His very life might depend on everything she heard, did or said.
SIX
‘Help is on the way. Travis will move as soon as he receives the green light.’
Brian Callahan suppressed a shiver as he sat down after making the announcement. He was in an annexe to the Operations Suite in the Central Intelligence Agency’s Langley HQ. The air was clean and pure, with the slight chill and dead feel peculiar to sub-level rooms, where the walls were bombproof and the fabric sowed with auditory disruption networks. But it wasn’t the atmosphere that made him nervous; he was used to that.
It was the presence of one of the three men already seated at the boardroom-style table.
‘Remind us of the situation for the benefit of Senator Benson, will you?’ The first speaker was senior CIA Assistant Director, Jason Sewell. He had the genial smile and manner of a happy golfer, but the watchfulness in his eyes was a dead giveaway; here was a man experienced in the field of espionage and high-risk operations who knew what was involved. Like Callahan, he also knew the risks of not having all his ducks in a row for the man sitting at the far end of the table.
‘That would be very useful.’ Senator Howard J. Benson was probably the most influential — and potentially dangerous — man the CIA could have ever admitted through its blast-proof doors. A former politician from Virginia, he was a long-time fixture around Washington, and a member of the ultra-powerful Intelligence Community, an umbrella organization for all US intelligence agencies set up to coordinate and support, among other things, special activities connected with US foreign policy objectives overseas. But what made him a person for Sewell and Callahan to be wary of was his Congressional oversight role regarding CIA operations and activities. Outwardly a supporter of the Agency, it was generally known that Benson was a CIA sceptic and would not hesitate to drag it kicking and screaming before an investigative committee if given half a chance.
‘Senator. As you may know the State Department recently sent a negotiator named Edwin Travis to Ukraine tasked with holding fact-finding talks with the various groups involved in the troubles over there; that’s both separatist pro-Moscow, and Ukrainian nationalists opposed to the split. Sending a government representative openly would have caused problems with Moscow, so we advised them to place him on a ticket from the Centre for International Coordination and Collaboration, based in Geneva. CICC for short. They would still know who he worked for, but would give them a face saver if it got out.’
‘Let’s hope you’re right.’ The next man was seated sideways on, looking at nobody in particular, his mouth pursed tight. His name was Marcus Kempner, and he was the State Department’s representative. He had good reason to look uncomfortable; this was his first time in the rarefied atmosphere of the CIA Operations Suite and he was carrying a lot of the responsibility for what was currently unfolding with Edwin Travis. He wore a slightly patrician air that many found irritating, and liked to talk of his interest in arts and culture to hide a lack of social ease.
‘Pardon me?’ Callahan looked surprised by the comment.
‘This was a high-risk but extremely worthy venture — but we had to try. We can’t have anything coming out of the woodwork that might suggest that it was actually some sort of CIA spying mission. There’s more than just one man’s safety at risk here.’
‘The Geneva end is not a problem, sir. We’ve used it before. They have a genuine plate on an office along the Rue du Hesse and are absolutely secure. I hope I can say the same about other aspects of this “mission”.
‘What are you trying to suggest, Mr Callahan?’ Kempner blinked rapidly. He wasn’t accustomed to being confronted by lowly members of the espionage community, who usually kept their heads down and left it to senior people to do the infighting.
‘With respect, sir,’ Callahan continued calmly, ‘you specifically allowed us little to do with Travis’s mission logistics other than providing some background information and suggesting he use the CICC cover. That has stood up as we believed it would.’
‘Gentlemen.’ Jason Sewell raised a placatory hand. ‘Please. We don’t have time.’ He glanced at Kempner and added, ‘I’m sorry, Marcus, but Callahan’s right; your people put this thing together with minimum input from us. Travis was up and off before we could fully evaluate the situation. Now you want our help to get him out of a jam, which we’re happy to provide, of course.’
Kempner looked as if he were about to protest at this quiet reproof, but changed his mind and sat back in his chair. Making enemies with senior CIA personnel wasn’t a good idea, especially when asking for their help.
Howard Benson cleared his throat, bringing further discussion to a halt. Dressed in a conservative suit and college tie, he looked exactly what he was: old money and old family. But behind the façade lay the sharp teeth and ambition of a modern-day bureaucrat and political in-fighter. ‘How many people are involved in getting to Travis?’ Benson asked softly.
‘One man, sir. As soon as he’s in place we’ll get things moving.’
‘One? That’s a hell of a task, even for your Specialized Skills Officers. I’d have thought you’d commit a team, at least.’
Callahan hesitated. In spite of his elevated clearance level, Benson was pushing into territory that was not his. The SSOs were paramilitary members of the Agency, recruited mostly from former special forces personnel such as Delta and Seal Team 6, and were responsible for security operations in hazardous areas. They were considered the best of the best at what they did. ‘Sir, the situation on the ground is unpredictable. The entire region is falling apart and is under close scrutiny from the media and local intelligence and security agencies. I decided a contractor would be our best and safest option in case of any fall-out.’
Benson frowned. ‘You’re using an outsider?’ The words were icy in tone, reminding everyone of the senator’s oft-quoted opposition to private military contractors and security groups. He had shown no hesitation for several years now in condemning their use, especially in connection with ‘black flight’ exercises, or rendition, as it was popularly known, and the rumoured torture of insurgents and suspected terrorists.
Callahan took a breath and glanced at Assistant Director Sewell, who merely nodded to show he would support Callahan’s response. He’d known this was going to happen. The CIA used sub-contractors all the time and always had. But there was still an innate knee-jerk reaction against them, as if it were a criticism of CIA ability. And for a sceptic like Benson, any stick with which to beat the Agency would do.
‘I considered it prudent, sir. We needed a clean pair of hands so that there are no links back to us. However, the main reason I chose him was because he has an unparalleled record and this work is what he does best.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘His code name is Watchman.’
‘His real name.’
‘That’s something I’d prefer not to go into.’ He felt the air crackle with tension the moment the words came out. He’d just as good as told a man with the highest degree of security clearance possible to mind his own business. ‘Don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mean to be impertinent.’
‘I’ll take that as read. So why bring him on board?’
‘Because from what Mr Kempner’s State Department colleagues outlined in the briefing for this mission, and knowing what we now know about Travis’s situation, I believe there’s a real and credible risk to him and the outcome of this venture. I have to do whatever I can to protect both.’