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It was now 7:30. Workers were entering buildings all up and down the street. He looked around and relaxed, now he wasn’t the only civilian near the building. Walking onto E Street was an uphill exercise. He fiddled with the dial, but still only heard scratching noises. Was the unit working? Was he close enough?
He reached the midpoint of the back of the State Department building, and the scratching sounds diminished. Walking across a grassy area, he reached inside his shirt and fine-tuned the remote. He heard voices talking about the eight o’clock meeting. He leaned on a concrete retaining wall just high enough to be comfortable while he watched the traffic below.
***
The Russian embassy was already busy at 8:00. Ambassador Oskars Linkov accompanied his emissary, Galina Trofimoff. They walked the outside grounds to discuss her standing in for him today at an important meeting. Linkov was a tall man with a thick salt and pepper mustache, in contrast to Trofimoff’s slender, five-foot-seven height.
Later in the morning, she was going to confer with members of the Senate Economic and Security Commission regarding US oil drilling partnerships in Siberia. Since the United States and Europe were being taken advantage of by Middle Eastern oil masters, Russia was the only nation with petroleum potential for the United States.
It was a touchy international situation. The United Arab Emirates had raised and lowered oil rates over the past decades, and market uncertainty began to take a toll on the world. Although the United States had acres of its own untapped oil fields and a lot of refined reserves, Russia’s vast petroleum underground needed a buyer. The United States refused to partake unless they shared drilling rights with Russia and had a written contract.
It was up to Russia to negotiate an oil price with the United States, and this was the reason for this first congressional meeting. Linkov knew this meeting was a waste of time and would only be an exchange of words. Today, he had another concern.
As he and Galina walked, the ambassador read off questions the congressional committee would likely ask, and Galina answered. The quizzing helped her feel prepared.
Linkov looked at his watch. “Galina, it’s already 9:00.” They walked back toward his office building, one of the two white buildings. She shook his hand and went into the two-story office building. Linkov walked into the other building. It not only served as his office but also held the two-floor penthouse apartment.
“Excuse me, Ambassador Linkov, Minister-Counselor Mikhail Berolsky is here.” He was second in command at the embassy. They took their seats.
***
Yury Nikulin walked back to his car to find a parking ticket stuck under the windshield washer blade. The time was 9:47. “Dammit!” he mumbled as he pushed it into his back pocket. As the spy sat in his car, he smiled smugly. His first day on this job and he had recorded a special meeting between State Department personnel! He drove back to the embassy to meet with the ambassador and the minister-counselor.
After closing the door, he took a seat alongside Berolsky. Linkov buzzed the receptionist and said to hold all calls, except from Moscow. “So, Yury, let’s hear what you got for us today.” Linkov put the memory card into the computer and another one in a second port to record. Before they could start the recording, the phone rang.
Linkov picked up the telephone and said with a smile, “Yes, President Borodin, I’m doing fine. And you, sir?” He made hand signals indicating the two men should wait outside while he took the call.
“I do not have a lot of time, Oskars.”
“Yes, Mr. President. I understand. Please, continue.”
Borodin said the Russian ambassador to Iraq informed him about a new political faction called Tariq’Allah. They were sending spies into Germany. He explained these people obtained jobs from the US Army, claiming they were ISIS defectors. “But they must be doing more than just cleaning offices. I don’t believe they are ISIS traitors. I do think this political faction is gathering security intelligence information. They are gaining access into army offices by doing the same thing your scouts are doing in Washington, DC.”
“How is this possible? How can Iraqis get these jobs, especially since the US security policies are more stringent with Middle East people?
“It’s not a mystery the jobs are available. They advertise for workers and take whoever they can get because the Germans do not want to work for them anymore.”
The president changed the subject. He told the ambassador the Russian spy in Iraq found out an espionage project had been approved. “It deals with obtaining information of a scientific discovery developed in the United States. So far, there isn’t any more information. I want to find out more. This may require assigning another spy to watch what is going on. I just don’t know who we will pick. I will keep you informed.”
3
They Listen
The receptionist alerted Berolsky and Nikulin that they could return to the office. Linkov turned on the recording, and they heard Secretary of State Julia S. Mitchell say, “Welcome to our weekly meeting, everyone. Please be seated. Today, CIA Director Andrew Black will discuss foreign policy. Please proceed, Mr. Black.”
Black said there were items on the agenda dealing with Russia, Syria, and Iraq. The first item was a CIA belief Russia was trading underhandedly with foreign countries. He said their information came from satellite pictures that revealed train transports from Syria into Iraq and beyond.
Mitchell chuckled and remarked, “This is interesting.”
Black pointed out that the infrared satellite images revealed a train carrying military weaponry across its own country and into Iraq. It stopped at Sinjar, a town west of Mosul, Iraq, ISIS’ foothold.
The secretary of state couldn’t believe a train transported arms across a country at war. She asked if there was any physical identification of what was being transported, and its country of origin.
Black said his agent had done some research that could answer her question. He looked at Thomas Nolan. “Tom, it’s all yours.”
“Thank you, Director Black. Yes, Secretary Mitchell, we know the origin of this shipment. To begin, however, I want to show you the territory we’re talking about.” Thomas Nolan, Ph.D., was a Marine veteran who had been with the CIA for eight years. He walked to the side of the room. An overhead projector displayed a large map onto a screen. As the room lights dimmed, he said, “This map covers Europe and the Mideast.” His laser pointer identified the geographical areas. “As we are all aware, the former Soviet Union comprised a large area within the circle I’m making with the laser pointer. The Ukraine country, down here, is included. It’s in this region where tanks, missiles, and war-related materials are stored in mountain caves. The precise number is unknown, but we believe they number in the hundreds. When the Soviet Union disbanded in 1989, Moscow’s underground mafia confiscated many files. They contained information about the quantity, types, and storage locations of the weapons. The Russian mafia sells the military equipment to Middle Eastern countries like Syria, Iraq, and others.
“The Ukrainian government will not return any of the tanks and other materials to Russia. They argue Russia refuses to share the costs. Anyway, military equipment is being shipped from the port of Odessa on the Black Sea. Then, it goes from the Odessa port down here to the Syrian docks of Al Ladhigiyah, which is here.” He held the pointer to that map location and focused on Mitchell. She had a fleeting thought about Russia’s involvement. Why would they bomb Syria and take credit for offensive fighting against ISIS when they are sending weaponry to ISIS? Nolan saw her stern look and realized his comments didn’t make enough of an impression. He focused on Black. “I’ll let you take over from here, sir.” The room lights were turned back up.
Black opened a large brown envelope and pulled out photographs, which he distributed.
“These are from the satellite imaging I spoke about a few minutes ago. They show large canvas covers strapped to these train cars. The infrared satellite photos reveal there are metallic rec
tangular objects under the tarps. There are seven of these hidden objects, and five of them are so big that only one object fits into a train car. The photos show a tubular object, like a cannon barrel. We assume it is a Russian-built tank with a 240-millimeter cannon. The last two tarp-covered train cars before the caboose contain electronics and tank mortar rounds,” explained Black. “It’s hard to accept, but the Russian mafia markets this equipment by employing Ukrainians to do the hard work.”
Mitchell’s eyes opened wide. That was it, she thought, the Russian mafia. We’re getting it from two factions; the mob and the Kremlin.
Black admitted that it was a preliminary guess, but the CIA believed ISIS was financially supported by a more powerful source in the Middle East. He didn’t say anything for another five minutes, letting the people view the photographs. The spiel ended by reminding everybody of the 9/11 incidents and assuming they knew where the funding for that mass murder came from.
Mitchell thanked Black and Nolan. “The next item to discuss is from FBI Agent Gregory Andrews.”
“Good morning, Madam Secretary. We have information about an Iraqi political group called Tariq’Allah. Some members of this group are getting permanent residence in Third World countries, which is not illegal, but we’re concerned because it’s only happening in countries the United Nations is not funding.”
Secretary Mitchell folded her hands on the table, and her expression became firm. “Yes, it’s a shame the UN has reduced its focus on smaller nations. But for now, what are the Iraqis doing that has you so upset?”
“Well, the most aggravating aspect,” Andrews said, “is they are using the UN’s standstill to introduce and promote their mission. We found out because Somalia asked the UN if this was legal.”
“I still don’t get it,” stated the secretary. “I see nothing wrong with a Middle East nation trying to expand its own economy, as long as it’s legitimate and doesn’t violate UN sanctions. This situation certainly seems different from the one Mr. Black described.”
Major General Elliott leaned forward and interrupted. His height and broad torso made him easy to see. “Since I’ve been at Fort Meade in Maryland, I’ve worked with Mr. Black and Mr. Andrews for several months. It’s not all war games between them. Iraq wants to expand economically.”
Mitchell said, “I have no cause to concern myself with what Iraq is doing.”
The general smiled. “Yes, but let’s not forget, Russia’s diplomatic friendship is at best strained with Western nations because of their bombings in Syria. And it’s a growing problem with their mafia aiding ISIS. They will not stop until they sell everything. Putin won’t do anything. ISIS will continue their efforts at mass destructions and killings. This could broaden into other Middle East nations. We must be cognizant of these matters.”
“What a soap opera,” Andrews remarked. There were quiet laughs around the table.
Mitchell said, “Yes. But I wish to add to what you said, General. Many Middle Eastern countries are major elements in the foreign community but hide behind strict religious rules in order to do what they damn well please.”
Everyone at the table looked grave. Finally, the secretary said, “Okay, what else do we want to talk about?”
General Frommer was stationed at INSCOM. He leaned forward, rested his arms on the table, and said, “Madam Secretary, since ISIS has assumed an international position in the Middle East, they are showing aggression unlike we’ve seen since World War II. We know Iran has been obtaining uranium and working to produce atomic weapons. They argue they need nuclear energy, but we don’t believe their efforts are all about energy.” He took a sip of coffee and added, “We must maintain some form of surveillance with all unfriendly countries. Let’s continue talks with them and use satellites to scan the world. We’ll not only protect ourselves but show how to deal with many international problems. We know that’s what the UN is supposed to do, but sometimes it takes them longer to make a decision than our own Congress.” He sat back.
“I wonder about that, but I see your point, General,” said Mitchell.
The secretary thought for a moment and then said, “One other thing. Are all of you aware there is an Iraqi entourage visiting Washington, DC?”
FBI Agent Andrews stated, “Yes, Madam Secretary. They’re touring some agricultural areas in Maryland, Pennsylvania, and North and South Carolina. We think a few are associated with the Tariq’Allah group and we’re keeping an eye on them.”
They heard her say, “Good. Okay, let’s take a break and get some coffee.”
Linkov pushed the “stop” button on the recorder. He remembered visiting the State Department building many times and discussing foreign affairs issues in the same room. He turned around and said, “You have done an excellent job on your first mission, Yury.”
Berolsky added, “Yes. I agree. What we are hearing is important information. But, for the moment, Oskars, let’s have a break as well.”
Linkov walked out into the reception area. Nikulin followed Berolsky but branched off to use the bathroom. The receptionist gave Linkov a message, which said the Iraqi diplomats were going to be a half hour late and asked him to hold lunch until then. Linkov sneered and thought: They are nervy bastards, especially since they requested this meeting. He told the receptionist to call the kitchen for coffee service. He gave the note to his minister-counselor to make him aware of the delay.
Nikulin stood on the outside terrace smoking a cigarette. Linkov joined him, and they puffed and talked for a few minutes. “Do you feel confident enough to continue to do this work?” Nikulin raised his heavy eyebrows and said he’d been waiting for something like this ever since the transfer to DC. Pleased with that confident assurance, the ambassador said, “Let’s get back to our meeting, Yury.”
Before they entered, Nikulin pulled out the parking ticket from his back pocket and handed it to Linkov, who smiled and agreed to take care of it.
He started the recording. They listened to Mitchell talk about the Russian underground fueling war in Syria and Iraq. They knew the finger could not be pointed to the Russian mob or its military. They had no proof. “Also, if the suspicion of Middle East spies in Germany becomes a fact, then we will get involved diplomatically and legally. Next, I must admit the double-dealing with Third World countries is fair trading. There’s nothing we can do except look into it.” She put the page aside and added, “During the break, I spoke with the DIA and learned Russia denies manufacturing tank ammunition for the tanks transferred from Ukraine. However, the Russian black market might be supplying the ammunition.
“We have to adjourn because I’m sitting in on a conference with a subcommittee on Capitol Hill. They’re getting together with the Russian delegation regarding the oil drilling agreement. We won’t meet next week because I’ll be in Berlin. We’re considering broadening our diplomatic relations with Iran, believe it or not, and the president thought a midpoint location would be best. At least he’s willing to try again. A few other countries also will participate.” After hesitating a moment, the secretary added, “I can’t wait to see the reaction from the Russian ambassador in Berlin when I mention their weapons shipments from the port of Odessa.” Her smile widened. “Anyway, my office will notify all of you about the next meeting.”
The recording came to a stop. Neither Nikulin nor Berolsky was worried about the Russian clique and their relationship with the Ukrainian underground. Nikulin asked, “When do you think there will be another talk?”
Linkov leaned forward and rested his arms on the desk. “You forget, Yury, your former comrades still clean the office of the Foreign Relations secretary, who is a good friend of the secretary of state.” A smile grew on his face, and he added, “Plus, we have the transmitter in the conference room. Believe me, Yury, we will find out about the next meeting.” Now I must stick to a luncheon obligation. Let’s talk the first of next week.” He told Berolsky to come back at 12:30 for the luncheon.
4
T
he Luncheon
The midday weather was beautiful, eighty-three degrees with little humidity and a slight breeze. The ambassador took a drag of his cigarette. Blowing out the smoke, he thought: This wait is demeaning. I should have been more involved in the scheduling of this meeting. He wondered whether he should have notified his supervisor, Viktor Chayka, Russia’s minister of foreign affairs. If he finds out, I’ll just say I forgot to inform him. He took another drag. What do I care anyway? Chayka has black spots on his résumé. He knew the Russian Duma, or legislature, could dismiss him for such misconduct. He massaged his nose and wondered if the Iraqis were going to mention his association with the Russian mafia. Are they going to try blackmail? What the hell do they want?
The sight of Yury Nikulin leaving in his car shifted the ambassador’s thoughts. He thought about the future and becoming wealthy. He’d like to retire and live a less demanding lifestyle. He would have retirement income from the Russian Federation and be entitled to settle in Ukraine along the Black Sea.
His daydream was broken when he felt the heat of the cigarette on his fingers. He dropped the butt into the sand urn, reentered the office, and placed the memory card into a Moscow mail folder. He labeled an envelope and put the backup card in a file cabinet.
The telephone rang, and his secretary told him Galina was on hold. He picked up the other line, and she told him the congressional meeting was adjourned until 2:00. For the next ten minutes, they discussed the content of the conference. She said the panel director, Senator Lauer, wanted a business contract to be cowritten by the Russian government and his panel members, outlining the drilling rights of United States oil companies. Also, the senator said US oil investors wanted to receive a special discount for any crude oil Russia agreed to sell them. They wanted her to answer. “I briefly explained you had to be present. I also told them you had a more important matter to work with today. I wish you could have seen their faces.”