Gates of Dawn (A Jake Adams International Espionage Thriller Series Book 12)

by Trevor Scott

The Russians said nothing.

  Jake followed close enough to catch a glimpse of the two Russians and Sofia from time to time as they traversed the hill along the trail through the woods.

  “There is a road that leads almost all the way up to the three crosses,” Sofia said. “It is much easier.”

  “Did you hear that?” Jake asked Zaiga.

  “I know the road,” Zaiga said. “Heading there now.”

  “Be careful,” Jake said. “I’m guessing that’s how Pavel Tursunov is getting there.” Assuming the man was actually going to meet Sofia. They could have just been taking her to the woods to kill her. Jake picked up his pace with that thought.

  By now they had ascended much of the hill that led to the Three Crosses Monument on the hill overlooking the Old Town of Vilnius and the Gedininas Tower on the hill across the small river from them.

  Jake guessed at this time of day the monument would have visitors, so that might have actually been a good sign. Maybe this Pavel Tursunov did just want to talk.

  He looked up the hill and saw that Sofia and the two Russians had entered the opening surrounding the Three Crosses on the hill, where the city had kept the trees cut back and low grass grew. A man was cutting the grass on this hillside with a large gas weed whacker.

  That could be a problem, Jake thought.

  “Do you hear me, Sofia?” Jake asked into his comm.

  Nothing. All Jake could hear was the distant sound of the weed whacker and the louder whine of the engine through Sofia’s comm unit. Damn it. Jake rushed forward, climbing the last section of the hill in the trees. But now he would be stuck. He pulled out his cell phone and pretended to be a tourist, shooting pictures first of the Three Crosses, along with the Russians and Sofia, and then also at the city Old Town to his right.

  Then Sofia was pulled around to the back side of the crosses and Jake lost sight of her. Jake had an idea. He pulled out his wallet and found a twenty Euro note. Now he came up behind the man cutting the grass and offered the money for the man to take a fifteen-minute break so he could shoot some video. The man shrugged and turned off his weed whacker.

  Jake moved around the outer edge of the Three Crosses, continuing to take shots of both the monument and the view of the city below.

  “Are you there?” Jake whispered.

  No answer.

  Jake rounded the back side of the monument and saw that the three were not there. Then his eyes scanned toward the upper path. There they were, heading toward what Jake guessed was an upper parking area.

  “Are you on site yet?” Jake asked Zaiga.

  “Yes,” Zaiga answered. “Far end of the parking lot near the exit. I see Sofia and the two Russians heading toward a black Mercedes.”

  “Hold tight,” Jake said. Then he stopped suddenly when he saw something on the ground. He picked up the small comm ear bud and looked toward the parking lot. “She has no comm.”

  “Why?”

  “She either dropped it or they found it,” Jake said.

  “They’re getting into the Mercedes,” Zaiga said with desperation.

  By now Jake was almost to the parking lot. But he didn’t want them to see him so he slowed down. He took a cell phone photo of the Mercedes from his chest. Then he looked at the screen and zoomed in. He took another shot as the Mercedes pulled away.

  “Zaiga, get the license number of that Mercedes,” Jake ordered.

  Then he rushed along the remaining cars as the Mercedes hurried out of the parking lot.

  Zaiga pulled up in the Skoda and Jake jumped in. “Let’s go, let’s go.”

  She hit the gas and the Skoda lurched forward and out of the parking lot.

  “Did you get the license number?” Jake asked.

  “No, it was too far away and went by too fast.”

  Zaiga pushed it down the hill toward the road that rounded the park, but by the time they got to the bottom the Mercedes had already exited onto the main road, taking a left turn back toward the Old Town.

  She came to a halt at the light and slammed her hand against the steering wheel.

  “Run the light,” Jake demanded.

  “Seriously? Look at the traffic.”

  He knew she was right, but he was frustrated. He had screwed up royally letting Sofia get taken. Now he had no choice. He would have to do whatever it took to get Sofia back.

  33

  Sofia’s emotions ran from totally frightened to somewhat resolved, and then back to scared again once the Russian took her ear bud comm and shoved her into the back of the black Mercedes. They had covered her face with a black ski mask that smelled like a homeless man. She had felt the leather seats in the Mercedes and couldn’t help thinking how luxurious they seemed.

  “This is not necessary,” Sofia said.

  Nothing.

  Then she said something to them in Lithuanian, hoping that language would work. Again, nothing. She didn’t want to speak in Russian, since she had kept her knowledge of that secret from Pavel Tursunov and his men. She was hoping they would eventually open up in Russian, thinking she didn’t understand, and would gain an advantage.

  But when the men finally spoke, they did so in a language unfamiliar to her. But with a border so close to Lithuania, she knew it was Belarusian. Great, the one language she had not cared to study.

  Regardless, she tried her best to track how long they had traveled and which way they turned. But after a half hour she was confused. Eventually, they pulled through a gate, which she could hear open and close even through the thick Mercedes windows. Then she thought they went through another gate. No, it was a garage door opening and closing behind them.

  The man on the seat next to her opened the door and pulled her out. Still blindfolded, she stumbled forward, not sure if she would be thrown into a pit. Through the ski mask she could smell oil and grit. Yes, they were in a garage.

  But not for long. They dragged her into another structure, where she could hear a television and other people yelling and cheering. A football match, she thought. Now the men spoke a combination of Russian and Belarusian.

  Next the men hauled her down a set of stairs, where the smells turned to a musty odor. A basement, she guessed.

  They shoved her down and she landed on a hard mattress on the floor. Unsure of herself or what she should do, she hesitated until she heard a clicking sound. Then she pulled off the ski mask and glanced about her environment. Yes, she was in a basement of some sort. But there were no windows, so it must have been a root cellar. There was only one light bulb illuminating the small room. Barely. The walls seemed like the stone from a cave, carved out over time by Neanderthal Men. The floor was a hard dirt, almost to the point of concrete. Other than the mattress, the room had a one-liter bottle of water and a plastic bucket—presumably to relieve herself. Then she concentrated on the door, which was solid metal with a small window peep that could be opened from the other end. She guessed that the Russians had maintained this place since the days of the KGB and the old Soviet Union. How many people had been held and tortured here? She didn’t want to think about that.

  She felt her pockets for anything she could use, but then realized they had frisked her in the van and taken her gun and her phone. It wasn’t until they had found the ear bud comm unit that she realized she might be in serious trouble. Sofia tightened her muscles and went to that place deep within herself that had always gotten her through difficult times. Like on those long days training for the Olympic Biathlon, where her lungs felt like they might explode and her legs were like rubber. She thought about her youth when she had endured the pain from an abusive stepfather. Although this had not been sexual, it had been physical abuse from multiple strikes breaking ribs and twisting each of her arms until they broke. But she had never broken. She had persevered. Eventually, God had taken his revenge on her step father, inflicting the man with a cruel and painful cancer. She was resolute now. They would never break her.

  •

  Pavel Tursunov sat in h
is office and waited as his three men came in to explain what had just taken place. He had been quite clear that he did not want Sofia Sepp to be harmed. They needed her to tell them what she knew. And only he could get that from her without the tactics his men were used to using.

  As Pavel glanced at his men he considered his options. He wanted all of them only to get across one point.

  “Did you harm her?” Pavel asked.

  The two Belarusians shook their heads.

  The SVR officer, who had been in charge of the operation, said, “No, sir. She is unharmed.”

  “She better stay that way,” Pavel said. Then he pointed at the Belarusian agents and added, “You two are dismissed. Go out to the others and tell them that the woman is not to be touched. Do you understand?”

  The Belarusians nodded again.

  Once those two left, Pavel waved for his man to take a seat. Why did this man feel the need to wear that stupid wool hat? Was his head that cold?

  “I don’t trust those men,” Pavel said. “Keep an eye on them. I need them ready for this operation. No distractions.”

  “She is a very pretty woman, Pavel.”

  “She is my asset,” he reminded his younger colleague. “I need her to tell me about the summit security.”

  “I understand. She will resist.”

  “They all do. For a while. But eventually they all break.”

  “We only have two days.”

  Pavel knew this. But he also knew he had been working this asset for a while, so she might have been more willing to work with him. There were things he knew about this officer that could make her more. . .pliable.

  “Sir, you look concerned,” his man said.

  That was an understatement. “Aleksei was supposed to handle this mission, leaving me out completely. So, I am not so much concerned as I’m disturbed that I have had to move into this role.” Pavel thought about his next move. They were all just following orders from Moscow, but that did not make things any easier. “These groups of men. Do you trust them?”

  Now his man shifted nervously in his chair. “I would rather use those we know better.”

  Pavel shook his head. “That was not possible. We needed a layer of deniability.”

  “And once the mission is over?”

  Shrugging, Pavel said, “We will see how it goes.” He knew this to be a lie.

  “Moscow is betting the West reacts a certain way.”

  “They are creatures of habit. But if they don’t respond the way we want, we have a secondary plan for that as well. Send team three now.”

  “Yes, sir. Will the woman change our plans?”

  “Perhaps. But the leader of each team will have a disposable cell phone for my final orders.” Two teams were already in the field waiting to strike. The fourth and final team was supposed to come from Riga, but with the death of Aleksei Mikhailovich Volkov that team would now come from Estonia. They would be in place by later that evening. Just enough time for Pavel to extract the information he needed from this Lithuanian intelligence officer.

  His man must have sensed that Pavel was done, so he stood and nodded before departing.

  Now Pavel swiveled in his chair in deep thought. With so many moving parts, these missions could fail too easily, despite the redundancy. Complexity often led to confusion. But confusion often resulted in total chaos. He smiled with that thought.

  34

  Jake was disturbed and pissed off. He had allowed Sofia Sepp to get kidnapped by the Russians. He had to get her back unharmed, or he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Maybe he had slipped a bit over the years. But then he rationalized his actions, knowing that Sofia would have had to put herself out there to talk with Pavel Tursunov at some point. Gathering intelligence often took a leap of faith. A dangerous leap, for sure.

  Now, having spent the last few hours with Zaiga Ulmanis traveling through the city of Vilnius and discussing what to do, the two of them sat in the rental Skoda in front of the Radisson Blu hotel.

  “He is staying here?” Zaiga asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure we should not inform Sofia’s boss that she was taken?”

  They had already gone over this a dozen times. “If we don’t have her back by midnight, then we will have to decide,” Jake said. “Let’s go.”

  Although darkness had not set in yet, the city was shrouded with potential rain clouds making it seem like it was close to sundown. But in reality they still had a couple of hours of light.

  The two of them walked into the hotel and went to the bank of elevators, keeping an eye out for all the security types Jake knew were staying there.

  Getting out on the third floor, Jake gazed up and down both sides of the corridor for anything out of the ordinary.

  Finding the room, Jake knocked lightly and waited, with Zaiga off to one side, an uncertain look on her face.

  Jake saw an eye in the peep hole so he smiled. The door opened and a somewhat rumpled-looking man stood before them.

  Ivan Bragin still looked loaded, Jake thought. He was wearing a white undershirt and black pants held up by suspenders. He did have his gun strapped in a leather holster under his right arm, but his Makarov was still snapped in place.

  “My God, Jake. How did you find me?” the Russian asked.

  “Superior intelligence. Can we come in?”

  Bragin looked around the corner and finally saw Zaiga. “Yes, of course.”

  The Russian closed and locked the door behind them. Jake found a little lounge area by the window with a small sofa and a matching chair, with a coffee table between them. Ivan Bragin took a seat in the lone chair while Jake and Zaiga found seats on the sofa. Glancing about the room, Jake saw that the place was scattered with empty bottles of vodka and other spirits. His old Russian friend was holed up and punishing his liver.

  “What brings you here?” Bragin asked.

  “Sofia Sepp was kidnapped by Pavel Tursunov and his men.”

  The Russian looked confused as he scratched the stubble on his face. “Why?”

  “You tell me,” Jake said. “You put her in contact with Pavel.”

  Bragin shook his head. “I believe Moscow put out the order to hit me, and Pavel’s men will do it.”

  “Then why haven’t they done so?”

  “I seriously do not know,” Bragin said. “When I heard the knock on the door, I first thought it might be them. But the SVR, just like the KGB before them, do not knock first. They simply come in and put a bullet in your head.”

  “Where would Pavel hold Sofia?” Jake asked.

  The Russian’s eyes looked up and left before glanced down at the coffee table. Then Bragin shrugged and said, “He could have her just about anywhere.”

  That was a lie, Jake knew, but he moved on for now. “What do you think Pavel wants with Sofia?”

  “He has wanted to work with her for a while now,” Bragin said. “My guess is Pavel will make one last pitch. If she says no, he then has just two choices.”

  Zaiga finally spoke up, “And what are those?”

  “Let her go or kill her,” Bragin said casually. “Better yet, he could just make her disappear. Then the VSD will think the worst but they will not know for sure.”

  Jake glanced at Zaiga and said, “That’s a classic old KGB tactic. But if Pavel is trying to extract intelligence related to the summit, the clock is ticking. If the VSD knows she might have compromised security, they would simply change their plans.”

  Bragin nodded. “Good point. Unless he can turn her and tell her to keep her mouth shut.”

  With speed and ease, Jake drew his gun and pointed it at the Russian. Zaiga startled, unsure what was happening.

  Ivan Bragin didn’t move. He simply smiled. Then he said, “Very well, Jake.”

  “What’s going on?” Zaiga asked.

  “Ivan is a big fat liar. He knows exactly where to find Pavel Tursunov.”

  “Put the gun away, Jake,” the Russian said, his eyes ro
lling.

  “We don’t have time for this bullshit, Ivan. We need to get Sofia back now.”

  The Russian thought it over. Finally, he said, “I am saving your life by not telling you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “They are heavily armed,” Bragin said, “and you are but one old man and a little girl.”

  “Show a little respect, Ivan. You must know some of my background.”

  “I know enough to know that you are. . .how do they say it? A stone cold killer?”

  “That phrase is usually reserved for psychopathic murderers, Ivan.”

  The Russian shrugged.

  “What’s he talking about?” Zaiga asked.

  “Nothing,” Jake said. “I think Ivan is still a little drunk.”

  “I never got sober,” Bragin said under his breath.

  Jake got up from the sofa and moved in closer to Ivan Bragin. He put his gun at the Russian’s head and the man closed his eyes. Then Jake slid the Glock into its holster. With a swift swing, Jake slapped the Russian across the face. Much harder than he had slapped Zaiga.

  Bragin opened his eyes and shook his head. “What the hell was that for?”

  “For being a fucking pussy,” Jake said. “Do you plan to just sit here and destroy your liver while you wait for those assholes to come and kill you?”

  The Russian lowered his chin to his chest. “What else can I do? You can’t run from them, Jake. Besides, I’m on government pension. They will cut me off any day.”

  “I’ve never known one Russian KGB or SVR officer who didn’t plan for this possible outcome,” Jake said. “You must have some money squirreled away in Switzerland.”

  “Maybe a little,” Bragin admitted. “But still, they will come for me to shut me up.”

  “So, you know too much. Use that to your advantage. Get off your ass and join us. Show us where to find Sofia Sepp. You know damn well she doesn’t deserve whatever Pavel has planned for her.”

  “He is a mean son of a bitch,” Bragin said.

  “Get up,” Jake demanded.

  Reluctantly, the Russian steadied himself against the arms of the chair, flexed his muscles, and pushed himself to a standing position.