The Hunt series Books 1-3: The Hunt series Boxset

by Tim Heath

  “Okay, then we’ll pick you up and head for St Isaac's together.”

  It was five minutes before Sasha arrived. The grounds of the fortress had been open since six that morning, though the buildings hadn’t opened until ten. Still, that was already over two hours ago.

  Alex filled Sasha in on what Anissa had said, the Russian making a call to his team requesting someone go and obtain the footage from that particular camera at the Hermitage.

  The two men walked straight to the Armoury within the fortress, Sasha showing his card when needed, Alex left unquestioned––the fact he was with an FSB agent made him immune. They were given access to the front door of the building, some form of janitor opening the locked door for them, the area off-limits to the general public. The two men scanned the inside, Alex finding the ticket after a minute. They left it in place. Clearly, the players were yet to make it that far. Both men left the building.

  Sitting against the window in one of the few cafés that there were, Josée sipped her coffee, as the two men re-emerged from the Armoury. A former cop herself, she had a sixth sense when it came to identifying fellow officers, and while these men were not your average officer, she knew they meant trouble.

  Standing on the walls of the fortress, which overlooked the river and city beyond that, Leona stood with a pair of binoculars trained on the entrance to the Armoury. She’d seen no other way in, nor did she intend to enter it herself.

  She’d been there from as soon as the grounds were open, on the wall moments after ten, having checked out the Armoury building herself briefly. She didn’t possess the skills required to break in, but she could watch for whoever would come after her. She had no qualms pulling the ticket from the dead body of whoever might have got their hands on it first.

  Seeing two men arrive at the building had been a little disheartening, though she didn’t recognise either of them from the two she’d seen at the warehouse. One looked Russian, anyway. They were therefore not after her ticket in the way she was, and as they left again minutes after entering, might not have even seen it.

  From the photo she had, she knew it wasn’t particularly well hidden––didn’t need to be, seeing as it was so off limits to ordinary people. She watched them both, keeping an eye on the door, but becoming more fascinated by the two men who didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. Instead, she saw them take seats by a window in the main restaurant, regularly glancing across to the door of which they now had a clear view.

  They were waiting for her, she was sure. What if their presence would hinder the other Contestant? What if they knew the door was being watched like she now did and decided not to try and get the ticket? Where would that leave her? €30 million was an opportunity she wouldn’t let easily slip away from her. She patted the knife she had secured in place at the base of her back, a reliable weapon she’d used more than once in her life to draw blood. She sensed she would be doing so again before the day was out.

  Standing on the pavement at the centre of Palace Bridge, Anissa made it to the lookout section that bulged out to the side. In the booth that occupied one corner of that space, a man sat, his eyes watching people regularly, though it was probably to stave off boredom, something for him to do. She glanced down at the icy water below, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that might be attached to the rafters under the bridge, but it was difficult to see anything from where she was standing. Thirty feet below the deck the river spread out, frozen apart from one small channel that had apparently been cut through the middle. She walked the length of the bridge, regularly looking over the side, but didn’t see anything noteworthy. She then did the same down the other side of the bridge for good measure. Having completed both sides, frustration as well as a chill setting in, she pulled out her mobile and called Alex.

  “Nothing obvious at the bridge that I can see. Anything at the Fortress?”

  “Yes, we’ve been in, and the ticket’s still in place. Sasha’s also made the call requesting the CCTV footage you mentioned. He’s confirmed that there were reports yesterday of an armed man seen near St Isaac's. A taxi driver has been questioned, the culprit having pointed a gun at him after refusing to pay the fare. The Cathedral has been shut down since then, so we have to assume that the ticket there is also still in place.”

  “That makes two tickets still in place, the other three in play by my reckoning. The bridge is very open, and though there is a guard there, I’m not sure how often he’s around. We know the metro ticket was taken, and now the one at the Hermitage, too. Once we have the images from Sasha, we’ll know what two of the women look like, at least. You might catch sight of the other two where you are. We have to assume it’s two people per location, making it a competition between the people involved as much as it is a battle to claim in time. We know there were two people at the metro, one now lying in a body bag. Anything yet on the security footage from the station?”

  “I’ll check,” and silence fell for a moment before Alex’s voice came back onto the line. “Sasha’s confirmed that his office has the footage, though he’s not seen it yet. Once they obtain the morning’s footage from the Hermitage, he’ll get his team to send it through to his laptop.”

  “Very good. And what should I do? Head to St Isaac's or come to you?”

  “Come here, and we can grab some lunch together. It sounds like nothing much will be happening at the cathedral for a while.”

  “Okay, I can see the fortress from the bridge, but I’ve no idea how long it’ll take to get to you. Let me know if anything comes up in the meantime and I’ll see you when I see you.”

  18

  Benita had kept watch around St Isaac's for several hours that day. The doors had opened as planned that morning, the police presence thinning out noticeably as the morning and the afternoon passed. She’d ventured in as far as the ticket office, browsing through the information available. The opening times were displayed, and very seasonal at that. The following day it would be closed again, and access to the museum was limited to six at night during the winter months, staying open until later in the summer. The outdoor skyline walkway around the very top of the dome was closed except for the middle few summer months of the year. It was the dome of the Cathedral that she needed to get to, and there seemed no obvious way of doing that. However, currently being off-limits to tourists did add one advantage––there were far fewer people around in that area to bother her. At least she would know who those hostile to her were.

  She purchased a ticket, paying the two hundred and fifty rubles––about €4 by her quick calculation––and entered the central part of the cathedral.

  It was early afternoon, and darkness was already descending. Three minutes after Benita purchased a ticket, Walther, wearing a big hat and large black jacket, bought his ticket, always keeping the Spaniard in his field of vision.

  Both sets of Trackers were also actively moving through the museum, cameras in operation all over the cathedral to capture what was shaping up to be another exciting encounter. Benita seemed the least aware of the situation she was walking into, and it was like watching a lone antelope on a nature programme walking towards a hidden pack of lions. Easy prey.

  Inside, she found the building to be much bigger than it looked from the outside, though that shouldn’t have been too surprising, as the building dominated the skyline, visible for miles around. Closing time was in little over an hour. The darkness outside would give her as much cover as she would have later. Getting out of the building once it had been locked down for the night was not something she fancied doing––the next hour was, therefore, her window of opportunity. Failing that, she would have to come back in two days, by which time it might already be too late.

  She did one circuit of the ground floor, taking in any doors, passages and such that might be available from there. She went up one more level, before slipping through parts that were currently off limits for visitors.

  She’d found information had been hard to come by be
fore, though the one thing she did come across suggested there were a couple of ways up to the dome at the top. The main route, which was the only option available for the paying visitors in the summer months, was centrally located and well secured. There would be no attempting that way. The other was for staff members and cathedral personnel only and was found in a part of the museum closed off entirely to the public.

  She’d not spotted anyone at that time of day as she weaved her way back through the corridors, occasionally hiding in the shadows as something caught her attention, and she soon made it to the stairway she was looking for. It was at that moment that she heard clear Russian voices, weapons engaged, demanding that the intruder freeze and turn around with hands raised above their head––the order was given in English, which was the first thing she noticed.

  In the shadows next to the stairs she had stopped, and hearing the order she raised her hands to her head, turning around slowly, only to see in the centre of the room, lit up for all to see, another man doing the same thing.

  When his hands were above his head, the police moved and made him lie on the ground. His hat was taken off, and two officers checked his jacket, where Benita saw a weapon removed. He was handcuffed while on the ground before two police officers picked him up and exited back the way they’d come, the prisoner in tow.

  She’d been left alone, her heart racing at least one hundred and twenty beats per minute, and she took deep breaths to try to control it.

  After a minute, with the building becoming quiet again, she carried on up the stairs. Why ever the police had been called, it hadn’t been for her, though the fact someone had got so close to her alarmed her considerably. Had he been following her? Was he the other Contestant searching for the same ticket? It made sense now, as she mounted the last dozen stairs, coming out onto a landing at the top, the views from the windows showing the vastness of the city on every side.

  Twenty minutes later, having taken her time to make it back to the main level, she slipped back out unnoticed into the ground floor room she’d first entered, other visitors milling around, no one taking any notice of the woman who’d appeared through an off-limits door. Having located the ticket at the top, she’d secured it on her person, and then descended the stairs as quickly, and quietly, as she could. Continually pausing as she went, Benita kept checking the coast was clear, sure that she was about to be captured like the man she'd seen minutes earlier, but finding no one she kept moving.

  She left through the front doors, street lighting on all around her, giving the night a cosy feel. Aside from one police car that still sat outside, there were no signs of whoever had been in the building making the arrest some minutes before. She assumed they were on their way back to whatever station they’d come from, hopefully with her competitor in custody for as long as possible.

  Inside the Games Room, Walther’s capture by the police had gone down badly, Rurik Sewick was on his mobile trying to pull strings with those in authority, though he had far fewer connections here than he would have had in his native Ukraine.

  Pavlov watched the screens with glee––his girl had walked out of St Isaac's with the €28 million ticket in her possession, her only challenger on his way to a Russian police facility, having been caught in a part of the museum where he shouldn’t have been, in possession of a firearm. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, despite what Mr Grey might otherwise try to do about it. Pavlov’s odds shortened, considerably.

  Meanwhile, on another screen in the Games Room, the first images started coming through from the Fortress where two Contestants were heading towards the Armoury. One had already been spotted, a sniper in tow. That certainly implied she had a plan. Crucially, while the presence of three unknown onlookers was also noticed––theirs faces impossible to make out in the gloom––their involvement was merely allowed to continue, unchallenged. Both Hosts assumed it would work in their favour. It ultimately meant the two MI6 agents and their FSB contact were left alone and what followed was observed by the oligarchs but not interfered with from anyone connected to the Russians.

  At the Fortress, Anissa had joined the other two for some lunch, and they’d sat and eaten mainly in silence, keeping one eye the whole time on the entrance to the Armoury.

  “What if they know we’re watching the place?” Anissa had said at least twice. She’d been concerned that there had been no movement yet.

  During the afternoon, the images from the security cameras he’d requested had been sent through to Sasha’s laptop. The faces were reasonably clear of both women at the Hermitage, and a grainy image showed the man from the metro station, but it was the best they had to go on. Sasha was then also notified of the arrest at St Isaac's, a German man in custody.

  “So, we have details through from some of these locations, unusual activity taking place that supports the claim that these are Games locations.”

  “That would make where we are now the only one that hasn’t been attempted yet, assuming that Palace Bridge was collected straightaway yesterday, which I think is the obvious assumption. We know the metro, and most certainly the Hermitage tickets have been collected. At least we have images for these people. At St Isaac's we have to assume the attempt was foiled, though someone else will surely try again. That just leaves the ticket you both saw here earlier.”

  “I’m cross-checking these faces with migration services. If that comes up with anything, it’ll give us when they entered the country and a name. It might take some time to process the results.”

  “We might not have that much time, Sasha.”

  Just then, they saw the janitor they’d spoken with earlier, a girl on his arm, probably a prostitute by the way her hands were all over him. He could be seen fumbling for his keys, opening up the door to the Armoury and leading the girl inside. He shut the door behind him.

  “What do you think?” Alex said to Sasha.

  “I don’t know. It could be as simple as it seems.”

  “Could a man on his salary afford someone that attractive?”

  “Good point,” and they got up, leaving Anissa at the table to watch the door from the window.

  Coming back out of the front door of the restaurant, the two agents moved towards the Armoury. Along the side wall of the Armoury, too high to be looked through from ground level, were two windows, and Sasha gave Alex a hand up so that the MI6 agent could peer through into the relative darkness inside.

  It took a while for his eyes to adjust, but then Alex saw movement to one side of the room. The female was spread out across a table at the back, dark hair loose and flowing off the edges of the table, the janitor pressed in between her exposed legs, his trousers around his ankles. Alex dropped back to the ground.

  “He’s certainly giving it all he’s got, that’s for sure,” Alex said, a sly smile appearing on his face. They stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Alex’s phone rang; it was Anissa calling them from the restaurant.

  “Another woman is approaching the door. She’s going in now!”

  The two men jogged down along the side of the Armoury and around to the front door, which was ajar. Inside they could hear raised voices. A female voice could be heard saying Give me the ticket now.

  Before they could make a move, shots rained down on them from the top of the wall, driving them both back into the shadows of another building for cover. Alex cried out in pain as one bullet caught his thigh, Sasha grabbing him and pulling him to one side. Dirt continued to be kicked up in front of them, pinning them against the wall.

  The door to the Armoury flew open, a dark figure silhouetted against the light seen running free from the building seconds later. Shots continued to hit the ground in front of them both once she was clear, trapping the men where they were.

  Anissa had given chase from the restaurant the moment she saw the figure emerging from the Armoury, unaware that shots were being fired at the men, though she had seen them taking evasive cover.

  High up on the wa
ll the shooter disappeared from view, and a speedboat was heard racing off a few moments later.

  “You okay, Alex?” Sasha said, his arms still around the British agent. He helped him up from the ground, resting his back against the wall. In the darkness, it was hard to tell that blood was pouring from his right leg.

  “I’ll live. I’ve been hit in the thigh. Give me your scarf and go check that room.”

  Alex used the scarf to stem the flow of blood from his leg, and Sasha stepped towards the Armoury, weapon in hand, as he proceeded to enter the door. Inside, the body of the janitor lay still on the floor, a pool of blood around what appeared to be a slit throat. His trousers were still around his ankles, leaving an exposed backside. There was no sign of the other woman who Alex had seen him having sex with, and the ticket was also gone. Had that been the plan all along? Sasha took the keys from the door and locked it again, returning to Alex who had managed to stand up.

  “It’s gone.”

  “And the man?”

  “Dead. His throat was slit from behind, I think. No sign of the girl, either.”

  Sasha got his shoulder under Alex’s, and together they left the area, Sasha dropping into the main building, handing them the keys and in Russian, his FSB credentials flashed briefly, stated that there was a body in the Armoury and that the police should be called, area shut down. He hadn’t given his name, nor was he going to hang around.

  Getting back to his car, he put a sheet on the front passenger seat then eased Alex down into it. The British agent pulled out his phone, calling Anissa on speed dial.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in pursuit of a female that fled the building. You okay?”

  “Been shot in the leg.”

  “Alex, I’m sorry to hear that. Any chance Sasha could add his assistance here?”

  “Yes, we’ll get moving now. Where are you exactly?”