by Alex Shaw
‘Holy shit…’ Casey felt his head start to spin. ‘The guy’s a Russian.’
‘Who?’
‘The fourth member, the new guy, is former Spetsnaz. He was a friggin’ mole!’ Casey’s face flushed with anger. ‘It was all an elaborate play to get him on my team!’
‘Explain?’
‘He was the guy who stopped the New Jersey attack – remember? He slotted the entire team like it was nothing.’
‘You think it was a set-up, an audition?’
‘That’s the reason the attack happened in New Jersey, not New York! It’s got to be. A soft target they could control. They wanted to make sure he was noticed.’
‘Vince, that seems too far-fetched, even for you to contemplate.’
‘Normally I would agree, but what’s the alternative? Beck and Needham suddenly decide to go rogue coincidentally at the same time as a former Spetsnaz officer joins the team?’ Casey fell silent as he mulled the situation over in his head.
‘OK, we need to look at what we know for sure. Beck and Needham took the bomb. The question is, where are they taking it?’
‘Russia.’
‘And the alternative?’
‘You’re talking about a pair of highly trained ex-SF operators. Even if they have crossed to the dark side, there’s no way they’d attack innocent civilians. Never.’
Patchem didn’t share Casey’s conviction. Human nature was hard to explain, and harder to predict. ‘We still don’t have a target.’
Casey rubbed his face, ‘Never mind a friggin’ target. We’ve gotta find my team and stop whatever it is they have planned. Snow’s in the area, correct?’
‘You know he is.’
‘Alone?’
‘He’s working with the SBU.’
‘And you know we can’t rely on them.’
‘Can’t we?’ Patchem paused. ‘They have their own antiterror commando group – Alfa. I could ask Dudka to send them in?’
‘No! We can’t risk it – we don’t know who we can trust.’
‘I know.’
‘Jack, that is not helpful. What about your special SIS group, the Increment?’
‘It’s now called E-Squadron.’ Patchem glanced at his wall clock and did the maths. ‘We couldn’t get them into that part of Ukraine for at least five hours, and that’s flying direct from Brize Norton.’
Patchem’s iPhone beat a tattoo on his desk. ‘It’s Snow.’ Patchem glanced at Casey. ‘Don’t go anywhere, I’ll patch you in on the call.’
Casey shrugged. ‘Of course.’
‘Go ahead, Aidan.’ Patchem pressed a couple of buttons and took care of the e-hook-up. The call transferred to the laptop speaker. ‘Vince Casey is listening in too.’
‘Casey?’
‘Yes, Aidan, Casey – or have you forgotten who I am?’
‘It’s as I thought,’ Snow said. ‘The device is coming to Kryvyi Rih. I located Yuriy Kozalov, one of the weapon’s designers. The Al-Qaeda cell has contacted him.’
‘Have you been in contact with the CIA team?’
Snow snapped. ‘Yes, I bloody well have been “in contact”! They tried to shoot me!’
‘Aidan…’ Casey’s voice was stern. ‘I did not order any member of my team to take you out.’
‘We believe Beck and Needham may have gone rogue and have the bomb,’ Patchem said. ‘They attacked the cell in Istanbul. What you’re now telling us only confirms this.’
Snow tried to process the new intel. ‘Beck is dead – Sergey shot him – and Needham is on his way to meet Sergey.’
‘What?’ Casey’s voice registered shock.
‘Explain exactly what happened,’ Patchem ordered.
Snow quickly explained arriving at Kozalov’s dacha, being shot at by Sergey, and what the CIA agent had said about Beck and Harris.
‘So Harris is involved in this?’ Casey’s voice became unusually thin.
The line became quiet save for the hiss of static. Patchem was the first to speak. ‘Vince… Vince, can you still hear me?’
‘Jack, I can hear you all too well. First you tell me that Beck and Needham have gone rogue and now Aidan tells me Harris is in on it? I mean Jesus holy Christ! This is my friggin’ CIA unit here!’ Casey grabbed for a can of Coke and took a large swig before he spoke again. ‘We need to act on this and act now. Aidan, I want you and Sergey to stay there. Keep Kozalov safe and apprehend Needham – we need him alive.’
‘What are my orders, Jack?’
‘Do as Vince says, Aidan: protect Kozalov. And if Needham shows up, subdue him.’
Casey shook his head. ‘Aidan, you’re on the scene, and so is Sergey. I’ve got Parnell with me. I’m pissed and I’m coming to you!’
The screen went blank as Casey abruptly dropped out of the call.
‘What about the SBU?’ Snow asked. ‘I’ll need them as backup.’
‘You’re working with Dudka’s directorate only?’
‘Yes.’
‘Use who you have there, and for all our sakes don’t mention the words “nuclear weapon”. I can’t get anyone else there in time. Aidan. This is down to you now.’
Chapter 13
Kryvyi Rih, Ukraine
Eliso was tired. The earlier excitement had made her nervous, not just for herself but for Kozalov. After Pavel and his band had hurriedly left the Gastronom, a steady flow of customers had arrived, all wanting their weekend drinks. And it was the women who were buying more than the men. Sometimes she wondered if she was the only person in Kryvyi Rih who wasn’t an alcoholic. She allowed herself a sly smile; she liked a drink, too, she had to admit, and when all this was over, she was looking forward to winding down properly. She was just finishing up serving one of the regulars, a white-haired woman whose pink lipstick was plastered over her teeth and face, when she noticed Pavel and Kirill return. She immediately stiffened and hoped Tatyana Vladimirovna had seen them too, but the shop’s matriarch had her back turned and was busily engaged in slicing sausage for another customer at the meat counter.
‘What do you want?’ Eliso asked Pavel.
Pavel leant against the counter. His jaw was swollen and he had changed his clothes since getting a bucket of water to the face. He opened his mouth to speak and winced as he did so. ‘Who was that shit who hit me?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before.’
Pavel glowered at her. ‘You expect me to believe that a man you don’t know would pick a fight with us over you?’
‘She’s not worth it!’ Kirill spat on the floor.
‘Who is he?’
‘I’ve told you. I don’t know!’ Eliso’s voice was firm.
Pavel raised his right fist; it tremored as the anger surged along his arm. ‘You never raise your voice to me!’
‘Eliso!’ Someone called her name from the door.
Pavel and Kirill turned to see a large man with wild hair striding towards them.
‘Who’s this, another of your geriatric lovers?’
Harris reached the counter and stood next to Pavel. He got into his face. ‘Are these boys troubling you, my dear?’
‘The only trouble is what you are going to get!’ Pavel’s face took on a hard expression.
‘Uncle,’ Eliso exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know you were coming today!’
‘Uncle?’ Pavel said, a frown forming on his face. ‘You are her uncle?’
‘Uncle Vanya.’ Harris managed to keep a straight face. ‘I am her mother’s brother. And who are you?’
‘We are friends.’ Kirill joined the conversation.
Harris held out his hand. Pavel shook it; the grip was firm.
Pavel relaxed slightly. ‘Your niece has been having trouble with an old goat.’
‘On a farm?’
‘Kozalov,’ Kirill said, the joke not registering.
‘What type of trouble?’
‘He has been trying to take advantage of her, following her, and…’
‘And what?’
&nbs
p; ‘Trying to sexually molest her,’ Pavel jeered.
Harris feigned outrage. ‘Eliso, is this true?’
She glanced down, pretending to be ashamed, but in fact hiding her amusement. ‘Yes, he gave me a lift in his car, but instead he took me to his dacha.’
Pavel and Kirill swapped looks, incensed. They had only been guessing at Kozalov’s intentions.
‘Then we must go and see this Kozalov!’ Harris was still outraged. ‘Eliso, get your coat.’
‘But my job, I can’t just leave.’
Harris looked around the shop and saw Tatyana Vladimirovna, who was now standing at the meat counter observing the scene with folded arms. Harris approached her. ‘Can you please watch Eliso’s position for the remainder of the day?’
Her voice was gruff and indignant. ‘No, I cannot. There is too much work here. What about all our customers? I only have one pair of hands!’
‘Please, it would really help us all.’ Harris reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his wallet, from which he removed two $50 bills. He held them out to the shop’s matriarch. ‘And I am sure that this would help you too?’
‘I see.’ Tatyana Vladimirovna took the banknotes and studied them. This was more than she earned in a month and it was in hard currency. She pocketed the bribe. ‘On second thoughts, I am sure I can manage on my own.’
‘Thank you, you are very understanding.’ Harris turned around. ‘Eliso, I shall wait for you in the car.’
Tariq sat in the Audi SUV and watched with a professional interest the three Mafiosi who were hanging around a pair of old BMW saloons. He had known such men in Afghanistan; they were petty thugs and criminals with nothing to do and even less to lose. But unlike their Afghani counterparts they were unarmed, while he had an AK74SU across his lap. He saw Harris leave the store followed by two more thugs. Harris pointed at the Audi and then joined the rest of the men at the BMWs. A minute or so later Tariq saw a woman leave the Gastronom. She was raven-haired and extremely attractive. After a brief pause at the BMWs she took Harris’s arm and they headed for the Audi. Tariq moved the Kalashnikov out of sight into the footwell as Harris opened a rear door for the woman.
‘Zdravstvyite,’ Eliso said as she clambered into the backseat.
Tariq didn’t speak Russian and he didn’t speak to women.
Harris got into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. ‘This is Eliso.’
Tariq gestured towards the group of men. ‘What’s happening?’
‘I’m taking us all to see Kozalov.’
‘Why?’
‘Camouflage. Something doesn’t sound quite right about the situation at the old man’s place. If there is a welcoming committee waiting for us, I want them to welcome these boys first. I’ve told them a good tale and said I’ll make it worth their while.’
‘And if everything is as East assured us it was?’
‘Then we have the choice of paying the kids off or shooting them. I have no preference.’ Harris sounded the Audi’s horn. Pavel and his men started their cars and followed Harris in line out of the icy parking lot.
*
The Lexus 4x4 was gunmetal-grey in colour and seemed to rise organically from the discoloured snow that clung to its lower body panels. Headlights off, it whispered towards the dacha before coming to a halt and all but vanishing into the gloom of the forest and the falling snow. Gorodetski stepped out from behind Kozalov’s Lada and approached, the crunch of his feet in the fast-freezing snow the only sound he could hear. The door lock clicked open and Gorodetski climbed in. The interior light was off but Needham was visible in the overspill from the sodium street light hanging by the next house.
‘What happened?’
‘I told Harris.’
‘I want to hear it from you,’ Needham snapped back.
‘We were compromised.’
‘How?’
‘The guy with Kozalov, he made me as I took the shot. I hit him, he went down. When we moved in he got a round off. He hit Beck before I could stop him.’
‘He killed Beck?’
‘Point-blank in the chest.’
Needham drew a silenced Beretta from under his leg and pressed the end into Gorodetski’s side.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Slowly take your sidearm out and place it on the dash.’
Gorodetski moved his right hand into his jacket and did as instructed.
‘Now give me the package.’
‘I don’t have it.’
Needham took a breath. His eyes flashed and he pushed the Beretta harder into Gorodetski. ‘Have you seen the effects of a 9mm round to the lower back? At this angle you’ll live but it’ll rupture all manner of plumbing. Now, unless you want to be pissing in a bag for the rest of your life, tell me the truth. Where is the package?’
‘I told Harris.’ Gorodetski’s words were slow and controlled. ‘Kozalov wouldn’t tell me.’
The Beretta twitched. ‘You expect me to believe you couldn’t get an old drunk to tell you where his stuff was?’
‘I put a round in his leg; I was running out of time. What if I’d killed the old goat?’
‘OK.’ Needham relaxed slightly. ‘Kozalov is in the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Secure?’
‘Gagged and cuffed to a cupboard, but with his leg he’s not going anywhere.’
‘Neighbours? Eyewitnesses?’
‘All quiet. That house on the left is empty and that one on the right is owned by an old woman.’
‘A deaf babushka? Convenient.’ Needham gave a tight smile. ‘You are a royal fuck-up, James.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Take me to Kozalov.’
Gorodetski climbed out of the Lexus and Needham followed, his Beretta held loosely by his side. He scanned the neighbouring houses for threats but both sides were dark and silent. Needham saw the broken kitchen window and frowned. He let Gorodetski enter first, paused for a beat, and then followed. He smirked as the dacha reminded him of a backwoods shack. He followed the Russian left into the kitchen and, illuminated by a bare bulb, saw a figure sitting on a chair in the corner with his arms raised and held behind him. The man was gagged and had a tourniquet on his left leg. Gorodetski’s Dragunov lay across the kitchen table.
‘Where’s Beck?’
‘I put him in the next room. Take a look.’
‘I shall.’
Needham collected the rifle then stepped around Kozalov and entered the living room. Beck was laid on his back. Needham moved to one side of the door and kept his back to the wall. ‘Switch the light on.’ Gorodetski followed him into the room and clicked the light switch. A low-watt bulb flickered into life; in the orange-tinted glow, Needham recognised his colleague immediately and shook his head. ‘Where’s the other one?’
‘Around the side of the house, where I dropped him.’ Gorodetski stood in the doorway.
Needham leant the Dragunov against the wall and then, with his left hand free, retrieved his phone from his pocket. He pressed a button. Harris’s voice filled his ear. ‘Go ahead.’
‘I’m there. It’s clear. He has Kozalov.’
‘Secure Kozalov, wait for us.’ The line went dead.
Needham turned his head. ‘You did OK, for a Russian, James.’
Gorodetski saw the American’s shoulder twitch. He had milliseconds to react as Needham’s gun arm rose. Gorodetski sprang, his right leg extended, and kicked Needham’s arm. A silenced 9mm round tore into the floorboards and Needham toppled forward, but before he had time to think a tight fist connected with his jaw and he fell sideways. A second later Snow appeared in the doorway with his own sidearm trained on Needham.
‘What the he…’ Needham started to say as he tried to get up.
‘On your stomach and put your hands on the back of your head,’ Snow ordered as Gorodetski collected Needham’s Beretta and the Dragunov.
‘You’re making a mistake.’
‘Where’s the bomb, Needham?’ Snow
demanded.
Needham was surprised; the Brit knew who he was.
Snow now pressed his sidearm into Needham’s neck. ‘I won’t ask you again.’
‘Yes, you will, unless you want to use that thing, and you won’t do that. I’m Agency, for Christ’s sake. And what are you, SIS?’
Gorodetski said, ‘What if I put a round into your leg and hit the femoral artery? How long would it take for you to bleed out?’
‘Go ahead, I’ll time it,’ Needham replied.
‘You were right, I’m going to ask you again.’ Snow pressed his Glock down harder. ‘Where is the bomb?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘But you have it, correct?’
‘Course we do. Hey, this is an Agency operation. Now, both of you put away the pea-shooters and we’ll sort all this out.’
‘Did Harris order the hit on me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘He said you’d gone over to the dark side.’
‘And you believed him?’
‘He’s the boss and, hey, I don’t know you from Adam, Aidan.’
Snow pushed the gun deeper; it broke the skin. ‘But you know my name?’
‘He briefed us.’
‘OK. You and who else?’
‘Me and Beck.’
Had Harris gone rogue, and then involved Beck and Needham? Did they think they were following Agency orders or were they in on whatever Harris had planned? No, Snow decided, Needham and Beck were part of it. They’d taken a nuke from a bunch of terrorists and kept hold of it. Snow moved a step backwards. ‘Casey knows everything. You’ve got a choice to make. Help us retrieve the nuke or spend the rest of your life in a cell.’
‘I keep telling ya, this is an Agency operation. Why the hell would that happen?’
‘Because Harris wasn’t following orders, and neither were you. Beck was ordered to kill me, an SIS officer, and you were told to dispose of Sergey – a fellow CIA operative.’
‘“Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.”’
‘Tennyson, very apt,’ Snow said. ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade, but you know damn well to question authority.’
‘And what would you do, Snow? I’m toast either way. What can stopping Harris do for me? Get me a cell with a better bunk or perhaps a better view?’
