by Ethan Jones
“I heard you.” Maxim was now a couple of feet away from the man. “And you heard me. On your knees, and hands behind your head.”
Maxim stepped slowly and cautiously around the passenger and disarmed him.
Sasha was already shouting at the driver, and he seemed to follow orders without any objections. A moment later, Sasha brought over the unarmed driver and shoved him so he could kneel next to the passenger. “Who are you?” Maxim said and kept his pistol trained at the man.
“I told you: we work for the FSB.”
“You got ID?”
“Yes, in my pocket.” He tipped his head toward the left side of his sports coat, then began to lower his hand.
“Stop, stop. I’ll check.”
Maxim searched the driver, then the passenger, and found their IDs. They looked just like his and seemed to be genuine. Maxim tossed the IDs in front of the men and said, “Why are you following us?”
The passenger didn’t answer. The driver, who was a few years older than the passenger—considering the grayish two-day stubble covering his face—shook his head and said, “Gentlemen, there has been a serious mistake here. No one was following you.” His voice was calm and steady, and the words sounded rehearsed.
“A mistake?” Maxim lowered his pistol and stood right above the passenger. “You were outside the café. You’ve been following me ever since I left HQ.”
“No, I was … just going for a walk around the area.”
“A walk?”
“Yes. Is that alright with you?”
Sasha’s pistol was still aimed at the driver. “I have no problem with people minding their own business. But when they stick their noses into ours, that’s when I don’t like it.”
The driver shrugged. “Like I said, this is a mistake and—”
Maxim’s phone rang. It was Yezhov. “I’ve got to take this,” he said to Sasha, who nodded.
Maxim walked beyond the FSB agents’ earshot and answered the phone. “This is Maxim…”
“Are you in the office?” Yezhov sounded displeased and impatient.
“No, I’m discussing the assignment with Sasha … I mean Agent Nikonov.”
“Yes, okay, about the assignment. I have an update. The plane will land in an hour. Rush to the airport right away.”
“Got it.”
“And I’m sending you the banker’s photo and the complete file with the landing information and everything else we have. The SVR director just sent them to me.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all. Good luck.”
Maxim pocketed the phone and returned to Sasha. “We have to go.”
“What about them?”
“Do you have handcuffs?”
The driver shook his head. “Hey, no—”
“Shut up.” Sasha waved the pistol at him, then said to Maxim, “Glove compartment.”
“Let’s cuff them to their Audi and call the police. They can sort this out.”
The passenger said, “No, you can’t—”
“Of course I can, and I will. This will teach you not to bother your colleagues,” Sasha said, while Maxim ran to the BMW.
“But we told you—”
“You told me lies, and I’ve had enough. Shut up, just shut your mouth. And stay down.” The driver had started to get up, so Sasha tapped him on the head with the muzzle of his pistol.
Maxim returned in a moment, and they handcuffed the driver and the passenger around the steering wheel. They cursed and swore and threatened Sasha and Maxim, but it was all in vain.
Maxim took the Audi keys, while Sasha called the police and gave them the location of the scene, along with a description of the suspects, who had committed the crime of following two FSB officers. When he was finished, he said, “They’ll be here in five minutes. So, don’t go anywhere, boys.”
“You will pay for this,” the driver said.
Sasha shrugged.
Maxim was already walking to the BMW. “I’ll drive now, since we’re heading to the airport.”
“Package is ready?”
“Arriving in sixty.”
“We can get there in forty.”
“How about thirty?”
Sasha gave Maxim a sideways glance. “You’re pushing your luck.”
“Let’s try it.”
“Sure, just don’t kill us.”
“We’ll go get my SUV at HQ, then straight to the airport.”
Sasha nodded.
Maxim threw the car in reverse. The FSB is out of the way. Now, let’s hope there’s no opposition, at least not right away.
A feeling deep in his gut told him that he was mistaken.
Chapter Four
Dmitrovskoye Road
Moscow, Russia
As he turned the steering wheel of the brown-gray metallic UAZ Patriot SUV, Maxim’s mind focused on the operation. While it was still just him and Sasha, they now had a photo of the detainee. Or it was supposed to arrive soon. Maxim was checking his phone every thirty seconds, but his boss hadn’t sent it or the complete file yet as he had promised. Maxim shrugged. At least there’s no opposition.
Not yet.
He tried to suppress that thought, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. Yezhov had warned him, but still had only sent a small team. Does he expect, no, want us to fail?
“Maxim, what’s going on?”
Sasha’s voice interrupted Maxim’s deep thinking. He shook his head and drew in a deep breath. “What if this is a set-up?”
“What?”
“Yes, we’re sent in, just the two of us, so that we can fail.”
Sasha took a moment to process the thought. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”
“I do, and I have no evidence for it. But there’s something here that just doesn’t seem to fit. The short notice. The missing intel. Small team.”
“All normal to me. We’ve done such missions in the past.”
“Not when dealing with such high-level detainees.”
“SVR doesn’t want to attract attention.”
“I get that, but still, two more people wasn’t much to ask. We’d be in the same vehicle.”
Sasha shrugged. “It’s what we have, and we’ll get this done.”
“No doubt about it. Just might be tougher than expected.”
“Isn’t it always?”
Maxim nodded. His phone pinged with the arrival of an email. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Yezhov. We got the file.”
“Forward it to me.”
Maxim had begun to tap the phone when it started to ring. “Oh, now the boss wants to talk to me. Yes, this is Maxim…”
“Why are you and Sasha out of control?” Yezhov shouted.
“What? I don’t—”
“What’s there not to understand? You called the police on your colleagues?”
Maxim bit his lip. He wasn’t expecting the word to go around so fast. “They were following us, director, endangering our operation—”
“They say they were on an assignment, looking for a contact, whom they missed because of you.”
Maxim shook his head and gave a look to Sasha, who made a gesture with his hand, indicating that Director Yezhov was crazy. Maxim sighed and said, “Director, at the time it looked like a good idea, but in hindsight—”
“Yes, hindsight, but the damage is done. You should have called their supervisor, checked their story, seen if what they were saying was true. But you wanted to be the tough guy.”
“No, it’s nothing like that—”
“That’s all I have to say now. We’ll discuss this when you return from your assignment. And, for your own sake, don’t mess it up.”
“I won’t, director, I—”
Yezhov hung up on Maxim.
He bit his lip again, this time to stifle some swearing.
Sasha said, “The man has gone mad.”
“Yeah, well, he’s still my boss. He said we should have called the office, no
t the police.”
“And their boss would have covered for them, or given them an easy way out.”
Maxim slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “This … this is infuriating.”
Sasha placed a hand on Maxim’s shoulder. “Man, have you thought of a transfer? Somewhere a little less frustrating?”
“What, the SVR?”
“Perhaps, if you must … Or another section within FSB, or maybe you can be reassigned to work with another—”
“That wouldn’t look good on my record. I can get along with Yezhov.”
“But can he with you?”
Maxim shrugged. “He needs to show off that he’s the boss. I get it.”
Sasha’s eyes lingered on Maxim’s frustrated face a moment longer. “I can put in a good word for you … if that’s what you need.”
“I’ll let you know. Now, let me forward you those files.”
He sent to Sasha the email received from Yezhov and scrolled through the screen. The PDF file started with a picture of the detainee. Rabinovich was in his late fifties, maybe early sixties. The photo showed him well-groomed, wearing a crisp white shirt, a brown wool vest, and a bowtie. He had a handlebar mustache and goatee and resembled an aristocrat of days gone by.
Maxim shook his head and glanced up ahead. The traffic was smooth with few vehicles and no erratic drivers. He could keep up with just one eye on the windshield. I guess he messed with the wrong guys, he thought as he scrolled through the file. He must have been at a tight spot if this was his only way out…
MoscOil was supposed to be private, but Maxim knew that nothing was really private in today’s Russia. The company’s executives had close ties to the current government. It was very likely they had pulled strings and had received the assistance of SVR’s operatives in London to nab Rabinovich. Perhaps they played the “treason” card, asserting that Rabinovich was defrauding the country. They wouldn’t be completely wrong, since the Russian national oil company Rosneft owned an eleven percent stake in MoscOil. Yes, Rabinovich sealed his fate when he took this wrong turn… The banker had crossed some extremely powerful people, who had twenty million reasons to get even.
Maxim looked through the windshield, then at Sasha, who said, “This banker, he’s a dead man walking…”
“Yes, and we need to make sure he keeps walking…”
“For how long, though? How much did you read?” He tapped his phone.
“Skimmed through the first couple of pages, but it’s enough…”
“Agreed. We’ve got to be extremely careful.”
“Well, those will be some tense eighteen minutes. The detainee’s transfer will take eighteen minutes, from the tarmac to the safehouse. Provided there’s no interference…”
“Do you really think this will be an in-and-out job, just like that?” The SVR agent snapped his fingers.
“No, but I’m glad it’s a short trip. Imagine if it were an intra-city transfer, taking hours.”
“They would have given us more people.”
“I don’t think so. More weapons maybe.”
Sasha laughed and looked over his shoulder toward the SUV’s trunk. Before leaving the FSB headquarters, they had stashed two AK-105 rifles—the shortened carbine version of the famous AK-47 rifle designed by Mikhail Kalashnikov back in 1947—in case things got out of hand.
Maxim said, “Is someone behind us?”
“Lots of people, but none that we need to worry about.”
Maxim inhaled deeply and stepped on the gas. He tried to relax as the SUV picked up speed. He swerved around a couple of slower-moving vehicles, then zoomed through an intersection just as the lights turned red. He kept his foot on the gas, as if they were on a high-speed chase.
One of the crucial parts of the job of a transporter—Maxim believed the most crucial one—was to know how to drive. Not just aggressive or defensive driving techniques, or advanced tactical maneuvers. It was more important to know the exact timing of when to employ each skill. Reading and interpreting every situation, assessing and deciding when and how to act, those made the difference between a mediocre and a great transporter.
“Do you think you’ll draw them out?” Sasha said.
“What?” Maxim replied absentmindedly, immersed in navigating the heavily-armored SUV.
“The high speed. We’ll see who breaks ranks and follows us.”
Maxim smiled. “That, plus we need to make good time…”
“Just don’t try to break your record.”
About a month ago, Maxim had completed the trip in thirty-seven minutes.
“That was different,” he said. “An emergency, and I was driving a police car.”
“Still. Let’s just get there in one piece.”
“Yes, Mother.”
They drove for the next few minutes in silence, broken by Sasha’s reading relevant excerpts from Rabinovich’s file. Maxim mostly nodded. The more he knew about the case, the more he began to expect a hostile intervention. However, a feeling of calm had engulfed him. Maxim was no longer concerned if the opposition was going to appear. He knew they were going to, and when they did, Maxim and Sasha would be prepared.
He kept glancing over his shoulder, checking the rear-view and the side mirror. Nothing suspicious. His high-speed driving had prompted a few drivers to try to replicate his maneuvers, with limited success. At one point, when Maxim squeezed in between a couple of vans, the right corner of the hood almost clipped the back of the leading van. He tapped on the brakes, then slid to the side and turned the steering wheel. The SUV drifted around the corner and went straight into the path of an oncoming taxi. Maxim didn’t even flinch, but yanked at the wheel. The SUV climbed onto the sidewalk, swerved around a couple of metal benches, then dropped down onto the street.
Sasha let out a nervous laugh. “You’re gonna kill us.”
“Either the SVR work has softened you up, or you have a very short memory. You drove like this only minutes ago…”
“The SVR hasn’t softened me up, and that was different. We were being chased, albeit by juvenile delinquents.”
“I’m just warming up.”
“Right, just don’t have too much fun.”
“What did I say earlier, Mother?”
Sasha shook his head. “That wasn’t funny even the first time you said it…”
Maxim shrugged and eased up on the gas as they came to the merging point with the M-11 Highway. He joined the flow of traffic rushing down the five lanes and drove the regular speed for a moment. Then he turned the wheel, switched to the high-speed lane, and flattened the gas pedal.
The half-unexpected maneuver threw Sasha against the seat. He cursed out loud, while Maxim grinned. “Hold on, brother.”
Sasha’s eyes went to the side mirror. A newer model black Mercedes-Benz sedan was gaining on them, driving in the same lane. “Maxim, check that out.” He gestured with his hand.
“What is it?”
“Someone’s following us.”
Maxim looked at the rear-view mirror, then turned in his seat. The Mercedes was coming up fast behind them. If he wasn’t tailing them, he was in quite a hurry to get to his destination. “Don’t think this is FSB.”
Sasha shook his head. “No. This is about the banker. Someone doesn’t want us to do our job.”
Maxim shrugged. “They’ll be sorely disappointed when they find out they won’t do their job.”
Chapter Five
M-11 Highway
Moscow, Russia
Sasha had already pulled out his pistol, but Maxim shook his head. “No, we won’t turn this into a gunfight.”
“Unless they fire first…”
“If they start it, we’ll end it. But I don’t want to miss the banker. If we’re disabled, and someone makes an attempt on the banker at the airport…”
Sasha nodded. “Yes. So, what’s the tactic?”
“First, let’s make sure they’re really after us. Once we’re positive, we’ll try to o
utrun them, and in the process, put them out of action.”
“I like that.”
“Hold on to something.”
“Hit it.”
Maxim switched gears and flattened the gas pedal. The SUV rocketed forward, then Maxim changed lanes. He put a few vehicles between them and the Mercedes and kept accelerating. The tactic was fully formed in his mind, and he was looking for the right moment and the right vehicle before he could execute it. It had to be a large vehicle, a tractor trailer, a bus, or a cement truck, something that could take a little bump.
“There.” Sasha pointed at a tractor trailer about sixty yards in front of them.
Maxim nodded. “That’s perfect.”
The Mercedes pulled up from behind the stream of vehicles. The driver seemed dead set on not losing the target.
Sasha held his pistol over his lap. “Now we know they’re following us.”
Maxim nodded. “Let’s make things harder.”
He weaved his way through traffic. As he passed a small white hatchback, the young woman behind the wheel was startled by the unexpected presence of the twice-as-large SUV coming at her. Maxim was still about a foot away from her, and he was going to go past her and to the front of her vehicle, without making contact.
The woman panicked. She turned the wheel to the left, toward the SUV. For a moment, the hatchback scraped against the side of the SUV. Maxim drove away from the hatchback, but there was nowhere to go. The other side of their armored vehicle sideswiped a van. Its driver lost control and drove into the next lane. The hatchback spun around, and the sedan coming behind it crashed into the hatchback’s side.
Maxim cursed under his breath as he stepped on the brakes and switched lanes. He looked over his shoulder. The Mercedes-Benz driver had swerved around the crash scene and was still behind them. Maxim changed gears, and the SUV shot along the fast lane. They began to gain on the tractor trailer, and when the SUV was almost near the tractor’s cab, Maxim decelerated to match the tractor’s speed.
The Mercedes-Benz had caught up to them and was right behind the SUV.
“Now,” Sasha said.
Maxim hit the gas and swung right in front of the tractor. Its driver was caught by surprise, but only for a moment. The front of the truck hit the back of the SUV.
