Terminal Black

by Adrian Magson

She grudgingly did as she was told, running back to the building. By the time she returned and removed the bracelet, the two guards had come back and Ferris was busy vomiting noisily down his front.

  ‘Nothing,’ the lead man explained. ‘He could be anywhere. Searching every building would take too long and we’d need a small army to do it. What do you want us to do?’

  ‘Secure the building next door and make sure everybody stays in place,’ Kraush replied. ‘And check that their escorts are armed and ready.’ The temptation to dismantle the operation was strong, but if he did that he might as well shoot himself; going back to Moscow as a failure wasn’t an option. He indicated Ferris. ‘When you’ve done that we’re taking him to a hospital. We’ll say he’s a prisoner in our charge. What are you doing?’

  He was looking at the second guard who was bending over Ferris, moving his head gently from side to side and pulling back his eyelids.

  ‘I was a battlefield medic in Ukraine,’ the man explained without looking up. He used his finger to pull back Ferris’s lip and scoop blood from the side of his mouth, then checked his ears. ‘He’s got a head injury. His eyes are unfocussed … and being sick is not a good sign.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Kraush said. ‘We take him in.’

  ‘You want us to come with you?’ said the first guard.

  ‘Yes. But stay on the outside and watch for signs of anyone taking too close an interest. But no assault rifles; side-arms only but concealed. We don’t want to start a shooting war.’

  FORTY-TWO

  Harry watched from his hide in the loft at the flurry of activity when Kraush and his crew found Rik. In spite of the cold he felt a sheen of sweat on his forehead brought on by a circuitous dash away from the park. It had been a close-run thing when the two armed guards had arrived on the run and had split up, moving into the trees with practised precision and making very little sound, relying on hand signals to communicate. It had proved that they were not merely heavies drafted in for guard duties, but were trained and accustomed to working as a team. Luckily for him, they had reached a point in the trees not far from where he’d dived beneath a heavy patch of undergrowth, before they’d veered back towards the industrial buildings. As soon as they had gone he’d made his way back to the loft.

  All he could do now was wait to see if Kraush did what he’d hoped and took Rik for medical help. While he was waiting he changed back into his normal clothes. It was a gamble but better than having to change later and risk losing sight of them.

  Ten minutes later he heard a shutter door clatter open and the sound of a vehicle engine burst into life. A big 4WD pulled out from inside the first building with one of the guards at the wheel. It stopped on the edge of the road and Kraush and the other guard, with Rik slumped between them, came out and got in, followed by Irina.

  No sign of anything resembling a transmitter, he noted. Was that good news or was it already on board? There was no way of checking.

  He dialled Clare’s number. ‘They’re off,’ he said. ‘I’ll follow and keep you informed of where they’re going.’

  ‘Got it,’ she responded.

  Harry paused to scatter some dust on the stair treads to the loft, then hurried to his car and jumped in, sweeping away most of the camouflage branches. The engine started on the first try and ran sweetly, just as Kraush’s 4WD burst out of the gates and headed towards the Beltway at speed.

  Harry felt a punch of elation in his chest. As long as they didn’t turn off and head towards the city, there was only one place near enough that they could be going.

  He set off in their wake, losing more of the branches in the slipstream and calling Clare’s number again. When she answered he told her to get to the accident unit and wait for him, and gave her Kraush’s car registration. She confirmed without questions and clicked off.

  The accident unit was a modern, two-storey block of glass, pale concrete and brick, surrounded by a car park and sparse, frost-covered gardens. The front of the building held a set of double doors, with several bays at one side reserved for ambulances, leading to ramps and three sets of swing doors for easy access to the building. It was evident that it had been built for function and fast turnover rather than long stays and bed rest.

  Harry found a space and checked he looked half-way respectable before getting out of the car. He noted several police patrol cars parked up on the verges, with officers walking back and forth carrying clipboards. They showed no interest in him and he guessed they had come in to interview accident victims off the motorway and gather evidence. Some had cameras and he assumed these were part of traffic investigation teams.

  He also spotted the two heavies from the industrial zone, sitting on a low wall by the main entrance doors watching the world go by. It was an added complication having them present but he was sure they wouldn’t have got a clear sight of him in his earlier disguise.

  He saw Clare approaching. She was accompanied by a young woman in tan cargo pants, a blue Puffa jacket and carrying a holdall.

  ‘What kept you?’ said Clare, with a wry grin. ‘We were about to go for coffee. We got here just as the bad guys and Ferris were going in. I hope he was only acting half-dead because they were almost carrying him.’ She had a certain bounce about her and seemed to be enjoying herself, which made Harry wonder if she’d been missing her old life and was being carried along by a sudden buzz of activity and the whiff of danger.

  ‘Sally Mitchell?’ he said, and shook the other woman’s hand. ‘Harry Tate. Glad you could make it. Sorry if this tore you away from anything important.’

  Mitchell shook her head. Her hand grip was firm, dry and brief. ‘Nothing that couldn’t wait,’ she said, with a slight Scottish accent. ‘I gather we have a small device strapped to a colleague’s leg, is that correct? He’s being held by hostiles, according to my briefing from London, although it was light on details.’

  Harry nodded, appreciating her business-like attitude. He described the tracker and the size of the box attached to Rik’s ankle, and mentioned the transmitter. ‘There’s every possibility it might not be in place,’ he continued, ‘with them having to bring him here. But I couldn’t afford to take the chance.’

  Mitchell absorbed the facts without fuss or surprise. ‘Not a problem. It won’t be the first one I’ve come across, although they’re all different in the tech used. If it’s what I think it is it should be easy to deal with as long as I have no interruptions and there’s no incoming.’ She smiled and explained, ‘With most of my jobs there’s usually a bit of ordnance being tossed about by hostiles. It can make things a little hairy.’

  ‘We’ll see if we can keep that to a minimum,’ Harry said, and found himself warming to her. He gestured to her holdall. ‘Is that your kit?’

  ‘Yes. But don’t worry, if I get stopped by security it doesn’t look much different to an electrician’s tool bag to an outsider. If anyone asks, I’m staying with Clare who’s looking for a friend who got caught up in a shunt, and no way am I leaving this in the car – it’s too valuable.’

  Clare asked, ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘I’m not sure until I see the device. Less than thirty minutes if all goes well.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’

  Mitchell gave her a cool look. ‘Then they might be picking bits of us out of the walls.’

  Harry intervened. ‘Thirty’s good,’ he said. ‘Anything under would be better.’

  Even without the busy surroundings of an accident unit, having Kraush and his crew and Garth Perry and his friends on the prowl, they’d be lucky to get anywhere near that amount of time before they were blown by the security guards or the opposition came storming in to find out what was going on.

  Clare’s phone buzzed and she checked the screen. ‘You’ll get your thirty,’ she said, and gave Harry a look. ‘Katya’s on her way. Just don’t let on when you see her.’

  Mitchell looked between the two of them. ‘Am I missing something? Who’s Katya?’
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  ‘A local helper,’ Harry told her. ‘The plan’s still evolving, but Clare’s right – you’ll get your time.’

  They walked through the front entrance, passing the two heavies outside who gave them no more than a glance; a man and two women didn’t fit the profile they were looking for.

  Inside they were met by a wall of warm air and two security guards who asked Mitchell to open her bag. One of them rummaged through it and gave Mitchell a surprised grin and made a comment before waving her through.

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Mitchell.

  ‘He said he hoped you weren’t a visiting surgeon,’ Clare told her, and led the way through swing doors into a long corridor with bench seats either side and a handful of visitors looking by turn concerned or dulled by shock. The triage section, she whispered, was through another set of swing doors at the end.

  Kraush and Irina were standing just outside the doors.

  ‘It’s them,’ Clare breathed, leaning into Harry’s shoulder. ‘The two tailing Ferris at the airport. I’d recognize the woman’s skanky hair anywhere.’

  ‘Well spotted,’ Harry replied, eyeing the two Russians. ‘They’re called Kraush and Irina, according to Rik, and both GRU. He’s the boss and she likes hurting people.’

  ‘Great. I’ll bear that in mind.’

  Kraush and the woman eventually made to walk into the triage unit but were stopped at the door by a young orderly.

  ‘They’re being told they can’t go in,’ Clare translated. ‘Kraush’s pissed and saying that’s unacceptable because the injured man is a foreign criminal under their supervision and if he escapes or hurts anyone the hospital will be held responsible.’

  The orderly, a hefty young man with the look of a rugby player, looked mildly interested by this but held up a large hand and stood his ground. He looked as if he were used to being confronted and didn’t give a damn.

  ‘He’s saying,’ Clare said, ‘that they have security guards on permanent call because many accident victims are highly intoxicated and in shock and often threaten violence. They’re sometimes found to be armed. He says they must wait in the corridor until the doctor has assessed the patient’s injuries because staff have to move very quickly to perform their duties.’ She hesitated until Kraush had spoken again. ‘Kraush’s not happy but I don’t think he has any authority here. If he pushes it too far they’ll have him arrested, Russian or not.’ She looked at Harry. ‘They’re not that popular at the moment and they know it, even though they think they can act superior.’

  Harry turned away as Kraush approached in case the GRU man eyeballed him and saw something he recognized. But he stormed by without looking and stopped several yards away, taking out a mobile phone and stabbing at the keys with a display of annoyance.

  The two of them being so close was going to be a complication. They needed to be out of the way while Mitchell did her bit on Rik’s tracker, and there was also the question of trying to get past that orderly on the door.

  The doors at the far end of the corridor flapped open and footsteps approached at a brisk pace. Harry turned and saw a slim, blonde woman in a white doctor’s coat. She had a stethoscope swinging from one hand and was carrying a small aluminium case and looked like she meant business.

  Katya.

  ‘Yay,’ Clare murmured softly. ‘The cavalry’s arrived.’ She turned towards Harry and said, ‘We wait here until she calls us in.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Harry said, and thought of how much of a risk Katya was taking by being here and undergoing this pretence. She might be wearing a white coat but he imagined it only took one person to recognize her and she’d be blown.

  Clare must have sensed his concern, because she said, ‘Just go with the flow, Tate. I know it’s against your big-dog instincts, but go with the flow.’

  Katya strode by without acknowledging them and disappeared through the double doors. The minutes ticked by, accompanied by the to-and-fro bustle of staff, patients and an occasional uniformed cop sticking close to a gurney. Gradually the number of people in the corridor diminished until only Harry, Clare and Mitchell, and further down, Kraush and Irina, remained.

  Then the doors opened again and Katya stepped out, followed by the orderly. She walked up to Kraush, who looked instantly confrontational, with the orderly nearby, while Irina circled in the background like a pit-bull looking for someone to bite.

  After a tense exchange, Kraush’s jaw clenched but he was clearly outmanoeuvred and outgunned. White coats here carried the greater weight and he knew it. Any attempt at pushing past them would result in a noisy stand-off. With an obvious lack of grace he turned his back on her and began talking to Irina, who was tossing her hair in a strop. Katya shrugged at them both and returned to the triage section.

  The minutes ticked away with agonising slowness, and Harry could see Kraush was becoming more and more agitated. He was pacing up and down and throwing furious glances at the closed doors as if he wanted to charge through them.

  Katya returned, this time looking sombre. She walked over to Kraush and there was a muted conversation, during which Kraush looked stunned, then sceptical and finally annoyed.

  Clare said softly, ‘She’s just informed them that their friend has taken a turn for the worse and is unconscious. She thinks there might be some mild pressure on the brain from his head injury and they need to monitor him closely for at least an hour before deciding whether to operate or send him to another unit in the city. She suggested they get something to eat in the canteen and she will call them as soon as she has any news.’ She gave Harry a faint smile, her eyes twinkling. ‘She’s good, isn’t she? I told you.’

  With a final protest Kraush walked away, followed by Irina. When they had gone Katya turned to them and said in perfect English, ‘Come with me. I told the other two that they have to wait but I’m not sure they will. In fact I think the man is probably calling someone in authority – maybe at the interior ministry.’ She looked at Harry and Clare in turn, then at Mitchell. ‘Can I speak freely?’

  Harry nodded and introduced Sally Mitchell. ‘She’s our technical help.’

  Katya gave Mitchell a look of respect. ‘We have female bomb disposal technicians, too. They are often superior to men. But your expertise won’t be needed here.’

  ‘Why not?’ Harry asked.

  ‘I was able to stand by while the triage team examined your friend’s legs. There is nothing there. He’s clean. I could see where the strap has marked the skin, but that is all. The team are just checking him for signs of concussion but I think he will be cleared to leave. I told them I am responsible for him but I can’t just take him out until they’ve done their job. It would be noticed and reported.’

  Harry was surprised but relieved that the tracker had been removed. Kraush had evidently decided it was too risky to leave it in place. ‘That’s good news. How did you manage that?’

  For the first time she smiled openly. It changed her face dramatically. She peeled back her white coat to reveal a dark blue uniform underneath. ‘There are two things built into their DNA here,’ she explained. ‘Outside it is a uniform, in here it’s a white coat. However, we should leave as soon as possible. And your friend is in danger of over-playing his part.’

  ‘Understood,’ Harry said. ‘And thank you. I appreciate your help. I hope it doesn’t cause you any problems.’

  She shrugged. ‘It won’t. I’ll make sure of it.’ She added, ‘I hope you can guarantee that there is no threat to the integrity of the Belarus government. The relations between our two countries are currently not so good and I don’t want to make things worse.’

  ‘Nobody apart from us knows of your involvement,’ he assured her. ‘Is there a back door we can use?’

  Katya nodded. ‘Of course. I just checked.’ She turned to Clare and said, ‘Bring your car to the rear of this block and wait by the entrance. It’s alongside a bicycle rack. I’ll meet you there.’

  ‘We’ll use mine,’ said Harry, han
ding her his keys. ‘Keep yours off their radar.’

  Clare nodded then touched Katya’s arm. ‘Thank you. This is above and beyond.’

  Katya shrugged. ‘I don’t like bullies and I especially don’t like what those two are doing here in Minsk. The situation between our governments is tense enough; we don’t need to be part of a cyber conspiracy against the UK.’

  Harry and Mitchell walked down the corridor and into the main reception area just as Kraush and Irina stalked back towards the triage unit. They looked ready for a fight and Harry wasn’t the only one to notice; one of the security guards on the entrance was watching them, and murmured into a radio attached to his collar.

  He just hoped the young orderly was still on duty and stopped them going inside the triage unit before Clare got Rik out of the rear door.

  ‘Let’s get round the back,’ he said to Mitchell. ‘This place is about to go ballistic.’

  The first thing he spotted outside was Kraush’s car parked on a verge in a restricted zone. It was being inspected by a security guard.

  Further back parked near the exit was a dirty black SUV with four men on board.

  Garth Perry was one of them.

  FORTY-THREE

  ‘Where to now?’ Clare asked. They were all in Harry’s car. She looked in the mirror and pulled a face. ‘God Almighty, Ferris, I hate to say this but you smell.’

  ‘Yeah, I love you, too,’ he countered. ‘My cell didn’t come with much in the way of toilet facilities.’ He was looking almost chipper apart from the bruise to his face where Harry had punched him.

  They had finally got Rik into the car without incident after the staff had cleared him to leave. It had been a tense wait but Clare had eventually pushed the rear door open and Rik had emerged looking slightly bewildered.

  They were now heading back down the side of the building towards the exit road, expecting at any second to find Kraush standing in their way.

  Harry asked, ‘Is there a back way out of here?’