Black Flagged Redux

Chapter 18





6:35 PM

Nuequen Province

Western Argentina





Daniel stared at the map laid out on the massive oak table in the headquarters lodge and glanced up at the sixty-inch plasma screen TV mounted on the wall just above them. The table had been pushed up against the rustic wall so the team could lay out any paper maps or charts on it and easily cross-reference the material with any of the media that Sanderson had acquired. Currently, it displayed some "borrowed" satellite imagery from the CIA.

"This sounds like a routine site reconnaissance. Why can't the CIA handle this? Or Shitwater? It sounds like Berg is breaking our balls," Daniel said.

His comment was accompanied by a few muted laughs, which were immediately stopped by several serious, condemning stares. Farrington glared the hardest.

"Come on, Sergei. You know you want to laugh," Daniel said and focused on the map again.

"Three bodies on this dead-end road. Russians?" Daniel said.

"Daniel, you're killing me. Unknown on the bodies. Imagery indicates that we might be looking at several more bodies in a mass grave around this cluster of buildings," Sanderson said, flashing his laser pointer at the screen.

Parker sat at one end of the table with a laptop. He moved a mouse connected to the computer, and the image zoomed in on a cluster of buildings far removed from the main concentration of buildings associated with the Semipalatinsk Nuclear Test Site. “The buildings of interest lie about ten miles southwest of the old reactor complex and show signs of recent activity. According to local sources, mining operations in the area had been extensive, but recent imagery doesn’t show any mining equipment associated with the activity at this site, and a new, permanent structure appeared about five months ago. The miners typically bring trailers for any onsite needs. CIA thinks we should focus on this site."

"And check out the three bodies?" Farrington said.

"Exactly. The site is to be examined specifically for signs that it may have been used as a laboratory. To answer your question, Daniel, though I don't like to get in the habit of entertaining your endless supply of commentary…the CIA division running this op is chasing a theory, based on some circumstantial intelligence reports. Due diligence. Whatever the case, the Russians are up to something, and the CIA doesn't want to fall too far behind on this one," Sanderson said.

"What are we looking at?" Farrington said.

"The Russians are turning over every conceivable rock to find Dr. Anatoly Reznikov, a disgraced and disavowed bio-researcher. Apparently, a Russian Special Forces raid in Dagestan hit pay dirt. They found evidence that Reznikov travelled to Dagestan to meet with Al Qaeda leaders. Five years ago, Reznikov tried to steal partially weaponized encephalitis samples from Russia's equivalent of the CDC. As you can imagine, this is not a match made in heaven. Only bad voodoo can come of it."

"Why would they keep shit like that around?" Andrei interjected.

"Standard procedure. We do the same thing, even with programs that have been banned for decades. The CDC keeps a sample catalogue of every known disease, natural or manmade. Anyway, they fired him from the lab and blackballed him throughout Russia. He disappeared soon after that. The CIA always speculated that he had been assassinated by the Russians, but apparently that was not the case. Your job is to gather evidence to help the CIA determine if someone, likely Reznikov, had run a lab at this site. It's perfectly isolated, aside from the mining activity, and Reznikov would be familiar with the area."

"What about radioactivity levels? This was the Ruskies' primary nuke testing site for most of the Cold War. I'd like to have kids one day," Daniel said, and this time most of them laughed.

"Now that's a scary thought," Farrington said.

"You'll be equipped with Geiger counters and radiation strips. I can't imagine the need for radiation suits, given the fact that someone clearly used the buildings for an extended period of time. If it's hot, I don't want you sticking around. That'll be your call, Daniel. I wouldn't want to ruin your plans to have beautiful children," Sanderson said.

"I'll be sure to pass that on to Jessica. So, I only have one more question."

"Oh boy," Farrington muttered.

"Although this site certainly fits the bill for a mad scientist's laboratory, I can probably find you a thousand similar locations around the world. How did the CIA narrow this down so quickly?" Petrovich asked.

"I assume they started looking in the areas close to Reznikov's old stomping grounds. The VECTOR research lab is in Novosibirsk, a few hundred miles away, and another major lab is located in Stepnogorsk, roughly a hundred miles to the north in Kazakhstan," Sanderson said.

Daniel glanced at Farrington and raised an eyebrow. Despite their personality differences, he had come to trust Farrington's tactical assessment capabilities, finding them to be remarkably similar to his own. They had worked together to solve señor Galenden's problems, and Farrington had been Daniel's first choice for the Kazakhstan mission, although Sanderson had already assigned Farrington to the team. Sanderson had logically placed Farrington on the team because he spoke fluent Russian and was the de facto leader of the Russian AO Group.

The three other men in the room comprised the newest batch of Russian AO operatives. Sergei, Andrei and Leo, all born in the U.S. to Russian emigrants; all former U.S. military special operations soldiers, all currently fluent in several Russian dialects, and trained to blend seamlessly into Russian surroundings. Apparently, the Russian AO training regimen prohibited regular bathing, as all three of them reeked of body odor and sour breath. They looked rough, ungroomed, and slightly aloof. The effect was amazingly effective. They'd fit in on any Russian street, right down to the brands of clothing they wore on a daily basis. If anyone was going to compromise their group, it would be Daniel, who smelled like a blend of citrus and sandalwood soap.

"Looks like it's time to quit showering and shaving," Daniel said.

"You should go for a nice, long run in your clothes," Sergei said in Russian.

Daniel replied in passable Russian, which he had studied in college, and continued at the compound. Still, his Russian skills left a lot to be desired compared to the four men he would accompany to Kazakhstan under the guise of a Russian mineral survey team. He wouldn't be doing most of the talking, which probably gave Farrington a sense of satisfaction and relief.

"Do I have time for a body odor inducing run?"

"Nyet. You need to leave within the hour. You'll travel in small groups separately, and I need to route most of you in a fashion that brings you through Moscow. I want you on the ground in Kazakhstan within twenty-four hours. Everyone should head over to the Kremlin and grab all of your clothing and personal travel gear. I need to make a call to finalize your equipment arrangements," Sanderson said.

Daniel glanced at Farrington again.

"Weapons?" Farrington said.

"I'm thinking pistols and a few concealable submachine guns. Nothing that would raise too many eyebrows in Kazakhstan," Sanderson said.

Daniel knew he didn't have to prompt Farrington any further. Pistols and submachine guns were the standard load-out for a low to medium risk operation. Neither of them believed this operation qualified as such. The CIA didn't just stumble across this site without some help. If the CIA found it, they could assume the Russians had found it, too. If the CIA and Russian FSB weren't working together on this one, it would be fair to assume that the Russians had a reason to pursue Reznikov on their own.

"Upgrade the kit to local assault rifles with good optics. It's not uncommon for civilian engineers in these areas to bring heavier firepower. We'll keep most of it concealed in the vehicle," Farrington said.

"I assume you agree with this assessment?" he said, looking at Daniel.

"We're probably not the only ones interested in this site if I'm reading between the lines correctly."

"All right. I'll make this happen. Take a few more minutes to look at the satellite images and make sure everything is marked on your maps in a discreet fashion. I want you driving out of here in an hour. We'll meet one more time in fifty minutes. Daniel, can I talk to you for a minute?" he said and walked toward the empty fireplace.

"I need you back here in forty-five. Your cover will have to be different, and I need to go over it with you. It'll explain why your Russian is rusty, if anyone picks up on that…and the fact that you look like a spoiled, Latin American trust fund kid," he said.

"I wasn't expecting to make any clandestine trips to Kazakhstan. This isn't exactly in my job description," Daniel said.

"I need someone with your instincts and field experience on this one. Farrington is good, but he still needs some fine tuning. This is a great opportunity for you to hand off the baton to him. I know Jessica's heart isn't in the program anymore, though she puts on a good show, and I realize I can't keep the two of you here forever. I've been greedy with your time, and frankly, I didn't think the two of you would last nearly two years. I expected you to have disappeared by now and I'm really appreciative that the two of you have stuck around as long as you have. Give me one more good op with Farrington and then get back here to finish up what you started with your sniper protégés. A few more months tops, and I'll support you and Jessica in doing whatever you choose," he said and stuck his hand out.

Daniel took the general's hand firmly, while eyeing him suspiciously. "Didn't you make this promise to me once before?"

"We never shook on it, if you remember correctly, and a few unavoidable complications arose."

"Well, just to put you on notice, I won't let any complications get in the way this time, and neither will Jessica."

"Fair enough. You better get moving," Sanderson said and slapped him on the shoulder.

Daniel turned to the group still hovered around the table. "Rich, make sure the maps are properly marked and the GPS handhelds are programmed before we leave. I'll meet you at the Kremlin in thirty minutes. Size thirty-two waist. Medium for any shirts—"

"Daniel," Sanderson interrupted, "you'll be joining the team as a travelling executive from an Argentinian mineral exploration company. The company exists, but the reference phone numbers provided to customs in Kazakhstan will forward to a dummy phone center run by an influential Argentinian gentleman who has agreed to help us. You can dress in your usual clothes."

"Well, that sure beats having to stop wiping my ass and taking showers. I'll have to grab some winter gear somewhere along the way. See everyone in a few," he said and walked out of the lodge.

Five minutes later, he finished explaining the situation to Jessica, who had been waiting impatiently for him to return. She wasn't happy with the quick departure, but on the whole seemed all right with the entire package presented by Sanderson. He wasn't surprised by her quick acceptance of Sanderson's proposal. Neither one of them relished the idea of simply vanishing. One more operation and a few more months of training, in which both of them could wrap up their core instruction, was reasonable. Each of them could prepare an interim instructor. Melendez could easily outshoot Daniel, and Jessica wasn't the only qualified knife instructor at the compound. Farrington was more than handy with a combat knife and could take over the training until Abraham Sayar received the final nod from Sanderson.

Sayar had qualified as an edged weapons and hand-to-hand combat instructor with the Israeli Defense Force's Sayeret Matkal (Special Forces), but had been dismissed from service in 2006 for an alleged prisoner mishandling incident during the Second Lebanon War. Born in Israel and transplanted to America by his parents, Sayar returned to his homeland at age eighteen and enlisted in the IDF. Upon his dishonorable discharge, he returned to the States to try and join the U.S. Army Special Forces, but met with no "official" success. Identified by contacts still loyal to Sanderson, Abraham Sayar was recruited for an "off the books" program that suited both of their needs.

Jessica kissed him passionately as soon as he had finished telling her all of the details, and they pulled each other up the thick wooden stairs to the bedroom loft. They made the best out of the remaining thirty minutes, lustily testing the sturdiness of the queen-sized bed that had arrived at the compound nineteen months ago, to the complete chagrin of Sanderson and pretty much every other operative at the compound. They had spent a lot of productive time together in that bed, practicing for the day that they could put all of this behind them and truly start over on their own terms.

They both wanted to start a family at some point, but hadn't seriously considered the idea until recently. The scars of her ordeal in Serbia were still too close to the surface when they had settled in Maine, and he hadn't been in the best mental shape either, still plagued by a sense of transience and paranoia. Only the prospect of making a clean break from Argentina had started them talking about it, and even then they would still wait. He wasn't sure how long, but both of them needed to feel reasonably reassured that the ghosts from their past had finally given up.