The Russian

by Saul Herzog

  The woman said nothing. Larissa couldn’t tell what she was going to do.

  When she spoke, her voice was barely audible. “There are cameras,” she said. “He has them everywhere. He’s always watching.”

  “He’s not watching in here. I have a car waiting. We can get you away from here.”

  “What about my family?”

  “They’ll be safer when he’s dead.”

  She nodded. She agreed with that much. “It’s the only way they’ll ever be safe,” she said.

  “This is it,” Larissa said. “This is your one chance to break free. Your one chance to show that you’re more than a plaything for him to toy with.”

  Tears ran down the woman’s face. She reached up and wiped them with the edge of the red scarf.

  82

  Lance drove.

  Larissa sat in the back with the woman.

  “Svetlana Tolkalina,” she said when Larissa asked her name.

  She was the personal secretary of a seven-foot-tall albino man named Mikhail Medvedev, who did not work for the FSB, but maintained an office on the top floor of the Lubyanka because of the security afforded by its tunnel access route.

  “Who does he work for?” Lance said.

  “I don’t know that he works for anyone,” Svetlana said. “All I can say is he reports directly to the president.”

  “What about the Dead Hand?” Lance said.

  Svetlana nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard talk of it.”

  “And he’s at the presidential compound at Novo-Ogaryovo?”

  “He relocated there after the bombings.”

  “Which he orchestrated,” Lance said.

  Svetlana nodded.

  “Including the attack in Beijing?” Lance said.

  She nodded again. She was ashamed.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Larissa said to her, putting a hand on her leg.

  “I’ll have to answer for my part in it,” Svetlana said.

  “How can we get to him?” Lance said.

  “You’ll have to get into the compound.”

  Lance nodded. That was what he expected, although it was easier said than done. The entire estate was surrounded by a twenty-foot-high wall, equipped with motion detectors and cameras. In the ground were highly-sensitive tremor sensors, and the airspace above was monitored by a sophisticated, high definition, localized radar system. If you fired a rocket from outside the compound, it would be intercepted and shot down before reaching its target.

  There were even stories of birds being shot down.

  “I can help,” Svetlana said.

  Lance looked at her in the rearview. They were driving out of the city and traffic was backed up.

  “Come again?” he said.

  “Medvedev obtained a clearance for me. He wants me to come spend the night.”

  “When’s he expecting you?”

  “A few hours.”

  “How would you get there?”

  “He’d send a car.”

  “To your home?”

  She nodded.

  “Where do you live?”

  She told him, and a chorus of car horns accompanied Lance’s hasty u-turn.

  “Before we go any further,” Lance said, “I need to know you’re certain you want to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Help us.”

  Svetlana looked at Larissa. Larissa was nodding her head in encouragement.

  “I think so,” Svetlana said.

  “You think so?” Lance said.

  “Will it be dangerous?”

  Lance looked back at the two of them over his shoulder. He pulled the car over and stopped, then turned to face them again.

  “Will it be dangerous?” he said.

  Larissa jumped in. “She didn’t mean that, Lance. She knows what she’s getting into.”

  “Ladies,” Lance said. “Let’s be under no illusions. What we’re about to do is break into one of the most secure facilities on the face of the planet, the private residence of the President of Russia, protected by specialized divisions of every major military and intelligence organization in the country.”

  “We understand that,” Larissa said.

  “We’re going to break in, and then we’re going to kill a man who appears for all intents and purposes to be one of his most senior and trusted advisors.”

  They both nodded.

  “We’d be hard-pressed to think of something more dangerous than what we’re about to do.”

  “I understand what you intend to do,” Svetlana said.

  “The chances of us all getting in and getting out,” Lance said.

  “We know,” Larissa said.

  “Svetlana, if you agree to help us get into this compound, there’s a very real risk it’s the last thing you ever do.”

  Svetlana turned to Larissa.

  “You too, Larissa,” Lance said. “Nothing about this is guaranteed.”

  “I made my mind up a long time ago,” Larissa said.

  “Are you ready to die for this?” Lance said.

  “I’m willing to risk my life,” she said.

  “I am too,” Svetlana said.

  “You’re both certain?”

  “You don’t know the things I’ve been through with this man,” Svetlana said. “You couldn’t imagine them. But if you could, you’d understand that I’m willing to die to bring down Mikhail Medvedev.”

  Lance nodded. He knew the risk was all too real that that was the sacrifice they’d all have to make.

  He pulled the car back into the street, and they made their way toward Svetlana’s apartment.

  “There’s only one way into this compound that won’t set off the alarms,” Lance said. “The front gate.”

  Svetlana nodded. “And I can get us right through it.”

  83

  Svetlana went into her apartment and got ready to go out to the compound as if she was still planning to meet with Medvedev. She was to shower, shave her legs, put on lingerie and makeup exactly as normal.

  Lance and Larissa sat outside in the car and waited.

  “If something happens to me in the compound,” he said, “you have to get her out of the country with you.”

  She nodded.

  “We don’t hang people out to dry.”

  “I understand, Lance,” she said, “but nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  “You’ll have to show her how to dye her hair and adjust her eyebrows how I showed you.”

  “I will.”

  “The makeup, the lips.”

  “I remember,” Larissa said. “The scarves, the sunglasses. I’ve got it.”

  “Get a train to another major city. Lie low for a few days in a hotel room. Don’t take any risks.”

  “It’s not going to come to that,” Larissa said.

  Lance had already made false passports for himself and Larissa, and he went to the trunk of the car and got a false Russian identification card that had been prepared by the CIA. It was an older style document, and he wrote in Svetlana’s height, eye color, and date of birth. The form didn’t accept a photo and couldn’t be used to board aircraft, but it would do at some of the less sophisticated land borders.

  “No airports,” he said, handing it to Larissa.

  She nodded and put the card in her coat pocket with the false passport Lance had made for her.

  Larissa lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out a crack in the window. She was nervous.

  The plan was to kill Svetlana’s driver and for Lance to take his place. That would at least get him inside the compound.

  It meant they’d be leaving Larissa somewhere nearby. A hotel room. She’d wait there twelve hours, by which time if everything went according to plan, Lance and Svetlana would be back.

  If they weren’t back, for whatever reason, she was to leave without them. Get to the US. Find her sister.

  It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but they didn’t have time to come up with something better.

&n
bsp; Lance intended to drop Svetlana at the mansion and then remain in the compound. At some point, someone would wonder about the car and its missing driver, but he hoped to be done by then. If he could kill Medvedev without implicating Svetlana, then she’d be shuttled out of the compound in the ensuing chaos. No one would suspect her involvement. They’d think she was just an unlucky secretary in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  She’d get back to Larissa and then, regardless of what happened to Lance, at least they’d have each other.

  A car pulled up to Svetlana’s building, and a uniformed driver got out and buzzed the door.

  “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Larissa said.

  They were about three hundred yards from the building, but in the light from the doorway, there was no mistaking it. Svetlana’s driver was a woman.

  “There’s no way you’re going to fit in that uniform,” Larissa said.

  Lance nodded.

  He got out of the car and walked up to the building. He hadn’t expected a female. He’d intended to kill the driver, but when he reached her, he pulled his gun instead.

  “Stay calm,” he said. “No one’s getting hurt.”

  “I’m just a driver,” the woman said, raising her hands.

  “Put down your hands. Get in the car.”

  Lance got into the backseat next to her, and Larissa got into the driver’s seat.

  When Svetlana came down, she was dressed to the nines in a black sequined gown, heels, and a provocative pair of fishnet stockings. She was surprised to see Larissa in the driver’s seat, and even more surprised to see Lance and the driver in the back.

  Lance handed the gun to Larissa. “Everyone wait here,” he said. “I’ve got to get the other car.”

  “We can use this one, can’t we?” Larissa said.

  It was a nice town car, a black sedan like the seven-series BMW he’d rented, but he needed that specific car for a reason.

  “You’ll see why we need the other one,” he said and left.

  When he got back, the three women were looking at each other in silence.

  Larissa and the chauffeur got in the back, and Lance drove. He pulled the car out of the parking lot and toward the highway for Novo-Ogaryovo.

  Svetlana looked across at him. She looked more mature in the fancy makeup, more dangerous.

  “I thought the plan was to kill the driver,” she said.

  “We’re not killing the driver,” Lance said.

  “Because she’s a girl?”

  Lance shook his head.

  He got off the highway at Odintsovsky, the closest exit to the presidential estate, and found a motel. Larissa checked in while he brought the car to the room, backing up as close to the door as possible.

  He brought the driver into the room and sat her on the bed.

  “Do you know the man you work for?” he said to her.

  He had a gun in his hand, and she was so terrified it was all she could do to nod her head.

  “I know the secretary too,” she said.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

  She looked at the ground.

  “I’m going to drug you,” Lance said. “Then we’re going to tie you to the bed. This will all be over before you wake up.”

  “That’s what my stepfather used to say.”

  Lance nodded. He had some oral tranquilizers in his bag, and he gave them to the driver with a glass of water. He then left the three women in the room to remove her uniform and give it to Larissa.

  When he came back, she was out cold. He secured her to the bed, put a blanket over her, and shut all the blinds. By the time she woke, everything would be over.

  When Larissa came out of the bathroom in the driver’s uniform, Lance whistled.

  “Shut up,” she said.

  “It suits you.”

  Lance went out to the car and fully reclined the executive seat Larissa had been sitting on earlier. He knew from experience that it was possible to modify the seat to create a compartment. He loaded the M82 and some other weapons into the compartment, then slid a plastic tube through a gap in the seat to allow for air.

  He showed the compartment to the girls and told Svetlana she’d have to play the diva.

  “Just lay back like you’re used to the good life,” he said. “The guards will take one look at you and think…”.

  “That I’m a whore,” she said.

  Lance looked at her awkwardly.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It’s basically what I am.”

  “Not after tonight,” Larissa said.

  He showed them how to shut back up the seat, creating an airtight compartment.

  “And whatever you do,” he said to Svetlana, “don’t block that tube. I’ll be breathing through it.”

  He climbed into the compartment and curled himself into a tight ball.

  “Everything okay?” Larissa said.

  “Yup,” he said.

  Larissa put the air tube in his mouth and then sealed the compartment shut.

  Lance couldn’t see a thing. Other than the engine, he couldn’t hear anything either.

  There was a lot that could go wrong.

  If the guards knew the chauffeur or recognized that the car had been switched, they were in trouble.

  If their dogs realized someone was hidden in the seat, they were in trouble.

  If the air tube got blocked, or he was discovered for any reason, he was dead.

  But he couldn’t think of another way to get into the compound without tripping an alarm. And he knew, even the slightest hint that someone was coming for Medvedev, and the Russians would have him evacuated before Lance got anywhere near him.

  He felt the car begin to move and waited. It was fifteen minutes to the compound, and his only clue as to the vehicle’s progress was the motion.

  When the car stopped, he knew they were at the first security checkpoint.

  Svetlana was reclined above him, looking like a good-time girl, used to the high life. She was expected. Medvedev himself had sent a car for her. Her name was on their list.

  Larissa wasn’t the chauffeur Medvedev had sent, but she looked the part. She could pass for the driver on a casual glance. The guards wouldn’t know the difference.

  He knew the guards were doing a security pass on the vehicle. Running mirrors along the undercarriage, letting their dogs get a good sniff.

  A minute passed.

  Then another.

  It was excruciating.

  Lance had told Svetlana to lay back as if she was trying to sleep, but not to cover herself with a blanket or anything. She couldn’t look like she was trying to conceal anything.

  After what felt like a very long time, the car began to move again.

  He’d gone over the satellite photos of the compound with Larissa, and they’d agreed beforehand on the best place for her to let him out. There was a second security checkpoint closer to the presidential palace, but the driveway between the two wasn’t particularly well lit.

  It provided an opportunity for him to slip out of the vehicle undetected.

  The car was moving along the driveway when Svetlana slid across her seat and released the clamp that sealed Lance’s compartment.

  “We’re in,” she said.

  Larissa was driving as slowly as she could without arousing suspicion, and Lance didn’t waste any time pulling his canvas bag out of the compartment and rolling out of the car onto the driveway.

  Svetlana pulled the door shut behind him, and the car kept moving seamlessly. Lance crawled through the snow-covered lawn to a landscaped area filled with sparse shrubs and topiary that had been covered with burlap netting for the winter. It was dark, but in the moonlight he needed the cover.

  There were sensors throughout the grounds, and if he tripped one, he’d be lit up like a firecracker.

  He moved through the shrubs to a stand of trees. From the position, he could see the entire east wing of the palace, the part
of the building most likely to house a guest.

  He opened the canvas bag and removed the rifle, scope, and bipod. Lying against the ground, he focused in on the second-floor windows of the building.

  84

  Svetlana gave Larissa a final look before stepping out of the car and making her way toward the mansion. She was at a visitors’ entrance on the east wing and had to climb several steps to get to the door. Soldiers in the livery of the president’s Elite Guard stood by the door, their eyes staring directly ahead as if they hadn’t noticed her. Beneath their ceremonial helmets and luxurious, fur-lined coats, she could see they wore the full Kevlar armor of a modern tactical unit.

  Just inside the entrance was a fully-equipped security checkpoint, like what they would have at an airport, with metal detectors and an x-ray scanner. She put her purse on the conveyor belt for the scanner, aware that the soldiers would see the full outlines of the metal sex toys Medvedev had made her pick up.

  She put her phone and watch in a tray, and the guards placed them in a plastic envelope and gave her a token to pick them up on her way out.

  She walked through the metal detector, and then a full x-ray scanner, and was then thoroughly patted down by a fresh-faced soldier before being issued with a visitors’ lanyard.

  Outside, Larissa was driving back down the long driveway on her way out of the compound.

  Svetlana took a deep breath.

  It had worked.

  She was in.

  And she suddenly felt very alone.

  She stepped forward into a grand hallway, the floor decorated in an intricate nineteenth-century parquet and the walls ornately carved in marble.

  It was clear that she was entering a place that did not operate by society’s ordinary rules. No one would be answerable here. Anything could happen. The men in this place operated with immunity, and if things went south, there was no one to turn to.

  The guards standing by the walls were as motionless as statues. Not a hair moved, their eyes were like corpses, but somehow, she knew they were all watching her.

  A shiver ran down her spine.

  She looked down the long hallway, it’s magnificent marble pillars stretching three floors up to a domed roof inlaid in gold, and realized she had no idea where she was going.