Don't Order Dog_ 1(74)
Tom stared quietly back at his brother-in-law. At just thirty-two years old, Alex embodied everything the CIA looked for in an agent. He’d graduated from Penn State with a degree in criminal psychology before joining the Navy and undertaking the grueling task of becoming a SEAL. Despite the ultra-clandestine nature of the SEALs, Tom knew from his gloating sister that Alex had been a well-liked and highly respected commander of his team.
Now, just four years after leaving the Navy and breezing through the CIA entrance exams, Alex was running ops for the agency’s Special Operations Group. He was smart, strong, and, when it came to his career in the agency, unflinchingly driven. He was everything Tom wanted to be, which is exactly why Tom hated him.
“So I take it you did read my last email,” Tom replied.
“Fuck you, Tom. How did you come into this information?”
Tom shrugged. “I don’t get it. Three days ago I sent you an email about a theoretical connection between a series of seemingly unrelated incidents and you didn’t even respond. Now here you are in Flagstaff crawling up my ass and threatening me – your own brother-in-law – with a crime? Why is that?”
“You know why, Tom.”
“No, I don’t,” Tom replied, his mouth forming a smug grin. “That is, unless something happened in Kaliningrad.”
Alex glanced around warily. Apart from a few young women standing by the door of a nearby restaurant, they were alone on the sidewalk. He looked at Tom and nodded slightly. “Keep walking.”
The two men continued down the street.
“Alright Tom, you want the truth? The truth is, you’ve pretty much blown all credibility with me in the last few years. In fact, I consider you to be about one I.Q. point above a goddamn idiot. But the information you presented in your email was compelling enough for me to pay attention. Your theory that the three deaths were linked was a stretch, but against my better judgment I put Kaliningrad on my watch list – just in case something happened.”
Tom nodded his head slowly. “And?”
“OREA confirmed an event this morning.”
Tom knew that OREA, which stood for the Office of Russian and European Analysis, was the CIA’s key intelligence arm overseas. Anything of importance that happened in Europe or Russia inevitably came to the attention of that office first.
“A researcher named Tatyana Aleksandrov was found dead at a laboratory in Kaliningrad. She was unfortunate enough to be in the cafeteria when an explosive device in a vending machine detonated. Half of the building’s second floor is now a fucking open-air patio. Everyone at OREA is scratching their heads over this one. And now, thanks to the fact that I put Kaliningrad on my watch list just a few days before the attack on that shit-hole on the Baltic Sea, my boss is crawling up my ass for answers.”
A bolt of electricity shot through Tom as he stared back at Alex. He was right! His terrorist was real. He’d felt certain of it since uncovering the facts just three nights earlier, but to have the truth confirmed by his brother-in-law made everything now chillingly real. “So what did you tell him?” he asked, forcing the excitement from his voice.
“Not a goddamn thing. Do you think I’m going to tell the Director of Special Operations that my brother-in-law in Arizona came up with this information? Which brings us back to the reason I’m here,” Alex leaned down towards Tom, his dark brown eyes watering from the cold. “You can imagine my surprise when this incident popped up this morning. But the real surprise came when I got my hands on the OREA report stating that the lab is owned by a Russian Oil company called Tyukos.”
Alex paused and looked at Tom, waiting for a response.
Tom stared back at him blankly.
“For chrissake Tom, didn’t you finish your own fucking research? Tyukos is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Petronus.” He slapped his hands together and started walking. “Christ it’s cold here.”
Tom silently collected his thoughts as he fell into step next to Alex. At the next intersection, Alex turned north and began marching up the hill towards the quiet residential neighborhood that bordered the old downtown. Tom followed with his head down, carefully avoiding the patches of muddy snow that threatened to stain his shoes. He glanced over his shoulder once again. “Isn’t your friend supposed to be joining us?” he asked casually.
Alex grunted as he walked ahead. “That depends entirely on you.”
Tom nodded silently at Alex’s reply. It was clear that his brother-in-law was using old-school interrogation techniques to try and frighten him into saying everything he knew, but this was just a façade. Tom had simply supplied Alex with a theory based on available information, and that theory had been proven correct. That was it. The only thing Tom had withheld from Alex was the source of the information that produced the theory. But everyone in the intelligence game, certainly Alex included, knew that sources were not revealed at the risk of losing their trust – and the information that came with it.