Chapter Nineteen

 

 

December 18

ECS Stockholm Station

Sweden

 

Justin woke up at a quarter past seven. His head was a bit foggy, and his arm wound was throbbing, but otherwise he felt great. The smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, and he wondered whether the rest of the team was up. He made his way to the hall. Carrie was sitting at the dining table, nursing her cup. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Carrie, when did . . . did you even sleep last night?”

“Yeah, a couple of hours. Then I was hungry, and my stomach just wouldn’t stop rumbling. And my brain was too focused on this case to relax and shut down.”

Justin stifled a yawn and shuffled toward the coffeemaker. “Thanks for making coffee.”

“You’re welcome. We’re out of the regular, so I opened up a new bag. Dark roast from Peru.”

Justin filled his cup and sipped the coffee. “Mmmmm, it’s good and strong.”

“Bitter?”

“No, not really. It has more of a smoky and chocolaty taste.”

“You’ll have to thank Stella. She brought it in last night.”

Stella was the CIS liaison with the Swedish intelligence service and other Swedish government departments.

“Did she have anything new from SAPO?”

“No, the Swedish intel operatives are doing the impossible, but they’re coming up empty. Al-Nueimi has disappeared.”

“Is Vale up?”

“Yeah, he’s out jogging.”

Justin took another sip. “I’m going to work out. Then, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh, it’s all taken care of. Stella’s bringing takeout at eight.”

“She’s a saint.”

“A true one.”

“Well, that gives me enough time. Then I’ll give you a hand. What are you reviewing?”

“Seeing if there’s anything new from overnight intel reports that could give us a hint about al-Nueimi. Maybe an associate nabbed in London, Paris, or elsewhere. But nothing.”

“Well, you’re trying.”

Justin went to the basement, where a room had been converted into gym space, and began his workout. It was a high-intensity interval training, which combined short seven-to-eight-minute periods of intense exercises with rest periods of thirty seconds to a minute in between. Depending on the day and how much time he had, Justin’s workout included bench presses, barbell bent over rows, pull-ups and chin-ups, crunches—and the list went on and on.

At the twenty-minute point, the front and the back of Justin’s t-shirt were soaked in sweat. He ended his workout with full body extensions and a high knee routine. He stretched, showered, and returned to the dining room around eight o’clock. Stella had arrived with their breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast with a variety of jams, and four extra-large cups of coffee.

“God bless you, Stella,” Justin said.

“Oh, may God bless us as we try to find this little devil,” she said in a low voice with her sharp Swedish accent.

Justin frowned, not because Stella reminded them of their unfinished business, but because her accent reminded him of Karolin. I should call her and talk to her. But what do I say other than apologize again for disappointing her? My excuses have grown old, and she’s growing impatient. He sighed, then said, “How about we forget about our assignment for a moment and enjoy breakfast?”

“That’s good,” Vale said. “We’ll have all day to worry about it.”

They all dug in and did not talk much. Work took most of their time, especially during extreme periods like the last couple of days. They had been so close to nabbing al-Nueimi, but now it all seemed lost.

Justin shrugged away the creeping thought that they were not going to stop the terrorist mastermind. Defeatist self-talk could bring about nothing good. If you thought you could not do something, you would not even try to do it. No, we’re going to catch that bastard.

He chewed slowly on the perfectly crisped bacon and gazed out the window, staring at nothing in particular. His thoughts turned to his dad, still waiting for a surgery date. The operation was more likely to kill him than heal him of cancer. Either way, Carter did not have much time. Estimates varied from a few months to a couple of years, depending on the doctor, but everyone knew Carter was not going to get better. He still had not accepted it, though, stubbornly acting as if he was going to live forever. I should be in the hospital, sitting next to my dad. What am I doing here? What’s the point? So we stop al-Nueimi. We kill him and all his fighters. Another hundred will rise up to take their place.

He sipped his coffee and stopped the negative train of thought. Hey, get a grip on yourself, man. You’ll find al-Nueimi and all his minions, stop them or kill them all. Fight today, and live to fight another day.

He smiled and took another sip. Then he opened his mouth to compliment Stella again on the good coffee choice, but his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Flavio.” He clicked the answer button, followed by the speakerphone one. “Yes, chief, this is Justin, and I have my team here, including Stella.”

“Hey, folks. How is everyone today?”

“Pretty good, sir. How about you?” Justin said.

“Oh, managing. The sun will come up sooner or later.”

“I’m sure it will.”

“I’m going to make this quick, since I don’t have much to say. No love from the CIA, which is infuriating. I’m not giving up, but of course, the higher I climb, the harder it gets. Any progress on the ground?”

Justin looked at the headshakes around the table. “Negative, sir. No progress.”

Flavio cursed al-Nueimi. “All right, keep shaking the trees and see what falls.”

“Got it, sir.”

“Take care, now.”

“You too, sir.”

Vale shook his head. “Well, that was disappointing.”

Justin said, “Yes, but we’re not going to let it get to us. I need to talk to Arkady about my meeting with Bianchi and the elusive couple.”

“What’s the likelihood the couple was SVR?” Carrie said.

Stella gave Justin a puzzled look. “What couple?”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t think you’ve been briefed on that.”

He told her in broad strokes what had happened at the café back in Rome. It was less than eight hours ago, but it felt so far away in space and time.

Stella shook her head, and a couple of her blonde curls fell over the side of her face. “Wow, Justin. And you have no idea who the couple is?”

“No, and to go back to Carrie’s question, it’s possible they were SVR. But the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that they were following Bianchi, not me. I took all necessary precautions.”

“And so did Bianchi,” Vale said.

Justin did not like Vale’s cold presumptuous tone that put the blame back in Justin’s court. But he decided it was not worth arguing with Vale over something none of them had any concrete facts on.

Carrie asked, “Are you going to ask Arkady plainly about the couple?”

“No, what’s the point in being blunt? He’s going to deny it, of course.”

“Yes, he probably will.”

Vale cursed the Russians.

Justin took another sip of coffee. He was not certain about what intelligence agency the couple worked for. They could be SVR, but they could also be Mossad, the Iranians, or the French. Sometimes Russians were blamed for things that were not even remotely related to them. Don’t underestimate, but also, and more importantly, don’t overestimate him either, was another line drilled deep into Justin’s mind from his time as a young recruit at The Plant.

The team finished breakfast and returned to their tasks. Stella agreed to drive Justin to meet with Arkady downtown, since she was going in that direction. She dropped him off at the corner of Birger Jarlsgatan and Iversonsgatan, near Humlegården, one of the largest parks in the exclusive area of Östermalm. One of the SVR’s stations in Stockholm was on the second floor of one of the apartment complexes along Birger Jarlsgatan.

Arkady was waiting for Justin outside the main entrance. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Something wrong?”

“No, but the chief’s in a bad mood. He has already chewed me out.” Arkady headed toward the sidewalk.

“What for?”

“Lack of progress. How was Italy?”

“Warm. Great coffee.”

“Glad you had fun. Anything else you want to tell me besides how you liked their espresso?”

“It was a cappuccino.”

“Espresso with milk. Next?”

Justin stepped closer to Arkady. “I learned quite a lot, actually. Slow down, or better yet, stop for a moment.”

Arkady turned to face Justin. “So?”

“Al-Nueimi’s son is alive.”

“What? No, he can’t be. The CIA’s messing with our heads.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I’m Russian. Need I say more?”

“They don’t know we’re working together.”

“You can’t be so naïve, Justin. You said it yourself that the CIA has eyes everywhere.”

“A figure of speech, Arkady, and I used it in a narrow context.”

“Regardless, I think this is a CIA trick. Did they give you the location of this surviving son?”

“No, they didn’t.”

“That strengthens my disbelief.”

“All right, but that’s not all.” Justin told him about the couple and the folded message he had received.

Arkady put a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “You’ll laugh at this, but what if they were CIA?”

“Arkady, c’mon.”

“No, it makes sense. If the CIA’s trying to derail us—”

“They’re not doing that. What’s their benefit if we don’t catch al-Nueimi?”

Arkady shrugged. “I don’t know. But if you’re sure the couple was not following you—”

“Then it could be anyone.”

Arkady frowned. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I can’t read minds, Arkady.”

“You’re thinking it was my agency.”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

Arkady exhaled. “Look, Justin, we’re working together. You tell me everything you know, and I do the same. Why would the SVR follow you?”

Justin did not say anything. He did not have an answer. He doubted the SVR or Arkady were telling the team everything. Justin was not sure if the SVR was keeping Arkady in the dark as well, or if it was his personal decision to keep things from Justin. So, he sighed, shrugged, then said, “You’re right. Whoever it was, we have to be even more careful.” His eyes almost instinctively examined the sidewalks, the street, and everything in the intersection ahead of them.

Arkady nodded. “Then we’re on stand-by until we hear from your boss.”

“Unless we find a clue to al-Nueimi’s whereabouts, we’re stuck in Sweden.”

Arkady looked around. “It’s not that bad. Ever been to Siberia in December?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Pleasure my frozen bal—”

“I get it, Arkady. It’s extremely cold out there.”

“At the very least, that’s an understatement.”

Justin shrugged. “I want to ask you about something I learned from Claudia.”

“Yes, what about her?” Arkady’s voice was calm, but there was a small twitch of his lip, at the left corner of his mouth.

Justin wondered if that was the tell sign Arkady was not being straightforward. “When she talked to you, the issue of al-Nueimi launching an attack on Russian troops in Syria came up.”

“Yes, it did.”

“That’s when the SVR became aware of al-Nueimi, right?”

“Yes, correct.”

“And he continued harassing your military?”

“He did, yes.”

“How many attacks were there?”

Arkady shrugged. “I don’t know the exact number. Four, five. It’s difficult to tell who’s fighting who in Syria. That country’s all messed up.”

All right, that confirms Claudia’s words. Al-Nueimi was involved in more than one attack on Russians. “Now tell me about the CIA op in Mosul.”

Arkady’s lip twitched again, more visibly this time. “What about it?”

“The SVR had some interest in that operation. Why?”

“I . . . I don’t know the details. I was tasked to find out whatever I could about the operation.”

“Was it to confirm whether al-Nueimi’s son was killed?”

Arkady cocked his head. “Justin, I don’t like your tone and your insinuation. I just told you I didn’t know the details.”

“Is it ‘don’t’ or ‘didn’t’? I mean, did you ever learn the objectives?”

Arkady hesitated for a moment. “Well, I pieced everything together after you told me about the CIA’s tale.”

“It’s not a tale.”

Arkady waved a dismissive hand in front of his face. “Whatever it was, Justin, it’s not relevant to our work, to this assignment.”

“Oh, but it is. If the SVR suspected al-Nueimi’s son was still alive, that means someone in your agency isn’t telling you the whole truth.”

Arkady gave Justin a blank stare. “Am I supposed to feel bad about that?”

“I . . . I’m not sure how you want to feel, but if I were you—”

“You think your boss tells you everything?”

“Yes, everything I need to know about the mission he has given me.”

“Well, they didn’t tell me, and I have no reason to believe they kept that information from me. If I didn’t get it, that’s because I didn’t need it at that time.”

Justin shook his head. The conversation was going nowhere. He sighed, then said, “Okay, so we’re back to where we started.”

Arkady shrugged. “We’ve hit a dead end for sure.”

Before Justin could reply, his phone rang. It was Carrie. “Yes, give me some good news.”

“Flavio came through.”

“He found the kid?” Justin could not contain the enthusiasm in his voice.

“The CIA reluctantly told him the location where he’s being held.”

“Where?”

“Jordan. A refugee camp.”

“That’s excellent news, Carrie. We’re heading back.”

“All right. See you in a bit.”

Justin ended the call. “The CIA’s giving us al-Nueimi’s son. I guess it wasn’t a trick.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Well, let’s go then.”