The Russian Defector

by Ethan Jones

  Justin fired a quick burst. Najjar’s head exploded into gushes of blood as chunks of brain matter splattered the glass windows and the white walls.

  Justin dashed toward the still-screaming mother. One look at the girl told him that she was still alive. “Arian, get us a doctor. Now!”

  “Right away.”

  “Erik,” Justin called the other team member. “Make sure the police don’t take us for the bad guys.”

  “Got it, chief.”

  Justin knelt over the girl. Her eyes were closed, and a pool of blood was forming around her tiny body. “No, no, don’t move her, don’t,” he said gently to the mother clutching her daughter’s body. “A doctor is coming. He’ll be here soon and … take care of your daughter.”

  He wanted to say, Save your daughter, but he didn’t want to give the poor soul false hope. The wound looked really bad, and, even if the girl survived, her life would never be the same. He cursed under his breath, blaming himself for not firing at Najjar’s head and not acting sooner to detain him. But I was waiting for the order. He shook his head. Since when have you done things by the rules, Justin?

  “Why did … why did he do this … why?” The woman could barely be heard as she mumbled through her tears. “Why do they hate us?”

  Justin didn’t answer. He looked at the girl, whose face was turning gray. She was still breathing, but barely. Then he looked at the terrorist’s body lying on the ground about twenty yards away. Where did he get the gun? How did he get it through security?

  His eyes then went to Arian sprinting through the hall with someone who looked like an airport security officer and a middle-aged man in a suit and tie. The doctor. Justin stood up and allowed the doctor space to work.

  He was beginning to check the girl’s vital signs when Justin’s phone rang. Before even looking at the screen, he could tell by the ringtone that it was an unknown call. He frowned. Unknown calls in his line of work were never a good sign. He stepped to the side, avoiding Arian’s curious eyes. “Yes, who is this?” he asked in an almost brash voice.

  “This is Maxime Fiske, Deputy Head of Mission at the Canadian Embassy in Helsinki. We have a sensitive assignment that requires your … eh … expertise.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “A Russian national walked into our embassy today, about two hours ago. He claims he’s defecting to our side.”

  “What agency does he work for?”

  “SVR, that’s their external serv—”

  “I know what the SVR is and what they do. You have protocols in place for walk-ins. Why call me?”

  A moment of hesitation, then Fiske said, “First of all, you’re the chief—”

  “Acting chief…”

  “To all intents and purposes, chief of the Helsinki station, so this falls squarely on your shoulders. The second, and the most important reason, is because the defector wants to talk to you and you alone.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Sokolov, Oleg.”

  Justin racked his brain for a long moment. “I don’t know the man.”

  “Well, he claims he knows you. How soon can you come to the embassy?”

  Justin looked at Erik, who had brought a group of four policemen to secure the area. “Eh, I’m at the airport and attending to an important issue, so it’s going to take some time.”

  “Well, this has become your number one priority. Come to the embassy as soon as you can.”

  A dark frown creased Justin’s forehead. “I receive orders from Mr. Moretti with—”

  “I know who Flavio Moretti is and what he does. He has already assigned you to this task.”

  “Why didn’t he call me directly?”

  “You’ll have to ask him that. I suspect it’s because he’s been in a meeting with the ambassador for the last hour, trying to figure out your connection to Mr. Sokolov.”

  “I just told you I have no ties to him whatsoever…”

  “We’ll sort that out soon. Now, report to the embassy ASAP.”

  Justin didn’t like Fiske’s demanding tone nor the way he worded his order. But he had no option but to comply. “I’ll be there as soon as I can—”

  “When, approximately?”

  “In an hour, approximately.”

  “Don’t be late.”

  Fiske hung up without waiting for Justin’s reply.

  He shrugged and glanced at the phone. A dead terrorist, a wounded girl, a Russian defector, and a cranky diplomat. What else can go wrong?

  Chapter Four

  Helsinki Airport

  Helsinki, Finland

  Justin reviewed the preliminary admittance report about the defector. There were a few sketchy details, but sufficient to give Justin an idea of what had taken place at the embassy. Sokolov was a mid-level SVR director stationed in Helsinki, but he claimed to have worked on a couple of special projects alongside Kremlin officials. This collaboration gave him access to classified intelligence reports prepared for the Russian president and other high national security advisors in the president’s inner circle. At this point, it was unclear how much of this was true, but the first checks on Sokolov’s background and status seem to confirm that his story was genuine.

  Justin tried his boss’s office line and cellphone, but there was no answer. So he left Arian in charge of concluding the airport operation, or what was left of it. Paramedics had rushed the girl out of the airport, and they were hopeful she was going to make it. The Helsinki police initially refused to allow Justin to leave, but once he produced his diplomatic passport, they had no authority to detain him. He answered a few of their questions, without divulging any sensitive intelligence. It was clear by the testimony of more than one witness and the security cameras that Justin had acted in self-defence. The whys and the hows of his possession of a pistol, especially inside an airport, was a matter to be handled another time.

  He drove the white Toyota Corolla sedan toward the Canadian embassy. He wondered about the course of events and how things could have turned differently if Moretti had given the order to nab Najjar. He might have turned violent when we made that attempt… He shrugged, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

  Justin shook his head, but he couldn’t blame Moretti. He must have had good reasons for delaying the order, and, of course, he had no idea things would get out of hand at the blink of an eye. And I shouldn’t blame myself either.

  He was trained for such situations, and he knew better. But the angelic face of the young girl—no older than five, perhaps six—was stamped in his mind. He saw it in front of his eyes as he turned onto Aleksanterinkatu Street and almost drove through a red light when he neared the intersection. Thankfully, the honk of a van speeding from the left caused him to stop.

  Justin sighed. Pull it together, man. You’ve got better things to do than cause an accident…

  His mind went to the Russian defector. What intel does Sokolov have? Why does he want to talk to me, and only to me? He tried to remember when or if he had ever met a man by that name, but nothing came to mind.

  He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he was still stopped a couple of seconds after the light turned green. A harsh honk from the vehicle behind him prompted Justin to drive. He rounded the corner, but the honking continued. He peered into the rearview mirror, then looked over his shoulder. The vehicle was a silver Mitsubishi SUV, driven by a blonde woman. She was wearing aviator shades and a dark brown jacket, or so it looked. She honked a third time, then someone rolled down the front passenger window.

  Justin reached into his holster for his Sig pistol.

  A man began to wave at him, gesturing for Justin to pull over to the side. At first, he kept going. He wasn’t about to take orders from strangers driving behind him. Then he remembered a few occasions when local assets, contacts, and operatives had met him out of the blue, without prior warning. What if they have intel about Najjar, and what happene
d at the airport?

  He drove through the next intersection, looking for a safe place where he could stop. He found it next to a park, which had a few empty parking stalls. Justin pulled into the first one and stayed in the car until the silver SUV parked behind him. He unlocked the door, but didn’t turn off the Toyota. He wanted to make sure he knew how many people were in the SUV and determine, as much as he could, their intentions from their actions.

  The woman was the first one to step out of the SUV. She kept her arms unusually far to the sides, a clear sign that she had no weapons, at least in her hands. She walked toward Justin’s sedan at a fast pace. When she was close to the rear of the sedan, he climbed out of the Toyota and faced her. Besides the man in the SUV’s front passenger seat, a third man was sitting in the backseat. Justin kept his right hand closer than necessary to his chest, so he could go for his pistol at a moment’s notice, if it became necessary.

  “Mr. Hall, I’d like a moment of your time…” the woman said in a warm voice with a slight Russian accent.

  She stopped about four feet away from Justin. The bottom button of her jacket was closed, and she stood in such a way that Justin could clearly see the bulge formed by a weapon on the right side of her waist.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “My name is Tiana Trifonova. Can we discuss something of importance?”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “SVR.”

  Justin frowned. “What business do the Russians have with me?” He believed he knew what they wanted, but he wanted to make absolutely certain.

  Tiana shrugged. “I’d rather talk about it somewhere more private.” She tipped her head toward the SUV.

  Justin grinned. “I don’t think so.”

  The Russian operative returned the grin. “Hall, always suspicious.”

  “Wouldn’t you be, if you were in my shoes?”

  “Perhaps … Look, this has to happen, so why don’t we take a ride in your car?”

  Justin nodded. “Leave that gun with me.” He pointed at her pistol. “And no one should follow us.”

  Tiana’s face twisted into a frown. “Any other demands?”

  “You insist this has to happen. Let’s do it.”

  “Sure.”

  She looked around, and, when she was certain none of the handful of passersby was paying any attention to her, she removed her pistol, an MP-443 Grach 9mm, and handed it to Justin. Then she made a hand gesture over her head, indicating to the men in the SUV that they could go. “Satisfied?” she asked Justin in an ice-cold voice.

  “Are you unarmed?”

  “Would you like to search me?”

  “Not if you answer honestly…”

  “I am unarmed.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  He waited for Tiana to climb into the Toyota, then returned to his seat. When they were buckled up, he put the car into gear and slid down the street. He looked at the SUV becoming smaller and smaller in the Toyota’s rearview mirror. Justin knew that Tiana’s phone most likely had a GPS transmitter, so her team would know her location. Still, he preferred not having the SUV breathing down his neck. If things went haywire, and the Russians followed at a distance, Justin would have a few seconds before they could reach the Toyota. Those few seconds would make the difference between life and death.

  He looked at Tiana and said, “How long will this take?”

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Your reaction.”

  “I don’t have time for riddles… I have to deal with an emergency…”

  “This is related to your emergency, which is also ours.”

  Justin exchanged a knowing look with Tiana. “Oleg Sokolov, the defector…”

  “The SVR operative turned traitor…”

  “What about him?”

  “We have intelligence that he’s hiding inside the Canadian embassy in the city.”

  “Your intel is accurate.”

  Tiana smiled as Justin rounded a corner, and they came to a set of lights. “I was expecting you to deny it, or at least not admit it so readily.”

  “That’s not my style. Besides, he made quite an entrance. Gunfire exchanges with the embassy’s security personnel and a team hunting him down. According to my intel, the team was led by a blonde woman.”

  Tiana ran her fingers through her hair and gave Justin a sideways glance. “Your intel is accurate, Justin.”

  “So, it’s clear then: The SVR wants Sokolov back.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Just like that?”

  “How would you like it to be?”

  “I don’t know; you tell me.”

  Tiana shifted in her seat and waited until the traffic lights changed. “Turn right up ahead, and let’s drive along the harbor.”

  “Why?”

  “Indulge me. I want to show you something…”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s better if you see it. It’s by my embassy.”

  “Nothing that will kill me?”

  “Not if you behave…”

  Justin grinned. “I always behave. Just sometimes people don’t like it…”

  “You’ve done all right so far.”

  “Glad you approve.”

  They drove in silence along the South Harbour. A couple of cruise ships were anchored at a distance. One of them was Viking Line, which offered cruises on the Baltic Sea. Justin had never taken one, although he had always wanted to do so. He just could never find the time.

  Tourists were meandering along the pier, snapping pictures and flagging taxis, the ebb and flow drifting mostly toward the city.

  “Ever been to Stockholm?” Tiana asked.

  “No, never been anywhere in Sweden.”

  “You should go. People are very friendly. What about Estonia?”

  “No, but I’d like to.”

  “I’d skip it, if I were you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s like Russia. You’ve seen Russia, you’ve seen Estonia.”

  Justin didn’t see the point in disagreeing with Tiana, so he just nodded.

  They passed the ferry terminal and came to the roundabout. Justin turned right and drove onto Vuorimiehenkatu Street, which ran in front of the Russian embassy.

  Tiana said, “Turn there,” and pointed to the left as they came to a fork in the road.

  Up ahead, a couple of black, box-shaped Mercedes-Benz SUVs, also known as G Wagons, were parked to the right, on the side of the embassy. Justin looked through the tall, wrought-iron fence at the meticulous lawns of the embassy, which occupied a large space, about the size of an entire city block.

  Tiana said, “Do you see them?”

  The question was rhetorical. Because of cars parked on the other side of the street, Justin could barely drive past the SUVs without brushing against them.

  “Do you know what they’re for?” Tiana asked.

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me, since that’s why you brought me here.”

  “How about I show you, since that works better than telling.”

  “Sure thing.”

  She reached over the steering wheel and tapped the horn as Justin slowed down.

  The driver of the second G Wagon rolled down his window. Justin looked through the small gap at a bearded man’s stern face. A rifle’s barrel was visible a few inches away from his head.

  Tiana said, “Say ‘hello’ to Pavel. I trust you already know each other...”

  Justin said, “Yes, we’ve met.”

  Pavel snorted. He brought up his left hand and closed the fingers menacingly into a tight fist. His light brown eyes never left Justin’s face.

  Justin showed no emotion. He remembered Pavel from an operation in Moscow, when Justin was still working for the CIS, and they were looking for a double agent. Like most times he had been to Russia, that operation had gone sideways.

  The rear window also rolled down, and Justin saw two other harsh faces. He didn�
�t know them, but they were dressed in black suits, like Pavel. And, like Pavel, they were tall and muscular, and armed to their teeth.

  “Park in front of the other Merc,” Tiana said.

  “Why?”

  “We have to meet someone.”

  “Someone I know?”

  “Someone you wished you didn’t know…”

  Chapter Five

  Outside the Russian Embassy

  Helsinki, Finland

  Justin had only a vague idea of what was waiting for him. After seeing the other SUV driver, Justin was expecting an archenemy from his last turbulent dealings with Russian security agencies. Still, he was quite surprised when he looked at the small man stepping slowly out of the front G Wagon.

  He was Alexander Derzhavin, a former Deputy Director of the FSB, the Russian internal security agency.

  Justin froze in place, and his body tensed. He felt the carotid vein throbbing at the right side of his neck. Justin’s Sig pistol was still in his shoulder holster, but he doubted it would do him much good amongst all these Russians. Besides, Tiana hadn’t brought him here to kill him. Still, the thought that he might perish at any moment sent ripples of anxiety through his body. The last time he had seen Derzhavin in Moscow, it hadn’t ended up well. The memories were still very much alive in Justin’s mind.

  “Mr. Hall. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Derzhavin said in a hissing tone and offered his hand. His English was flawless, and there was no trace of an accent. A small smile, more of a grin, danced along the corners of his thin lips.

  Justin shook the Russian’s hand with a certain amount of reluctance. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and a blue-striped tie. He was wearing a black cap, mostly to cover his bald head, but also for protection from the biting wind gusts at this time of year. His small, black eyes inspected Justin’s face as if looking for some kind of a flaw.