The Ties That Bind. Cliff Ryder

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СКАЧАТЬ the challenges of trying to find a submarine in the icy waters of the Bering Strait. Of course, finding it wasn’t the only problem, though that one was a significant challenge in and of itself.

      But the biggest problem would be getting to the sub, getting on board and getting out again without being seen or captured. Even the largest submarines in the world had very limited amounts of space, and the entire crew would know one another on sight. The likelihood of capture or death was quite a bit higher than usual, and being sent on what could be either a wild-goose chase or a death sentence didn’t improve his mood very much. Denny had to have known this was not a simple mission, possibly even a suicide mission, and Jason intended to have some serious words with him when he returned—assuming, of course, that he survived at all.

      As the plane began its descent into Anchorage, Jason thought about the fact that this wasn’t going to be his usual kind of operation. He enjoyed missions where planning was almost as important as execution. The proper plans almost always led to the successful completion of an op, and in his experience, failure was usually the result of poor planning. The problem here was that no plan could possibly address all—or even most—of the likely challenges. In other words, he was going to have to wing it. It was an uncomfortable sensation for him at best.

      Still, he suspected that these kinds of missions were among the reasons that Room 59 existed in the first place. During his training period, his final test—what they called a mission assessment—was the elimination of a well-protected foreign dignitary who’d been selling state secrets on the black market. It had been an unfortunate situation all the way around. The man had a history of excellent public service to his own country and had built a network of friends within the U.S. government, as well. But he also had a gambling problem that led to a massive debt load. He turned to the only resource he had—selling secrets to both sides and funneling the profits to pay off his debts. Still, the man had a wife, two kids, a family…and he had to die. It wasn’t a situation where a slap on the wrist would do the job. His removal had to be quick and quiet.

      After reviewing the mission parameters, Jason had flown to Washington, D.C., and attended a party where the man was a guest. He’d slipped through the crowd in a waiter’s uniform and removed him with a poisoned appetizer. By all appearances, the man had had a massive heart attack and was dead long before the paramedics could arrive. It was an unfortunate end to what had been a successful career, and his family would suffer grief. Still, Jason didn’t ask any questions and he didn’t hesitate. His trainers were very pleased, and even Denny had congratulated him on doing a difficult mission without letting it get personal.

      “Why would it have gotten personal?” Jason had asked.

      “Targets are still people,” Denny had said. “The man had a family and was well respected.”

      “It wasn’t personal to me,” Jason had said. “He needed to be killed. That simple.”

      Denny had stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “You’ll find, I think, that many of our missions aren’t so simple, as you put it. Sooner or later, you’ll run into something that makes it personal.”

      Jason smiled grimly. “Nothing in our line of work, not even death, is personal. What we do is simple because it’s necessary. There’s no need to muck things up with feelings.”

      For some reason, remembering that briefing now, Jason thought that perhaps Denny had been right. Sometimes the work could get personal. Even being this close to where his family had come from, where they might still be, made him edgy. He turned his mind back to his work.

      Other than his cover story as part of a geological-survey team, Jason didn’t see a need to be overly creative with this mission. His real name would work fine and might even be helpful with some of the native people. After the plane touched down, Jason grabbed his laptop case from beneath the seat in front of him and made his way through the terminal to claim his baggage.

      Denny had arranged a guide who was familiar with the coastline and knew the native population well. Jason grabbed his bags from the carousel and took a cab to his hotel. He’d chosen the Anchorage Grand Hotel for its central downtown location since he wasn’t sure how his guide would suggest they travel up to the strait.

      He arrived at the hotel, and was pleased to find a message waiting for him from the local guide. His briefing materials indicated that she worked with a travel agency and came highly recommended. Jason checked in and used his cell phone to call her. He suggested they meet for dinner to discuss his needs and her ideas. She sounded bright and ready to work, and if nothing else, having someone along who knew the area well would be a good thing.

      He took a brief nap, then headed down to the dining room to wait for Tina Kanut. When she stepped into the restaurant, Jason did a quick double take. For some reason, he’d expected her to look more like the native guides he’d used for missions in the Middle East or in Africa—weathered, worn and hardened by the conditions of their lifestyle.

      In person, Tina looked younger than her picture, probably in her late twenties or early thirties, with the dark hair and eyes of her native Inuit people. She was breathtakingly beautiful. The photo Denny had shown him didn’t do her justice. She moved with the kind of grace usually reserved for dancers, and her frame was tall and lean. He caught her eye and waved her over. She waved back and headed his way.

      Jason knew that a woman like this could be a distraction on a mission—he was a man, after all—but if she proved competent, then it would be up to him to control his urges and stay focused. It wouldn’t be fair to deny her the job simply because she happened to be knockout gorgeous.

      He stood as she reached the table and offered his hand. “Jason Siku,” he said, keeping his handshake firm and businesslike. “It’s nice to meet you.”

      “Hi, Mr. Siku,” she said. “Tina Kanut. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

      A sexy voice, too, Jason thought, then forced himself to business. “Please, sit down.” He resisted the urge to pull out her chair.

      They both sat, and he signaled the waitress, who came over and took their drink orders. Scotch on the rocks for him, and a soft drink for her. They made meaningless small talk until the drinks arrived, then turned to business.

      “So,” Tina said. “The agency told me that you were looking for a native guide, all the way up to the Bering Strait. That’s a long haul from here.”

      He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “My thought is to fly to Nome, then head up along the coast.”

      She considered this for a moment, then said, “That makes the most sense, but it’s not an easy trek, Mr. Siku. There are only a few roads leading out of Nome, and even those only go a short distance. After that, it’s ATVs and hard work.”

      “I can handle it,” he said. “I’ve traveled all over the world in some of the roughest country this planet has to offer.”

      Tina laughed quietly. “I’ve heard that before, too,” she said, then changed tack. “What are you looking for specifically?” she asked. “I might be able to save you a lot of time if I know what you’re after.”

      “Nothing in particular,” he said. “The company I work for does detailed, computer-based mapping, combining physical inspections, satellite imagery and aerial photography. They send me out in advance of the regular team so I can get the lay of the land, let them know of any problems the ground team might encounter before they arrive.”

      “You don’t work for an oil company, do you?” Her tone was one of pure suspicion.

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