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Authors: Steven Konkoly

BOOK: Vektor
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The president glanced at James Quinn, his National Security Advisor, who was still sifting through the documents to find the one Berg had referenced. Quinn sensed his stare and looked down the table at the president, nodding.

“This is a significant development, Mr. President, especially in light of the recent attack on the U.S. by domestic terrorists. Mossad confirms that one of the operatives is working inside of Vektor?” Quinn asked.

“That’s correct. Like our own CDC, Vektor hosts international scientists. They just don’t have the same selection standards,” Berg explained.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get rid of the Iranians?” the president suggested. “Cut off the nexus between Iran and Vektor?”

The CIA director stepped into the conversation, which relieved the president. He was starting to get the impression that this previously unknown CIA officer was running the show at Langley.

“Mr. President, neutralizing the two Iranian operatives would be a temporary fix. Iran would send more scientists, and we’d be back to square one. On top of that, the Israelis would be blamed for the killings, which would further strain Russian-Israeli relations. Mossad appears extremely hesitant to conduct operations on Russian soil,” Copley said.

“So they get us to do their dirty work,” the president said.

“They’ve done the lion’s share of the dirty work for as long as I can remember. With all due respect, Mr. President, it’s our turn to take up this fight.”

“I agree, Director Copley,” the president said, “I just wish our turn didn’t involve blowing up Russia’s equivalent to the CDC.”

“The raid will be confined to the bioweapons facility. Unlike the CDC’s P4 containment labs, which are buried within a massive multi-story building situated in an urban center, Vektor Labs remains isolated, and its different research labs are well separated. The P4 containment facility housing the bioweapons program is at the far end of the virology campus. The raid itself will be surgical, with highly specific objectives. Non-lethal methods will be employed if practical. We anticipate minimal local casualties at the site. Best of all, we get our hands dirty from a distance. Sanderson’s crew is untraceable.”

“They also have a habit of churning up a high body count,” Jacob Remy said. “This is a high-stakes game we’re playing here.”

“They understand the stakes better than the rest of us,” Berg said.

“Good,” the president said, “because I won’t allow U.S. military assets to violate Russian sovereignty. I’ve spoken with General Frank Gordon, and SOCOM will provide helicopter support for the extraction, but only in Kazakhstan. Sanderson’s people are on their own until they cross the Kazakhstan border.”

“Can they count on drone support?” the CIA director asked.

“Not over Russian airspace. If General Gordon needs drones for surveillance, he can have them, but the same rules of engagement apply to unmanned vehicles,” the president said.

“They shouldn’t experience any problems getting to the border,” Berg said, hoping to steer the conversation away from drones. “Sanderson’s crew will be guided by local sympathizers during their exfiltration.”

The president looked up from one of the documents in time to see Director Copley flash Berg a faintly quizzical look. Thomas Manning, the CIA’s National Security Branch director remained stoic, almost too stoic compared to the normal array of facial expressions he had previously displayed throughout the briefing. This should be interesting. He decided to take whatever bait Berg was offering.

“Sympathizers?” Remy asked. “Do we have a massive sleeper cell network in the Novosibirsk region?”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it? We’re looking at something homegrown. Since the dawn of time, a nation state’s internal enemies served as its external enemies’ best friends. These are turbulent and corrupt times for Russia, and they have no shortage of internal enemies. One in particular will be extremely valuable. If you’ll turn to the memo with the subject line ‘Kola Activist Group,’ you’ll see that our intelligence analysts have linked two very recent car bombings and three murders to a Russian-based eco-terrorist group.

“Historically, this group has been active in the northern regions around Monchegorsk and Norilsk, where widespread ecosystem poisoning by industrial pollutants has been a contentious, often violent issue for decades. In response to the Russian Federation’s brutal crackdown on Monchegorsk, the eco-terrorist group has renewed attacks and promised continued reprisals against the government until the truth surrounding Monchegorsk is revealed. Monchegorsk has brought them back to life. Initial contact with their leadership indicates a willingness to provide internal logistical support for the team, especially during the exfiltration phase,” Berg said.

“The Russians aren’t going to believe that this eco-terrorist group destroyed Vektor Labs,” Remy cautioned.

“It doesn’t matter. Even if they don’t help at all, this group’s implied involvement could complicate matters exponentially for the Russians, putting Monchegorsk back in the spotlight. This will help with any political fallout from the mission. The Russians will look for any excuse to sweep this whole thing under the rug as quickly as possible, knowing that we have a connection to this group…and not wanting to reignite Monchegorsk.”

The president looked to his National Security Advisor for any final thoughts. “James. Anything to add? Can you see any reason why we shouldn’t proceed?”

“No, Mr. President. With the Iranians involved at Vektor, we can assume it’s only a matter of time before they get their hands on something similar to the Zulu virus or develop the expertise to start their own program. The use of Sanderson’s team keeps official U.S. assets off Russian Federation soil, maintaining the requisite amount of plausible deniability and distance required on the diplomatic front. I don’t see any impediments. The State Department will have to prepare a special song and dance for this one, but I don’t foresee any unmanageable fallout. The Russians got caught with their hands in the cookie jar with this one.”

“Jacob?” the president asked.

“They’re going to know we did this. I’m worried about an escalation. The Russians have already taken the unprecedented step of abducting a high-ranking CIA officer. Can we keep this from escalating?” Remy said.

“We’ve had a development in the overall situation related to Stockholm,” Director Copley said. “Their trail just went cold.”

The president didn’t like Copley’s choice of words. Dead bodies “went cold.” Berg suddenly looked uncomfortable for the first time since walking through the door.

“Is this something we need to be worried about?” the president said.

“Negative. It’s a complicated maneuver, but it should stop the SVR investigation in its tracks,” Berg said.

“The last time their investigation stalled, they kick-started it by kidnapping a CIA officer,” Remy said.

“There’s no chance of the Russians repeating that,” Berg said.

“And how, exactly, can you be so sure?” Remy said.

The president knew the answer to his chief of staff’s question, calculating that Berg had floated the statement in an attempt to goad his often-overzealous chief into stepping on another landmine.

“Because Ian Reese isn’t tied to a chair in a dark basement, praying for some kind of negotiation that will secure his release. He’s dead, and his body will never be recovered. Ian Reese was off limits, and the Russians knew it from the start. He was dead as soon as they kicked in his apartment door. Since he was marked for death, the Russians had no reason to hold back on his interrogation. I guarantee he told them everything the station knew about the operation, which wasn’t much. They likely confirmed the timing of our leaked information, which helped focus their internal investigation…but we just yanked the rug out from under that.”

“Is it your assessment that the Vektor raid will be interpreted as a standalone event?” the president asked.

“Like Mr. Remy stated, the Russians will connect it to the overall situation, Mr. President, but it won’t escalate the SVR’s blood vendetta. This will fall squarely in the Federal Security Service’s lap…and of course Putin’s, who is unlikely to overreact,” the director said.

“Director Copley, you are authorized to proceed with this operation. What are we looking at in terms of timeline?”

“The first elements will depart tonight. We could have this wrapped up within a week. Two weeks at the most.”

The president regarded the three CIA officers seated in front of him: Director Copley, Thomas Manning and their new agent provocateur, Karl Berg. Until their first meeting a few days back, Berg’s name had never materialized in the White House. He couldn’t figure out what he didn’t like about the man, but something set off his internal alarm. Nothing substantial, just a gut feeling. James Quinn had never heard of him either, which surprised the president. Quinn knew everybody with political capital inside the Beltway…and outside. It was almost like they had dragged this guy out of the basement for the first time. Whoever he might be, the president could assume one thing—the man was deeply connected to the operation, which meant he was linked to Sanderson. Maybe that was his hesitation with Berg. How did a CIA deputy director get embroiled with someone like Sanderson? The answer to that question would likely explain why a small voice inside his head kept whispering that he’d just made a mistake.

“Very well. I want daily updates while the team is moving into place, graduating to more frequent communication as we approach the raid. I’ll monitor the final raid from the Situation Room. This will be a very limited audience. Similar to Stockholm.”

“Understood, Mr. President,” Director Copley said.

The president stood, signaling an end to the meeting. He walked around the table and shook hands, careful not to betray his distrust of Berg. When he reached Copley, he held the grip a few seconds longer than the rest.

“Robert, keep a close eye on this one,” he said, looking back at Manning and Berg. “You have good people working behind the scenes, but I need your personal supervision to ensure this goes by the book.”

“Of course, Mr. President. Though I don’t think we have a book that covers this kind of operation. We’re writing it as we go,” Copley said.

“Make sure it goes by my book.”

Copley nodded, and the president released his hand. Once the CIA entourage had departed the president’s study, James Quinn, Jacob Remy and the president reconvened at the table.

“So, what do you really think?” the president asked, interlocking his fingers and placing them on the bare table.

“I think we need to make sure that General Gordon and anyone else with tactical authority over the extraction force understands that U.S. forces are not to cross the Kazakhstan-Russian border under any circumstances. Our CIA friends didn’t put up any resistance when you reiterated this position, which gives me an uneasy feeling. Sanderson still has connections high up in the Department of Defense. That much is clear. We might need some kind of additional failsafe to keep our forces out of Russia.”

“I agree with your assessment, Jacob. I trust Copley will follow my rules. Manning will follow suit. I don’t know what to think about Karl Berg. Until recently, his name has never surfaced, which leads me to believe that he has been intimately involved in the planning of this mission—”

“Which means he knows the players all too well,” Remy said.

“Exactly,” the president agreed. “If he’s been working with Sanderson since Stockholm, we have to assume their history goes back even further.”

“How far?” Remy said.

“That’s the question. How far is Berg willing to go for Sanderson and his people?” the president asked.

 

Chapter 25

9:32 AM

CIA Headquarters

Mclean, Virginia

Karl Berg hunched over his desk and stared at the mess of notes chronicling his efforts to keep “Operation Black Fist” on track. He’d just brokered one of Reznikov’s calls to his
bratva
contact in Moscow, who had assured the scientist that a sizable sum of money had been transferred to seal the deal between the Solntsevskaya Bratva and foreign mercenary operatives assigned to carry out the raid against Vektor Laboratories. Sizable was an understatement. Berg had just wired the largest sum he’d ever handled to a Panamanian bank account, which would no doubt bounce around between several discreet international accounts before finally landing in a Russian bank account.

If the
bratva
contact brokering this deal wasn’t already one of the 150,000 or so millionaires living in Moscow, he could now add that distinction to his title. A grand total of five-point-two million dollars secured a personal assurance of cooperation from a mystery voice at the other end of a completely untraceable phone number. Audra Bauer had suggested they make their best attempt to confirm the general location of the
bratva
contact in order to provide Manning and the director with some kind of reasonable assurance that they weren’t feeding five million dollars to one of Reznikov’s close friends.

As expected, the NSA’s best efforts to trace the call resulted in a scattershot of locations that changed several times every second as the data signal was redirected through dozens of networks internationally. The NSA’s best guess based on the signal’s travel patterns indicated continental Europe, which was good enough for Berg to pass on his own assurances through Bauer.

Berg didn’t suspect this was a money scam on Reznikov’s part. He’d made it perfectly clear to the scientist that he would die swiftly if his
bratva
contacts betrayed them in any way. Reznikov remained adamant that they would uphold their end of the bargain if the CIA met their price. He’d negotiated them down from their initial request for six million dollars, which he knew was more than they expected to receive up front. He played the game, working them down to the exorbitant price of five-point-two million dollars. A king’s ransom under normal circumstances, but less than he anticipated paying in the end. He fully expected a last-minute “glitch” requiring another eight hundred thousand dollars. He was prepared to spread around some of Sanderson’s money when that phone call came.

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