“Holy hell, Thomas. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, I just said it would probably get me fired. Of course I’ll help. I just need to get some things in order so that whoever replaces me can hit the ground running. When do you need this done?”
Stansfield smiled. Men like Fay were the reason his cohort had been labeled the Greatest Generation. “Immediately would be great.”
“Then you’d better buckle up. This flight’s about to get bumpy.”
CHAPTER 49
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
SORRYI’m late,” Irene said, shutting the yellow submarine’s door. “The ambassador was running behind.”
A series of guarded looks were exchanged between the six men and four women gathered around the yellow submarine’s simple conference table. Irene was no mind reader, but she’d spent enough time running agents to be able to make a pretty educated guess at what her fellow case officers were feeling.
Relief.
“How did it go with the ambassador?”
The question came from a man seated to her right. Irene matched his angular face with the picture in the personnel files she’d hurriedly reviewed on the flight over. “It’s Jason, right?”
“Yes, sorry. Jason Bailey. I’ve been at Moscow Station the longest, so I have the most experience weathering the ambassador’s storms.”
Irene frowned at his choice of words. She found it interesting that Jason touted his experience with regard to the ambassador rather than his familiarity with the Russians that the CIA officers were here to target.“Yes, well, while I appreciate that, I’m not concerned about the ambassador.”
Another flurry of looks. Irene watched dispassionately, genuinely curious who would step into the breach next. She caught Elysia’s eye, and the pretty brunette gave her a half smile. Something that more resembled an apology than encouragement.
How had this station drifted so far off course?
“Um, just to be clear, I’m assuming we’re no longer pursuing the volunteer from the note, correct? The Russian staff officer?”
Jason again. Irene wasn’t sure if he was the group’s spokesman because of his seniority or because he was the chief pot stirrer. Either way, she intended to keep him close.
“Why would you think that?” Irene said.
She’d debated asking how Jason knew what had been said during a private conversation between her and the ambassador, but didn’t. Embassies were notoriously gossipy, and the ambassador had made a performance of her dressing-down. No doubt the story of him pounding his desk in the face of the acting CIA station chief had spread like wildfire before she’d even left his office.
Besides, good spies should want to snoop.
Now she just had to hope that the men and women in the conference room with her were committed to gathering more than just gossip.
“Because the ambassador—”
“The ambassador does not run this station. I do. A Russian intelligence officer expressed his intention to provide vital information to stop a potential war in Latvia. Unless the president himself tells me otherwise, we are going to collect that information. Any other questions?”
Irene looked at each of her officers rather than focusing on Jason. This was partly because she wanted to allow him to save face and partly because if her assessment had been incorrect and he was just the spokesman and not the resident troublemaker, she didn’t want to alienate a potential ally. But more than that, she needed the case officersgathered around the table to internalize the reality that the days of playing it safe were over.
“Just one—Kris Henrik is still in a Russian prison, correct?”
Jason again.
Her first impression was definitely correct.
“The ambassador and his team are working tirelessly on this issue,” Irene said, “but yes, Miss Henrik is still detained.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jason said with a somber expression. “Look, everyone in this room knew the risks when we signed up for this job. We accepted them. Our families did not. Maybe we should hunker down until Kris has been released. Or bring our spouses and kids onto the embassy grounds until this blows over.”
Irene nodded.
What Jason was proposing was infinitely reasonable.