Close Quarters

FORTY-TWO

Brian Callahan was also deep in thought after his talk with Portman. He was astonished by what he’d just learned and what it meant for him and the Agency. The discovery of a photo ID of Travis in the hands of a Ukrainian private investigator was alarming enough, and following the plain-text message sent to Travis containing the address of the CIA cut-out in Donetsk, his suspicions were instinctively directed towards the State Department and their earlier carelessness. They had done it once — they could have easily repeated that mistake. But something told him that wasn’t the answer. Something else was going on here. Because for the man to have had a photo of Marc Portman entering the CIA sub-office in New York showed a security breach of an unprecedented kind and could have come only from somebody on the inside.

Further, this wasn’t the acquisition of documents or even archived files, which would have been serious enough. This was up-to-the-minute theft of security material and could have only come from somebody with current access to CIA storage systems — namely, hard disk drives.

He looked at a note he’d made while talking to Portman, and reached for the phone. He gave the details about Voloshyn to one of the team of researchers in the building. ‘Find out everything you can on this man; where he lives, his history — including military service — and what this company BJ Group is all about.’

‘Right away, sir.’

He put down the phone and went back to considering the issue of Portman’s photo, and was mentally composing a security breach report for immediate circulation when Assistant Director Sewell walked in and dropped a folder on his desk with a slap.

‘I’d like your comments on this, Brian.’ Sewell sounded abrupt, even bad-tempered, which was out of character, and swung away to stare out of the window, his shoulders stiff.

Callahan reached out and opened the folder, wondering what was wrong. It was part of Lindsay Citera’s personnel file, and contained a summary of the vetting reports and background analysis on her family, friends, contacts and lifestyle, which every applicant to the CIA had to go through. He skim-read it but could see nothing to indicate why Sewell should be so edgy or concerned.

‘Sorry. What’s the problem?’

Sewell turned back. ‘It’s been brought to my attention that Citera has family problems that might put her in a situation to become compromised. Were you aware of them?’

‘You mean her brother being in a military lock-up? Of course. It’s on file. So?’

‘And her sister with serious debt problems?’

‘That, too.’

‘Did you also know that Citera has been sending her sister considerable amounts of money recently?’

Jesus, thought Callahan, where the hell is this going? ‘Actually, I didn’t know that, Jason. But so what? If we questioned the credibility of every employee who helped out their family with money, we’d have to clear out well over half our workforce, starting at the top. Hell, I send my daughter a cheque every month to help with her school expenses. That doesn’t make me a security risk … unless, of course, someone thinks otherwise?’

‘No, of course not.’ Sewell blinked in surprise at the strength of Callahan’s response. ‘I’m simply checking something, that’s all, and wanted to run it by you first.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Callahan pushed the folder away, sensing it contained nothing relevant to Sewell’s real reason for being down here. ‘Do you mind telling me what this is really about? Are you unhappy with her performance as Watchman’s comms support? Because if you are, I’d appreciate a heads-up on why — and how you came to that conclusion.’

Sewell’s jaw tensed, and he sat down with a heavy sigh. He slid a sheet of paper across the desk. ‘I’m sorry, Brian, but I’ve just had a call from one of our background investigators in the security section. They’ve uncovered evidence of an unidentified payment of twenty thousand dollars into Citera’s account.’

Callahan felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. Instinct told him it was a mistake … except that the security section didn’t make mistakes like that. He looked at the slip of paper, which was an internal memorandum of the kind he’d seen many times before, usually dealing with minor security lapses by personnel and intended to highlight possible action to be taken by their supervisors. ‘It could be entirely innocent — or a banking error.’

‘Not according to security. They do this all the time, checking out bank details and transactional movements. It’s all very clear: the payment was made through an overnight hole-in-the-wall deposit vault at a downtown branch of Citera’s bank. It was in cash, using a paying-in slip with a source name that leads nowhere. I’ve asked for a photo record of the deposit, but I’m not holding out much hope of getting anything.’

Callahan stared at him, amazed at the ease with which Sewell seemed to have picked up and accepted this particular bug. ‘I see. And you don’t think that maybe it’s a little convenient? Even obvious? Lindsay wouldn’t even know anything about this — she’s been down here all the time.’ He checked himself not to go too far; stranger things had happened in the intelligence world and against all his instincts he could be proven wrong. But he felt this was an important point to make his feelings known. ‘In any case, may I ask since when did any assistant director check the background details of a trainee officer? We have a security section whose job it is to do that.’

Sewell’s jaw clamped tight. ‘Maybe so. That’s why I’m giving you the chance to find out before I instigate an official security check into every aspect of her life going back to day one. You know what will happen if I do that.’

Callahan knew, and felt sick. Lindsay would be taken off the assignment and detained pending results of an enquiry. In the end she would be out of a job or consigned to whichever backwater dead-end post they could find for her. ‘But we’re right in the middle of—’ He stopped, suddenly seeing visions of the photos Portman had talked about.

Christ, no. It wasn’t possible.

‘What?’ Sewell had noticed. ‘Brian?’

Callahan took a deep breath. ‘I was about to come and see you, anyway, prior to making a security breach report.’ He relayed what Portman had told him, and the likelihood that classified material had been leaked from within the CIA’s own structure. ‘No way would the State Department have had Portman’s face on file, and certainly not from a security camera in the New York office. It has to be a leak.’

Sewell didn’t look convinced, but Callahan wasn’t surprised. Sewell wouldn’t have been the first senior officer of an intelligence organization to doubt the possibility of a mole on the inside passing on information. ‘I hate to suggest this, Brian, but isn’t it possible that Citera might be the leak — bearing in mind what I’ve been told?’

Callahan fought to keep his cool. This was in danger of turning into a witch-hunt. Sewell seemed ready to convict Lindsay at every turn, proof unseen. ‘Seriously? I don’t see how. She wouldn’t have access to the camera hard drives, not unless she’s a lot more IT-savvy than her record shows and managed to access systems that have all kinds of firewalls and security protocols to prevent that.’

‘It’s possible, though.’

But Callahan wasn’t buying it. ‘But why? For what purpose? She’s not in the pay of a foreign government — I doubt she’s ever given it a thought. Christ, Jason, she’s helping Watchman, not trying to betray him! In any case, how did security know about this alleged unidentified payment? Something must have made them look. What was it?’

Sewell didn’t even blink. ‘You know I can’t share that. All I can tell you is that a line of information was passed to them that indicated there might be a security problem with an employee, rendering her open to unacceptable external pressure.’ He stood up. ‘I think twenty thousand bucks amounts to quite a lot of pressure, don’t you?’

Callahan stood too, his thigh slamming a desk drawer shut with a loud bang. ‘Dammit, Jason, wait. This mission’s at a critical point right now. Watchman’s got Travis and they’re making a run for the border with Moldova. That’s a long drive through God knows what kind of obstacles in a country that’s falling apart day by day. Watchman needs the eyes and ears and uninterrupted connection with a person he’s come to trust. Take that connection away and we might as well kick his legs from under him. You know the effect it can have — you’ve been there yourself.’

Sewell didn’t look convinced. ‘People get replaced in mid-op all the time, Brian. You know that as well as I. Portman will cope.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t you say he’s the best at this kind of work?’

‘Sure I did. And he is. But this is a distraction he doesn’t need. Don’t forget, he’s not on his own out there — he’s got another man in tow. We owe them both all the guidance we can give them. You take that away and the consequences could be severe.’ He stopped speaking, aware that he was sounding passionate and repeating himself, and in danger of overstepping the line. He wasn’t so close to Sewell that he could get away with almost anything, and certainly not with telling him that this was all bullshit, which he was sorely tempted to do.

Sewell was chewing on his lip in thought. He eyed Callahan and slowly nodded his head. ‘OK. I hear you. But from this minute on, you don’t let Citera out of your sight. You ride right alongside her, monitor her calls, stop all visitors and make sure she doesn’t have access to anything other than the equipment she needs for the job. Red light rules, got me?’

‘I hear you.’

‘In the meantime I’ll have security hold fire on their investigation. Let’s get Portman and Travis home first.’

‘Fine.’ Callahan nodded. He wanted to say more but knew he’d gone about as far as he could — for now.

Sewell stepped towards the door, then paused and turned back. He gave Callahan a bleak stare and said, ‘One other thing, Brian. I appreciate and understand your loyalty to your staff. It’s commendable. But let me remind you that if I wish to involve myself in internal security matters, it’s well within my scope of responsibility to do so.’

With that, Sewell walked out leaving Callahan conscious that he’d come closer than he’d ever thought possible to bringing his career in the CIA to an abrupt end. But he didn’t regret it. He might be wrong about Lindsay Citera, but only time would tell. For now, he had to keep this operation running. He’d deal with the fall-out later.

A ping announced an incoming internal mail message. He glanced at the screen and felt a twitch of disquiet. It was from Lindsay.