“Such as?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
The Pole laughed. “I can’t help you, Lydia, if I don’t know what it is you need.”
“Yesterday, a U.S. Army transport was robbed in Poland.”
“Robbed? In Poland? What are you talking about? Where?”
“Just outside Warsaw,” said Ryan. “The soldiers had been traveling from their base in Z˙agan´ in western Poland and had pulled off at a truck stop for a break.”
“And?” asked Kopec.
“The lot was crowded and they didn’t park line of sight. They thought their trucks would be safe. But while they were inside, one of the vehicles was broken into and a theft occurred.”
They paused as the waitress brought Kopec another vodka and Ryan a glass of Sancerre.
“What was taken?” he asked after the waitress had left.
“Six crates.”
“Six crates of what?”
Ryan demurred.
When she failed to answer his question, he asked, “Am I supposed to guess?”
“For the record, the soldiers had no idea what they were transporting. The crates had been purposely mislabeled and the paperwork altered.”
Kopec took a sip of his drink and leaned forward. “Now you absolutely have my attention.”
“The equipment in question never should have been delivered to Poland. Somebody screwed up.”
“What are we talking about?”
Again, Ryan hesitated.
“Lydia, ask any of my ex-wives. I’m a terrible mind reader.”
“Upgrade kits for BGM-109G missiles.”
Kopec laughed—quietly at first, and then his laugh grew louder. Ryan looked around, concerned that he was drawing attention.
Catching his breath, the Polish intel officer shook his head. Also known as the Gryphon, the BGM-109G was an American ground-launched cruise missile capable of carrying multiple types of warheads—including nuclear. It had long been outlawed under the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces treaty with the Russians.
“What you’re saying is impossible,” he chuckled. “There aren’t any Gryphons in Europe. There aren’t even any Gryphons in America. They were all destroyed under the terms of the INF treaty.”
After another look around the restaurant, Ryan leaned forward. “No, they weren’t.”
Kopec was shocked by her admission. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”
It was a rhetorical question. She didn’t need to answer.
“How many of them are in Europe?” he asked.
“I can’t discuss that.”
“Fine. Let’s back up. Are there any in Poland?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“The ones that are in Europe, where are they located?”
“Artur, you know I can’t discuss that either.”
Kopec laughed once more. “If you want my help, you have to work with me, Lydia. How about this? How many trucks were there?”
She took a sip of her wine, using the time to weigh what she should tell him. “Three,” she replied.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. What was their destination? Where exactly were they headed?”
Reluctantly, she divulged the information. “The Baltics.”
“Can you be more precise?”
“Deliveries were scheduled for Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia.”
The Pole let out a slow, slightly boozy whistle. “If the Russians find out, they’re going to lose their minds.”
“We obviously don’t want that to happen. The missiles are simply an insurance policy.”
“Insurance against what?”
“Russian incursion.”
“Incursion where?”
“Anywhere under NATO protection. If push comes to shove, we won’t hesitate to use Gryphons.”
“Is there something going on that I don’t know about?” Kopec asked, concerned. “Is the United States or NATO anticipating some sort of hostile action by Russia?”
“Concern is running very high—the highest it has been since the Cold War. And Russia hasn’t exactly been doing anything to lower that concern.”
“What do you mean?”
Ryan rolled her eyes and took another sip of wine. “So many provocative acts. How much time do you have?”
“As much time as you need,” the Pole replied. He wasn’t kidding. In fact, his tone was dead serious.
In no particular order, Ryan went down the list. “The annexation of Crimea, continued military operations in eastern Ukraine, repeated violations of U.S. and NATO airspace, the use of a nerve agent to assassinate a former Russian intelligence operative on U.K. soil, and the buildup of Russian troops and equipment in its western district, as well as in Russia’s client state of Belarus—both of which are right on NATO’s doorstep.”
“We’ve been monitoring it, too,” said Kopec. “Russia, though, claims they’re simply prepositioning in advance of a new war-gaming exercise.”
“A previously unscheduled war-gaming exercise.”
The Pole shrugged. “They’re a sovereign nation. They can schedule snap military exercises. They have done it before. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’re preparing for an invasion.”
“Is that what Poland believes?”
“Poland’s position is Ronald Reagan’s famous position—trust, but verify.”
“Well, any trust Russia may have enjoyed with the United States has been swept away by their own actions. The current position of American intelligence, unfortunately, is to distrust first and work tirelessly to verify.”
“That’s not only unfortunate, but it’s extremely dangerous,” said Kopec. “In such an unstable climate, there’s less margin for error. War becomes much more possible.”
“I agree,” she replied. “I wish it weren’t so, but that is where we are.”
“So, back to the business at hand,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you cannot discuss how many missiles there are, let’s talk about the number of road-mobile launchers.”
Ryan shook her head. “I cannot comment on that either.”
Kopec understood that she was limited in what she could divulge. The key lay in coming up with the right questions. “What about warheads? Are any of them nuclear-tipped?”
Once again, the look on her face said it all. Jackpot.
“Jesus, Lydia,” he muttered. “No wonder you don’t want my government involved. What kind of yield are we talking about?”
“I can’t go into detail.”
“I’m going to need something. Are they strategic or tactical? How about that?”
She was slow to answer. They were on very dangerous ground.
“From what I understand,” said Ryan, “they’re tactical. Low-yield if that makes any difference or makes you feel any better.”
“Not really.” Kopec knew that the presence of smaller, low-yield “battlefield” nukes only meant they were more likely to get used. And once tactical nukes were in play, the larger, much more devastating strategic nukes were only a step away.
“Artur, if this gets out, understand that the United States is going to deny any knowledge.”