Russian Law (Law Series ) (Volume 1)

by Camille Taylor

  Lucas bent down to the bag he had dumped in the foot well and unzipped it and removed the two weapons. He handed the Desert Eagle to Elena.

  “Here in case you need it.”

  Elena nodded and shoved the gun into the hand pocket of her coat as she got out of the car, Lucas followed suit.

  He spared a glance at the red granite engravings on the pedestal of the column that they had almost slammed into. Of the four engravings, ‘Peace and Victory’ was on their side and he thought it quite fitting considering their current predicament. Along with the engraving was a shield with the dates 1812, 1813 and 1814, a nod to Russia’s victory against France during the Napoleonic War.

  He followed Elena into the sea of people. Lucas could see the Elizabethan Baroque style pale mint and white palace in front of them. The style had been made popular in Europe during the 16th and 18th centuries and the Winter Palace was one of many royal residences that had that particular architecture. The general size and structure of the palace been used to illustrate Imperial Russia’s power and was quite impressive.

  The palace was the fourth to stand in the spot, the first constructed in 1711 by order of Peter the Great and was up until 1917 the official residence of the royal family and was the shape of an a large elongated rectangle, the onion dome of the grand church on the far right. Lights lit up the palace and he could see the amazing beauty of it. The whole thing was quite spectacular and took his breath away.

  It had taken hardly any time at all to get to the Palace from the station, barely three kilometers away. It’s amazing how much longer things seemed when you were dodging traffic and praying for God to spare your life.

  Elena and Lucas made it up to the barrier separating the palace from the protestors and she tried to hop over when a police officer in his pressed red and blue uniform came over, stopping her none too gently, pushing her back from the barrier. Lucas stepped forward, ready for a battle. Elena placed a hand on his arm, silently asking him to let it go even as she glared at the MDV officer whilst shoving her badge in his face with her free hand.

  “No unauthorized people are allowed inside,” he replied.

  “SVR.”

  She didn’t want to know how long that fact may be, so she may as well abuse the power while she had it, she thought ruefully. The guard repeated himself and Elena scowled at him, her face darkening as a storm brewed beneath the surface. She looked over at the palace entrance and saw a familiar face.

  “Alexei, Alexei!” she yelled over top of the mass of voices threatening to drown hers out.

  Lucas looked over to where she was looking, waving madly to get the attention of the tall man who was currently on his cell phone. He watched as the man presumably Alexei turned and sought out the origin of his name. His eyes wandered over to Elena and he held up his hand, letting her know he saw her.

  “Oh thank God,” Elena said as Alexei started to walk over to them. His badge and special pass displayed proudly on his brown suit.

  “Elena?” he said, although it came out more like a question. “Let her through,” he told the officer in a tone that dared him to argue. Very few people ever did, she knew and in the past had been one of them.

  Elena jumped over the barrier, Lucas followed. Alexei held out his hand and she took it. They began moving away from the crowd and back towards the palace. His face was full of concern as he asked, “What are you doing here? The entire SVR is out looking for you.”

  She took a deep breath. “Tell me a man by the name of James Fitzgibbon got a hold of you?”

  They made their way through the gates marking the entrance to the Palace. The gilded emblems of Imperial Russia glowing as a beam of light hit them. Alexei led them through the War Gallery and turned right heading to the eastern side of the Palace.

  Alexei nodded. “I just got off the phone with him,” he held up his cell phone. “At first I thought it was a prank but when he mentioned you and Nikolai. I had to take him at his word. I’ve already radioed for back up and closed the exits. The Presidents are getting to safety as we speak.”

  She felt instantly relieved, all the worry and fear that had been locked inside her body evaporated leaving her euphoric. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that Alexei.”

  She turned to Lucas. “Finally something is going right.”

  He smiled at her, his hand going to her waist propelling her forward. Alexei looked over at Lucas, noting the position of the man’s hand. Lucas looked up and caught the man’s eyes and wondered if the man was going to comment. He didn’t.

  Elena looked up and noticed the two males sizing each other up. Oh spare me, she thought. The two agents casually took in the other’s assets, guns, muscle and seniority. That was the only thing they had in common, that and her. One played by the book the other tended to color outside the lines. She looked from one to the other. They made a striking contrast, Lucas with his blonde hair and Alexei with his dark. She made the introductions.

  “Alexei Dmitrovich – Lucas Gates, CIA. Alexei is FSB. You didn’t use your escape plans did you? He’ll be expecting that.”

  Alexei frowned. “Who is he?”

  Lucas spoke, “Michael Ducane.”

  Alexei scoffed. “Of course a bloody American.”

  “Alexei,” Elena scolded and Alexei had the grace to look apologetic. “Do you know a man named Igor Zimtovich?”

  Alexei looked taken back. “Of course he was the liaison officer between SVR and FSB. Why?”

  “He was the one that provided Ducane with the intel.”

  Alexei swore under his breath.

  “Yeah.”

  They continued moving quickly through the palace, cutting through Alexander Hall. “The UN Summit was supposed be in St. George’s Hall down there,” he indicted to the left as they walked past what were once apartments reserved for guests of the highest ranks. “Let’s go down below, if you said this Ducane man knows the layout of the Palace he would most likely hide there where the President’s escape route was.”

  Elena and Lucas followed Alexei down a set of stairs hidden behind a large Peter Paul Rubens painting at the end of the hall into a tight narrow tunnel. It was lighted by one naked bulb every few feet but the light still cast shadows along the walls. Elena widened her eyes, she had never seen this on any map. Doubted that many knew that the tunnels existed and were still in use today.

  Alexei saw the surprise on her face and explained. “After the assassination attempt on Alexander the Second’s life in 1880 by the People’s Will, the Czar ordered the escape tunnels built in case of another attempt but never had a chance to use them. The existence of the tunnels was until recently only known by members of the royal family.”

  “How far do these tunnels go?” Lucas asked, looking about the meter and a half wide tunnel.

  “All over, there are several hidden passageways throughout the Palace. One leading to the New Hermitage and another under Palace Square. After Alexander the Third’s coronation he moved his family to Gatchina Palace after his advisors told him that it was impossible to secure the palace, so they were never used.”

  “Until now.”

  They continued on in silence, each in their own thoughts.

  “What is his motive?” Alexei asked after some time.

  “Ducane is merely a puppet,” Lucas explained. “A man for hire. Your problem is whoever is footing the bills.”

  “And who exactly is that?”

  Lucas shrugged. “That is so far undetermined.”

  “Whoever it is has a real taste for anarchy. If he’d been able to pull this off, it would’ve been the biggest political statement of the century - two Presidents - two countries one big fucking war. Can you imagine what the United States would do if their President was killed in our country? It would destroy the peace between the two countries and set us back years in negotiations and trust.”

  Alexei looked over at her surprised. “She’s right about that.”

  In the next minute he r
aised his arm and brought the butt of his gun down over her temple. She felt pain explode in her head and the world went dark as she fell to the floor. It all happened so fast that Lucas had no time to react. Lucas went to attack Dimitrovich when the Russian pointed the pistol at his heart. “Don’t try it. Drop the gun.”

  Son-of-a-bitch, Lucas thought. The bastard, they had been wrong to involve him. They trusted the wrong man just like Nikolai had, and now they were going to end up like Nikolai too. He looked down at Elena and saw blood matting her light hair. He clenched his palms into tight fists, feeling unbelievably useless and a complete failure. He had promised Dmitry he would take care of Elena, clear her name. He was breaking that promise.

  “Now turn around,” Alexei ordered.

  Lucas did as he was told, buying time. Maybe it wasn’t over yet. He’d been in some sticky situations in the past and sometimes all it took was one moment. “So you were the traitor inside Russian Intelligence?”

  He already knew the truth but he wanted the admission. His mind was working a mile a minute while he tried to think of a way to get free. He had no doubt that Alexei had lied to them about having moved the Presidents. No, they were where they were supposed to be and if he didn’t come up with a plan, both of them will be dead along with him and Elena and who knows how many others.

  “You know, you actually helped me out,” Alexei said as he patted Lucas down, discovering his weapon and pocketing it along with the spare magazine. “I was wondering how this was going to end but you ‘Mr. Arrogant American’ going around shooting SVR agents – evading the law. You are perfect as the man who suddenly flips out and kills his President along with Russia’s – no one will be the wiser.”

  Lucas looked down at the prone form of Elena lying on the cold concrete floor, unconscious. Alexei followed his gaze for a second then turned his full attention back to Lucas. “Don’t worry about Elena. I’ll take good care of her - until I don’t need her anymore of course.”

  Lucas could feel the rage burning inside him. If this bastard touched one hair on Elena’s head he was going to rip him limb from limb. Diplomatic relations be damned.

  Alexei pushed the end of the pistol into Lucas’s back. “Let’s go.”

  Using the barrel of the gun he prodded Lucas forward, directing him where he wanted Lucas to go. They went down several more tunnels before coming to an opening. Alexei pushed Lucas into the room recently carved out of the concrete. Michael Ducane looked down from his place on a ladder, his hands reaching towards the ceiling as he pressed the compliant C4 plastic explosive into the concrete.

  “About fucking time,” he muttered loudly as he spotted Alexei coming towards him.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Michael looked at Lucas, his eyebrow raised. “You tell me.”

  “Nothing that concerns you. Are you almost done?”

  “Ten more minutes and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Can you speed things up. I have some other matters to attend to.”

  Lucas knew Dimitrovich was speaking about Elena, who would soon regain consciousness.

  Ducane grunted and returned his focus to the dark grey square. “I’m not exactly baking a cake here you know.”

  He retrieved some wires from a tool box precariously balanced on the top step. He imbedded the wire into the plastique.

  “Just do your job Ducane.”

  Above them, Lucas heard the sounds of a man talking into a microphone. He could just make out the words: “Introducing the President of the Russian Federation, Sergei Smirnov”.

  Lucas went cold. They were directly under St. George’s Hall. This is what they had planned all along. This was why Nikolai Nagregor had uploaded the blueprints for the Winter Palace. He watched as Michael Ducane attached to wires to the small electronic timer. It was all getting too real.

  He thought of the men above them, the men trying to make the world a better place and here he was standing beside two men who wanted to destroy that.

  Not while he was still alive, he thought. He elbowed Alexei, the man, unprepared for the attack, dropped his gun and lost his balance, falling to the floor. Lucas didn’t wait to watch him land. He took off down the labyrinth of passageways under the Palace. He heard Alexei yell at Ducane to stop him.

  Lucas could hear Ducane’s footsteps behind him as he navigated the halls. He was at a distinct disadvantage at not having had time to peruse the schematics of the structure. Ducane came up behind him and tackled him, they rolled about the floor. Lucas used his strength to push Ducane away so that his fist could connect with Michael’s jaw before untangling himself and finding the exit out of the tunnels and into St. George’s Hall.

  “Bomb, evacuate, bomb. Evacuate!” he yelled at the room. The Secret Service were immediately on the President like bees on honey. Michael followed him into the room and produced a gun. He raised it up and took a shot at Lucas. Lucas hit the floor hard. Several screams of terror filled the room and the Diplomat’s began to panic, pushing at each other so that they could escape the room, some being knocked over in an effort to get out. Lucas thought fleetingly about the irony of the situation. Apparently diplomatic relations go out the window when their own lives were in jeopardy.

  “Gun!” was shouted by one of the agents.

  The Secret Service and FSB Agent’s all brought out their weapons in a practiced movement within seconds from the moment Ducane’s gun was spotted. Every gun was trained towards the door where Michael Ducane stood. Because of the panicking accumulation of people no agent had a clear shot and couldn’t risk shooting the bystanders. Each set of agent’s eyes were ever vigilant, moving restlessly around the room, assessing for danger.

  The large double doors at the entrance to St George’s Hall closed shut, locking the occupants of the room inside.

  He looked up at the Secret Service and FSB agents. “CIA - get them out of here!” He grabbed a hold of an agent as he moved by. “Don’t take the escape route, it’s been compromised.”

  The agent looked hard at Lucas, judging his character before nodding. Lucas having passed the test. The agent moved back to join his team, relaying the information.

  Chapter 25

  Elena felt something digging into her hip and sat up. She heard an incessant ringing echoing in her head causing it to throb more painfully. Her skull felt like it had been split in two. She reached up with her hands and felt blood. She was also feeling nauseous. Where was she? How did she get here? Slowly the events came back to her. Alexei had struck her with something, most likely his Goddamn gun. He had been involved from the start, whenever that may have been. She had never picked him for anything but a patriot. He had been planning this day for over six months, lying to her face all this time. That was why he had shown up at her office a few days ago, pumping her for information. She hadn’t given him anything but still she felt used. She had trusted him. Nikolai had trusted him.

  She got to her feet slowly and held onto the wall as her head swam, the tunnel whirling around her. She probably had a concussion. She quickly ran her hands down from her waist and over her hips and felt the bulge of the Desert Eagle Lucas had obtained from Iosif. She yanked it out of her pocket as she made her way towards the screaming voices, her mind flashed back to her basic weapons training that every agent, liaison officer and paper pusher employed by SVR had to complete. She took the safety off and then replaced it, reacquainting herself with the powerful weapon.

  Elena retraced her steps. She had not been paying much attention on the way down but she managed to navigate the maze of hallways back to the hidden door at the end of the corridor near the apartments. She turned right, cutting through the Grand Church and Guard Room and ran down the antechamber making up the Military Gallery, towards the throne room stopping outside St. George’s Hall. The fire doors had been rigged to close. Trapping them all inside, not wanting to waste bullets or accidentally shooting someone inside the room, she stuffed the Desert Eagle inside the waist band of her borrowed je
ans and went in search of something to jimmy the door. She hit the jackpot when she found an antiquated axe hanging from the wall, most likely dating back to Catherine the Great. Without any qualms over the fact that the axe was a piece of history she yanked it off the wall and took it back to the large heavy wood double doors. She was glad Carey wasn’t here to witness her lack of regard to the antiques inside the palace. Her friend would probably have a heart attack to see the artifacts treated so carelessly. Elena raised the axe high and started hacking away at the centuries old door.

  God, they don’t make doors the way they used to, she thought as she kept on chopping barely making a dent in the wood. Her arms screamed as she raised the axe again and again. Elena concentrated on the door knob and lock and after a few more hard whacks, the lock broke off with the knob and the door opened, Diplomats spilling out almost knocking her down.

  There’s gratitude for you.

  She weaved through the frightened civil servants who were making hasty getaways and looked for Lucas. He had to be here somewhere. She spotted the FSB agents and the Secret Service coming towards her with the two Presidents in tow. The agents all had their guns drawn and directed them at anyone who came too close.

  Elena pulled aside an agent of the Secret Service and handed him the axe. She flashed her identification and badge in front of his eyes.

  “Be careful, that door was rigged. We have a breach in security among our agency and the FSB. Vital information has been passed on. If a man named Alexei Dimitrovich with the FSB approaches, you’re well within your rights to shoot to kill. Cross over into the Armorial Hall straight through there that will lead you to the Court Garden.”

  She then told him the easiest way to safety from there, was to cut through the west side of the Palace past the private rooms that once belonged to the Imperial family to the West Garden where the government cars can pick up the President’s out of sight and away from the protestors.

  The agent nodded enthusiastically before proceeding out the door into the elaborately designed room. She didn’t wait to see if the agent took her advice, instead she entered the hall, gun at ready.