“That Aleksis Katzev?” Blancanales asked.
“The same,” Price said. She touched a key and the image of Russia’s strong-man president appeared on the plasma screen. “Aleksis Katzev. President of Russia. Former KGB operative, rumored to have Spetsnaz special forces training. Also linked to the deaths of several political rivals, often by poisoning, none successfully traced to Katzev or his operatives.”
“In other words,” Encizo said, “not a very nice man.”
“No,” Brognola put in. “Specifically, Katzev has been rattling sabers for months now, talking about recovering the glory days of the Soviet Union, and using the United States as the scapegoat that will pull the Russian people back together against a common foe. We believe Katzev is receiving funding from several known terrorist organizations, in fact, though the Triangle is by far his biggest investor.”
“What do you mean by ‘rattling sabers,’ Hal?” T. J. Hawkins asked.
“Russian naval assets and air power have been buzzing U.S. planes and ships in international waters off Russia for some time now,” Brognola said. “The hostilities are growing. Katzev gives a fiery speech just about every week on state television out of Moscow, too, usually working in references to the Great Satan that is the United States.”
“Sounds like an old script,” Calvin James said.
“But it works,” Brognola said. “Tensions between the U.S. and Russia are at an all-time high, and diplomatic relations are getting very close to breaking down. There’s some chance that this will subside after the elections, but there are no guarantees, and if Katzev secures another term, we have no way of knowing just how far he’ll take this.”
“The Triangle,” Delahunt said, “apparently hopes to expand its operations farther into Russia, which is what it gains by funding Katzev. Katzev has strong ties to the Russian mafiya, and the Triangle won’t make any inroads without their say-so. They’re violent, but the mafiya are no strangers to protecting their turf. We all know just how interwoven organized crime is with Russian society. We’re basically seeing the opening steps of a business merger in the making.”
“That’s a merger we need to prevent,” Price said. “There is, however, some hope that Katzev’s hold on Russia can be broken. He faces a hard fight in the country’s imminent national elections.” She tapped a key, and another man appeared on the plasma screen. He was younger, perhaps early forties, and dressed in a neatly tailored suit. “This is Yuri Andulov,” Price said. “He’s an experienced diplomat and a known friend to the West. He’s got a growing base of support in Russia. Polling data is unreliable and shows heavy favoritism to Katzev, the incumbent, but we believe Andulov may very well be slightly ahead.”
“The problem,” Brognola said, “will be keeping him alive until the elections occur. Katzev’s enemies have a way of dropping dead from mysterious food poisonings or other ailments. One got cancer rather suddenly. Another disappeared completely, along with his family. Katzev plays for keeps, and it seems very doubtful he intends to go head to head with Andulov at the ballot box—not if he can take him out before it comes to that.”
“More than one attempt has been made on his life, in fact,” Price said. “To now, his bodyguards have kept him out of harm’s way, but the assassins only have to succeed once.”
“I don’t have to tell you,” Brognola said, “that Katzev’s term of office has marked very difficult U.S.-Russia relations. Andulov could turn that around, normalize things between the two countries, and bring Russia back from the brink of open war with the West. Another Katzev term, by contrast, will very well take us to that precipice.”
“Are you saying we’ve taken an active interest in eliminating Katzev?” McCarter asked.
“No,” Brognola said, “only in exposing Katzev’s link to the Triangle. The rest will take shape on its own, provided Andulov isn’t murdered before he can take office.”
“It smacks of nation-building, Hal,” McCarter said.
“No.” Brognola shook his head. “That is not what we do. But Katzev is an active threat to United States’ interests, and he is linked to a violent criminal organization. If that link comes to light, if Katzev’s activities are exposed and if we can put a stop to whatever he might be doing in conjunction with those activities, it is in everyone’s best interests that we do so.”
“Fair enough,” McCarter said. He traded glances with Carl Lyons, his fellow team leader. Lyons frowned and nodded.
“I do not have to point out,” Brognola said, “the potential for an international incident that this raises. We cannot afford to enflame an already difficult situation where Russia is concerned. Plausible deniability must be the order of the day, even if they know we’re only making a show of it, and we know that they know. The situation in Thailand and Burma might get tricky, too—no government official likes to be accused of being in bed with international organized crime or terrorism. You can count on no local support abroad.”
“Bloody wonderful,” McCarter groused. “Can I assume we will be traveling sterile?”
“You will,” Brognola said. “Your personal weapons, if you have a preference, should prove no problem in the case of sidearms, but use your best judgment. You’ll be issued other operational gear that cannot be traced directly to any specific distributor.”
“Gadgets has consulted with our technical team,” Price said, nodding to Schwarz, “and we will be issuing both Able and Phoenix several pieces of microsurveillance and hacking equipment that should prove useful in your mission. There’s something else, however.” She looked to Tokaido once more.
“We will also be providing all of you with these,” Akira said, holding up a small breathing mask. “It contains microfilter technology. You may encounter very large quantities of drugs and fumes from drugs, especially if destroying caches of narcotics. These masks will protect you from the fumes and filter out the toxins, enabling you to breathe without difficulty.”
McCarter reached across the table for the mask. Tokaido gave it to him, and McCarter turned it over and over in his hands thoughtfully, examining it.
“I want you all to draw equipment from Cowboy and assemble within two hours,” Price directed, referring to John “Cowboy” Kissinger, the Farm’s expert armorer. “Phoenix, we have the first target for you in Thailand. Jack Grimaldi is ready to provide air support and will meet you on the ground there. He’s coordinating the transportation of certain assets.” Grimaldi was Stony Man’s veteran pilot, a capable operator of almost any flying machine, from fighter jets to helicopters.
“And us?” Carl Lyons asked.
“We’ve traced the Triangle’s financial records and uncovered a second facility owned by the holding company that held the lease to the Camden warehouse,” Price told him. “It’s a casino in Atlantic City. You’ll start there.”
“Sounds like fun,” Schwarz said.
“It won’t be,” Lyons said dourly.
“All right, people,” Brognola said. “This is an important operation. The stakes are high. The price paid already…well, it’s been too high. We’re on the job to stop this before it goes any further. A lot is riding on this. The Man has made this our highest priority. Do what you do.”
“Let’s
