McDonald Array - Divide and Conquer

As he slept on his office sofa, Katherine sent a message to Surkov. There was no way she’d get him to Moscow.

The answer bounced back almost instantly. He didn’t care; she had to make it happen.

Governor Rick Brown had to visit Moscow.

The doorbell interrupted her train of thought, not that it was doing her any good.

She arrived at the door just as the courier was handing the package to another member of staff.

“I don’t know, it’s from Washington,” said the courier in answer to whatever question the other staff member had asked.

“I’ll take it,” demanded Katherine, taking the package noting the Russian embassy stamp.

She returned to the study and checking the governor was still asleep, she moved across to his desk and using the letter opener, sliced open the package. A number of documents were enclosed. The documents, passes and details of their trip to Moscow. The photo id for Nicole Brown fell on the desk, her beautiful eyes stared back at her lover and killer. Katherine turned the pass over. The next document detailed the latest itinerary. There had been a couple of minor changes but nothing of any real note. The final document was one she knew nothing about.

An emergency VISA in the name of Sean Fox. Expedited that day and already at the mansion. Katherine looked at the photo, handsome guy but she had no idea who he was or why all of a sudden he was in the party. As she read on, the VISA detailed him as a bodyguard and Katherine lost interest, probably just a replacement for some other State Department security guy.

“Nicole, is that you?” asked a weary sounding Rick Brown.

Katherine dropped the documents and rushed to remind the Governor of his wife’s death. It was bad enough telling him once, enough already. Her guilt and sympathy had waned. Katherine after all had a reputation to uphold, whatever she wanted and she wanted the Governor to go to Moscow.

Mike’s arrival back at Langley coincided with the first call in relation to Jane’s foray into cross agency co-operation. A very flustered Jane thrust the phone at Mike as he entered the office.

“Hello?” said Mike into the mouthpiece.

“Vincent, is that you?” screamed a voice. Mike looked at Jane as she scribbled 'FBI Director’ on a pad.

“I’m afraid there’s been a ter…” Jane hit his arm and scribbled I’ve not told anyone about heart attack.

Mike couldn’t believe it and had no idea what to do. “I’m sorry he’s not here at present,” he mumbled and promptly hung up.

“You realize we are totally fucked,” he concluded succinctly sitting on the end of Jane’s desk. The phone rang. They both looked at it and ignored it.

“We need Vincent!” they both concluded as one.

They both smiled. Vincent, they knew, would smooth things over. They just had to get through the rest of the day.

“Wait a minute,” thought Mike. “What have you told people about Vincent?”

“He’ll be back tomorrow and is out for the rest of the day!’ she said.

“But the air ambulance and being stretchered out?”

“We’re on the exec floor at the end of the corridor, there’s a chopper pad out that door,” she pointed half way down the hallway. “Most of the other execs are out today, nobody knows!”

“And if he’s not here tomorrow,” queried Mike intrigued how far ahead she had planned.

“Let’s not go there,” she suggested with a look of concern.

“He has had a heart attack!” exclaimed Mike.

“I know Vincent, he’ll be in here tomorrow,” she said taking $20 from her purse and slapping it on the desk.

Mike looked at the offer of the bet. “Are you mad? I’d be as well throwing my money out the window!” he smiled.

The phone rang again. They both looked at each other before grabbing their jackets and left the office and phones as they closed the door.

“Where to?” asked Mike.

“I’m going to Bethesda,” announced Jane.

Mike smiled knowingly.

Jane caught the smile. “Have to make sure the old goat’s here tomorrow to save our asses!”

Mike’s smile instantly disappeared. He hadn’t made any of the calls, what did she mean our asses!

As the day had progressed into the evening, Borodin’s mood had darkened. He began to fixate on the phone. Willing it to ring. Willing Pushkin to call and confirm that Sean Fox and his family had been dealt with. He hadn’t and they had not.

After four hours, he assumed the worst and after six hours stopped even looking at the phone. The added issue of the VISA played on his mind. How on earth was he going to explain that one to Surkov? Instead of eliminating the Sean Fox, he had in fact authorized his VISA to attend the state banquet. Not only that, he had authorized for him to be armed.

After nearly eight hours of no contact, he was about to head home. He buried his head in his hands as Vasiliy entered with another vodka. He had told Vasiliy he needed at least one every 30 minutes. Both had stayed on into the night, just in case. However, the chances of not receiving a call after a successful mission by this hour from at least one of the ten-man team was inconceivable. The mission had obviously failed.

Vasiliy laid the glass of vodka down tentatively and remained standing. Borodin looked up. The concern on Vasiliy’s face was not comforting.

“What?!” barked Borodin, grabbing the vodka and downing it in one gulp.

“Dr Surkov is on line 2!”

Borodin looked over at his phone and noted the flashing line and checked the time, it was almost 2 a.m. “Shit, what did you tell him?”

“That I’d see if I could locate you!”

Borodin considered being unlocatable but that would be delaying the inevitable.

He waved Vasiliy out and lifted the handset and, taking a deep breath for confidence, hit the flashing button.

“Dr Surkov!” he offered pleasantly.

“Ah General, I see your assistant managed to locate you, how fortunate!”

“How can I help you, Doctor, at this very late hour?” asked Borodin.

“Yes, it is rather late to still be in the office. You don’t have a crisis, do you?” asked Surkov suspiciously.

Borodin considered being upfront about the Spetznaz apparent failure but decided to see what Surkov knew.

“Not at all, just busy. How can I help you?”

“I have the president coming to Grebnevo in the morning, be here at 10 a.m.”

“Of course, Doctor,” replied Borodin smiling, things were finally happening.

As he replaced the handset, he realized for the briefest of moments that he had forgotten about Sean Fox. Something had to be done. His future was in jeopardy as soon as Surkov discovered his failure. Ten Spetznaz troops! How could they possibly fail? He had no assets on site, other than, he remembered, he had sent the assassin to deal with the SVR agents. He picked up the phone. There was still a chance Surkov would never know.

Surkov sat at his desk contemplating the conversation he had just had with Borodin. He had been trying his home number for some time, when on a whim he had tried the office. Borodin’s assistant had answered the phone as though his life depended on it. It was 2.00 a.m. in Moscow. What could be so important that Borodin was waiting for a call in the office? Surely they would call him at home. Unless they didn’t have his home number or were in another time zone, many hours behind. A time zone where a certain Sean Fox was a problem that Borodin should have dealt with. Or hadn’t he? A feeling of unease swept over him. The more he considered the call with Borodin, the more he realized something was wrong. Sean Fox, was he dead or not? Was he still an issue?

Surkov’s Sean Fox was an issue. The American one was not. But he had no idea which the live one was. When his Sean had escaped Grebnevo all those years ago, they thought he had died during the escape. He knew the plan intricately. He knew what they planned to do. He knew everything. He had also scoffed at the whole idea and laughed at how ridiculous Surkov was to believe it could even happen. He never believed in the ideology. He had embraced the American lifestyle too readily.