by Brad Taylor
Jennifer looked into her eyes and said, “You okay?”
Shoshana hugged her back and said, “Never better. Never.”
Jennifer laughed and said, “What about Mikhail?”
Shoshana said, “He’s no threat. I saw his soul. Saw him for what he is. He’s afraid.” Shoshana let slip a smile of pure venom. “Afraid of me. And because of it, he’s a dead man.”
The train rocked forward for a few moments, then Jennifer said, “Now what?”
Shoshana held out a cell phone she’d pulled from the man she’d killed in the cabin. She said, “Now? Now it’s time for Nephilim to earn his pay. The Pumpkin King can only do so much.”
53
Mikhail waited in the passageway, hearing the overloud clanking of wheels coming from the open window in the cabin but no other noise. He felt the train slowing into the second three-minute stop. He nudged the door open with his pistol, seeing a foot on the floor. He swung the bullet-riddled door wide.
The first thing he saw was the destroyed face of Pavel, the blood congealing underneath his hair. He swept the tiny cabin with his pistol and found it empty. He went to the window and looked out, wondering if the two females had simply jumped for their lives.
But if they did that, where is Adam?
He dialed Adam’s number, but the phone simply rang out, going to voice mail. Mikhail looked at Pavel, and realized Adam was dead as well. Shoshana. He wondered if it had been as violent.
He had made a major mistake with her. He’d lost his professionalism, letting his personal feelings dictate the mission. He’d assumed he still had control over her—and he had. Then something had changed. He caught his reflection in the mirror, seeing the bruises forming from her attack. From her absolute savagery. She had almost ripped his dick off, and then had mutilated a former member of the Russian security services.
His choice to toy with her had been clearly ill-advised, but she’d been subservient when he’d seen her. The Shoshana of his past. The one who had obsequiously let herself be used, over and over again. The one who had recognized him as the master. The role reversal was shocking, not the least because he was now the one in fear.
He had sent Adam into the room alone, saying he would provide cover for any train officials who attempted to interfere, but that had been a lie. He had been afraid to go in. Afraid of Shoshana’s capabilities. She had looked at him with a hatred that bordered on the supernatural, and he had felt her penetrating his soul. And then she had set about destroying everyone he’d brought with him.
It induced a deep-rooted terror he had never experienced in all his years working in the blackness of his profession, and he despised it. He had killed many men who thought they were better than him, but they had all been human.
Shoshana was not.
He felt the train stop and realized the first thing he needed to do was get the hell off. Get lost into the landscape, before whatever hit team was tracking him managed to reacquire him. Not to mention get the hell away from the bloodbath before the lax authorities on the train discovered it. The noise of the wheels had overshadowed the gunfight, but it was only a matter of time before a conductor came through.
Which brought up another problem: He’d have to resort to using his real passport for travel. The one that had purchased this ticket was definitely burned, and he was out of alias documents.
At the very least, he’d managed to break up their surveillance of him. The action had been an unmitigated disaster, but he was fairly sure they had no idea where he was going. If they had, they’d have simply waited at the far end instead of boarding early.
No, they knew he was on the train, but that was about it. If he disappeared now, he could regain the initiative.
Initiative for what, though? Continuing the mission, or fleeing the continent?
He flicked off the lights in the cabin, then peeked out the gaping hole where the window used to be. The train was stopped at a concrete open-air platform with a long roof spanning the length, the cars themselves only inches away from both. His cabin was in the front, off the platform. Below him was dimly lit track. To his right, the locomotive.
Did the engineers in front have rearview mirrors? If he left now, would they see him? He decided to wait. It was only a three-minute stop.
He saw the conductor wandering the platform, then glance above him, rotating around trying to see between the sliver of air between the roof of the train and the roof of the station. He stared for a second, then shook his head, waving to the engine and boarding the train. The wheels began to move.
The train picked up speed rapidly. Mikhail waited until the car had rolled about four meters before leaping out the window. He hit the slope on his feet, rolled, then scampered quickly into the shadows as the cars went past.
He waited until all the cars were gone before moving again, ensuring he wasn’t spotted by an insomniac rider gazing out the window.
With the end of the train receding in the distance, he stayed low, only exposing himself to get over a chain-link fence. He circled around the small train station, reaching a car lot with a sprinkling of vehicles parked randomly. He saw a flash of headlights enter the lot and slammed up behind a Dumpster, waiting on them to disappear.
He thought again about his problem, wondering if he should just flee, run back to Israel. But that would be a problem in and of itself. Shoshana was Israeli. She knew who he was, and she was still Mossad—he was sure of it. And the American on the team worried him. If the United States had paired up with Israel to track him, it would prove a formidable combination. But why would the Americans care about a gold shipment from the Holocaust? Was there something about that chest that Simon had kept from him?
The Israeli connection he could manage, but the American interest was a serious concern, and it dictated his decision.
He peeked around the trash container and saw a minivan waiting on a passenger. Soon enough, the headlights washed over the ground as it left. In the darkness, he made his choice.
America was interested in him because they had that luxury. They had the ability to dedicate assets to chasing him. It was time for them to become interested in something else. Something that would consume their ability to chase thieves from a small-time gold heist.
Something like Putin and World War III.
54
Inside the Oval Office, President Hannister had started to become comfortable behind the old Resolute desk. Kurt saw that he was coming to terms with the fact that others could provide advice, but he was the man in charge. The one who ultimately made decisions. Kurt was pleased, because he’d seen “decision by committee” in the past, and it was never pretty.
Holding a CIA cable, Hannister said, “So is this independent confirmation of what Simon is up to?”
Kerry Bostwick said, “No, sir. It’s not independent. It’s from the same source as before, but it is additional information confirming the original reporting.”
Working with Kerry, the director of the CIA and an Oversight Council member, Kurt had “laundered” Pike’s report through CIA channels to allow it to be presented to members of the national security team who had no knowledge of Taskforce activities. As a result, President Hannister had become confused, believing it was a second report from a different source.
Hannister finally connected the dots and said, “When did this come in?”
“About six hours ago.”
General Durham said, “Can I see it?”
Hannister handed him the cable, a redacted transcript of a recording between two men.
Subject One:
You’re getting your damn war. You’re getting Putin overthrown. I’d say that’s a damn bargain for all that. I told you, I’d handle the diamond merchant. You don’t have to leave now.
Subject Two
:
Oh, yes, I do. Have you seen what the United States is doing? I need a buffer country between me and the fault line.
Subject One:
I saw, but they’re just recovering their dead.
Subject Two:
Right now, yes. But they won’t be in a few days, will they?
Subject One:
No, I suppose not.
Subject Two:
When you go, I want you to take some security with you. Pavel and Adam will travel with you.
Subject One:
Why?
Subject Two:
Let’s just say I don’t trust my contact as much as I should. He wants the money, but he’s also connected to the Russian machine.
General Durham said, “What’s this mean?”
Kerry said, “We have a source who believes the tensions in Europe are being deliberately stoked, and that these men are trying to start a war. The source believes that President Warren’s plane was brought down by someone outside the Russian government specifically to create a war between NATO and Russia. The subject, for reasons unknown, wants Putin gone, and believes a war will do it, but he’s growing impatient, and there are significant indicators that another attack is on the way. One that will guarantee a NATO response against Russia.”
“Who’s this ‘source’? A Russian?”
“I’m not going to discuss sources and methods.”
“Well, no offense, but the CIA wasn’t exactly Johnny-on-the-spot for the whole Crimean takeover. Putin played you then, and he’s playing you now.”
“General, the source isn’t Russian, and his reporting comes with high confidence.”
“When and where is this supposed attack going to occur?”
“We don’t know. We’re working on it.”
—
Aaron was blasting down a back road, driving dangerously fast for the conditions, headed toward the next stop the train was going to make. His decision to drive had proven correct, as he continually ignored the GPS, using his own knowledge of the roads. We didn’t have a lot of time to beat the train to the stop, and if I’d have been forced to rely on the GPS, we never would have made it.
Then again, if it had been Shoshana in the vehicle and Aaron on the train, we might not need to be speeding at all. But that was all hindsight, and doing me no good now.
Initially just following as backup for surveillance in case Mikhail left early, Jennifer’s call had changed everything. I was boarding at the next available stop, and I was ready to kill.
I refused to think about what I might find, concentrating on the mechanics of clearing the train. Focusing on what we, as a three-man team, could accomplish with a single firearm, which, given the skills of the men in the van, was still significant. In the end, it didn’t matter what we found. I’d already designated Mikhail and his men as a DOA force for this mission, and whatever damage was onboard wouldn’t alter that.
I was going to kill him. Along with anyone who tried to stop us.
I looked at our constantly recalculating GPS and saw we were about three kilometers out, four minutes ahead of the train. With only a three-minute stop, we were cutting it close, but I thought we’d make it.
I kept flipping my knife open and closed, and Knuckles said, “Never cleared a linear target with only a blade before.”
I said, “We’ll have weapons soon enough. After the first contact.”
He saw the bloodlust in my eyes and grimly nodded.
Aaron said, “About one minute out,” and then, strangely, my cell phone began vibrating. I looked at the screen and saw an international number. Mikhail. Clearly, Jennifer had given my number to him. I didn’t want to think what that had required. I focused on one thing: Vengeance.
Knuckles said, “Who is it?”
“I don’t know. Probably Mikhail.”
The phone buzzed again, and he said, “You going to answer it?”
I flicked my blade open again and said, “I think I’ll wait to talk to him in person.”
Knuckles said, “You’ll get that chance, but answering can only give us intelligence. You’d be giving us an edge.”
As usual, he was right. I did so, putting the phone to my ear and hearing nothing but a giant rushing sound. I narrowed my eyes and said, “Hello?”
I heard someone shouting about Shoshana. I put a finger in my other ear, having a hard time hearing. I said, “Let me speak to her.”
Through the wind, I thought I heard, “You are, idiot.”
I said, “Shoshana?”
“You are speaking to Shoshana.”
“I can’t hear you.”
“I’m on top of a train.”
“Top of a train?”
“Why do you keep repeating everything I say? Are you drunk?”
I looked at Knuckles, amazed. He mouthed, what? Into the phone, I said, “I fucking can’t hear you. Who is this?”
“It’s the damn Pumpkin King.”
I heard Pumpkin King come through the phone loud and clear, and relief flooded through me like a patient hearing a doctor say the test had come back negative.
55
General Durham said, “So your ‘source’ thinks an attack is going to occur, but has no idea where or when?” He turned to President Hannister and said, “Sir, even if it’s true, it doesn’t alter our need for preparation. If anything, it means we should redouble our efforts. Instead of a game of brinksmanship, it’s now just a race to be first to the punch.”
Hannister nodded reluctantly, saying, “What do the Joint Chiefs recommend?”
“Full-on support for NATO. We don’t want to trigger anything, but we have to be prepared. The NATO response force is a single brigade, and it’s run by Spain now. Nothing against them, but we are the eight hundred–pound gorilla. We need to take charge.”
“But didn’t we agree to the response force rotation? How are we going to run in and assume command? It’s their continent.”
Durham said, “Sir, we front most of NATO’s costs. This isn’t a time to pretend that our allies’ feelings are worth more than the outcome we seek.”
Tired beyond belief, Hannister rubbed his eyes and said, “Can anyone else in this room give me a response that doesn’t involve pissing off everyone we know?”
Oglethorpe said, “Sir, the enemy gets a vote, and Putin may not wait. Hell, look at it this way: If this supposed attack occurs, and it’s a big enough spark, we’re going to war whether we want to or not, because NATO will. We need to manage that, and doing so requires a commitment of forces. Stake in the game.”
Hannister nodded and said, “But if I escalate, forcing him to do the same, we both drive to a resolution neither one of us wants.”
General Durham said, “Sir, he’s the one who’s escalating! I don’t want to go to war, either, but I also don’t want to fight from a position of weakness.”
“What if he’s escalating because he’s got someone on his side yelling at him like you’re yelling at me?”
General Durham snorted and said, “Sir, you have two brigades in Putin’s fire sack right now. He’s moved two armored divisions and an artillery brigade into range across the border. If he wants to destroy them without warning, he can. And that will be on your head.”
Hannister was incredulous. “Did you just accuse me of putting lives in danger, after you accused me of cowardice for not doing so? Do you think I’m too stupid to see what you’re doing? Why did the artillery and armor move to the border?”
Oglethorpe tried to defuse the situation, but only got as far as “Sir” before Hannister cut him off with a glare.
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br /> They waited in silence for a moment, then General Durham said, “I’m not sure what you’re asking me, sir.”
“I’m asking for your assessment as to why Russia has now moved two armored divisions and an artillery brigade to the border with Ukraine.”
“Sir, it’s obvious why. Because of our airborne operation for Air Force One.”
Hannister said, “At least you understand cause and effect. Fine. Pull them out. Get them back, right now. Defuse the situation.”
Oglethorpe said, “Sir, they aren’t finished with the body and document recovery. That’ll take another couple of days. They need the time to scrub the wreckage for anything of intelligence value. Pulling out now will send a horrible signal.”
General Durham said, “Showing weakness is not the way to go here. The Marine armored battalion is en route right now, traveling overland. They’ll be there soon and provide the protection our men need.”
“Or they will provide the excuse for Russia to finally unleash its forces. Maybe we won’t have to wait for another instigating attack. Maybe you’ll do it all by yourself.”
Kurt wasn’t sure which way he leaned on the discussion, then he heard words he never would have expected from the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. General Durham got political.
“Sir, have you seen the news? The population is screaming for vengeance. You must show strength.”
Dennis McFadden, President Warren’s chief of staff, and thus President Hannister’s by default, said, “Sir, that’s true. All the polling shows that the public wants a forceful response.”
Durham continued, saying, “You have two brigades within range of both Russian artillery and armor. You put them there. Now you need to back them up.”
Enraged, Hannister drew up and said, “You demanded that, and now you want to force my hand.”
General Durham said, “Sir, I recommend. You execute. I agree with the decision, but I only recommend, like I’m doing now.”
