Chapter 149: Cleanup
After being caught in that heavy downpour, Sheldon caught a cold as expected. No one knew better than Ron, who grew up with him, just how difficult it was to deal with a sick Sheldon.
Ron was so spooked that he quickly took refuge at Fiona's place and didn't dare go home.
But he wasn't worried about Sheldon's condition at all. According to Leonard, Sheldon was being well taken care of by that new grad student, Ramona.
Even so, Ron still didn't dare return home because he wasn't sure if this was some elaborate revenge scheme Leonard had cooked up for abandoning them at the paintball field.
"What's the deal with this intelligence report?" Ron pulled out a file from a stack and slammed it on Andy's desk. All intelligence was first reviewed and screened by Andy before being forwarded to Ron.
Ron claimed it was to train Andy's analytical skills and prevent cognitive decline, but in reality, it was just a legitimate excuse to slack off.
"Is there something wrong with it? Seems like a perfectly standard intelligence brief to me."
"I mean, how did this end up here?" Ron's eye twitched. "I remember explicitly declining every invitation from the FBI and CIA to work on this case."
Indeed, the case Ron was looking at was the Klaus case he'd already rejected.
"Before you started work today, a CIA operative dropped it off," Andy continued his calculations without looking up. "If you could drag yourself out of Cinderella's bed every morning and not be late for work, you might have actually met this operative."
Cinderella was Andy's nickname for Fiona—quite fitting, actually.
"Operative?" Ron smirked like he'd just heard a good joke. "Are you talking about the pretty boy who looks like the prince from a Disney movie?"
"Yes, seems you know him. No wonder he mentioned you when he stopped by."
"I bet he didn't say anything flattering," Ron grimaced.
"Actually, he kept singing your praises, saying you're honest, brave, and honorable—that you completely embody the highest standards for an agent."
"So you're trying to dump this on me? Not happening!" Ron grabbed his jacket from the coat rack. "I'm stepping out for a bit."
The CIA, FBI, and NSA have an unspoken rule: accepting intelligence provided by another agency constitutes agreement to participate in the case. Andy, being relatively new, naturally didn't know this protocol, and Ron didn't blame him.
But this case was indeed a minefield he wanted to avoid.
On the surface, it was just a case of a mid-level criminal illegally attempting to purchase weapons of mass destruction.
But in reality, there were two major red flags.
First, even a nuclear warhead, even one decommissioned by the former Soviet Union, would cost a fortune. Where would a crime boss who made his money in human trafficking get the funds to buy such a thing?
And what would he do with it? Use it in turf wars with other gangs? Have you ever seen organized crime settling territorial disputes with nuclear weapons?
So Ron was certain Klaus hadn't wanted to buy this thing for himself; he was merely a middleman, and someone else was the real buyer!
Second, where had this nuclear warhead come from? Even though the seller claimed it was old Soviet stock, Ron clearly remembered that a similarly large warhead had gone missing in France a month earlier, and it still hadn't been recovered.
Sure, the specifications and yield were slightly different, so others hadn't made the connection yet, but Ron was absolutely certain the one Klaus intended to trade was the missing French warhead.
The reason was simple: the seller's name was Yuri Orlov!
Getting into his car, Ron called Orlov directly: "Yuri, you maniac! What were you thinking? How could you even touch something like this? You've lost your mind chasing money!"
"Sorry, I didn't expect it to be this hot."
"What do you mean?" He didn't even know what he was selling? How was that possible?
"This was sold to me by a Ukrainian general I've been working with. We've done business many times before. This time, he said he had something big and asked me to help him move it. I said sure, but who knew it would be something like this! Damn it!"
Orlov's voice was full of regret. But if regret solved problems, what would we need intelligence agents for?
"You've really screwed me this time! I'm telling you, I'll clean up your mess again, but we need to renegotiate our profit split," Ron said wearily.
Orlov quickly agreed, "No problem, even if it's 30/70. I mean, you get 70 and I get 30."
"We'll discuss that later. Let's let this situation cool down first. You have no idea how much heat this is generating. The CIA, the FBI, everyone's mobilized..."
After ending the call, Ron didn't immediately start the car. Instead, he closed his eyes and began strategizing.
The CIA's two incompetents weren't the real concern; the real problem was Hobbs. Ron knew he was highly trusted by his superiors and even had access to classified resources.
Therefore, this matter had to be resolved before Hobbs became fully involved in the investigation.
The good news was that the two idiots handling the case weren't just incompetent—they were also rivals in love. And, quite predictably, they were competing for the same woman.
This could be leveraged.
The only two people Orlov had dealt with were Klaus and the general. If both were eliminated, everything would be resolved.
As everyone knows, dead men tell no tales.
All that remained was to ensure that dangerous package got intercepted by the appropriate authorities. According to Orlov, it hadn't even left France yet.
What exactly are the French intelligence services good for? They're so incompetent they still haven't located it.
So, step one was to assess how far those two idiots had progressed in their investigation!
Ron made his decision, immediately started the car, and drove toward the CIA's regional office.
"Paige, can you help me locate Klaus?" Ron drove while using a secure phone to dial the only number programmed into it.
"Oh, honey, you only call me when you need something," Paige's tone sounded hurt. "How are things going with your Cinderella lately?"
"Not bad. You clearly said you didn't mind me seeing other people." Ron was caught off guard by Paige's tone. "If you're free soon, how about I come visit?"
"That's more like it, though it sounds transactional."
Ron breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright then, can you tell me where Klaus is right now?"
"He's in Los Angeles," the sound of keyboard typing came through from Paige's end. "Yesterday afternoon, port security cameras caught him leaving the cargo terminal. He must have arrived on a smuggling vessel. I'm guessing he's here for revenge against the agents who killed his associate.
Service completed. Don't forget to come cheer up your kitten."
(End of chapter)
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