by Tim Tigner
“I wasn’t certain at the time.”
Max exhaled a long sigh of relief. “Well that changes everything.”
“What do we do now?”
He flashed his eyebrows. “First things first.”
Chapter 67
Changing Plans
Seattle, Washington
WITHIN SECONDS of Zoya completing her story, she and Max were making out in the Walmart parking lot like teenagers shipping off to war. Max eventually came up for air. “Let’s buy you a quick change of clothes, then get back to my room.”
Zoya reached for her door handle. “Sounds good. Can we stop for dinner on the way? I’m starving.”
“I’d rather avoid public places for a while. We’re probably safe if the boys took the Caddy to a chop shop. They’d kill the GPS first thing. But if the boys actually are driving it back to San Francisco, Achilles will shift the hunt to Seattle the moment they’re caught. He’ll have every cop in this place carrying our photos in no time.”
Zoya shook her head. “I’m not sure Achilles will involve anybody else. Remember, he needed me to prove his innocence. Without me, he’ll be forced to avoid the authorities.”
Max hadn’t considered that. “You’re probably right. But we need to factor in that your escape changes his situation. He may be desperate, and desperate people can be unpredictable. Illogical. Anyway, just to be safe, we’ll eat at my hotel. The food is nothing special, but it’s not bad.”
Zoya looked happy with the idea. Giddy even. “Okay. Then what?”
“Then we make love until morning. In the morning we’ll watch the news and go from there. We may need to change rooms. We might be better off staying put. Kinda depends.”
They were in and out of Walmart in under ten minutes, toting a bag of generic clothes. Max then drove his fiancée back to his hotel as planned, but their love making didn’t wait until after dinner. Since the purple dress was so eye-catching, he wanted her to change before going down to dinner. But the moment she slipped the dress off her slender shoulders, the dinner plan was postponed.
As he pushed her back onto the bed, the images that had haunted his dreams and hijacked his idle mind came calling like marauders at a tea party. Zoya and Achilles sharing a bed, sharing a bath, sharing whatever the American saw fit. It was the last thing he wanted on his mind at that moment, so of course it appeared.
Zoya sensed the intrusion. “What is it?”
Max didn’t know what to say. But he also couldn’t keep silent. “Did he . . . Was he . . .”
“Max, don’t!” Zoya put a finger to his lips. “Just don’t. I love you.”
“I know, but you . . .” He grimaced as his unfortunate choice of pronoun wounded her like a twisting knife.
“Don’t you tell me what I did! I did what I had to do. If you didn’t like it, the time to speak up was at Seaside.”
“But—”
“No! No buts. I don’t want to talk about it ever again. You understand? You’ve never been the jealous type. Don’t start now. If you need to talk about it, you talk about it with someone else. I’m not going to relive it. Not now. Not ever.”
Max held up his hands. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Zoya rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. “Now feed me. I’m hungry. Then after dinner I want a hot shower.” Her voice transitioned from commanding to playful as she spoke, and Max knew they’d be okay. “A long, hot, soapy shower.”
They grabbed a corner table and sat facing the TV mounted over their heads in order to minimize the exposure of their faces to the other guests, most of whom appeared Asian. That night’s menu was pork chops with sauerkraut. Not bad.
While CNN looped repetitive news, and Max pictured the headlines soon to come, Zoya ate two chops with a mixed salad and buttered rolls. More calories than Max had ever seen her consume in one meal — with the possible exception of a box of Godiva chocolates.
He was on his second free beer when a photo of Senator Collins appeared on the screen, followed by one of Achilles in a Team USA jersey. “They’re blaming Achilles.” He spoke low and in Russian, once the story yielded to a car commercial. “He must have run. That’s perfect.”
“Why is that perfect?”
“It means he’s isolated. So he’s not talking. The APB will also hamper his movements. Hard for him to come after you when he’s on the run.”
“So you think we’re safe?”
“I think we’ve got good news to report.”
“Can the report wait?”
The look in Zoya’s eyes sent a wave of relief flooding over Max. “It can wait.”
He was feeling like a new man as they returned to the room. The night before, he’d drudged back to the second floor with a world of worry weighing heavily on his shoulders. Tonight he was practically skipping.
“Race you to the shower,” Zoya said, as his card key chimed a greeting.
He chased after her, right into the muzzle of a gun.
Chapter 68
Poof!
Seattle, Washington
THERE WERE TIMES and places and means for defeating firearms pointed in your face, but Max knew this wasn’t one of them. The Glock’s muzzle was four feet from his nose — too close to dodge, too far to grab. The man wielding it held a second gun pointed at Max’s right thigh. That was the hot trigger, Max knew. There’d be no hesitation. Not from this man. Not from Achilles.
“Well played,” Max said. “I’m impressed. Zoya was certain the Collins’ murder wasn’t an act, and she’s obviously a pro when it comes to acting.” He was talking to buy thinking time. His world had just turned upside down. He needed to adapt and analyze.
His immediate read was that his was a lose-lose situation. Either the American government would kill him, or Korovin would. At the moment, he was in custody on a capital offense. A captured spy. If he escaped, he’d be an operative who had failed his president on a pet mission of grave strategic importance. There was no way to win — without rewriting the rules.
But he had to win, because Zoya was in the same boat. HE HAD TO WIN! “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. Shall we take a seat?”
Achilles cocked his head, sending that dimpled chin of his toward the left, away from the door. “You know the drill. Put your hands behind your head. Turn around. Get on your knees.”
Max didn’t resist. His body went along while his mind worked the problem. A problem that also included a beautiful Russian woman holding a Ruger on Zoya. Acting on impulse, he addressed her, his charm on full display. “You must be Katya. It’s a pleasure to meet you. We have so much in common.”
Katya didn’t bite.
Max pressed on. “We both made sacrifices that included giving our loves to another for the sake of a mission.”
Achilles kicked him hard in the back, propelling him face down onto the floor where a foot pressed him down while rock-hard hands zip-tied his wrists behind his waist.
Max didn’t struggle. With Zoya in the picture, he knew that the smart move was to focus on the mental fight while yielding to the physical. He had to find a way to turn his lose-lose scenario into a win-win. A win for him and a win for Achilles.
Max locked on Zoya’s big browns with a sideways glance. The fear that met his eyes put a pick through his heart. He blew a kiss, but then closed his eyes. He had to concentrate.
“Coast is clear,” he heard Katya say. The first words she had uttered.
Max felt himself being lifted to his feet. Picked up by his waistband and collar like a bag of garden bark. Achilles was extraordinarily strong, and he seemed to want Max to know it.
“Not a peep. Not a trip. Not a fumble,” Achilles growled before pushing Max out the door.
They didn’t head for the emergency exit, the back stairwell that would dump them in the parking lot and presumably a waiting car. Instead Achilles guided them toward the lobby.
But they didn’t go far.
Achilles pushed him into a room acro
ss the hall and three doors down.
The extended stay suites all had separate bedrooms and living areas, but this room was a double. Two bedrooms divided by a combination living/cooking/eating area. Achilles pushed Max toward the dining table and said, “Take the seat facing the window. Zoya, you’re to his left, facing the TV.”
Max’s neurons were practically steaming from overuse by the time additional zip ties cinched his shins to the chair legs with their trademark hum. And then it appeared. Poof! Like one of those drone videos, where a quiet Pakistani shack instantaneously transforms into a big gray cloud. An utter and instantaneous change of circumstance. Only this one was constructive. Max had his win-win plan.
Chapter 69
Revelations
Seattle, Washington
ACHILLES WANTED to sigh as he cinched the last zip tie into place, but of course he couldn’t show relief. Relief implied prior weakness, and the circumstances called for nothing but strength.
He had a fine line to walk in the coming hours, and perhaps days. Negotiating successfully with a mind of Max’s caliber would require both bluster and bluffing.
Achilles recognized Max when he got his first good look at him in the Walmart parking lot. That was when he did the research that pinged positive on a CIA database. Zoya’s boyfriend was known to be a senior operative of the SVR, Russia’s foreign intelligence service. His appearance did resemble that of a British aristocrat, and reportedly he could speak both English and German without a Russian accent.
Suddenly Zoya’s Seattle run made perfect sense.
But it also raised the question of what Max was up to. He was too far from Hawaii to be working with her in any kind of supportive role. He may as well have stayed in Russia. If he wasn’t there to support her, then why?
Apparently his assignment included a deep cover role, as even Zoya didn’t have the means to contact him directly. The bus stop move proved that. So what was Max doing in Seattle?
Zoya interrupted his thoughts. “How did you find me? I was certain I wasn’t being followed. Was it satellites?”
“Technically, yes. GPS. I put a tracker in your necklace.”
Zoya gasped, as her hand flew to her neck.
“We’d planned to intercept you at the consulate. But you ditched the car in a rather creative way, so on a hunch we decided to watch you. Then you hit the pawn shop and went clothes shopping, and we really got intrigued. It was Katya who figured out what you were doing at the bus stop. She recognized your outfit from a famous photograph.”
Achilles turned to Max. “As for you, Agent Aristov, we’ve got a lot to discuss. I’m sure you’re aware that I’m not with the judicial branch of the government. I don’t get points for frying spies. Of course, the moment I pick up that phone and call Seattle PD, or the FBI, or some other agency, the scorecard becomes exactly that. Your skin. I’m hoping we can avoid that.”
“You’re not going to pick up the phone, regardless,” Max said. “That would be MAD. Mutually assured destruction. The first person arrested would be you.”
“You think?”
“I think I don’t even need a phone. I think I could get you arrested just by screaming, right here, right now. ‘It’s the guy from the TV! The one who killed the senator! That Olympian! Help! He’s tied me up!’ Some dumb hick might even burst in, recognize you, and free me. Or get shot trying.”
Achilles maintained a neutral face, although he suspected that Max might be right. Putting some scorn into his voice, he opened their poker match with a bluff. “The TV report was just a ploy to get you to drop your guard. The APB has already been cancelled.”
Max’s retort was just as quick and forceful. “No, it hasn’t. I know that because I know why it was issued in the first place.” Max paused there for a moment before adding, “I’m guessing that you don’t.”
“Don’t try to bluff me,” Achilles pushed back. “Your best play here is to win my confidence. I called 9-1-1. Zoya knows that to be a fact. Then the medics saw me.”
Max smiled and shook his head. “You and I both know that forensics aren’t that quick. We also know it takes time to give the green light to get the media involved with something so sensitive. Lawsuits launch and careers crash when reporting jumps the gun. We’re talking about a ranking senator and an Olympic hero.”
Achilles hated to ask. From a negotiating standpoint it was a weak move. But intuition inclined him to play along nonetheless. Max was looking more like a man with a plan than a cornered cat. Achilles wanted to know that plan. “You have another explanation for the rapid response?”
Max didn’t smile or gloat. He simply laid it out as one would to a friend. “The alert went out because President Silver personally gave the order.”
Chapter 70
The Proposal
Seattle, Washington
ACHILLES SUSPECTED Silver’s direct involvement in issuing the APB for his arrest, but it still pained him to hear a stranger say it aloud.
Rather than let it rattle him, he studied his opponent. Max obviously wanted to be asked how he could possibly have that information, so Achilles asked himself instead.
The answer came quickly.
The Russians had a source in the White House. That fit the bigger puzzle. The same source had tipped Korovin off about Achilles’ mission.
Katya rose. “I’m going to make some tea.”
Achilles kept his eyes on Max. “You’re offering a trade? Your freedom for the identity of the White House leak?”
Max flashed his eyebrows in a surprisingly disarming manner. “I’m glad to see that your mind moves quickly. That will serve us well, given what’s ahead.”
This time Achilles did bite. “And what exactly is ahead?”
“The national media is broadcasting the warrant for your arrest, because the president of the United States thinks you’ve betrayed him and your country. The SVR is sending assassins after you, because President Korovin personally wants you dead. At this point, your odds of surviving until the end of the week are a long shot to say the least.”
Achilles wasn’t going to let Max derail him. “Well then it’s a good thing I’ve got you to corroborate my story.”
“Corroborate what? Your secret assignment to assassinate the Russian president? There are only two people besides Silver you’re cleared to talk with about that. One’s dead and the other’s in a coma. You can’t get to Silver without exposing your relationship, which would be treasonous. And of course Silver will shoot you himself if you disclose his plan to anybody else. As the final strap on your straightjacket, it’s well known in intelligence circles that the Director of the CIA would love to see you discredited, so your old friends aren’t going to help.”
Achilles was astounded by the breadth of Max’s knowledge. Whoever was tipping the Russians off had to be as close to Silver as the First Lady. “I’ve still got contacts.”
“I’m sure you do. But reaching out would put them in a pickle, be risky for you, and messy all around.”
With Katya’s expression becoming ever more panic-stricken, and Zoya looking as perplexed and intrigued as he felt, Achilles decided it was time to ask. “What are you proposing?”
Max flashed a smile. “What’s my position?”
Katya put four white mugs of tea on the table. Of course, only she and Achilles could drink it. The others had their hands tied behind their backs. As she looked at him over her mug, Achilles realized that was Katya’s point. Nice.
He decided to table the White House leak for the moment. Things were complicated enough without it. “Your position is that you and your girl have been caught spying in America. Regardless of what happens to me, you’ll both be looking at dying in a dark cell if I pick up that phone.”
Again, Max surprised him. “Actually, our position is worse than that. We’re dead whether we cut a deal with you or not. Korovin either kills us for failing, or he kills us for talking. Your president sent an assassin after you when he thought you’d bet
rayed him. Surely you don’t think Korovin is any softer?”
Max was right. Politicians of presidential caliber didn’t tolerate loose ends — and the Russian version of disavowal was even more extreme than the American. “What kind of a deal are you looking for then?”
“Actually, there’s no deal you can offer us.”
“We have witness protection.”
“And you think that program is more secure than the White House?”
Again Max had a point.
Now Zoya was looking panicked, while Katya had become perplexed. Achilles, on the other hand, was totally intrigued. “I’m listening.”
Max met each of the women's eyes in turn, then stopped with his gaze locked on Achilles’. “My proposal is straightforward and simple. I’m proposing that we work together to complete your initial mission.”
“My initial mission,” Achilles repeated.
“That’s right. In exchange for our freedom, I’ll help you assassinate President Korovin.”
Chapter 71
Double Down
Seattle, Washington
ACHILLES TURNED to Katya while digesting the startling offer, not bothering to hide his surprise. Max wanted to help him kill Korovin. He considered taking her off to the corner to talk in private, but he didn’t want to give Max and Zoya an opportunity to sync. Besides, what would be the point? This wasn’t a typical negotiation. Despite the picture Max had tried to paint, the power of position was all Achilles.
Katya spoke first. “I can’t fault his logic.”
“I can’t either. But I’m sure there’s a catch or three.” Achilles turned back to Max. “Who’s the White House leak?”
“You’re testing me.”
“Of course. But I’m also giving you a chance to start earning my trust.”
