March 26, 1965, 8:59 PM
Men in dark suits made their way into the dimmed briefing room, the seal of the Federal Bureau of Investigation on the screen of the amphitheater style room. Curved benches and office chairs set in elevated rows faded into the darkness towards the back wall. A solitary man with thinning dark hair combed straight back stood at the podium watching the black and gray suits make the shadows appear to move. He pulled back the cuff of his own gray suit and looked at his gold Rolex wristwatch, waiting until the second hand ticked to twelve.
“We’re starting the briefing, take your seats.” He stepped up to the podium and opened his notebook while everyone sat down. A few cigarettes were lit as lighter caps snapped shut. “Tonight’s operation is dangerous and has visibility up to the Oval Office, so I expect your top performances, as always.” He paused, ensuring everyone was ready to take notes. The slide projector clicked and showed the image of a middle-aged man in jeans and a brown leather jacket lighting a cigarette while leaning on a car. Short brown hair, no significant features, and overall very unremarkable. “We have assigned this man the code name, Charlatan.” A brief darkness as the slide projector clicked to another view of him. “Charlatan is the lead agent for a local cell of Soviet spies. They funnel information through him back to Moscow. He’s going by the name Michael Redland, we believe his actual name is Mikhail Pavahuda, originally from Kiev.” Another slide clicked into view, showing a used car lot. “He owns this car dealership in Annapolis, Maryland Motors. We believe it’s a legitimate business and cleared the personnel.” A brick apartment building clicked into view on the next slide. “This is his known residence, and where we’re going to apprehend him later tonight.” Several of the agents in the room shuffled in their chairs.
“We’re placing two surveillance teams outside the building. Johnston, Reeves, and Milton are on team one at the front door, call sign One Sam Ten. Poe, Glass, and Sanders are at the back, call sign One Sam Twenty. Entry teams are on their way over from Quantico, mainly made up from the instructor corps using call signs One Raven One and Two respective to the surveillance teams. Four state police units will be on standby as backup.” He paused as he saw a hand raised. “Yes, Reeves?”
“They’re sending the instructors to do this raid? What’s wrong with the regular teams?”
The presenter leaned forward on the podium before responding. “This should give you an idea of how badly we want this guy. We’re sending in the masters who teach the teams because he can’t get away. This is the highest priority out of five raids tonight in a sweep of his known accomplices. The leading digit on the call signs designates teams on this operation. Teams will use radio tactical channels two through six with tac one being the command channel. This is the largest operation in years, so Agents from regional offices are here to augment the teams.” Another hand went up. “Yes, Milton?”
“What can you tell us about Charlatan? Why is he so dangerous and what should we expect?”
“This investigation lead is Special Agent Glass, I’m going to have him give a profile on Charlatan.” He stepped aside as Agent Paul Glass stepped up to the podium, appearing out of the darkness like a six-foot wraith in his impeccable gray suit around broad shoulders, white shirt, black tie under his light skin and black flat top hair cut with some steel gray hairs showing at his temples.
“Thank you, Director Hoover,” he began, giving his boss a slight nod. The slide projector showed another surveillance picture. “Charlatan was first discovered two years ago when we apprehended a mole in the Naval Academy using a blue dye operation, code named Fuchsin 63. This operation used a fictional system supposedly designed at the academy that would allow us to track Soviet ships and submarines as they left or returned to port. The surveillance system was referred to as Prometheus because having an eagle tormenting someone was too good of a euphemism to pass up.” He paused for breath as several agents smiled and nodded their approval. “The false information we planted allowed us to apprehend the mole who later identified Charlatan as his contact, relaying the information back to the Soviets. He is an illegal Soviet agent, therefore we believe he is part of the KGB’s first directorate. We have firm evidence they recruited him from the Spetsnaz special forces making him extremely dangerous, trained in many forms of combat and unconventional warfare.” Another slide showed Mike as a younger man with the trademark blue and white striped undershirt under Soviet camouflage with other soldiers. “We gave him the code name Charlatan because he changes his appearance often and is difficult to recognize and eludes surveillance due to his use of disguises. Once the operation begins nobody is allowed in or out of the building, he’s that hard to recognize and track. Apprehending him will break down their entire spy network in the area. Questions?” Paul waited for a moment, then returned the podium. “Thank you, Director Hoover.”
J. Edgar Hoover looked over his team as he resumed the podium. “You are the Counterintelligence team, this is the closest we’ve been to an illegal agent. I expect you to be the elite agents you are and bring him in tonight. They’re damn hard to find so he doesn’t get away, understood?”
“Yes sir!” the agents replied in unison out of the darkness.
“Go bring him in!”