The Sniper and the Wolf

38

Pope sat in his hospital bed talking on the phone with Vladimir Federov of the GRU.

“Dragunov is now safely aboard the submarine?” Federov asked.

“That’s right,” Pope said. “He lost a finger on Sicily, but other than that, he’s in pretty good shape. Our man is a bit more banged up. But they’ve both been tended to by the surgeon aboard the Ohio, and after thirty-six hours’ rest, we can put them ashore in Europe. All we need is for you to arrange the when and where.”

“What about Kovalenko?”

“That fish got away,” Pope said. “I understand your people attempted to take out Dokka Umarov yesterday? How did it go?”

Federov didn’t respond immediately.

“We overheard some radio traffic,” Pope volunteered.

“Well,” Federov said, “then you must already know how it went. Umarov wiped out an entire Spetsnaz team. Neither of us is doing very well, Robert.”

“These are still the early innings. Is Moscow giving you trouble?”

“My superiors are not patient men,” Federov said. “The French government has identified Yeshevsky and the other men that Shannon killed in Paris. Their Ministry of Foreign Affairs is giving our ambassador a difficult time.”

“I take it you’re no longer in Paris?”

“I’m in Bern now,” Federov said. “The DPSD wanted to question me. I thought it better to avoid that.” The DPSD was the French military’s Direction de la Protection et de la Sécurité de la Défense, charged with counterespionage.

Pope chuckled. “I can imagine you did. They’ve made a couple of subtle inquiries at our embassy, but our ambassador there doesn’t know anything.”

“My superiors are worried your State Department will leave us holding the bag on this if it goes public.”

“I can understand that,” Pope said. “And while I can’t promise that won’t happen, I do know that my president and his closest advisers are pleased by the level of cooperation we’ve enjoyed thus far. We both have mud on our faces, and if it went public today, I’m confident my president would be willing to accept an equal amount of responsibility — as long as your superiors would be willing to admit this has been a joint operation.”

Federov chortled. “That would certainly cause a certain amount of gossip within the NATO community.”

“I’m not sure gossip is the right word,” Pope replied, “but I take your point. Anyhow, it’s a new world. The Islamists are about to join the nuclear weapons community, so Russia and the United States are going to have to learn to work together. NATO may even one day become irrelevant. Regardless, it’s our job to make sure this little mess we’ve created doesn’t go public. In fact, the future of the CIA probably depends on it.”

“Senator Grieves is still pushing to dissolve the agency?”

“Yes, and he’s gaining influence within the Senate. Not nearly enough yet, but a scandal like this wouldn’t help our cause.” Pope did not go on to share that Grieves was now the subject of an FBI investigation into possible treasonous activities.

“Have Western oil companies been advised on the plot to disrupt the pipeline?” Federov asked.

“No,” Pope answered. “We’ve decided to leave them in the dark. There was some trouble six months back with an oil platform off the coast of Nigeria, and their mercenaries made our job ten times harder than it needed to be, so we’re leaving them out of it this time.”

“Fine. How soon will the Ohio be able to put our men back ashore?”

“That depends on where you make the arrangements.”

“How about Turkey?” Federov suggested. “I have a number of resources there.”

“Good,” Pope said. “I’ll run it through the proper channels and get back to you in twenty-four hours.”

“That will give me the time I need,” Federov said. “Now, tell me: How are you feeling? I was more than slightly relieved to hear you had survived the attempt on your life.”

“The doctors tell me I’m mending well. Thank you for asking.”

“And the filthy traitors who ordered the attempt?”

Pope was quiet for a moment. “Well, you know the old saying, Vladimir: it’s stupid to fail.”