Page 63 of Operation: Silent Angel
Shepherd stood just inside the tavern, close to the door. Cooper made his way to the front of the hotel once he knew Madison didn’t need backup, and he stood a few feet away. Koslov’s partner walked past them and to the far side of the bar where he was immediately approached by the female bartender, paid by Cooper to have her breasts on display, bulging from her shirt. She kept him engaged in animated and arousing conversation as Anatoly and Shepherd made the switch.
Stepping back out into the hallway, Shepherd bumped into Koslov, preventing him from entering behind his partner. Besides the masks, the two men were dressed identically in black suits over black dress shirts, secured with gold silk ties. They were also the same height and build, and both had the same black hair. Shepherd removed his gold and black mask and handed it to the Russian. “Slight change of plan. Mac will meet you out front.” Cooper stepped in close. “He’ll take you there.”
“Thank you, Shepherd. Did they get Kira out?” Anatoly asked.
Shepherd nodded, taking Koslov’s mask from him. He donned the full-face Phantom of the Opera mask as Koslov slipped Shepherd’s on. “How will I identify your contact?” Shepherd asked.
“He’ll be wearing a Mardi Gras-style mask and will approach you on this side of the bar. Try to sit in chair number one or two,” Koslov answered. “He knows to look for the Phantom of the Opera mask. The code words are, the circus is in town to which you answer, complete with the clowns.”
“Good luck to you,” Shepherd said.
“One more thing. Be kind to my partner. If he returns, he will be harshly reprimanded by our superiors for losing us.”
“You want me to offer him asylum?” Shepherd asked.
“His name is Maxim. You could make the offer,” Koslov said.
“But you didn’t trust him enough to bring him in on your plan?”
“Nyet,” Koslov replied.
“And the man who was assigned to Kira?” Shepherd asked.
“Don’t bother. He is loyal.” Then he stepped away, and he and Cooper disappeared into the crowd.
Shepherd took the number two chair at the bar as the number one seat was already filled by a man wearing a Mardi Gras mask. “This seat isn’t taken, is it?” he asked the man, feigning a Russian accent.
“No, it’s free, but I’m sure not for long, as the circus is in town.” He had a distinctive East Coast accent.
“Complete with the clowns,” Shepherd replied.
The man had a cellphone sitting on the bar in front of him. He slid it towards Shepherd. Then he took a drink from his glass. Shepherd lifted it and opened the unsecured phone. He accessed and scrolled through the pictures of classified documents. Theprint was too small for him to identify what was typed on each page without accessing each photo and zooming in, but the Classified stamp told him all he needed to know. This man was selling U.S. secrets to the Russians.
The man lifted a second cell phone from the bar top and gazed at the screen. Shepherd knew he was waiting for the funds transfer to be received. Little did he know he would not be receiving the payment. And his profitable side hustle was coming to an immediate end. In his ear, Shepherd was also relieved to hear that Kira had been delivered to Mac and Madison was on her way back to protect Diana. She’d left the restrained and now unconscious FSB agent in the garage, hidden behind a car.
The man beside Shepherd turned his head to view Shepherd’s profile. “Well?” He demanded. He was getting nervous.
Shepherd held up one finger and then continued to scroll through the pictures, as if he were inspecting the documents carefully before providing payment. He just had to delay long enough for Cooper to return. His ETA was less than two minutes. Through comms he heard that Cooper had just put Anatoly in the car with Mac and Kira and was on his way back to assist Shepherd in the takedown. His eyes flickered across the bar to Anatoly Koslov’s partner, whose eyes were now on him from behind the black half-face mask he wore. The bartender had moved on to get drinks for other patrons. Shepherd waved her off when she asked what she could get him.
Shepherd zoomed in on one of the pictures, curious to see exactly what intel was being sold. It was a secure email between the DoD and an arms manufacturer that had a governmentcontract to produce unmanned drones with weapons systems. The email confirmed production specs, delivery dates, locations, and transportation details. Great, all anyone would need to intercept a shipment.
Finally, Cooper entered and went to the other side of the man, who still gazed at Shepherd with expectancy, to provide the payment. Shepherd slid the cell phone into the breast pocket of his jacket. He nodded to Cooper. As Cooper grabbed the man’s left arm, Shepherd stood and grabbed his right. Both men pulled his arms behind his back. It would have been done quietly and discreetly had the man cooperated. Instead, he yelled, struggled, and made a scene, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
“You are under arrest for selling U.S. secrets to a Russian operative,” Shepherd whispered in his ear without even a hint of the accent he’d faked earlier, as Cooper secured his wrists in zip ties. Koslov’s partner across the bar rose and rushed over. “Stand down,” Shepherd said to him. His gaze returned to Cooper. “Get him out of here.”
“Where is Anatoly?” the Russian said in a demanding whisper as he leaned in close. The man looked genuinely confused, an expression that quickly changed into anger when Shepherd replied.
“Koslov and his wife are long gone. What you need to decide is, are you going back to Moscow empty-handed, just waiting to be reprimanded, or do you want to come out of this on top? You have two minutes to decide.”
“I have diplomatic immunity,” the man said.
“It’s been revoked, and you’ll be on the next flight out of the nearest airport if you don’t have something to bargain with to stay here,” Shepherd said, retaking his seat and motioning to the empty one next to him.
After Cooper led the seller out, the room went back to how it had been. Conversations came back to life, and although a few in the room regarded Shepherd with probing stares, most returned their gazes to their dinner partners.
“It’s Maxim, isn’t it?” he asked as the Russian took the seat beside him.
“Yes, and you are?”
