Another document talked about plans for an attack against Russian airports in Moscow and St. Petersburg. There were more details, photographs of suspected members of various Chechen terrorist groups, addresses, telephone numbers, and phone call transcripts. Other reports covered the background of previous Chechen attacks in the US and in Russia.
“What do you think, Justin?” asked Carrie.
They were in a small conference room on the second floor of the CIS headquarters. Their laptops, printouts, and notepads were scattered across the table.
“The NCS has a strong case. Chechen terrorists are up to something very dangerous in the States. I’m not sure the FSB shares my feelings, though.”
Carrie reached for a bagel from a paper plate off to the side. She took a bite, then made a face as if she had bitten into a lemon. “These are already stale; they probably sold me yesterday’s batch.” She stood up and tossed the rest of the bagel in a trash can.
Justin shrugged. “Sorry about that. Do you want to go out and get something else?”
“No, McClain should call us in at any minute.” She returned to her seat.
“He was unsure about authorizing this operation, weighing the pros and cons.”
“I think he’ll go for it. The government wants us to work closer with the US, so that’s what we’ll do.”
Justin’s cellphone beeped. He cast a quick glance at the caller ID, then said, “It’s McClain.”
Carrie began to gather the papers, placing them into their respective folders.
“Yes, sir,” Justin said on the phone. “Yes, Carrie is here with me. Okay, yes. We’ll be there right away.”
He closed and pocketed his cellphone. “His office.”
He helped Carrie with her files and their laptops, then they closed the conference room door behind them.
McClain was sitting as usual behind his desk, an avalanche of folders spread out in front of him, covering every inch of space. He gestured for Justin and Carrie to sit in the chairs across from his desk. They waited for a few moments while he finished highlighting a few lines from a thick report. McClain put the report in a folder and locked it in one of his desk drawers. Then he turned his attention to his agents.
“I explained to the Minister the intricacies and the sensitive nature of this operation, but, regardless of my opposition, he has given you his blessing.” McClain spoke in a wary tone, as if bringing the sad news of someone’s untimely departure from this world. “Thus I’m authorizing this intelligence exchange operation with the FSB.”
The head of the Canadian Intelligence Service, along with numerous directors of operations like McClain, reported to the Minister of Public Safety and to the National Security Advisor to the Prime Minister.
Justin decided to try his newly acquired positive approach. “Thank you, sir. We will turn it into a successful mission that will improve our relations with both Russia and the United States.”
McClain and Carrie exchanged a curious glance.
“You’re okay, Justin?” asked McClain.
“Yes. Why?”
“It sounds like you’re taking this op too lightly. The FSB is not just going to hand over their files simply because we ask them.”
Justin bit his lip and swallowed before answering, “I’ll be fully prepared for this mission, and I’m going in with an optimistic mindset. For example, we’ve already made arrangements for our flight to Moscow later on today, in anticipation of your authorization.”
McClain shook his head. “You’ll have to cancel that flight. Before going to Moscow, you’ll make a stop in Lithuania.”
“Lithuania? What for?” asked Carrie.
McClain pulled open one of his desk drawers and showed them a gray folder. “I received this report earlier today from Ms. Moore. The NCS has an enemy combatant, a Chechen terrorist, in one of their black sites in Lithuania. She wants the two of you to interrogate him.” McClain handed the folder to Justin.
“I thought Lithuania closed those secret prisons years ago, after the European Parliament investigations and their findings,” Carrie said.
Justin leafed through the pages.
“They did — well, initially, right after the reports and the media firestorm,” said McClain, as he massaged the back of his neck. “But apparently, as Ms. Moore confirmed, they still have at least one black site up and running.”
“Is the Lithuanian government aware of this facility?” Carrie asked.
“Ms. Moore didn’t say, but local authorities must know about it. It doesn’t take much for the CIA to convince the Lithuanian government to cooperate, although local officials will never admit publicly that they were part of these activities,” replied McClain and gestured toward the folder.
“Of course they know about the black site,” Justin said. “One cannot build such a structure, transfer and hold prisoners there, without some government support. At best, the Lithuanians looked the other way while the CIA conducted their interrogations at this location.”
“Where is it?” Carrie asked.
“A few miles away from Vilnius, the capital. An old stable was renovated and converted into the CIA prison. The first couple of pictures.” Justin passed the folder to Carrie.
“And this one is the CIA agent who will work with you,” McClain said and produced another folder. “Her name is Rebekah Lewis.”
Justin looked at Rebekah’s file photograph. She had long, black, wavy hair flowing down her shoulders, big green eyes, a straight, narrow nose, and a small mouth. Her face showed a careful smile.
“She’ll meet you in Vilnius and take you to the CIA complex,” said McClain. “Her contact information is in the file. Interrogate the detainee and call me for a briefing. Then continue to Moscow and include any new intelligence from this interrogation. Any questions?”
Justin looked over at Carrie.
She shook her head.
“No questions, sir.”
“OK, then. Good luck and be safe,” McClain said.
He stood up as they shook hands.
Chapter Eleven
After they cleared customs at the Vilnius International Airport and collected their luggage, Justin and Carrie stopped by the Pizzaland, just before exiting the terminal, for a few pizza slices. They picked up three coffees — two for themselves and a courtesy cup of coffee for Rebekah — and headed for the doors.
A thick blanket of snow had covered everything. A couple of snowplows were hard at work, clearing the streets and the parking lot in front of the airport. The air was cold and fresh, but there was barely any wind. Justin guessed the temperature was about twenty-five, since he could see his breath in front of his face, but his skin was not freezing on contact like it would be back in Ottawa.
“Where is she?” Carrie asked and scanned the half-empty parking lot.
Justin glanced straight ahead, then to his left. “There, right there.” He pointed at the handicapped parking stalls across from the doors. “The white Volkswagen.”
They walked down the eight stairs, watching their steps and avoiding a couple of ice patches. As they reached the marked crosswalk, the driver of the Volkswagen SUV apparently noticed them, because the car began to back up toward them. Justin and Carrie waited until the car stopped next to them. Justin threw a quick look at the driver, confirming it was Rebekah. Her hair was darker and her skin was fairer than in the file photo. She was wrapped in a dark blue coat with a turndown collar, and she was wearing a scarf a shade lighter than the coat.
Justin opened the front passenger door for Carrie.
“Hello, Rebekah, I’m Carrie. Nice to meet you.”