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Washington DC, US — CISA office


"So, how did you leave it with them?" Mitch, Doug's overseer at CISA asked, his voice slightly muffled as it worked its way around a mouth full of yellow birthday cake left in the break room from a party the night before.

"I told them I was in high school at the time," Doug told him.

"Which was true, for most of it," Mitch pointed out.

"Well, yeah, for the development. I came in way at the end and my contribution was minimal, and likely taken out when it launched."

"Fricken Mossad," Mitch said, as he shoved the last bite of cake into his mouth.

"Hey," Doug said, his voice hushed and his expression showing he wished Mitch's voice were less loud.

"What? You worried about antisemitism? With how they're acting?"

"Trust me," Doug told him, his voice remaining hushed, "that pendulum is going to swing back the other way soon."

"You're the analyst. But they are burning bridges like they're free around here."

"Around here?" Mitch laughed, and then with heavy sarcasm added, "Like this is a pulse point of DC."

Samantha, Doug's partner came through the break room door, "You hear about APT29?"

"Cozy Bear? What about them?" Doug asked, turning his full attention to Samantha.

"They are on their way to Tehran," she said, as she eyed the remaining birthday cake.

"You'll just hate yourself," Doug said with a fast glance at the cake remains. "Why are they going to Tehran? More importantly: How are they going?"

"First class in a Military transport filled with lumber. And the important part is they were invited." She then yanked her eyes away from the cake, opened the door and left the room — and the conversation.

"Invited?" Doug asked, following her out of the break room, slightly annoyed by the bouncing of her ponytail.

Samantha didn't appear as if she were going to say much more as she wove her way through the allies and lanes of the cubical landscape. Then she said, "Came in from the Mossad. You should have a copy of the notice in your inbox."

Doug split off from Samantha's trajectory and made a fast left turn into his cubical area and sat down. His hands, seeming of their own mind, flashed across the keyboard, bringing his secure email up on the screen. In moments he was reading the bulletin. "It doesn't say why they are going to Tehran. Could you call them?"

"No," Samantha said.

"Why?"

"Because they don't say, which means — they don't know or don't want to tell you. Calling them will only produce angst. Or, rather, more angst." Samantha stated. "You're lucky I bothered to track you down to let you know anything."

She was right. She didn't have to do that. She was his partner, not his secretary. They slept together several times, when they worked late. But that didn't make her his servant. Both of these points she happily reminded him of whenever he pressed it further than he had so far.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, hearing it creak under his weight. Looking at his gut, he said, "You don't think it might have something to do with the nuclear program, do you?"

The activity in her cubical came to a sudden stop. "Why would you think that?"

Leaning forward he grabbed his mouse and opened several command windows, and started making his way through the dark-web toward Russia, and the military air transports. "Lumber," he said quietly. "Nothing really," he answered Samantha, "just that meeting, the one I almost went to last night, was on that subject."

Activity in her cubical resumed but had a more subdued sound. "Why would you almost go to a meeting? At night? Without me?"

All very good questions. Very good indeed.

After a few minutes he could feel her standing behind him, reading his monitor over his shoulder, "Find anything useful?" Her voice was quiet, near his ear.

"I found the flight, and the flight orders. It's not going down there on the GRU purse. This is being paid straight out of number one big daddy funds."

"Huh, so he's sending them for a purpose of his own. Well, they'll be there in six or seven hours. Want to hook up with Chinese food and Jolt on the big screen, tonight?"

"Yes," he said. "Definitely yes."

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