Page 90 of Spymaster

The Sirkeci railway station, once the terminus for the famed Orient Express, would be jammed with travelers returning to the city after a long weekend. Looking at a floor plan of the terminal, the cell leader discussed the best locations to plant their devices in order to maximize the damage.

As they went over the details of the operation, the cell leader studied them—their body language, facial expressions, tones of voice, and what they said. He searched for any indication that even just one of them was having second thoughts. There was no such indication. The operation was a go.

Carefully, they went through their final checks and packaged the devices. Most went into suitcases. Some went into backpacks.

Their target was the Marmaray subway platform beneath the train station, where the density of travelers would be the greatest.

At the appointed time, the men headed out in their separate directions. They would all be converging on the platform at the same time, but by different means—some via connecting trains, others on foot.

Oleg Tretyakov had wanted redundancy. If one of the bombers was delayed or captured, or his device failed to detonate, he wanted to make sure that there were multiple backups.

Each of the bombers had also been given deceptive pocket litter. If any of them were discovered by police and searched, evidence on their person would suggest a completely different target. This would put police into overdrive, and fritter away their resources as they rushed to a completely incorrect location, hoping to prevent any other bombers from striking.

At one point, Tretyakov had contemplated creating a cadre of red herrings—a separate cell of useful idiots, meant to get captured and completely cut off from the real bombers. He had abandoned the idea, though, as being too complex, and actually more likely to fail. There was also the very real prospect that even providing false clues could cause the entire city to go on high alert. Simple was better. So the members of the lone cell had been dispatched.

According to the plan, they would all converge at 4:58 p.m. Based on their traffic analysis, that gave them enough time to get in place, plant their devices, and leave just as they detonated.

Using the example of the train bombings in London and Madrid, the cell leader had taught them the importance of tradecraft, and what exactly to do, and not to do. They had practiced over and over again until everything was second nature. When word had come from Tretyakov that it was time to execute, the cell leader had every confidence his men were ready to go.

At two minutes before five o’clock, the polished, brightly lit subway system was packed. Men, women, and children were returning home from spending an afternoon or the weekend outside the city. It was an unusually pleasant day along the Bosporus. There had been plenty of sun and above-average temperatures.

Now, as the travellers trudged back to Istanbul, many carrying suitcases, backpacks, or messenger-style bags, their thoughts were on tomorrow and the start of the workweek. Very few were paying attention to what was going on around them.

Even fewer noticed the suitcases and backpacks that had been left along the crowded platform, or inside the packed train cars.

As the bombs detonated, they tore through everything—flesh, bone, steel, tile, and concrete.

Aboveground, buildings shook violently. Some thought it was an earthquake. Not until smoke began to billow out of the subway entrance did people begin to realize the horror of what had just happened.

CHAPTER 53

NEWYORKCITY

It was Sunday and the U.S. Mission to the United Nations was quiet. The offices were located in a building at First Avenue and Forty-fifth Street right across from the main UN building, which ran along the East River.

Ambassador Rebecca Strum received the three Baltic States Ambassadors in her private conference room. Her staff had catered a light brunch. Arrayed along the credenza was an assortment of pastries, meats, cheeses, fresh fruit, and quiche. There were also two large carafes of coffee—one regular, one decaf.

As the Ambassadors prepared their plates, they made small talk. Normally, this kind of talk was about the weather, what plays or exhibits they might have taken in over the weekend, or what new restaurants they had visited. This weekend, though, hadn’t been normal.

The Ambassadors had been in their respective offices working, practically around the clock. On Friday, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia had come under a variety of cyberattacks—more than the normal probes they were all used to. As the weekend had progressed, the efforts against their governments had escalated. The situation was so concerning that by Sunday morning they had requested an urgent meeting with the U.S. Ambassador.

Strum had her assistant usher all the aides out of the conference room and then closed the heavy wooden doors behind them. She wanted this conversation to be absolutely private.

An hour earlier a countersurveillance team had completed its sweep of the office and had deemed it clean. Picking up a special remote, she pressed a button that closed the heavy draperies, followed by another button, which activated the room’s countermeasures. Cell phones had been left outside the room as well. They were now secure and could chat at will.

Pouring coffee, they chose seats at the conference table and sat down. The Estonian Ambassador started things off. “Starting Friday, we saw a surge in attacks against our banking and health-care industries. We have several hospitals that have been locked out of their electronic medical records systems and an entire portion of southern Estonia where ATMs went offline.”

“The situation in Lithuania is similar,” said its Ambassador. “Though the focus has been on our energy resources. Rolling blackouts have been occurring in our major cities and multiple natural gas plants have been taken offline.”

The Latvian Ambassador spoke last. “While our cybersecurity experts have seen probes in all of these areas—especially in regard to newspapers and the websites of our political parties—our issue is less cyberwarfare and more information warfare. Friday afternoon, embarrassing information—I believe the Russians call itkompromat—was released about our President and an alleged affair from two years ago, with a member of Parliament. There was video, obviously shot in some hotel room, as well as still photos. The leakers are promising to release more tonight.

“Needless to say, this has been very damaging to their respective political parties, but it has also raised questions about the legitimacy of his election, as the woman resigned after it was learned her brother-in-law had been involved in vote tampering. That stain has now spread to our President.”

“I see,” mused Strum. “Is there any indication, other than the affair, that your President has done anything untoward?”

The Latvian Ambassador shook his head. “Not that I know of, but ever since the story broke, Riga has been in damage-control mode. They are very nervous, and the suggestion that there’s more to come is only fueling the scandal. If our election is seen as illegitimate, there will be a true crisis of confidence. The government is worried about the real possibility of street protests, maybe even violence.”

“In addition to a potential health crisis, with doctors and nurses locked out of medical records, we’re also concerned about a bank run,” the Estonian Ambassador said. “After Russia’s massive cyberattack in 2007 we promised our citizens that we would do everything we could to make sure it never happened again. If Russia keeps this up, we will also have a crisis of confidence.”

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