Friday, November 25, 2022
Subway Spies and Embassy Endeavours
Returning to the Audi, Benoit taking the wheel, Marek and Benoit were visibly frustrated, feeling the hoops they keep finding themselves having to jump through never ending.
Benoit’s phone buzzed in his pocket, Violet, the medical examiner was calling, their strange code names less obvious than others, Benoit calling her ‘V’, as she referred to him at ‘Trois’, his team number from back in the days as a GIGN operator. Answering the phone through the Audi Bluetooth, she was disturbed by the examination of the blood. Before getting too deep in the conversation, Benoit made Violet aware that Marek was present so as not to make her nervous. Her tone was strange, inquisitive yet worried, her explanation of what she had analysed was almost lost on the two men in the car, the blood itself showing key indicators at the composition, going unanswered to her question about the blood's origin, she was clearly perplexed as a scientist. The blood itself showed strange things, heavy elements of iridium and sulphur at levels too high to be recorded in an active sample. Clear evidence of viscosity, when diluted it goes to normal levels, after a short time it builds back up to original levels. Asking how old the sample was, Marek interjected with unknown age and that it was found unrefrigerated.
Growing increasingly stressed, V continued, describing previously unknown T-cell activity, the regular antibodies of a person pale in comparison to the regenerative and restorative capabilities of what she had found. Concluding that this sample is not something that has been accidentally done, this had to have been manufactured. Although incredible, she explained that it was not perfect, the sample showing high volatility to do with Gunther’s disease, an intense sensitivity to ultraviolet light, moving a part of the sample to examine at a different section of her lab, the UV light caused the sample to completely break down, turning the red liquid to grey ash.
The conversation continued as Violet expressed her deep concern regarding the sample, wherever it came from was not able to reside within a living body. Marek interjected that if this was injected into a living body, what she assumed would be the result, her immediate reaction being that it was highly toxic.
Violet could not rule out that this blood was completely manufactured, the T-cells and genetic markers regarding Gunther’s disease making it appear for more organic. She continued to explain the severity of the sample, her best way of describing it to the Neanderthals on the other end of the phone being that if a mediaeval alchemist was asked to take a look at Oppenheimer's prototype.
After ending the call requesting that all information regarding the blood be kept quiet until able to find out more about the source, Benoit hung up as he pulled the Audi into a car space across the road from CJH Investments.
A street of townhouses with similar plaques as the doctor’s office, a string of financial planners and accountants littered the footpath. Benoit continued to let his mouth run wild with theories regarding the blood sample, Marek drawing his attention to a young woman who had just exited the Investment firm. Observing her, Benoit noted her movements were that of standard procedure being poorly executed. Marek and Benoit exited the car, both checking their sidearms, as the took up a position following the woman. Benoit continued to talk as the two men turned on their phones to stay in contact as they walked some distance apart. Looking like a tourist on his phone, Marek scrolled through the pictures of the notebook from Dr Ingolf’s safe at Benoit’s request, Marek searched for anything to identify anyone, names, addresses, any form of lead to follow. Making matters worse, it was standard doctor’s handwriting, taxing at the best of times. Scrolling to the very beginning of the book, the only name found after a page full of scribbled out notes, one single name emerged in a disturbing sentence. ‘Rachov dropped off sample to prove how powerful they are’.
Repeating the sentence out loud so that Benoit could hear it, Marek placed his phone back in his pocket to focus on his work tailing their target. Benoit reminded Marek that if this was the girl they were looking for, the two would have to identify themselves as being sent by the MI6 chief, Carpenter.
The woman turned a corner at a sidestreet across the road from where Marek and Benoit walker, as they observed her movements, two men stepped out from a doorway on the corner of where she turned and began to follow her. Taking the alley and sighting her descending a flight of stairs to the subway, the two men who were seemed to be following her quickened their pace, from behind Benoit could see familiar tattoo’s poking out of the shirt collar of one of the men. Quickening their pace Marek and Benoit closed on the men without drawing too much attention to themselves. Descending into the subway station, Marek and Benoit could see the woman turn a corner down a second flight of stairs across a large tiled main entrance, they closed on the men who were near the second flight. Benoit moved quickly, closing within moments.
As the two men were descending the second flight of stairs, Benoit and Marek were close behind, Benoit letting out a call to them, a derogatory name filled the air in Russian, causing the man in front of Benoit to turn to see who had called out. Benoit’s fist bearing down on the man who quickly recognized his mistake, still moving down the stairs to create distance, the fist missing his face by centimetres, his balance failing him as Benoit pushed forward.
The second man in front of Marek turned to see Benoit swinging wildly, turning his gaze to Marek who was closing in, he reached inside his coat in search of his weapon. Marek did not hesitate, launching down the stairs with a powerful knee, the crunch of the man’s nose audible as the he was sent down the stairs in a bleeding mess. Sighting the woman in the distance who had paused to see the commotion, Marek watched as she locked eyes with him before turning and running around another corner.
Benoit pushed Marek to go after her while he dealt with the two men on the staircase. Benoit pulled his Glock in one swift motion, squeezing the trigger as he drew, his single shot turning the man who he had attempted to strike falling backwards down the stairs, hitting the floor next to his compatriot, blood oozing from the fresh hole in his face. Moving down the stairs, Benoit did not break his stride or take his eyes of Marek who was speeding ahead, squeezing off a second round into the head of the man Marek had knocked out.
Marek turned the corner where he had seen the woman vanish, ahead of him, a single female scream filled the air. Pushing forward, Marek followed the scream, turning to his right towards the train platform to see the woman he was tailing being held at gunpoint by a heavily tattooed man, a second gunman also present, both men unleashing a volley at Marek who barely had time to react. The tiled walls exploding at head height next to Marek’s face, he ducked and took cover, drawing his sidearm and returning fire on the gunman who was not protected by a human shield. The 45 calibre bullets tore through the man’s stomach, sending him backwards before falling to his knees clutching at holes in his torso before doubling over. The chaos was taking hold, the civilians who had littered the platform were moving in all directions, the sound of gunshots filling the enclosed space, the hostage taker clearly unfazed, continuing to fire in Marek’s direction.
Hearing through his earpiece that he had support, Marek took cover as he watched Benoit move swiftly from the other side of the entryway, his pistol firing a single shot. The red mist of arterial blood spray coating the tiled pillar behind the head of the hostage taker, his left eye now a mangled mess of tissue. As the man fell to the ground, the woman ran to the closes door she could see, the doors to the heavily occupied train that had just arrived.
Calling out across the platform, Marek announced that the two men were undercover police in an attempt to evacuate the crowd in a manner of some restraint. Following the woman, with nowhere to go, Marek and Benoit found her in the corner of the carriage, her hand in her handbag that was now pointed at Marek as he approached. Holstering his pistol as he looked at her, advising that they were sent by Carpenter, Benoit also echoed the remarks, advising that they had to move fast. Finally convincing the woman who in turn identified herself as Lynne Feinberg, CIA analyst, the three of them began their ascent back out of the train station, staying within the crowd as to not be easily identified.
The Audi pulled into the traffic smoothly, Benoit behind the wheel with Marek and Lynne in the back. Doing his best to reassure her whilst remaining on guard, Marek did his best to keep the atmosphere in the car calm.
Lynne finally began to speak, her tone tense yet clearly without a better option. Her details of the operation focussing heavily on the fact that it was not sanctioned, she was now a burnt asset. The reason for her leaving the CIA front at the time she did, was that her handler did not acknowledge that she existed. Her only plan, buy her way back into the CIA. Benoit pushed for more information on the operation and her extraction plan. She continued to fill in the two men, she was due to collect Shevlenko’s granddaughter who had previously dropped off the grid, the pick up scheduled for the following day. Now that the operation was a bust, she needed the information and the granddaughter in order to appease the CIA. Mr Green, the field team leader who was the direct contact with Carpenter at MI6, was one of the who vanished on the operation, himself being the only person with knowledge of how to extract the information from Shevlenko.
Confirming that it was a defection, the terms of the information that Shevlenko had that was extremely valuable was to deliver both Shevelnko and his granddaughter to the US. The back up extraction location if the previous night’s mission was a failure was to perform the removal on the final day of the convention during the evening event, the opera.
Mr Green had been working the operation for months with Carpenter, his communications with Shevlenko had all been arranged through Dr Ingolf who in term had enough Skeletons in his closet to easily be used by the CIA. Lynne let all information out, almost breaking down as the realisation set in that she had no one on her side, no contacts she could trust, the planning of the extraction was close to perfect with the exception of opposition forces.
Knowing that Lynne needed to remain safe and continue her plan to extract the granddaughter, Benoit thumbed the number for Carpenter into his phone, hearting the ringer in his earpiece as he did not want the conversation heard by the other occupants of the car.
Carpenter’s tone was that of a man who was happy to cut ties. Benoit explained that she needed to be placed in a safehouse, Carpenter on the other hand would rather see her disappear, giving Benoit the address of a location where he could disappear her. Not agreeing, Benoit hung up abruptly, looking at Marek in the rear view mirror, shaking his head as Marek glanced at him.
After driving for some time, Benoit pulled the car into a space on the side of the road by a string of well purposed cafes and middle class accommodation. The decision was to keep her safe in a motel that no one knew about. Benoit went into the closest hotel, Marek and Lynne sitting opposite the entrance in a cafe, Marek making sure Lynne had food and drink as her hands had not stopped shaking since the train station. The amount of time needed to finally calm her and have her agree to not run was painful, almost an hour passing before the car stopped.
As Benoit and Marek watched Lynne disappear inside the entrance of the hotel Benoit had just arranged, the two finally stove back to Carrol’s residence. Looking at his watch, Marek reminded Benoit of their meeting with Shevlenko that had been arranged through Popov for 2pm. Both men checked their phones, no cancellations had been sent through, the events of the previous night seeming to have no impact on the ongoing schedule of Shevlenko.
The constant brainstorming of what was the best path to take was exhausting, the doctor office, the Shevlenko meeting, continuing Green’s contingency plan of the opera, so many choices.
Deciding that the meeting with Shevlenko was the only way to determine the value of the information Shevlenko possessed, the most troublesome aspect being that the two of them would be going inside the Russian Embassy, a possible haven for FSB, Lisky Mafia and all manner of eyes for any and all enemies they had made between Vienna and Odessa.
The decision was not an easy one, both men deciding that the Russian Embassy was going to be their only chance to talk with Shevlenko with some sort of privacy. They hadn’t received any communication regarding cancelling the meeting, despite the previous activities of the hotel party.
They couldn’t attempt an extraction at the doctor’s office, Shevlenko was not the kind of man to travel alone, and they would not be able to gain entry to the office with a Russian dignitary inside, the Embassy was their only chance.
Changing into their formal attire, making sure to plan their entry and exit route if they were going to attempt any form of emergency action. A Russian embassy full of FSB and with its on-site private army in the basement, they both agreed that there was slim chance they would make it out alive if it degenerated into a firefight.
The drive to the Embassy was a quiet one, both men choosing easy to reach locations to stowe their pistols and personal weapons. The sweat seemed to hold at each of their hairlines. Marek, thinking about counting the steps from the lobby, to where they would be having the meeting, Benoit on the other hand, focussing on who was armed with what in terms of every man they pass once inside. Pulling the car into one of the spaces reserved for guests, Benoit and Marek both gave each other a slightly worried look as they both breathed deeply before exiting the car.
Moving inside the large revolving glass door, Marek announced his appointment with Shevlenko to the clerk who was busily shuffling paperwork and answering the switchboard calls, pausing from his daily duties to acknowledge the two men who had entered, checking their identification and matching it to his large, open diary..
Ushered to a seat against the wall in a waiting area on the second floor, given coffee by their escort, Marek and Benoit both did their best to look as relaxed as possible as they scanned the room for any signs of alarm, looking for any signs of anything untoward. As the clock moved closer to 2pm, their designated time of appointment, a large wooden door creaked loudly as is swung open, revealing Katarina and Popov, introducing themselves, Marek and Benoit followed the two to another large room, four desks littered around the main space, a glass office in the corner revealing Shevlenko who was on the phone. Katerina pointed to a vacant chair across from the desk that had her name on it, the two sat quietly, waiting for the invitation to meet Shevlenko. Marek scanned the room, the CCTV cameras that hung in the corners of the room seeming to be placed with little concern for concealment, the large red lights on them revealing their position with ease.
Watching as Shevlenko hung up the phone that was pressed to his ear, he opened the door to his office and waved the two towards him, his smile beaming. Entering his office, Marek and Benoit shook his hand as pleasantries were exchanged.
After introductions, Marek was the first to deceptively indicate the meeting's true nature, indicating that both men were due at the airport the following day. Shevlenko offered the men a drink from the bar to the side of his office. Refusing a drink, the insistence of Shevlenko catching Marek off guard, observing the body language of the older man, he was indicating through his obvious eye movements that there was items of importance on the drinks cart, also pointing to the lamp on his desk. Downing the drink quickly, Marek stood to refresh his drink, wandering to the drinks cart, sighting the small microphone against the window sill. Pulling a small frequency jammer from his pocket, Marek began to tune the frequency of the two microphones as to not completely disable them, but distort them enough to make what was being said inaudible.
Sitting back down, Marek nodded to Benoit who began the conversation with Shevlenko. His tone completely changed from the smiling dignitary to serious KGB officer. Beginning the discussion with the events of the Hotel, Shevlenko was not able to shed light on events the two did not already know.
As Shevlenko continued, he indicated that the previous extraction team had not taken into account the arrival of the element that killed them.
Marek interjected, that Shevlenko needed to presume that the two men in front of him knew everything their was to know, the bluff proving to be only partially successful against the sharp mind of a veteran spy who had spent the last half of a century lying for a living.
Shevlenko announced that he was willing to offer the same deal to the two of them that he offered the CIA, successful extraction of his granddaughter and himself in exchange for the information that the CIA wanted. Benoit and Marek probed as hard as they could for what the information was concerned with, the only answers being given, that the focus that took out the CIA team wanted it as badly as the CIA yet they could not get to it for reasons that both Marek and Benoit did not initially understand.
Continuing to the origins of the information, after heavy yet calm questioning from Benoit, Shevlenko told of how the information was discovered decades ago by Shevlenko’s old accomplice, Kim Philby during his time in the middle east. However Philby was unable to action it as he was nearly expired, passing the information onto Shevlenko as he drew his final breaths, the information not directly related to what destroyed the CIA team, but something they wanted to use. An amulet was also a focal point of Shevlenko’s explanation, the only reason those responsible for the CIA team’s demise had not forcefully taken the information from Shevlenko, an amulet in his possession kept them at bay.
Marek, ever the pessimist, smiling not only to maintain a look of polite business to those outside the glass windows keeping watch, but choking down laughter at the notion of Shevlenko’s supernatural explanation.
Shifting the conversation to the topic of Shevlenko’s doctor, Benoit explained the analysis of the blood sample, the obvious irregularities. All information that Benoit shared was repeated by Shevlenko, using the information to support his primary accusation of what the two were up against, Vampires.
The very mention of the name caused Marek to stand and swallow his laughter, Benoit on the other hand remaining seated and searching his mind for a more realistic explanation. Marek rejoined Benoit, choosing to indulge the old man across the desk from him. Shevlenko continued, his distaste for the two men became apparent as he compared them to children with a sheltered life and no experience outside their own front door.
Shevlenko continued to press how the extraction was completely unknown to anyone outside the unsanctioned CIA team, the mention from Benoit of the blood in Shevlenko’s doctor’s office turned the conversation. Shevlenko's expressions changed as he pieced his own puzzle together, how he was discovered.
Re-engaging with the theory, Marek spoke of the events of Odessa, the sights they had seen regarding the Doctor they witnessed injecting corpses, the large black clad figures who moved like ghosts and did not die. Shevlenko had no knowledge of the names that Marek started spinning, Dr Dorjiev, Danilo Brigovic, he was lost in the names. He expressed that he did not believe that they were connected to the conspiracy of Nosferatu he had encountered. This caused a shift in Marek’s thinking, noting to himself the Odessa discoveries.
Indulging Shevlenko’s desire to push the conversation in the direction of Vampires, Marek and Benoit spoke in what would appear to be jest, jet began the line of questioning seeking answers. How to destroy a Vampire, asking Shevlenko what will work, traditional means such as stakes and sunlight, holy water and silver, effectiveness of Catholic to Protestant religions. Shevlenko made it clear that the amulet in his possession was the only thing protecting him, yet its deterrent power was waning. Curling his lip as he spat the answers that he could, Shevlenko grew impatient of the questioning, returning to how the two men were going to get him out of the country without alerting the FSB detail always at his side.
Benoit recounted his experience of the night that the CIA agents were killed, Shevlenko’s nurse, Zhenya was keeping his bodyguard out of the barn, Benoit suggesting her knowledge and involvement in the conspiracy. Shevlenko took a moment as the news of this took him by surprise, agreeing that questioning her would not be possible within the walls of the Embassy, and with no plans to leave the Embassy until the Opera on the last day of the conference, with the exception of the cancelled appointment with Dr Ingolf at six o’clock.
As time ran out for the basic meeting time scheduled in Shevlenko’s calendar, Marek and Benoit did their best to form some sort of agreement with Shevlenko. Extraction when possible yet without the removal of whoever was watching him beyond his FSB detail, the only protection available according the Shevlenko, the amulet in his possession, the two made no promise of success, yet gave Shevlenko their contact details in case any plans changed.
Safely exiting the Embassy, Marek scoffed at Benoit who was clearly more pulled in to Shevlenko’s story. Marek indulged the notions of Vampires, stating that he would search Carrols apartment for silver, suggesting that melting it down and coating bullets was a good start. Benoit on the other hand was obsessed with finding the biggest ultraviolet light possible.
The drive back to Carrol’s residence was full of arguments and plans, the frustration and jest of the topics discussed causing Marek and Benoit to grow more and more angry with their lack of information and direction.
Benoit picked up his phone and called Carpenter, his request was simple, firepower. Carpenter protested greatly to the request of any form of hardware bigger than a pistol, Benoit’s request for sub machine guns causing all manner of stress. When exhausting his request, he then continued to request information regarding Simon Thonradel to whom Carpenter had no immediate knowledge, Benoit requesting he do some digging.
Marek took to his computer and phone as he could hear one side of Benoit’s conversation regarding Carpenter’s objections. He dialled the number for Mr Happy, the same request for hardware that was optimistically received, he would reach out to see if anything could be done on short notice.
Benoit’s phone rang almost immediately after hanging up from Carpenter, Shevlenko’s voice coming through. He advised that after the recent events, he would be keeping his 6pm appointment at his doctor’s office. Benoit relayed the message to Marek who immediately took an interest, thinking that this was either the extraction plan, or a way to access Zhenya outside the Embassy. As Benoit hung up the phone, both men checked their watches, less than two hours until the appointment and both needed to get themselves ready.
*
The Audi was parked a short distance up the street from the office of Dr Ingolf, Benoit and Marek both looking for anything that resembled a government vehicle. Approximately five minutes before the clocks began to chime six o’clock, a black sedan came to a stop outside the main entrance to the office. Benoit watched closely, sighting a woman exit the car and hastily run inside the office, all alone and without any form of assistance. Both men exited the car, both now dressed in casual clothing and walked quickly towards the doctor’s front door.
Marek pushed the buzzer to the office, a female voice answered the intercom, Marek thinking on his feet and expressing that he was sent as an envoy for Shevlenko. After a brief pause, the door opened and an older lady appeared before them with a slight look of confusion on her face. Allowing the two of them inside, Benoit pushed past Marek and took the older lady by the arm, gripping it tightly as he moved her forcefully through the empty waiting room. Benoit’s demeanour was intense, demanding to know where the woman who entered moments earlier was. A slight yelp of fear as she pointed to the door to Dr Ingolf’s consulting room. The receptionist knocked on the doctor’s door before opening it to see Zhenya with her back towards the door. As she turned to see Benoit and Marek, Zhenya lunged for her handbag that was on the ground by her seat. Marek moved quickly to engage her, grabbing her forearm before she reached whatever she was looking for. The touch of Marek on her forearm causing her to move into an aggressive posture, although seated, she lunged with her free hand, punching Marek directly in the groyne.
At the sight of Marek recoiling, Benoit pushed the receptionist to the floor and drew his glock quickly on Zhenya who in turn froze as the barrel of the 9mm pistol was pointed directly at her face.
Sitting her down across the desk from the doctor, Marek gradually regained his composure, slumping into the second chair next to Zhenya. The receptionist also regained her feet and joined Dr Ingolf on the far side of the desk.
Benoit began his interrogation, demanding answers from Zhenya at gunpoint. She demonstrated to them clearly that she was no ordinary nurse, she was a trained FSB agent, both men knowing that if they wanted every piece of information, it was going to take days. Marek drew his blade from his belt, turning it in his hand so that it was braced for a reverse stab as he looked at Zhenya with a dead stare.
She refused to answer any form of questions regarding the events of the CIA extraction, any information regarding Simon Thonradel, she was trained well. Marek felt the need for urgency, placing his knife directly above the joint of her knee, the tip of the knife resting on the exterior of her business pants, yet its sharp point itching the skin. Repeating the question under the threat of never walking properly again, Zhenya again remained quiet.
Benoit’s phone buzzed to life as Albert Carpenter’s voice sounded in his ear. Simon Thonradel, appeared to be an alias, yet photos of him showed he liked the company of certain types of woman, each photo showing a different woman on his arm, all with dark hair and green eyes. Three of the women he had been photographed with had been reported missing in the past months. Carpenter could not confirm anything regarding Simon being involved as he travels in private planes and private convoys. The disappeared women, one an actress, another a drama student the third being a prostitute.
Hanging up the phone, Benoit confirmed that they had received the information, and Benoit moved closer to Zhenya. Marek continued his hurried interrogation, spinning his knife so that it penetrated the material of her pants at her knee.
Zhenya began to speak briefly, confirming that she would not talk, as she was more frightened of the FSB and linked Linsky Maria, also that she was more fearful of who they worked for, meaning Shevlenko’s theory than she was of the two men in front of her.
Benoit offered her safe passage until the end of the event in Vienna, desperate for information. Zhenya began to loosen her tongue, advising that it needed to be clean, she needed to be seen as having spoken to no one, that she was not the leak. Agreeing to her terms, Marek and Benoit promised her safe passage and protection in exchange for any information on Simon Thonradel.
Giving them an address of an abandoned factory on the outskirts of Vienna, Zhenya told of how the location was little more than a feeding ground, it was the location that the involved parties would place his food.
Conversing with her was not easy, she clearly knew what Simon Thonradel was, what Rachov was, yet she spoke to Benoit and Marek as if she was talking to dead men. Her frustration clearly visible as she barely made eye contact with either man.
Benoit looked up from Zhenya and shocked Dr Ingolf by inviting him into the conversation. Confronting the doctor, Ingolf professed to know nothing, that he did not see anything by way of the interrogation he had just witnessed, that he would say nothing at all.
Benoit pulled Zhenya to her feet, forcing her towards the car, pausing briefly to look at Marek, before motioning to the Doctor and receptionist who remained in the office.
Marek rose from his chair, his groyne feeling slightly better than it had previously. Looking directly at the two in front of him, Marek spoke softly to them, firstly that they would not talk without consequence, knowing that they were doomed no matter what happened, Marek also apologised before turning and exiting the office.
Marek entered the drivers seat, Benoit and Zhenya already occupying the back seat. Benoit did not take his gaze off Zhenya as Marek drove them to where Lynne had booked herself in. As the three made their way to the room, Marek knocked on the door, as it was opened by the rookie CIA agent, Benoit shoved Zhenya across the threshold. As Zhenya stood still in the centre of the room defiantly, Benoit stepped towards her, before she could react, she felt his rigid boot slam into the side of her knee.
Falling to the floor, feeling the ligaments and tendons in her knee snap and tear, Zhenya did her best to stifle her scream before Benoit was on her again, dragging her across the room and securing her to the visible radiator pipes. Lynne was shocked, Marek informing her of the need to secure her until further notice and that the plans for the airport were not to be disturbed. Nodding sheepishly, Lynne agreed before Watching both men leave the quiet room, she turned to face Zhenya who was tied to the corner, her frightened eyes met with a gaze of fear, will and loathing.
Tuesday, November 15, 2022
Chapter 6: Ballrooms and Bad Judgement
Benoit pulled the Audi to a halt outside the main entrance of the restaurant, his phone buzzing as his earpiece came to life, Marek confirming that he was across the street in an observative role.
Benoit waited in the entryway to the restaurant, his call waiting revealed Carpenter was calling, switching between calls, Benoit was instructed to meet his MI6 contact around the side of the restaurant, the side street being a dimly lit pathway, barely able to fit a vehicle.
Signalling Marek from across the street as he spoke to Carpenter, Benoit made it very clear that the keys to the car were still inside.
Disappearing down the side street, Benoit vanished from view as Marek made his way to the best possible position to see the door of a very standard Peugeot close. Moving quickly to the Audi, Marek turned the ignition over and began his long distance tail of the Peugeot.
Benoit was nervous, feeling unprepared, his arm bracing on the window sill, the other, hidden from Carpenter’s view, fingers touching the grip of the Glock 19 at his hip. The conversation was less than informative, Carpenter referring to the same phrases and answers, all along the same lines of that there would be a simple stake out position with minimal activity.
Driving a short distance outside the main city, the large mansions and private roads of wealthy families and individuals filled the horizon. As the car continued outside the city, the dimly lit wide streets became less and less populated by cars, mainly due to the enormous driveways that led into the courtyards of these mansions, no cars permitted to park on the street.
Slowing as he turned down a dark road and taking a left into a driveway that began a steep ascent, the Peugeot rolled a few metres uphill before being stopped by a dark iron gate. Putting the car in park, Carpenter turned the engine off as he cracked the windows, announcing that this was the spot for the night. Pulling out a thermos from behind his seat Carpenter poured himself and Benoit some tea, advising Benoit that he was not to interfere with anything that was to take place, or else risk being exposed as a potential liability moving forward. Agreeing to the terms, Benoit took the tea and began to sip slowly.
As Benoit looked around, he spied the Audi drive down the same road, moving past without pause and disappearing down the other end of the wide road.
Carpenter drew Benoit’s attention to the large estate across the road behind where the car was parked, a huge establishment in the distance, past the stone walls and elegant gates.
Marek continued down the wide road, looking for somewhere to park inconspicuously, however finding himself on a road with no street parking, he turned his attention to how to best circle the streets to familiarise himself with them in case he needed to make a quick exit. As Marek listened intently to his earpiece and listening the what Benoit and Carpenter were looking at, Marek continued to drive towards where he could see traffic, a long line of cars appearing in front of him pulling into the main driveway of the Hotel Europe, the location of the high society event mentioned to him after the Shevlenko seminar.
Benoit watched the large estate closely, it was clear he was looking at the rear of the establishment, its grounds well lit considering the time of night, enquiring of Carpenter where they were, his voice still coming through clearly in Marek’s earpiece.
Leaving the car to stretch his legs, binoculars in hand, Benoit watched the rear windows of the Hotel Europe closely, speaking softly to Marek, advising of his location and what he could see, he was relieved to hear the Marek had followed the traffic into the Hotel was at the valet stand, leaving the Audi and moving towards the front entrance.
The sight of guests being wanded by security caused Marek to pause a moment, it was too late for him to leave his firearm in the car, it was already being driven to the parking structure. As he pulled a silver cigarette case from his inner jacket pocket, he walked casually around the front gardens, tapping a cigarette on the case as he wandered. Taking his chance, he moved swiftly, removing the pistol and holster from his inner waistband and placing it between two large rocks, invisible to someone not looking specifically for anything out of place.
Breathing a side of relief, he moved towards the security guards for mandatory wanding, listening the the complaints of the other CEO’s who were taking offence to being so thoroughly checked over. The wand buzzed to life as it waved under his arm, security giving a stern look to each other as Marek removed the cigarette case, the wand moving again with no sound.
Confirming in Benoit’s ear that he was unarmed but inside, Marek took a glass of champagne as he moved to the rear window of the Hotel, advising of the window and if he could confirm visually that he was visible. Benoit smiled as he could see the familiar shape of Marek drinking from a champagne flute, his stance very much that of someone who fitted the surroundings.
Carpenter also exited the Peugeot, he denied every request from Benoit to move closer or change position for a better angle. Benoit felt powerless to give any sort of assistance as Marek asked for any intelligence that could help him in moving through the grounds.
Marek scanned the room in front of him, the clock chiming 11pm as he sighted Shevlenko shaking hands with dignitaries from several nations, his familiar four compatriots scattered around the large room. Continuing to scan the room, Marek made note of many of the dignitaries who were mingling with each other, some disappearing into rooms that contained numerous forms of entertainment, on the right hand side of the large space, a room full of billiard tables, another with black jack and poker tables. To the left, the sound of roulette wheels spinning filled the air, the thick cigar smoke leaking out of the ceiling door frame.
As Marek continued to watch Shevlenko, he noticed that his behaviour was very different from previously seen at the auditorium where he had his lecture. Sipping on bottled mineral water, Shevlenko appeared far more animated. The four minders also moved around the room, taking shifts on who had eyes on Shevlenko, however wherever possible, Shevlenko would watch them as much as he they watched him, when the coast was clear, he would quickly down a Champagne flute full to the brim, just like a naughty child sneaking a cookie.
A mix of laughter and cursing drew Marek’s attention to the room where the roulette tables were spinning. Refreshing his drink as he entered, immediately Marek noticed a strange, older man against the far wall of the room. Dressed in a Tuxedo, however severely outdated, as if it was the height of fashion in the 1960’s, the man was also scanning the room. Marek made sure that the man saw him as he raised a glass briefly to the man. The well dressed gentleman returned Marek’s gaze, however the look in his eyes was intense, as if threatening, then turning his attention to the waiters who served him by name ‘Rachov’, yelling at them that he does not drink. Breaking the eye contact, Marek followed the loud voice of a much younger man who was spinning the roulette wheel, cursing and laughing, the two elegant women who hung off him consumed by his every gesture.
This man was dressed in the latest fashion, he did not appear to Marek to be older than 30, yet his clear disregard for the rest of the room stated that he was clearly used to being the most important person in the vicinity.
Walking back into the main room, Marek’s blood went slightly colder, almost bumping into a familiar face, Naomi Delanie. Now a senior researcher at the world bank, Marek recognised her from his time working within the Polish Special Forces. She had not seen his face in time to recognise him, moving away quickly yet calmly, Marek kept his distance, knowing that she was the only person in the room who could identify him as not the name on his stolen name badge.
Taking up a similar observation position on the other side of the room, closer to the entrance to the billiard room, his eyes fixed back on Shevlenko and his team. His gaze was met by Zhenya, looking directly at Marek, her lips mouthing the words ‘Help Me’.
Identifying the cry for help, Marek immediately moved towards her, placing his hand on her shoulder, excusing himself to the man deep in conversation with her, asking to borrow her for a brief conversation. A sigh of relief took her over, explaining that she could not escape the gentleman she was talking to, a banking official who was doing everything possible to claim her phone number.
Moving away from the man and towards the bar, Zhenya and Marek exchanged pleasantries, struggling to communicate clearly with his brief research into who he was impersonating. Offering to give further assistance if the need should arise again to save her from unwanted conversations, Marek moved to a different section of the bar, ordering himself a Starka.
Benoit continued to watch the exterior of the Hotel, growing impatient with the lack of activity. It was clear to him that his presence had been requested by Carpenter for a reason, yet it continued to escape him as the MI6 Chief remained ever elusive to answering any for of questions. Scanning the windows, Benoit could see what appeared to be Shevlenko, the large frame of his bodyguard unmistakable against the random shapes of politicians and officials. Muttering to himself in an attempt to communicate with Marek inside the building, he earpiece was nearly indecipherable, random words and conversation being drowned out by the classical and somewhat cliche string music playing.
Marek continued to observe the room, deciding if it was a good idea or not to refresh his drink for the second time. As he scanned the faces of the people in quiet conversations with one another, making sure he could keep an eye on his former work colleague Naomi, he noticed that the odd looking man in the outdated Tuxedo was making his way along the back wall, passing by the large windows at the rear of the building. As he continued to observe the older gentleman, his way of walking was strange, more of a shuffle rather than a stride. Moving close to a group of guests who were laughing and smiling, the odd man took a large sniff of the woman closest to him when he thought no one was looking.
Cocking his head as if involuntarily, Marek moved immediately from the bar, walking without purpose through the crowd, yet intently towards the odd behaviour he had just witnessed.
Seeing him coming, the elder gentleman stopped his deep nostril intake and peered sinisterly at Marek who was now within a few metres of him.
Taking another sip of his drink and doing his best to remain controlled, Marek leant towards the man, giving his best directions to the tailors he had seen close to the restaurant where he had first met Carpenter. Marek then turned and moved back towards the bar, remaining tense yet glad to have more space between himself and the gent.
Benoit had his binoculars up to his eyes, however his gaze was elsewhere as he did his best to listen intently to the voices and statements coming through his earpiece. Looking back through the windows of the large space, Benoit scanned for Marek and who he was exchange words with, yet all he saw were the walls between large glass panels.
Carpenter tapped Benoit on the shoulder, telling him it was time to stop focusing on his phone call as some friends from Langley were about to begin carrying out their task shortly.
Shocked at the news, Benoit listened intently to Carpenter, the inter agency communication placed MI6 on a purely support status for whatever was going to happen. Asking more questions about the objective of the American visitors, Carpenter remained tight lipped on the subject, his only explanation being that this was the exit point for the operation.
Marek was now looking for his former friend, eventually spying Naomi in conversation with the loud and arrogant man seen previously at the roulette tables. Marek made his same actions as he had with Zhenya, asking to borrow the lady for a brief moment, offended at the gesture the arrogant man gave a frightful and angry look before refusing to allow the conversation to be interrupted. Naomi recognised Marek almost immediately, assuring the gentleman that she would be right back with him. The gentleman stated that his interaction with Marek was not concluded.
The news of Langley operatives being relayed into Marek’s earpiece gave him little time to generate any form of story that would be credible to Naomi. Finding a quieter corner of the room, she looked shocked to see him, glancing at his name badge in confusion. Marek did not have time to explain, his only words to her being that he was working, Naomi knowing that he had dropped off the grid in terms of military service. Advising her to keep alert as something was about to happen, he could not say more as his own information was severely limited. Naomi nodded, her expression somewhat shocked, yet understanding, she returned to the gentleman she had previously been conversing with who in tern shot Marek a look of malice.
Simon Thonradel, the man Naomi had been speaking to, an aristocrat who’s family went back generations in terms of finance, Marek asked Naomi as he was having trouble placing the face.
Carpenter looked at his watch intently, moving back towards the front seat of the car, he pulled a small, black electronic box from under his seat and plugged it into the car radio. The box lit up, radio frequencies visible on the front display. Scrolling through the frequencies, within moments, Russian voices started coming through clearly. Benoit realised that he was now listening to the secure frequency between Shevlenko’s guards, Shevlenko deep in discussion with Katarina, going through the schedule for the next day. Appointments with Prince Sattan of Saudi Arabia had been moved from the morning to the evening, appointments with the ‘Doctor’ to be confirmed.
Watching them move, Benoit could see that Shevlenko and his team were moving across the grassy grounds, following the pathways and lights towards what looked like a stable and several parked cars.
Signalling to his team that he needed a rest, Shevlenko sat down on one of the several benches that lined the pathway. As he sat, Shevlenko signalled for Zhenya, and within moments, Sebastian Popov was moving briskly back towards the rear entrance of the hotel. Benoit zoomed in on Popov as he passed straight past Marek who was standing on the stone slaps of the rear landing. Whispering to Marek through his phone line to stay on Popov, Marek acknowledged and turned to move back inside.
Turning back to Shevlenko, it was clear to Benoit that Shevlenko was having some sort of medical issue. Carpenter spoke confidently that the time had come for the operation to commence, Benoit feeling the tension rising.
Popov was demanding the keys to Shevlenko’s car, his voice hurried as it sounded through the radio for Benoit to hear. Katarina’s voice came back through the radio, demanding to know where the vehicle was, an argument breaking out about how quickly it can be accessed. Shevlenko stood again, pointing to the stables, expressing a desire to go and sit inside. As Shevlenko moved towards the stables, his voice was almost inaudible over the radio as it was coming through Katarina’s device, who in turn began to run towards the main Hotel, a burst of information across the radio frequency increased in volume, Katarina’s voice ordering Popov to get the car and she was getting paramedics.
As Benoit did his best to keep Marek appraised of the evolving situation, Marek had taken his own valet ticket out of his pocket at had taken up a position behind Popov as if also waiting for his vehicle.
Shevlenko, Zhenya and Taras all moved towards the stable, at that moment, the Russian frequency went dead, interference taking over.
Katarina had signalled the staff at the rear entrance who immediately sprang into action, mere seconds later, two paramedics emerged from a service entrance on the eastern side of the building, racing towards the stables.
Benoit was fixed to his binoculars, shifting his gaze from his right hand side, where the stables were located, moving left to the main house, then further left to where the paramedics were now visible. As his gaze moved back and forward, Benoit stammered for a moment, thinking that he had spotted something moving that was out of place. Moving back to the spot he believed he had seen something, only to find shadows swaying against the grass.
Moving back towards the stables, Zhenya was standing at the doorway, her had pressed firmly against the chest or Taras, the giant who was clearly angry. He was trying to get inside while Zhenya held him back, Benoit scanning the access doors to the stables, making sure there was no other cause for concern, the paramedics now moving to where the path to the stables split from where Shevlenko had first sat down.
Benoit jumped as he heard the familiar sound of gunfire, two shots rang out, then a burst of automatic fire before silence again. Benoit called into his phone, informing Marek of shots being fired. Not the only person advised, the security personnel all sprang to life, their wired radio earpieces causing them to unsling their compact sub machine guns and move in defensive positions. Chaos took over briefly as dignitaries were being rushed to the exit, politicians were scrambling and bankers were taking cover. Marek continued to stand and wait for the valet who had taken his ticket.
Benoit kept his eyes glued on the stables, Taras now visible, pistol in hand, the silence seemed louder than the gunfire. Carpenter was somewhat dumbfounded, confirming that something had gone horribly wrong. Walking away from Benoit, Carpenter pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialling as he paced in circles. Feeling the sweat bead on his forehead, Benoit was constantly talking into his phone, both agreeing that they needed the car as soon as it could be arranged. Frustrated at the now chaotic scene, Marek was being moved out of the way of the private security who were escorting politicians directly to their vehicles without valet assistance. Quickly turning the large fountain that doubled as a turning circle into a traffic jam.
The radio jamming on the Russian frequency had ceased, Katarina’s voice coming through clearly, seeking a situation report.
Benoit watched as the stables came to life, the rear doors opening as Shevlenko staggered back towards the main house from the front doors, his posture appearing to show that he was clearly no longer struggling to stay upright.
Switching his sight to the rear doors of the stable, Benoit felt a cold shiver along the back of his neck as he watched an individual emerge, carrying a body in each hand, gripped by the belt, throwing them into the van that seemed insignificant parked next to the stable. Benoit looked on his shock as the figure moved back inside the stable and emerged again with two more bodies, both also being thrown inside the van before the sliding door slammed shut, the figure climbing in behind the wheel.
Listening to the chaos, Marek watched the commotion of the hurried masses, seizing his moment to rearm himself with his stashed pistol. Seeing the Audi pull up to the entrance, Marek shouted into his phone that he was now mobile and moving back towards where he last saw Benoit.
Carpenter came back towards Benoit asking what he had missed during his call, Benoit frustratedly filled him in with the sight of bodies being loaded into a van, the same van that was now heading towards the exit that the two of them were parked near. Carpenter stammered as he let it slip that four bodies was the number of the entire Langley team contingent. Carpenter turned his frustration inward as he was doing the maths inside his own head, his thoughts being that no one other than himself knew of the involvement of the CIA team.
Carpenter and Benoit both entered the Peugeot as the van exited the rear gate of the property, turning back towards the direction both Benoit and Carpenter had arrived from. Driving at an unrushed pace, the van was in no hurry, Benoit easily keeping at a safe distance.
Marek finally escaped the parked carnage of the turning circle, heading back towards the rear of the grounds, as he raced up the service road, he could see the familiar vehicle that he had observed Popov get behind the wheel of at the entrance to the Hotel, the large Bently emerging from the rear gate and turning towards him, the opposite direction of where Benoit was currently pursuing the van. Discussing in urgent voices, Benoit was requesting that Marek back him up, his description of what he had seen regarding someone throwing bodies around like garbage giving them both immediate flashbacks to their encounter with the giant, black clad figure in the cave.
Not touching the brake as he sped past the Bently, Marek soon took up a follow pattern with Benoit who was keeping his distance from the van ahead of them.
Carpenter had come to the conclusion that he needed to interrogate the driver of the van, Benoit explaining that it was most likely going to be a very difficult task, based on what he had witnessed.
As the van entered the wider roads on their way back towards Vienna, Marek decided to get a better idea of what they were following. As the second lane of the main road opened up, Marek put his foot to the floor, overtaking Benoit then the van before merging back in front of it, his goal being to see in his rear view if the driver of the van was dressed in black fatigues and a hood.
Pulling in front of the van as the Audi entered the bridge across the Danube, Marek backed off his accelerator, peering into the rear view mirror, the driver was not distinguishable at first sight. Watching closely, Marek saw the driver reach up and turn the cabin light on, Simon Thonradel, his smile wide across his face as he slammed his foot on the accelerator and swung the wheel widely, crashing the van through the wall of the bridge and plummeting towards the water below. Shocked at the sight, Marek slammed on the brakes as he watched the face of Simon again and again in his mind, the smirk on his face, the red shine of tail lights in his eyes.
Running to the broken wall, Marek was joined by Benoit and Carpenter just in time to see the brake lights of the van sink below the water of the Danube.
Benoit focussed on the van as Carpenter took out his phone, Marek watched the shore line, scanning for movement. Another bridge some 50 metres down river, Marek called to Benoit, although too slowly for him to see the shadowy figure shimmy up the bridge and disappear over the railing. Benoit shook his head, saying goodbye to Albert Carpenter, climbing back into the Audi with Marek.
*
Driving around for close to an hour, the two men exchanged information regarding what they had not been able to communicate due to the noise of the party, the events in the stable and the van accident. Marek explained that he had the feeling there were people who knew who they were regarding the oddly dressed old man who insisted as much.
Arriving back to Carrol’s residence the two slumped into the armchairs in the living room, Marek pulling his laptop towards him. Benoit rising again an pouring two large glasses of bourbon before sitting back down, placing one in front of Marek.
Opening his secure email, Marek sent through an email to Arnold Gorman, his contact inside the CIA, asking simply for who was in Vienna, more to the point, search and rescue will be needed, asking for any information on how to assist.
Closing his laptop and taking a gulp of Bourbon, Marek slump back in his chair, Benoit leaning forward and letting his thoughts spill out of his mouth, looking for leads to follow and ways to find some form of answers. Running through all possible avenues, do they go back to the scene of the incident, do they follow up Shevlenko’s doctor, his entourage, how is it all connected and what was the CIA’s interest.
Both now standing and pacing around the room, conversing as to how to best find out what they were to do next, deciding they could not go back to the scene, the police would be swarming, politicians in the same vicinity as gun fire, it was an international incident waiting to happen. The conversation then turned to Shevlenko’s doctor, asking themselves as well as each other if the doctor could be the same man as the doctor they had witnessed in the cave. Moving back to his laptop, Marek began running his invasive programs to try and break through the firewalls of Sevastian Popov’s devices in search of who Shevlenko was seeing in Vienna for his medical requirements.
After a brief time and another glass of bourbon, Marek was in, a Doctor Ingolf appeared throughout Shevlenko’s calendar, the address listed a stones throw from the centre of town. Not wanting to waste any time, Benoit pushed for them to go to the doctor’s office immediately, both men were in no mood to sleep, their blood still rushing with adrenaline after the night's activities, the alcohol doing little to negate it.
*
The two approached the address with little caution, a town house in a line of town houses, plaques on almost every front door, doctors here, lawyers there, architects and more as they moved down the clean and well lit street.
Marek entered the door with Dr Ingolf’s name on the plaque, a regular examination office complete with filing cabinets. Getting through the locks as as simple as turning a key for Marek, skimming through the letters and finding Shevlenko’s file; it might as well have been written in Sanskrit for what Marek could understand. Immediately taking photos on his phone of every page, the thick folder took a few minutes to capture. Looking at Dr Ingolf’s computer, Marek could see that his phone was connected to the computer through digital system. Booting up the desktop, Marek broke through the password protection in moments, scrolling through email and correspondence. Scanning through phone records Marek noted that frequent calls were being made to a single number before and after Shevlenko’s appointments.
Once he had copied and downloaded all of the files he thought would be useful, Marek continued to scan the room where Benoit had entered, shaking his head at the lack of useful details found behind the reception desk. Both men looked to a large cabinet against the side wall, opening it up, more documents were shelved within, alongside a small safe. Opening it with minimal issue, Marek swung the door open to reveal two shelves, one containing a small amount of cash and two passports, the lower shelf containing a vile of blood in a small clear stand with a notebook of handwritten notes. Without hesitation, Marek grabbed the blood vial and placed it in his pocket, snapping pictures of every page of the notebook.
Benoit discussed with Marek replacing the vial as not to cause suspicion, finding a similar vial. Marek using his skills as a previous medic to extract Benoit’s blood and fill the vial before placing it back in the safe.
Doing what they could to make everything appear as it was when they arrived, their total time within the doctors office was just under 40 minutes, cleanly exiting the office with copies of medical records, phone records, a vial of blood and a detailed history of Shevlenko’s medical condition.
Finally able to relax for the evening, feeling like they had achieved at least a small measure of success, Benoit headed to the bathroom to take a shower while Marek checked to see if he had received any correspondence from his CIA contact regarding his enquiry, yet nothing had returned.
After Benoit had vacated the bathroom, Marek was next, taking a long shower to do what he could to wash the last few hours of frustration off him before retiring for the night.
*
Benoit’s alarm sounded at 9am, waking both men who rose quickly, both showering and making themselves coffee before reviewing the information gathered the previous night. Marek moved his laptop to the dining table, placing his coffee down next to it. Still waiting for a response from Gorman, he then began looking into the conditions listed in Shevlenko’s file. From what he could gather, also conversing with Benoit, Shevlenko had at some stage in his life been poisoned, causing his heart to sustain damage and he himself not being able to handle much stress.
A common enough tactic for a spy they both thought, unable to be thoroughly interrogated due to the risk of death, both thought this was possibly self inflicted.
Benoit was pacing at the opposite end of the dining table, thinking if he should involve any further parties given that Albert Carpenter was less than helpful in the situation of the previous evening. Deciding that his knowledge and the knowledge of Marek was not enough when it came to the medical field, Benoit openly volunteered to have the blood and notes analysed by a former work colleague. A former associate of the French Special Forces and now a medical examiner for the Paris Gendarmerie, Violet Laurent, a supporter of Benoit during his removal from the GIGN.
Marek did not argue, giving Benoit control of the computer to reach out to Violet via email, sending through the notebook and medical reports pertaining to Shevlenko, asking for any and all assistance.
Turning his attention to the phone records he had copies, Marek began analysing the phone calls made before and after each Shevlenko appointment that was coming and going from the doctors office. The HOTEL CENTRAL was where the calls were going to and coming from. A backpacker style hotel for the accommodation of tourists. A concrete building for the traveller on a small budget. Making note of the number ending in 406, the only difference from the main number being that reception ended in 000. Whoever was making and receiving those calls was in either room 406 or on the fourth floor, room 6. Benoit was again edgy about the news, receiving calls prior to an appointment and the calls being returned after the appointment, clear signs that the doctor was relaying some form of information to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Both decided to follow the thread and move on to the Hotel.
As the Audi drove casually towards the location of the hotel, Benoit called Carpenter for an update, he answered promptly. Discussing the potential fallout, Carpenter did not have much to tell, regarding any aftermath, however he did give freely the information regarding the operation. The CIA team consisting of two operatives waiting in the barn, two more dressed as paramedics were there to extract Shevlenko. He was to fake a heart attack and be extracted via ambulance in the custody of the CIA, as a result of the actual events, everything had been turned on its head, Shevlenko was back in the Russian Embassy.
Carpenter stressed his desire to keep Vienna quiet and manageable, the operation going sideways was not to his liking, the police divers pulling four unnamed bodies from the back of the van on the bottom of the Danube also causing him stress. Lastly addressing the action in the stable, bullet holes in a mix of calibres that can be acquired anywhere in Europe, yet no blood was found at the scene.
Dressed in casual attire, Marek and Benoit were both of the mindset that they were potentially walking into a trap. Parking the Audi a block from the Hotel and walking the rest of the way, Marek and Benoit both noticed the CCTV cameras along the street outside the hotel, Marek asked Benoit if they should go in the front door or make their way in silently.
Taking the side door to the laundry room, Marek got through the lock quickly, moving inside as if he were a guest returning to his room. Benoit close behind him, the two began to ascend the staircase, glancing at numbers on the doors, Marek was correct, they were headed to the fourth floor.
Benoit posted up outside the door, drawing his pistol from his waist and keeping it hidden from any guests wandering the hallways. Marek forced the door to room 406 open, also with a pistol in hand. For a hotel designed to house travellers of lesser financial status, the room was spotless, the fresh smell of disinfectant lingering in the air, the two beds made, every surface wiped clean. Clearing the room together, both men noticed adjoining doors on opposite sides of the room, giving each other a nod, Marek moved to the left, Benoit to the right. Opening the doors together, the two room they now found themselves in were similarly spotless. Two beds in each, everything had been cleaned, professionally. Holstering their side arms, Marek and Benoit began searching for any signs of who may have been staying here. As they searched everything, Benoit picked up a waste bin he found on the small balcony to room 406, ashes of burnt paper within, showing Marek who agreed that this was a professional cleaning job.
Benoit pulled his phone back out of his pocket, calling Carpenter in regards to the CIA team. Carpenter’s voice was frustrated as he explained that there was a four man team and a cleaner sent from Langley. Benoit confirmed that there were five members of the CIA team and that they were now standing in their safehouse. Carpenter gave Benoit the details of the cleaner, a woman, Lynne Fineburg, a junior analyst for the CIA, the only way of tracking her, an address for a small accounting business in Vienna.
Marek picked up the Vienna phone index that was next to the room phone, a pen and paper still inside, scanning the pages he noticed a familiar advertisement. CJH Investments, what Marek remembered as a CIA front company from back in the days when he was working with Naomi, marked with a pen and paper in a CIA safehouse, the same business that matched the address given to Benoit by Carpenter.
The conclusion slapped both of them in the face. The Doctor was the CIA contact for Shevlenko. Doctor - Patient confidentiality protects the doctor from the FSB being in the room, and he was sending communications to the CIA who when in Vienna were staying in the rooms Marek and Benoit were now standing in. The only path left to take, find the CIA cleaner who had cleaned the rooms, angry that they had not figured it out sooner, both looked at the phone book, Benoit pointing at the advertisement, stating that was their next stop.
Friday, November 4, 2022
Kim Philby
Born in British India, Philby was educated at Westminster School and Trinity College, Cambridge. He was recruited by Soviet intelligence in 1934. After leaving Cambridge, Philby worked as a journalist, covering the Spanish Civil War and the Battle of France. In 1940 he began working for the United Kingdom's Secret Intelligence Service (SIS or MI6). By the end of the Second World War he had become a high-ranking member. In 1949 Philby was appointed first secretary to the British Embassy in Washington and served as chief British liaison with American intelligence agencies. During his career as an intelligence officer, he passed large amounts of intelligence to the Soviet Union, including a plot to subvert the communist regime of Albania.
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Philby was suspected of tipping off two other spies under suspicion of Soviet espionage, Donald Maclean and Guy Burgess, both of whom subsequently fled to Moscow in May 1951. Philby resigned from MI6 in July 1951. He was publicly exonerated in 1955, after which he resumed his career as both a journalist and a spy for SIS in Beirut, Lebanon. In January 1963, having finally been unmasked as a Soviet agent, Philby defected to Moscow, where he lived until his death in 1988.
Harry St John Philby
Early life
Arabist
In late 1915, Percy Cox recruited Philby as head of the finance branch of the British administration in Baghdad. The position included fixing compensation for property and business owners. The mission was to organise the Arab Revolt against the Ottoman Turks and to protect the oil fields near Basra and the Shatt al Arab, which were a source of fuel for the Royal Navy. The revolt was organised with the promise of creating a unified Arab state, or Arab federation, from Aleppo, Syria, to Aden, Yemen. Gertrude Bell was his first controller and taught him the finer arts of espionage. In 1916 he became Revenue Commissioner for the British Occupied Territories.
In November 1917, Philby was sent to the interior of the Arabian Peninsula as head of a mission to Ibn Saud, the chieftain who professed Wahhabism, the movement within Sunni Islam, and a bitter enemy of Hussein bin Ali, Sharif of Mecca, who led the Hashemites and the Arab Revolt, who were both contenders for "King of the Arabs". Philby secretly began to favour Ibn Saud even though British policy supported Sherif Hussein. Philby completed a crossing from Riyadh to Jeddah by a "backdoor" route to demonstrate that Saud, not Hussein, was in control of the Arabian highlands.
In November 1918, Britain and France issued the Anglo-French Declaration to the Arabs, which promised self-determination. Philby felt there was a betrayal of that assurance, along with others made in the Balfour Declaration and the Sykes-Picot Agreement, of the promise of a single unified Arab nation. Philby argued that Ibn Saud was a "democrat" guiding his affairs "by mutual counsel", as laid out in the Quran, in contrast to George Curzon's support for Hussein. After the 1920 Iraqi revolt against the British, Philby was appointed Minister of Internal Security in Mandatory Iraq.
In November 1921, Philby was named chief head of the Secret Service in Mandatory Palestine, worked with T. E. Lawrence and met his American counterpart, Allen Dulles. In late 1922, Philby travelled to London for extensive meetings with parties involved in the Palestine question, included Winston Churchill, George V, Edward, Prince of Wales, Walter Rothschild, 2nd Baron Rothschild, Wickham Steed and Chaim Weizmann.
Adviser to Ibn Saud
Philby's view was that the interests of both the British and the Saud family would be best served by uniting the Arabian Peninsula under one government stretching from the Red Sea to the Persian Gulf, with the Saudis supplanting the Hashemites as Islamic "Keepers of the Holy Places" and protecting shipping lanes along the Suez Canal–Aden–Mumbai (then Bombay) route.
Philby was forced to resign his post in 1924 over differences about allowing Jewish immigration to Palestine. He was found to have had unauthorised correspondence with Ibn Saud and to have sent confidential information, which carried with it the connotation of espionage. Shortly afterward, Ibn Saud began to call for the overthrow of the Hashemite dynasty, with Philby advising him on how far he could go in occupying Arabia without incurring the wrath of the British, the principal power in the Middle East. In 1925, Philby claimed that Ibn Saud had brought unprecedented order into Arabia.
Philby settled in Jeddah and became a partner in a trading company. Over the next few years, he became famous as an international writer and explorer. Philby personally mapped on camel back what is now the Saudi–Yemeni border on the Rub' al Khali. In his unique position, he became Ibn Saud's chief adviser in dealing with the British Empire and the other Western powers. He converted to Islam in 1930 In 1931, Philby invited Charles Richard Crane to Jeddah to facilitate exploration of the kingdom's subsoil oil. Crane was accompanied by noted historian George Antonius, who acted as translator.
In May 1932, Standard Oil of California (SoCal) sought out Philby in its quest to obtain an oil concession in Saudi Arabia, ultimately signing Philby as a paid adviser to SoCal. Philby, in turn, recognised that competition by foreign interests would get a better deal for the Saudi king, made contact with George Martin Lees, the chief geologist of the Anglo-Persian Oil Company, to alert him to SoCal's interest in gaining oil exploration rights in Saudi Arabia. Anglo-Persian was one of five international partners in the Iraq Petroleum Company (IPC) through which it pursued its interest in the Saudi concession. In March 1933, IPC sent a representative, Stephen Longrigg, to join negotiations with the Saudi government in Jeddah. However, Philby's primary loyalty was to the Saudi king. Although he was being paid by SoCal, he kept the arrangement a secret from Longrigg. In May 1933, IPC instructed Longrigg to withdraw from Jeddah and to leave SoCal free to conclude negotiations with Saudi Arabia for a 60-year contract to obtain the exclusive concession for exploration and extraction of oil in the al-Hasa region along the Persian Gulf.
By 1934, in an effort to safeguard the port of Aden, Britain had no fewer than 1,400 "peace treaties" with the various tribal rulers of the hinterlands of what became Yemen. Philby undermined British influence in the region, however, by facilitating the entry of American commercial interests, followed by a political alliance between the US and the Saud dynasty.
In 1936, SoCal and Texaco pooled their assets together into what later became ARAMCO (Arabian–American Oil Company). The United States Department of State described ARAMCO as the richest commercial prize in the history of the planet.[9] Philby represented Saudi interests. In 1937 when the Spanish Civil War broke out, Philby arranged for his son, Kim Philby, to become a war correspondent for The Times.
Philby later began secret negotiations with Germany and Spain on Saudi Arabia's role in the event of a general European war. The discussions allowed neutral Saudi Arabia to sell oil to neutral Spain, which would then be transported to Germany. John Loftus, who worked in the United States Department of Justice Office of Special Investigations Nazi-hunting unit, claimed that Adolf Eichmann, on a mission to the Middle East, met with Philby "during the mid-1930s".
Philby Plan
Philby, then known as an anti-Zionist, outlined a plan to reach a compromise with Zionism, after consultation with Arab leaders, and it was reported in The New York Times in October 1929. The Philby Plan foresaw a shared confirmation of the Balfour Declaration and continued Jewish immigration into Palestine in exchange for a renunciation by Zionists of any desire to seek political dominance. Representation of the two groups would be based on respecting the numerical proportions between both groups. Judah Magnes, chancellor of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and a member of Brit Shalom, reacted to the proposal positively, and suggested alterations in order to secure guarantees for the Jewish minority.
As related in his memoirs, David Ben Gurion, who would become Israel's first prime minister, met Philby on 18 May 1937 at the Athenaeum Club, London. Ben Gurion attempted to use Philby as an intermediary to reach an agreement between the Zionist Movement and King Ibn Saud. A few days after their meeting, Philby sent to Ben Gurion a draft treaty by which the Zionists would renounce the Balfour Declaration in exchange for being welcomed to the Middle East by an Arab Federation, headed by Ibn Saud. However, several clauses of the draft treaty were unacceptable to Ben Gurion. In particular, Philby had proposed that Palestine would be "open to the immigration of all those seeking to become its citizens, regardless of race and creed" and refused to mention specific Jewish immigration. To Ben Gurion, that would have defeated the whole aim of Zionism. Ben Gurion sent Philby a counterproposal based on what Ben Gurion regarded as the indispensable minimum Zionist aspirations to which Philby never replied.
Philby, previously a member of the Labour Party, fought a by-election held on 20 July 1939 for the parliamentary constituency of Hythe, Kent. He stood for the anti-Semitic British People's Party and declared "no cause whatever is worth the spilling of human blood" and the "protection of the small man against big business". He lost his deposit. Soon afterward, the Second World War began. He is recorded as having referred to Adolf Hitler as un homme très fin ("a most sophisticated man").
When he travelled to Bombay, he was arrested on 3 August 1940 under Defence Regulation 18B, deported to England and there briefly interned. Shortly after his release from custody, Philby recommended his son, Kim, to Valentine Vivian, MI6 deputy chief, who recruited him into the British secret service. When Harold B. Hoskins of the United States State Department visited Ibn Saud in August 1943, he asked if the king would be willing to have an intermediary meet with Chaim Weizmann. Ibn Saud angrily responded that he was insulted by the suggestion that he could be bribed for £20 million to accept resettlement of Arabs from Palestine. Hoskins reports the king said Weizmann told him the promise of payment would be "guaranteed by President Roosevelt". A month later Weizmann wrote in a letter to Sumner Welles: "It is conceived on big lines, large enough to satisfy the legitimate aspirations of both Arabs and Jews, and the strategic and economic interests of the United States;... properly managed, Mr. Philby's scheme offers an approach which should not be abandoned".
Suez Crisis
After Ibn Saud died in 1953, Philby openly criticised the successor, King Saud, by saying the royal family's morals were being picked up "in the gutters of the West". He was exiled to Lebanon in 1955. There, he wrote:
the true basis of Arab hostility to Jewish immigration into Palestine is xenophobia, and instinctive perception that the vast majority of central and eastern European Jews, seeking admission... are not Semites at all.... Whatever political repercussions of their settlement may be, their advent is regarded as a menace to the Semitic culture of Arabia... the European Jew of today, with his secular outlook... is regarded as an unwelcome intruder within the gates of Arabia.
In Beirut, he reconciled with Kim, and they lived together for a time. The son was reemployed by MI6 as an outside informer on retainer. Philby helped further his son's career by introducing him to his extensive network of contacts in the Middle East, including Lebanese President Camille Chamoun. Both were sympathetic to Gamal Abdel Nasser during the Suez Crisis in August 1956. Between Jack's access to ARAMCO and Kim's access to British intelligence, there was little they did not know about Operation Musketeer, the French and British plan to capture the Suez Canal. The Soviets exposed the entire plan in the United Nations and threatened Britain and France with "long-range guided missiles equipped with atomic warheads".
In 1955, Philby returned to live in Riyadh. In 1960, on a visit to Kim in Beirut, he suddenly became ill and was rushed to hospital. "The man whose life had been so eventful and panoramic, so daring and theatrical, now lay unconscious. He awoke only for a moment and murmured to his son, 'I am so bored'. And then he expired". He is buried in the Muslim cemetery in the Basta district of Beirut. His tombstone reads, "Greatest of Arabian Explorers".
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