Will and Roger were stationary in an Audi A8 sedan, lent to them for a week by Platinum Business Jets, on Ulitsa Korabelnaya Naberezhnaya in Vladivostok. It was nine P.M., and the area around them was relatively quiet, with few cars passing by. Streetlamps were sporadic, snowfall was heavy, and visibility was poor. But five hundred feet behind them was the port, and moored within it were four easily visible and brightly illuminated Udaloy I destroyers.
Roger placed his cell phone on the dashboard and set it to speakerphone. “Laith, I’m moving in a few minutes.”
Laith’s response was instant. “Understood.”
Laith was in a BMW 3 Series, also gifted to him for a few days, parked close by on Ulitsa Svetlanskaya.
Roger withdrew a pen, a single sheet of paper, and an envelope from an inner jacket pocket. Placing them next to the phone on the dashboard, he wrote a person’s name and the words URGENT AND PRIVATE on the envelope using the Russian Cyrillic alphabet. He looked at Will. “Should I leave the sheet blank?”
Will shook his head. “That would look suspicious.” He thought for a moment. “Write, ‘My normal communications are compromised. I’ll call you from a pay phone at ten A.M. tomorrow morning. You must be available to receive that call. Your friend.’ ”
Roger nodded as he wrote the words on the piece of paper. He folded the sheet and inserted it into the envelope, sealed it, and placed the letter into a pocket. After donning a fur hat, a scarf that he wrapped around his lower face, and thick-rimmed glasses with false lenses, he glanced at Will. “Okay?”
Will smiled. “You look barely recognizable but normal. In this weather, everyone’s going to be covered up.”
The CIA operative was quiet for a moment before asking, “You’re sure I won’t be grabbed by the guards?”
Will shrugged. “I can’t be sure about anything.”
But he hoped that at this hour there’d be only two or three low-ranking sailors at the reception desk who wouldn’t dare to do anything to disrupt what should appear to them to be an emergency crash communication between a covert agent and his Russian handler.
Roger opened the door, allowing icy wind to enter the car. “See you soon.” He stepped out of the vehicle, thrust his hands into his overcoat pockets, and walked off with his head bent low and shoulders hunched. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the night.
Will spoke loudly. “He’s on his way.”
Laith’s voice responded, “Okay, I’m moving to get visibility of the building’s main entrance.” After forty seconds he spoke again. “I’m in position. I can see Roger walking to the building. He’s stopped. He’s checking his watch. He’s looking around. He enters the building.”
Will shivered, a mixture of fear and cold. Roger had entered the headquarters of the Russian navy’s Pacific Fleet. It was adjacent to the naval docks but not part of a military base. Instead, it looked like any other important administrative building in the city. Roger would be handing the letter to one of the guards at the reception. Will hoped that the guard would instantly recognize the act as highly unusual and therefore would not challenge Roger. But if he did, Will had told his Russian-speaking CIA colleague how to respond.
This is an intelligence matter. If you compromise me, you’ll be put in a military prison for the rest of your life.
The letter was addressed to a specific Russian intelligence officer. Will had no idea if that officer operated from the Pacific Fleet HQ, and even if he did, Will hoped that the late hour would mean that he had left for home some time before. Irrespective, he was convinced that the naval personnel receiving the letter would have protocols in place to immediately locate and call the officer and that in turn the officer would have no other choice than to go straight to the HQ to collect the message. The officer would then privately read the letter, be confused by its contents, but believe that an agent had tried to make contact and would conclude that nothing could be done until the anonymous agent made the telephone call the following morning.
That call would never happen. The letter’s only significance was to try to draw out the intelligence officer this evening so that Will and his team could identify and follow their target.
Laith spoke. “Roger’s leaving the HQ. No one’s behind him. He’s thirty feet away. He’s fifty feet away.” The line went silent. Will narrowed his eyes, totally focused on the phone. “He’s a hundred feet away. Now he’s out of my sight.”
Will looked quickly away from the cell phone, toward the direction from which Roger should be approaching the car. He saw nothing at first, only driving snowfall. Then light from one of the streetlamps briefly shone over a man before that person just as quickly disappeared into more shadows. Will knew the man was almost certainly Roger, but he pulled out his handgun just in case he was wrong. He looked around, searching for the man. The figure appeared again under a different streetlamp and disappeared again as Will tightened his grip on his QSZ-92. Will held his breath, then swung his gun rapidly toward the car door as it opened. Roger was there, bending low to enter the vehicle.
As soon as the SOG operative was in his seat, he removed his crude disguise and looked at Will. “There were four sailors at reception. Behind them was a security gate with another two armed guards.” He smiled. “But it’s clear that the HQ is not deemed a target for hostiles. The average age of the sailors had to be about twenty-two.”
“They took the letter?”
Roger nodded. “One of them got straight onto a landline after looking at the name on the envelope. I just turned and walked out.”
“Excellent.” Will looked at the cell phone on the dashboard. “Laith, are you hearing this?”
Laith responded in his deep drawl, “Sure am. I’ll stay put to watch the front. But you’d better move to the rear parking lot right now. The target could be close.”
Roger turned on the ignition, put the gears into drive, jammed his cell phone into a car phone holder, and slowly moved the vehicle forward. Within a minute they were at the back of the Pacific Fleet HQ, close to the parking lot. The place was nearly empty of vehicles, and those that were there were covered by thick snow. Roger muttered, “We’re in position. If the target’s arriving by car, we’ll see it.”
Laith said, “It’s a damn shame none of us knows the layout of this city.”
Roger smiled. “We’ll improvise.” His smile faded as he looked at Will. “Staying on the target’s tail is the least of our problems. It’s what happens after that I’m worried about.”
Will looked out of the windshield, staring through the heavy snowfall. “Since when do you worry about anything?”
Roger huffed. “I’m married with three young kids. There’s a lot I worry about, including my wife getting a knock on the door from a government man who’s there to tell her that her husband died doing something insane.” He shared Will’s view of the outside downpour. “Not that you’d know anything about domestic responsibilities. You’ve no such worries.”
Will shook his head. “Thanks a lot.”
Roger laughed. “If you ever do meet a woman, put her in touch with me before things get serious. There’s a lot of stuff I need to tell her about you. Just so she’s forewarned.”
Before Will could answer, Laith spoke. “I’ve got a solitary person on foot, approaching the front entrance to the HQ.”
Roger instantly said, “Heard.”
There was silence for a moment before Laith said, “The pedestrian’s not slowing, is walking right up to the entrance, walks into the entrance…” The sound of Laith’s car engine was clear. “I’ve just moved a few feet. I can see the person by the reception. The guards are moving. One of them hands something to the person. Can’t see what it is yet. The person turns, removes gloves, lifts up something. Hold.” Laith was obviously adjusting position again. “It’s the envelope. Repeat, the person has the envelope.”
“Description of the pedestrian?” Will’s voice was urgent.
“Head to toe in civilian winter attire. But judging by the posture of the sailors, this person has rank and is deemed important. Three of the sailors are standing at attention.”
Will looked quickly at Roger. “It has to be the target.”
Laith continued his commentary. “The person withdraws the letter, holds it in midair, then replaces it into the envelope. It looks like the pedestrian is talking to the guards.” Laith said nothing for a moment. “Stand by.” Again silence. “The target is on the move, is leaving the building, is heading east on foot.”
Roger said loudly, “Any sign of a vehicle?”
“Not yet.”
Will nodded. “Then we have to assume the target lives close to the HQ and traveled there on foot. I’m going onto the streets. Listen to my instructions, and be ready for my order to make the snatch.” Will jumped out of the car, withdrew a Bluetooth device, which he fixed into his ear, and dialed in his cell phone so that he was on a conference call with Laith and Roger. Instead of walking directly toward the location of the target, Will moved to the far side of the parking lot and spoke as he did so. “Okay, I’ve got the central ground covered.”
Roger drove his car away. “I’m moving north and will hold still after five hundred feet.”
Laith spoke. “I’ve just passed the target and will set my position three hundred yards to the east. Roger, watch the eastern road adjacent to the HQ. If the target crosses it and heads toward my location, I’ll need to move before I give the target a double sighting of me.”
“Understood.”
Will wrapped his arms around his chest; his breath steamed in the icy air. He was alone; no other pedestrians or mobile cars were in the vicinity. Ignoring the snowfall and wind, he focused solely on his earpiece.
Roger’s voice was loud and rapid. “The target moves across the road, heading east.”
“Shit!” Laith gunned his BMW. “I’m moving farther east. Will, move your ass and pick up the tail on foot.”
Will sprinted across the parking lot, his feet crunching deep into the snow. Turning by the northeast corner of the Pacific HQ, he ran fast along the road leading to the port before slowing to a walk. He was right by the quayside. Tall warships were berthed adjacent to the route he needed to take. Looking around, he squinted through the snowfall before spotting the target walking along the quayside. “I’m by the port, have sight of the target, and am taking over command.”
Both CIA operatives replied, “Understood.”
The target was walking quickly. Will matched the pace, maintaining a constant distance of three hundred feet. Strong winds blew snow diagonally through the air from the port and through the gaps of the Udalay I destroyers, a Slava — class cruiser, and one Sovremenny — class destroyer. The target slowed, turned to face the deserted road, looked left and right, and walked across the route.
“Target breaking left and heading north.” Will kept his voice at medium volume, even though he knew his prey had no chance of hearing him given the distance between them and the noise of the weather. “I’ve almost certainly been spotted, although there’re no signs the target is suspicious. Roger, stay north but move five hundred feet east. Laith, move three hundred feet north.”
“Will do.”
“On my way.”
Will followed the target north into a narrow side street. As he walked he could feel his handgun, secreted under his overcoat and suit, rub against the base of his spine. The route was straddled by terraced buildings and had only a few dim streetlamps to illuminate the place. He looked at the buildings. All of them were clearly business-related and had no interior lights turned on. He looked at the target.
“Target moving east!” Will silently cursed the fact that he had taken his eyes off his prey. “Now out of my sight. Laith, move two hundred feet further north. Roger, I estimate you’ll need to move about a hundred and fifty feet east.”
Will ran quickly up the empty street, the icy air causing pain in his lungs with each inhalation. Reaching the crossroads where the target had moved right, he slowed to a walk, stopped, and glanced down the route where his quarry had gone. He saw the pedestrian a hundred feet away, continuing to walk. “I’m in a residential street. The target’s home could be here.”
“Your instructions?” Roger’s voice sounded strained over the sound of his vehicle’s engine.
Will momentarily stopped, looked at the target, looked again at the street, which this time was straddled by continuous homes, some of which had lights on, then made his decision. “You both should be a maximum of three hundred feet away from my location. Roger, head south and look west for the road I’m on. Laith, head directly west. You may even be on the far end of the same street.” He stayed still, counting in his head. After a count of five, he shouted, “Takedown, now!”
Sprinting toward the target, now no longer caring if he was spotted, he saw car headlights in the distance, racing down the street toward the pedestrian.
He heard Laith say over the roar of his powerful BMW, “I can see you and you can see me.”
The target stopped, turning quickly to face Will. Roger’s Audi A8 then appeared on the street from an alley on the left, screeching as it turned hard into the road barely thirty feet in front of Will. The target was now trapped between Laith’s and Roger’s vehicles. But Will sprinted faster, racing past Roger’s car, withdrawing his handgun, until he was fifty feet away from the target. He slowed, held his QSZ-92 high in two hands, and aimed it at the pedestrian’s head. The target looked left and right but remained in place.
Will walked right up to the target. “Korina Tsvetaeva.”
The woman took three steps back, looking terrified and confused. “Yes?”
Will marched right up to her, keeping his pistol trained on her skull. “We don’t want to hurt you.”
The GRU major looked toward Laith’s car, then over Will’s shoulder at Roger’s vehicle. “Then what do you want?”
Will smiled. “Your help.” His smile vanished. “But I will gun you down if you try anything stupid.”
Korina was dressed in a long fur coat and hat and was in her early thirties. She removed her hat, allowing her long black hair to fall onto her shoulders. Her eyes were still wide with fear, though when she spoke she seemed to be making an effort to control her emotions. “So the letter was a trick to flush me out.” She shook her head slowly. The wind receded, and snow fell gently over her face.
Will nodded, stepping right up to Korina. Lowering his handgun, he said quietly, “I mean you no harm. But we need to go somewhere private so that we can talk.”
Korina narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”
“A friend of someone who’s important to you, someone who’s in danger.” He glanced at Laith. The SOG operative was on foot beside his car with his weapon trained on the GRU major. He looked over his shoulder at Roger and saw that he was in an identical stance. He called out, “Lower your weapons.” He looked at Korina. “We need to go.”
Korina shook her head. “No.”
Will silently cursed, aware that at any moment they might be spotted by a civilian in one of the adjacent houses or maybe by a routine naval dock patrol. He stepped even closer to Korina, placed a hand on her arm, felt her flinch, but retained his grip and pulled her body right up to his. He whispered into her ear, “My name is William Archer. I’m a British Intelligence officer. I know who you really are. You’re an MI6 agent. The man who’s been running you has been captured by a Russian special forces officer who wants to kill you and others like you. If he succeeds, your death won’t be the first. Several weeks ago, he infiltrated a naval base and murdered a submarine captain. That man was your father.”