The Curse of Service

The plan could work, Peter Kahl thought as he put the encrypted piece of paper back into his pocket. He had read the outline many times and the sequence seemed sound to him ... easy, as a matter of fact.

He didn't know if money was an issue for the professor, but Peter was authorized to offer up to $1 million American for the formulas. If money wasn't an issue before, that offer should certainly create one. And if the currency didn't work, Peter had rounded up the usual band of thugs to intimidate if necessary. He hoped it wouldn't come to that; this assignment needed to be done clean, and had been designated ‘low-profile.’ He had been told to reinforce that message with his men. The professor's renown, not only in Mother Russia but around the world, dictated that little or no harm come to him or his immediate family. It would create too much of a stink if some mischief did befall them, and Lindstrom couldn't afford that kind of notoriety.

One other thing bothered Peter even more; the National Security Agency had become a player, and their involvement in something like this was unusual. According to Lindstrom's message, they had been notified ostensibly by the professor's daughter. They, in turn, and for some unknown reason, had been asked to contact a man by the name of Henry Jennings. It seems that Jennings was an old family friend, but that fact shouldn't have precluded his involvement. The profile of Jennings in Lindstrom's communiqué described him as a retired, ‘old school’ intelligence officer; a scholastic, heady in an intellectual way. But finally, and vastly more importantly, he seemingly had become disillusioned with the intelligence community. He had left a very lucrative position with a private sector agency, reportedly because of burnout. Peter Kahl liked that; it meant that Jennings, in whatever involvement he might have, more than likely wouldn't be paying attention, and paying attention in this kind of assignment was of the utmost importance. If he was an old family friend, Peter presumed that Jenning’s job would be that of babysitter, here just to make sure that the transaction would go according to proper procedure, and nothing more. But with the weight of Jennings's background, Peter couldn't rely on that. He would have to neutralize Jennings's presence in St. Petersburg through a series of deceptions, from the moment he arrived. Peter would determine what those deceptions would be when Lindstrom confirmed that Jennings had accepted the invitation of the professor's daughter, and would indeed be here.

He looked out the large bay window at the end of the lobby of the Pribaltiskaya Hotel and onto the Gulf of Finland. It was a typical late summer afternoon in this part of the world; fast running clouds that might or might not bring a 10-minute downpour, or possibly even snow, sped across the sky while seagulls sailed like kites above the choppy waters, allowing the wind in their wings to keep them aloft. The weather had become cold, and the days short ... a good time for the job that needed to be done ... darkness, and empty streets.

Peter finished the last drop of his Martell d'Argent, stood, and made his way toward the exit. This assignment was really no different from any of the others; it would take patience, persuasion, and precision. But, as always, his problem was with the unknown, and at this moment the NSA and Henry Jennings were unknowns. Hopefully, before the end of the week, that would not be so.