PART THREE
BLACK FIST
Chapter 39
Dmitry Ardankin could tell by the sheer volume of swear words uttered during the first ten seconds of his one-way conversation with Feliks Yeshevsky that the search for Richard Farrington was not making progress. Impressed with Yeshevsky’s results in Kiev, he had flown the cantankerous agent, with a small entourage, to Yekaterinburg to pick up Farrington’s trail once they cross-matched passengers from Kiev with the list of Russians continuing to Yekaterinburg. 5,700 passengers had been narrowed to 1,700 male Russian citizens, one of whom was Farrington. Of those 1,700, only twenty-two had purchased transfers to Yekaterinburg. Everything was shaping up nicely, until Yeshevsky started poring through the train manifests.
Fifteen of the passengers came up in the system with Yekaterinburg addresses. Yeshevsky’s men, along with a dozen additional agents sent from Moscow, started knocking on doors at 2:00 in the morning. None of the fifteen turned out to be Farrington. While his men turned Yekaterinburg inside out, he painstakingly examined the passenger manifests of every train that Farrington could have taken, and matched all of the remaining passengers, except for one. Mikhail Ivanov.
Since Ivanov’s passport had not been swiped by customs at an airport, they would have no convenient photograph to match against Jeffrey Mayer, the Australian tourist recently arrived from Brisbane, Australia. It didn’t matter. Ivanov ceased to exist at Yekaterinburg Central Station. His name didn’t appear on any of the corresponding outbound train manifests.
Yeshevsky would have to contact all of the ticketing agents and hope for a repeat of yesterday’s miracle, then he’d hit the rental car agencies. For all they knew, Farrington’s mission objective might be in Yekaterinburg. The Volga-Ural Military District headquarters was located outside of the city at the military base housing the 34th Motor Rifle Division. Somehow he doubted it.
“Feliks, Feliks… please take a deep breath and calm yourself. We need to come up with a new strategy,” Ardankin said.
“The new strategy is me interviewing every ticket agent in the hopes that one of them has enough brain cells to understand what I’m saying. We’re talking a needle in a fucking haystack here. This guy could be back in Moscow for all we know, having led us on a wild goose chase to fucking nowhere and back. Has Customs come up with any other possible operatives?”
“Nothing yet. I’ve expanded the data parameters, so we’ll have a fresh batch of profiles to run within the hour. The director has given me the authority to increase the number of people working on this. I’ve called in over a hundred agents and technicians across several directorates. We’ll get you something,” Ardankin said.
“By the time they stumble across something useful, the Kremlin could be a smoking ruin,” Yeshevsky said.
“I’m sure this isn’t a plot to blow up Moscow,” Ardankin said. “He may be working alone, in which case we might never discover what Farrington was doing here. He’s a highly specialized operative. People like this are used for covert assassinations or kidnappings, not the destruction of national landmarks.”
Like most of the FIS, Yeshevsky didn’t officially know that the Zaslon branch of Directorate S existed. Yeshevsky was similarly unaware of Farrington’s involvement in the Zaslon massacre, which is why he chose to downplay the American’s possible reasons for being here. The connection would send Yeshevsky into overdrive and more than likely result in the beating deaths of several Russian citizens.
“Whatever he is here for, I’ve made it my mission to find him,” Yeshevsky said.
“That’s exactly why I flew you over from Kiev, instead of letting some headquarters agent run the show. If Farrington can be located, you’ll be the one to find him. Start tracking down the station employees. I’ll notify you if we find anything on our end.”
“Understood,” Yeshevsky said, followed by a barrage of obscenities directed at someone standing near him at the station.
Ardankin hung up the phone and pondered the day ahead of him. His own Directorate’s technicians and analysts were in the process of readying one of the largest operations response centers for the influx of personnel. He’d need everyone under one roof to coordinate the massive data analysis, relying heavily on the other Directorate’s talent. Data crunching wasn’t one of his strong suits, and everybody knew it. Dmitry Ardankin was head of the “Illegal Intelligence” Directorate because he had spent most of his career overseas or in Europe, running covert operations. Unfortunately, with Farrington’s trail cold, it appeared that hardcore data analysis might be their only chance to find another lead.
Chapter 40
Karl Berg sat back in his chair at one of the terminals in the CIA Operations Center and took a deep breath. His stomach had churned mercilessly for the past hour, while they confirmed that everything was in place. Confronted with nothing to do but wait, he found himself fidgeting constantly. Tapping his fingers, moving his legs, even humming old show tunes. Good lives were at stake, and they depended on a gamble he had yet to take. A secretive play he had orchestrated under everyone’s noses.
“You all right, Karl?” Audra Bauer said, hovering over him.
Even Audra had no idea what was coming, which pained him. His contingency plan for extracting Sanderson’s team could irreparably damage all of their careers. Berg could care less about his own recent meteoric rise through the ranks. He’d gladly trade his new office to safeguard the lives of their operatives, and he knew Audra and Manning felt the same way. He just felt guilty about making such an impactful decision without their knowledge. He might not have to put the plan into action, but he wasn’t hopeful. He seriously doubted that Sanderson’s crew could get across the border without a little friendly intervention, not with half of the region’s military assets chasing them down.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just hate this waiting game. Foley is a few minutes out. Her assigned time on target is 7:15 PM local time. Seven minutes.”
“She’ll be fine. She’ll be in Mongolian airspace by the time Vektor goes up in flames,” Audra said.
“I’m not worried about Foley,” Berg said. “Where is Manning? He should be here by now.”
“He’s with the director at the White House,” Bauer said.
“What? When did that change?”
“Less than an hour ago. The president wanted both of them in the Situation Room to keep him apprised.”
“More like holding them hostage,” Berg said.
He didn’t like the sound of this. He could understand the CIA director, but keeping the National Clandestine Service director close at hand and out of the operations center indicated that the president might flip-flop on this mission. With the two highest-ranking members of the CIA in his immediate presence, there would be little room for interpretation of the president’s orders. He didn’t envy Manning’s position in that room.
“That’s what they get paid to do,” Bauer reminded him, “run interference for us.”