A Hostile State by Adrian Magson (reading eggs books txt) 📗

knew the signs. Not everyone was welcome as a friend here and you had best beware the wolf in smart clothing if they had any kind of agenda.

Among the more familiar faces were James Cardew, Jackson, Fred Groll, Craig Breakman, Gina Patel and, squeezing in alongside Broderick with a sun-burst smile that threatened to light up the area around him and him only, Carly Ledhoffen.

‘I’ll keep this brief,’ Sewell said, knuckling the table to still conversation. ‘The last time we met was to discuss the development of what appeared to be an attack on one of our contractors, code-named Watchman, on assignment in Lebanon. I won’t go into more detail on that right now.’ He glanced around at the newcomers, adding, ‘I’ll be circulating a summary record later to confirm the background. As of minutes ago a decision has been made that significantly changes our attitude of response to the attack.’ He paused, and Callahan recognized by the set of Sewell’s face that he was far from happy. Whatever the decision was, it had plainly been made without his input and didn’t bode well for somebody.

Callahan waited for Sewell to continue. The man was usually unflappable, out-and-out in his loyalty to the CIA, more old-school than new, and had made no bones about the fact that protecting their own – even contractors – should be embedded in the organization’s culture. If you were attached to the CIA team and prepared to put your life on the line for it and the country, you got the same level of care and effort as everyone else.

Sewell inclined his head sideways towards the man from the State Department. ‘Deputy Assistant Secretary Broderick has kindly come along to advise on the direction we’re taking on the Watchman situation.’ He stopped there and waved a hand to cede the floor without further ado.

Broderick looked surprised by the abrupt hand-over, but recovered quickly.

‘Thank you, James. As you all know, the situation vis-a-vis our relationship with Moscow is a little changeable at this time. The White House and State Department are doing all we can to stabilize the co-operation between us and get over the occasional bumps along the way.’ He showed his teeth in what was supposed to be a grin but it lacked humour. ‘It’s been made a little more difficult with China’s growing role on the world stage and its military surge. But we have to address the most obvious threats first. I don’t need to tell you about Moscow’s current developments in the Middle East – especially Syria and Iran – and their influence elsewhere, namely Latin America and their focus on gaining traction in Venezuela’s oil-producing sector. Their increasing investment programme in the African continent is accelerating, too, so we need to ensure that we keep a level head when talking to our counterparts in the Kremlin. Make no mistake, that does not mean we’re prepared to roll over in any way.’ He tapped the table with a hefty forefinger to emphasize the point. ‘Not one bit. President Putin admires strength and takes advantage wherever he can when opponents show any sign of weakness. We cannot and will not allow that to happen.’

There was a ‘but’ coming. Callahan could hear it like a runaway truck in a shopping mall. Jesus, where is this going?

‘In short,’ Broderick continued, ‘while we recognize the alleged threat made to the operative known as Watchman, we also have to temper our instinctive reactions to it by not going around making wild accusations which cannot be substantiated. We cannot allow one man – a sub-contractor, no less, not one of our own – to drag us into taking any kind of reckless action that could have unforeseen consequences down the line.’

‘Alleged?’ Callahan couldn’t help it; the word was out before he could haul it back. But it was too late and too instinctive. ‘What does that mean?’

Broderick looked at him with a cold, fish-eyed expression that probably worked well with State Department juniors who knew their place, but Callahan was too riled to care.

‘I don’t think I caught your name or position, Mr—?’

‘It’s Callahan, Mr Deputy.’ He was damned if he was going to dignify the man with a ‘sir’. ‘Brian Callahan. I’m a CSO here in Langley.’

Broderick looked puzzled by the acronym until Carly Ledhoffen leaned across and explained in a stage whisper, ‘Clandestine Service Officer, sir. He’s Watchman’s controller.’ She smiled at Callahan and shrugged, eyes wide in a ‘What else could I do?’ expression.

‘Thank you, Callahan, for your question. Let me be perfectly clear on this matter. This “incident” should not have happened. It comes at a difficult time and our involvement in this particular Lebanon mission should be shut down immediately. The fact is, we cannot allow further US incursions in clearing up this man’s mess to get in the way of ongoing discussions.’

‘But we need to get him out of there!’ Callahan protested. ‘This was a real and active threat against one of our people on a sanctioned mission to retrieve vital information. There was no “alleged” about it. Snipers do not simply go out and look for a random person to take out for the hell of it. These men had his photo in their possession and knew who they were looking for. Furthermore, I don’t see how us calling it like it is in any way endangers our foreign policy. The sniper was Russian and he attacked a US citizen—’

‘You only have your man’s report on that,’ Broderick broke in. ‘How do we know he wasn’t mistaken?’

‘Well, in my experience,’ said Craig Breakman from Special Activities, ‘men wounded in combat don’t usually adopt a language that is not their own. Just saying.’

Callahan looked to Sewell for help, but his boss avoided meeting his eye. It was instantly clear to Callahan that Sewell had received his orders on the subject and was in no position to counter them.

‘Well, Callahan,’ Broderick said coolly, ‘your comments are clear and understood. However, we do not