The Hunters
Page 17
‘Hold up!’ McNutt said, as if a light bulb had just popped on above his head. ‘I think I know how the Black Robe got in here.’
‘Me, too,’ Cobb assured him.
‘Yeah, right,’ McNutt scoffed. ‘You’re just trying to steal my thunder.’
Cobb pointed to the empty crate where the missing gear would have been stored - if it had made the shipment. ‘The Black Robe hid in the crate. One of our workers carried him in.’
McNutt nodded his approval. ‘Shit, chief. That’s much more realistic than what I was gonna say. My plan involved giant birds.’
Cobb ignored him and focused on Papineau. ‘Finding and refitting these train cars is one thing, since all of them came from Russia. But this?’ He pointed at everything around them. ‘By all rights, Russian customs should have been on this like beef on stroganoff. Alarms should have sounded if they even caught a whiff of this stuff!’ He marched up to Papineau and placed his face a few inches away. ‘How did you do it?’
‘Why do you assume that someone at Russian customs hasn’t already seen these crates?’ Papineau replied. The implication was clear: the Frenchman’s connections ran a lot deeper than Cobb had anticipated.
‘You might have friends in high places,’ Cobb shot back, ‘but every outsider that knows anything about what we’re doing here puts the whole mission in jeopardy. And not just the objective. You’re risking our lives.’
‘Um, I hate to interrupt …’ said a voice behind them.
They turned to see Jasmine in the doorway between the armory car and the private quarters.
Cobb glanced at her. ‘What’s up, Jasmine?’
‘Could I see you for a second?’ she asked.
‘I’ll be right with you,’ he assured her, before turning back to Papineau. ‘I’m kind of in the middle of something.’
‘I see that,’ she said, retreating. ‘I’ll be in Sarah’s quarters.’
‘Fine. See you soon.’
Cobb breathed slowly and deeply, but the Frenchman could tell the difference between a man who was doing that instinctively and a man who was trying to keep himself calm.
Of course, Papineau could see what was troubling Cobb. Despite their best efforts, two members of the team had already been attacked, and they hadn’t even left the station yet. What would happen once the train started picking up speed?
Cobb leaned closer and whispered with menace, ‘Tell me, Papi, what makes you so damn confident that we can pull this off? What are you hiding up your sleeve?’
Papineau stared directly into Cobb’s eyes. When he replied, he answered with total honesty and complete conviction. ‘You.’
36
Cobb made his way to their sleeping quarters where Jasmine was tending to their injured colleague. Since the car had been cannibalized from the first-class compartments of the Lev Tolstoy, it required very little improvement. There were six spacious cabins and two baths with multiple sinks and shower stalls.
Cobb was amused by the dichotomy between this luxurious train car, which was known for first-class travel between Moscow and Finland, and the frugal man it was named for. Lev ‘Leo’ Tolstoy was one of Russia’s greatest writers, having written the monumental classic War and Peace. By the end of his life, Tolstoy was a fervent believer in nonviolent resistance and famed for his ascetic lifestyle. Cobb wondered if Tolstoy would be amused or outraged by the extravagant carriage that bore his name - especially since the other cars of the train were loaded with weapons. He also wondered which was louder: the rumble of the engine or the sound of Tolstoy spinning in his grave?
In either case, each cabin had one large, square window that could be covered with a set of blue and white curtains for privacy or sealed shut with a bulletproof grate that slid from the top. Every compartment had a sitting section, which looked like a restaurant booth, and a sleeping section with a comfortable bed beside a small chair and table.
Cobb knocked on the door of Sarah’s compartment. He was about to walk in when Jasmine opened the door. ‘How’s she doing?’ he asked.
‘She’s okay,’ Jasmine said in the doorway. ‘Embarrassed, but okay.’
‘Why is she embarrassed?’
‘Because someone got the best of her. She’s used to delivering blows, not receiving them.’
Cobb smiled. ‘How’s her head?’
‘Her head is fine. It’s her neck that’s killing her. The guy didn’t knock her out. He choked her unconscious with some kind of death grip.’
He glanced at the bruises on Jasmine’s neck. ‘There’s a lot of that going around.’
She nodded. ‘I finally convinced her to get some rest. She wanted to go out and slaughter the first person she saw in a black coat.’
Cobb shook his head, his mouth stretched into something that denoted both a grin and a grimace. ‘We have to assume they are all trained in Sambo. It’s the Russian equivalent of the Israeli Krav Maga.’
‘Rough-and-tumble, result-oriented?’ Jasmine said.
Cobb nodded. ‘Both were created by the military to be the most brutally effective self-defence systems they could think of. By the way he acted getting in and out, I’d guess he was ex-secret police. The KGB was big on organic infiltration like this, not break-ins. Let the inhabitants bring you inside with them.’
Cobb studied Jasmine’s face. She was upset about something. He could see it in her eyes and the way she clenched her jaw. ‘So, what did you want to talk about?’
Jasmine glanced away. ‘Jack, I’m worried.’
‘I can see that. What about, specifically?’
‘I remember all the drilling, all the lessons I was taught back in Florida, but … you saw me in the field. When that punk attacked me, it all …’ She tried to pinpoint the feeling the memory elicited. ‘It all went away. Just vanished.’
Cobb smiled kindly. ‘Let me ask you a question.’
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. It was clear from her expression that she didn’t want to back away or back out. She was looking for something to get her back on track.
‘Do you want to get attacked again?’ Cobb asked.
‘No!’ she blurted, her voice filled with anger.
That was exactly what he wanted to hear.
‘There you go,’ Cobb said. ‘You said it yourself: you know how to prevent it. What you didn’t know was how it was going to feel. How you were going to feel. But now you do.’
She nodded slowly, trying to absorb his message.
‘Pro athletes often talk about the speed of the game. It’s something you can’t fully grasp in a practice session. You have to experience it to understand it.’
‘Are you talking about adrenalin?’
‘Partly. But it’s more than that. It’s about making correct decisions under fire. A fist coming at you demands that you move or block. You don’t have time to remember complex moves, and there’s no need to. You just have to reply to whatever move is put on you. You’re being choked from behind? You know where your opponent’s eyes are for gouging, where the groin is for grabbing, where fingers are for bending back. Simply do what you’ve been taught.’
‘You make it sound pretty easy, when you think about it,’ Jasmine said.
‘Actually,’ Cobb laughed, ‘I’m saying it’s pretty easy when you don’t think about it.’
Just then, they heard a noise inside the cabin. They both looked at Sarah, who was now sitting up on her bed.
‘I’ll tell you what I’m thinking about,’ Sarah complained. ‘That if you really wanted me to get some rest, you wouldn’t be talking in my doorway.’
Cobb smiled. ‘So, you’re saying you’re better?’
‘I’m good enough.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
She looked at Jasmine. ‘Thanks for looking after me.’
Before Jasmine could answer, Garcia interrupted in their ears. ‘I got it!’
‘What’s that?’ Cobb asked.
‘What the Black Robe wanted,’ he said.
* * *
Garcia was at his workstation, focused on a device that resembled a small spider that had died on its back with its legs up.
Papineau stood behind him, peering over his shoulder. ‘Very apt. It even looks like a bug.’
Both of them looked up when the foursome entered. Cobb led the way, followed by Sarah, Jasmine, and McNutt, who joined the others when they came through the freight car.
‘Where’d you find it?’ Cobb asked, noting the six sticky antennae legs and the tiny central hub, no bigger than a Tylenol.
‘In McNutt’s car, inside an outlet plate,’ Garcia said. ‘At first I thought it actually was a daddy long legs, but a daddy long legs doesn’t lie flat like this did.’
Cobb nodded. ‘It’s KGB all right. Or at least ex-KGB.’
‘The KGB was that sophisticated?’ Jasmine asked.
McNutt laughed. ‘Oh, they’ve got a long history with bugs. Once they planted a listening device inside a Great Seal of the United States, which they gave as a gift to the US Ambassador in Moscow. It worked for six years. When we finally discovered it, the KGB had the entire construction crew essentially make the newly built US Embassy in Moscow one gigantic listening device. That lasted for ten years. And when it was finally discovered, there were so many bugs in the place we actually had to tear the whole thing down!’
‘See?’ Garcia interjected, holding up the device. ‘The legs are a mixture of transmitters and microphones. It really is a clever design.’
‘Are they listening now?’ McNutt asked pointedly.
‘Nope. I clipped all the wires and crushed the processors.’
Cobb shook his head sadly. ‘Stupid of me. I should have told you to just find it. We could’ve used it to throw the Black Robes off track.’
McNutt clapped him on the shoulder. ‘The good news is there’s no telling how many others he installed before skulking away.’
‘Good point,’ Cobb said. ‘Hector, take Jasmine and go tell the train workers to look for any more, just to be on the safe side. While you’re out there, check with Dobrev to see if there’s anything more he wants or needs. The sooner we get this show on the road, the better it’ll be.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Garcia said. ‘If they’re out there, I’ll find them.’
‘Not worried at all,’ Cobb smiled.
‘On the road?’ Sarah asked. ‘On the road to where?’
‘We follow the prince’s most likely trail,’ he told her. ‘Anything is better than waiting here for the next Black Robe.’ Cobb turned to the Frenchman. ‘You better get ready, Papi.’
‘Get ready?’ Sarah repeated. ‘What does he have to get ready for?’
‘His speech,’ Cobb said.
Papineau straightened his tie. ‘I am attending the official launch of the Eastern Euro Trans Energy Study at the Leningradsky rail terminal across town.’
McNutt, Sarah, and Jasmine looked at their employer in surprise.
‘What do you mean?’ Sarah demanded.
‘I mean that I will be suffering through many hours of boring speeches from a variety of low-level Russian dignitaries while toasting many glasses of middling vodka. Then I will board a non-luxury train and lead the study toward the Bering Strait - in the opposite direction of you.’
The trio continued to stare at Papineau.
Cobb let them stare for a while. ‘You didn’t think he was coming with us, did you?’
McNutt looked from Cobb to the Frenchman, realized the beauty of the plan, and then grunted in realization. ‘Oh, I get it! You’re the decoy.’
‘Exactly,’ Papineau said. ‘If it hadn’t been for our black-robed friend, you might have gone completely unnoticed. But now I have to do my best to lead the hounds away.’
‘Don’t you need me there as translator?’ Jasmine asked.
Papineau looked at her with mock disdain. ‘Now, you don’t think a man as important as I am has just one interpreter, do you? Besides, I need you to stay here and take care of Andrei.’
Jasmine nodded. ‘It will be my pleasure.’
Cobb glanced at Papineau. ‘Any final words?’
He smiled at Cobb. ‘Hit the road, Jack - but stay in touch.’
37
The public launch of the new American-European survey was going exactly as Papineau expected. Talk, talk, more talk, and then even more talk about nothing that had yet been done. But as he sat on the upraised dais at track number one of the Leningradsky rail terminal, listening to the fifth speech declaring collaboration, dedication, and international cooperation, it gave him time to consider his confrontation with Cobb.
Everything Cobb had questioned about the delivery of the train and the weapons resonated with the Frenchman. Cobb had said nothing wrong or unfair. The main reason Papineau couldn’t reply honestly was because he didn’t know all the answers. He understood that it was the recovery of the letter from the Brighton Beach estate and its delivery that had set things in motion, but he wasn’t aware of the specifics. He knew his colleague had numerous connections in Russia and throughout Eastern Europe, but the speed and ease with which Papineau’s most recent requests had been fulfilled was truly impressive.
Getting one train across the continent’s rail system was remarkable enough, but two? Not to mention the small armory of weapons and other equipment that passed through customs without incident. Getting them out of America was one thing, but getting them into Russia was quite another. And all in exchange for a single letter?
After thinking things through, Papineau came to a disturbing conclusion: what if his associate had cut a side deal with the Black Robes? These men did not seem to be interested in material things. At least, not the kinds of things people traditionally coveted.
What had he promised them to get them involved?
And why hadn’t he told Papineau of their involvement?
On his way to the reception, he had spotted another cloaked figure as he entered the station from Komsomolskaya Square. These men - for he had yet to see a woman in the telltale black outfit - had to be very well connected if they were able to exert their influence while wearing such recognizable vestments.
The Frenchman turned to his right, then glanced back as if he were simply surveying the crowd of low-ranking rail and local dignitaries. In the dark red and yellow light of the terminal, the Black Robe looked like a cockroach on a wedding cake. These men seemed to revel in an attitude that screamed, Here I am, what are you going to do about it?
They had the kind of pervasive access and freedom of movement that no single Russian group possessed - not even the black market. Black marketeers were not monolithic. They were like the old Bolsheviks and Mensheviks of the Revolution, warring factions within the rebellious movement. And they would want a very, very large percentage of any take.
With growing concern that these confederates were in fact his adversaries, Papineau took stock of their actions. So far, it seemed that the Black Robes were pretty intent on keeping track of his team and every member thereof. The attempt to plant a listening device was unexpectedly clumsy. Papineau did not expect their next attempts, if there were any, to be as haphazard or ineffectual. Papineau still hoped that the attack on Sarah had been little more than misguided, overzealous, or panicked thinking on the part of the bug planter. But it raised more uncomfortable questions.
Was that their first-and-only attempt to piggyback on the mission?
Were the Black Robes looking to eliminate his team if they were successful?
Am I sending my team into an inevitable and inescapable trap?
Papineau’s meditation was ended by a gentle poke in the side from a neighboring elbow. The Frenchman jumped slightly and looked over to his new interpreter, a six-foot-four-inch Russian with a dark, bushy beard named Mikhail Ivanov. The translator nodded gently at the podium.
&nb
sp; Papineau turned to see the Under Deputy Minister of Transportation smiling, applauding, and looking at him. Everyone on the dais, and everyone in the small throng of onlookers, was watching and clapping.
‘He has asked for you to say a few words,’ Ivanov whispered.
‘Apparently,’ Papineau responded, raising himself from the thoughts that had transported him far from this event. Thankfully he had assumed this was coming and had a general idea of the kind of boilerplate remarks the moment required. He rose, bowed slightly, motioned for Ivanov to accompany him, and stepped up to the microphone.
‘My friends,’ Papineau said as if he had been waiting to say it all his life, ‘this is a moment to remember, when people across continents and oceans meet with the understanding that to improve any one life is to improve all lives.’ He waited for Ivanov to translate, then he delivered his piece de resistance, in Russian: ‘To quote the great Chinese philosopher Confucius, “Every journey begins with a single step.” So let us take our first.’
Papineau smiled, waved, and stepped back to thunderous applause. He accepted the warm congratulations, handshakes, back and shoulder pats, even a hug or two as he made his way to what only he knew was the decoy train. It was three comfortable carriages with a classic green and red ChME3 locomotive.
Rail workers had decked out the engine’s railed walkways with banners and drapes to honor the occasion. The plan was to have Papineau and the dignitaries wave from the train as it left the station. Once away from the crowd, the dignitaries would return to their offices while Papineau and Ivanov would make their way into the carriages.
Although not luxurious by any means - a clear indication of this survey’s true place in the mind of the Russian government, despite the fanfare - the train included comfortable sleeping quarters, dining facilities, and a fully equipped video station so the survey team could keep a careful eye on the tracks - among other things.