State Of The Union

“As I was starting to say,” replied Harvath. “Finding the command and control structure for that air defense system has got to be like looking for a needle in a six million, five hundred fifty-two thousand, seven hundred square mile haystack. Do we have any leads? Do I get any help on this at all?”

Morrell opened his briefcase and handed Harvath a folder. “When this whole thing broke, we conducted a search of our intelligence databases. The search came up with one hit. In the mid-eighties, a Russian KGB officer named Viktor Ivanov was engaged in trading information with the United States from time to time. He was deemed a somewhat reliable source, as far as double agents go, until he presented the CIA with a conspiracy theory so outlandish, they chose to write him off as no longer reliable.”

“What was his theory?”

“Ivanov said that he had uncovered a plot by five of the Soviet Union’s top generals to win the Cold War by convincing the USSR to roll over and play dead while they invested in a covert weapons program that would allow them to return stronger than the U.S. At this point, you’ve pretty much seen how the rest of their plan pans out.”

Harvath was shocked. “No one checked into this guy’s story?”

“Of course we did. The CIA took it seriously at first. Ivanov had never given them bad information before, but they worried that he might have been setting them up.”

“Setting them up for what?”

“Who knows?” answered Morrell. “Back then, everyone was suspicious. They were always on the lookout for not only the double, but the triple cross. The long and the short of it is that the Agency dug real deep, pulled a lot of their Soviet contacts in and tried to corroborate Ivanov’s story, but they couldn’t. So, in the end, they cut him loose and refused to use him any more. They thought he had gone around the bend and didn’t want to waste any more of their time or resources on him.”

“So where do I find him?” asked Harvath.

“You can’t. He’s dead.”

“Then what’s in that file?”

“Notwhat, but whom. Ivanov’s daughter, Alexandra Ivanova.”

Morrell opened the folder and handed it to him. Harvath’s eyes were immediately drawn to the picture stapled to the inside. Alexandra Ivanova was gorgeous.

“Former Russian military, Ivanova was recruited about eight years ago over to Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service, known as the-”

“SVR,” added Harvath absentmindedly as he focused on the dossier in front of him. “Following in the family footsteps.”

“Indeed. She has been posted in several international cities, including Hong Kong, London, and Istanbul. She speaks English, Arabic, and Mandarin in addition to her mother tongue and when her back is against the wall, has shown herself to be an extremely deadly assassin. Don’t let her looks fool you, this lady should be treated with the utmost caution.”

“She doesn’t look that bad to me,” replied Harvath.

“Be that as it may, you’re to be extra careful with her. Do not underestimate her at any time. Now, her father used her from time to time for some of his more delicate assignments and she was known to be a confidant of sorts to him. He was obsessed with this plot by the generals, and it eventually cost him his job, though the Soviets could never prove that he was trying to tip us off. Apparently, Ivanov was very Hoover-esque in the files he kept on people and that fact alone was probably the only reason he was never bumped off. He probably scared too many people with what he had buttoned down. We believe he most likely passed along some, if not all, of his files to his daughter before he died. At least that’s what our analysts think from the short amount of time they had to look at his dossier.”

“And what makes you believe that if this woman does know something, that she’ll share it with me?”

“The father was no Communist. He was more of a nationalist who put the good of his country, often to the detriment of his career, ahead of the self-serving desires of his government. From what we’ve seen, the daughter embodies a lot of that same ideology. If she has any information, the president has the utmost confidence that you will do whatever it takes to get it out of her.”

“What does that mean?” asked Harvath, who after taking one last look at Alexandra Ivanova’s photo, set the file down on the coffee table.

“Those are the president’s words, not mine, so you take them to mean whatever you want.”

“I bet I know what it means,” said Carlson, who had picked up the folder and was looking at the photo. “God, this chick is hot. You know, when this is all over, Harvath, maybe you could-”

“Put that folder down,” snapped Morrell. “You’re not cleared to see what’s in there.”

“If that’s what a ‘hard’ assignment looks like,” said Carlson, setting down the folder, “I’ll trade jobs with you right now, Harvath.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” replied Harvath. “I think I can suffer through this one.”