by Matthew Dunn
Roger frowned. “Why don’t we just get the submarines to turn around so that the incident is avoided?”
“No. If we do that, Razin will strike another target and we’d have no idea when or where that would be.”
“He might, but unless he’s lucky it would be unlikely to spark war.”
“I can’t take that chance.”
Roger looked incredulous. “And yet you’re willing to take a gamble on something that certainly will lead to war if we fail.”
Will thought about this. “If we’ve not got him by the time the subs are drawing close to Russia, I’ll call it in.”
Korina said, “You’ll have to move quickly because the submarines will be entering Russian waters in four days’ time.”
Will’s smile vanished.
Four days.
One explosion.
War.
Part IV
Chapter Thirty-two
Colonel General Platonov walked through the grounds of his estate. It was late evening and dark, though the driveway’s lamps and discreetly positioned halogen lights gave him glimpses of the large garden’s brook, oak trees, ornate stone bridges, and special forces men with AEK-919K “Kashtan” submachine guns slung by their sides.
He hated having the bodyguards in his family home, but he was the highest-ranking military officer in the Russian armed forces and protection came with the job.
The man by his side was silent. That was understandable. The Russian president had a lot on his mind.
They stopped on a large rectangular area of concrete, where snow had recently been brushed away to reveal a symmetrical pattern of squares. At opposite ends of the yard were tall plastic chess pieces. On the edge of each corner of the yard, overlooking the giant chessboard, were man-sized stone statues of knights, their bodies and heads cloaked and hooded, their faces solemn, their hands clasped over the hilts of downward-facing broadswords.
Platonov looked at his house. The curtains were still open, all of the rooms illuminated. He could see the premier’s wife and his wife talking, smiling, glasses of wine in their hands. Upstairs, the young pajama-dressed children of Russia’s most powerful general were bouncing on beds with the children of Russia’s supreme leader. They were having a sleepover tonight. Their excitement was palpable.
The two men lit Montecristo cigars. Platonov could still feel the pleasant burn of his postdinner cognac in his throat. The evening had gone well. His wife was an excellent cook and a very intelligent hostess. As he looked at her now, he knew that he loved her as much as when he’d first met her. Then he’d been a muscular, blond-haired, idealistic lieutenant. Now he was a slim, ramrod-backed, gray-haired general with wisdom and a scar that ran from a blue eye down to the corner of his mouth.
A memento from Afghanistan.
A mujahideen knife.
He looked at his premier and spoke quietly. “What are your orders?”
The president blew out smoke. “You’d accept them?”
“It depends on whether they’re right.”
The president smiled. “Perhaps you forget your status.”
“Perhaps you forget whose fucking house you’re in.”
The premier laughed, then frowned. “I’m tempted to expel the American ambassador.”
“Go ahead. But you’ll make a fool of yourself.”
“I don’t need your blessing.”
“No, but you’ll need my army if it all goes wrong.”
“My army.”
“Your army, if you like.” He kept his eyes on his children before turning to his commander in chief. “We’re not seven years old. Your army. I don’t care.”
The president was silent for a while. “Why are you angry with me?”
“Not you. I’m angry with history. Every Russian president has made his general into a psychopath.”
“I think you’ve had too much Hennessy.”
“No, I’m stone-cold sober.” Platonov looked sternly at his leader. “Don’t bait the Americans. They can slaughter us.”
“I’ve no intention of baiting them. On the contrary, they’re the ones who’re being provocative.”
“Then sort it out. Politically.”
The president blew out more smoke; it hung in the icy air. “With you in charge, there’d be no slaughter.”
“Rubbish.” Platonov looked at his wife moving across the kitchen. It marveled him that she’d not lost her effect on him. He looked at the children and felt a chill run through his body. “If you fuck up, I’ll send every Russian soldier to meet an American invasion force. They’ll all die, but that’s what we do and that’s how we fight. And I’ll just be another psychopath.”
“I don’t want a fight.”
“But you’ll have one at the drop of a hat.”
“You read me wrong.”
“I read you fine.”
The president moved closer to Platonov. “How is the nuclear training exercise progressing?”
The question lightened Platonov’s mood. “It’s going very well. But Colonel Khmelnytsky still has more work to do. In particular, we need to test the feasibility of deploying the devices from sea. The final phase of the exercise will be focused on targeting naval installations.”
“Good.” The president was keen to get back into the warmth of the house. “Should we be concerned about the three American submarines?”
Platonov laughed. “They’re just playing games. But one of our new stealth destroyers will be waiting for them in the Barents Sea. It will make them turn around.”
The premier flicked his cigar onto the chessboard. “Come on, let’s get another drink.” He stepped forward, then stopped. “I’m not going to fuck up, and I hope the Americans don’t either. I’m sure it will be fine, but—” He shivered. “My orders. If anything does happen, make sure our entire military is battle-ready.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Morning broke to reveal a sky filled with gray clouds pouring snow over the city of Vladivostok.
The lounge in Korina’s house was thick with the smoke from cigarettes and steam from mugs of coffee. Korina had been out of the room for thirty minutes, and when she reemerged she was showered and had changed into smart charcoal gray pants, a white blouse, and a box jacket. Her body lotions and perfume brought a welcome fresh scent into the musty room.
She looked directly at Will. “I’ll need an hour in my office to go through GRU databases.”
“All right. Can we wait for you here?”
“Sure. Just don’t go through my things.” Korina smiled, donned her outer garments, and walked out of her home.
Will glanced at his watch, waited a few seconds, looked at Laith, and spoke with a stern voice. “Get on foot and tail her. Roger, I want you in one of our vehicles. I’ll parallel Laith’s route. All cells dialed into my number. Listen to my commands, because if she does anything stupid we’ll have to move very quickly.”
Thirty minutes later, Will was standing close to the quayside of Vladivostok’s naval port. Snow pelted his face, and he pulled up the collar of his overcoat to further shield him from the bitter weather. Placing his hands back into his coat pockets, his fingers caressed his QSZ-92 handgun. He heard Laith’s voice in his bluetooth earpiece.
“She’s been in the base for ten minutes. Four soldiers are guarding the main entrance. So far, all looks quiet.”
It seemed that the GRU offices were not in the Pacific Fleet HQ building, as Korina had entered one of the nearby militarized and restricted naval zones of the port. Will imagined that the naval GRU probably had only a few offices in the zone, the rest of the buildings being used by hundreds of navy sailors and administrators. Laith was barely a hundred and fifty feet away from the entrance to the base. Roger and Will were farther east, with Roger covering the northern flank of their surveillance box in the Audi A8 and Will covering the south. Only Laith had visibility of the militarized zone.
Will heard a loud horn from behind him. Turning, he saw a huge air
craft carrier, fully laden with MiG-29Ks and Su-33s, cruise slowly close to the port. Sailors were on deck, moving quickly, clearly tasked with numerous jobs. The horn boomed again before the massive vessel turned and began sailing away.
Will shivered, but not from the cold. “Anything unusual at the base?”
Laith responded, “You’ll be the first to know if there is.”
Roger said, “Nothing where I am except a few crazy pedestrians who think today’s a good day to go shopping.”
Will wrapped his arms around his chest, shivered again, and saw his breath steam into the icy air. Wind blasted him from the sea, carrying with it even more snow. He looked at the other destroyers and frigates moored in the port. All of them were illuminated and had signs of activity. Some were taking on fresh provisions from four-ton trucks parked on the big piers adjacent to the vessels. They were clearly making ready to sail.
Forty minutes later Laith said, “Unmarked SUV stops at the entrance to the base, two men inside, ID cards are shown to the guards, the barrier is lifted, the SUV drives into the base.”
Will immediately pressed his hand against his earpiece. “Were the men uniformed?”
Laith muttered, “Couldn’t see from my position.”
Roger added, “Uniforms or no uniforms, these militarized zones will contain as many civilian workers as sailors. The vehicle’s probably normal.”
Will let his hand fall to his side. He knew Roger was most likely right. But he felt unusually tense and, despite his attempts to try to relax, could not help feeling that right now everything was out of his control.
A further twenty minutes passed before Laith spoke again. “The barrier’s being lifted; something’s obviously coming out, as there’s nothing in front of the base.” The line went quiet. “Okay, I can see the same SUV.”
Will and Roger said nothing as they waited for their ex–Delta Force colleague to speak again.
“Two men in the SUV I saw earlier . . . yes, same two men in the front, but . . . something else in the back, can’t see yet.”
Static sounded in Will’s earpiece.
“Vehicle approaches barrier, front male passenger waves a hand at guard, who is at attention and saluting, vehicle slows, then indicates right, then accelerates.” There was nothing for several seconds before Laith shouted, “Korina’s in the back. She’s called it in and betrayed us!”
Will shouted, “Direction?”
“Quayside, heading right toward you.”
Will’s heart pounded. “Roger, I want you east by a quarter mile, then south by five hundred feet. That will put you on the quayside road, ahead of the SUV.”
“On my way.” Roger gunned his Audi.
Laith shouted in near-breathless words, “I’m moving east as well. Running parallel to the SUV. Catching glimpses of it, but they’re not looking my way. They’re about two hundred feet to my right. Speed approximately twenty miles per hour.”
Laith was at full sprint and so far was matching the speed of the SUV.
Will scrutinized the quayside road adjacent to him. Three hundred yards away, one of the four-ton trucks pulled onto the route from a pier and started driving slowly toward him. “I can’t see the SUV. Four tonner is blocking my view.”
“It’s right behind the truck!” Laith was clearly still sprinting. “Get out of sight, Will.”
Will dashed across the road and into a side street and took the next right turn. As he did so, Laith nearly crashed into him. Will immediately sprinted alongside his colleague so that they were running parallel to the quayside road. “Roger, where are you?”
Roger shouted above the sound of his vehicle, “Just turning onto the quayside. Hold.”
Laith stumbled as his feet struck ice on the side street, but Will grabbed him with one hand and kept him moving at full sprint.
Roger said, “I’m stationary. The four tonner is about a quarter mile away, coming straight toward me. No sight of the SUV. Correction . . . SUV overtaking truck. I’ve got clear visibility of the target. Instructions, please.”
Will’s mind raced, desperately trying to decide what to do.
“Instructions, please,” Roger repeated. “I’ve got my rifle pointing right at them. I can easily take them all down.”
“Wait!” Will ran even faster; Laith kept right by his side.
“She’s called it in, Will.” Roger’s voice was calm but menacing. “But she might not have had time to tell them everything. If I take them down, we stand a good chance of getting out of the city.”
“Not yet!”
They moved past occasional pedestrians wrapped in full winter attire, with shoulders hunched and heads bowed against the driving snowfall. They seemed to take no notice of the two men dressed in expensive suits, shoes, and overcoats sprinting through the snow and ice.
“They’re three hundred yards away from me.” Roger sounded as though he was speaking through gritted teeth. “I need a decision.”
“Come on, Will!” Laith’s words were urgent and angry.
Will said nothing.
“Five hundred feet away. Will?”
Will grabbed Laith, skidded to a halt with the man, and spoke rapidly into his Bluetooth. “Abort. Get out of there, and head straight back to her house.”
“What?”
“Do it, Roger. We’ll meet you there. But move like fury.”
Laith stared at Will with a look of bemusement while he bent over with his hands on his knees, sucking in air.
Will ignored the expression and pointed northeast. “Her house. We’ve got to be there before she gets back.”
Laith pushed himself upright, half turned, and immediately led the way. They ran to the end of the street, turned left onto a main road, sprinted straight across it while dodging slow-moving vehicles, ran into another side street, and kept moving for three hundred yards before making the turn onto the street containing Korina’s house. Laith and Will did not slow, running at full speed for a further five hundred feet until they were at her front door. Roger pulled up next to them, and Will was relieved to see that his Audi was still covered with frozen snow. Nevertheless, he and Laith immediately started gathering up some more of the stuff from the roadside and patting it onto places on the car where metal was exposed.
Will told Roger, “Get in the house, get coffee on.” He looked at Laith. “You too, and start chain-smoking to get the room feeling like we never left the place.”
Will placed one final lump of snow onto the Audi’s hood, decided it would have to be enough, heard an engine noise in the distance, and raced into the front entrance just as he saw the hood of a vehicle emerge at the end of the road.
Will dashed toward his colleagues, who were furiously stamping the snow off their feet. Grabbing their outer garments, he sprinted upstairs to the bathroom. Holding each coat over the bathtub, he punched them to release the snow, ran hot water to melt the snow that had fallen into the bathtub, turned the tap off, and returned quickly downstairs. Hanging the coats up, he scrutinized the floor of the lounge and kitchen, grabbed a kitchen towel to mop up a few spots of melted snow, tossed it back onto a kitchen surface, and breathed deeply. Laith was sitting in an armchair in the lounge, and he had managed to get through two cigarettes and was lighting a third with one hand while holding a fresh mug of instant coffee with the other. Roger emerged from the kitchen holding two more mugs of coffee. He gave one to Will and sat down on a dining room chair. Will remained standing, trying to calm his body to make it appear as if he’d just spent the last hour doing nothing more energetic than replenishing coffee cups within the small terraced house. But his heart pounded within his chest.
Directly outside the house, car doors opened and slammed shut. Will took a gulp of his steaming hot coffee, pulled out his QSZ-92 handgun, and pointed it at the front door. In his peripheral vision, he saw Roger and Laith do the same.
The door opened; Korina entered the house. She paused in the narrow entrance leading to the lounge, staring at the t
hree men who were aiming their weapons at her. She shook her head and said urgently, “William, this is not what it seems.”
“We expected you to come back on foot”—Will took another sip of his coffee while keeping his eyes and pistol trained on Korina—“not pull up outside your house in a vehicle containing two men.” He gripped his handgun hard. “We kept our side of the bargain, waiting for you here, trusting you.”
Korina sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. But I had to make a decision, and that decision was that we needed help. I’ve not told anyone else you’re here. The two men with me are totally loyal and are experts at keeping their mouths shut.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “Then you’d better bring them in so that we can introduce ourselves.”
Korina turned, beckoned to the men who were waiting outside, then moved fully into the lounge. One man entered the room. He was of medium height, had a powerful build and a shaven head, and was dressed in a dark suit.
“This is Vitali.”
The man eyed them coldly, saying nothing.
The front door was shut, and the second man was there but had his back to them as he wrenched the door’s bolt closed. His task complete, he turned to face the room. Like his colleague, he was dressed in a dark suit, and he looked powerful and athletic. Unlike his colleague, the man was tall and had cropped blond hair and a face covered in scars.
Korina pointed at him. “And this is Markov. They’re Spetsnaz GRU.”
Will stepped toward the two special forces men, checked to see that Roger and Laith still had their guns pointed at the Russians, lowered his weapon, and tucked it into his belt. For a moment he wondered what to say. Having decided, he said, “If you’re here to do me or my men harm, I’ll kill you both before you have a chance to move a muscle. If not, you would do well to understand that your presence here could be deemed treacherous by your Spetsnaz officers. If Korina has not made that clear to you, then I’m giving you the chance now to turn around and walk out of here while you still have a job and your liberty.”
Vitali gestured toward Korina while keeping his attention on Will. “Major Tsvetaeva made two things clear to us. First, that she needed our urgent help to stop the destruction of our country. Second, that we would be breaking the laws of Russia by doing so.” He glanced at Markov, who nodded, before looking back at Will. “We understand our situation.”
