Black Flagged Apex (6 page)

She started to form the words to call her two unwilling manservants, Munoz and Melendez, but quickly remembered they had departed soon after she treated them to the most expensive dinner she could import into the safe house. It was the smallest token of gratitude she could offer the two men that had saved her from Srecko's beasts. The duo had even started to lighten up a little, which probably had less to do with her charming personality and everything to do with the availability of an exquisitely smooth Malbec vintage, and the dawning realization that they would be taking the next available private flight back to Sanderson's mountain hideaway. Either way, she enjoyed seeing them let their guard down just a little and finally relax. She owed them everything.

She had oddly come to terms with her own death at the apartment. On some level, she had felt relieved that her struggle was finally finished. At least she had convinced herself that she had accepted her death. All she had to do was relax her muscles and take a little weight off her tensed midsection. The thin piano wire would have cut a few more millimeters into her neck, effectively opening her carotid artery. It might have been a bad decision given the Celox Munoz had found in Josef Hadzic's torture kit, but she somehow doubted they could have kept her alive for more than a minute or two jamming hemostatic powder into her neck. What they had planned to do to her corpse afterward, on camera for their boss, hadn't mattered to her either, so she thought.

Ultimately, all of those thoughts proved false. When Melendez's bullet removed her captor's head, she sprang into action with no hesitation, leaving little doubt about her decision to live or die.

She put down the concealer stick and walked across the cool, gray marble tile to the kitchen. She hadn't expected to hear from Daniel until later in the afternoon. His group had an operation planned for the evening, which always shut him down externally. She read the caller ID, not recognizing the number, which could only mean one thing. The last person she really wanted to talk to right now. Three people had the number for this throw-away phone. Daniel, Munoz, and her least favorite person in the world. She accepted the call.

"Do I need to get a restraining order?" she said by way of greeting.

"I highly doubt that would be possible, since you officially no longer exist as an Argentinian citizen," General Sanderson said.

"That was fast. Can I pick up the new paperwork this morning? There's room on a flight leaving at 12:15," Jessica said.

"So now you're happy to hear from me? Your passport will be delivered within the hour by a trusted member of the U.S. Embassy. One of Karl Berg's friends. That might give you enough time to book that flight."

"I'm impressed," she said.

"I'll take that as a compliment, though I must admit that having a little leverage over the White House helps work wonders with the State Department. The passport has been issued in the name Jessica Petrovich and will contain an entry stamp for your vacation to Argentina. Once you get out of Argentina, you're home free. Your names have been removed from every U.S.-generated international and domestic watch list. The Petroviches are free and clear as far as the U.S. government is concerned."

"Do you trust them?"

"For now, but I'd recommend having a backup plan ready at all times. I'll help you get a second set of papers, just in case. Have Daniel pass on the details when the two of you have talked about it."

"We'll be sure to get in touch," Jessica said.

"Why do I get the feeling the two of you already have a plan to disappear?"

"Because you know us too well? Who knows, we might sign on with you as a
Mr. and Mrs. Smith
freelance team. No promises, but all options are still on the table."

"Now that is a pleasant surprise coming from you. Even hearing you mention the possibility gives me hope. I was utterly convinced that I'd never see the two of you again."

"You might not…" she said and paused, "but sometimes life makes the choices for you."

"In my experience, it's most of the time. The two of you will always be welcome here. Don't ever forget that," Sanderson said.

"Somehow, I don't think you'll let us forget."

"We all know each other too well. Enjoy your time together. The two of you have earned it. I expect to hear from Daniel early this evening. Sounds like they are close to wrapping up their work in Germany. Of course, it all depends on his ability to get some very stubborn people to talk."

"I'm sure Daniel will be on one of the first flights out of Germany tomorrow."

"A lot of highly placed, extremely anxious government officials in D.C. are counting on that very same assessment."

"Daniel never disappoints."

"No. He doesn't. Good luck, Jessica," Sanderson said, and the call disconnected.

She placed the phone on the cold granite countertop and glanced at a two-thirds empty bottle of last night's Malbec standing next to the sink. Was nine-thirty in the morning too early for a glass of wine? Probably. Plus, she needed something stronger to deal with the anxiety stirred up from talking to Sanderson. He'd ruined their lives for his own selfish gain, though the entire situation was certainly more complex. Without the general's new initiative, who knows what the world might have faced in the upcoming weeks. The limited reports streaming out of Russia painted an extremely bleak picture. Without Daniel, the world may never have discovered the truth about what happened in Monchegorsk. She felt her mind spinning again and glanced at the bottle of wine. Still not a good idea. Maybe a little closer to eleven o'clock.

Chapter 4

7:38 PM

Gallusviertel District "Gallus"

Frankfurt, Germany

"We stick out like a sore thumb around here," Daniel muttered from the rear bench row of their Ford Transit van.

"At least nobody will call the cops," Konrad Hubner said.

"That's because we look like the cops," Daniel said.

"We're fine. This isn't a high crime area. The immigrants take care of this place," Reinhard Klinkman said.

Klinkman had met them in Hamburg, after they had travelled separately by car through Sweden and Denmark. Thanks to the Schengen Agreement, neither of their cars was subjected to more than a visual check at reduced speed, at either the Danish or German border. Introduced in 1985, the Schengen Agreement gradually abolished border controls throughout the European Union, making it possible to drive from Stockholm to Spain without ever displaying a passport or enduring customs searches. If you held a passport from a non-Schengen Area country, all you had to do was gain admittance to the European continent, legally or illegally, and you could travel freely without question or fear of discovery.

Once Petrovich's team landed in Stockholm a few days earlier, they were more or less guaranteed access to the rest of Europe. Of course, the matter of their involvement in a running gun battle on the streets of Stockholm had the potential to complicate this freedom, but once they escaped the city, they saw no sign of an enhanced security presence in any part of Sweden.

Klinkman had arranged for them to return their rental cars in Hamburg and take possession of two used vans, which they drove to Frankfurt. One van, with darkened rear windows, would be used by the assault team. The windowless, second van gave Sanderson's Electronic Warfare (EW) team a private cargo area to turn the van into a mobile electronics suite.

Three members of this newly formed group had joined them in Frankfort, having arrived from various parts of Europe. Utilizing laptop equipment and wireless technology worth five times the amount of their van, they had easily hacked into Frankfurt's Deutsche BioMedizinische (DBM) database, sending the data to the CIA. Although theoretically unnecessary in this case, since most of the cyber work could be done from the U.S., Sanderson wanted to put this team in the field alongside the clandestine operatives. Apparently, Berg hadn't argued with the idea, since it would provide one more layer of separation between his agency and German authorities should the unthinkable transpire. Berg seemed to be all about these layers, which Petrovich could appreciate. All of his own layers had been peeled away recently, leaving him completely exposed.

The electronic warfare team had another goal that had been cautiously revealed by their team leader, "Luke." The Frenchman had disclosed the fact that they would try to hack the CIA's system and either download the terrorist databases or install a backdoor that they could access later. Sanderson didn't want the team constrained by nervous decision makers when national security matters were at stake. Daniel had no doubt that the electronics team had been given orders to go deeper than just the terrorist databases. Sanderson never passed up an opportunity to expand his influence, and if the CIA let their collective guard down for a second while linking with Luke's team, the general would take full advantage of the situation. Sanderson never ceased to amaze and disgust Petrovich.

"There's the apartment block. Lots of shady-looking faces around here. Are you sure the van won't disappear? That would pose a real fucking problem," Farrington said.

"It's not like the States. You don't find the same level of crime. There are plenty of rougher, all-white neighborhoods further west," Hubner said.

"I don't want to have to walk him to the nearest U-bahn station if our van disappears," Farrington replied.

"It won't be a problem," Hubner muttered.

"I still think we should deal with him in his apartment. Fewer variables," Klinkman said.

"This is a tightly knit immigrant community. Word will get around fast and eventually make its way to the real police, who will be quick to respond. There's no federal police bureaucracy working in our favor. We need to get Sahil into the van as quickly as possible," Hubner said.

Hubner was right. No broad federal law enforcement agency existed in Germany, so they couldn't flash federal badges and buy time like in the U.S. or Russia. Nearly all law enforcement tasks fell under territorial German State Police, which were administered separately by each region. The only federal police apparatus in Germany was the Bundespolizei (BPOL), which didn't include any specialized units that would typically conduct an urban-based raid. Most BPOL units served federal internal security or border supervision roles.

They had thought about posing as members of Germany's counterterrorism forces, GSG-9, a specialized branch of the BPOL, but decided against the idea. The mere suggestion of a GSG-9 operation would raise every law enforcement alarm in the region. Their hastily provided identification badges indicated that they were members of the Hesse Landeskriminalamt (LKA), or State Investigative Bureau, which made enough sense to silence most curious onlookers. The LKA specialized in investigating and preventing politically motivated crimes. Four bulky LKA investigators dragging a young Muslim man into a van wouldn't be the most unusual law enforcement spectacle seen in this neighborhood.

Daniel glanced around at his surroundings as the van pulled into an empty space next to a large, green, graffiti-covered dumpster on Idsteiner Strasse. The northern Gallus neighborhood was dominated by rows of long, nondescript, three-story apartment blocks, each extending at least one hundred meters from Idsteiner Strasse. If Sahil's apartment was at the end of one of these blocks, they might have to reposition the car. The van was parked in front of a low hedge between two of the buildings. Beyond the hedge lay a grassy courtyard, which was outlined by a continuation of the hedge and covered with rectangular clothes-drying poles. Spaced closely together, the poles resembled crudely erected, miniature soccer goals. Only a few were still adorned by drying laundry this close to sunset and presented another possible complication upon exit with their man. Entrance doorways to both buildings were visible on the outer edges of the long courtyard, spaced evenly down the entire block.

He shifted nearly all of his attention to the apartment building on the left side of the courtyard. 85 Idsteiner. Upon arrival, he had noted that the target building featured no balconies on either side, just bare-faced walls containing small windows. They wouldn't have to post someone in the adjacent courtyard to prevent a jumper. The target's apartment designation was 2F, which they had presumed to mean second floor. Counting doorways, the apartment was most likely located halfway down the building, which meant a long transit dragging a feisty terrorist. They didn't have much time to spend in the apartment, but he wasn't opposed to spending a few precious moments convincing Sahil that resistance would be met by severe, unthinkable pain. He glanced behind him into the cargo hold area at a large black nylon bag. He wouldn't need the contents of this bag to convince Sahil. The bag could wait for later, when they had more time.

Farrington patted Klinkman on the shoulder and turned to face Daniel and Hubner.

"All right. Let's do this. I want to be out of here within five minutes. Daniel and I will handle any law enforcement interference."

He locked eyes with Daniel.

"Use your compressed air pistol first. You'll have five separate shots. Each dart will instantly paralyze your targ—"

"I'm familiar with the effects," he interrupted bitterly.

"The darts will not penetrate a ballistic vest. Your best bet will be to hit an arm or leg," Farrington said without changing his expression.

"Or the face," Petrovich added.

"Don't shoot for the face. You'll puncture an eye. At twenty-five meters, the air pistols are extremely accurate. Don't shoot for the neck either," he said, maintaining the emotionless face.

Petrovich had at least expected a smile considering the fact that Farrington had zapped him with the same neurotoxin two years ago in the middle of Georgetown University, but this was Farrington's first operation as team leader. Petrovich would play a support role and observe. If Farrington performed as expected, Sanderson would detach Petrovich, leaving Farrington in charge of European operations. Daniel had every intention of making sure Farrington succeeded. He wanted to put as much of this behind him as possible and get back to Jessica.