“What?” McClain asked.
“It’s a waste of time to press the CIA. They’ll stick to their guns. I might need to go to Moscow. Visit an old friend, well, contact.” He looked at Carrie, then at McClain.
“Romanov?” McClain asked.
“Yes. He owes me an explanation about the half-truths of the Yemeni op. Hamidi was his partner in their arms trade. Romanov may be willing to give me some information after screwing me over in Yemen.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Carrie said.
McClain considered Justin’s proposal for a moment. He fidgeted with a pen on his desk. “Is Romanov in Moscow?”
“Yes, I checked. He’s there over the next three days. Meetings with oil executives from the States and throwing a couple of parties. It shouldn’t be a problem for our tech guys to add us to one of the guest lists,” Justin said with a grin.
“OK,” McClain said after what seemed like a very long pause, “set out for Moscow tomorrow morning. Both of you. But no shooting anyone. Just talk to him.”
“Will do,” Justin said.
Carrie nodded.
McClain let out a loud sigh. “Now, we’ve got to deal with Ms. Johnson.”
Justin frowned at the mention of her name. “I have an idea about this as well, sir.”
“I was afraid of that.” McClain groaned. “Let’s hear it.”
“We still haven’t made any progress in identifying the traitor, but now we have a name. We should wiretap Johnson’s home and office phones, cellphones, tablets, mail box, whatever she uses for communication. We should have two teams follow her at all times. If she’s the mole, she’ll make a mistake, and when she does, we’ll have people in place to document it.”
McClain nodded. “Go on.”
Justin shifted in his chair. “Here’s the kicker. Since we haven’t located where the data is transmitted from and the information from Al-Khaiwani doesn’t reveal that, we need to bait Johnson. We should give the data-stealing software some accurate intel about an operation and see if the intel makes it to Johnson and to whom she forwards that intel. If that happens, we’ve established the connection, and we have the evidence to put her away for treason.”
“That’s very risky, Justin, for everyone involved. Setting up ourselves, our agents, for an ambush and waiting for it to happen,” McClain said. He put an elbow on his desk and rested his chin on his fist.
“I realize it, and that’s why I’m volunteering myself. We’ll reveal general information about our Moscow operation, times and places, and see who shows up.” Justin spread out his hands.
“You make it sound easy,” McClain said.
“No, sir, it’s not easy. But it seems to be our only option,” Justin replied.
McClain looked at Carrie. “What do you think?”
Carrie sat back on her chair and crossed her legs. “The media is all over the events in Somalia and Yemen, so it’s safe to conclude Johnson is fully aware of them, even if she has no ties to al-Shabaab. If she’s truly the traitor, then of course she’ll know more details.”
Justin nodded. “Johnson would have expected our reaction to al-Shabaab attacking me in New York. She would know we’ll put two and two together and go after the militants in their own backyard.”
Carrie turned her body slightly toward Justin. “Right, but Johnson at the least would be suspicious about the timing and the effectiveness of these operations. We strike al-Shabaab hideouts in two different countries in as many days, with full success. People who are supposed to eliminate you are instead being cut down. She’ll realize we’re up to something.”
“We just followed the intel and got lucky here and there. Johnson knows it happens,” Justin said.
“She does. And she has probably figured out her software hasn’t reported much of any accurate intelligence over the last few days. Your plan assumes Johnson would overlook the fact she may have been compromised and would still give information about your next mission to al-Shabaab, even though they constantly have failed to deliver on their targets.”
McClain raised his right hand to scratch his temple. “Actually, a couple of the operations we allowed the software to access were cancelled at the last moment, making them appear real. A few others took place in areas beyond al-Shabaab’s reach and on very short notice. So to whoever is monitoring the results, it would seem the worm is working just fine.”
“We also need to keep in mind Johnson is not thinking straight,” Justin said. “Vengeance and greed have blinded her and have pushed her so far that she’s willing to betray her country to its worst enemies. She blames me for her downfall, and she won’t stop until she has gotten her payback.”
Carrie nodded. “I agree. I’m starting to think Johnson would fall for it. If she does, we’ll have to be faster than her assassins.”
Justin’s eyes met Carrie’s. He noticed her concern. “I don’t have much choice. How close are our techs from determining the location?” he asked McClain.
“As far as these reports say, they’ve made no progress.” McClain picked up a thin folder from his desk. “They’ve explained at length the difficulties, the signal being transmitted over different encrypted servers all over the world, protocols, all the tech lingo. The bottom line is they have no idea.”
“Now they can search internally for Johnson, and see if we can trace the software installation to her station,” Justin said.
McClain shook his head. “She’s not stupid. She probably used someone else’s terminal or a conference room. But it’s worth a try.”
“And the e-mails and phone numbers from Al-Khaiwani? Did they help?” asked Carrie.
“No. The e-mail accounts are either deactivated or empty. The phone numbers are not in service. Dead ends.”
Justin shrugged.
McClain said, “I guess this is our only option. We’ll lure Johnson, and see what falls out in Moscow.”
Justin had a key to Anna’s small townhouse by Rockcliffe Park, a ten-minute drive from CIS headquarters. Anna was in Vancouver for a series of meetings, so Justin and Carrie were going to crash at her place for the night.
Justin had left a few changes of clothes at Anna’s place. He would stay there when he came to Ottawa. He liked the quietness, the decade-old trees, and the hundred-year old stone and brick houses in the posh neighborhood. He loved running in the morning with Anna along Parkcliffe Parkway stretching for miles alongside the Ottawa River. They would stop to catch their breath and watch ducks, geese and tens of other birds nesting and feeding amidst the pines, maples, and oaks. It was one of their favorite pastimes.
Carrie did not feel right about borrowing Anna’s clothes. They would probably fit her just fine, since they had almost the same body shape, but Carrie was a bit leaner and taller than Anna. She opted to go out shopping and buy something she could wear tonight and also take with her to Moscow for their mission. She drove Anna’s BMW, while Justin slipped into his running gear and hit the trails.
It was a brisk evening, and he was glad he brought a windbreaker. After the African and Arabian heat, he could breathe lungfuls of cool, fresh air. It had rained earlier in the day, and the streets and the driveways were still damp in places.
He ran slowly at first, warming up his muscles, then he broke into a fast jog, jumping over mud pools in the uneven trail, dashing through the trees and using their roots above ground as hurdles. He cut through the forest, ducking often to avoid low hanging branches and swerving around scraggly shrubs scratching at his legs until her reached the river shore.
Justin stopped to catch his breath. The sun was setting, and the twilight had started to envelop everything. The lights from buildings in the Gatineau neighborhood across the river reflected off the smooth water surface. He listened to the silence, broken only by the occasional screech of an unseen coot. His eyes found a small snapping turtle climbing lazily over a large piece of driftwood. He sat on the trunk of a fallen tree. He missed the quietness, the serenity, the peace. He had been to places much more exotic and glamorous than an urban river, but he traveled to those countries to bring death, violence, and destruction. There was hardly any time to enjoy himself when he was dodging bullets and escaping jihadists.