‘Tell me about the maps. Everything you remember.’
Blackburn’s breathing subsided.
‘I don’t get it.’
‘Anything. What kind of maps? As if for a briefing? Were they on a wall? Were any locations highlighted?’
Blackburn didn’t speak for several seconds. Dima struggled with the beam.
‘On the Paris one — a marker said Bourse.’ He spelled it out.
‘That’s the Stock Exchange.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘Oh yes.’
Blackburn shifted his head and looked up, mystified. Dima slumped down, exhausted.
‘You trying to free me?’
‘What does it look like?’
‘I don’t get it.’
‘Look: what you saw in that bank vault is probably the most important piece of intelligence anyone’s got since they found Bin Laden.’
Dima looked round for inspiration. He saw the Uzi, its muzzle just clear of the rubble, reached over and grabbed it. Blackburn’s eyes widened again.
‘Shit, my arm’s going numb.’
‘Okay, let’s be intelligent here. I may be able to break up the beam by taking a shot at it.’ He examined the Uzi doubtfully.
‘No, no: that won’t do it.’
Blackburn tried to turn his head just enough to locate the M4. Dima followed his gaze.
‘40 mm. It’s a risk. You’ll have to trust my aim.’
They looked at each other. There was no guarantee the others would find him now. He’d turned off his radio. And if they did, more of the bunker might come down if they tried to blast their way in. Blackburn didn’t have any choices left. This Russian was his only hope.
‘What do I call you?’
‘Dima Mayakovsky.’
‘Okay then, Dima.’
‘Before I do it, I’m going to pack some rubble around you to stop the beam dropping on you when it fragments.’
Whatever air conditioning had been ventilating the bunker had stopped a good while before. It was getting hotter and stickier, but Dima worked fast, sweat pouring off him as he shored up the beam. Then he picked up the M4.
‘Okay. This is the bit where you really do have to trust me.’
Dima crouched down close to Blackburn, shielding him with his body as he positioned the weapon.
‘Close your eyes. There may be some dust.’
He aimed the M4 and fired twice into the concrete.
Nothing happened. Dima emptied two more into the slab. Half the beam lurched. Before it could move any further Dima slid his arms through Blackburn’s and hauled him out, then sat him on the edge of the shattered beam. Several seconds passed while they both caught their breath. Blackburn tried to stand. He could. He moved his arms. No serious damage. Elated, he looked round at the rubble-strewn bunker. His eye fell on the Uzi where Dima had put it down to lift him. It was inches away from his hand. Dima saw it too, looked at Blackburn. Blackburn looked at it and back at Dima.
‘You are for real.’
‘As much as any of us is,’ Dima smiled. Blackburn looked like a man who’d just been given his life back.
‘We need to get out of here before anymore of it comes down.’
Dima put the M4 in Blackburn’s hands.
‘A soldier should never become separated from his weapon.’
Dima’s brain was in overdrive. Processing the implications of what Blackburn had told him had set it racing. Solomon — back to haunt him, bent on vengeance. Beheading American soldiers, a personal nuclear arsenal, the maps Blackburn described, and Kaffarov’s words, 9/11 will be just a footnote. .
It all added up for Dima. He knew what Solomon was capable of. Blackburn had seen it for himself. He looked at the young American, full of sincerity. Blackburn’s righteous indignation at what he had seen, his mission to right the wrong. Easy to be cynical about his sense of purpose, in a world of Solomons and Kaffarovs, where loyalties were bought and sold to the highest bidder, where money, power and vengeance were the prime motivations. He was trying to plot a way forward when another explosive thud came from near the door, followed by a fresh cloud of dust. Through it came a torch beam. They were no longer alone.
52
The Lieutenant was in a rage: that much was clear.
‘Congratulations, Blackburn. You found your man. Glad to see you got your priorities right.’
Blackburn said nothing.
‘Campo and Montes figured you must be dead since there’s at least two buried in the rubble out there.’
The news hit Dima like another explosion. Zirak and Gregorin. .
Cole glared at Dima.
‘So: the executioner. You’ve made quite a name for yourself.’
Dima didn’t respond. When in doubt do absolutely nothing, just think fast and watch hard. The Uzi was half a metre from his foot. He tried to read the Lieutenant: earnest, well-bred, committed, he guessed, here because he wanted to be. In for the long haul. But with something else going on. It was all in Blackburn’s intriguing reaction to his superior officer, as if being rescued by him was the last thing in the world he wanted right now.
Cole stepped closer, eyeing Dima.
‘As good a place as any to end this.’