gathered intelligence. She looked like a shy young Asian woman who would pose a threat to no one. The fact that she could kill everyone on this train would not occur to any passenger.
The man’s compartment was locked. A few seconds later it was no longer locked. Chung-Cha slipped inside and shut the door behind her. She did not expect to find much. The man was a British envoy lately attached to the embassy in Pyongyang. Those types did not leave classified documents lying around in their empty train compartments. What secrets they did have were confined to their minds or on encrypted devices that would take an army of computers years to break into.