Black Flagged Apex (72 page)

McLean, Virginia

Karl Berg reviewed the last few slides from the PowerPoint presentation he would present to Thomas Manning in ten minutes. He had been awake much of the night, putting together the first draft of his urgent appeal for the CIA to take action against Vektor Laboratory's bioweapons department. With Reznikov's inside information, they could send General Sanderson's Russian Group to destroy the facility and eliminate key personnel involved in the program. Reznikov felt confident that a small, properly equipped elite force could successfully execute the mission, given the right tactical intelligence…which he would provide.

Audra Bauer joined him for part of the morning, helping him smooth most of the slides. She had already spoken at length with Manning about the threat posed by Vektor labs. Israeli intelligence assets had repeatedly warned the CIA that the Iranians continue to aggressively pursue research positions within Vektor, despite Israel's best efforts. From the CIA assessment of the past decade, Iranian scientists seemed to die from sudden natural causes at a startlingly higher rate than their counterparts in other nations. A scientific career in the fields of biology, chemistry, or physics currently ranks as one of the most hazardous occupations in Iran.

The Israelis have little doubt that the Iranians intend to steal bioweapons samples from the lab, or collaborate with Russian scientists associated with the program. Recent grumblings from their Mossad liaison left Manning and Bauer with the impression that Israel was no longer satisfied with the CIA's backseat approach to the Iranian's unquenchable thirst for weapons of mass destruction. Manning had dodged three meeting requests from the Mossad liaison since the president appeared on national television to explain the domestic terrorist attack on the nations' water supply. They both knew what Wiljam Minkowitz would say. Time for the U.S. to step up.

Berg's job wouldn't be to convince Manning of the necessity to target Vektor. Manning was already primed to take their efforts to the next level. His presentation was designed to convince Manning that they could win the director's approval, which would ultimately impact their chances of winning over the president. Without the president's approval, Berg would have to make some difficult choices. Drop the topic entirely, or take the operation "off the books." He didn't think an unsanctioned black op would be feasible in this situation. Novosibirsk was the third-largest city in Russian, nearly 200 miles beyond the Kazakhstan border. Getting Sanderson's team to the target wasn't the problem. Evading the massive military and police response from the Novosibirsk Oblast would be impossible without significant, targeted intervention. The feasibility of this operation depended upon White House support, which shouldn't be entirely difficult to win given the fact that a weaponized virus from Vektor labs nearly decapitated the government.

His STE (Secure Terminal Equipment) desk set rang, indicating a secure call from the operations watch center. He picked up the handset, which triggered the automatic negotiation of cryptographic protocols within the removable Fortezza Crypto Card inserted into his phone. Unique identifiers built into the card's cryptographic processor verified that Karl Berg was on one end of the call and that the operations watch center was on the other. STE technology represented a major improvement over the STU-III system, where the cryptographic processor was built into the phone, and provided no unique identification procedures. With the STE system, Karl Berg could insert his card into any STE phone and conduct a secure, encrypted conversation.

"Karl Berg," he answered.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Berg. I have a flash alert data package designated for your eyes only. How do you want me to proceed?"

"You can send it through my secure feed. I don't have time to review the package in the ops center," Berg said.

Berg knew where the package had originated, but he was dying to see the contents.

"Understood. You now have access to the package."

"Thank you," Berg said and disconnected the call.

He navigated to the CIA Operations intranet gateway and entered a long string of passwords that enabled access to his secure feed. He found the data package in question and opened it.

A separate screen opened, showing eight data sets, all of which contained a hyperlink. He opened the one showing the longest period of time, which ended three minutes ago in Sweden. "19:17.24GMT/13:17.24EST-19:23.53GMT/13:23.53EST."

The hyperlink activated a data recording captured by one of the motion-activated, night vision capable cameras hidden in the Viggbyholm safe house's fire detectors. Located on the ceiling of each room, the cameras provided a searchable three hundred and sixty degree view within each space. The recording showed a three-man team enter the kitchen from the door leading into the backyard and proceed to wait for two minutes. Each operative wore latest generation Russian night vision monocles and carried the same type of submachine guns used by the Zaslon Spetsnaz team in Stockholm.

After two minutes, the house lights came on, momentarily blinding the camera as the smart-sensor switched camera lens inputs. Definitely not your garden-variety operatives. He guessed they were some variation of SVR Spetsnaz. A fourth operative joined them through the back door, and they proceeded to search the house. Berg toggled through the other hyperlinks, which showed the team conducting a quick, yet thorough investigation of the empty house. He returned to the first link, which was still running, and almost missed the most important part of the data feed. The lead operative removed a small, black electronic device from his backpack and immediately ordered the team's evacuation. Less than fifteen seconds later, the scene went dark, replaced by the green image of an empty kitchen. The team leader knew that their raid didn't go unnoticed.

Berg sat back in his chair and considered the situation. He hadn't expected the Russians to forget about Reznikov. Given what the crazed scientist had told him over vodka shots and gourmet food, he was surprised that they hadn't heard more from the Russians. Of course, the Russians were still dealing with the staggering fallout caused by Reznikov's manmade disaster in Monchegorsk. Compound that with Reznikov's link to the terrorist plot in the United States, and the Russians didn't really have a basis to object on any level. Everything led back to a program that supposedly didn't exist.

As predicted, the Russians would dig around quietly for Reznikov. But how long would their efforts remain below the surface? The Spetsnaz team in the video didn't look like they would have passed up the opportunity to take down anyone found in the house. The big question was where would they go next? If Berg was pulling the strings, he'd start with the Stockholm embassy.

Three members of the CIA station knew critical details about Petrovich's operation. One of them was temporary assigned to his staff, while she awaited her next assignment, which took her out of play. This left the Stockholm embassy's CIA station chief and her assistant station chief. The Russians wouldn't dare touch the station chief, but if pressed, they might make a move on the station's second-in-charge. This was the only move that made sense.

Given the sensitivity of Reznikov's circumstances, it would be reasonable for the Russians to assume that the details of the operation had been restricted to the most senior CIA officer at the station. In this case, neither the station chief or her assistant knew the identity of the target, but this wasn't something he could pass on to the Russians to dissuade them from taking regrettable action. All he could do was warn Emily Bradshaw that the Russians were actively prowling the streets of Stockholm. He opened a different internet directory and located the station chief's after hours contact information.

Excerpt from
The Jakarta Pandemic

Prologue

Alex checked his watch for the tenth time in less than twenty minutes. 5:50 p.m.

Where are they?

He had started to lose his patience early, which came as no surprise. He had been lying under the McCarthy's play set for nearly an hour, as a vicious Nor'easter dumped thick waves of snow on him. This would be enough to test anyone's patience…and physical limits.

He lowered his night vision scope for a moment and rubbed his eyes. Now, even the green image in the scope added to his discomfort. He just hoped that Charlie was keeping a better watch
over the stretch of ground that defined the ambush site.

He'd better be, or they could stumble right through here undetected.

Alex had doubts about spotting them with his night vision scope. The near absence of ambient light combined with a blinding snowstorm continued to degrade the already grainy image formed by the inexpensive first generation night scope.

He twisted open the green ceramic thermos and poured the last of the hot tea prepared for him by Kate. He sipped the steaming tea from the thermos cap, placed the cap down next to the rifle in front of him, and took another look through the night vision scope. He could still see the Hayes' house, but the image was even grainier. He knew the batteries were not the issue; he'd just changed them. Soon enough, he'd have to rely solely on Charlie to spot them in time to spring a coordinated ambush. If not, he'd have to take the three men down himself, which wasn't optimal, but was still well within his range of capabilities. He didn't want to think about what could happen if they slipped by him. Nothing would stand between these psychopaths and his family.

As long as I see them before they're right on top of me, I'll be fine.

Alex swigged the rest of the warm tea and replaced the lid. He tucked the thermos into his backpack and checked his rifle again. Looking through the Aimpoint scope, he saw that the red dot still glowed brightly in the center of the sight. He pulled back on the AR-15's charging handle and ejected the bullet loaded in the chamber, leaving the brass cartridge in the snow where two other bullets lay. He'd ejected one bullet every half-hour to ensure that the freezing temperatures had not affected the weapon's mechanical action. A malfunction tonight would spell disaster.

He suffered a sudden, violent, and insuppressible full body shiver, which rendered him useless for a few seconds. He couldn't last out here all night, and he knew it. He looked through the night vision scope again, and the green image confirmed that he was still alone. Staring through the scope, he wondered how it was possible for things to have spiraled so far out of control.

So far gone, in fact, that he now found himself lying under a neighbor's play set in a blizzard, eagerly waiting to kill. He never thought twice about doing this in Iraq. It was his mission. He didn't really have any problem with it here either, and he could rationalize this act on several levels. He had to do it: for the good of the neighborhood, and probably society in general, but most importantly…for the immediate safety of his family.

And in the end, that was all that really counted for Alex.

Arrival

Chapter One

Friday, November 2, 2013

Alex was jarred awake by a loud pulsing vibration
.
He squinted in the darkness and labored to turn his head toward the source of the persistent buzzing sound.

Shit, my iPhone.

The phone's display illuminated a half empty glass of water on the nightstand. He watched, still helpless, as the phone moved closer to the edge with each vibration. Breaking through the murk of a broken sleep cycle, he reached for the phone to check the caller ID.
Maine Medical Center.
A jolt of adrenaline shot through his body, and Alex headed out of the bedroom to the hallway.

"Alex Fletcher," he answered in a whisper.

"Oh…Alex. It's Dr. Wright. I thought I'd get your voicemail."

Dr. Wright was the head of the Maine Medical Center's Infectious Disease Department.

"No problem, Dr. Wright. I usually don't keep my phone on the nightstand. Just happened to end up there tonight," he said, closing the door to the master bedroom.

"I'm glad you're awake, Alex. I'm fairly confident we've seen our first cases of the new pandemic flu tonight. Cases started rolling into the ERs early this evening."

"You said 'ERs'. More than one?"

"Yes. Three cases at Maine Med. Two came from Westbrook and one from Falmouth. And one case at Mercy, patient walked over from somewhere in the west end. I also have a confirmed case at Maine General in Augusta and possible cases at Eastern Maine Med up in Bangor."

"Confirmed as what?"

"Confirmed as nothing I've ever seen before. That's why I think we're dealing with this new virus out of Hong Kong," Dr. Wright said.

"That's more than six cases. How did this pop up here first and not Boston? It doesn't make a lot of sense."

"Boston has been hit with several dozen cases, possibly more."

"What do you mean? I didn't see anything on the news, or on any of the websites. We've been keeping an eye on this," Alex said.

"I don't know what to tell you, but I know for a fact that Boston has been slammed. A friend of mine at Mass General called to tell me to get ready. He said that area hospitals in Boston saw dozens of cases trickle in overnight Wednesday, with more showing up as the day progressed. Several dozen more by the time I talked to him."

"Why didn't the media catch this yet?" he asked.

"Well, between you and me, and I don't have to remind you that this entire conversation never happened—"

"Of course. Absolutely, Dr. Wright," Alex said instantly.

"We have been instructed by the state health department to report all cases directly to them so they can coordinate resources and notify federal health agencies. I assume that direction filtered down from DHS. They also asked us not to notify the media, in order to avoid a panic. I can understand part of that logic, but if you ask me, I think they're trying to keep this under wraps because they're not prepared. Unfortunately, this is the only direction we've received so far from the state or feds. Or maybe that's a good thing for now. Aside from rushing us more useless avian flu detection kits, nothing else has been done. Alex, I have to let you go. I have a long night ahead of me."