“Still with me, Justin?”
“Yeah, still here.” Justin tried to contain the anger in his voice but he was sure McClain had noticed its gruffness.
“And mad as hell, I see.”
Justin took a deep breath and steadied his trembling hand. “This is not standard procedure, sir. With all due respect, it’s hamstringing me and compromising the success of this mission.”
“I know, and I made my strong objections known to the Minister. I was on the phone with him just ten minutes ago.”
Justin waited.
McClain said, “The Minister’s aware of the risk involved but is worried about unnecessary exposure, especially if things go to hell.”
“Things will go to hell if this is not a well-devised plan. Carrie is an irreplaceable agent, my right hand, someone I trust to watch my back. The rest of my teammates will be FSB agents.”
“I hear you, Justin, and I wished the Minister did as well. But with the Moscow incidents and the threats against the States, our political masters want to play this safe.”
“They don’t think I can pull this through, do they?” Justin’s voice rose almost to a shout as another wave of anger overtook him, this time because of the bitter feeling of doubt from the Minister.
“They did not put it in those terms, but yes, there is very little hope your team will find and eliminate Kaziyev.”
“They’re setting me up to fail, is this what they’re doing?”
“No, that’s not the case. The Minister’s office was excited about the intel exchange with the FSB in Moscow, as it would raise our profile and strengthen our leverage with both Russia and the US. And it was, for the most part, safe, although I know you beg to differ.
“This mission, on the other hand, is taking place in a volatile, remote region, and the outcome is, well, to put it mildly, insignificant, at least from the strict and narrow political point of view.”
Justin opened his mouth to object, but realized McClain would have expressed his thoughts about the importance of striking terrorists, especially where they felt they had the strongest and the safest havens.
“You still have the option of aborting this mission, Justin.” McClain voice had a warning edge and a pleading tinge.
“And disobey a direct order?”
“It was your proposal that introduced the idea for this mission. The order is not for you to embark on a suicide operation. You can still pull the plug, but if you decide to go ahead, those are the terms.”
Justin took a moment to weigh McClain’s words. He wanted to get that son of a bitch Kaziyev, but he realized the challenges of such an operation. Without Carrie by his side, things had become much harder. A little over two months ago, he had attacked a terrorist training camp in northern Yemen without Carrie, but things had been different at that time. There had been two Israeli Apaches pounding the camps and Yuliya and Daniel had been fellow combatants. Now he could count on no such air strike, and Yuliya was lying in a hospital bed. Justin knew he could rely on Daniel and, to a certain extent, on Bronislav.
He shook his head and tried to shake along with it the hunch that was forming in the pit of his stomach that he should just abort the mission, collect Carrie, and get the hell out of Russia while they still could. Instead, he said, “I need to think this over. Consider the pros and cons and talk it over with Carrie and Derzhavin. It will largely depend on what sort of support he’s able to provide. Can I call you in an hour?”
“Sure, Justin. You can take longer if you need to, since the Minister will not hear about your decision until tomorrow — well, today in the morning.”
“Yes, the time difference. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve made a decision.”
“Just remember that no one will think less of you regardless of your decision,” McClain said in a warm, soft tone. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I know what you have done for your country, and the people who matter, they know it too.”
Justin nodded. “Thanks. It means a lot.”
“Anytime, son, anytime,” McClain said in a fatherly voice.
“I’ll keep you informed,” Justin said and ended the call.
Chapter Thirty
Carrie listened calmly to Justin delivering the bad news but reserved her judgment until they had talked to Derzhavin. She said her opinion would depend on the level of assistance the FSB Deputy Director was in fact providing this mission. He had made a promise, but like many things promised under grave threats, the truth was seldom exactly as described by people forced to make pledges in those circumstances.
Derzhavin’s security detail had been ordered to let them in, so Justin and Carrie proceeded to his private recovery quarters. Unlike Yuliya’s small room, this was a large suite. Derzhavin was half-sitting, half-lying in a hospital bed, talking on a landline phone. His face still looked pale and his eyes were bloodshot but someone had done a decent job cleaning him up. His hair was scruffy and his hospital gown was rumpled. Derzhavin was hooked to an IV machine through his right arm. His left arm had been put into a cast from his shoulder to his elbow.
“I have to go but I will call you later. Yes, yes, of course,” Derzhavin said curtly but respectfully in Russian as Justin and Carrie stepped inside the suite and stood by the door. He placed the handset on the receiver, struggling to get his fingers free from the curly cord, then tried to fix his hair by running his hand from the front to the back. It worked for only half of his hair, leaving the back side with many stubborn hair strands sticking up in many different directions.
Derzhavin winced. The motions had probably caused him pain in his shoulder, or perhaps the medications were wearing off. He tried to readjust his pillow but failed and knocked the pillow down to the floor. He cursed the mother of the pillow’s maker.
“You should relax, Derzhavin, or you’ll have a heart attack,” Justin said as he and Carrie walked toward Derzhavin’s bed, set next to a large window. He picked up the pillow and placed it behind Derzhavin’s back.
“Thank you,” he said in English and leaned back. He sighed then said, “You came at the right time. I just received an intelligence update about our friend in Dagestan.”
“Good or bad?” Justin asked as he sank into one of the comfortable armchairs by the head of the bed. Carrie sat in an identical armchair next to Justin.
“It depends on how you see it,” Derzhavin said. “Our trusted contacts on the ground confirmed Kaziyev’s exact location. Well, the neighborhood and a block of houses where he’s most likely hiding as of last night. That’s the good news.”
“Where is he?” Justin asked.
“Buinovsky. A small town in northern Dagestan, just over the border with Chechnya.”
“Terrorist heartland,” Carrie said.
Justin nodded.
“That’s the bad news,” Derzhavin said in a weak voice. “Kaziyev has the protection of his own men and other insurgents from an Islamic group that controls the area.”
“What support are you providing us?” Justin’s words came out as a demand rather than a simple question.
“My people are assembling a package with all the details about the location, aerial photos, other shots of known and suspected terrorists, detailed topographical maps, all the intelligence we have so far and as it pours in.”
Justin nodded. A good start.
“We’ll need that intel right away, so we can start planning our operation,” Justin said. “What about manpower?”
Derzhavin flinched then rubbed his chin. “I can’t provide a large force at short notice, especially since it will be under a foreign command. Plus Kaziyev is on the defensive, expecting a fierce strike. A large force would be very difficult to hide and result in many casualties.”