Petrov chuckled. “Those are fake news. I can confirm that he does not have rock hard abs or a muscular chest like the ones depicted in those pictures.”
“So, you don’t like Putin?” Black asked.
Petrov shot a sideways glance at Black and scowled. “I never said such a thing.”
A faint grin broke across Black’s face. “Maybe we’re more alike than we’d like to think.”
The three men broke into polite laughter, though Black wasn’t sure how genuine Petrov was. Sharing humanity was one of the biggest keys to survival while being held captive, something Black sought to do. But would it be enough? That was the question nagging Black, and one he wasn’t likely to get an answer to any time soon.
As they neared the border, Petrov decided to stop at a gas station to refuel as well as use the restroom.
“Too much coffee,” Petrov said with a grin. He told Kozlov and Black that they could use the restroom after him.
With Petrov using the facilities, Black searched for an opportunity to communicate with Shields. There wasn’t time to make a call on the payphone outside, and Petrov kept his weapon, his keys, and his phone on him every second of the day. But Black’s sharp eye noticed a long-shot possibility when he saw the cashier’s cell phone sitting on the counter.
Black asked the man for a pack of cigarettes, and the moment he turned around, Black pocketed the phone. Then when Black inspected the cigarettes, he turned his nose up at it and slid it across the counter back to the man.
Petrov gestured for Black to use the restroom next. He entered and locked the door behind him before turning on the water and the vent. Confident that his conversation couldn’t be heard beyond the door, he dialed Shields’ number.
“This is Black,” he said as she answered.
“Thank God,” she said. “I was starting to get a little concerned. Are you okay? And where are you?”
“I’m fine for now, but we’re on the border of Georgia and Turkey, headed to a small village in northeastern Turkey, Cildir. Ever heard of it?”
“I’m looking into it right now.”
“I don’t have long, so don’t waste your time. I want to know any and everything about Russian general Sasha Petrov.”
“Sasha Petrov,” she repeated. “Give me a second.”
Black listened as she typed furiously on her keyboard. “Okay, here’s what I’ve got. He was stationed at the prison on the Kamchatka Peninsula and was in charge of security there. He’s got a well-decorated history, including a handful of medals for bravery. But he was terminated following an incident at the prison where an American escaped. Hmmm. This story sounds very familiar.”
“I’m all too aware.”
“Did you already know all of this?”
“Petrov has made it explicitly clear that he was pursuing me out of revenge. Apparently, he blames me for his plight in life, though he then said I was to be thanked.”
“What for?”
“Helping him escape his marriage. Look, it’s a long story and one I don’t care to retell right now. I just wanted to make sure all of this was true. Anything else I can use against him?”
“It says here that his grandfather was executed for selling secrets to the U.S. during the Cold War. Not much else in this file that you could use.”
“That’s more than helpful,” Black said. “Now, be ready because if I get a chance, I’ve got an uplink device hidden in my shoe that I’m going to connect to DarkNite’s computer. Once it’s online, I’m not sure how much time you’ll have to download everything, but we need to get what we can.”
“Roger that.”
“Now I’ve gotta go before Petrov starts to suspect anything. I’ll reach out soon.”
“Take care,” she said. “And Black?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever you do, don’t kill Petrov,” she said. “The last thing we want to do right now is create an international incident.”
“Roger that.”
Black hung up and then erased any record of the call in the phone’s history. After putting the phone in his pocket, he flushed the toilet and exited the bathroom.
Kozlov hurriedly rushed past Black to enter the restroom. Petrov was standing outside and wore a furrowed brow as he looked at Black.
“Everything all right?” Petrov asked.
Black nodded, hyper aware of the phone bulging out of his pants pockets.
“You were in there for a long time.”
Black rubbed his stomach. “The food on the airplane wasn’t kind to me.”
“What’s in your pocket?” Petrov asked.
For a fleeting moment, Black wondered if this might be his chance to break free from Petrov. Black prepared to hit Petrov against the side of the face with the cell phone when the bathroom door swung open and bumped Black. He staggered forward a few feet, bumping into Petrov. During those few seconds, Black slipped the phone onto one of the shelves and palmed a pack of crackers. When he stood upright again, he held the crackers up for Petrov to see.
“Are you trying to get caught for stealing?” Petrov asked, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Do I need to tell you what they do to thieves in this country?”
Black shrugged. “I only had it in my pocket because I was in the restroom. I was going to ask you to pay for it, I swear.”
“Fine,” Petrov said, holding out his hand. “Give it to me.”
Black gave Petrov the crackers. He went to the counter and paid the cashier for them before handing them back to Black once they were outside.
“Next time, just talk to me first, okay?” Petrov said. “We don’t want any more unfortunate misunderstandings.”
“Of course not,” Black said.
“Now, get in the car. We still have a little bit of a drive ahead of us.”
CHAPTER 21
Washington, D.C.
J.D. BLUNT GREETED President Young at their regular meeting location deep within the bowels of the White House. The two men exchanged pleasantries quickly before turning their conversation to the important matters Young wanted to discuss.
“How could this possibly happen?” Young asked. “Dixon is one of my strongest allies in the House. Without her on the defense committee, I’m left with nothing but a bunch of hawks looking for any reason to push us into war again.”
“I think she’s being set up, sir,” Blunt said.
“Set up? By who?”
Blunt shrugged. “Not sure at this point. I know she tends to rub some people the wrong way because she’s a strong and confident woman. But your guess is as good as mine.”
Young clenched his jaw. “I bet this has something to do with that defense oversight bill Congress is trying to ram through.”
“Well, they can’t ram anything through unless you sign it.”
Young sighed. “It’s a lose-lose proposition for me and they know it. If I try to veto that bill, I look like a power-hungry tyrant.”
Blunt chuckled. “That’s taking it a little too far, don’t you think?”
“It’s how the media will portray me, at least. But the fact of the matter is, if I cede my authority to investigate the military, I have no recourse for when things go sideways like what happened with the Fullgood Initiative. The investigation I initiated led to the dismissal of those who were leveraging their bureaucratic positions for power. And now, Congress wants me to yield that to them?”
“There are quite a few people with a vested interest in seeing status quo return in the military.”
Young stood before pacing around the room. “We don’t need more wars. What we need is what we’re doing, targeting the people responsible for creating chaos the world over and eliminating them. Wars should only be a last resort.”
“We’re in agreement on that one, but there are some people in both parties that don’t see it that way,” Blunt said. “And while I’d prefer to turn half of the trouble-making countries into glass, that’s not the winning strategy.”
“Ex
actly, but my hands get tied when these officials at the Pentagon are egging me into conflicts to appease military contractors. And if I don’t have the ability to investigate with an independent commission, my hand will be forced.”
“You’re still the president.”
Young huffed a soft laugh through his nose. “I thought you’d been around this city for a while, at least long enough to know that my power isn’t necessarily supreme.”
“No, I get that part. But I still think you can put pressure on lawmakers to refrain from making a power play.”
“Believe me, I’m working behind the scenes on this one, making deals and proposals to keep it from happening.”
“Is it working?”
“To be honest, my most hopeful outlook is one that’s a long shot. I have a small group from the House that’s willing to help me. But I heard this morning that one of them is teetering on defecting, which would essentially eliminate the group’s power.”
At that point, Warren Woods entered the room and sat down in a chair.
“Saving the world, Mr. President, with Senator Blunt here?” Woods asked.
“A bit like talking about these issues with you. He hasn’t been any more helpful in advising me with any new strategies,” Young said.
“That’s because there aren’t any,” Woods said, working a pen through his knuckles. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Congress is led by some of the slickest people in the country, no offense, Senator Blunt.”
“None taken,” Blunt said, “especially since I’m no longer part of the cabal.”
“Dixon was able to keep that bill from getting to the floor,” Young said. “But with her out of the picture, it’s going to get through and will get passed.”
“And you should sign it and then ignore it the next time you feel like there’s a problem,” Woods said as he raised his pen in the air emphatically. “Appoint your own commission, and if Congress tries to sue you to stop, we let the courts decide if this bill is even constitutional. It’s the only way to beat them at their own game.”
“You’re assuming SCOTUS will rule in our favor—and that’s a big assumption,” Young said.
Wood nodded. “Either way, it’s better for you politically. To the average voter, it’ll look like you are a reasonable leader. And if you need to challenge the law, I’m sure you’ll win. Meanwhile, if you decide not to sign it, you’ll get branded a tyrant and it’ll be used as a bludgeon against you in the next election.”
Young growled as he stopped and leaned against the far wall. He folded his arms and stared down at his feet. “Is there a way to get Dixon out of this mess?”
“Maybe,” Blunt said.
“She could save me a lot of scrambling and posturing if she were to retain her position on that committee,” Young said.
“It won’t be easy,” Blunt said, “but I’ll figure out something. I’m sure there’s a legal loophole we can exploit to get her back in Congress.”
“Whatever it takes,” Young said.
“Of course, Mr. President,” Blunt said.
Blunt shook the hands of both men before exiting the room. He jammed a cigar into his mouth and bit down hard on the tobacco. The minute he committed to getting Dixon out of custody and back to the Capitol, he’d regretted it.
He needed a fresh idea. And he needed it yesterday.
CHAPTER 22
Cildir, Turkey
BLACK SHIFTED IN HIS seat as Petrov stopped to inquire about the exact whereabouts of the address Irina had given them for DarkNite. Outside, the moonlight glistened off a fresh coat of snow while a stiff wind rattled the windows of the car. Black turned to Kozlov, who’d remained relatively quiet for most of the trip.
“What will you do when you see DarkNite?” Black asked.
Kozlov shrugged. “I doubt I’ll do anything. Doing his bidding is what’s landed me in this position. All I want to do is get back to my wife. I’d do anything to get out of here.”
“Are you willing to take out Petrov?” Black asked.
“Are you asking for my help?” Kozlov said with a laugh. “You? The man who tracked me down and is responsible for getting me back into this mess?”
Black grunted. “No one made you work with a hacker who infiltrated the CIA’s database. In fact, I think you might be rather proud of that fact.”
“What difference does it make now? I’m already being made to do things I don’t want to do, and my freedom is at stake.”
“Well, if you’d like to work with me, I think we could make a great team,” Black said. “Not to mention, I’m confident that even without guns we can overpower Petrov.”
“But we must get DarkNite first?”
Black nodded. “I’m afraid there’s no way around that.”
“How can I trust you?”
“Trust doesn’t come by way of a simple verification. It’s something you earn by proving where your loyalties lie.”
“And where’s that for you?”
“With my country’s security,” Black said. “People deserve to be free and not just in the United States. I believe everyone the world over has a right to the kind of freedom we have to speak our minds and make our own path. And when I say speak our minds, I mean, say whatever we want without being offensive.”
Kozlov scrunched up his face and cocked his head. “What?”
“It’s a joke,” Black said, offering a thin smile. “I believe you should be able to say whatever you want to say. However, that’s not an opinion shared by all Americans, Constitution be damned.”
“You have people who want to police your speech?”
Black nodded. “It’s becoming a problem.”
“Sounds like Russia. You can’t call any government official a cotton-headed ninny muggins without getting a visit from the FSB.”
Black stifled a laugh for a moment before the dam broke. He was still in stitches when Petrov returned to the car.
“What did you find so humorous, Agent Black?” Petrov asked.
“Apparently, Mr. Kozlov and I share the same taste in comedic Christmas movie comedies,” Black said, happy that he could stave off any suspicion with the truth.
Petrov turned to Black and glared at him. “You sit on a throne of lies!”
Black tried not to show any emotion, creating for an awkward moment of silence. Then Petrov cocked his head to one side as a faint smile spread across his lips.
“I thought you said Elf was your favorite movie?” Petrov asked.
“I did,” Black said.
“That was a line from the movie, remember?”
Black and Kozlov both broke into laughter again, this time joined by Petrov. The three men continued talking about their favorite Christmas movies before Petrov put the car into drive and returned to the road. They traded some of the best comedic lines from the movie as well as the insults. This conversation went on for a few more minutes before something in the road made Petrov slam on the brakes.
The car slipped on the ice for a second before regaining traction. Petrov let out a string of Russian expletives before the car came to a halt.
A large sign stretched across the road, which was now hugging a lake. The moon shimmered over the water but quickly disappeared as a dense fog rolled down the mountain and into the area.
“What is happening?” Kozlov asked.
“We need to turn around and get out of here,” Black said. “If not, we’re going to get stuck trying to navigate out of this mess.”
Petrov sighed and pointed down the road. “It’s only two more miles straight ahead.”
Black shook his head. “It’s never just two more miles straight ahead. You need to turn around.”
“We can walk,” Petrov said with a sneer.
“Not with the wind and that fog that just blew through here,” Black said. “I doubt you’d be able to keep track of us.”
Petrov sighed. “And you find this to be problematic?”
“Not if I want to escape befo
re I catch DarkNite,” Black said. “But I’d rather catch DarkNite and worry about everything else later.”
“You’re not going to escape,” Petrov said. “Now, I need you to get out of the car and come with me.”
“I’m not moving,” Black said. “This is insanity.”
Kozlov nodded at Black. “I’m with him.”
Petrov whipped out his gun and oscillated between Black and Kozlov. “Now, I’m going to shoot one of you if you don’t both get out of the car. Consider this a variation of Russian roulette. You have three seconds to both get out of the car, or I shoot one of you.”
Black and Kozlov both got out. The wind thrashed Black’s face, pushing away any hint of heat and freezing him almost instantly. His nose went numb in a matter of seconds, as did his toes. He squinted as he stared past the road sign, struggling to see through the thick fog that had settled over the area.
“Did you say two miles in this?” Black asked.
Kozlov’s teeth were chattering so loud that Black thought for a second that he heard a woodpecker.
“Look at him,” Black said, pointing at Kozlov. “He’s going to die out here.”
“Let’s go,” Petrov said, gesturing with his gun for the pair to join him.
They didn’t advance more than twenty meters before a man greeted them on the other side of the sign. He started saying something to Petrov that Black could barely hear. When Petrov turned around, his eyes widened.
“We need to take another route,” he said.
“Thank you,” Black said. “Finally, some sanity.”
“The only way to get where we want to go is on a horse-drawn carriage across the lake,” Petrov explained. “Apparently, it’s a tradition in this village, but we need to drive around the other side of the lake to reach the place where the sleighs leave from.”
“Do we need the Christmas spirit to make it fly?” Kozlov asked.
“Funny,” Petrov sneered. “No more Elf jokes. Let’s go.”
The fun-loving Petrov had vanished, replaced by the stern taskmaster. He said nothing as they drove back around to the other side of the massive lake. Twenty minutes later, they parked and ambled down to the dock where several horses stamped and snorted, their breath hanging in the air almost as thick as the fog.
Power Play (Titus Black Thriller series Book 7) Page 11
