by J C Ryan
“What good will that do?”
“Well, I reckon if Aguillard could have a confession from Koslov in his hands when he meets with the Russian President at the upcoming summit, it would level the playing field.”
“So, you think the Russian President is going to try to subject Giles to the thumbscrew?”
“I’m convinced he will. The Russians have showed that they’re not going to give up. Even if I’m wrong about it, Aguillard will have it as an insurance policy, so to speak.”
Margot went quiet and nodded. “Rowan, I can see the logic, but I am scared. Besides, you’re not even a citizen of France. It’s not your battle, in fact, it never was. You saved me, and I still don’t understand why you did it, although I’m eternally grateful. Now I want you to tell me, why are you doing this? Why put your life in danger for me and for a country you have no obligation of loyalty to?”
Rex found himself staring at her. He had no answer, and he knew he’d better produce one, but nothing came to mind. He could neither tell her about his previous missions while working for CRC, nor the missions after. Since he’d left Afghanistan and set out for a life of peace and quiet, every country he’d been to he’d landed in a situation where there was someone in need of help. Was it his destiny or his curse for the many killings he’d done over the years? Atonement for his sins? He’d thought about it a lot but still had no answer, not even for himself and definitely not for Margot. Instead, he just smiled and gave her the famous Gallic shrug and said, “Maybe it’s because I feel obliged to be loyal to my friends and can’t stand it when they are treated unjustly.”
Margot had stopped walking, she’d turned to him and was studying his face intently. After a long silence, she said, “Rowan, I know you’re not a teacher, and I’m sure you’re not Rowan Donnelly, but that doesn’t matter. Whatever your former occupation and your true name, you are an amazing person, and I have only respect and admiration for you. But, having said that, I can’t let you do this...”
Rex grinned and said, “And you will stop me how?”
Margot sighed in defeat. “Okay, admittedly, I can’t stop you, but will you at least allow me to arrange a meeting for you with Uncle Lucien, because what you’re planning to do could have serious repercussions for relationships between France and Russia if…” she didn’t complete the sentence.
Rex half regretted that he’d shared his plans with her. I should’ve just done it and told her later. But he also realized what Margot was saying about repercussions was true. Reluctantly, he agreed to her request to talk to the Prime Minister.
Chapter 63
Paris, France
LUCIEN LAURENT WAS ensconced in a wing-back chair in the President’s office. He waited out the President’s inevitable temper-tantrum. He understood the man’s agitation quite well, as he shared it. When Aguillard settled down, Laurent ventured another tactic.
“If we disavow this Rowan Donnelly, what harm can it do to France?” he asked.
Aguillard’s expression threatened another rant, but he conquered his feelings enough to state, rather calmly for his mental state, Lucien thought, “Tell me again what he said, verbatim.”
“He said, ‘I’m going to go and sort this out, so they leave her and your country alone once and for all. I’m not asking your permission, I’m only informing you as a courtesy, on Margot’s insistence. If you have any reason, national or international, I should not do it, you better tell me.”
Aguillard punched one fist into the palm of his other hand. “I would like nothing better than to get the upper hand over the damn Russians… But if they get their hands on him, they will torture every drop of information out of him, and it could backfire on us. We cannot under any circumstances officially sanction his operation against the Russians.”
Laurent’s secure phone rang at that moment. “That will be him, looking for our answer,” he said.
Laurent answered.
Aguillard said, “Tell him no. We cannot have anything to do with it.” But then Aguillard got a wicked little grin on his face, and loud enough for Donnelly to hear, he added, “Not officially.”
Laurent repeated what the President said to Rex but left out the ‘not officially’ part.
Rex didn’t reply but told Laurent there was one more thing he wanted to say.
“What?” Laurent asked and listened to the reply. “But you must be French… your accent is pure Parisian. No, of course Donnelly isn’t a French name, but… I see. Well, you have our stance on the matter.” There was nothing more to say.
When the call ended, Laurent said, “He said he isn’t French.”
Aguillard just nodded and made no reply to that but asked, “Do you think he can do it?”
“Well, he single-handedly subdued the five Russian kidnappers last night, and by all accounts, those guys are in bad shape. Margot assured me he sustained negligible injuries. And if you’ll recall, he greatly embarrassed three of our best special operatives in Vietnam and three Russians. Yes, I’d say he can do it.”
Aguillard nodded absently.
While he had the President’s ear, Laurent assured himself that though Margot’s privacy had been breached once again, and her hiding place all but public knowledge, the security orders would be carried out. Guards were in place and would remain in place at the Lemaire estate to ensure that neither media nor anyone else could get within five kilometers of it.
Laurent continued and pointed out that the next prickly problem with the Russians was going to raise its head when they discovered that their citizens were in a French prison.
“One Russian problem at a time, Lucien,” Aguillard said with a heavy sigh. “Let’s focus on the summit. Donnelly has a point, I’m sure the Russian President is the one who’s going to try to twist my arm this time. Maybe we can use the information the DGSI gets out of the prisoners to our advantage.”
Laurent nodded and said, “And who knows, maybe you’ll even have a recorded confession to go with it…”
Chapter 64
Lyon, France
REX HAD BEEN committing to memory every bit of the extensive tranche of information about Koslov provided to him by Rehka.
President Aguillard was to meet with the Russian President, Boris Markov, at a summit in Geneva in just three days’ time. The subject of the talks was trade and economics, both current and future, but there was rife speculation in Russia that it would be a concession from Aguillard regarding the unpopular Russian gas pipeline to Paris.
Aguillard had steadfastly refused comment to the French media and was feeling the end of the ‘honeymoon’ period that had kept him popular in the media since his election. Already, protestors were marching outside the presidential palace with placards, the mildest of which said, “No Pipeline.” Others threatened dire consequences if Aguillard caved in to the Russian demands.
With the summit only three days away, Rex knew there was very little time left to act. He asked Rehka to arrange transportation for him and Digger. He decided this was the last time he was going to use the Rowan Donnelly moniker outside of France. His plan was, after he got back from Russia and wrapped things up with Margot, who now had her brother’s family and the government of France protecting her, he’d set out on a new adventure, maybe Croatia this time.
The Rowan Donnelly who presented himself at Lyon’s airport for transport to Moscow was a different man than anyone he’d met recently would recognize. He’d left Bert’s property early enough to do some shopping. When he got to the gate with his e-ticket, he appeared to be in his late seventies, with salt-and-pepper hair, a battered fedora, a cane with a three-pronged foot for stability, and a pronounced limp. Realistic silicone wrinkles completed the look. After one horrified stare at his brown and broken teeth, the gate agent paid him no more attention.
***
Moscow, Russia
THE FLIGHT TO Moscow was routine, as was picking up his rental car. From Moscow, he drove the thirty-five kilometers to Zelenograd, wher
e the offices of Russneft were located. His hotel, also reserved courtesy of Rehka, was comfortable if dated. The room boasted elegant silvery-beige floral wallpaper that clashed horribly with the ugly red floral bedspread and 1960s-era window drapes. Rex had stayed in worse. It was at least clean, and Digger was welcomed. He wouldn’t be staying in it much, anyway, as he had surveillance to conduct.
Rex stayed in character coming and going from the hotel, that day. In the guise of a tourist, he took advantage of a tour of the city to familiarize himself with the locations of the gas plant and orient himself as to direction, roads in and out of the city, and petrol stations. He found excuses to linger in the vicinity of the Russneft offices and waited until he saw the man he recognized from pictures as Koslov emerge.
Koslov met a beautiful woman for dinner and lingered over it, drinking wine with each course, and then switching to what Rex assumed was a vodka-based cocktail before ushering the woman into the back seat of his car and following her in. The driver pulled away from the curb, and that was the end of the surveillance for the moment, as Rex had been on foot.
He returned to the hotel with Digger, had dinner in the attached restaurant, and ordered some meat to go for Digger. Both enjoyed a brief rest, until near midnight, when they left again by the fire escape stairs leading to a quiet backstreet.
Rex’s trusty backpack held the equipment and clothing he’d need for the late-night excursion to check out Koslov’s estate—Digger’s gear, comms equipment, and a set of black clothing, balaclava and gloves, not only for warmth but to make him nearly invisible in the night. Thanks to the intel he’d received from Rehka, he knew where it was and had the layout of the compound and the architectural plans for the home itself.
Digger, of course, came with his own natural black camouflage. And as soon as he noticed Rex packing the backpack, he trembled with excitement. He knew they were going to work tonight.
Rex drove several kilometers toward Koslov’s estate, a compound surrounded by dense forest. The surrounding area was flat for as far as the eye could see, but the forested surroundings provided good coverage for him to get up close. Before getting too close, Rex stopped and changed into his surveillance clothing, rigged Digger’s gear, and placed his own comms unit into his ear.
“Ready to work, boy?”
He thought the expression on Digger’s face meant, “Mate, I was born ready.”
He felt the same way. After weeks of concern about Margot’s safety, he was determined to bring that to an end in the next day or two, at least from Koslov’s clumsy attempts.
For the rest of the night and the next night, Rex gathered information, resting during the day between. He learned about Koslov’s patterns, his bodyguards, and his voracious appetite for women. Several women arrived separately during the late-night hours, and none left until near dawn. Rex wondered how Koslov functioned during the day, when he obviously partied hard every night. On the second night, he sent Digger into the compound to get a glimpse through the windows and discovered the interior boasted a room with a hot tub where Koslov was entertaining the night’s companions.
As he’d discovered while surveilling Koslov at the restaurants where the man had eaten dinner both evenings, wine and spirits were in generous supply. Koslov appeared to lead the consumption. There were a few moments when Rex began to think his careful observations weren’t entirely necessary. Koslov would be easy to overcome and persuade, if he and Digger could get past the guards. But he quickly admonished himself for that—he had enough experience to know that nothing ever works out exactly as planned. He was in full mission mode now, highly alert and attentive to everything around him. And so was Digger after Rex put the comms harness on him.
There were four guards, but only one on duty at any time, and they rotated throughout the night. The only reason, other than having the guards as a status symbol, Rex could think of for the inefficient use of the guards, was that Koslov felt quite secure in his compound and wouldn’t have needed guards at all if they hadn’t been required to open the gate for his constant parade of women.
In any case, the guard at the gate would be no problem. The problem would happen in the guards’ quarters, when he would need to take on the remaining three of them at once. He’d seen all of them by the end of the second night. They were built like weight-lifters—tall, brawny, and twice his weight. Lots of testosterone thanks to the steroids, and fortunately, thanks to the steroids, not much between the ears but aggression.
Chapter 65
Zelenograd on the outskirts of Moscow, Russia
THERE WASN’T TIME to plan a subtler approach than the one he mounted on the third night. He’d waited until two a.m., when the guard on duty at the gate was dozing on the job. The last limo arriving with a woman had left the gate an hour ago, and if the pattern held, she’d be the last arrival for the night. Another guard would relieve this one at four a.m. if it were a normal night. Rex was about to make it an abnormal one.
The summit was hours from beginning, and he had no more time to wait.
Rex hugged the perimeter fence as he made his way around to Digger’s position near the gate. Digger had crept up close enough to the guard for Rex to observe him nodding off and then waited at Rex’s command. When Rex joined him, he stood, but Rex gave him a hand signal to wait. Then Rex rushed the guard on silent feet and had him in a chokehold before he even woke up.
It was all over before Rex could even call it a fight. The sleepy guard went down like a felled tree, and Rex gagged and ziptied him with ease. His next task wouldn’t be so easy, but he now had an advantage he didn’t have before. He took the guard’s pistol with him when he walked away.
With Digger by his side, he approached the guards’ quarters and checked out what was going on inside. As far as he could tell, they were all asleep, but they wouldn’t be for long. He and Digger entered the unlocked quarters silently. With his night-vision goggles, he could see the guards sleeping in bunks. Digger waited for his command, but Rex first wanted to search the room for an intercom. Finding it, he ripped the wires from it, which woke the guards. He’d intended it to be quieter.
At that point, all hell broke loose. One rolled off a top bunk, and Digger went for him, only to receive a vicious kick in the stomach. Fortunately, the guard wasn’t wearing his boots in bed, so the damage wasn’t great, but Digger landed about two feet from where he’d been kicked, yelping.
Rex ripped the night vision equipment off his face, and by the time he managed to do that they were on him. One of them managed to kick the gun out of his hands, and a three-against-one brawl ensued. Rex had to move quickly and keep on moving and striking with punches and kicks at the one closest to him—that didn’t give him a chance to take one of them out with a single blow.
One of the attackers managed to get hold of the gun and shot him in the upper left arm. In the heat of the moment, he was aware of the bullet hitting him, and he instantly knew the bone wasn’t involved—the shot had been through-and-through. There was no time to pay attention to that or the pain, although the latter only served to make him mad. He had to eliminate the guy with the gun first. So Instead of moving away from him as the shooter would have expected, Rex closed the gap between them and kicked him in the knee with so much force the man’s knee gave way with a loud crack. The man dropped the gun, screamed, and fell to ground.
By now, Digger was back in the fight. The kick he received earlier apparently also just annoyed him as he waded in from the corner where he landed after the kick. He leapt over the guy with the busted knee and went for the one closest to Rex. Two seconds later, the guy went down screaming with an open wound in his ass, lashing out and kicking at Digger who deftly evaded his attempts to get to him.
Rex would have found it funny if he’d had the time, but there was still one guard trying to get the advantage and overcome him. While he engaged the nearest one, Digger went after the one now nursing his knee and tore a chunk out of his calf.
The third
guard must have seen his comrades going down in quick succession, and all of a sudden, the deck was stacked against him. He hesitated and took a step back. Rex saw it and followed him, landed a punch to the side of the guy’s head, followed it up with a kick to the groin, and as the guy doubled over, Rex hit him with the right knee full in the face. The man landed flat on his back and went quiet—fight over.
Digger was busy with the one who had lost part of his ass. He now had the man’s right calf in his mouth pulling and shaking violently, the man blaring with each shake.
Rex took two steps over and kicked the screaming man in the back of the head, rendering him unconscious. The one with the smashed knee was still on the floor, whimpering, and with no interest to get involved in the fight again. Nevertheless, Rex took out some of the vexation that had been cropping up in him against the Russians since his first encounter with them in Vietnam on this guy. He kicked him in the jaw, which put him away for at least half an hour.
Rex stood over the three men on the floor breathing heavily then looked at Digger and said, “Come here, boy. Are you okay?”
Digger came to him with his tail between his legs and sniffed at Rex’s wound. Rex ran his hands over the dog and found no injuries. “I’ll be okay, buddy, and it looks like you will, too. Let’s get these goons tied up.”
Rex efficiently ziptied and gagged them, taking pleasure in using their dirty socks as gags. Digger sat down and watched each of them alertly until Rex had immobilized all of them. The fight, despite the damage done, had lasted no longer than two minutes. And because the walls were thick, and they hadn’t had a chance to get to their two-way radios, no alarm had been sounded in the house. Rex was fairly certain that Koslov and company were probably not in a physical state to have heard a bomb explosion in the room where they were partying.
