The Spy I Loved (17 page)

They
might have been thinking of that, as they hadn’t shot up the Land
Rover. They also might have been thinking of talk—a vehicle brought
into a local wrecker’s yard, all shot up, would arouse all kinds of
talk.

The enemy doesn’t want that any more than we do,
in Ian’s assessment.

A
forensics team was out there or soon would be according to Ian.
There was much food for thought here. The best thing to do with the
Land Rover would be to tarp it up and trailer it to a secure
warehouse for examination.

There was
nothing wrong with Ian’s mind. He was second in command, and Liam
liked working with him well enough.

While
they were all on the same mission and working together,
independence of action had always appealed to Liam. If one of them
should be taken out, they all had the most up-to-date information
that could be collected. Each was fully capable of handling a team
of people in the field.

Jenkins
could be a real mastermind, as Liam recalled, sort of humbled for a
moment that he nominally commanded them on this little gig. No one
ever called her Alice for some reason. She had the clearest grey
eyes he’d ever seen on a person.

He got
Ian back on the phone a short time later.

After all
information had been assessed, they had two dead enemy operatives
confirmed. Ian was convinced he’d at least tagged one.

“
One drop of blood and at least three separate and distinct
sets of tracks. The odds are they won’t go to hospital for
treatment. They’d just use their own skills, let him die, or off
him themselves.”

That
seemed reasonable. Three people in the forest.

He had pictures of the tracks and they might get something
from the tread patterns of shoes and vehicles. First they had to
find the suspects and the vehicles. They were
always
building a case.

“
Huh. Nice work.”

“
There’s a chopper going by overhead.”

“
What kind?”

“
Yeah. A Huey. Haven’t seen one of them in a while. Dark
green. It’s headed your way.” That might be Liam’s new
sled.

The
Canadian Forces could go where they wanted, without arousing too
much comment from a citizenry that loved their military rather than
feared it.

If he
could get them to drop it at the site, with him and Ian on the
scene, they could have them on standby. They could take away
whatever they found immediately. His mind raced over the prospects.
It might just be done. It depended on fuel load and the endurance
of the helicopter.

“
Putting you on hold for a minute.”

“
Right.” Ian could check his inbox or whatever while Liam gave
directions to the chopper pilot.

The pilot
seemed agreeable.

“
No problem. I get paid either way.” It was a good
answer.

Liam
immediately got back on the circuit with Ian.

Flat out, on smooth water, he could be there in thirty
minutes if he left
right now.

Breakfast
was a luxury he couldn’t afford and he could call Jenkins on the
way.

***

Liam’s
head broke water to see an expectant pair of faces looking over the
side of their boat. He spat out the mouthpiece and lifted the
goggles.

“
Shit!”

“
What?”

“
The bloody thing’s gone.”

“
Gone?” They sagged when they heard it.

Jenkins
sagged back down on the rear seat of their aluminum
boat.

Ian
looked grim as Liam reached the side and clung to it.

They had
the two boats tied together, and they helped him up over the
side.

He lay
there gasping for a moment, not from exertion but anger.

“
I don’t know, maybe we should have seen that coming.” Liam
accepted a towel gratefully from Jenkins.

“
Shit. They probably called it in before going in the water.”
Jenkins looked over at the far side of the bay, wondering again if
they were under observation.

With the
prize gone, perhaps that was unlikely. It was still a shitty
feeling.

Ian had a
hand-held military radio. It was set to a secure frequency,
digitally encrypted. He had the chopper pilot standing by, which
involved orbiting the lake at low level as if on a training flight.
If necessary, they had the authority to call up a tanker for
refueling. While the enemy already knew something was up, hopefully
no one else did and it was best to keep it that way.

All they
had were pictures, pictures that were compelling. It was the
maneuvering module, useful enough in its own way if your nation
didn’t have one already. With its traces of radioactivity, it might
be fairly easy to track if they got a starting point, although
low-level radioactive waste went down the highways every day. The
enemy would try to get it out as quickly as possible, taking
whatever risks were necessary. Going by road had its attractions,
when they schemed it out. Trucking radioactive waste across borders
for special treatment took one hell of a lot of paperwork, and much
previous documentation, but nothing could be ruled out. It might
also be the perfect cover. Organized crime had deep tentacles.
Nowhere was this more true than in the waste disposal industry. The
Mafia had cooperated with the U.S. in WW II. The shoe could so
easily be on the other foot. Biker gangs, drug cartels, they were
all fueled by greed and contempt for social order. It wasn’t a big
step for some sharp operator to get into the high-tech weapons
business. Or any kind of arms business.

Keeping
bits and pieces of satellite in the country and analyzing it at a
secret lab, simply transmitting data to another location, might be
an option. That seemed less likely, but barely possible.

“
Okay, we’d better make a report. We have to move on this
pronto. They had to have grabbed it during the night.” Liam would
put it in writing.

The
responsibility rode on his shoulders.

It was
his failure, although they all felt bad about it.

The enemy
would have had to have a boat, a heavier duty sled, a vehicle, a
trailer. They didn’t do it all by hand, heavy as it was. There
weren’t that many real roads, as opposed to logging roads and
uncontrolled trails. Someone had to have seen or heard
something.

Some kind
of a plan would appear to be in order.

He was
the man in the hot seat.

The
report they eventually agreed to send was short, sweet and to the
point.

The
response was quick and reassuring.

No
resources would be spared or so it said.

***

“
How in the hell was it done?” Jenkins was no more and no less
upset than the others.

She was
also a professional. She had seen victory, or at least success, or
something akin to it, as well as defeat (otherwise known as the
lack of success) over the years.

“
The underwater part might have involved a much bigger sled.
They might have used a long run-in, heated suits and the same rigs
more or less that we use.” Liam scanned the rim of the valley, with
the river and this particular bay set in it. “We’re probably under
observation now, when you consider it. Or at least we must have
been. What happened to Ian shows they have more people on the
ground than we know about.”

Maybe
even a lot more.

“
We underestimated them.” Alice wasn’t happy about
it.

The thing
was to take it more properly into consideration, within the context
of the overall picture of the battlefield.

Watching
the river and the entire watershed with all of the source lakes
scattered about, especially at night, was an impossible job. In
this sort of country, it just wasn’t possible to get enough people
in place without becoming a little too obvious. The enemy suffered
the same problem, but they had some good information—and Liam was
providing them with someone to watch.

“
So what are we going to do, Liam?” Jenkins’ eyes glittered
from across the table.

It was
cheerful enough when it came.

“
We’re going to find the rest of that satellite.” He nodded.
“Come to think of it, this might be a wonderful area for a military
exercise. We’ll have reservists, tanks, trucks, men in green
standing around at insignificant road intersections. We’ll have
aircraft, helicopters, plenty of boots on the ground. That might
keep their heads down long enough for us to find the rest of
it.”

His eyes
were faraway, intent on the short-term tactics and the long-term
strategy.

He gave
them a look.

“
We can always send them all home again.”

With a
wry look, Jenkins was hauling in the anchor.

Ian
untied their boats, holding on with one hand as Jenkins settled in
for the run back to their launch point.

“
All right. What do you want us to do?”

“
Well. Your covers are blown now.” He looked at Jenkins. “Your
partner, too. Don’t go anywhere alone for the next little while.
Other than that, continue with the search in your area. Supervise
your people, and wait for my call.”

He looked
at Ian.

“
I’ll be finding myself a new spot.” Ian had a pair of
minders, but when he moved they would probably move too.

That made
six enemy agents identified (or suspects observed) so
far.

They had
that much going for them.

“
What about tracking devices?” Jenkins had a point. “When we
find one, do we leave it on or take it off?”

“
Ah. Good question. I suppose it depends on what you’re doing
next. Case by case.” Liam shrugged. “Oh, God. How the fuck would I
know?”

The
others chuckled dutifully.

Sooner or
later the enemy would locate anyone that moved to a new location.
For all they knew they were outnumbered, and by people none of
their allied intelligence services had ever seen before. There were
advantages to staying in place, watching, and waiting.

This was
starting to look like big trouble.

Liam had
a feeling it might not be all that long in coming. An important
thought occurred to him.

“
There are still a couple of fairly big stretches I haven’t
had time to survey yet.” Then there was his first big hit, which he
was saving until the situation became clearer.

“
We’d better do that soon, or they’ll be long gone with it.”
She had a point.

He
reached for the starter.

“
Yeah, but let’s get some more resources in here first. I’ll
see you guys later.”

Chapter Twelve

Frank
Courtenay, the Big F, was on the scrambled line to his counterpart
at the Canadian Security and Intelligence Service.

The
gentleman’s name was Ron Marinaro and while Frank didn’t know him
personally, he came highly-recommended by some people who did.
Those people were in a position to know and were relatively
trustworthy. As far as such things went.

With both
men able to see each other on the big screen in excellent
resolution, it was like they were in the same room
together.

Marinaro was a tall, spare man in his late forties. He was
thoroughly conversant with EMERALD. He wasn’t nearly so paranoid
about leaks and moles and
Philbies
when dealing with the Brits. The Yanks tried not
let on, and the relationship was better these days, but they had a
lot to lose as well. It was just the way things were. The great
thing was that EMERALD had fallen in Canada’s wide-open spaces,
which was better than central Asia or almost anywhere in Africa.
This would have imposed real headaches. As such things went, their
little operation appeared to be going well.

“
So. You’ve had some action. Good.” Frank’s brown eyes were
enlarged by his glasses, rimmed in thick black plastic.

Marinaro
regarded him.

“
Yes, and thank you for lending us the manpower.” Borrowing a
couple of heavies had been enough to attract someone’s attention
and jog a few elbows. “We’re piecing together reports. Up there
it’s all pickup trucks, boat trailers and campgrounds. But, ah,
going totally off-road is a little more unusual. Among other
things, anyone with a rented vehicle is suspect. Anyone not local
and going too far off the beaten path is suspect. Anyone cruising
logging roads up there is most likely a grower, a poacher, or some
kid with a new truck, which makes our job big enough. Oh—and a
suspect.”

“
Yes, that’s very true. Do you think you can find the rest of
it?” He was referring to EMERALD.

“
We certainly hope so, if only for the peace of
mind.”

Frank
nodded.

“
What about flying it out?”