Play@YSDC

It's hard to believe that the city you arrive in hosted the Olympics less than a decade ago. Your memories of watching them on television clash soundly with the reality of this war. Flying in, you notice the Zetra venue - where Scott Hamilton and Katarina Witt skated to gold medals - now largely reduced to rubble in last year's fighting.

The airport at Butmir has been controlled by the UN for almost a year, and at the present only allows its own or humanitarian aircraft to land there. NATO planes enforcing the no-fly zone streak across the skies every few minutes. Canadian forces administer the airport, and you hear much conversation in French, English and Serbo-Croatian. There appears to be a fair amount of signage in Cyrillic, as well as Russian personnel manning passport control. Everyone looks to be in a hurry, so you each hope the scrutiny of your covers are perfunctory. The last communication from Cell A assumed that someone working for SABLE SHAMAN would be nearby, and any time spent without local guidance might mean a longer trail to Bardysh....

The young American makes a show of checking his watch languidly while waiting in the queue. He slowly digs through carry-on bag and produces a crumpled pack of cigarettes and places one in his mouth, humming softly.

Dr. Olivia Carpenter gets her cover identity's passport ready as she waits in line. The excitement of her first mission is still fresh, and she recalls her grandfather's story of his first action in Norway in 1940 and her grandmother's account of her first assignment for the French Resistance later that same year. She looks around, taking in the airport and the people passing through it, trying to figure out who their contact might be.

As far as the Butmir airport customs are concerned, Luka Horvat is Olaf Janssen, a Swedish humanitarian worker. With his hair dyed blonde, blue contact lenses (expensive and irritating, but a worthwhile investment), and a feigned lack of expertise in the Serbo-Croatian language (communicating with the Canadians in French, though listening in to their English conversations), he acts the part to get through without much scrutiny as a foolish do-gooder from a non-NATO neutral. As he passes into arrivals, he keeps his eye open for his cell members and their local contact.

Within five minutes of your arrival, the three of you are separately asked to wait in an office room apart from other arrivals. After taking the time for you all to confirm your affiliation with Delta Green, an older Russian officer enters the room with an angry look on your face. The ID badge on his lapel reads "Dolinin V" in Cyrillic and English. Without a greeting he slams a stack of papers onto the desk before you, and you see that it contains dossiers on your current covers.

"How in the world can you be traveling under these names? I must express my disappointment that your tradecraft is so shoddy - I half-expected you to arrive on the same flight. The Cold war may indeed be over, but I assure you there are still people watching the comings and goings of Westerners with interest."

Austin gives a particularly Gallic shrug.
"I'll have you know Aurelien Castets is a well regarded freelance journalist."

He flicks ash on the ancient steel table, annoyed. He knows it'd be easier if he could just have his uncle John sort it out. But that is out of the question.

"I'm sorry," says Olivia. "This is my first assignment, and I haven't had much training yet. What exactly is wrong with Dr. Rachel Spenser? I didn't even pick the name, it was given to me. If it's that I look too young to be a doctor, thank you, but I assure you that I am one - and I'm also a couple of months younger than it says here."

Luka smiles. "You didn't seem to pay much attention when I was an East German border guard for three months, comrade, he says drily in Russia, and then switches to English, "And to think I spent all that money on these contact lenses."

"Perhaps I should apologize then, for the fault is likely that of your superiors. If I was able to tell whom your agency had sent, then others might also have done so."

He shows crooked teeth in a smile with little warmth. "I am Vsevelod Dolinin. Polkovnik - colonel - in the Russian Army, and GRU. Decades ago our organizational ancestors worked with each other, and we must do so again."

Austin leaned back in his chair awaiting what else the Russian was going to say.

Olivia smiles back. "Well met, Colonel Dolinin," she says. "I'm glad we can be on the same side again. When our organizations' forebears worked together before, was this during the Great Patriotic War?" she asks, using the Russian name for World War Two. It was the only time that the United States and the Soviet Union had been allies, so it would make sense.

"Your group was instrumental in helping us eliminate fascists during the war," his smile turns predatory, "as well as certain rivals who would truck with what the Nazi pigs would have unleashed. Meeting in Germany, members of both our agencies were gratified to know that there was someone with a similar disposition to such horrors and the men who dealt with them in both armies. At that time, we devised a method to contact each other that could penetrate both Iron Curtain and Berlin Wall.

It has never been used, not even in 1952 when members of your organization visited Siberia to deal with a scientist that had disappeared into Smersh's maw during the war.

But things have changed, and where once people courted the darkness in the name of patriotism, the motive is greed. A priceless object of Russian patrimony has been stolen from the state and brought here, for ultimate sale in the West."

Olivia nods, glad to have picked up this piece of intelligence. "What was stolen, and do you know who has done it?" she asks, getting down to business.

Luka furrows his brow, ""The Necronomi-what?"

"I've never heard of the book either," says Olivia. "Did the thief talk? Do you know how the thief made contact with Bardysh to arrange the sale?"

Surely, if this book is as important as you say, you would be throwing military assets as well.

Austin lights another cigarette, but lets it smolder before taking a drag.

"Do you know from interrogation of the thief how the seller was planning to contact Bardysh?" asks Olivia. "That could help us get to him. With enough knowledge and a decent forgery, we might even be able to pose as the sellers to get close to him."

"If I can get some information on the buyer, I can pose as anyone." Luka says confidently, "Alternatively, we could pose as rival buyers with a better offer. We could catch Bardysh by manipulating his greed, and then when the buyers come gunning for us, we get them too."

"Thank you, that would be helpful," says Olviva. "Do you have a dossier on Bardysh? Anything we can learn about the man could be an advantage."

Olivia nods. "Do you know of any local contacts who could assist us?" she asks.

"Yes, we do have our own assets," says Olivia. "Since they're more reliable, we'll rely on them." She looks to the other agents to see if they have any questions.

The UN Mission Headquarters is directly outside the airport entrance. Dolinin gives you a signed pass that would allow you to enter for the records.

"Thank you," says Olivia. "If we need to contact you again, how should we do it?"

Olivia nods, ready to leave if nobody else has anything else to say.

Using the pass Dolinin provides, you can enter the UN Mission HQ and request information about Bardysh. As a known war criminal, his comings and goings are keenly noted, in the hopes that he can be apprehended and sent to the Hague.

It is noted in checkpoint logs that he has made several trips to the home of a musician in town, Radom Posvic. During these visits he was accompanied by such a large contingent of bodyguards that it was not possible to detain him. When they leave Sarajevo, they travel northeast towards Serbian-held territory.

Also, a few days ago an even larger group of his men left town on a road that takes them away from their usual route. The convoy was thoroughly inspected and all present at the checkpoint swear that Bardysh was not present.

Reasoning that Radom Posvic must be important to Bardysh's plans for him to visit him so frequently, Olivia looks up his records as well while she is at the UN Mission.

His address is easy to find. He is a well-known professor and a bit of a minor celebrity in town. It strikes you as odd that a Serb would be visiting him, however.

While he's there, Luka takes a look at the records of the convoy inspection, if they exist. Looking for anything out of the ordinary.

As far as the trips to see Posvic, they are irregular. But at least four were noted in the past month, including two on successive days.

The checkpoint log notes that the group was heavily armed, but as they were heading into Serbia this was not unexpected. Posvic' name is on the list of passports that were noted.

"A stakeout may take a week or more for Bardysh to show up," says Olivia, "and we might not have that long. Perhaps one or two of us should visit Posvic, taking advantage of the opportunity to plant bugs and tap his phone."

Luka considers for a moment. "While one of us taps his phone, I think I will try to make more direct contact. Since he is a well-known Professor, I should be able to forge myself some academic documents and dress up a bit to pass off as a visiting scholar, preferably from far away. I'll find out his area of specialization, prepare some plausible questions, and guide the conversation if I can."

"All right," says Olivia, "but I haven't had any training in how to tap a phone or plant bugs."

OOC,Neither of us has any points in Conceal, which would probably be what we'd use to hide a bug, but [b]Austin[/b] does. Is he still with us? His player hasn't posted in a very long time.

"That is unfortunate. Say, you're a doctor? Pharmaceutical knowledge? How about we drug him, move him to a safe house, and interrogate him there?" Luka grins manically, "A sedative to take him out, a mild hallucinogen to confuse him, and we'll play roles as Iranian agents wanting information on Bardysh. We'll get the information we need, dump him somewhere, and confuse and confound the enemy."

"Yes, I do have the necessary skills," says Olivia. "We could do that, but it's not exactly subtle. Let's call that Plan B. I'd like to try observing him first."