Objekt 825 (Tracie Tanner Thrillers Book 9), Allan Leverone [books to read for 13 year olds txt] 📗

this problem, most navies for the last twenty-plus years have communicated via what are called Very Low Frequency radio waves. These VLF transmissions penetrate seawater somewhat, and permit limited communications with submerged ships without forcing them to surface.”

“You weren’t kidding,” Tracie said. “I’m on the edge of my seat here.”

Stallings grunted in what Tracie took to be a chuckle. “Over the past several years,” he continued, “researchers have been working on a project that would allow communication with our submarines at a much greater depth beneath the surface using what are called Extremely Low Frequency sound waves, known as—”

“Don’t tell me,” Tracie interrupted. “ELF waves.”

“You got it. Anyway, the project is nearing completion and our fleet of submarines will soon be fitted with the equipment necessary to receive these new types of communications.”

“Okay. Sounds like a happy ending to me. So why am I here?”

“Well, it would be a happy ending except for the fact that the prototype of the new radio receiver necessary to decode the signals was stolen last week from the facility where it was under development.”

“This facility is in the United States?”

“Yep. In Norfolk.”

“Sounds like a case for the police and the FBI.”

“Indeed,” Stallings agreed. “And both organizations are, in fact, working the case.”

“But…”

“But the man who committed the theft, a guy named Carson Limington, who incidentally has to rank among the worst, sloppiest, most haphazard traitors in history, has told investigators that his contact—who double crossed him, stealing the receiver and then shooting him in the head—spoke with a noticeable Russian accent.”

“Ah. That explains both your traitor comment and the fact that I’m sitting here in your office.”

“It does.”

Tracie frowned as she considered Stallings’ words. “This Limington guy survived being shot in the head by a Soviet asset?”

The CIA director nodded. “It was a combination of a careless first shot, followed by a cop surprising the Russian before he could finish Limington off.”

She shook her head. “So, what’s my assignment?”

“Limington is currently being held under guard at Norfolk General Hospital following surgery. He’ll remain there until he’s well enough to be moved to jail while he awaits trial. I want you to interview him, see what you can find out about this potential Russian connection. If we can figure out the identity of the Russian buyer and get to him quickly enough, we might be able to recover the prototype before it’s shipped to the Soviet Union.”

“The theft occurred last week?”

“Exactly seven days ago.”

“Seems like a long shot then. Don’t you think the Soviets would get it out of the country as quickly as possible?”

Stallings grunted, this time in obvious annoyance. “Of course I do, Tanner. But getting the device to Moscow is going to be a little more complicated than dropping it into the nearest mailbox. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Okay,” Tracie said doubtfully. “But what’s my cover going to be? I can’t just waltz past an armed guard and into this guy’s room as an ordinary citizen and demand to interview a suspected traitor.”

Stallings smiled. “I’m glad you asked. Do you recall the identity you assumed last September, when you attended the FBI briefing of the task force assigned to locate and rescue kidnapped Secretary of State J. Robert Humphries?”

Tracie felt her face reddening. The anger came out of nowhere, a fury that became instantly almost uncontrollable.

She cleared her throat.

Tried to keep her voice from shaking.

Chose her words carefully.

Said, “Do I remember? Do I remember the case where I stuck my neck out only to get fired for insubordination, and then went and rescued Humphries anyway? By myself? Do I remember that case? Yes, boss, I remember it, quite clearly in fact.”

Stallings waved his hand and grunted dismissively. “Don’t be so dramatic. I hired you back, didn’t I?”

“Not as an official operative!”

He scoffed. “So what? You’re still doing what you love, and you get the added benefit of working directly with me. There are hundreds of assets all over the world who would love to be in your shoes.”

Tracie bit back the sarcastic response that nearly exploded out of her, knowing it might just get her fired.

Again.

“To answer your question,” she said, breathing deeply, loathing Aaron Stallings even as she admired him, “of course I remember that identity. I was Candice Clayburgh at that meeting.”

“Correct,” Stallings said, utterly unperturbed by Tracie’s obvious anger. “And do you recall the job title we gave you?”

She couldn’t help but smile at the memory, even though she didn’t want to. “Yes, I was ‘special liaison,’ although liaison to whom was never specified. Matt Steinman tried his best to blow my cover on that point the moment I walked into the meeting.”

“I’m not surprised. The FBI director didn’t exactly rise to his current position on the strength of quick wit and excellence at his job. I suspect he has naked pictures of the right people, to be honest.”

I’ll bet you do, too, and of just about every politician and bigwig in D.C., Tracie thought.

“Anyway,” Stallings continued, “for this interrogation you’re going to be Candice Clayburgh, Special Liaison again. But this time, you’ll be special liaison to FBI Director Matt Steinman himself. I took the liberty last night of having our people at Langley construct an official FBI ID and shield for you.” He reached into a desk drawer, removed a billfold, and then tossed it to her.

Tracie caught it and opened it up to see her own likeness staring back at her, with her FBI title printed beneath the photo in what precisely resembled the real thing.

She glanced up at Stallings. “How did you know I was even going to agree to this assignment?”

“This isn’t Mission Impossible, Tanner. When I give you an assignment it doesn’t come with the words, ‘should you choose to accept it.’