The Perfect Candidate: A Lance Priest / Preacher Thriller (No. 1) (26 page)

Gregor Ivanovich Smelinski didn’t like losing control. And he didn’t much care for his long-cultivated and developed agent resources turning on him and the
Komitet Gosudarstvennoi Bezopasnosti – The Committee of State Security. The KGB, for the rest of us.

As Director of Intrasecurity, Smelinski was charged with keeping the heads of regional KGB units in line. There were only three men above him at the KGB and no one who knew more about the individual agents and their operations. Not many citizens of the Soviet Union had traveled more than he over the last 33 years. After a requisite stint in the Soviet Army, he had worked his way up the ranks of the KGB from Prague to Paris to London to a brief stay in the United States before returning in 1980 to assume his current role as resident tough guy and strategic knuckle breaker.

Gregor the Terrible had kept order among the KGB ranks with an iron fist, even as the Union broke apart at the end of the 80s. The leaders of the organization had come to rely on him to bring order to chaos, take out the trash and remove regional department heads summarily, without hesitation. Many had disappeared -- without warning. His reign over KGB resources was as ruthless as his exchanges with CIA, MI6 and other western intelligence agencies. Smelinski was old school, but his knowledge of current events across the entire union was unsurpassed. It was this fact and reputation that tore at him most when agents went rogue, AWOL. And rogue agents were becoming the norm. Perestroika brought with it the freedom for KGB agents to consider new ventures, to become entrepreneurs.

And too many knew how and where to obtain valuable materials much sought after in desperate and troubled places around the world. AK-47s were in demand throughout Africa. Opium is always in demand in Europe. And nuclear warheads, or at least, nuclear materials capable of being weaponized, were the ultimate prize for an array of terrorist organizations and third-world governments.

It was this last element that necessitated the call Smelinski had just made from a phone booth outside a quaint little restaurant in Kiev. At the other end of the line had been an individual the KGB legend had battled for decades. He’d beaten him on a few occasions, lost to him many times, but had never been successful in killing this particular nemesis. They’d come face-to-face a few times and even fired on each other once in Sierra Leone, but neither had been able to eliminate the other. Respect between them was mutual. As was hatred.

Times had indeed changed, Smelinski thought to himself as he rubbed the graying stubble on his chin. Seibel sounded sincere just now in his appreciation of the information the KGB master shared. The American didn’t question his Russian counterpart’s motives for the call. He even seemed to be a few steps ahead of the storyline he’d just been told -- always the way it is with Seibel. No one worked harder to obtain usable information. No one cultivated more resources in more places.

Smelinski had always been envious of this aspect of their relationship. Always a step behind. But this problem needed to be shared; needed to be acted upon by both sides. Rogue KGB agents had finally done what all had forever feared. Nuclear materials had been stolen. Communications had been uncovered between KGB players and elements within the governments of several Middle East and South Asia nations. Seibel knew it was Iraq.

“This is perhaps the single most dangerous situation we have ever faced,” Smelinski spoke bluntly into the phone, his breath fogging before him in the tiny phone booth. “I cannot overemphasize the severity of this matter.”

“You have confirmed all of this in the field?” Seibel already knew the answer, but wanted to get verbal confirmation from the long tenured enemy.

Smelinski replied, “Confirmed. Materials have been removed. Photographic confirmation relayed directly to my hands. And since, communications have been traced. Players are being identified.”

“Do you have leads on these players?” Seibel already had a pretty good idea.

“We do. They are former employees who have left of their own accord. Left without notice. No forwarding address. No severance.”

Seibel’s words to Account One in previous months were being confirmed now. He knew Smelinski better than most in the KGB. This call was no subterfuge. This was a cry for help from someone no longer able to keep a deadly secret. KGB agents had left the farm and taken their game to a new level.

“Next steps?” Seibel cut to the chase.

“You have resources in the desert?” Smelinski asked.

“Of course.”

“January 15 is only three weeks away. Action prior to the deadline may be required.” The United Nation’s deadline for Saddam’s Iraqi forces to leave Kuwait was fast approaching and everyone knew he wouldn’t evacuate voluntarily.

“We read the newspapers over here as well,” Seibel replied sarcastically. “We know about the deadline and fully expect to be in the field at the time, as I’m sure will you.” Seibel felt the conversation had served its purpose and knew Smelinski had told all he had to tell on this secure line. “I appreciate the call Andre. Talk to you soon.”

Smelinski smiled to himself walking away from the phone booth. Andre was the cover he’d used in Brussels in 1968. Seemed like a lot more than 22 years ago now. He had turned a Nepalese representative much to the chagrin of Seibel and others who thought they had the opportunity to work the back channel into China. Instead, Smelinski saw to it that the tepid relations with their fellow communists in China were protected on their Himalayan flank. Such is the spy game. One side wins, the other loses. Those caught in the middle always pay.

With the call to Seibel complete, Smelinski figured his next steps would be tracking his former agents. He had enlisted the CIA as a last resort, but was not surprised to learn from the tenor of Seibel’s voice that he knew quite a bit already. Secrets were hard to keep, especially with war on the horizon.

He’d fully expected rogue activity from Korovin and Kusnetsov. He’d practically begged them to work outside the system as they built up their operations in Ukraine. Their leverage was a deep understanding of their country and culture, it’s roots beneath the Soviet topsoil. They had been remarkably successful in penetrating networks, from criminal gangs to local Army stations. And because their presence was so pervasive, they were instrumental in Smelinski’s efforts to keep control of all things KGB within Ukraine. That they were now entrepreneurs working freelance in a new Eastern Bloc free market economy was not unforeseeable. Just unfortunate timing.

They could have remained on KGB payroll and still worked their side businesses. But Smelinski had sensed they were in league with others. Others looking to capitalize on glasnost and perestroika and the end of centralized government. The age of capitalism was coming and K&K were merely embracing the dawning of this new day. Their choice to enter the nuclear arms sales business was unfortunate as well. They could have reaped the whirlwind for years in any number of developing black market industries affiliated with arms sales.

But the theft and marketing of nuclear weapons was simply going too far. K&K were in touch with certain elements within the Iraqi government. Negotiations were underway and the fate of a tiny invaded nation lay at their hands. Saddam needed oil to sell and to barter for necessities. And he needed the hundreds of millions and billions of dollars the oil below Kuwait could generate to complete the acquisition of his Mother of All Weapons. He was ready to trade oil money for nuclear supremacy. K&K were just the renegade types to provide him his needed tools, for the right price.

Their bravado had signed their own death warrants. They would never live to spend any of the hundreds of millions they hoped to gain. And whoever it was among the nascent but growing class of oligarchs supporting them and investing in their venture would also crash and burn. Gregor the Terrible would see to that. Heck, he might just kill them himself.

“So much greed.” Smelinski muttered to himself. “Such a waste of talent.”

Containing Korovin and Kusnetsov would not be easy. He planned to turn over their key attributes to Seibel and let the American and his resources be bloodied in combat with K&K. He’d relay all pertinent information to Seibel within days through a reliable channel in London.

Smelinski did have another card to play. Marta, like K&K, had operations in Iraq. She had “eyes” on K&K’s operations that Smelinski did not even know about. As the deal got close, Marta would simply one-up their ruthlessness with cunning and skill the two older agents did not possess.
Hopefully
.

Smelinski shook his head as he continued walking through the chilly Ukrainian night. He loved Kiev pretty much any season, but especially during winter. It was warmer and much more alive than Moscow. He wasn’t thinking of Kiev or winter or spitting snow. He was thinking of nuclear explosions in Tel-Aviv or Riyadh and the ensuing destruction, war and repercussions that would follow. Like Seibel, he had worked to build up and protect his country for decades. Nuclear weapons were the deterrent to offensive behavior by either side. Now they were in play like never before. Deterrent could soon be exchanged for nightmare if his former agents were successful in consummating their deal with the Butcher of Baghdad.