Vektor (22 page)

Involving the Russian mob had been a necessary compromise that had been vetted on several levels. The CIA’s own analysts had assured Berg that the Solntsevskaya Bratva had a notorious reputation for honoring contracts, or more specifically, punishing those that didn’t honor their commitments. Recent historical cases indicated that this informal code worked both ways and that the Solntsevskaya Bratva enforced breeches of agreement made by their own members. Reputation was everything to them, and this included business dealings outside of their inner circle. Still, analysts warned him that high-level
bratva
members displayed opportunistic tendencies when confronted with large sums of money.

He couldn’t give the analysts any specific details of the operation, but their final warning fueled Berg’s sole fear regarding the mafiya. He could envision an enterprising
bratva
soldier selling them out to the Russian government in exchange for more money and other lucrative favors. Sanderson’s team would remain on high alert throughout every stage of the operation, searching for signs of betrayal. Farrington had been ordered to abandon the mission at the first sign of trouble related to their mafiya contacts. They simply couldn’t take any chances once they were on Russian soil. Getting out of Novosibirsk would be difficult enough under the best of circumstances.

He shuffled one of the papers to the top of the mess on his desk. Sanderson’s request for detailed information regarding Vektor Labs. Onsite security protocols. Recent facility upgrades. Military response procedures. Anything and everything that Alexei Kaparov, director of the Bioweapons/Chemical Threat Assessment Division, should know about Russia’s premiere virology and biotechnology research center and former Biopreparat site. He couldn’t blame Sanderson for demanding more information, especially regarding the P4 containment building and any security response protocols. CIA intelligence confirmed a reduced security posture in terms of onsite personnel with the addition of automated cameras and an additional perimeter fence, but this just meant that the real threats could be better concealed. For all they knew, the number of security personnel remained the same, but the number of visible patrols had decreased due to expanded visual coverage provided by the cameras.

Kaparov should be able to shed some final light on the security arrangements. He hated to put this kind of pressure on him, but “Operation Black Fist” was gaining critical momentum and he couldn’t afford to lose Sanderson’s enthusiasm. Farrington’s crew was less than twenty-four hours from crossing the line of departure. He picked up the phone and called a redirect number designated to ring the most recent cell phone number provided by Kaparov. He just hoped that his friend hadn’t decided to throw all of his remaining cell phones in the Moscow River. There was no way he could risk calling Kaparov’s desk. Pavrikova’s kidnapping wouldn’t fade from FSB or SVR attention for quite some time, and he couldn’t assume that her sudden departure would be interpreted to mean that she was the sole leak at Lubyanka Square.

He let the phone ring nearly a dozen times before hanging up. This wasn’t a good sign. In the past, Kaparov’s cell phones always went to voice mail in half that time. He tried the number one more time, achieving the same dismal result. His next call went to Sanderson, who picked up immediately.

“How are we looking?” Sanderson said.

“Everything is on track. The
bratva
deal has been sealed. Five-point-two million dollars. Just for the record, nobody is happy about that number on my end.”

“Of course not. The concept of ‘you get what you pay for’ is anathema to bureaucrats. Frankly, I’m surprised you got off that easy,” Sanderson said.

“Oh, I fully expect to be shaken down for more as we get closer to the objective. You’ll have to cough up the rest. Given the look on Manning’s face when I gave him the figure, I can’t imagine wrangling another dollar out of them…let alone a million,” Berg said.

“I’ll cover the rest. If my guess is right, they won’t call you directly. They’ll shake the team down at the worst possible moment. I’ve prepared Farrington for this possibility.”

“Good. Farrington will contact ‘Viktor’ directly from this point forward.”

“Viktor. Vektor. That’s the best he could do?”

“Viktor doesn’t sound like much of a conversationalist. He’s been my direct contact from the start, but he isn’t the brigadier that Reznikov originally contacted. He’s probably someone highly trusted within this brigadier’s own personal network. One of his most loyal
boyeviks,
” Berg said. “Viktor will personally oversee
bratva
operations in Novosibirsk, so Farrington can expect to meet him face to face. He expects to hear from you once the team is assembled in Russia.”

“That works fine. Any progress with your friend in Moscow?”

Berg winced at the mere suggestion of Kaparov’s existence. He knew that his own line was secure and that Sanderson’s satellite phone couldn’t be intercepted by anyone outside of the NSA, but it still made him nervous. It was bad enough that Sanderson was leveraging his knowledge of Kaparov. He didn’t need anyone within his own organization leaning on him in the future. His agency had a bad habit of applying too much pressure to valuable sources. They squeezed and squeezed until the source popped, which was an easy thing to do sitting behind a desk, where no real dangers existed.

“He’s not answering his phone at the moment. Give him some time. I know he’ll come through. He knows the stakes,” he answered.

“All too well perhaps,” Sanderson said. “My people took one hell of a risk in Moscow on his behalf.”

“On my behalf. He’s invaluable to us. I’ll bring him around, even if I have to fly to Moscow myself to convince him.”

“Cold War old-timers’ reunion?” Sanderson asked.

“I’ll make sure you get an invitation.”

Berg’s desk phone rang. The digital readout screen of the STE (Secure Terminal Equipment) phone unit indicated that the call was encrypted. Further examination of the data presented confirmed that the call had been rerouted through the CIA’s call redirection center.

“Terrence, let me call you back. I have an important call from Moscow,” Berg said.

“My team needs that information before leaving Argentina,” Sanderson stated.

“I understand. You sound like a fucking broken record sometimes.”

He quickly transferred calls.

“You’re still at work?” he said as a greeting. “I thought you might have been on the Metro.”

“Of course I’m still at work. I don’t work lazy capitalist hours. What is it you have there? Working nine to five? Ridiculous,” Kaparov said.

“I think that was a movie starring Dolly Parton,” Berg said.

“Country music combined with massive tits. Now there is something America can be proud of,” Kaparov said.

“Sounds like you’re in a good mood. Out for a walk?” Berg asked, noting the sound of car horns and buzzing motors in the background.

“I’m just enjoying a peaceful cigarette amidst the carbon monoxide cloud of Moscow’s interminable rush-hour traffic.”

“Very poetic,” Berg said.

“Literature was never one of my strong suits in school. Why do I get the feeling that my time out of the frying pan was short lived?”

“Am I that transparent?” Berg asked. “I might be calling to wish you well.”

“I’m doing wonderful,” Kaparov replied. “Shall I hang up now?”

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t. We’re very close to crossing the point of no return with the operation we discussed, but there are still quite a few unknowns.”

“Even with our mutual friend’s information?”

“He provided enough details to get the operation approved, but he hasn’t set foot on the grounds in over three years,” Berg said.

“Damn it! Do you understand the level of scrutiny surrounding that program? Especially now?”

“I can imagine,” Berg said.

“No! You cannot! I have already been personally warned by my director not to pry into a certain northern city. Accessing information regarding the facility in question would certainly raise alarms.”

“And exactly how are you supposed to do your job as director of the Bioweapons/Chemical Threat Assessment Division?”

“Very fucking carefully, that’s how. For now, I’d prefer to avoid initiating any inquiries having the faintest connection to our mutual friend,” Kaparov said.

“Do you have any personal knowledge that could shed some light on security protocols or response procedures?”

“Sure. I spend all of my time analyzing and assessing the vulnerabilities of locations that pose no threat to Russia. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but the facility in question isn’t exactly advertised for its true purpose.”

“But it’s one of two legitimate repositories for something that concerns your division,” Berg said.

“If I suddenly show an interest in the facility, it will raise eyebrows. If the facility in question is breached soon after, I’ll face a firing squad…if I’m lucky.”

“We can always get you out,” Berg stated.

“Two in one month? Do you get a prize if you reach a certain number?”

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Is there any way to do this without attracting attention?”

“I might have some paper files with the information you seek. I’ll have to do the digging myself. We conducted a routine security assessment of the facility sixteen months ago, about five months after they upgraded to a more automated security posture. Contract security force, cameras, motion detectors. Nothing too exotic.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this from the beginning? This is exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Because I wanted you to sweat a little. See how long it would take you to try and leverage the favor your friends did on my behalf,” Kaparov said.

“I wouldn’t have leveraged that.”

“I didn’t sweat you long enough,” Kaparov replied.

“True. How long will it take you to retrieve the files?”

“I should be able to pass along the information sometime tomorrow. If you can wait that long.”

“We can wait. I’ll put my people in Moscow on notice. Your choice of drop method?”

“One time dead drop. I’ll call you with the location. Expect a digital format.”

“Digital. Not microfiche? I’m impressed,” Berg said.

“You’d have to dig the reader out of your museum, and I don’t want to delay the process. My cigarette is finished. Back to work.”

“You really should give up smoking. Takes years off your life,” Berg said.

“So does talking to you, but I still return your calls. I’ll be in touch.”

Berg replaced the receiver and smiled. This was good news. All of the pieces were falling into place. Within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, the operation would be on autopilot until exfiltration. Unfortunately, the final pieces of the “exfil” puzzle couldn’t be snapped into place until the very last moment. All he could do right now was move the pieces closer together. Even then, there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t be left without the last piece.

Chapter 26

9:11 PM

Tverskoy District

Moscow, Russian Federation

Matvey Penkin turned in his black leather office chair and faced Valery, who was seated at a sleek metal conference desk toward the back of Penkin’s inner sanctum. Deep, rust-colored rays of light from the day’s fading sun streamed through the partially canted vertical blinds that covered the penthouse’s bullet-resistant windows, slicing across the rear wall to dissect his young associate.

“It’s done. We’ve found Reznikov,” he said.

“Unbelievable,” Valery said, looking up from his own laptop.

“Money and leverage works miracles,” Penkin said.

He’d spent more than a decade carefully collecting intelligence regarding the other brigadiers under his boss, filing the knowledge and evidence away for future use. The brigadier responsible for maintaining the
bratva
’s network of military contacts made a habit of underreporting the value of the military hardware that passed through his hands. He’d served their boss well, turning out an endless supply of hard-to-acquire weapons from unscrupulous and previously underpaid non-commissioned and commissioned army officers, but by Penkin’s estimation, he didn’t kick back nearly enough to Maksimov. Based on his own personal experience with their boss, there was simply no way the math worked out in his colleague’s favor. The only explanation was a clever system of underreporting.

This blackmail alone would have been enough to force his cooperation, but strong-arm tactics like that yielded short-term gains and longtime enemies. Penkin didn’t want to start a war, especially around such a controversial operation. He offered the brigadier a quarter of a million dollars, along with a gentle reminder that his cooperation was not optional. He got the message and took the money without asking a single question. Within several hours, he was back, requesting an additional fifty thousand dollars. Redirecting a Sixth Directorate GRU satellite apparently commanded a hefty price. The additional money was well worth the payoff.

Not only did the Sixth Directorate contact intercept the conversation, but more importantly, they were able to pinpoint the location of Reznikov’s satellite phone. Positioning the Russian SIGINT satellite among the geostationary government communications satellites dedicated to handling traffic out of Vermont and most of upper New England, proprietary software stolen from the Americans and installed aboard the satellite enabled a technological miracle that defied conventional navigation logic.

The software ordered the satellite to intermittently slow itself below geostationary orbital speed, while frequently altering course during the satellite call. Hundreds of minute adjustments were made throughout the duration of the satellite call, allowing the software to combine several navigational techniques in reverse to locate the L-Band satellite signal. By the end of the thirteen-minute call, they had narrowed his location down to a ten-kilometer by ten-kilometer area in northeastern Vermont.