That operative was Titus Black, and he’d inexplicably returned to Russia to retrieve another unwilling target, Sergei Kozlov.
Chasing Agent Black made Petrov feel as though he were Ishmael in pursuit of his elusive whale. But it was the only pursuit that Petrov felt was worthy in his life after all that Black had taken from him.
After the debacle at Kamchatka, Russian brass couldn’t let the escape go without severe consequences. Petrov was the easy target, fingered as the culprit for his lax security measures. But that was just an excuse for the higher ups to signal to President Putin that they were vigilant about rectifying the situation. They assigned blame to Petrov and stripped him of his rank before dismissing him from the military. But that was just the beginning of his troubles.
The tax commission “discovered” a considerable amount of unpaid taxes, forcing Petrov to sell his vacation house on the Caspian Sea. Two months later, his wife, the daughter of a high-ranking military leader, divorced him and won custody of their three children. He eventually lost his house too.
Petrov’s situation could’ve grown much worse had he not curried favor with a regional director within the FSB. Petrov became an agent tasked with investigating foreigners. And when a picture of Agent Black in disguise fell on his desk, he wasn’t fooled. The mere image of the man whose assault on the Kamchatka prison resulted in the complete dismantling of Petrov’s life angered him.
For days, Petrov tracked Agent Black across Russia. The American was so close to being captured in Vaya, but he’d somehow managed to escape. That was where Petrov figured out what Black was up to. And while the former CIA operative might be able to evade capture for a while, Petrov had a plan to snare Black.
One way or another, Petrov was going to exact his pound of flesh from the American.
CHAPTER 10
Washington, D.C.
BRADY HAWK ENTERED the bowels of the White House, unsure of how he felt about lying to President Young. The previous administration seemed to be at odds with Firestorm and Blunt on a regular basis. And while none of the quarrels ever trumped national security, Hawk didn’t like how it strained relations with the administration and felt it might have cost the organization the opportunity to capture high-level terrorists. That was all water over the dam at this point, but Hawk wanted to start off on better terms.
Fabricating a cover story after his first direct assignment from the White House wasn’t exactly the best way to engender trust with President Young.
As long as he never finds out …
Hawk knew better than to keep a secret from the most powerful man in the free world. At least, Hawk figured he knew what Blunt would say if the topic arose. However, discussing the decision with Blunt would’ve been a mistake, since it was better to let him claim plausible deniability than fall on his sword for the rest of the team. Hawk wouldn’t shy away from admitting the truth—and he’d give his reasons why without hesitation, confident that he did the right thing in not only allowing Charles Harris to live but also to fake his death.
Hawk was seated comfortably in a plush chair when President Young hustled into the room, flanked by a pair of Secret Service agents.
“Brady Hawk,” Young said. “How the hell are you?”
“Good, Mr. President. And you?”
Young couldn’t stop grinning as he eyed Hawk. “I’m unbelievably fantastic, thanks to you.”
“Me?” Hawk asked, feigning shock. “What ever did I do?”
Young pointed at Hawk. “You sly devil, you. You know exactly what you did, even getting it covered in the local news to send a powerful message to everyone affiliated with the Fullgood Initiative: We’re coming for you, and we’re not going to wait around for a lengthy trial.”
“One helluva message, eh?”
Young nodded. “You have no idea. I guarantee you every single one of those guys still out there who thinks we didn’t catch what they were doing is experiencing extreme paranoia right now.”
“Sure, but I thought the ultimate point was to punish Charles Harris for his role in the Fullgood Initiative.”
Young waved dismissively at Black. “Oh, sure. But this mission had some incredible secondary results accompanying it.”
“We could always just bring them in one by one and court martial them,” Hawk suggested.
Young wrinkled his nose. “Are you kidding me? That’d be a disaster. The media would cry about it not being a fair trial, and the people would begin to question our motives. Not having a trial is far better than enduring all the fallout.”
“What about transparency?”
Young chuckled and shot Hawk a sideways glance before his expression turned more sober. “Oh, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“As a heart attack,” Hawk said. “After all, isn’t openness and transparency one of the hallmarks of our democracy?”
“Used to be,” Young said while nodding. “But times have changed. We can’t do things like we used to. Everybody has to pick a side about everything. It feels like we can’t all just be Americans these days.”
“And you think Charles Harris would’ve endangered something we don’t already have?”
Young narrowed his eyes. “Watch yourself, Agent Hawk. Or do I need to remind you that you’re talking to the Commander in Chief?”
Hawk shook his head. “I understand, sir. I was just trying to gain a little clarity on your thinking.”
“You’re not paid to think. Are we clear on that point?”
“Crystal, sir.”
“Good. Now, thanks again for your service and the report. You’re dismissed.”
“One more thing, Mr. President,” Black said. “Are you familiar with a Martin Kellerman?”
“Why, of course,” Young said. “He’s one of my top campaign donors. He runs KindNet, one of the biggest tech firms in Silicon Valley and organizes plenty of fundraiser dinners for me. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, it’s not a big deal, but one of the last things Charles Harris said as he was pleading for his life was something about Kellerman and how he was going to bring down this country from within.”
Young shook his head and chuckled. “Just a desperate attempt from a desperate man trying to save his own skin.”
“So, you think Kellerman’s clean?”
“Think? I know. That man is a veritable saint. If I ever need help with an idea, Kellerman has three, ready at his disposal.”
Hawk shrugged. “I just found that to be an odd death-bed confession.”
“Why don’t you ask your father?” Young suggested. “After all, Kellerman is working with Colton Industries to develop some next-gen cybersecurity. In fact, you ought to go out and visit Kellerman to learn more about what he’s up to. Your whole team could benefit from learning about where the future of cyber warfare is headed.”
“You think he’d honestly have time to talk with me?”
“He’d make time, especially if I suggested it,” Young said. “I’ll get something on the books next week if you’re not too busy gallivanting the globe to save us all from a terrorist attack.”
“Right now, my week’s clear. That can change in an instant, but for now, I’m open.”
“Excellent,” Young said. “I’ll have my secretary coordinate something between you and Kellerman. I think you’re going to like him.”
“I look forward to finding out, sir,” Hawk said as he offered his hand to the president. The two men shook before Hawk exited the room.
On the way out of the building, Hawk couldn’t help but wonder if Charles Harris was just making a desperate attempt to smear the president or if it was a real concern. He couldn’t get a sense one way or the other. But thanks to Young, Hawk had a way to find out for himself. And he couldn’t wait.
CHAPTER 11
Kazan, Russia
BLACK WATCHED AS the FSB agent blew a plume of smoke into the air before disappearing into a waiting car. Once the car was gone, Black looked at Kozlov and nodded toward the alley.
“Follow me,” Black said, “and not a word.”
With the area cleared, Black hustled back to the door leading to Lobachevsky’s office. Black noticed all the cameras in the area and recognized that they wouldn’t have long before the FSB would spot them and unleash a team of agents on them. Black hustled through the office, pushing machines out of the way to get to the emergency exit, a tunnel that led to the city’s sewage system.
Before leaving, Black snatched a handful of the materials Lobachevsky used to create his forgeries and shoved them into a backpack he found lying in the corner. He also grabbed a couple of guns and some ammunition from Lobachevsky’s secret stash as well as a flashlight.
“Let’s go,” Black said in a hushed tone. He activated the secret panel, revealing the door.
Black went first, scurrying down the ladder ten meters before landing in the sewer. He waited until Kozlov was halfway down before closing the hatch.
“I’m not sure I can bear the stench,” Kozlov said, pulling his shirt up over his nose to try and block the smell.
“You’ll get used to it,” Black said. “Come on.”
Black was familiar with the tunnels in Kazan. On a previous mission when he was under heavy surveillance, he utilized the sewage system to get back and forth to Lobachevsky’s office to avoid the FSB agents staked out in the lobby of his hotel. But he was alone for that one. This time, it’d be more challenging.
“Will we be able to get back to the hotel?” Kozlov said. “My laptop is there along with all my contacts.”
“That’s where we’re headed,” Black said. “There’s a passageway that has an access hatch behind the hotel. We can sneak in through the back and use the stairwell to get to our room.”
“And you don’t think they’ll be waiting for us?”
Black brandished his gun. “If they try anything, I’ll be ready.”
“What about me?”
“Just stay out of the way. It shrinks their target and I’m confident that I’m the better shot between the two of us.”
“I won’t argue that point.”
The two men sloshed through the sewer for the next fifteen minutes without talking before Kozlov started chuckling.
“What’s so funny?” Black asked.
Kozlov shook his head, still laughing. “My father is probably turning over in his grave right now.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m trying to escape from Russian agents with the help of a foreign agent, whose government killed my father.”
“The U.S. had your father killed?” Black asked.
“More or less,” Kozlov said. “He worked for the KGB during the Cold War. But apparently the Americans found out about him after it was discovered that someone was leaking intelligence secrets. My father was the handler for one of your own traitors.”
“And you find all this humorous?”
“More like ironic,” Kozlov said.
“Yet you seem to trust me.”
“Because you’re the first American to believe me. I swore there wasn’t an honest person in your country, but I found one. And if we don’t stick together, we both die. It’s not noble, but the irony of this situation as we walk through a Russian sewer is comical. But maybe I only find it that way because I’m Russian. In fact, I’m not sure there’s anything more Russian than this.”
Black laughed, nodding his head in agreement. They slogged along for a few more minutes in silence before he spotted the way out he was looking for. He aimed his flashlight toward a ladder.
“Time to get outta here.”
“I thought you’d never say that,” Kozlov said, picking up the pace. He fought his way through the water, which had risen to knee-deep in this particular area.
“I haven’t seen you move that fast since I came after you at your house,” Black said.
“I only move when I must.”
“Or when the area smells like the innards of a dead cow.”
Kozlov nodded. “Where exactly does this come out?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Black said, “but I think we’ll pop up within a block of the hotel, if not right behind it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“You better,” Black said with a chuckle. “Those manhole covers are a pain in the ass to move back into place.”
Kozlov ignored the comment, scampering up the ladder. In a matter of seconds, he was out of the sewer and shouting something to Black that he couldn’t make out. Black put the flashlight in his mouth and began his ascent. He raced up the ladder and emerged through the hole that Kozlov had uncovered.
“Good work,” Black said once he reached the top.
The two men worked together and slid the cover back into place before creeping into the employee entrance of the hotel.
They navigated through a kitchen and two laundry rooms without incident. However, when they went to exit, a man started shouting at them in Russian. He appeared to hold a managerial position and didn’t want Black and Kozlov entering the guest area dressed so sloppily.
For a moment, Black considered running, but he thought that the man didn’t even know who they were. Black decided to employ his inventive storytelling talent. Not even a half-minute elapsed before Black had mesmerized the man with a story about how they were almost killed by a runaway bus, which slid through an intersection and sprayed dirty snow all over them.
“We have other uniforms you can wear,” the man said in Russian. “Let me show you where they are.”
The man gestured for Black and Kozlov to follow him back to the laundry room. He quickly got them outfitted with the proper attire and sent them on their way.
Black’s eyes widened as he looked back at Kozlov.
“This is a major score,” Black said. “But keep your head down in case anyone recognizes you.”
Kozlov acknowledged Black’s directions with a nod and they continued to weave through the underbelly of the hotel. Eventually, they found a sign pointing them to the stairwell entrance for staff only.
“At least we won’t run into any FSB agents in these back stairwells,” Black said.
“Don’t be so sure,” Kozlov said. “Wherever the FSB wants to go in this country, it goes.”
They hustled up the stairs to the hallway where their room was located and inspected the area while remaining largely concealed beyond the corner of a wall.
“It’s clear,” Black whispered. “We need to move fast, but act casual.”
They walked quickly to their room and unlocked it. Black pulled out his weapon and checked the hallway one final time before entering the room. He turned the lights on and charged inside with his gun trained in front of him. He rushed over to the closet and checked it before clearing the entire room and bathroom. Satisfied that they were alone and their stuff hadn’t been tampered with, he locked the door and fell onto the bed.
“Do you really think they don’t know we’re here?” Kozlov asked.
Black shook his head. “I don’t know, but we need to leave tonight.”
“I’m a little shaky,” Kozlov said. “I need something to eat.”
Black sighed. “We need to lay low until tonight.”
“I don’t know if it was that long hike and all the adrenaline, but I must have food. I’m going to pass out if I don’t get it.”
“Can we at least wait until it gets dark?” Black asked as he glanced at his watch. It read one o’clock in the afternoon.
“I’m not sure.”
“It’ll be dark in a little over three hours. You can hang in there that long, can’t you?”
“I guess we’ll see if you’re not offering to let me go get some food on my own.”
Black shook his head. “We need to stay together if we’re going to get out of this. Who knows what kind of story they’ve concocted now that Lobachevsky is dead.”
Kozlov groaned as he removed his glasses and then buried his head in his hands. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
&nbs
p; Black chuckled. “You didn’t really have a choice. And I can promise you that this little adventure is better than the bullet I was going to put in your head.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
Black reached out to Shields to update her on what was happening.
“Lobachevsky is dead?” she asked as if she didn’t believe what Black was telling her. “How?”
“Someone gunned him down in his chair,” he said. “I found his camera along with some other supplies he used to forge the Russian IDs. So, wish me luck.”
“You’re going to try that yourself?”
“I’m always up for learning something new,” Black said.
“But if you fail …”
“If I fail, I’ll go to Lefortovo. Or if I’m lucky, they’ll kill me. But I can’t fail unless I try. And let’s be honest here, my options are extremely limited.”
“I won’t argue with you there.”
“All right, let me get to this, but do me a favor and keep an eye on us. I’m still really uncertain if we’re going to be able to sneak out of the city without getting caught.”
“I’ll be here when you need me,” she said.
“You’re the best, Shields.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Black hung up and went to work on creating Russian IDs for him and Kozlov. The hacker had already fallen asleep on the bed. Though Black was jealous, he didn’t want to wake his new partner. The anxiety and tension that accompanied most of Black’s missions would’ve taken a toll on anyone. But add that with trying to escape with someone who wants to put you in a small cell in one of the most fortified prisons in the world, and you’ve got yourself a stress bomb just waiting to implode from the inside out.
Black worked on the forgeries for an hour and a half. When he was finished, he held them up to the light, inspecting them. The hologram glistened beneath his bedside lamp.
Power Play (Titus Black Thriller series Book 7) Page 6
