* * *
Martin Rebane stood by the open window and took a long drag at his cigarette, his body welcoming the nicotine as a long-lost saviour. Of late it was threatening to become a regular transgression, the cigarette helping to ease the stress of another difficult day. And where August 14 was concerned, new problems were never far from his thoughts.
Despite his advancing years, Rebane was still able to attract the admiring stares of younger women; his obvious success might partly influence the initial look, but the darkest of blue-eyes set off by silver-grey hair would always rate a second glance. Born near the city of Tartu in Soviet-era Estonia, from Rebane’s early memories two images stood out: protective, hard-working parents, their love for each other and their son never doubted, and a frail, kindly grandmother who had spent most of her evenings instilling in her young grandson an appreciation of his Estonian heritage. Then, in the space of a few months, twelve year-old Martin’s grandmother had lost her long battle with cancer and his father had been crushed to death in a freak accident at work. His mother had struggled on, but there had been too many shocks too close together, and eight months later she too was dead. Rebane had spent the rest of his youth in a State Orphanage, a harsh regime made bearable by the occasional act of kindness and the hope of a better future.
With his every waking moment bombarded by images of Communist and Soviet ideology, such ideals were the one stable but hated element of his teenage years, and Rebane’s growing sense of national identity had quickly become a confusion of conflicting loyalties. Determined to break out of the cycle of poverty, Rebane had worked hard, and was duly rewarded with a scholarship to read Politics at Tartu State University. Estonian Independence had brought with it a more personal bonus and with his tutor’s backing Rebane took up a place at Oxford. The experience was close to a revelation, the academic rigour of Oxford ensuring he had continued to thrive, and a long-standing interest in the differing motives of terrorist groups had led to the first of many such articles. From Oxford, it was on to an eight-year stint as a journalist, based in the United States, Rebane gaining U.S. citizenship in 2003. The CIA had then come calling.
Talent, hard work, and a regular stream of articles established Rebane as an acknowledged expert in his field, his expertise ensuring he maintained strong links with the world’s security agencies even after he had left the CIA. Despite such success, he had never forgotten the lessons of his youth, ever conscious of Estonia’s long and difficult struggle for independence.
Purely as a theoretical exercise, Rebane had sought to find a way of removing the last vestiges of Russian influence and so securing Estonia’s treasured sovereignty. An off-hand comment to a Polish colleague had brought an unexpected response, followed soon after by a meeting in New York. People of influence seemed to share Rebane’s concerns and more to the point were willing to fund his ambition. If Rebane really had the know-how and contacts to test Russian frailty, then it would be foolish to ignore such an opportunity, the solution one essentially brought about by the will of the people, August 14’s role purely that of creating the right environment to ensure success.
In the years since the end of the Cold War, Russia and the West had seen a surge of terrorist attacks and ethnic rivalry, and the national unity provided by a common enemy had evaporated as people’s perception of the threat had changed. Rebane simply wanted to channel people’s everyday frustrations to a more effective end, his co-conspirators a relentless mix of manipulation, deceit, and terror.
McDowell and Carter had helped Erdenheim become a surprising success as a management centre, almost outshining its covert role as an intelligence base and centre of operations for August 14. To some, Boston might have seemed an odd location, but its small port and the town’s vibrant ethnic mix – despite the problems brought about by Brexit – ensured Rebane’s European associates could come and go almost unnoticed. The town’s large Polish community had also proved to be an excellent source of occasional intelligence, bypassing the more official routes. Overall, Erdenheim had proved invaluable, its cutting-edge facilities and bespoke computer simulations giving August 14 a further advantage.
Now, a combination of bad luck and bad judgement was threatening to bring Erdenheim to the attention of Britain’s security services. George Saunders’ unannounced visit in response to Anne Teacher’s concerns had caught Rebane off guard, something subsequently provoking the Commander’s interest; within days he had used past contacts to probe and enquire, pushing the boundaries well beyond just idle curiosity. With unease growing amongst August 14’s backers, the decision had been made to terminate him as soon as practicable, the fickle nature of luck showing that the Commander’s murder had been a prudent choice, then with Anderson’s arrival a completely pointless one. Darren’s Westrope’s accident had thrust Erdenheim into the spotlight, attracting the unwanted interest of villagers and local journalists. If George Saunders had still been alive it would doubtless have spurred his pursuit of Erdenheim, but in place of Saunders, the coincidence of two sudden deaths had instead tempted Anderson to investigate further. A stubborn and perceptive old man traded for a persistent and slightly less perceptive younger one.
Anderson was clearly playing his own devious game, guesswork and conjecture helping him stumble towards a confused interpretation of the truth. McDowell hadn’t helped, his failure to appreciate the dangerous combination of jet lag and alcohol resulting in more public embarrassment for Erdenheim, and something else for Anderson to get his teeth into. The three-way conversation at the Farriers had supposedly revolved around trivia, nothing controversial, McDowell almost blasé as to the long-term consequences of his actions.
Anderson’s latest visit to Erdenheim had seemed a final chance to convince him there really was no story here, and Rebane had steered as close to the truth as he had dared, concerned that Anderson might already know enough to recognise any obvious inconsistency or falsehood. Sadly with Adam Devereau now seemingly involved, that could well prove a very dangerous strategy and could Rebane really afford to step back and continue to do nothing?
Anderson and Devereau were not the only ones whose interference was proving unwelcome, and the film footage of the camp in Lithuania was merely the latest example of unsolicited meddling. Whilst such revelations had helped accelerate Russia’s internal crisis, the Kremlin’s response had gone far beyond the anticipated diplomatic bluster and eventual sanctions, the Gdansk blockade inflaming tensions throughout Europe. The final outcome was impossible to predict, even for Carter and his proven computer simulations, and well beyond anyone to control.
In Moscow, August 14 had lost far too many valuable assets to remain effective, the high mortality rate highlighting the FSB’s unexpected and unwelcome fight-back. The chance of reinforcements from the facility at Gdansk was also disappearing by the hour, Poland reacting to the Russian blockade by placing a police cordon around August 14’s training camp, its occupants effectively under house arrest.
Additional resources would now need to be actioned ahead of time, their utilisation a delicate balance between breaking the Russian Federation apart and driving it back towards Soviet-style totalitarianism. As a result, Erdenheim could no longer maintain its dual function, and the Management Centre was having to tighten its belt to cope with this final phase. Erdenheim’s normal timetable had now been completely abandoned, all courses cancelled with immediate effect – apologising to a set of very unhappy clients somehow seemed the least of their problems.
Rebane took a final drag on the cigarette and considered whether it would be advantageous to change tactics, if only for a day, and turn August 14’s focus onto individuals rather than its more usual inanimate targets. It was a precarious time both for Rebane and August 14, not a time to make rash decisions, most certainly not a time to make another mistake.