To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) (4 page)

When her sleepy eyes met his, he saw them sharpen and focus as she rolled to rest on her side. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she pushed her hair back from her face.

“Nothing. Thinking.” Trevor approached the bed, placed the cup on the side table, and lay beside her. He rested his crossed hands on his stomach as he studied the ceiling.

“There has to be more to it, Trev. You’re dressed already. What’s up?”

“Devlin called. He’s cautious about sending the details we need electronically. I checked his system and agree with him. It’s not secure. He sent someone to deliver the info in person. Old style.”

Cassandra lay motionless as she appeared to process what he’d just told her. Once she did, she threw the covers off and rose from the bed. “Finally! We’re getting somewhere. When?”

“The person handling the delivery is already in Dublin. The meet takes place in thirty minutes by O’Connell Bridge.”

Cassandra’s expression grew somber as she searched Trevor’s gaze. Although they had never needed to use precautions and most of the cases they worked for the NSA to date had involved accessing data and infiltrating computers remotely, Trevor still felt the need to maintain a routine of sorts for both their sakes. Practice always made perfect.

“Just get home in one piece. No side adventures, got it?” Cassandra returned to the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss him. The sweetness of her kiss left him burning with the promise of more to come upon his return. With a nod, Trevor pushed off the bed and walked to the table beside the window where he collected his messenger bag.

In long, confident strides, he made his way out of the room and down the stairs, two steps at a time, to the main floor. Trevor wondered what life would be like if he wasn’t doing what he did for a living. If Cassandra hadn’t throttled into his life. Definitely boring. A wide smile spread across his face in anticipation of the thrill to come.

The walk to the bridge was a short one, twenty minutes at the most. He walked out of the house, crossed the street to St. Stephen’s Green, and headed north toward Grafton Street. The popular posh street was packed with the usual tourists, vendors, street performers, and the occasional delivery truck parked in the pedestrian-only area. Grafton shops were known for their variety and quality. The fancy, expensive fashion and jewelry stores were open, displaying their precious products to window shoppers. Cafés were filled with the masses looking for their morning caffeine fix and delicious pastries. The street was abundant with spring colors and the fresh smell of coffee and breakfast.

He continued his hike northbound, past Trinity College and toward O’Connell Bridge. His mind swirled with curiosity about the person Devlin had sent to deliver the information. Devlin’s secrecy was a given, considering the possible insider job they were facing. He hoped Cassandra could get a read on the asset and eliminate him from the list of possible suspects. He needed to see this job completed quickly, and reducing the number of suspects would greatly help in attaining that goal. It’d been a long time since they had any solid leads. The intercept George had picked up had breathed new life into their personal quest for answers.

Dublin’s streets were full of activity, the norm for that time of the year. Tourist buses parked on the side of the road across from the hotels in the area were a clear sign that the height of the spring season had arrived. The Guinness store was packed as usual with visitors looking for a special souvenir from Dublin—and what better gift than an exclusive pint glass? Trevor grinned as he passed the store and continued his brisk walk to the arranged meeting point. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he plugged the ear buds into his ears.

As he reached the median on O’Connell Bridge, his focus sharpened and he absorbed all the activity around him—a skill deemed critical to his current occupation, and ingrained in him by Cassandra through intensive training. Adrenaline coursed through him, a rush he had wished many times to have had in the past and which had become a part of his life and work of late. Mingling with the morning commuters, Trevor approached Eden Quay and scrutinized the people milling around. Like him, they appeared to be everyday folk going to work, school, or appointments—life happening at full bloom.

*****

As soon as Trevor left, Cassandra pulled her hair into a practical ponytail and threw on jeans and a t-shirt. Straightening the bed, she took a moment to shove her face into Trevor’s pillow and breathe in deeply.
If only he wasn’t such a risk taker
.

She tossed the pillow back on the bed and went into quick action, moving swiftly and with purpose through the house to the kitchen where she made a fresh pot of coffee. The delicious aroma almost made her groan. Cassandra glanced at the clock and her heart skipped a beat. Trevor would be hitting O’Connell Bridge soon. Visualizing the bridge, she knew they couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot for a meet and greet. Trevor would blend right in. Nobody would pay attention to a guy standing at a bus stop in the hustle and bustle of the morning commute. She filled a large cup with the dark elixir and took it with her up to the office.

Cassandra’s fingers flew on the keyboard the minute she sat at her desk. She established the connection to the Closed Circuit Television control center, tapping straight into the citywide camera network. She located the camera she wanted at the corner of O’Connell Street Lower and Eden Quay where Trevor would make contact. Her heart raced and anticipation filled the room as she waited for him to let her know he was in play. She reached for her cup and sat back against the soft leather of her comfortable chair to wait for his signal.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“Cassie, copy?”

“Hold on Trev, just a bit of static.” She took a few seconds working the keyboard to filter the signal further. “Try now.”

“Can’t wait to get back and jump you.” His seductive tone came through loud and clear.

“Oh yeah, clear as a bell.”

“Almost there. Get ready,” Trevor directed softly for her ears only.

Her voice was all business. “Copy.”

Cassandra monitored the views of the surrounding area through the CCTV light-rail connections, then initialized the button camera feed. Trevor was holding a book in front of the camera, blocking her view—
The Rolling Stones
:
The Story behind Their Biggest Songs
. He opened the book so the cover could clearly be seen and pretended to read from it as he continued to scan the area around him.

“Hey, Trevor. Move the book a sec so I can do one last focus check.”

Cassandra watched the flurry of activity in front of him as she adjusted the focus. “Perfect.” The pages of the book came back into view and, without comment, Trevor returned to his pretend reading.

*****

Trevor kept a close eye on his surroundings, covertly taking note of the CCTV cameras positions in the area and thinking how nice it was of the city council to introduce the system in Dublin. Most of the main cities in Europe were rigged with cameras, installed to allow police and transit control to observe traffic and respond to emergency situations promptly. It had become a very useful tool in their line of work. However, it wasn’t their only means of surveillance. Echelon was still their main source of data on any project, be it NSA-related or of personal nature.

“Have you heard from George? He never did let us know how the date with Jennifer went.”

Cassandra’s soft laughter flowed over the link, “Hey! This isn’t the right time to be discussing George’s love life, Trevor!”

“Okay, okay. How’s the tap working? Can you access all the cameras?”

“Yes, sir!” She laughed at his business-like tone. “All cameras are live and accessible. I love the way you tap, Mr. Bauer.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for later, Mrs. Bauer.” He chuckled and returned his focus to the people approaching the bus stop. Time slowed to a trickle as he waited for the asset to show up. Speaking softly, Trevor reached out to Cassandra. “All set. Keep your eyes on those cameras. It shouldn’t be long now.”

“Okay. I’m ready. So far everything looks clear.”

Cassandra kept her eyes focused on the screens. Catching movement in one of the split views, she leaned forward in her chair and in a controlled voice warned him, “Trevor, heads up. Two o’clock. Coming straight at you.”

“Already spotted. Thanks, love,” he responded softly in his Irish drawl, sending a shiver down her spine.

Cassandra grinned softly at her reaction to him. He would always elicit those feelings from her.
So easy.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she turned her attention back to the business at hand.

From where Trevor sat, he observed a man walking into the opposite end of the bus shelter. He carried a lightweight briefcase and wore a developer’s signature attire: jeans and t-shirt. Trevor casually tracked the man as he skirted around people waiting for their buses. When he reached Trevor, the man took a seat beside him and glanced over at the book in Trevor’s hand. After their eyes connected briefly, the man deflected his gaze.

A bus arrived and the people in line moved to board it, quickly vacating the shelter. Trevor and the man remained behind. Fidgety, the man stood and walked over to study the bus map posted on the glass wall directly across from Trevor.

After a few minutes, he turned, squared his shoulders, and nodded toward the book Trevor held. “A rolling stone gathers no moss.”

The man’s tone and expression were full of uncertainty. Trevor lowered the book, giving Cassandra a full view of the man they had now established as being their asset. He replied with the arranged counter phrase: “Sure ’nough, I’m a rolling stone.”

Trevor watched as the asset’s expressive face changed, becoming almost somber. When he took a step forward, Trevor shook his head and waved him back. “Nope. Stay there. Did you bring the details as instructed?”

The man stopped mid-stride and seemed taken aback by Trevor’s order. He had no idea the button camera trained on him was providing Trevor’s tenacious wife with a full view of his reactions, allowing her to scrutinize him like a bug under a microscope.

Familiar with Cassandra’s love for detail, he was certain she would be making one last critical pass around the perimeter and smiled inside when he heard her over the link. “Looks clear. It doesn’t look like he was followed or came with anyone. Turn just a smidge to your left.” He did as directed. “Good.”

Trevor watched as the asset reached into his briefcase. “Easy,” Trevor cautioned him. A face-to-face meeting in their line of work was always risky, no matter how much planning went into it. Being compromised was not an option. But the adrenaline rush in Trevor’s veins at that moment made it well worth the risk.

The asset pulled an envelope from the case and, with careful controlled movements, handed it over. Trevor scanned the area to make sure nobody else was paying attention to their exchange before removing the contents from the non-descript envelope—sheets of paper and an unmarked disk.

The man shuffled his feet while Trevor read through the pages, his knuckles stark white from gripping his briefcase’s handle. “Don’t worry.” Trevor glanced casually from the papers to the man. “We have the place covered.” The look of surprise on the asset’s face on realizing he was being watched was priceless. Cassandra must have thought the same because her soft laughter rippled into his ear.

Trevor lowered his eyes and skimmed the pages. The sheets contained information outlining the data to be retrieved, the importance of it to the company, usernames and passwords, and information regarding the system backdoor. Everything provided was information Trevor was familiar with handling. Trevor reached the last page of the packet and read the note scrawled on it.

Once data is retrieved you will meet Antonín Mucha in Prague. Location and time dependent on data destruction success.

*****

Cassandra listened to the exchange and watched the asset closely. Facial analysis had always been one of her favorite subjects during her training at the Farm.

“Wait a minute,” she muttered under her breath, pulling up a second screen and rewinding the video capture. “I know I saw something,” she continued to mutter and rewound it a second time to scrutinize the man’s face.

Cassandra focused on his mouth. His lips were stretched in a tight straight line. Next, she studied his eyes. They were open very wide, the upper lids pulled up while the lower ones were very tense. She advanced the video and froze it again. Both of his eyebrows were raised and pulled tight together. “Trevor, he’s afraid.
Very
afraid. He knows something.”

Shortly after, Cassandra heard Trevor over the link. “Tell me. Why are you afraid?”

The man’s face blanched. “What do you mean? I…I’m not afraid.”

“Yeah. And that’s why you didn’t just stutter?” Trevor chuckled. “You are. Tell me why.”

Cassandra commented in his ear, “Trev, I still only read fear…Wait…Hold on.” Cassandra noticed that the inner corners of the asset’s eyebrows had risen, causing them to slant downwards from the center of his forehead. She leaned closer to the screen and traced the lines of the man’s expression with her finger.

“Picking up what appears to be either sadness or guilt.”

The asset took a few seconds, as if considering his options, and then spoke to Trevor. “My name is Paul Faber. I’m the lead developer of the stolen project files—now in the wrong hands….” His voice carried a tired, defeated tone.

Within minutes Cassandra confirmed. “Identity verified. I’m going with guilt, Trev. Get it wrapped up. You have what you need.”

Cassandra’s assessment confirmed Trevor’s own instincts and he smiled. Faber let out a huge breath. “So, I can confirm with Mr. Devlin you are taking the job?”

Trevor stuffed the envelope and sheets in his bag. “Yes.”

Relief flared in Faber’s eyes. Reaching in his bag again, he pulled out a smaller envelope and handed it to Trevor. “Mr. Devlin asked that I give this to you if you agreed to follow through with the job.” Trevor took the envelope. Curious to see what other information Devlin had provided him, he looked inside and ran his thumb along the edge of the sheets it contained. Approximately 500 grand in mature US bonds, by his calculation.