When they got to the operations building, Dick led him into the conference room. One of the big screens on the wall at the front displayed a map of Russia and Ukraine while the other four displayed photos of various people. A pocket-protector type was at the table manning the computer and leafing through folders.
Jayson sat down just as Powell walked in. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as Powell took the seat across from him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why the asshat was here. Powell was going to be his partner on this mission.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
From where he stood at the head of the table, Dick directed a laser pointer at the screen with a photo of a smiling kid who looked about seventeen. The picture looked like it had come from a high school yearbook.
“This is Dylan Palmer,” Dick said. “He’s the son of Norman Palmer, the counselor of political affairs at the U.S. Embassy in Kiev, Ukraine. Four days ago, Dylan didn’t come home. Given what’s currently going on over there, the embassy immediately sent someone to look for him, thinking he might have been kidnapped. They quickly realized they had a much bigger problem on their hands.”
Dick nodded at the guy manning the computers and a blog came up on another screen. Jayson quickly scanned it. There were posts about Russian aggression, autonomous regions, cease-fires, and military atrocities.
“Dylan fancies himself an investigative journalist,” Dick continued. “Apparently he’d heard rumors about all the bad stuff going on in the Russian-controlled territories around Donetsk and decided he needed to experience it firsthand. He loaded up his iPad and ran off to a frigging war zone to do a little snooping and write the next Pulitzer-worthy story. The best the embassy can tell, Dylan has been in Donetsk for at least two days.”
Jayson winced. He watched a lot of news these days—the perk of not being able to sleep at night. The fighting in Ukraine had been headline material for weeks, and even though the media had grown bored with the subject and moved on to the next big thing, the fighting there was still going on.
Most of eastern Ukraine was populated with people of Russian ancestry who had ties to their native country. Western Ukraine, on the other hand, was predominantly populated by Ukrainians who had loyalties of a completely different nature and a tendency to look toward Western Europe for direction, as opposed to Mother Russia. The battles with pro-Russian forces against the separatist forces along the border of the two distinct parts of the country had been bloody and violent. If the kid had been looking for a place to find a gritty story, he’d definitely gone to the right area.
Dick pointed the laser at a photo of a dark-haired girl about the same age as Dylan. “Everything indicates that Dylan is with his Ukrainian girlfriend, Anya Zelenko, and possibly several of their friends, but nobody’s saying much, and the embassy doesn’t want to stir up anything because they fear the militias running the region will hear about it and start actively looking for him.”
“Why hasn’t the embassy sent some of their people in to go get the kid already?” Powell asked. “The CIA could be in and out of there in a couple hours.”
“I’m sure they could,” Dick agreed. “But unfortunately for Dylan, the U.S. is currently taking a hands-off approach to the whole region and has no desire to call attention to the fact that there’s an American citizen, the son of a diplomat at that, running around what is essentially Russian-held territory. They’re disavowing any and all knowledge or involvement in this situation.”
“So Dylan is on his own?” Jayson asked.
“Except for us, yes.”
“Donetsk is a pretty big city,” Jayson pointed out. “Do we have anything as far as the kid’s current location?”
“His father got a text from him about two days ago saying he was somewhere around the international airport near a small town called Oktyabrsky,” Dick said.
The blog disappeared from the screen to be replaced by a map of the area.
Jayson narrowed his eyes, trying to remember why Oktyabrsky was important. Then it hit him. “I remember seeing that place in the news. Didn’t both sides shell the hell out of that city?”
Dick nodded. “That particular area is still seeing a lot of violence and militia activity. The majority of the region’s citizens are stuck in the middle, trying to keep their heads down and survive. There’s no government control in the autonomous regions so militia groups are vying for control and whatever power they can get.”
Militia groups. That was a nice way of saying they were a ragtag collection of current and former military who had the weapons and know-how to make sure they came out on top in a crappy situation.
“But none of that matters,” Dick added. “This is a simple track, bag, and drag mission. There should be no reason to even come into contact with any of the militia groups, much less engage with them.”
Jayson wasn’t so sure about that. He’d learned from experience that it was rarely a good idea to assume you could avoid contact with any group in possession of a large amount of weapons.
“Besides, that punk kid is probably hiding in a basement somewhere, pissing his pants and scared to death,” Powell snorted, his gray eyes hard. “All we need to do is find him and get him back to daddy. We should be in and out of there in a few hours.”
Jayson wondered if he should suggest that Dick and Powell go together since they both seemed to think this mission would be such a breeze. He bit his tongue and instead asked how many different militia groups occupied the area, where they were headquartered, how large their territories were, who might be willing to help them, and most importantly, the best route to get the kid out of Donetsk once they had him.
Powell got bored about halfway through the questions and got up to leave, telling Jayson he’d get their gear ready.
“For whenever you get tired of talking and decide to start doing,” he added snidely.
That was when it really hit Jayson. He was going to a war-torn part of the world with that asshat to do a mission that wasn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park.
“Are you sure sending me out on a mission like this is a good idea?” Jayson asked after the briefing was over. “We don’t even know what I can do.”
“If we don’t send you now, we’re never going to know what you can do,” Dick said. “Like you said, this kid doesn’t have anyone else to help him. He’s a political liability. If we don’t go over there, he’s probably not going to make it.”
That was what had Jayson worried. If the serum didn’t work and he couldn’t do the job, Dylan might not make it anyway.
