Chapter Thirty-two

 

 

Federal Security Service Headquarters, Moscow, Russia

December 5, 2:55 p.m.

 

The coffee was strong, hot, and bitter, the way Justin liked it. The woman who rolled in the food cart with two large stainless steel carafes called it “the KGB blend.” She was in her late forties or even early fifties, with curly blonde hair, an hourglass-shaped body, and long legs that stole glances just like when she was eighteen.

“Our interrogators preferred it for staying awake during the long nights,” she whispered as she brushed past Justin and strutted out of the large conference room.

They were on the fifth floor of the FSB headquarters’ east wing. Justin was sitting at the head of the long rectangular table holding a laser pointer in his hands. Carrie was on his right, fiddling with a laptop, and Bronislav was in the seat to his left. Around the table there were eight other men and a woman. Justin knew only Daniel, and Yuliya had introduced him to Marcus and the woman, Svetlana. The two were at the other end of the table, whispering to each other. The rest of his team were people assigned by Derzhavin. Yuliya had inquired about their backgrounds and previous missions and Justin had sent the names to McClain for a thorough search. Nothing suspicious had come up so far, and Justin doubted Derzhavin was going to offer him less than capable men for such a dangerous operation. But he had to remember that these agents’ loyalty rested with Derzhavin, and him alone.

The door opened and a young man with a timid look hurried in carrying a small white folder. “The most recent information from our man in Dagestan,” he muttered to Justin before handing him the folders.

“Thank you,” Justin said and dismissed the man with a head gesture.

He opened the folder and skimmed through the first page, then flipped through the rest of the documents. The folder contained copies of the same three-page report.

“Can you please pass this around?” Justin asked Carrie as he took two copies, one for himself and one for her.

“Let us get started, shall we?” Justin said in a strong, loud voice over the team members’ chatter. “This is the latest intel we’ve received from our local contact in D-stan. I’ll give everyone a chance to review it, but the essence is that our target is still in a well-protected house south of Buinosky. Our contact confirmed his location as of 1:00 p.m. today. He’ll update us if the target is on the move. Carrie, first slide.”

Carrie tapped the keyboard and used the remote control of a projector fastened to the ceiling. The faint hum of the projector filled the room as the blue, bright light blinded Justin. He stood up and moved to the left, next to a wooden stand. A moment later an aerial shot of the neighborhood where Kaziyev was holed up filled the entire screen.

“This is a satellite photo taken earlier this morning,” Justin said. He used the laser pointer to show a large house in the middle of the photograph. “It’s a three-story house with eight-foot-high walls, barbwire, and an electrical gate.” Justin continued as Carrie switched to another slide that showed the house painted in white and blue. “The houses next to it belong to ardent supporters or members of the IDM.” The red dot moved to the two houses to the left and the right.

There were some head nods around the table. The photographs were part of the package Derzhavin and Justin had provided to all the team members. Everyone had had a few hours to analyze the contents and brainstorm options for their operation.

“How many militants are protecting Kaziyev?” asked a large bearded man sitting across from Bronislav.

“The intel does not provide a specific number,” Justin replied. “Our best estimate given by the pictures, the location, the number of cars and trucks in the area, and previous clashes with the IDM is between fifty and a hundred. There could be more, of course, if we consider the wider area.”

Carrie switched to a wide-angle photograph of the neighborhood covering about eight blocks. There were about thirty houses and a mosque in the area, as well as two long buildings and an empty area next to them.

“What is that structure next to the mosque?” asked Svetlana. She flicked her raven hair over her shoulder and leaned over the table.

“It’s not very clear,” replied Justin, looking at her and then at Carrie. “I don’t think we have close-ups or other pictures of that, do we?” he asked Carrie.

“No, we don’t, but I was looking at other pictures from the package, of other parts of the city, and this seems to be an elementary school. That would be my best guess.”

Justin said, “As we have only twelve people, our sources are very, very limited. Sufficient for a well-coordinated strike, hit-and-run.”

More nods from around the table.

“This is my plan, open to suggestions and modifications to fit the evolving situation: We reach D-stan and the southern edge of B-sky. We hide our vehicles, and proceed to march on foot to the target’s neighborhood and reach this point.” Justin stopped and pointed with the red dot to an area that resembled a thicket by an open field and a meandering creek. “Then we split up into three groups to penetrate the neighborhood and make our way to the target’s hole. The late hour—since this should take place around 4:00 a.m.—the cover of darkness and snow, and our stealth should allow us to reach at least the first security perimeter without being noticed or with little gunfire. Carrie, can you go back to the first slide?”

A moment later the blown-up satellite image came back on the screen.

“Once we’ve secured positions around the target’s house in the south, east, and north, we’ll start our assault.” Justin punctuated his sentence by waving his hand and pointing at the specific locations, two or three houses away from Kaziyev’s hideout. He scanned the faces around the room and was met with either nods or thoughtful gazes. “We’ll raise hell to ferret him out of his hole. His guards will get clued in soon enough that there’s no gunfire coming from the west and will try to make their escape by pushing in that direction. Right here.” The laser dot marked the empty lot by the mosque.

Justin continued, “They will be exposed for ten, fifteen seconds as they curve around the field and the school. We’ll set up explosives along the dirt path and we’ll have a sharpshooter already positioned at the top of the minaret. Any questions so far?”

A hand shot up from the back of the room, then a male voice said, “Assuming we get to this first security perimeter undetected by Kaziyev’s militants, how do we know his guards will not charge in another direction, say the north?”

Justin squinted as he looked at the man’s worried face. He was clean-shaven and had a buzz cut, which made him look younger. He probably knew the impression he gave to people and, seemingly to counteract it, he had a dragon head tattooed along the left side of his neck.

“We’re counting on their reasonable action and survival instinct. We can argue the terrorists may not have the first, but they definitely have the second. If we have strong, concentrated firepower pouring forth from all three positions, in order to preserve their lives, the target and his guards will seek an escape route through the path of least resistance.

“And we’ll be in contact at all times, so if someone notices insurgents attempting an escape through any other route, we’ll adjust our moves accordingly.”

“What if we don’t make it to the first perimeter undetected?” asked a skinny man with a pockmarked face and close-cropped reddish hair. He shrugged at the end of his question and cocked his head to the right, seemingly seeking the support of the large bearded man.

“We cut our losses and decide, on the spot, to go forward or abort the mission,” Justin replied quickly before there were others mulling over a doomed start to their operation. “Look, I know this is an extremely difficult mission. I’d like to go in with heavy artillery, combat choppers, ten times as many people, surround these bastards and kill them all. But this is all we’ve got.” Justin spread his hands, pointing slowly at the men and women in the room. “And we’ll make it work.”

“I’d like to volunteer as the sniper in the mosque,” Bronislav said in a firm voice. “You guys herd that son of a bitch my way and I’ll nail that turban into his head with one of these.” He tapped the conference table with a 9x39mm cartridge for his sniper rifle.

“And I’ll set up the explosive char . . . charges,” said the skinny man. He tried to make his voice sound resolved but the attempt was not quite successful.

“Great. Other questions?”

A couple of moments of tense silence, and then three or four of Derzhavin’s people were mumbling among themselves. Justin suppressed the urge to call them out and ask them to share their thoughts with the rest of the team. If it’s important enough, they’ll bring it up. No need to ruffle feathers.

“All right, then I’ll be in the north strike team with you and Svetlana,” Justin said as he pointed to the man sitting next to her, a tall, broad-shouldered fellow with long dark hair and a small goatee. “The south team will have Marcus and the three of you, under the command of Timofey.” Justin pointed at the bearded man, who accepted his charge with a barely noticeable nod and a small grin. “The east team is made up of Daniel and the last two Alpha Group members. Everyone clear to their tasks?”

A lot of nods and “yesses” came from around the table.

“Then we’re done here. Pick up your gear and show up at the meeting point at twenty-one hundred. Dismissed.”

Carrie leaned over Justin’s shoulder as people began to file out of the conference room. She waited until Bronislav had made his way to the end of the room and begun talking to Marcus. “You didn’t tell them about the creek and the bridge?” she whispered in his ear.

Justin shook his head. “They don’t need to know that part. Not at this moment. What do you think of the plan?”

Carrie smiled. “Well, since we came up with it together, I think it’s pretty solid. But then, things rarely go according to plan.”

“I know, and I’m worried about how far we can go before all hell breaks loose. Perhaps this time I’m being too stubborn, wanting to get my way.”

Carrie laughed. “You’re always stubborn and wanting to get your way. This is a good chance to get rid of Kaziyev, and you have assembled a great team. I’m confident you’ll get your man even without me holding your hand.”

Justin smiled. “When’s your flight?”

Carrie glanced at her wristwatch. “At four, so I’ve got to leave right away.”

“I’ll walk you out and hail you a cab,” Justin said and they both got up.