Scorpion: A Covert Ops Novel (Second Edition) (27 page)

“Oh, the hell I
won’t,” Aleksa said, irritated with people talking about her as if she wasn’t
present.  “These people killed my friend. I still have a story to write, and
it’s your fault I’m here. I’m not going to be quiet about this.”

Avery’s head
hurt. “Look, we’ll talk about it later.”

 He needed to
discuss with her about what exactly she intended to do with everything she’d
saw and learned. As far as he was concerned, she could print what she wanted,
but anything that happened after she met him in Minsk was off-limits.

He turned to
Poacher. “What’s the story here?”

“After I got
your message, I contacted the boss.” Poacher didn’t want to use Matt Culler’s
name in front of Gerald or Aleksa. “He said he’d to try to get a Predator over
here to stick on the Antonov. I haven’t heard back from him on that. I have no
idea if he has anything en route, and even if he was successful, it’s coming
from Bagram, so it’ll probably be too late to do us any good. If you’re right
about the cargo, then the Russians are going to fly it out of here ASAP.”

“Why would they
do that?” Aleksa asked. “They just flew it all the way here from Europe. They’re
going to deliver it to the processing facility.”

“Bullshit,”
Poacher said, pointing a thumb in the direction of the spectacle unfolding back
at the airport. “The game’s up. They’re finished.”

“They have all
of Aleksa’s notes and research,” Avery replied. “They’ll know that the location
of the processing plant isn’t compromised.”

“He has a point,”
Gerald offered.

“So this is the
end of the line?” Poacher asked. “We have no idea where the HEU’s going and no
way of tracing it, unless we can get an UAV up there in the next five minutes?”

 “Not
necessarily.” Avery thought it over. There was something that had been stuck in
his mind since he’d first talked to Aleksa in Minsk. “Gerald, remember you were
telling me about CERTITUDE looking into a construction project underway in
Gorno-Badakhshan?”

 Gerald
hesitated before responding. “I remember. Why?”

“I want everything
you have on it, all of CERTITUDE’s reports.”

Gerald opened
his mouth to waffle, protest, and obfuscate further.

But Avery cut
him off before he could utter a single word. “Immediately. I haven’t finished
my investigation, which means you’re still expected to cooperate fully.”

“I’m not so sure
about that,” Gerald said, looking ahead over Darren’s shoulder.

They approached
the embassy. Three GKNB cars waited on Rudaki Avenue outside the gates as the
Forerunners pulled up. The doors swung open, and uniformed Tajiks, including
Colonel Sergei Ghazan, climbed out.

“He got here
fast,” Darren observed.

 Avery told
Aleksa to stay in the car. He got out with Poacher and Gerald, careful to obscure
the Tajiks’ view inside the Forerunner, and quickly shut the door, so that they
didn’t catch a glimpse of Aleksa. He had an ugly feeling where this was going,
and he wasn’t sure there was much he could do about it.

Gerald
approached Ghazan, and the two chatted for a bit, out of Avery’s earshot. After
a few minutes, Gerald turned and waved for Avery to join them. Ghazan provided
him the document from the Interior Ministry declaring Avery persona non grata
and ordering his immediate ejection from the Republic of Tajikistan.

Avery didn’t
resist or argue. There was no point. Cramer was long gone and not returning
here, and there were other ways to slip into Gorno-Badakhshan, if that was in
fact where the uranium was headed next. He wouldn’t waste time collecting all
of his gear and belongings, which was infeasible anyway, since the GKNB would
escort him wherever he went next. He was prepared to leave immediately and told
as much to Ghazan, who seemed surprised at Avery’s cooperation

Avery only
requested that he be allowed to make a private phone call first, which Ghazan
granted. Avery used Poacher’s phone to call Culler, who picked up on the second
ring. Avery explained the situation and requested transportation. The
conversation took ninety seconds. Then Avery returned to Ghazan and Gerald.

Ghazan next
requested access to the occupants of the Forerunner, claiming that they were
harboring a Russian national wanted for questioning. Gerald, to his credit,
refused the request and suggested that Ghazan take up the request with the
American ambassador. In response, Ghazan gave a disappointed look, pulled out
his cell phone, and called the Tajik interior minister.

No more than eight
minutes later, Gerald received a call from the DCM.

Standing nearby,
Avery listened to Gerald get his ass reamed out and verbally handed to him by
one irate deputy chief of mission, while Gerald stammered, stuttered, and,
ultimately, disappointingly but predictably submitted.

Gerald ended the
call and turned to Darren. “We are releasing Miss Denisova into the custody of
the Tajik Ministry for Internal Affairs. They will deliver her to the Russian
embassy. From there, I am assured she will be sent safely home.”

“Like fuck you
are.” Avery’s eyes flashed, and he moved in on Gerald, ready to tear his throat
out. Gerald flinched and jumped back. Ghazan’s men tensed, too, and a couple
hands inched closer to their side arms, eyes locked on Avery, as if he were a
rabid dog. “I don’t give a fuck what DCM told you. I’m responsible for her, not
you. You can’t hand her over to them.”

Darren came
between them. His eyes locked onto Avery’s. His hand lingered near his pistol.
“Stand down
now
.”

“Stay the fuck
out of my way, you prick.”

Poacher stepped
up behind Avery and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy, boss. Don’t
do anything stupid. My guys will keep track of things here. Just relax, okay?”

Avery finally nodded
and backed down. Satisfying as it was, sticking Gerald in the face wasn’t going
to accomplish anything. When he glanced past Darren’s shoulder, he saw one of
the CIA officers escorting Aleksa to Ghazan’s officers. She looked back at him,
and he saw the confusion and panic in her eyes, questioning if he’d stabbed her
in the back and abandoned her. They guided her into the back of one of their
cars and shut the door, and it seemed as if the ordeal they had just went
through aboard the Antonov had been for nothing.

There was
nothing further Avery could do here. It was a feeling that was becoming increasingly
common lately, and he grew sick of it. If he intervened, he’d have both sides
going after him, and the DCM would probably happily allow the Tajiks to throw
him in jail.  

 Gerald looked
relieved when two armed GKNB officers finally directed Avery into the back of a
marked car, just as the car carrying Aleksa pulled away.

First the Tajiks
took Avery to GKNB headquarters, for “processing” and for him to fill out
paperwork. They held him there over two hours before finally delivering him back
to the airport. The emergency vehicles and Russian military helicopters were
long gone by that time. The GKNB officers sat with Avery and waited in the departures
lounge for another hour before the CIA plane that had first brought him here returned.
The Learjet had been staying at the Manas Transit Center, an American-leased
military facility at Bishkek’s international airport, in neighboring Kyrgyzstan
the past five days.

The GKNB officers
escorted Avery across the tarmac. They watched him climb the stairs into the
cabin. Once he was finally in the air, they departed and reported to Colonel Ghazan
that Avery was gone.

Culler had
arranged for a USAF medic stationed at Manas to make the flight. Avery refused
the morphine she offered, but allowed her to examine him and apply bandages
around his chest and stitch his face. He hadn’t sustained any internal bleeding
or ruptured organs. She advised him to get plenty of rest and to stay off his
feet, instructions Avery was confident he wouldn’t follow, at least not for the
next few days. Then he reclined his seat back and slept for the duration of the
flight.

Three hours later, Avery awoke in time for
the Learjet’s jarring corkscrew landing, a hair-raising, nausea-inducing countermeasure
against RPGs or SAMs in which the aircraft descends rapidly in a spiral from
high altitude, almost directly over the airport. By the time the jet touched
ground, Avery was fully awake and feeling like he’d just been on the world’s
most intense roller-coaster ride, while recovering from the world’s worst
hangover.

Bagram Air Base
is located about thirty miles north of Kabul. In 1999, the Northern Alliance
seized control of the base from the Taliban, later allowing it to be utilized
by the Americans during the Afghan war. It has since become the largest
American military base in the country, accommodating aircraft of any size and housing
numerous units from NATO’s International Security Assistance Force. CIA also
maintained a presence here.

Wrecks of Cold
War-era Soviet aircraft lined the main 10,000 foot long runway on either side,
as the Learjet rolled in.

As he deplaned,
Avery was surprised to be met on the tarmac by Matt Culler. The CIA officer
wore unmarked camouflage fatigues to better blend in, since civilian dress
would quickly identify him as a spook.

“Good Christ, Avery,
you look like complete shit,” Culler observed without humor.

Avery ignored
the remark and shook the proffered hand. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“D/NCS needed me
in-country on something unrelated,” Culler said, and didn’t elaborate. Avery
knew Culler juggled multiple ops at any given time, and Afghanistan and
Pakistan remained the primary focus of the National Clandestine Service. “I
arrived yesterday morning, and good thing that I did. I’ve recalled Sideshow
from Tajikistan. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

That caught
Avery’s attention. As if reading his thoughts, Culler said, “Something’s come
up.”

“Is there an
op?” Avery asked. He tried not to sound eager.

“I’ll explain
when everyone’s here,” Culler said. Avery knew better than to persist. “But I
need to know more about what you found in Minsk.”

They loaded into
a Humvee driven by an Agency contractor who took them across the base. Along
the way, Avery brought Culler up-to-speed on everything he’d seen in Belarus
and Tajikistan, and relayed the information from Aleksa Denisova. Practically a
human tape recorder, Avery was able to recount his encounter with Cramer almost
word-for-word. It left Culler with the same uneasy feeling Avery had
experienced.

“Basically he
feels disrespected and unappreciated, and he’s pissed off about it,” Avery
concluded, glibly dismissing Cramer’s motivations. “He’s no different than any
other fucking traitor or sell-out.”

“It’s just so
hard to believe that someone like Cramer could do this,” Culler thought out
loud. “It just feeds into all the bullshit from the media and congress about
CIA being the bad guy and a rogue agency. You weren’t kidding when you said
this could be the end of the National Clandestine Service if word gets out.”

Camp Cunningham,
Bagram’s local CIA compound, was located behind blast walls, razor wire, and
sandbagged machine gun emplacements. Security contractors with mirror
sunglasses, beards, and tattoos lingered around, cradling rifles in relaxed
positions and caustically watching the approaching Humvee. Avery recognized a
few faces from the Global Response Staff from jobs in Libya and Iraq, but there
was no acknowledgment between them.

Past the
security checkpoint, Culler led Avery into a plywood hut converted into an
office space. Culler took a plate of goat meat and rice out of the mini-fridge,
microwaved it, and handed it to Avery with a bottle of water. Avery wasn’t
hungry, but he knew his body needed sustenance—it had been well over a day
since he’d eaten, plus his body needed to repair itself and refuel—so he forced
every bit of it down his throat until his stomach was full.

“I tasked a
Predator to Dushanbe shortly after you had your earlier excitement there,”
Culler said. He replayed the recording of the Predator footage on his computer.
It showed the Russian Mi-8 helicopters taking off from Dushanbe International,
after taking unknown cargo held in massive wooden crates removed from the GlobeEx
Antonov. Although the choppers quickly out-flew the Predator, the drone later
spotted the helicopters at Ayni Airbase. There, the cargo was loaded onto three
heavy Ural trucks. “Shortly before you landed, we tracked those trucks to the
TCIDC factory Dushanbe station investigated last year. Your intuition paid
off.”

Avery wasn’t
surprised.

Dushanbe
station’s file on the innocuous-sounding Tajikistan Cement Investment and
Development Company, or TCIDC, contained scant information, which wasn’t
surprising since Cramer had called off all inquiries into the company and
placed a tight reign over the flow of any and all information pertaining to the
plant. According to publicly available sources, the firm worked on
infrastructure development projects in Gorno-Badakhshan, but there was no
available information as to who owned TCIDC or managed the factory. TCIDC was
based in Dushanbe and had close financial ties to a Russian-based NGO that was
a known front company for Aleksander Litvin’s GlobeEx.

American intelligence
agencies regularly tracked construction activity in rogue and terrorist states,
looking out for projects that were larger than they should be, had unusual
levels of military or police presence, didn’t correlate with known projects, or
had the potential to manufacture dual-use equipment. They also closely
monitored the firms involved in these projects and their purchase orders.

 This was how
CIA and Mossad were alerted to the existence of Syria’s North Korean-built
nuclear reactor, which had been capable of fueling two bombs a year, at the
al-Kibar facility in Deir ez-Zor in 2007. Israeli Sayerat Matkal operators, dressed
in Syrian army uniforms, later infiltrated the facility to obtain samples of
weapons grade materials, prompting Tel Aviv to launch Operation Orchard, the
Israeli Air force strike that demolished al-Kibar.

It was common
practice to disguise WMD facilities as legitimate civilian operations. The IAEA
had inspected Iraqi and Libyan industrial plants possessing dual use
infrastructure. A fertilizer plant in Rabata had been the centerpiece of
Gadaffi’s chemical weapons program. In Malaysia, AQ Khan used a legitimate
industrial plant to manufacture centrifuges for sale on the black market.

 But if Cramer had
reported to Langley that Dushanbe station thoroughly investigated the TCIDC
project in Gorno-Badakhshan and found nothing to warrant suspicion and found no
connection to missing Pakistani nuclear scientists, then that would be
sufficient for CIA’s analysts to lose interest and close the file.

From the
satellite photos the TCIDC plant looked exactly like what it claimed to be: a
medium-sized cement factory, complete with a rotary kiln, cement mill,
pre-heater tower, remix silo, and exhaust stack. Until the 1970s, the plant had
been fully operational, later becoming one of numerous ex-Soviet assets
acquired by Litvin and then upgraded over the past year, ostensibly for
humanitarian and developmental assistance in Tajikistan.

There was no
indication of military usage or enhanced security measures, or anything else
that the satellite analysts looked out for, although there was a pair of men
atop the network of scaffoldings mounted around the pre-heater tower, which
would make for an ideal guard post. The only feature that really stood out was
the landing pad capable of receiving small helicopters atop the pre-heater
tower, but in an area as remote as this, it made sense to have helicopter
accessibility, and TCIDC owned helicopters provided by GlobeEx Transport. Other
than a tall perimeter fence, there were no visible defenses around the plant.
No guard posts at the gates, machine gun encampments, trenches, or military
vehicles. None of the visible personnel carried weapons.

But that also wasn’t
unusual, and it didn’t mean that the factory was as innocent as it seemed. 

In the vast desert
surrounding the al-Kibar facility, Syria had operated an extensive air defense
network of Russian Tor-M1 missiles, which had been easily jammed by the Israeli
Air Force, but there’d been no heavy military equipment or troop concentrations
at the site itself. Missiles, radars, and armored vehicles can quickly attract
the attention of aerial surveillance platforms. Usama bin Laden’s compound in
Abottabad also had practically non-existent security, which was partially why it
had gone unnoticed for as long as it did.

 “So this is why
Wilkes was killed,” Avery thought out loud. “He must have connected the nuclear
smuggling pipeline to this place. Then he sent CERTITUDE to check it out. So
Cramer set-up a fake meet in Khorugh between Wilkes and CERTITUDE, and they
were ambushed by that Chechen asshole I tossed into the Caspian.”

“So it would
seem.”

“Fuck, I lost Cramer,
Matt. I don’t see how we’ll pick up his trail again from here. He’ll know how
to make himself disappear.”  He supposed that CIA and the FBI would need to
take over. Then it’d only be a matter of time before the inevitable scandal
exploded across the headlines and the congressional investigations began,
placing the National Clandestine Service on the chopping block.  

“Don’t worry
about Cramer for now,” Culler replied. “We’ll catch up with him at some point.
Right now, our first and only priority is a terrorist nuke factory operating
right under our noses.”

Avery shook his
head. Everything was fully sinking in now, sight of the bigger picture and not
just a narrow-sighted desire to run Cramer down. “The Taliban have the
materials, infrastructure, and the personnel now to produce nuclear weapons.
It’s probably only a matter of months. This target needs to be taken out, Matt.”

“No can do,”
Culler said. “Sure, we have the airpower right here at Bagram, but Washington
won’t risk the fallout and environmental damage. An F-16 drops a couple smart
bombs on that place, and it’ll turn into a giant dirty bomb, dispersing HEU all
over eastern Tajikistan.”

This was the
same reason the US Air Force hadn’t taken out Serbia’s Vinca Institute of Nuclear
Science, which had been on the target list in 1999. America’s restraint spared
Belgrade from glowing in the dark, but German BND later reported that Slobodan
Milosevic sold quantities of Vinca’s nuclear material on the black market to
Russian organized crime.

“But this isn’t
a populated city,” Avery protested. “This is the middle of nowhere. The nearest
village is a dozen miles away with a population of fifty.”

“There may be
low risk of civilian causalities, but the White House still can’t risk turning
a former Soviet republic into a radioactive wasteland. High winds can easily
carry the fallout into neighboring countries, including India and Afghanistan. The
White House would also prefer that this matter be handled discretely, to use as
leverage against the Russians in the future. The Kremlin will know damn well
what happened here, and they’ll want to keep it quiet.”

Of course, Avery
thought. If the air force bombed the site now, America would take the blame for
the fallout and for conducting offensive military operations violating the
sovereignty of a former Soviet republic. But if they could covertly and safely
extract the HEU, then the White House would have the upper-hand against the
Kremlin.

“There’s
something else, Avery, something that may change your mind about bombing the
site. Sideshow reported that the GKNB handed Aleksa Denisova over to Oleg Ramzin.”

Culler continued
playing the recording of the Predator footage of the TCIDC plant. The time stamp
indicated that this clip was barely two hours old. Avery watched a Russian thug
help a female down from one of the trucks. He couldn’t see her face, but he
recognized Aleksa from her size, hair, clothing, and gait. He wondered if they
were intentionally holding her there as a human shield. Probably not, he
decided. Most likely they were going to question her and then kill her.

 “What about a
ground operation?”

 “The intel’s not
strong enough to green light a JSOC retrieval mission,” Culler said. Avery
sensed where this was going. “I need proof that there’s HEU onsite.”

___

Overnight, while Avery slept on an
undersized cot at Bagram, the members of the Sideshow unit, after thoroughly
sanitizing the safe house and leaving nothing behind, left Dayrabot in two separate
vehicles, travelling south on the A384 highway into Afghanistan. They entered
the country through an unmanned border crossing. Five miles into Afghanistan,
they were met by a US Army MH-60 Black Hawk helicopter. The team boarded the Black
Hawk with their gear and was off the ground en route to Bagram three minutes
later. Culler was on hand to personally meet them when the Black Hawk deposited
them at Camp Cunningham at 10:23 AM.

Given Avery’s
current condition, Culler and Poacher agreed to be charitable and allow him
additional time to sleep before they held the briefing session. They’d give him
until noon, if he wasn’t already up by that time. Culler wouldn’t receive the
latest satellite data until later that day anyway, and in the meantime, the
TCIDC factory remained under constant surveillance by Predator drones and KH-13
reconnaissance satellites, so they could afford to wait. Unlike Avery, though,
the members of Sideshow were rested and ready for their next mission.