Tom Clancy - Command Authority

Jack said, “How ’bout we bring in someone from outside to go over it? Someone who was active back then. Someone who knew the Soviet Union. The players, the bureaucracy. The times.”

“You have anyone in mind?”

“What about Ed? Do you think he’d be interested?”

“Are you kidding? He’d jump at the chance.”

“Great. We can get him some office space next door in the OEOB.” The Old Executive Office Building was maintained by White House Office of Administration, and it contained many offices used by White House personnel. “He can go through the paperwork on the case, see if he can find anything that would either tie Talanov to Zenith or rule him out.”

Foley stood to leave. “If you don’t mind me saying so, this sounds personal.”

“You’re right, it is. That event was very personal to me at the time. But this is more than that. We all admit we know so little about the second-most-powerful man in Russia. If he was, in fact, an active KGB assassin thirty years ago, that is damn well germane to the present. And if this turns up nothing at all, then at least we know we gave it a look.”

Mary Pat said, “I’ll call Ed as soon as I get back to my office.”

Chief of CIA Station Keith Bixby had spent the morning in meetings in the U.S. embassy, and now, just after lunch, he had begun a surveillance detection run that would take him into the midafternoon. He had a meeting at four with an Italian businessman who owned a small trucking company that smuggled contraband back and forth from Russia.

As chief of station, Bixby found it a little unusual to be having clandestine meetings with agents, but this was nothing if not an unusual situation. Every warm body on Bixby’s staff was working, either here in Kiev or in other parts of Ukraine. He also had nonofficial cover operatives working in country, but right now most of the NOCs were off near the Russian border and in the Crimean peninsula, trying to get intelligence about the Russians and their intentions.

Kiev Station did not have the number of personnel Bixby needed, but this was not due to the fact it was some far-flung outpost forgotten by the CIA. The problem was, rather, that most every Russian- or Ukrainian-speaking case officer was already employed in Russia or Ukraine, and the CIA could not crank out Ukrainian-speaking case officers fast enough to meet the intense demand.

As the drums of war beat louder and louder, Bixby took on more and more responsibility to help his office keep up with the workload. This meant he had to leave the embassy himself, and travel the streets on long SDRs, and meet the occasional bad person over a bad meal. This Italian smuggler wasn’t terribly important, especially considering how the Russians looked like they would be attacking soon enough, but he did provide intel, so Bixby decided he’d meet with him.

The COS was only twenty minutes into his SDR and had just stopped at a bus stop in front of the massive and magnificent Cathedral of Saint Volodymyr when a man approached him and stood close. The man wore a coat with the hood up, and a scarf was wrapped over his mouth.

The CIA station chief looked the hooded man over. Suspicion was an occupational hazard, but it could also prove to be a lifesaver for someone in his position.

The man lowered his scarf. “I’m John Clark. We spoke last week.”

Bixby looked over Clark’s face, and he recognized him from the one or two pictures he’d seen of the old CIA legend. Still, he remained on guard. “I’m not sure how you could have misconstrued anything in our conversation as an invitation.”

Clark chuckled. “No, of course not.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

“I just thought I’d pop over for the borscht.”

Bixby’s eyes flitted left and right. “Why don’t you come back to my office so we can talk?”

“Actually,” said Clark, “I’d prefer to keep this between the two of us.”

Bixby thought it over for a moment. “All right, then. We’ll need to keep moving. Let’s go for a walk.”

Clark followed Bixby up Taras Shevchenko Boulevard for a few blocks, and then into the Alexander Fomin Botanical Garden, next to the university.

Here the two men walked along a wide path between trees that were not yet showing any life after the long winter. The blustery weather, as well as the fact it was a workday, meant there were very few visitors walking the pathways. Still, Clark wasn’t comfortable with the location. He spoke softly. “Not exactly secure here. I assume the local opposition knows your job at the embassy.”

Bixby, on the other hand, was relaxed. “We’re fine.”

Clark looked around. It looked peaceful, but he had no idea who or what was out in the trees. “Directional mikes?”

The younger CIA man said, “No doubt about it.”

“Then why are we here?”

“The thing about the FSB is this. They are everywhere, but they aren’t superhuman. We’ve determined it takes them a good ten minutes or so to set up any type of surveillance. Right now there are probably four guys scrambling out of a van up by the metro station ahead, pulling mikes and walkie-talkies out of bags, trying to get into position ahead of us. I always try to get the important parts of our conversations out of the way quickly, so that by the time the listeners are in place we’re out of here.”

“Okay,” Clark said, and he pulled his hood forward to further hide his face from any cameras that might try to catch him meeting with the local CIA station chief.

Bixby said, “First things first. Tell me why you are in Kiev.”

“I’m a concerned citizen who thought he might be able to help out.”

“I hesitate to say this, Clark, because you’re an American hero and all. But that’s a load of horseshit.”

Clark chuckled. He liked this guy. “I am worried about Gleb the Scar. When we spoke the other day, I got the impression you didn’t have enough to go on to check this guy out the way he needed to be checked out.”

“That’s true. I’ve got FSB running all over the place. A new personality from Russian organized crime operating in the city is interesting, but at this point it’s not actionable, especially with a war looming.”

“I thought perhaps I could help.”

“Help how ?”

“I’ve got a friend or two over here. I speak Russian. I retain TS clearance, and I follow orders.” He shrugged. “This isn’t exactly my first time out of the block.”

“I can’t take responsibility for you, Clark.”

“Not asking you to. I’m not asking for classified intel, either. I’m just asking for your blessing, and an open channel so I can get anything important back to you.”

“You know, I’ve heard of walk-in agents, but I’ve never heard of a walk-in case officer.”

Clark wasn’t making the headway he’d hoped. He changed the subject. “What’s going on down in the Crimea? Is the Ukrainian military ready for a Russian invasion?”

Bixby shrugged. “I can only give you an unclassified answer. I know you retain clearance, but I haven’t figured out what the fuck your deal is yet.”

“Hey, like I said, I’m not asking for anything sensitive. I’m just an American tourist thinking of going on holiday in Odessa.”

Bixby shook his head. “Okay. Well… I would suggest you go to Maui, instead. Maybe you could get a senior discount on a hotel room there. Crimea is going to blow up soon. The Russians are ready to invade, just looking for an excuse. The Ukrainians are moving troops into the region to dispel them—that’s in the local news, so I’m not giving you anything TS there—and it’s as likely as not the Russians will use the Ukrainians’ movements as a provocation for them to go in.”