Black List (23 page)

‘Let me guess; there’s no record of the guy.’ She might not have worked with the Agency for long, but even she understood that such men were kept strictly off the books. Hawkins, if that was even his real name, was most likely part of a black-ops unit that didn’t officially exist, even within the Agency itself.

Argento feigned a look of surprise. ‘Actually there is. At least, there’s part of one. And here’s where it gets interesting. Hawkins was US Army, part of Delta Force. A decorated special-forces operative with a bunch of successful ops under his belt. Then in 2001 his record stops.’

She frowned, beginning to wish she hadn’t drunk so much. Her normally keen mind had been dulled by the vodka. ‘You mean he was discharged?’

‘No, you don’t follow. His record just ends right there. No discharge papers, no information about new postings or transfers. It’s like he just disappeared.’ He looked at her searchingly. ‘My guess is he was inducted into some kind of black-ops unit, off the books, maybe a joint venture between the army and the Agency.’

‘You come up with that all by yourself, Vince?’

‘Kiss my ass,’ he retorted. ‘The point is, there’s definitely something dirty about our buddy Hawkins. I don’t know what his agenda is, but it sure as hell isn’t about protecting national security from computer hackers.’

She wasn’t about to argue with that.

‘The woman with the blonde hair is his real mission,’ Argento went on. Now that his conspiracy-theory mind was in full flow, there was no stopping him. ‘You saw how personal he made this during the house assault. I think she and Hawkins were in the same unit together. Maybe she turned against him, got sick of his bullshit and went rogue. Can’t say I’d blame her, to be honest…’

‘Okay, calm down,’ Mitchell said, stopping him before things got out of hand. Once ideas like this took hold, it was easy to lose sight of the facts that had spawned them. ‘All we have right now are missing service records and unproven theories. Let’s stick with what we know.’

His grin was conspiratorial. ‘We know where Yates and his friend are likely to head next. And we know that if we want to find out what this is really about, we won’t get another chance like this. The question is, what’s
our
play?’

She hadn’t missed his choice of words, or their implication. ‘
Your
play is to follow orders and go home. I’ll decide what to do with this.’

‘Well, we both know I’m not going to listen to that,’ he said, his cocky smile returning. ‘We also know that if you’re heading to Istanbul to take on this woman, you’re going to need help. That’s in pretty short supply these days.’

Mitchell looked at her comrade in exasperation. Argento was intelligent and enthusiastic to be sure, but he was also young and far too confident for her liking. The course of action he was suggesting had the potential to end careers, perhaps even lives if it went wrong. She wondered if he truly appreciated the dangers.

‘Look, this isn’t a game we’re playing here. You’ve got a good record and a promising career ahead of you. Why risk it on something like this?’

His grin broadened. ‘I’m a sucker for a good conspiracy. Plus Hawkins is an asshole and I’d like to see him take a fall. And… I hate to admit this, but I think you deserve a second chance.’

Mitchell sighed and looked down at her empty glass. ‘You know there are no guarantees with this?’

‘Of course. That’s what makes it fun.’

There was nothing else she could say. She’d given him every chance to back out, but still he insisted on coming with her. And if she was honest, deep down she appreciated the help he was offering. She had a feeling she’d need it.

Pushing her empty glass away, she rose from her seat. ‘Then let’s get to work.’

Standing at the edge of a lay-by near the small town of Råholt, about twenty miles north of Oslo, Alex stamped his feet and wrapped his arms around his chest. It was growing cold with the onset of evening, a chill breeze rustling the trees around them.

The dirt bike that had carried them this far before finally running out of fuel lay abandoned in the woods behind. It had served its purpose now anyway.

He glanced down at his watch for the third time in as many minutes, unable to help himself. ‘He’s late.’

Anya, crouched atop a low mound of rocky earth that had probably been bulldozed aside to make way for the road years earlier, didn’t stir from her vigil. Her attention was focussed on the main highway, her intense gaze following each car that cruised past.

The improvised bandage around her injured arm was hidden by her jacket, which she’d also done her best to clean of blood and dirt, but it was clear even to him that the woman had been through the mill. It was unlikely she’d be able to move around a town or city without attracting attention, and they both knew it.

‘He’ll be here.’

Alex wished he shared her conviction. But after everything that had happened over the past few days, he was less inclined to put his faith in others.

‘What if he isn’t?’

She turned her head slowly to look at him, saying nothing. The dangerous glimmer in her eyes however warned him she was tiring of such questions.

‘Fair enough,’ Alex conceded. His companion wasn’t big on providing reassurance in tense situations, or making small-talk in general. She spoke when she had something to say, but otherwise felt no need to fill the silence.

For him, however, the opposite was true.

‘How is it you know Kristian anyway?’

She didn’t reply for a few seconds. It was the kind of pause he’d come to recognize when she was weighing up the value of answering against the risk he’d ask a more probing question next time.

‘When I defected from the Soviet Union, I came through Sweden and hiked over the border into Norway. That was where I handed myself over to the authorities. Kristian was the intelligence officer assigned to debrief me.’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose you could say he was the first friend I made in the West.’

Alex frowned. All this talk of the Soviet Union meant her defection had to have happened nearly twenty years ago, if not longer. ‘How old were you?’

‘Eighteen.’

Alex’s eyes opened wider in surprise. It was certainly enough to put his own life into perspective. ‘Jesus Christ. I was playing
Tomb Raider
and downing Jägerbombs when I was that age.’

While she was risking her life to make the perilous journey through the Iron Curtain.

He felt rather than saw her eyes on him in the gathering darkness. The eyes of someone who had endured hardships, made decisions and committed acts he would never understand. More than ever, he sensed the immense gulf that existed between him and his enigmatic companion.

‘You must think I’m a bit of a joke, eh?’ he asked, guessing her dark thoughts. ‘I’ve pissed around my entire life, wasted time, never taken much responsibility for anything.’

‘Actually, I was thinking the opposite,’ she said. Much to his surprise, there was a strange undertone of sadness and longing in her voice when she spoke next. ‘I envy you.’

Alex was about to reply, but the glow of headlights on the main road prompted him to hold his tongue. Crouching down beside Anya, he watched as a vehicle slowed and pulled into the lay-by. It was a black saloon of some kind, probably a BMW judging by the general outline, though it was hard to tell in the gathering dark.

The vehicle sat there for a few seconds, the idling engine venting steam from the twin exhausts, before the driver finally shut it down. Alex heard the click of a door opening, and moments later the figure of a man emerged.

Neither Alex nor Anya moved a muscle as the driver stood there, allowing his senses to tune in to the environment and his eyes to adjust to the dark.

‘I’m here,’ a familiar voice called out. ‘I’ve come alone and unarmed. You might as well show yourself.’

Alex almost jumped when he felt a hand on his arm. ‘Stay here,’ Anya instructed.

He nodded, saying nothing. He was more than happy to let her take the lead.

Reaching for the sidearm at her waist, Anya drew the weapon and rose up from her vantage point. The driver spotted her the moment she broke cover, though he made no move to advance or retreat as she approached him with the weapon in plain view.

Kristian Halvorsen was one of the very few people in this world whom Anya had trusted enough to make contact with after her break away from the Agency. Always a large, heavy-set man with a fleshy, expressive face, he hadn’t changed much since she’d first met him two decades earlier. Perhaps his swept-back hair was a little thinner now, his face a little fuller and more deeply lined, but all things considered he wore his sixty years of life far more comfortably than she expected to if she lived that long.

‘My cell phone is switched off,’ he said, holding his arms up to show he wasn’t holding anything. ‘And I was not followed.’

Anya said nothing as she briskly patted him down, checking for concealed weapons while keeping the automatic trained on him. He was wearing a woollen overcoat to guard against the falling temperature, and she made sure to search the inside pockets before stepping back a pace, at last allowing her guard to lower a little.

‘You’re late,’ she said, her tone accusatory.

He shrugged. ‘So shoot me.’

Anya kept the weapon trained on him a moment longer, then finally lowered it.

The tension broken, Halvorsen smiled, reached out and embraced her. ‘It is good to see you again, Anya.’

Anya returned the gesture, more relieved than she was prepared to admit to be around someone from the world she was so familiar with. She felt like she was in her comfort zone again.

Halvorsen looked her up and down, his smile fading. ‘Now tell me, what the hell have you been up to? I’m hearing reports of shoot-outs, Norwegian citizens and police officers being murdered, and then you show up just hours later. This is not how you used to operate. Or has that changed as well?’

Anya knew better than to rise to this rebuke. In truth, Halvorsen had every right to be angry. She was far from pleased at how things had turned out herself.

‘I need your help,’ she said instead, deciding to be honest about it.

‘Clearly, or you wouldn’t be here.’ He sighed and glanced around, seeking the young man he knew was hiding nearby. ‘I presume your partner in crime is here too. You might as well bring him out.’

Anya nodded and turned towards the mound of bulldozed earth she’d just come from. ‘Alex, you can come out.’

Rising up from his hiding place, Alex shuffled down the steep earthen incline and approached them, eyeing Halvorsen with a mixture of wariness and hostility.

The older man nodded in greeting. ‘It has been a long time, Alex. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.’

‘Yeah, thanks, Kristian. That makes me feel a lot better,’ Alex fired back with surprising heat. ‘I’m about as popular with the CIA as Osama Bin Laden right now, but what the fuck, eh?’

Halvorsen looked from Alex to Anya, apparently lost for words after his outburst.

‘Forgive him,’ Anya said by way of apology. ‘The last few days have been… difficult.’

‘No fucking shit they’ve been difficult. I’ve been arrested, beaten up, tasered, shot at, nearly drowned, and watched my friend murdered right in front of my eyes. So yeah, it’s been a bit of a rough one.’ His accusing eyes were focussed on Halvorsen. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Halvorsen had recovered from his surprise and was looking at him like he was ready to get back in his car and drive off any second. ‘Tell you what?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Your favourite ice cream flavour, maybe? How about that you’re a fucking spy for starters? Or that you were secretly vetting us to be your fucking cyber-mercenaries? Or that the “client” you recommended to Arran was some kind rogue ex-CIA nut-job – no offence, by the way,’ he added, sparing Anya a glance. ‘Didn’t you think any of this was worth filling us in on?’

Halvorsen took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous when he spoke again. ‘You and Arran were stealing other people’s secrets for your own gain long before I met you, Alex. Did you really think this wouldn’t catch up with you in the end?’

Alex opened his mouth to speak, yet found himself unable to. He had no argument for that, much to his frustration.

Satisfied that he’d silenced the young man, Halvorsen turned his attention back to Anya. ‘You said you needed my help.’

Giving Alex a brief look that suggested they’d be having words about this outburst later, Anya nodded. ‘It is complicated.’

‘Then you’d better come with me,’ he said, gesturing to the car. ‘I know somewhere we can talk.’

An hour later, Alex let out a low whistle as the door in front of him opened to reveal a plush, ultramodern apartment with big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the brightly lit buildings of central Oslo. With expensive chrome fixtures, polished wood floors and marble worktops everywhere, it looked like the sort of place where Hollywood movie stars would hang out and congratulate each other on being awesome.

‘Nice place,’ he remarked, looking around in awe. The monthly rent on an apartment like this was probably more than he made in a year.

And yet, looking closer there was an oddly sterile look about the place. No stacks of books or magazines in the living area, no jars of herbs or decorative bottles of olive oil in the kitchen, no clutter or personal effects of any kind for that matter.

The place was as empty as it was elegant.

‘This is a safe house, reserved for Norwegian security services,’ Halvorsen explained, tossing his overcoat on the breakfast bar in the kitchen. ‘It is used from time to time for meetings, or witness protection. Mostly it stands empty, except when one of our officers decides to take a lady friend somewhere impressive.’

The look on his face suggested this had happened more times than he approved of.

‘Taxpayer’s money at work, eh?’ Alex remarked with a derisive snort.

Halvorsen shrugged. ‘It serves a purpose. We can talk freely here without worrying about eavesdropping.’ He gestured to a dining table set off to one side of the room. ‘Come, sit.’

He took one side, with Alex and Anya sitting opposite. He eyed them both, like a chess playing sizing up his opponent.

‘So tell me, what has happened?’

It was Anya who did most of the talking. Halvorsen listened while she briefly outlined her deal with Arran, his disappearance and Alex’s subsequent arrest, her improvised rescue mission and their escape to Norway, then finally their rendezvous with Alex’s friend Landvik and the shootout at his home.

‘The Agency are after us, and they will use every resource at their disposal to stop us recovering the file,’ she finished. ‘We have one chance left to get it, but for this we need help.’

Halvorsen said nothing for the next few seconds, though his mind was clearly working overtime as he processed everything he’d heard.

‘This file,’ he began. ‘What does it contain?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘We both know it does. You want my trust, then you must extend some my way.’

Glancing at Alex for a moment, Anya sighed, recognizing she’d have to give the man something. ‘It is a directory of all covert operations, units and people used by the Agency, accessible by executive-level employees only,’ she explained. ‘Only the most dangerous and sensitive information is held on it. Every dirty secret they choose to forget, every operation they deny knowledge of; it is all there, all carefully catalogued and stored away on this file. We call it the black list.’

Alex frowned in confusion. The very existence of this black list seemed in contradiction to its purpose. ‘I don’t get it. Why write down stuff that never happened?’

Halvorsen leaned back in his chair, his expression making it clear he understood all too well the purpose of such a list. ‘Shared responsibility.’

Sensing her companion still didn’t understand, Anya elaborated. ‘As the saying goes, nothing is truly secret if more than one person knows about it. There is always a chance that someone may betray the rest of the group for their own gain, or take matters into their own hands without fear of reprisal. The black list was created to prevent both of these things. It is what binds them all together and prevents any one of them from turning against the others.’

Now Alex was starting to get the picture. ‘Mutually assured destruction,’ he said, referring to the Cold War theory that it was impossible for one side to destroy the other without in turn being wiped out by the counterstrike.

Anya shrugged. ‘If that is how you choose to describe it.’

One thing however still puzzled Alex. ‘If it’s super secret and designed for high-rankers only, how do you even know about it?’

There was a dangerous look in her eyes at this implied insult. ‘Because I created it, Alex. Myself, and a man named Marcus Cain, back in 1989 when I returned from my work in Afghanistan.’

Alex saw something then at the mention of the man named Cain. A waver in her composure, a chink in the armour. A warrior feeling the twinge of an old wound. He wondered what hold this man had on her, but knew it wasn’t the time to interrupt.

‘I had been disavowed by the Agency after I was captured by the Soviets. I was a ghost. As far as they were concerned, I no longer existed, and it was only because of Marcus that I was able to return to duty. He had just been promoted to leader of the Agency’s Special Activities Division, and I convinced him that we had to change how things were done. There could be no more cover-ups, no denial of knowledge, no more lies and betrayals of our own people. The black list was supposed to represent shared responsibility, to hold us all to a higher standard.’ The anger in her eyes faded, replaced by a look of sadness and guilt; the look of someone reflecting on old failures. ‘It did not work as I’d hoped.’

Her expression told its own story. ‘So what do you expect to get from this list now?’

‘Six years ago I was ambushed and captured by Russian agents during a mission in Iraq.’ Anya looked away and chewed her lip, saying nothing for a few moments. Clearly this wasn’t a comfortable topic for her. ‘I spent a long time in one of their prisons because of it. But the ambush was no random accident – they knew where and how to find me, which means someone in the Agency told them. Someone made the decision to betray me.’

The look of absolute, cold-blooded conviction in her eyes told him there would be no mercy shown for those responsible. ‘Not many people even knew I existed then, never mind where and how to find me. Such a decision could only have been made at the highest levels of power.’

‘What do you mean? The White House? The president?’

She let out a derisive snort that might have been a grim laugh.

‘Presidents change. Administrations come and go. The men I am talking about are far more… permanent than that. They have held onto their power for so long, fought so hard and sacrificed so much for it, that they would never give it up. They no longer answer to the White House or anyone else, because no politician who holds that office for a few years can hope to control them. Most presidents don’t even know they exist.’

‘So who the hell are they?’

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I never met them directly. At least, none of the top members. Apparently I was not considered… reliable enough. Only Marcus seemed to know who and what they really were. He called them the Circle, said they were made up of senior men from nearly all branches of the government, even the military.’

Alex had heard conspiracy theories about secret organisations like this a million times before, from documentaries about the Illuminati and the Freemasons to movies with shadow government agencies as the antagonists. Even coming from someone like Anya, his innate cynicism wouldn’t allow him to accept it outright.

‘So you’re saying there’s some secret group of power brokers secretly controlling the government?’ he scoffed. ‘Meetings in impractically dark rooms, all that stuff?’

‘Is it really so hard to believe that there are men in positions of power who prefer not to have their own Wikipedia page?’ Halvorsen asked him. ‘The world we live in is more complex than you could imagine, and what you see on the surface doesn’t always reflect the reality beneath.’

Alex looked to Anya, hoping she could shed more light on it. ‘Let me guess – they’re trying to take over the world, right?’

She shook her head with the weary resignation of one who had long anticipated such doubts. ‘They have no interest in taking over the world, as you put it. And they don’t meet in dark rooms. They rarely gather in one place at all, in fact, because there is no need. Their purpose is to preserve the world, at least as they see it, by keeping it in balance. They can do this not just because they are powerful, but because they are free. Free to act, to do what has to be done without worrying about media reaction or opinion polls or congressional hearings. They are free, because as far as the world is concerned, they don’t exist.’

Alex frowned, surprised by the tone of her description. ‘You sound like you admire them.’

‘I believed in their purpose, at least for a while,’ she admitted. ‘Because I knew well enough that doing the right thing was not the same as doing the popular thing. Some people had to be there to do what others were not prepared to. I believed in them, even believed I could become one of them. For a while.’

Alex was stunned by what he’d heard. Never had he imagined the complex history behind her actions, or the scale of what she was attempting. Not only was she talking about taking on one of the most powerful and dangerous agencies in the world, but a group of men so influential and secretive that even she didn’t know their true identities or the full extent of their influence.

Halvorsen however was more concerned with their present situation. ‘You said you had a way to recover this file. How?’

Anya nodded and gestured to Alex. ‘Tell him what you told me.’

He took a breath, trying to compose his chaotic thoughts and express the complex technical problem facing him in simple terms. Halvorsen didn’t look like the kind of guy to understand the complexities of server-gateway access protocols.

The older man listened patiently while Alex did his best to describe his hacking attempt earlier in the day, his breach of the CIA’s system and his attempt to download the Black List, and finally his discovery that the file had been backed up automatically online.

‘The only way to get our hands on the Black List without being detected is to physically go to the server where the file is stored, connect to it and manually download. It’s ugly, but it’s pretty much our only option at this point.’

The Norwegian intelligence officer rubbed his chin, pondering what he’d said. ‘And if you do this, the Agency will know nothing of it?’

‘Assuming we do it properly, and quickly,’ Alex agreed. ‘Sooner or later they’ll figure out the ghost drive just like I did. And we’ve got a few… hurdles to overcome.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, first of all the server building is in Istanbul. Second is physical security on-site. I can give you the IP address to find the building, but we’ll need as much information as possible about the place to plan a way in. Security protocols, staff on duty, even the keycard system they use for internal doors. Three, we need a way of getting into the country without being arrested.’

‘Alex’s identity is compromised,’ Anya explained. ‘He has no passport, no entry visa, no driver’s license. He needs a whole new identity, and I don’t have time to create one for him. We also need transport to Istanbul that avoids customs and border checks, which means diplomatic identities for both of us.’ She eyed Halvorsen hard. ‘That is where you come in.’

Halvorsen chuckled, his hands resting on his ample stomach. ‘You don’t ask for much, do you? Basically you want me to give you all of the resources and intelligence to mount your own covert operation.’

Anya spread her hands in a gesture of reluctant acknowledgement. ‘You know I wouldn’t ask if there was another way.’

‘And tell me, what exactly do I get in return?’

At this, Anya raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you want?’

His smile broadened. ‘Come now, Anya. You’re asking me to commit resources, time and effort to this, not to mention put my own career at risk. If I do this for you, I want something in return.’

Alex’s gaze flicked to the woman, looking for a reaction to Halvorsen’s demand. But there was nothing. She could have been a professional poker player, such was her self-control.

However, her response left him in no doubt where she stood on the matter. ‘I can’t give you the Black List.’

Halvorsen shook his head. ‘You misunderstand. I don’t need it all, but I want information about any operation concerning my country. Anything the Agency has been doing here that it shouldn’t have, I want to know about it.’

‘And what will you do with that information, Kristian?’ Anya asked, her tone faintly challenging. ‘Threaten? Blackmail? Profit from it?’

‘Hardly,’ he said, looking almost insulted by her accusation. ‘But the relationship with our friends at Langley is rather… unbalanced these days. They take what they need, and give us only what they see fit. With the Black List, I might just be able to redress the balance.’

Anya said nothing for several seconds. She just there opposite Halvorsen, her piercing blue eyes focussed on his. Alex could practically feel the tension hanging in the air as the seconds stretched out.

Then at last she seemed to reach a decision.

‘Agreed.’

With that, Halvorsen seemed to relax. ‘Then I’d better get moving,’ he said, rising from his chair. ‘I have some phone calls to make. Stay here until I come back, and do not open the door for anyone who isn’t me.’

Anya didn’t need to be told twice. Drawing the USP from her jeans, she laid the weapon down on the table with a heavy
thunk
.

‘Any chance of a takeaway?’ Alex asked without much hope, having searched the fridge and cupboards and found them as disappointingly empty as the rest of the apartment. ‘I’ve got a real craving for a kebab.’

The Norwegian spared him a glance as he donned his overcoat, but said nothing.

‘Thought as much,’ Alex grumbled.

Halting by the door, Halvorsen looked at them both. ‘With luck, I’ll be back soon.’

With that less-than-promising farewell, he departed, leaving Alex and Anya alone.