Chapter Three

 

 

December 16

EKO Cobra Field Station

Vienna, Austria

 

It was going to be bad. Justin realized the nightmare they were going to find themselves in just as he entered the station’s small, dark conference room. Lukas’s boss, Captain Albert Gunther, was sitting at the head of the table. His colorless face was full of wrinkles, and his black-framed glasses showed his beady eyes flitting back and forth, as if hunting for prey. Justin’s boss, Flavio Moretti, had taken the seat to Gunther’s right. Flavio was in his late fifties, but still had the physique of a thirty-year-old man who exercised every day and stayed on a healthy diet. His hair had thinned and turned ashen at the temples, and a large frown was stamped on his face, which was normally clear of deep creases.

“Sit down. We don’t have much time,” Gunther said in a gruff voice with his sharp German accent that left little doubt about his feelings.

“Great to see you, sir.” Justin nodded at his boss and sat across from him.

Flavio returned a slight nod, but his face remained locked in a stern look.

“So tell me, lady and gentlemen.” Gunther waved first at Carrie and then at Lukas and Justin. “How did this operation go so wrong?”

Lukas coughed to clear his throat.

Or possibly it’s to gain some time, Justin thought.

“Things took an unexpected turn, Captain.” Lukas kept his voice warm and unwavering. “There was an explosion, well, a series of explosions, followed by a gunfight. We did our best to keep the number of casualties to a minimum.”

“You’re being quite evasive, Lukas. Your report also is thin on specifics.” Gunther tapped the gray folder in front of him. “How did this man, this untrained civilian, botch up the operation? Why was he in the field if we weren’t sure he could handle his assignment?”

Lukas began to shrug and did not reply right away. He glanced at Justin, who leaned forward, ready to give an answer. But he noticed Flavio’s quick headshake, so Justin sat back.

Flavio said, “Gunther, our two agencies reviewed the pre-op assessment report and determined the insertion of the asset was the best option. There were some reservations about the possibility of something going sideways, but that possibility is and will always be there, even in the best laid plans.”

Justin nodded slowly. He liked how his boss had avoided mentioning Gunther as the man who had authorized the operation. Flavio also had not brought up Lukas’s explicit concerns about using the Syrian to carry the bomb inside the mosque.

Gunther shook his head, then pushed his glasses back up his nose with his thumb. “That may be right, Flavio, but the truth is that I’m left here holding the mop to clean up this mess. I’ve got nearly a dozen or so Muslims killed, half of whom are Austrian citizens. Their mosque, a place of worship and sanctuary, is almost razed to the ground. The media is all over this event, and the higher-ups are looking for heads to send rolling.” Gunther’s voice remained sharp and cold.

Justin could not take it any longer. “With all due respect, sir, you forgot to mention that you also have a long-sought terrorist finally found and killed, thanks to this operation. This man, this sheikh, purchased and shipped weapons to ISIS fighters, ordered innocent civilians to be butchered. And he was planning terrorist attacks here, in your country.” He paused just barely enough to catch his breath.

Flavio gave Justin a quick hand gesture to stop his verbal volley, but Justin ignored it. He continued, “Gunmen burst out of that ‘sanctuary’ with assault rifles and opened fire with machine guns. If we hadn’t responded with all we had, you would be arranging for some Austrian and Canadian flags to wrap our coffins. These are the facts, sir, and how about we talk about these, rather than assign blame?” He ended in a high-pitched tone, louder than he had intended, and slid back in his seat.

Gunther flinched and gave Justin a look of disbelief. A moment passed in tense silence, then Gunther said, “Well, thank you, Mr. Hall, for bringing to my attention these facts, which I had obviously forgotten.” His voice was full of sarcasm. “But now that we’ve gotten our passions out of the way, can we get back to how we’re going to handle this crisis?” Gunther glanced at Justin for a split second, then moved his gaze to Flavio.

He folded his hands across his chest. He flogged Justin with a disapproving gaze and made sure Gunther could see the look on Flavio’s face. Then he nodded toward Gunther and said, “My people, along with yours, will pore over the information gathered at the mosque. I’m confident most of the people will turn up to be either jihadists or supporters of the holy war. I understand about the backlash from the media and the Muslim community. However, with a bit of tact and diplomacy, the PR folks should be able to handle this matter quite nicely.”

Gunther tipped his head to the left. “Flavio, it seems you’ve misunderstood or perhaps are downplaying the impact of this incident. It’s a career killer, and I’m not only talking about myself.”

Flavio locked eyes with Gunther, then peered at him, in a way that told Justin his boss had reached the end of his rope. “I’ve neither misunderstood nor downplayed this gunfight. It’s a reality of our days and lives. We fight terrorism everywhere we find it. Today, it’s Vienna, tomorrow may be Paris or London.” Flavio’s voice remained calm, but he was firm, carefully stressing each and every word. “If your bosses want to sack you over doing your job to the best of your abilities, regardless of the circumstances, then it’s their loss, for they’re going to lose a good man.” Flavio produced a small smile, and his voice took on a warm tone.

Gunther nodded slowly, and the frown began to disappear from his face. “Yes, if I make them see it that way.”

Flavio’s smile grew wider. “I’m sure you will, Gunther. You always do. They’re politicians, right? Once they’ve realized they can spin this story as a heavy blow to terrorism—which is true—they’ll give you the respect you deserve.”

Gunther nodded again. “Well, in order to convince them, I need more details. So, let’s see what you folks left out of the report. I want to hear about everything that went on, from the moment the asset put on the suicide vest.”

Lukas heaved a sigh of relief and began to rattle off what he had seen and heard. Gunther interrupted with questions for clarifications, especially about the circumstances where terrorists opened fire. “These will be very crucial to meetings with my boss and his political masters,” Gunther said more than once, whilst prying for such details.

About half an hour later, all three agents had given Gunther their version of events. Justin was sure that Gunther would request, if he had not done so already, another meeting with Vale and Dolina, so he could get their side of the story and have the full picture of what had taken place at the mosque.

When Gunther was done, he dismissed Lukas for another pressing matter without going into specifics. Flavio asked Justin and Carrie to wait for him outside, as he was going to have a final word with Gunther.

“Well, that didn’t go too badly,” Carrie said when they were out in the hall, about ten paces away from the conference room door.

“You’re right; it could have gone much worse—he could have put the blame on Flavio or us.”

“Flavio didn’t like the way you responded to Gunther.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Justin said in a gruff voice and leaned against the beige wall.

Carrie stepped closer to him. She brushed back her auburn hair and peered deep into his eyes. “What is it, Justin? What’s stressing you out?”

“Huh? What . . . what are you talking about?”

Carrie smiled. Her green eyes searched his face, but he knew they were penetrating to his soul. “C’mon, Justin. Level with me. You’re worried about something.”

“I’m . . . I’m just fine, Carrie.”

“Yeah, right. Who says ‘I’m just fine’?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.” She shook her head. “What are you trying to keep from me? You’re worried about your dad?”

“I wasn’t, until you brought it up.”

“When will you hear about the surgery?”

“Not sure. Seth was supposed to have sent me a note. Let me check.” Justin pulled the phone from his suede jacket. He tapped the screen, then scrolled through the emails. He read the top one, then bit his lip. “Seth’s saying that they postponed the surgery. Again. My dad’s just too frail.”

“I’m sorry, Justin.” Carrie placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. He’ll . . . he should be getting better in a couple of days. Well, that’s what Seth’s saying.”

Seth was Justin’s older brother. Their father, Carter, had been diagnosed with stage 3A non-small cell lung cancer about a year and a half ago. He had undergone preoperative chemotherapy, a surgery in California, and adjuvant chemotherapy, and was taking a number of controversial new treatments, considering the cancer victims’ survival rate of less than fifteen percent. The cancer seemed to have returned, but doctors were not a hundred percent sure. Thus, the invasive procedure.

The illness had brought Justin closer to his estranged dad and to his brother, who had always been their father’s favorite son. The reconciliation process, however, was slow and difficult. The occasional phone calls and rare visits could not make up for almost two decades of absence and bitterness. And their firebrand temperaments certainly did not help.

“But he was doing well when you saw him last week back in Toronto, right?”

“Yeah.” Justin nodded. “A little foggy-brained and tired, light-headed at times, but otherwise pretty well. But that’s living with cancer for you. You have good days, and then you have awful days.”

“Sorry, again.”

Justin shrugged. “The old man is tough as an ox. He’ll survive this. When I last talked to one of his doctors, he rattled on about Dad having a ‘treatable’ mutation. Can’t remember the name, an acronym of some sort . . . EG . . . epithelial growth . . . something like that. Anyway, he’s on a new immunotherapy that’s supposed to do wonders for patients with similar cancers.”

“Still doesn’t dull the pain.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

The conference room door creaked behind them, and Flavio stepped out in the hall.

Justin straightened up and put his phone away. He waited until their boss was a couple of steps away, then opened his mouth, but Flavio silenced him with a hand gesture. “Give us some space.” He motioned for Carrie to leave them alone.

“I’ll meet you downstairs, sir. Justin.” She turned toward the elevators.

“All right,” Justin said.

“Walk with me.” Flavio headed down the hall in the other direction. He stopped when they reached the end by the windows and the fire exit. Then he faced Justin and said, “I didn’t appreciate what you did back there.” He pointed his finger toward the conference room. “Gunther can be a jerk, but I’m the only one who can tell him that, not you.”

“I understand, sir,” Justin said in a calm tone.

“I hope you do, Justin. I don’t want this to become a trend. We both know this isn’t your first time or the second or the third. But let’s make sure it’s your last, shall we?” Flavio gave Justin a piercing glare.

Justin nodded. “I’ll . . . I will do my best.”

“You’re a great agent, Justin. You’ve got talent, skills, and courage. You’re honest and smart. Rarely do you see all these in a man, or a woman, anymore. But let’s admit it, you’re not a people person. How about we focus your skills out there, where you do the greater good? And we can leave the bureaucratic talk and boardroom power plays to others?”

Justin nodded again. He did not like what Flavio was saying, but he was right. Justin had acted like a bull in a china shop. He had never mastered tactfulness and the delicate art of diplomacy. Justin was more a guns and explosives kind of agent, not the sleek smooth-talker type. Ever since he had been a recruit at The Plant—the training facility for CIS recruits—he had always disliked the classes on subtleties and sensitivities of negotiations, opting instead for weapons handling and tactical driving courses.

“Justin, I’m still waiting for an answer.” Flavio’s voice took on a firmer tone.

“Yes, sorry, sir, of course. I was out of line.”

“Good. Now, with that out of the way, Captain Gunther shared with me some good news.” Flavio lowered his voice and stepped closer to Justin. “He was kind enough to give me an updated report on our disappeared asset. He has been spotted in London, or so it appears from the intel obtained from MI6.” Flavio produced a small gray flash drive and placed it into Justin’s hand. “Review it with the team, and do what you need to do to find the asset.”

“What level of priority is this op?”

“Top level. We need to know where he is, what he has been doing these last few days, and, most important, why he never showed up to the meet with our agents.”

Justin nodded. He paused for a moment, then asked, “And what authorization do we have when we find him?”

Flavio replied without hesitation. “We need him alive, as we can’t talk to the dead. But if that’s not possible, you have the order to kill.”