“Moscow,” Edric said. “We’re going to Mother Russia.”
Edric paused theatrically, but nobody reacted. This was Charlie Team. They could’ve been told they were going to North Korea and they wouldn’t have blinked, but behind his forced passiveness, Wolfgang’s heart thumped.
Moscow. The heart of enemy country for espionage operatives. The hornets’ nest.
He’d never been, of course, but he imagined Moscow the way he saw it in the movies—grey, cold, locked in ice and snow, and infested with enemy operators with wits and skill sets every bit as sharp as his own.
This is gonna be fun.
“You guys give me nothing,” Edric said, rolling his eyes.
Megan waved a finger. “It’s almost December, Edric, and you’re sending us into an icebox. You want theatrics, call Bravo Team.”
A ripple of laughter erupted, and Edric turned back to the marker board. “Okay, I see how it is. Let’s get down to brass tax, then.”
He wrote, and the room fell silent. “The target is Pasha Koslov, code named Trident. He’s a Russian-born chemist with a specialty in airborne transmission of manufactured agents.”
“Chemical weapons,” Wolfgang said.
Edric nodded. “Essentially, yes. Koslov began his career working with air fresheners for the Russian equivalent of Proctor and Gamble, but his peculiar talents quickly caught the attention of the Ministry of Defense. They”— Edric made air quotes with two fingers—“‘acquired him,’ and he’s been working in Moscow for the past four years, most recently on a project to design new types of chemical weapons that offer higher rates of transmission, penetration of protection equipment, and cost-effectiveness.”
“I thought chemical weapons were illegal,” Kevin said.
“The Geneva Convention outlawed their use in warfare, effective nineteen twenty-eight,” Edric said. “In nineteen ninety-seven, the Chemical Weapons Convention, by power of the United Nations, outlawed the development, production, retention, stockpiling, or acquisition of chemical weapons. So, yes, they’re illegal. Your point?”
Kevin blushed. “I just thought, if we know this guy is developing chemical weapons for Russia, wouldn’t that be a problem for the state department?”
Fair question.
Edric jotted on the whiteboard again. Wolfgang wondered what the point of the whiteboard was. Why couldn’t he just brief them on the details?
“As I mentioned earlier, Koslov is code-named Trident. That name was assigned to him by the CIA, where he has served as an undercover informant for three of the past four years.”
Wolfgang’s mind spun, quickly connecting the dots. “That’s why they can’t involve the state department. American would have to disclose how they got the information, which would self-sabotage their own intelligence efforts.”
“Bingo.” Edric circled a word on the whiteboard and stepped back. “MAD. Mutually assured destruction,” he said. “It’s kept us safe against the Ruskies since Kennedy was in power, and it’s just as effective against chemical warfare as nuclear. If the Russians are willing to risk an international scandal by producing chemical weapons, what else are they willing to risk? The position of the Pentagon is that America is better able to protect herself than the U.N. is. So, for eighteen months, Trident has fed us data on the developments underway in Russia, which has given our scientists time and information with which to build anti-chemical weapons gear, inoculants, and . . . well . . .”
Wolfgang sat forward. “And matching weapons. That’s where MAD comes in, right? They won’t use it on us if we can use it on them.”
“You didn’t hear it from me,” Edric said. “Who knows what the CIA is up to? The bottom line for us is that things in Mother Russia are starting to disintegrate. Koslov wants out. I’m not sure if the pressure has gotten to him, or if the Russians are getting suspicious. Either way, he’s demanding that the CIA extract him immediately, or he’s going public with what he knows.”
“And at this point, that burns America as much as Russia,” Megan said.
“Pretty much. Which is why the CIA made a phone call to their trusty friends at the SPIRE Corporation. Our mission is to extract Koslov from Moscow and deposit him in Minsk, where the CIA will take over.”
Lyle spoke for the first time, pushing his smudged glasses up his nose and leaning forward. “I know I always ask, but why can’t the CIA do their own dirty work?”
Everybody laughed, and Edric motioned to Wolfgang. “You wanna say it this time?”
Wolfgang leaned back. The answer was obvious. It was always the same answer to the same question. “Plausible deniability. If we get caught, the CIA wants to distance themselves from the operation.”
Edric recapped the marker and settled into his chair. “Actually, it’s a little more severe than that. The CIA isn’t just distancing themselves, they’re transferring blame. If our mission goes sideways in Russia, they’re not just going to disown us, they’re going to burn us. The CIA will pin the entire Trident operation on SPIRE.”
The stillness in the room was deathly.
“That’s a risk SPIRE is willing to take?” Megan said.
Edric nodded. “I spoke to the director myself. The CIA is writing an extra-large check for this assignment. A seven-figure check. Charlie Team’s cut has been tripled.”
Kevin let out a low whistle, and Wolfgang sat back. He remembered his last checks from the Cairo and Paris jobs. Together, they were enough to buy the Mercedes and lease a penthouse outside of Saint Louis for a year, with several grand left over. At triple his usual cut, the Moscow job was worth over a hundred grand—more money than Wolfgang really knew what to do with.
But is it worth it?
Wolfgang glanced around the room, watching the dollar signs spin behind Lyle and Kevin’s eyes, but not Megan’s. Hers were deep, and distant, and strong. And so damn beautiful.
It’s absolutely worth it.
“When do we go?” Wolfgang asked.
“The plane is being fueled as we speak,” Edric said. “We fly directly into Moscow, and from there, we make contact with the CIA operator code-named Sparrow. Sparrow is a native Russian brought on by the CIA to be Koslov’s handler. They’ll brief us on Koslov’s
