by Jack Arbor
In the distance came the distinctive whomp whomp whomp of a Russian Mi-26 Halo, one of the largest helicopters ever made. As the sound grew louder, Dedov’s pistol hand twitched.
A high-powered rifle cracked nearby.
Instinctively, Max threw himself to the ground. When he looked up, antiaircraft guns chattered and small arms fire sounded sporadically. The telltale pounding of attack helicopters was followed by whoosh after whoosh of dozens of AT-9 Spiral-2 anti-tank missiles that exploded into the battlements sending concrete, dirt, and body parts flying. The attack birds hovered out of sight and sent wave after wave of radio-guided missiles at the walls, antiaircraft fortifications, and compound buildings.
Max and his team were exposed in the middle of the battle. Men in black uniforms darted for cover as Max kept a low profile and scanned the grounds for a safe hiding place.
One of Dedov’s soldiers lay in the grass next to him, unmoving. His head was separated from his shoulders. Or rather, his head had disappeared and left a ragged bloody stump. It was the soldier who had held the gun on Kate.
Sniper.
Max struggled to his knees but didn’t see the former KGB director.
Where is Dedov? The air attack came from out over the ocean, but where had the sniper bullet fired from?
Four members of Dedov’s elite guard force, the men who guarded Max, Kate, and Spencer, were each on one knee with their weapons trained on them, their heads swiveling to search the compound.
They’re looking for the sniper.
The enormous main building rose up four stories behind them and contained dozens of windows. The wall surrounding the grounds held a walkway, battlements, and towers.
The shooter could be anywhere.
A black-uniformed guard’s head exploded, showering Max with blood and gray brain matter. The head explosion was accompanied by the crack of a sniper rifle. A glint of light came from the fourth floor of the main compound building behind him. The guards scattered leaving the three captives alone.
Cursing his secured hands, Max jumped to his feet and nudged Spencer. “Come on!” He took off running at a right angle to the compound to reduce the shooter’s field of fire. From the corner of his eye came movement.
Victor Dedov was also running. The KGB man sprinted away from the main building, his legs pumping hard, in the direction of the wall’s large double doors leading to the sea where a small armored vehicle sat.
Another crack sounded and Dedov stumbled, tumbling to the ground, his pistol flying from his hand. As he rolled onto his back and his screams echoed across the courtyard, his hands grabbed his leg where his foot had once been.
Max’s back hit the cinder block wall of the main compound building, his chest heaving, and he searched the crumbing concrete for a jagged edge to sever the plastic zip tie. Grabbing a sharp piece of rusty rebar, he went to work on the plastic while he looked around wildly for Spencer and Kate.
Three guards had run after Dedov, while another scrambled toward the compound’s main doors. The rifle cracked again, and one of the running soldier’s heads disappeared into a fine mist, his headless body tumbling to the ground like a rag doll. The second runner made it another three meters before a bullet took a chunk out of his neck and he collapsed.
With his arms bound behind him, Spencer tried to shield Kate from the shooter. Kate, who’s hands were free, stood and yanked Spencer to his feet. They took off running.
Watching them run, Max expected the sniper to fire at any moment, striking down either one as they stumbled over debris. Time slowed as they scrambled, Kate with her hand gripping Spencer’s arm urging him ahead. The din of the battle faded as Max waited for the rifle with a hollow pit in his stomach. When it came, his heart dropped from his chest.
Crack
His two friends kept running, Kate helping Spencer pick through the rubble. Near the double doors, close to Dedov’s inert form, another black-clad soldier tumbled headless to the ground and didn’t move.
Kate and Spencer fell against the wall next to him, unharmed, gasping for breath. As they reached him, Max’s restraints sprang loose. He went to work on Spencer’s bindings with the rebar.
Assembling in a defensive position, Dedov’s men directed small arms fire at a window on the top level of the compound. Chunks of plaster fell to the yard as bullets chewed up the building. Under cover of machine gun fire, two of Dedov’s men pulled their commander to safety behind the ATV.
The antiaircraft fortifications took rocket attack after rocket attack until only smoldering piles of rubble and concrete remained. The concrete wall, a foot thick and reinforced with steel, had crumbled in dozens of places. The grounds were strewn with bodies, some dead, some squirming in pain. As the attack helicopters retreated and the small arms fire slowed, only the occasional moan or scream for help from the injured carried across the blood-soaked lawn. An eerie calm descended on the courtyard.
We need to move.
When Spencer’s plastic ties sprang loose, Max signaled to Kate and Spencer to run along the building’s wall to a corner where they could take cover and plan their retreat. Spencer urged Kate ahead while Max followed.
He heard the helicopters return before he saw them. Five birds flying in attack formation appeared over the compound. Four were Russian Mi-24 Hind attack helicopters and a fifth was the larger Mi-26 Halo transport.
I should keep running, but…
Max stopped to watch. Two Hinds let loose a volley of air-to-surface missiles that smashed into the compound’s walls and exploded, sending enormous chunks of concrete high into the air.
Spencer grabbed his arm and yanked, and Max started running again as a second volley of missiles hit the main compound building. Debris showered them coating Kate’s hair with dust. Razor-like shards of metal raked his back, and when he touched his neck, his hand came away bloody. With their legs pumping, they left the building behind, sprinted across an open section of the courtyard, and disappeared around a small outbuilding next to the wall. From their hiding spot, they had a good view of the compound.
Two Hinds hovered ten meters off the deck while a task force of commandos rappelled down and dispersed to the perimeter. Twelve more streamed from the other two Hinds to help secure the compound while a brigade of soldiers emerged from the rear of the massive Halo.
The wall near the sniper’s window was shredded, exposing the room behind to the air. Nothing moved.
That sniper is either dead or gone.
The ragtag survivors of Dedov’s forces were rounded up, disarmed, and forced to lie face down on the ground. A task force disappeared into the compound and emerged to indicate the building was secured. The massive Mi-26 Halo lumbered through the air and settled on the ground, its humongous rotors, 32 meters in diameter, stirring up dirt and scree as it settled.
Spencer tugged at Max’s shirt. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before we’re discovered.”
I’m about to get a clue to this whole mess. He held up his index finger.
The first soldiers off the Halo took up defensive positions around the bird, rifles up, as the leader of the ground squad approached the helicopter. A quiet descended upon the compound as the Halo’s rotors slowed.
Nothing moved until the side door of the Halo opened and an enormous man stepped into the sunlight wearing khaki cargo pants tucked into gleaming combat boots, a T-shirt, and a large white cowboy hat. A pistol in a polished leather holster was strapped to his waist, and aviator-style sun glasses were perched on his face. But it wasn’t the man’s attire that struck Max, it was his size. The man stood at least seven feet tall. His hat hid a large forehead, his jaw was square and pronounced, and the lines of his face were hard-edged. He looked like a sculptor’s rendition of a giant from Greek mythology. Clean-shaven and ruggedly handsome, the man looked to be in his mid-fifties. Max was certain he had never laid eyes on him before.
Who is this guy?
Max grabbed Spencer’s arm. “Have you seen him bef
ore?” As Max removed his Blackphone to snap photos, Spencer shook his head.
The newcomer in the cowboy hat surveyed the battle zone, listened to a brief report from his lieutenant, and gestured at the compound. The lieutenant shook his head before the giant walked across the yard to the main building.
There was another tug on his shirt, and Spencer hissed at him. “We need to go.”
With a dozen photos secure in his phone, Max relented. All three turned at the same time and disappeared into the thicket near the cliff.
Emerging into a small clearing, they stopped in their tracks.
A small raven-haired woman stood ten meters away holding a Kel-Tec machine gun pointed at them. Her eyes were green like emeralds, and she was dressed in tight-fitting black combat gear. A 9mm compact was strapped to one leg, and a knife was attached to her belt within easy reach. A small pack was slung over her shoulders along with an oblong case that made Max think sniper rifle. Her olive skin was covered with dirt, blood, and dust, and her small mouth was curled into a snarl.
“Hands where I can see them. All slow like.”
Fifty-Two
Undisclosed Location
The raven-haired woman marched them to the courtyard, where they were cuffed, searched, hooded, and relieved of their possessions by a team of the newly arrived soldiers. His senses dulled by the hood, Max stood in the heat and tried to discern the activities going on around him. After what felt like an hour, they were herded onto the Mi-26 Hind where they were made to sit in spartan jump seats. No one talked to them, no one assaulted them. Cigarette smoke wafted past his nose. Another hour passed before more footsteps clanged on the helicopter’s metal floor, the massive rotors started turning, and they lifted into the air.
The Mi-26 Hind had a range of about 430 nautical miles, but could do twice that with auxiliary fuel tanks, which meant any number of North African or Southeastern European countries might be their destination. With nothing else to do, he focused on resting his weary body.
When the helicopter touched down, they were guided down a ramp into a breeze saturated with the bite of jet fuel. Sounds were muffled by the turbo whine of the Hind’s engines and thumping rotors. His legs were stiff and he tried to stop and stretch, but he was prodded along by the guards.
After a short march that included trudging down eight flights of narrow metal steps, Max was pushed and he tripped over a transom and fell hard onto a grated floor. The plastic cuffs were removed, a door clanged shut, and a bolt fell into place with a chunk. When he pulled off the hood, he found himself in a metal room he recognized as a ship’s solitary confinement brig. The only clue to the identity of his captors were the Russian Cyrillic characters stenciled on the walls. After a thorough examination revealed no means of escape, he stretched out on the thin mattress and fell asleep to the gentle movement of the ship.
Time was marked by meals: two breakfasts, two lunches, and two dinners. The tasteless food was vaguely Russian and the coffee was tepid and weak. He had no interactions with humans, and so he slept, performed long hours of body weight exercises, and kept his mind sharp by reasoning through the events of the past several weeks.
Victor Dedov’s position on the consortium was a shock. Now I know who executed the operation to take down my father, kill my mother, and destroy my childhood home. But why did Dedov leave Arina and Alex alive?
And who is the huge man in the cowboy hat? The giant had obviously won the race to find Kate. But what information did she possess that was so dear to the consortium and the various intelligence agencies that were chasing her? What had his father hidden in her head? And if the CIA had had the opportunity to interrogate her for weeks, why were they not able to pry the information from her head? Assuming Dedov had run the operation to pluck Kate from the clutches of the CIA, why was he not able to extract the information? No human could withstand modern day interrogation techniques, so what super power did Kate have? Or did she even have this information? Was it a wild goose chase started by his father? A gigantic fuck you to the people who killed him?
When he slept, a raven-haired woman with emerald-green eyes filled his dreams, populated the shadows, and chased behind him. A wraith with no face. Who is she? Who’s side is she on? What is her name?
They retrieved him after the third breakfast. Rested and nourished, he was hooded and cuffed and led off the boat. The air smelled of fish and salt and something mechanical. Like docks or a shipyard. Gulls cried somewhere in the distance.
After a long ride in the back of a van over bumpy roads, he was taken into a building and stowed in another cell, this one made of stone and tile that smelled faintly of perfume and bleach. Another incarceration followed, marked by eight meals. The food here was better. Hummus, dolmas, tabbouleh, and even salad with olives and red onions, all served with a pitcher of ice water. A warm salty air clung to his skin. The bed was thin but had cotton sheets. A flush toilet sat next to a sink with running water.
They got him after the third dinner. Four men with sidearms and tasers forced the hood on him, marched him down three corridors paved with stone and up six flights of wooden stairs. He was pushed into an oak chair, and his wrists bound to the wooden arms with thick plastic zip ties.
A large wide-open, airy room with tall ceilings held up with whitewashed columns greeted him after they removed the hood. Wide openings in the walls offered expansive views of an azure-blue ocean. Mosaics in blues and greens depicting ocean scenes covered the walls, and the floor was tiled in a bright white. In the distance came the sounds of water crashing on rock. Except for the plastic cords binding him to the chair’s wooden arms, this would be a nice place to spend a vacation.
A voice boomed out in English from behind him. “Welcome to Greece, Mikhail!”
He couldn’t place the accent. Max stayed silent as the giant man with the square face came around to stand in front of him. He had changed out of his military garb and now wore light linen pants and a linen jacket over an open shirt that billowed in the warm breeze revealing a tan chest. The white cowboy hat was still perched on his head, and he held a large glass with ice and a clear liquid mixed with floating green leaves. A set of amber-colored worry beads were wrapped around his wrist in a makeshift bracelet.
The giant took a sip through a straw. “I’d offer you a mojito, but I’m currently lacking an assistant to help you drink it.”
Max shrugged. “Never cared for them myself. The mint gets stuck in my teeth.”
The giant roared, his guffaws echoing through the wide-open space. “Touché, my friend. Touché. Hence the straw.”
“Very wise.”
Meandering to an opening in the wall, the giant looked out over the sea and inhaled deeply “This is a special place, Mikhail. I don’t get back here often, but when I do, I try to breath in as much air as I can. Something about the Aegean Sea always gets me right here.” He pounded his broad chest before turning back to Max.
A door squeaked behind him, and wheels rolled on the tile floor. Max craned his neck. Two men wearing sidearms, Bermuda shorts, and flowered shirts appeared, one pushing a wheelchair. They stopped with the chair near one of the open spaces in the wall that looked out over the sea, several meters from where Max sat in the center of the room. Sitting in the chair was a pale and gaunt Victor Dedov, his wrists secured. A clean white bandage was wrapped around the stump of his left leg. The giant thanked and dismissed both guards, and the three men were left alone in the vast chamber.
Max smirked. “Hello, Victor. Nice of you to join us. Nikita here was just offering mojitos.”
Again the giant roared with laughter. “I do appreciate your humor under such austere circumstances, Mikhail. And yes, you are correct. I am Nikita Ivanov.” Turning to Dedov, his face darkened. “Alas, Victor. There is no mojito in your future.”
Max bowed his head. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Nikita.”
Ivanov’s laughter was muted. “We have much to talk about, Mikhail. But first, we have
other business to attend. I understand you two men know each other?”
“Vaguely,” Max said.
The former KGB director’s face was white, and his hands shook while gripping the arms of the wheelchair. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
The giant faced Dedov while he spoke to Max. “The problem with organizations of men, Mikhail, is that over time they start to take on a life of their own. Powerful men such as Victor here make up the—what did your father call it? The consortium? Men such as these tend to form agendas of their own. Much like a mafia family might be comprised of those who wish to rise up the ranks, so too is our group made up of ambitious men who aspire to greatness.”
Ivanov sipped his drink while he undid the button on his jacket to reveal a sidearm in a worn leather shoulder holster. “As the leader of such a group, I find myself spending more and more time defending my position than I do advancing the cause of our council. It’s almost enough to make a man want to—how do the American’s say it—toss in the towel.”
Another pull on the straw and the mojito glass was empty. Ivanov set it on a table and paced behind the two bound men. “Does it surprise you to know, Mikhail, that this entire caper—the gun purchase in Turkey, the bitcoin locker, the hunt for Kate Shaw—was all orchestrated by me in order to expose a faction of my group that conspires against me?”
I guess that makes sense. “You could have just called me instead of going to all that trouble.”
The giant snorted. “Great lengths are required to achieve one’s goals, do you not agree Mikhail? You, for one, have employed extreme measures to find and kill the members of my group. I call that a pretty elaborate scheme.”
Max shrugged. “Lives are at stake.”
“You make my case for me.” Ivanov pointed at Max. “Lives are indeed at stake, and great lengths are required. I didn’t know the full extent to which the treachery runs through my organization. I couldn’t tell who was with me and who was against me.” He came to a halt in front of Dedov. “But now I know, don’t I, Victor?”
