Black Flagged Apex

Chapter 5





1:52 PM

CIA Headquarters

McLean, Virginia



Audra Bauer paced through the "Fishbowl" in the CIA operations center, anxious to hear from Sanderson's team in Germany. Mazari's abduction had gone smoothly. The team hadn't attracted any law enforcement attention grabbing him from the apartment, and they were now on the way to a small, privately accessed home north of Frankfurt. She was always amazed at how easy it was to make someone disappear, especially an enemy of the United States. She couldn't say for sure what would happen to Mazari, but one thing was certain, if he was connected to the virus canisters, he would never taste freedom again.

The operations center's watch officer turned her head and nodded to Bauer.

"The director is inbound. Just passed through ops center security."

"Thank you, Karen. Is Manning with him?"

"No. Just the director."

The last thing she needed was the director watching over her shoulder. Whatever Farrington and Petrovich had in store for Mazari was very likely not on the CIA's menu of acceptable prisoner handling techniques. Then again, the president himself had sanctioned the continued use of these assets to prosecute the leads uncovered in Stockholm, so perhaps a little high-level visibility would help ease some of the tensions in the operations center. She had a full complement of analysts and technicians rotating through the center in twelve-hour shifts. Too many eyes and ears in her opinion. The director's presence during this critical phase might reinforce the fact that this operation came from the very top.

She saw Director Copley's face on one of the screens near the watch officer's station. The watch officer typed a code into a small keyboard, which was immediately followed by a pneumatic hiss from the door cut into the center of the obscured glass wall separating the "fishbowl" from the rest of the operations floor.

"Director Copley, glad you could join us," she said, walking over to meet him.

"No, you're not, but I figured with Berg on a field trip, you could use some extra company. For a few minutes at least," he said.

Berg's mission to retrieve Anatoly Reznikov was a secret shared by very few at this point. The scientist's miraculous survival at the hands of Petrovich and Farrington had been kept offline. As far as she knew, everyone within the operations center thought Reznikov had died in the Stockholm safe house. Petrovich and the attending physician had confirmed his demise to the entire operations center via satellite phone, leaving little doubt that Sanderson's team had killed Reznikov while torturing him for information. Despite the value and importance of the information gained, they were all well aware that the House and Senate Intelligence Oversight Committees were unlikely to sweep aside the methods used to gain the information. She had seen a few tense looks when Farrington announced that they would start Mazari's interrogation in the van, on the way to the safe house. Twelve long minutes had passed since that report.

"What's the status of our team?" Copley asked.

"Sanitary pickup of Mazari. The team is transporting him to the safe house. Interrogation in progress."

Copley nodded. "Good. The team understands the stakes?"

"Without a doubt. This crew works fast. Very efficient," she said, resisting the temptation to look at one of the more nervous analysts.

"So I've heard," Copley said.

"Call coming through from the team in Frankfurt. Speaker or private?" the watch officer announced.

"Speaker," Bauer said.

"You're connected," the watch officer said into her ear microphone.

"I think we have the wrong guy," Farrington's voice said over the line. "Mazari's been crying like a bitch ever since we stuffed him in the van. He says that the frequent travel to Pakistan was to visit his sick grandfather. Congestive heart failure. He traveled back with his cousin on two occasions to visit. He's scheduled to travel again in two weeks, without the cousin. He said that they don't get along very well, mainly because the cousin is…I quote…'pushy with the mosques.' If Mazari's an extremist, he's at the very low end of the totem pole."

"Can he provide information to help us verify his story?" Bauer asked.

"I just fired off a secure email with everything he provided. I got tired of typing. He was about to provide his entire life story. When we busted into his apartment, he was playing video games and drinking beer with three other equally soft-looking techies. My gut says he's a dead end. I think we should cut his throat and dump him on the side of the road. Minimize our losses."

Farrington's voice rose as he made the last statement, turning nearly every head in the operations center, including Copley's.

"If you think he's a dead end, then dump him in the river," she said.

"Understood. We'll snip his fingers and cut off his face to buy us some time," Farrington said.

"What the f*ck?" one of the analysts near Bauer said.

Bauer held out a finger to the analyst and cocked her head. They could all hear some pleading and fast-talking from the Frankfurt end of the connection, followed by an angry, muffled voice. Ten seconds later, Farrington's voice echoed through the operations center.

"He thinks he knows the group we're looking for at DBM, and I don't think he's connected with them. He seems more concerned that the group will retaliate against him," Farrington said.

"You can assure him that the group won't be a problem. Give me some time to verify Mazari's story. Can your team work with Mazari to identify the others?"

"Affirmative. We have full access to DBM thanks to Mazari's laptop…hold on a second…we have an address. All four of them are listed at the same location."

"How far away are you?" Bauer said.

"Not far. Ten minutes," Farrington replied.

"Excellent. Do whatever it takes to secure information regarding the shipments. Keep in mind that the FBI has tracked down two of the shipment batches, accounting for thirty-eight of the fifty-eight canisters Reznikov claims to have produced. Reznikov used two canisters in Russia, leaving eighteen shipped to an unknown location. You might be able to leverage the fact that several Al Qaeda cells in the U.S. were terminated by an unknown group. No canisters were recovered at any of the locations," Bauer said.

"Understood. I'll advise when we are in position. What do you really want me to do with Mazari?" Farrington said.

"Let me verify enough of his story to justify his release. I'm not sure how our system missed the fact that one of the Al Qaeda travelling companions is his cousin. Be prepared to drop him off with cab fare."

"Sounds like a plan. We're headed to the new target location," Farrington said, ending the call.

Copley muffled a laugh. "You had me worried there for a few seconds."

"I'm starting to gain a better understanding and appreciation for how Sanderson's people work," Bauer said, wondering if that statement would ever resurface in a congressional hearing.

"Keep a tight leash on that crew. Get the information required and pull them out. Their presence on foreign soil is a major liability for us, and it's only a matter of time before Stockholm catches up to them…and us," Copley said.

"I understand, sir."

Copley nodded his approval before turning to the watch officer, who quickly authorized his departure from the "fishbowl." Bauer let out a sigh of relief. She could feel the tension ease in the room as the door hissed shut, sealing them off from their director. His visit had been perfectly timed, leaving no doubt in her mind that it had been purposely planned. She constantly updated the director's digital feed from her computer terminal, so he would have known that Manning was in a separate meeting, and that the operation was in a critical phase requiring an enhanced level of accountability.

His presence had assured everyone in the room that he directly approved the methods employed by Sanderson's team, thereby diverting the undercurrent of doubt that had started to rise within the operations center. Like static electricity, this undercurrent would slowly build up again and be discharged by another well-timed visit. Even as the deputy director of the National Clandestine Service, she didn't have the clout or seniority to diffuse it herself. She just hoped that her boss, Thomas Manning, could do it. She didn't relish the prospect of frequent visits from Copley.