Chapter Fifteen

 

 

 

Kate read the lab report that was displayed on her computer screen but wasn’t surprised. She expected as much.

The shell casing she had picked up off the floor that night in Oliver’s home was from a Chinese-made QSZ-92 pistol, the most recent product of Chinese arms factories. It was either a very good plant to lead her in the wrong direction or another piece of circumstantial evidence that lead her down the road to Beijing. The shooter himself she would have called definitely oriental and most likely Chinese. She had a good look at him while they were in the bar at the old sugar mill.

This was one piece of evidence.

She had more, much more.

Kate had a Top Secret security clearance. However, she was cleared several layers higher than that on a need-to-know basis for her current position. This was an SCI authorization, or Sensitive Compartmental Information. Per this access, she had available to her the most sensitive data the National Security Agency, or NSA, could collect via their sophisticated electronic eavesdropping capabilities.

As she scanned the data on her secure connection in her hotel room in Nassau, more strands of the conspiracy began to come to light.
Before and after the initiation of hostilities in the Persian Gulf, there was a marked increase in intelligence chatter between the Iranian, Chinese, and Russian diplomatic apparatus. They had caught them red-handed.

Why hadn’t anyone else put this information together? The Chinese and the Russians had for years been making overt statements about removing the United States from its position of dominance on the world stage. The Chinese had manipulated their currency to swell their trade imbalance. By keeping their currency value artificially low, they created an artificially low price for Chinese goods in their export markets around the world. This in turn created massive currency reserves primarily in USD.

They also pushed a global mercantilist agenda and bought influence around the world. The recent cash disbursement to the Bahamas was just one example.

Billions of dollars had been loaned or granted to multiple Caribbean nations for infrastructure development. Jamaica, Bahamas, Dominican Republic, and Barbados were the main recipients. Sports facilities, refineries, roads, bridges, et cetera had all been funded. Economic growth was anemic in these regions, as they relied primarily on tourism to fund their economies. This was lacking since the long-term downturn began almost a decade before. The Chinese had stepped in to fill the void.

They also were pushing for access to commodities and raw materials globally. Africa was in the forefront here. In fact, many of the indigenous African people had become wary of Chinese bringing money. They complained of labor abuse and exploitation and strong-arm tactics in negotiations. Raw materials and energy were especially targeted for influence. Farm land, rare earth minerals, petroleum reserves, et cetera were bought and paid for.

The Bahamas was a large benefactor of Chinese largess. Hundreds of millions in loans were issued and forgiven. The Caribbean was a very strategic area with its plethora of ports near the United States. Now the Chinese were taking action in concert with other world players that wished the United States harm.

The United States was at war with the world. The president needed to know this. It was time. She picked up the secure phone and called the White House.

 

 

 

The Caribbean

 

 

The British Empire literally ruled the world. Or at least they used to. Connor was amazed at how much their presence was still felt throughout the globe. The economic reach they sustained for centuries was incredible. Australia, the Americas, Africa, India, Hong Kong, and of course the Caribbean all felt the English legacy.

Connor stood on the deck surrounding the pool overlooking Kingston, Jamaica. The hotel was located atop one of the nearby famous Blue Mountains. The view was breathtaking. The sun was setting over the harbor, and the lights of the sprawling city began to twinkle. It’s so beautiful, he thought to himself.

He had arrived that morning to meet with several clients in Kingston. That part of a trip to Jamaica was always unpleasant. The city was like a war zone. Gang warfare was common and the streets were very dangerous. Truckloads of armed soldiers were frequently seen driving from place to place. Many times they hit up the taxi drivers for bribes when they saw them with a foreign fare. Trash littered the streets in front of the decaying buildings.

There were pockets of modern living. A few nice hotels existed. The financial buildings were typically professional, as were the businessmen and women.

It was not a pleasant job to sit in the rear of the hired car and be driven swiftly from place to place. Going from meeting to meeting and being worried about being mugged was not his strong suit.

That was the emerging market business. It was the same in Venezuela, Trinidad, and other parts of Latin America. It came with the job.

Connor was always struck by the natural abundance of Jamaica. The bananas, coffee, and tourism were always big revenue producers for the country. In addition, the land itself was one huge piece of bauxite sticking out of the Caribbean Sea. Bauxite was one of the main ingredients of aluminum.

However, the left of center governments could never seem to create the right conditions to exploit this advantage. Their cost of production was thirty percent higher than the competition, so they were unprofitable in the international market.

A shame, thought Connor.

The English influence was unmistakable, however, during his travels. The language was an obvious giveaway. Jamaica, although ruled by the French as well for a time, was built on the English model. The population mainly descended from slaves imported to man the sugar plantations and from their English masters. Throughout the Caribbean, cricket was the national sport, as in the Bahamas. The passion for the game was just as high here.

Many islands in the Caribbean still had the Queen’s imprint on their currency. The main connection, however, which Connor saw on a daily basis, was financial. The primary financial centers of the world were English based: Cayman, London, New York, Hong Kong.

However, he also saw that this was changing. There was a new sheriff in town, the Chinese. Economic power was definitely moving East, where it was centuries before.

The Chinese, flush with their trillions in foreign currency reserves and holding the economic reigns of America with their trillions in U.S. Dollar debt, were now spreading their influence throughout the globe.

He was well aware that for years they were buying access to natural resources across the world. Oil in Latin America, strategic minerals in Africa, and access to ports in the Caribbean were acquired. This was done in full view of several U.S. administrations, who were too busy worried about making their banker angry than to deal with the obvious threats to national security.

Now their chief aim was to supplant the United States Dollar with the Chinese Yuan as the new global reserve currency. They no longer were so helplessly linked to the U.S. consumer market. Their middle class was growing exponentially. They were creating their own domestic market. The United States had lost its influence.

This was obvious to Connor and to most people in the financial business. There was more and more bond issuance in yuan than in dollars. The Russians and the Chinese were conducting most of their international trade in their own currencies rather than the historical USD standard for several years now.

The response of the United States to all of these issues was disheartening. The administration was pursuing a policy of devaluing the currency to deal with their external debt problem. No country had ever successfully followed this course and come out ahead economically.

Many a banana republic had tried─Zimbabwe, Argentina, and others─but the process didn’t work. It always led to inflation, loss of economic power, and a lower standard of living for its citizens. A nation can’t devalue its way to prosperity.

Connor mused on all of this as he smoked a nice Jamaican cigar. One of life’s small pleasures, he thought.

The recent hostilities in the Persian Gulf would add even more economic pressure to the United States. They could not afford to prosecute another very expensive war.

We can’t borrow the money, he pondered.

Interest rates had already risen dramatically, which greatly increased the cost of servicing all of this debt. The value of the United States currency was plummeting.

The financial crisis for America was entering a final stage.

After all, Connor thought, it’s what spelled the end for the British Empire. They just could not afford the fight with the Nazis. They could not afford to maintain their empire. It just crumbled. History repeats itself, he mused.

 

 

Kate got off the spanking brand new Aeroflot Boeing jet and walked into Moscow’s Sheremetyevo airport. It was a sparkling new facility, built to ease the crowding of the city’s older airport, Domodedovo, located across town. The nouveau riche Russian money was very much on display. Packed duty-free shops lined the corridors. The locals were flush with cash. Beautiful girls dressed to the nines were everywhere.

Wow, how much has changed in the last decade, she said to herself as she remembered her time here years ago. Then, there was a palpable sense of doom in the air, no longer. The one thing the government had provided was economic success, at least in the cities. People did not have political freedom, but they very much had opportunity, to a certain degree. That is if you knew the right people.

She made her way to passport control. It was always a tense moment, she recalled. The harsh looks and the stare down were standard. It was an automatic Russian response to foreigners, especially Americans. She wondered if her cover was blown and she would be targeted for surveillance, or even if she would be let in the country.

She seemed to pass through immigration easy enough. Who knows? she thought.

She waited forever at baggage claim. I have traveled to many airports in many different countries, and the luggage always is late, she said to herself. She waited for an eternity.

I knew I shouldn’t have checked my bag.

Finally the baggage arrived and she poured herself into a taxi and barked in Russian for the driver to take her to the Moscow Hilton.

Kate was fluent. She had studied the language all through college and then immersed herself in the culture when she lived in Moscow. Although it had been a while, it came back naturally and easily. She rather enjoyed speaking it again.

The drive to the hotel was uneventful. What struck her was the continuity of Moscow. Yes, the signs on the shops were more vibrant. The cars on the road were nicer and much more expensive. But the buildings were for the most part the same Stalinist Soviet-designed housing blocks that had existed for decades. In spite of a new section of the city sporting new skyscrapers, it was as if the Russians could not escape the past. That thought was even more pungent as she thought of what was going on with the conflicts globally. The Russian Machiavellian instinct again showed itself.

She could not help but think that if there had been a more concerted effort at democracy after the fall of the Soviet Union, maybe things would have turned out differently. However, the complexes of the Russian leadership had prevented that. She hardly thought the Russian people were anti-American. “You are just like us!” many of them had told her. She could hear the surprise in their voices, once they had gotten to know her. They were, however, routinely whipped into an anti-American fervor by the frequent government television shows that demonized America. If one listened to this propaganda, one would think the United States was behind every sneaky plot ever imagined and then some.

Kate firmly believed in engaging people of different cultures. The more you get to know each other, the harder it is to hate each other, she thought.

She arrived at the hotel.

The Moscow Hilton was housed in one of seven towers that Stalin built in the early twentieth century to ostensibly highlight Soviet prowess in architecture. The real truth was that Stalin feared being ridiculed by Westerners upon their arrival in Moscow. “You have no skyscrapers!” he could hear them say. So Stalin demanded Moscow grow its skyline.

Complexes again, she thought.

Eight were designed but only seven built. Chronically overengineered, they were too heavy, and many of the floors were unusable. However, they were beautiful. “The Seven Sisters,” Westerners called them.

The tower encompassing the hotel was one of the smaller structures. The other larger sister buildings, boasted Moscow University, government buildings and other hotels. The university today was still the tallest building used solely for education in the world.

The Moscow Hilton had reopened several years ago after an extensive renovation. The floors were lined with exquisite marble. The ceilings were adorned with ornate carvings and art. It was quite remarkable.

After checking in and refreshing herself in her room, she had a drink in the lounge in the lobby of the hotel. She wanted to reorient herself with Russian society before meeting her contact later in the evening. She noticed the stares of the businessmen in the bar. They peeked over their laptops or glanced her way occasionally while talking with their business partners or colleagues to get a look at her. She was obviously a Western girl by the way she dressed and held herself. This created a quandary for them. She was attractive, they thought, but should they approach her? She smiled to herself.

Soon her nerves were calm and she looked at her phone. It was time to go, before she was hit on by the gangster-looking guy across the bar, who was staring at her. She paid the bill and made her way to the exit to flag a taxi. One was waiting and she hopped in.

“Tverskaya Street,” she directed.

 

The taxi let her out at her direction along the main thoroughfare in Moscow. It was a hot summer day. The Moscow street dust made the heat feel much worse. The cars were coated in the dark brown grime.

Tverskaya Street was in medieval times the connection between the rival cities of Moscow and Tver. Friends at times and enemies at others, the populations over the centuries grew together. Now even many Russians did not know the medieval history of the thoroughfare.

In the United States, old was a few hundred years. Here a few hundred years was a blink of an eye.

Moscow was a dirty city. She had forgotten how much so. She could always tell which Russians had money─they drove the clean cars. They could pay someone to wash their vehicle daily. They also drove like crazy. Traffic laws were not to be obeyed. Many pedestrians were routinely struck and killed traversing the four-lane thoroughfares on the painted crosswalks. Motorists simply didn’t slow down. Once the pedestrian walked to the third or fourth lane, they were sitting ducks for the speeding traffic.

If someone was unlucky enough to be pulled over by a policeman, a quick slip of a few thousand rubles took care of any problems.

Wealth was on display everywhere in Moscow. The rich could buy a blue police flashing light to place on top of their car. This gave them the ability to bypass all traffic rules and drive as if they were a cop getting to the scene of an accident. They could be seen all over the roads in the city. They infuriated the “little people” who could not afford such things. One enterprising young Muscovite, sick of the double standard, painted a plastic cup blue and mounted it to the top of his car. He enjoyed disobeying traffic laws for several weeks until he was arrested.

 

Kate began to walk along the sidewalk. The massive, palatial mansions coexisted with the modernistic shopping areas in harmony. Many of the historical buildings were destroyed during the revolutionary era, replaced by Stalinist apartment blocks. However, one could feel the age of this place.

She continued walking as with no purpose. Anyone watching her would not know she was waiting for someone. At the last second, she turned and entered an upscale clothing store located on the first floor on the street. She briskly walked through the store and to the rear entrance through the stockroom. She exited into the alleyway behind. There was a darkened sedan waiting. The door opened. She got into the backseat.

“Hello, Kate,” said the older Russian man sitting in the backseat. He was handsomely dressed and obviously a man of some stature in life.

“Hello, Vladimir.”

“Drive,” said the man. The car pulled out swiftly from the alley and disappeared into the traffic.

Kate had developed many relationships during her time previously in Moscow. This man was a source high up in government and inside the Kremlin. He was known to the West as an ally of sorts. He was patriotic but did not like the direction his country was moving. He was a supporter of democracy and open government. Things were not going his way, in fact in the other direction. So he had agreed to meet with Kate.

He did not mince words and could not give her much time.

“My government is involved in a plot to reduce the power and influence of the United States globally. We are allied with other powers, primarily the Chinese and Iranians. We ourselves have been arming the Iranians with advanced air defense weaponry in addition to covertly fostering their nuclear program. Our goal is to accomplish what we want primarily through economic means, although there are bound to be a few skirmishes here or there, as you have already seen.”

“Tell me why,” Kate asked in a firm manner.

“You Americans, in our government’s view, have not respected our sphere of influence and have not realized the deep complexes our leaders have regarding the West. You have brought troops to our southern doorstep as well as supported democratic governments in our former territories. We want our sphere back. It’s that simple. And the Chinese want Asia, and the Iranians want to control the Middle East. Your government must know all of this already.”

Kate looked out the window of the vehicle and thought for a moment. She could tell the sun was beginning to set, even through the darkened glass. It was time to leave. She turned back to Vladimir.

“Thank you for the information. It has been most helpful,” she replied.

“Do not contact me again,” he added. “I have risked too much already.”

The car pulled to the side of the road, and she stepped out into the hot air.

 

After exiting the vehicle, Kate casually made her way north along Tverskaya Street. She had another appointment that was set up for her. The sun was beginning to set but she had plenty of time. In fact, she had time to kill. So she walked slowly, taking in the sights.

The night was starting to come alive. Moscow was a very young city. Youth from all over the Russian Federation came to Moscow to try to find a new life, a life outside of the villages. Lots of well-dressed, beautiful young boys and girls walked the streets, the girls usually in their high heels, the boys in their Italian suits.

She enjoyed the evening air as she contemplated her recent conversation. It was good to see Vladimir again.

Eventually, she arrived at Pushkinskaya Metro Station and descended into the underground cavern. It was just as she remembered it.

Moscow had some of the most beautiful metro stations in the world. The architecture was simply stunning. Travelers from New York or other cities in the United States marveled at the style and the cleanliness of the subway in Moscow. In New York, the stations were dirty, run-down, and falling apart in some places. They were downright dangerous. Not in Moscow. Here they were architectural masterpieces.

Pushkinskaya station was designed with substantial white marble columns supporting a vaulted ceiling channeling nineteenth-century style. Grand chandeliers with lights made to look like candles lined the train platform overhead. The look was magnificent.

The station had been one of Kate’s favorite places during her previous stay in Moscow and she enjoyed being back. Architecture was one of her passions.

She boarded the next train and really did not care where it went. Her appointment was not for some time, so she watched the people enter and exit.

At the next stop, she noticed an older woman drop off two small children on the subway car and then leave. The doors closed and the train left the station. One of the little girls was older, maybe nine years of age. A smaller girl lay in her lap, sleeping. She could not have been more than four. They both obviously were very tired and went right to sleep.

The protective part of Kate kept an eye on them. She couldn’t understand how a mother could just leave such small children by themselves. Several stops later, the older girl woke up and shook the smaller child awake. They left the car and made their way to the stairway alone and disappeared. Strange, thought Kate. I guess people here are doing what they can to survive as well. The oligarchs have all the wealth while the average person struggles.

She switched trains several times in the next two hours to make sure she was not being followed. When she was satisfied, she took the appropriate train to Teatralnaya Station near Red Square in the theatre district.

Another masterpiece, again marble walls with ornate stone carvings lining the vaulted ceiling overhead. An art deco checkerboard floor completed the look. Beautiful, she marveled.

The sun was gone when she exited the station. There was a crowd of people on the train dressed to see the ballet at the Bolshoi Theatre, which was close by.

The Bolshoi was not Kate’s destination.

She went in a different direction and ended up at the Central Universal Magazine, or TSUM, another work of art. It was a massive, palatial shopping mall designed centuries before. It carried all of the toniest brands. Muscovites could buy anything they wanted there, from a designer watch to a small gift for a friend.

Kate made her way to the women’s area of one of the clothing stores and after milling about the floor for a few minutes selected a few things to try on, checked her watch, and headed for the dressing room.

The store was not busy at this time of the day and the dressing rooms were almost empty. She selected the stall farthest to the rear of the space, closed the door, and sat down to wait.

Fifteen minutes later, she heard the door of the stall next to her open and close. Clothes were hung on the wall. Kate didn’t say anything for a while. The walls of the stalls were just louvered slats and very easy to hear through.

Finally, she spoke. “Hello, Natasha.”

“Privyet, Katarina,” the person next to her responded in a thick Russian accent. It was a woman in her late twenties. “It’s been a long time,” the girl added in fluent English.

“Yes it has. It’s good to hear your voice again. I have missed you,” said Kate with genuine emotion.

“Things are much different now for me than when we knew each other.”

“So I am told. Are you here spending his money?”

“Of course!” “Wouldn’t you?”

“I’m sure I would,” responded Kate. “When this is all over, let’s spend some time together.”

“I would like that. I am not allowed now to have many close friends. Especially American agents,” she said sarcastically.

“Well let’s get down to business,” declared Kate. “Do you have any more for us on the Iranian issue?”

“Russia has been arming them. That, I have heard him say. We are not the only country involved. There are others helping us. I am sure your government knows who they are. These are very dangerous times. He means to harm your currency’s value. He means to harm your economy with help from these other countries. You must be very careful. However, he has a weakness. He is very worried about the pipelines. I must go now.”

“Of course. I will see you soon, my friend. Buy something expensive for me, will you?” quipped Kate.

“I will my love. Dasvidania.”

The door opened and the Natasha left. Kate waited another ten minutes and then left the store and headed back toward Teatralnaya Station.

The trip back to the Bahamas was long, too long. The layover in New York was extremely frustrating. She was tired of airports.

She had communicated her discoveries to the White House National Security team. She did this immediately upon returning to her hotel room over secure satellite link. They did not seem surprised. Mainly, the information was confirmation of what they already believed and it was good to hear the same information from multiple sources.

She had spoken to the president via secure cell phone as well before leaving Russia. When he was briefed on the results of her trip, he asked to speak with her. He was concerned. She laughed it off. Kate was in that phase of youth where she felt invincible, immortal it seemed. She was making significant progress developing intelligence on her country’s enemies, and it felt good. Her work in Russia now over, she prepared to make her way back to the Moscow airport.

 

Kate arrived at the science institute compound late at night on Eleuthera. She was exhausted. She had flown direct into JFK from Moscow and then the direct flight to Nassau, fifteen hours of traveling. The flight from Nassau to Governor’s Harbor in Eleuthera was delayed.

“If you have time to spare, fly Bahamas Air,” she laughed to herself.

Traveling for that long always gave her a feeling of being wired. She could not relax and definitely couldn’t sleep. Not anytime soon anyway.

I’m young, I can handle it, she thought.

She felt better now that the White House was informed of her discussions with her contacts. However, there was still the issue of Connor. She loved him, and that love for him must take her out of his life. Things were too dangerous. He had already lost one love. The thought of not being with him again broke her heart. Connor also was becoming a source for the investigation as well. She could not have further intimate involvement with him. She had risked too much already. He had picked up many pieces of evidence of foreign interference with U.S. national security affairs. She told the president as much.

“It’s for the best. I know it,” she said to herself.

She thought about calling him but decided against it. Just as she thought of Connor, she received another secure call. She was ordered back to Washington for debriefing. Well at least it’s in the morning, she thought. She set her alarm clock, lay down on the bed fully clothed, and drifted off to sleep.

Kate arrived at the new airport in Nassau early the next morning on her way to Washington. The Bahamas made a big effort recently to bring its infrastructure into the twenty-first century. The shiny new airport was evidence of that. Long gone were the gum-stained floors, congested terminal, and limited parking that were the hallmarks of the old facility.

She needed to meet face to face with her superiors, as the investigation was spinning out of control. Maybe a better way to put it was that it was moving above her pay grade. She was sure of herself; it was time to play her ace in the hole after all.

The taxi pulled up to the departure terminal, and she exited and tipped the driver. The taxi sped away. The warm Bahamian breeze was comforting.

She walked up to the Delta ticket counter, and lucky for her, she was early enough and there was not a line.

“Thank God,” she muttered as she fished for her passport. Many a day previously she had waited an hour or more to get checked in.

The agent was unusually helpful, as she got her ticket quickly. She then started to haul her bag to customs for the flight into the United States.

The Bahamas was one of the jurisdictions that actually checked passengers through customs into the U.S. while still in-country. That made it easier as they entered the U.S. Passengers could just walk off the plane and blend into the mass of humanity, not having to go through immigration domestically.

She did encounter a line in customs, however, and prepared herself to wait. Her mind began to drift to Connor and their recent time together. It was magical. She was so confused. She had definitely fallen in love with him. How would she keep this from her chain of command? How would she end it? It was unethical and unprofessional, but it had happened. She would have to find a way to deal with the situation.

The line moved forward.

“Miss,” a stern voice behind her said, startling her. “Are you Kate O’Malley?”

“Yes I am, why?”

“Ma’am, please come with us,” the husky security officer said as he firmly grasped her arm.

She initially resisted but then relented and was led away from the customs security line and across the check-in terminal. The officer pulled her through a narrow corridor, and they opened up into a long conference room, where several Bahamian officials were waiting. She was pushed into a waiting chair facing the other occupants of the room.

“Why are you in the Bahamas?” the large, uniformed man asked after a brief moment of silence.

“I’m here conducting research,” she proclaimed. “I am sure you know that. What is this about?” She was getting angry.

“We don’t believe you,” responded an older, plump woman, also uniformed.

“I don’t care what you believe.” She dared not blow her cover, even in this situation.

“We think you have been stealing jobs from Bahamians!” the woman blurted.

Kate couldn’t help but laugh.

“You do, huh? What job was that exactly? I was hired by the scientific institute to come here and conduct research. How is that stealing jobs from the local population?”

“We don’t believe you,” the large man said. “You are hereby placed under arrest.”

Two of the officers in the room then moved forward rapidly and forcibly held her in her seat while a third cuffed her and then pulled her by the shoulders and stood her up. She couldn’t move.

A door opened across the room and another police officer held it open. The hot, Bahamian air billowed into the air-conditioned space. She was led out onto the airport tarmac. A small passenger jet was waiting with engines turning. She was pushed toward the plane.

“Where are you taking me!” she demanded. She met blank stares. “I demand to speak to the U.S. embassy!”

There was no response.

An Asian man came to the open door of the aircraft. She saw the corners of the mouth of one of the guards curl up into a small smile. Then she was really afraid.

Kate was pushed onto the aircraft, which promptly taxied to the main runway for an immediate takeoff.