“Sveiki atvyke˛!” shouted Carl Pedersen over the sound of the engines winding down. “Welcome to Lithuania.”
The Norwegian was dressed in a turtleneck and a pair of well-pressed trousers. He didn’t look at all like a man who had raced to find a plane and landed only an hour earlier.
Harvath descended the airstairs and shook his hand. “It’s good to see you, Carl. Thank you for doing this.”
“Where would America be without Norway?” he replied with a smile. Then, motioning to the man next to him, he said, “May I introduce Filip Landsbergis of the VSD, Lithuania’s State Security Department.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Landsbergis was a tall man in his early forties with blond hair and green eyes. He wore a Barbour coat over a gray suit and a simple navy tie. His handshake was firm.
“We appreciate your hosting us,” said Harvath.
“Technically, this is a simple NATO rotation,” the Lithuanian said, smiling. His English was excellent. “Planes take off, planes land. Who’s to say what happens when they’re in the air?”
Harvath smiled back. “Understood.”
He pointed to a waiting van. “When your team is ready, we have an area set up where they can refresh themselves and wait for the rest of your equipment to arrive. In the meantime, I have reserved a secure meeting room where we can discuss some of the additional items you have requested. My car is this way.”
Pedersen joined him and they followed Landsbergis to his vehicle. The drive across the air base only took a couple of minutes.
They arrived at a long two-story Soviet-era building. Even with the landscaping improvements that had been made outside, nothing could detract from how ugly the structure was.
The VSD operative parked his car near the front and led his guests through two glass doors into the lobby. Their meeting room was halfway down a fluorescently lit corridor to the right.
Landsbergis punched a code into a worn keypad, the lock released, and he held the door open so Harvath and Pedersen could enter first.
He flipped on all the lights and walked over to a small minibar. “I can offer you coffee, mineral water, or Coca-Cola. Anyone interested?”
“Do you have anything stronger?” asked Pedersen.
“Not here, I’m afraid. I could make a call, if you’d like.”
“No, don’t go to the trouble. Coffee is fine. Thank you.”
“And for you?” the Lithuanian asked.
“Coffee for me too, please,” Harvath replied, stepping over to the windows. They offered an impressive view over the entire air base. “Didn’t the Soviets base many of their long-range bombers here during the Cold War?”
“They did indeed. This was one of only six airfields that could accommodate the Myasishchev M-4.”
“The Bison,” said Harvath, using the NATO designator for the aircraft. “Capable of reaching the United States, but not getting back to the Soviet Union. For a long time, though, the Russians sure had everyone fooled.”
“The bomber gap,” Pedersen stated, nodding. “The West was worried that the Soviets were building hundreds upon hundreds of these amazing jet-powered strategic bombers. In the end, it was all just a hoax.”
“An appropriate metaphor for the Soviet Union itself,” declared Landsbergis as he finished pouring three mugs of coffee and carried them over to the conference table.
Harvath agreed. Stepping away from the windows, he joined the two men and took a seat.
The VSD operator’s laptop was already connected to a projector in the center of the table. Powering it up, he waited for his presentation to load.
“As Carl said, I represent the Lithuanian State Security Department. Even though I am a few years younger, he and I have been friends and colleagues for some time. The Norwegian Intelligence Service has done many favors for the VSD, and I hope you have found that we have always generously reciprocated.”
Pedersen nodded.
“American intelligence has also been helpful to Lithuania,” he continued, “and we are very grateful for both relationships. In that spirit, we’d like to help you in any way we can.
“We are extremely concerned about the prospect of a Russian invasion. Currently, Lithuania is undergoing a savage Kremlin-backed disinformation campaign, meant to sow discord and weaken our country. Our fear that this may be a prelude to war has been discussed between America’s UN Ambassador and ours. It is the express opinion of the United States that we should not change our military posture for fear of tipping off or provoking Moscow. We understand this position.
“That being the case, we do not wish to sit idly by and wait to see what happens. America is our friend and ally. We also believe we should be involved in any fight that helps to protect and preserve Lithuania.
“Obviously, we cannot do this in any overt official capacity. If the Russians discovered that we had assisted, that could serve as a severe provocation and goad them into war.
“Anything we do will have to be covert and off-book, but rest assured that I understand fear is a two-way street. As we fear the Russians’ learning about our involvement with you, you fear the Russians’ learning about your involvement with us—and subsequently your mission into Kaliningrad.
“While I’d like to believe that the Lithuanian State Security Department hasn’t been penetrated by Moscow, history and common sense would suggest otherwise. No one in the VSD but me will know the details of your plans. And even then, for operational security, I will not know everything.”
The Lithuanian took a pause as Harvath looked at Pedersen.
“Without him,” said the Norwegian, “I don’t think you have a chance. With him, fifty-fifty. Maybe even sixty-forty.”
“Actually,” clarified Landsbergis, “based on what Carl has explained to me that you need, I think we can help improve your odds even more.”
“Show me what you have in mind,” replied Harvath as he sat back in his chair, raised his mug, and took a sip.
The VSD operative directed his attention to the front of the room and activated the first slide in his presentation.
CHAPTER 62
* * *
“One minute!” the jumpmaster at the ramp of the brand-new C-130J Super Hercules yelled to Harvath.
The aircraft was part of the Eighty-sixth Airlift Wing at Ramstein Air Base in Germany. Under authorization from United States European Command, the heavy-duty transport plane had been loaded with a very expensive and very specific shopping list of gear and flown to an air base in Lithuania.
There, four Americans had been standing on the tarmac waiting to meet it. When the aircraft came to a stop, they quickly climbed aboard and kicked the tires of every piece of gear that had been shipped to them.
The American team leader bought dinner for everyone and then spent a good two hours with the crew going over weather conditions, wind speeds aloft, altitude calculations, and other equations. He was one of the most thorough “customers” they had ever given a ride to.
“Thirty seconds!” the jumpmaster yelled.
The team had already double-checked each other’s gear and then had checked again. Standing at the ramp with their wingsuits, low-vis helmets, night-vision goggles, and oxygen masks, they looked spooky—like four dark superheroes out of some postapocalyptic comic book.