Chapter 4 #2
“Problem is, if you’re going to be performing what amounts to torture on your fellow humans, you don’t really want your name or your money linked to a project like that in any way.
The International Criminal Court might not have as much power as it used to before the restructuring of the European Union into the European Alliance, but it still holds the rights to try people for crimes against humanity.
Getting a guilty verdict on something like that is bad for business.
So what do you do? You could build up a few more shell companies for money-laundering purposes, but you still run the risk of the crime getting linked back to you.
Or you do what the Presnenskaya Bratva has practically turned into an art form—you lure in the rich and blackmail them to get your way. That’s where Jansen comes in.”
Sean enlarged a third holopic, throwing it up beside Yakov Pavluhkin’s in the center of the table. The family resemblance was impossible to miss.
“This is Stanislav Pavluhkin, Yakov’s oldest son and most likely successor.
Thirty-five years old, unmarried, but he never wants for company.
Vice president of SDK and his father’s undisputed right hand within the Presnenskaya Bratva.
Stanislav deals in kompromat concerning the rich, and Jansen helps him get those secrets.
Jansen brings in the targets through his facilitation efforts, and Stanislav does the rest. The blackmail material Stanislav must have on an untold number of the rich and famous is, I would guess, a horrifying amount.
It has to be if you can force people—real, legitimate people—to sign for control of fake companies that basically fund terrorist organizations, leaving them to take the fall when discovered while the Pavluhkins and the Presnenskaya Bratva are in the clear. ”
By the end of Sean’s explanation, Kyle found he wasn’t the only one in the room looking at where Jamie sat farther up the table next to Stirling. Jamie’s expression was shuttered, gaze revealing nothing as he studied the information in front of him.
“This is background,” Jamie finally said, turning his head to look at Nazari. “What’s the mission, sir?”
Nazari leaned back in his chair, staring at the slew of information sitting on the table representing months of hard work, deep digging, and possibly a few lost lives with a grim look on his face.
“The United States government, along with the governments of several allies, believes the Kremlin, working through the Presnenskaya Bratva, is using these other terrorist groups as a cover. Their goal, achieved through human experiments using the Splice chemical, is to figure out a testing process to separate those who can become a metahuman from those who cannot. In short, we believe they are running a genetic arms race we can’t afford to lose.
The Russians don’t want a cure. They don’t want a vaccine.
They want metahumans to deploy as weapons.
Young, strong men and women who aren’t arbitrary survivors of Splice bomb attacks.
An eighty-eight-year-old grandmother or a two-year-old aren’t fighters.
But people in their prime? Armed with enhanced powers?
In numbers we can’t equal? That’s a threat we can’t ignore,” Nazari said, his voice flat and emotionless as he laid out the facts.
“We need information on where their labs are located, the data on the experiments they’re doing, anything and everything that shows the Russian government is perpetuating what amounts to war crimes against not only their own people but people taken from other countries as well.
We need evidence. In order to get it, we need to get close and get our hands dirty,” Stirling said.
Jamie held Nazari’s gaze and didn’t look away. “You picked us for a reason.”
“Because money talks,” Sean said with an apologetic grimace. “And the only person who has finances that outclass the Pavluhkin family’s riches and who the United States government has complete faith in, who we know won’t be swayed into becoming a double agent, is you.”
Kyle closed his eyes for a second or two, the taste of synthcaf on his tongue going rancid. On paper, it made sense. Holy hell, did it make sense. But this was a clusterfuck of epic proportions just waiting to blow up in their faces.
Katie cleared her throat a little as she leaned forward to stare down the table at where Nazari sat.
“Jamie’s father is campaigning for the Republican nomination in the presidential election.
Considering Jamie had a New York Times investigative reporter following him around just two days ago when he was on liberty, the press isn’t going to go away.
If Jamie is seen with criminals of this magnitude, that’s going to reflect—I’d use the word ‘badly,’ but that doesn’t even begin to convey the sheer shit-show his father will be thrown into if that happens.
Traitor is going to be the nicest thing the media calls Richard Callahan, sir. ”
“We are aware of what the possible fallout of this mission will cost certain people. However, the president agrees that this mission is too important to leave on the table,” Nazari said.
“Do I have a choice?” Jamie asked into the silence.
“In this particular instance? Yes, you have a choice.”
“From where I stand, it doesn’t feel like a choice, sir.”
“I’m not one to leave my people out to dry, Callahan. You know that. This will be a joint mission with the United Kingdom’s UMG. You and your team won’t be going in as illegals. You will have the full backing of the United States government for this mission.”
“Full backing in that both governments have a tacit agreement to allow for our undercover operations on Top Secret orders, but does that support extend to the public? Would it cover my father when this blows back on him, because we both know there is no way to keep him completely clean of this when I’m the one the mission is built around. ”
Nazari’s silence spoke volumes.
“I see,” Jamie eventually said. “I’d like to speak with you in private, sir.”
Nazari got to his feet and snagged his can of Zing! “Let’s go to my office. Stirling, please join us. Delaney? I’ll leave you to handle the rest of the briefing.”
Kyle had to give the agent credit as Jamie left the room with Nazari and Stirling. Sean seemed undaunted by the prospect of facing down everyone left behind.
* * *
Sean was going to be flayed alive and his body dumped in the Potomac.
That was his first thought when the director left him alone with the remaining members of Alpha Team to finish up the briefing.
Looking around the table and seeing all eyes on him, Sean swallowed back a sigh.
Their intimidating focus was similar to the hostility he’d faced from his former superiors at the CIA three years ago when he’d been on the way out.
They hadn’t exactly been pleased with one of their deep cover agents getting caught in a Splice chemical bomb that decimated a market in Belfast. His cover in Northern Ireland with the Reborn Irish Republican Army had been burned when it became clear he wasn’t going to die during a power fight between two factions.
Getting home from that mess had taken far too long due to the power Sean had walked away with.
Having control of a phase field that enabled him to phase through solid objects was all well and good, but when that same power disrupted electronics, including all bioware and nanotech implanted in his body, things got complicated.
Not as complicated as this, Sean thought in the privacy of his own mind.
At thirty-one, he hadn’t envisioned he would end up working for the MDF.
He’d been career CIA ever since he was recruited at the age of eighteen while screwing around during his freshman year at the University of New Seattle.
He’d given up a lot since saying yes to that offer to serve his country—the rock band he and his three brothers had formed and any possible decent relationship with his parents after he lied about dropping out of college.
A fractious relationship with his now-famous brothers and increasingly frosty communications with parents who saw him as having squandered away his future for a dead-end bank auditor position they thought he held was Sean’s prize for trying to do right by his country.
Yet here he was again, attempting to put country first and fucking up someone else’s life on orders from his superiors in the process.
“Did you pick Jamie for this mission?” Katie demanded once the door closed on their team captain and the brass.
“I was ordered to build the mission around his identity,” Sean replied evenly, meeting her fierce gaze without blinking. “I did the best I could to minimize potential damage.”
“Sure you did,” Donovan scoffed.
Sean swiped a finger over the terminal in front of him, pulling up a command window. He tapped on a subfolder and opened it up. Eight files appeared, and he sent seven of them to their designated recipients.
“These are your cover identities. Read them. Know them forward and backward. The mission isn’t scheduled to move forward until later this week, so you have time to absorb the facts.”
“If it moves forward. The MDF is asking a hell of a fucking lot from Jamie this time around. If it were me, I wouldn’t agree to it,” Kyle said. A few other members of Alpha Team echoed their agreement of his statement.
Sean tilted his head in acknowledgment of that fact. “The secondary plan I was told to build up isn’t as strong as the first. It involves the same methodology, but with far more effort involved in creating false facts we want to portray as true.”
“Why don’t you enlighten us to your methodology?” Madison said flatly.
“Yeah,” Annabelle agreed. “Enlighten us.”