She had set the toaster to the maximum and the bread was dried, almost burned. Thankfully, there was some butter in the fridge and Carrie had made some coffee. Justin had slathered his bread with butter and was dipping it into his coffee.
“I’m not sure. If Derzhavin comes through, why not? We’re already fighting a global war on terrorism. Why wait until terrorists come to strike us in our lands? We can go and give their nest a powerful kick.”
Carrie considered his words while sipping her tea. Her fingers were wrapped around the porcelain cup, and she sat cross-legged on her seat. “Something about numbers and circumstances. Kaziyev is on the defensive, expecting to be hunted down, so he has made his stand by gathering a large horde of fighters around him. And this is just the idea of an op, but we have to figure out the details of a successful plan.”
One of their disposable phones set on the table between them rang before Justin had a chance to reply. He consulted the small screen, then tapped a couple of buttons. “Good evening, sir,” he said in an upbeat voice as he leaned closer to the phone. “How are things going?”
“Well, very well, Justin. How are you doing? How’s Carrie?” McClain’s voice came through the airwaves tired and throaty, as if he was fighting a cold.
Justin nodded at Carrie.
“We’re doing well, sir. It was a quiet night.”
“Good to hear that. After so many close calls yesterday, you deserved at least a night of peace.”
Justin noticed a hint of restraint in his boss’s tone. McClain was pondering his words a bit longer than necessary and speaking those words quite carefully, as if worried he would say the wrong things or give the wrong message. He’s not alone in his office and he’s not at liberty to tell us who is sitting in with him.
Justin looked up to Carrie and motioned to her that he needed a pen and paper. Carrie pointed to a small table by the window. Justin found a notebook in the top drawer and returned to the table.
Carrie reached over for her teacup and took a quick sip. “Sir, what are our orders?”
McClain did not respond immediately. “We’re still, hmmm, the Minister’s office is still assessing the situation. Any new details to help our friends make a prompt call and the right one?”
Justin grinned as he passed his scribbled note to Carrie. He realized McClain was talking to the mysterious, uninvited guest in his office. McClain’s relationship with the Minister’s advisors was that of a respectful distance. He did not mind sharing information and briefing advisors on the latest intelligence about global and national security and terrorist threats. But he hated it when they dragged their feet and wasted precious time discussing potential political impacts on their careers before intervening to save the lives of McClain’s field operatives.
Carrie read the note and nodded. She did not seem surprised, and Justin figured she had come to the same conclusion before he even wrote it down for her.
“Justin, are you still there?” McClain said.
Carrie mouthed two words to Justin: good news.
Justin nodded. McClain was looking for good news to motivate the Minister and Justin was going to stack the cards and focus only on the positive. He said, “Fyodor was released late last night. He’s in good spirits and eager to return to the field.”
The truth was slightly different. Yes, Fyodor had been released, but after being roughed up, with cracked ribs and a broken arm. It would take him at least a couple of months before he could be of any actual use to a field operation and his cover was most likely blown. Fyodor’s days serving with the CIS in Russia were most likely over.
“Rebekah too is coming home, sir,” Justin said with some hesitation.
Carrie gave him a sideways glance.
Justin nodded with a soft sigh. This time he was bending the truth so hard he could almost hear it snap. The CIA agent was killed in action and her body was going to be flown back stateside in a few days, after the US Embassy had made all the necessary notifications and arrangements. Justin was hoping the advisor, or whoever was leaning heavily on McClain, would not be privy to that information and would not pry for more specifics.
There were a couple of moments of tense silence and Justin thought he heard a scraping noise as of someone hastily writing notes. Justin ran his hands through his still wet hair then reached for his coffee mug.
“Any further intel on Kaziyev’s whereabouts?” McClain asked.
Justin was still sipping his coffee, so Carrie replied, “Negative, sir. All we know is that he’s somewhere in Dagestan. The FSB has a few contacts on the ground and they’re working on gathering more intel. We’re told they’ll share it with us as soon as it becomes available.”
Justin noticed a bit of suspicion in Carrie’s last words so he hurried up to remove any doubts. “Derzhavin is committed to assist us in our operation, sir. The Russians are as motivated as we are to strike hard against the terrorist network.”
“Hmmm, about the operation, we’re still awaiting the Minister’s authorization. He’s personally engaged at this stage and should come through with his decision at any time. Now, why don’t we go over the details and the facts we have so far from our Moscow op?”
Justin ran him through yesterday’s events, paying special attention to his conversation with Derzhavin, the list he had obtained, and the intelligence about the terrorist plot in the works in the US. McClain asked a few questions, ones to which Justin was sure he or Carrie had already given answers. He suspected those questions were solely for the benefit of the Minister’s advisor.
Carrie also provided her point of view, especially on those episodes in which she was the only protagonist. She stressed the urgency of moving against Kaziyev as soon as more concrete intelligence was at hand. McClain agreed that time was of the essence and promised to advise the Minister about taking prompt action before Kaziyev disappeared.
“I’ve got two more things, Justin,” McClain said when the briefing seemed to be wrapping up.
He paused for a second, and Justin wondered if McClain was considering whether to even bother asking the question that the advisor had probably slipped him.
“Based on your explosive… oh, eh, I mean expertise, what are the chances of success if we launch an operation against Kaziyev at this moment?”
Justin smiled. McClain had misread the advisor’s writing, his most obvious action along with the reluctance in his voice. Justin replied, “Kaziyev wouldn’t be expecting a surgical attack at the heart of his hideout. He withdrew to Dagestan because he believes it is beyond anyone’s reach. We have the Russians’ support and we can make full use of their knowledge of the terrain, logistics, and intelligence. It’s the best moment to strike.”
Carrie nodded. “I agree with Justin’s assessment,” she said. “We could be very efficient especially if the attack is well-coordinated, but only if we go in without delay.”
“I concur,” McClain said. “What are your thoughts on the CIA’s involvement in this op?”
Justin rubbed his chin and stretched back in his seat. “I’m a bit worried about expanding the circle of people with knowledge about this op, sir. If it is to be a swift, covert strike, then the fewer people who know about it, the better it is.”
“Unless the CIA has a great contact on the ground we can use for infil or exfil, the Russians can provide us logistics,” said Carrie.
“All right, then. Stay safe, and I’ll be in touch as soon as I have a decision. As far as I’m concerned, I’m in favor of a small, surgical intervention, as Justin worded it. But, ultimately, it will be up to the Minister.”
“Thank you, sir,” Justin said.
“Anything else?” McClain asked.
“Yes,” Carrie said. “Anything from those e-mail accounts?”