Terrence Sanderson stood on the covered deck of the headquarters lodge and shook his head. This was exactly the kind of publicity he had strived to avoid for the past two years. He opened the screen door and walked inside. Parker looked up from his array of three laptop computers, which were stationed around one end of the large conference table.
"Parker, we have a problem."
"Shit. Don't tell me the Russians know they're coming?" Parker said.
"No. Possibly a bigger problem."
He placed his satellite phone on the table and sat down next to Parker, exhaling for dramatic effect. Parker raised an eyebrow and stayed silent.
"The Serbians found their apartment in Buenos Aires…"
"Daniel's?"
"Exactly. They grabbed Jessica in the apartment, right in front of Munoz and Melendez. Jessica is fine, but she needs medical attention. We have ten dead Serbs in what Munoz described as a slaughterhouse. He said he'd never seen this much blood in one place, ever. The Petroviches kept the apartment sanitized of any identifying documents, so we have no concern there. The apartment is leased through a dummy corporation in Panama and has been prepaid for three years. All untraceable."
"Cameras?"
"That's the real problem. Daniel chose the apartment because of its security. The key cards are changed upon request and the place is loaded with cameras. The doorman was shot dead, so maybe the cameras were disabled when the Serbs broke into her apartment. Either way, I'm sure the police will have pictures of Daniel and Jessica very shortly. Probably Munoz and Melendez, too. Eventually, they'll figure out the ballistics, and locate the hotel room across the street. Once the pictures hit circulation, the Argentine Police will be able to identify them. Their cover identification will be ruined, and it won't be easy to move them around."
"Maybe we should move them out of the country now," Parker said.
"It doesn't sound like Jessica would fit in very well on a commercial flight. I'm sending them to a safe location outside of Buenos Aires, where Jessica can get in-house medical treatment. Munoz said most of her wounds were superficial and shouldn't require her to be in place for more than a few days."
"Do you want to get word to Daniel?"
"Negative. I need him focused on Monchegorsk. If Monchegorsk is as bad as Berg suspects, then the CIA will have enough evidence to start convincing the right people that U.S. interests are in imminent danger. Berg is also working on a Russian contact that may be willing to help us find Reznikov. If we can bag Reznikov and get him to talk, we might be able to leverage the information."
"Leverage?"
"I don't plan to work in the shadows forever. If we can get information from Reznikov that can prevent other attacks, I think we'll have more than enough leverage to get this group an immunity deal. It would be a win-win situation for our government. Fast results. Complete deniability. Zero cost to the taxpayer. Seamless integration with the CIA and a few other spook agencies. It would be perfect."
"What if they say no?"
"We don't lose if they call our bluff. Reznikov won't be our last opportunity. The world is a dangerous place and our services can't be ignored forever. Did Schafer arrive in Finland?"
"He met with Berg's guy and escorted the crew north. They're geared up and waiting in Oulu for first light. They'll cross the border south of Salla and stick to the less popular trails. Farrington wasn't very happy with the equipment provided by Berg's CIA contact."
"Will it get them to Monchegorsk?"
"He wasn't complaining about the transport. He said the weapons were sixties era Kalashnikovs, apparently part of a Cold War era weapons cache recently discovered thanks to a former KGB defector. The night vision equipment consisted of a few civilian model handheld scopes."
"He's starting to sound like Petrovich. As long as the weapons function, I don't give a shit. They're on a reconnaissance mission and shouldn't need weapons if they do their jobs correctly. Make sure to remind them of that. They need to figure out what happened in Monchegorsk and get the fuck out."
"Understood. I'll reemphasize your point."
"Thanks. I need to get in touch with señor Galenden. He shouldn't have any exposure to today's events, but if Daniel and Jessica are identified as the Russos, then authorities will be able to track them back to the airport in Nuequen, which he owns."
"We should send someone to the airport to retrieve their jeep. One less link to worry about," Parker said.
"Good call. Galenden won't be happy, but this is the first issue we've had in two years. From this point forward, all traffic goes in and out of our private airfield. Let me know when our team hits Russian soil."
"They should be underway in about nine hours, scheduled to arrive in the vicinity of Monchegorsk roughly four hours after that. They'll enter the city when it's dark. I'll keep you advised. Good luck with Galenden."
Sanderson nodded and grabbed the satellite phone. He'd take a walk in the woods and give Galenden the bad news. He couldn't imagine any conceivable circumstance that would cause Galenden to pull the plug on his operation, but he had learned never to make major assumptions. The Black Flag program was at a key juncture in its life cycle, and Sanderson wanted to avoid any major interruptions.
Chapter 36
Daniel stood against a tall pine tree and programmed his GPS unit with the snowmobile hide site's coordinates. He was the last member of the team to complete this task, and once he finished, they would set off on skis toward Monchegorsk. The hide site was located deep within the woods of a small hill overlooking the city. They were still several kilometers west of the nearest city structure, which should have been enough distance to keep the whine of the snowmobile engines from drawing any attention in the city.
Daniel confirmed that the waypoint had been accepted and placed the GPS receiver in one of the front lower pouches on his gray-white camouflaged, military style harness. Another pouch contained a digital camera capable of taking high resolution pictures and video. Most of the lower pouches held ammunition for the forty-year-old AK-47 assault rifles slung over their shoulders.
Farrington carried a similar camera and the team's satellite radio, their only link to Sanderson and Berg. He also carried a suppressed PPS submachine gun, which would serve as their only covert weapon beyond the knives strapped to their legs. Sergei commented that the PPS had probably been produced in a Soviet factory before any of them had been born. In all reality, all of the weapons had likely been buried in Finland before any of them were born. The team had spent a few hours removing the thick storage grease that had covered the weapons, inside and out. Once the weapons had been thoroughly cleaned, they tested each weapon's action and picked the five most reliable rifles. None of them cared to dwell on the viability of the ammunition found with the weapons.
They were all dressed in expensive, mobile cold weather clothing, covered by old Soviet Era winter camouflage and relatively modern harness gear. White wool watch caps with gray and brown camouflage specks topped each of their heads, along with simple black ski goggles. If they ran into a Russian patrol, they might actually pass for some twisted version of cold weather Spetznaz.
Once Daniel nodded, they conducted a communications check, speaking quietly and acknowledging each other. Each man wore a sophisticated throat microphone, with an invisible earbud for communication. The throat rig didn't require them to speak above a whisper, since it absorbed vibrations directly from the speaker's vocal cords through the neck. It also cut out almost all background noise, allowing them to talk under windy, extremely noisy conditions, like a firefight or snowmobile ride. The communications gear and cameras were the only items they carried that appeared to have been produced within the past two decades. Even their Telemark skis looked like ancient castaways, rivaling the age and condition of the snowmobiles provided by South Kola Limited.