Commander-In-Chief (13 page)

T
he office of The Campus was on Fairfax Street in Alexandria, Virginia, with views over the Potomac River. Autumn had come to Virginia weeks before; now the red and yellow leaves blew down the narrow streets of Old Town as John Clark’s Chevy Suburban rolled into the neighborhood and then descended into the underground parking garage below the Hendley Associates Building. He noticed the four-car convoy of vehicles the director of national intelligence always traveled in had not yet arrived.

He’d changed into fresh jeans and a button-down shirt back at home, but as soon as he entered the building he went to his office to grab a blue blazer out of his closet. He was just heading back out on his way to the conference room when Domingo Chavez and Dominic Caruso stepped into the hallway from the elevator.

All three men entered the fourth-floor conference room and poured coffee for themselves out of an urn. A tray of danishes and bagels sat on the middle of the table, and Dom and Ding both dug in.

Gerry entered a few minutes later with Mary Pat Foley. She shook the men’s hands and sat down at the head of the table.

She started by asking, “Where’s Jack Junior?”

Gerry said, “Forgot to tell you. We have him in the field. In Rome, actually. He’s got a line on a network of shell companies being used to launder money out of Russia. Not sure how wide or deep the network is yet, but he feels strongly that he has them linked to Mikhail Grankin, Volodin’s confidant. The hope is we can pass this on to DOJ to get more of Grankin’s assets in the West seized.”

Mary Pat nodded appreciatively. “The son has become the father.”

Dom said, “In all ways other than politics. Jack’s got no use for it.”

Mary Pat looked at Clark with a smile. “John and I remember a time when Jack Senior said the same thing.”

“Sure do,” Clark agreed. “Wonder how much he likes it now, even.”

Ding said, “Mary Pat, we haven’t seen you since Sam’s funeral. I guess, in some ways, it’s good news if DNI doesn’t drop by that often, from a world-crisis perspective.”

“Yes. But as you see . . . here I am.” She turned to Caruso and Chavez. “I understand you were both injured in the firefight in Germany.”

Chavez still wore a gray bruise on the right side of his face and a cut on his lip. “Dom caught the worst of it.”

Dom said, “It was nothing, really. A little graze to my back. Adara gave me a couple of stitches on the plane ride home. I would like to know more about what happened over there.”

Mary Pat said, “I can help you there. The Germans were on the lookout for a woman named Nuria Méndez. She is Spanish, sort of an ecowarrior who had been wanted for questioning after attacking a pipeline in Hanover last year. They didn’t know she was traveling
with the Russian FSB agent, and they certainly didn’t know there were a dozen other men on the train who were willing to kill to keep her out of the hands of the authorities.”

Dom said, “Do they think she was part of this Earth Movement group that did the attack in Lithuania?”

“They had no intelligence that led them to that conclusion. There was an arrest warrant for Hanover. That’s all.”

Clark said, “Which is why they were totally unprepared to take her in. This certainly makes it look like she was part of something big going on, and something that involved Russian intelligence.”

Mary Pat nodded. “Nothing conclusive here, but we sure would like to get our hands on Ms. Méndez and find out.”

Gerry asked, “What did the Germans learn about the dead guys in the tracksuits?”

“Nothing at all. No documents, no tattoos, no survivors. The six who were killed, either by the police or by you two, are lying in a morgue in Berlin now, so I’d call the entire attack a dead end.”

Clark said, “And Morozov? Up in smoke?”

“Afraid so.” Mary Pat folded her hands in her lap. “But this is not why I am here. I’m not going to shock anyone here by telling you the location of the newest danger zone for the United States.”

Ding said, “I keep thinking the situation with Valeri Volodin can’t possibly get any worse. Time and time again I’m proved wrong. This issue with the Baltics and Kaliningrad seems like it’s coming to a head.”

Mary Pat nodded. “Yes. And this is a particular problem for the U.S. intelligence community.”

Clark finished the thought. “Because the leak from Ukrainian intelligence a year or so ago compromised a lot of CIA assets in the Near East section. I assume you’ve had to move a lot of operations personnel out of the region and replace them.”

She said, “In many cases with younger, less experienced case officers.”

“Ouch,” said Dom.

“The chief of station in Vilnius, Lithuania, is one such example. Peter Branyon. Solid officer, he was in Brazil and Chile for the early part of his career, then did a stint as CoS in Buenos Aires. But after we reshuffled in Central Europe, Jay Canfield sent Branyon to Vilnius. Long-term, he’s got the potential to go to the top of the heap in the Agency, but it’s a tough post right now.”

“And he’s screwing up?” asked Chavez.

“Not at all. He’s really good, in fact. In any normal scenario he’d be able to mature in time. But events on the ground in Lithuania . . . He’s just . . . in a little over his head.”

Hendley asked, “Why can’t you replace him with someone more experienced?”

“Anyone we bring in there is going to be more junior, with less understanding of the lay of the land. Like it or not, for the time being, Pete Branyon is all we’ve got.”

Ding Chavez said, “We could go over there and watch his back.”

Mary Pat did not respond to Chavez directly. Instead, she turned and looked at Hendley. “I had something else in mind, actually. Branyon is cultivating a fair-sized network of agents in the east of Lithuania. These people are absolutely crucial to our understanding of what the Russian or Belarusans are doing along the border. And in case of an invasion, we’ll need good intel behind the lines.”

Gerry raised his eyebrows. “Behind the lines? We are just giving up any pretense that we can hold the Russians back?”

Mary Pat said, “I am not a battlefield commander, but I am told that unless NATO agrees to move forces into Lithuania before an invasion begins, the Russians can take Vilnius at will.”

“That bad, huh?” Dom asked.

Mary Pat nodded somberly. “That’s why a good intelligence picture on the ground is critical. Branyon has a good team, but there are only a dozen case officers, many of whom are new to the region, or even new to the Agency. We simply don’t have the experienced manpower available to assist him. The people who could be helpful are already in Ukraine, in Moscow, in Estonia, in Moldova, in Georgia. Other places just as hot, or nearly as hot, as Lithuania.”

Ding asked, “What is it you need us to do?”

She said, “If you agree to go, I’m going to send you a file. I’ll send a duplicate to Dominic. It’s a list of GPS coordinates, all near the Belarusan border. A big list.”

“What’s at the coordinates?”

“Now, nothing. They are street corners, building rooftops, ditches, fields. Parking lots. To be honest, I don’t know what all you’ll find at the coordinates. But I need you to go to each of these locations and take pictures using a device we will provide you.”

“Pictures of what?”

Mary Pat said, “Of whatever is there.”

Ding cocked his head. “What on earth for?”

“You’ll have to forgive me for this, but I’m not at liberty to say.”

Gerry was taken aback. “You can’t tell me what I’m sending our men to do?”

“It’s for their own good. As you all know, the Russians’ modus operandi before an invasion is to send troops over the border with no markings.
Little Green Men
is what they call them in the media. They intimidate the populace, hold roads and fortified positions for the follow-on troops. But even before they do that, they send over plainclothed operatives. Our guess is there are already foreign infiltrators in Lithuania. If that is the case, and they should, God forbid, take you by force, I don’t want you knowing about the operation you are undertaking.”

That sunk in for a moment, until Mary Pat said, “Obviously, the best situation would be if you didn’t get caught.”

Dom said, “Okay. How many locations are we talking about?”

“There are over four hundred.”

“Wow,” Ding said. “That’s a lot of photography.”

“It is,” Mary Pat agreed. “But you’ll just have to trust me. It is important.”

John Clark said, “We’re not actual members of the intelligence community. How do we do this without raising red flags with CIA station?”

Mary Pat said, “We have an established cover for you. You go in as private intelligence gatherers. You are a private enterprise working with the CIA under contract, which means you can collect atmospherics and data. You can’t run agents, you can’t take part in any sort of direct-action work, officially speaking, of course, but there is no reason you can’t go over there and take some pictures under contract for the ODNI.”

Clark asked, “How are we going to be able to take four hundred photographs out in the open without drawing attention to ourselves?”

Mary Pat said, “I think I can help in that department as well. From time to time we work with an American company that does business in Central Europe. They are electronic technicians, laying fiber-optic Internet cable all over Lithuania, both underground and aboveground on poles. It’s a real company, so the work is real, and twenty-five percent of the workers are from the U.S. Ninety-five percent of the techs working over there have no affiliation with the U.S. intelligence community, but we have a good relationship with the owner of the company, so we can fold you into his operation and you can travel all over the country with no one batting an eyelash. It will get you into buildings, on the streets, wherever you need to go.”

Chavez said, “Excellent. We’ll study the requirements for the job and be ready to hit the ground running when we get there.”

Off a look from Caruso, Mary Pat said, “Dom, is something wrong?”

Caruso gave a half-smile. “That sounds like real work.”

Chavez slapped him on the back, well above his wound. “Don’t worry, kid. As my apprentice, I’ll take good care of you as you enter the exciting world of the fiber-optic field service technician. Of course, you will have to do most of the heavy lifting, dirt digging, and pole climbing. I have to supervise you.”

“Why the hell can’t I be the supervisor and you be the apprentice?”

Chavez said, “I’m older. Seniority has its privileges. Not very many, that’s for sure. But enough to keep me off a pole and out of a ditch.”

Clark had been entertaining the idea that he could go to Lithuania as well, but he realized there was no way he could pass himself off as a cable technician. Sure, he could dig a ditch and drive a truck, but there would be aspects to this physical work that would make it too hard for him to fit in.

Gerry Hendley looked to John Clark. “You’re the director of operations. What do you think?”

Clark didn’t hesitate. “I think the DNI is asking us for help. Ryan is in the field on an analytics job, so Dom and Ding can go. I’ll stay here, help in any way I can from HQ.”

Chavez said, “You sure about that, John? You’re a Russian speaker. We could use you over there.”

“You’re a Russian speaker, too. They speak Lithuanian in Lithuania. If you find yourself needing your Russian very much, that probably means you are in a whole lot of trouble.” There were chuckles around the table, except for Chavez, who only smiled. He looked at
John for another moment, clearly surprised he wasn’t sending himself along for this trip. Finally, Ding extended a hand to Mary Pat Foley. “Sounds good to us. Dom and I will get everything together here and get going as soon as possible.”

Mary Pat shook Ding’s hand and looked to Gerry again. “Obviously, Gerry, if you agree to send your men to Lithuania, you need to be prepared to get them out of there. If an invasion happens, I don’t want Dom and Ding caught behind the lines.”

“That makes three of us,” Dom quipped.

Gerry said, “I’ll have our plane ready to go over there at a moment’s notice. If things look really bad I’ll keep the aircraft at the airport in Vilnius twenty-four/seven so we can exfiltrate them in an hour if necessary.”

“When do we go?” Dom asked.

Mary Pat smiled as she stood. “I’ll leave you boys to work out the details, but as soon as possible would be my choice. I’ll notify Pete Branyon’s station that you’re coming. I want you to know I appreciate your help, and my secure phone is always on me. I’m available whenever you need me.”

Gerry drummed his fingers on the table. “Mary Pat, I’m going to go ahead and address the elephant in the room here. This seems important, maybe more important than we are able to understand at this point, but this doesn’t seem like the kind of crisis that would bring the head of all the U.S. intelligence agencies out on a weekend to make a personal appeal for two operatives to go into a theater to collect data. Are we missing part of the puzzle here?”

Mary Pat shook her head. “I’m not hiding part of the mission or anything like that. I could have done this over the phone with you, Gerry, and left you to task your men. But I wanted to come in person, as a sign of respect for all The Campus did for us in Mexico . . . and what you lost in the process.”