The Seven Year Itch by S D Skye Page A

the safety of FBI
Headquarters, beyond the bounds of Langley, and keep Plotnikov in the United
States so she could help him defect if Golikov threatened a recall. But one
false slip and her source would find himself buried face down in an unmarked
grave. She refused to allow her conscience to bear that guilt. And the line
between sobriety and the edge of no return was too thin to tread.
    Her ability to fulfill her promise had been hampered by one
thing.
    One person.
    And the time had finally come to find out who the hell he
was.

 

 
 
 
    Chapter 5

 
 
    Thursday
Afternoon…
    “U hhh, heads up everybody. Plotnikov has departed the main
building,” Jake said. “But he’s not alone—and his hands are full.”
    “I don’t even understand why J.J.’s so pressed over this guy.
He’s a nobody,” Jiggy complained, speaking freely because J.J. and Tony were in
the vault. “I could be at home catching up on the Young and the Restless .”
    Jake let out a strained chuckled and hopelessly watched his
mark. The counterintelligence operational line chief for Washington’s Russian
intelligence residency escorted Plotnikov from the residential wing to his
diplomatic vehicle and jumped into the driver’s seat. “Well, J.J. doesn’t have
to worry about Golikov’s people or counterintelligence following him. Aleksey Dmitriyev is his fucking chauffer.”  
    “What the hell?” Jiggy said. “Plotnikov can’t meet our guy
with a counterintelligence guy in the car. I mean, aren’t these the guys who
tortured and shot spies working for the FBI?”  
    “Correct,” Jake said. “And it looks like they’re carrying
luggage.”
    Dmitriyev had two jobs in the residency: recruit American
intelligence personnel to collect information on behalf of the Russians; and
prevent Russian embassy personnel from cooperating with American intelligence.
With Dmitriyev at his side, Plotnikov could do nothing except buckle his seat
belt and enjoy the ride.
    When the words “leaving with luggage” finally processed
through the team, murmurings bubbled across the air waves.
    “Wait a minute,” Jiggy said, interrupting the chatter. “You
said luggage. As in suitcases?”
    “No. As in suitcases,” Jake replied. “Something wrong with
your English today?”
    “Could be comms equipment.” Jiggy avoided any thought of the
worst case scenario.
      “I doubt it,” Jake said. “Shit! J.J. and
Tony are in the vault and I don’t have the number to the bat phone. Should I
stay with them or abort?” Jake hoped Jiggy would suggest aborting the op. What
purpose would going through the motions serve?
    “We should be asking you—Obi Wan,” Jiggy replied.
    “I’m thinking no way he’s gonna make the meet with a security
officer in the car.”
    “That may be true, but I say we stick to Plotnikov like honey
to a bee’s ass no matter what,” Jiggy said. “I refuse to be one to tell J.J. we
dropped coverage and don’t know what happened to the mark.”
    “Good point,” Jake said.
    The gates opened. Jake peered into his targets’ car through
his Steiner binoculars. Embroiled in a heated discussion, Dmitriyev didn’t
bother scanning for surveillance which meant he didn’t give a damn about the G
presence or he knew he could evade them.
    Jake made a mental note and prepared for the ride as he
watched them pull through the exit gate. “Okay, team, they’re out. I’ve got the
eye.”
    Time to rock , Jake
thought.
    Dmitriyev’s vehicle approached a stop sign at the corner of
Tunlaw and Calvert Road, a few blocks from the embassy grounds. Jake pulled in
behind them, using the three civilian cars he allowed to pull in front of him
as cover.
    “Traffic’s heavy,” Jake advised his team. “We shouldn’t be
crappin’ our clothes during hairpin turns today. I’m heading east on Calvert.
You in position, Jiggy? If I should lose him, you gotta pick him up.”
    The team decided to use leapfrog surveillance, switching the
eye