Fifteen minutes later, Korina was driving fast while Will used a small flashlight to study the rental car’s road map of Moscow. He noted that the city was surrounded by an outer, a central, and an inner ring road and that nine motorways led into and out of the metropolis. His cell phone rang; he put the map and flashlight down to listen to Roger’s voice.
“We’re on the M-10, approaching Moscow from the northwest. We’ve just passed signs for Skhodnya. Target is driving at normal speeds.”
“All right.”
Keeping her eyes on the road, Korina said, “We’re only three or four miles behind them.”
Will spoke again into his phone. “We’re going to gain speed and try to overtake your two cars and the target. Instruct all of the team that we need to switch to military comms.”
“Understood.”
Korina further depressed the BMW’s accelerator, switched lanes, and sped up the motorway. Will leaned to the rear passenger seats, rummaged through his Bergen rucksack, and withdrew two waterproof tactical communications systems. Pulling open his upper garments, he placed one of the sets on his body, using strips of black masking tape to fix the flesh-colored wire containing the earpiece and throat microphone to his skin. As he finished buttoning up his shirt and jacket, he said, “I need to put the other one on you.” He smiled. “Either I can tape the cord on you, or I can get close and personal and fix it to your body in the manner that most female surveillance operatives prefer.”
Korina also smiled. “My skin reacts badly to tape.”
Will opened her jacket and blouse and strapped the set onto her waist. Holding the wire, he threaded it underneath her bra, alongside one breast, and out of the top of her underwear until the system was secure. After turning on the set and selecting the correct channel, he gently fastened her clothes and said, “Right, we should all be linked in.” He turned on his own set and spoke into the throat mic. “Roger, Markov: can you hear me?”
Markov replied, “We can.” He and Roger were in the vehicle closest to the sailor. Roger was the driver.
“Vitali, Laith: what about you?”
Laith answered. He was the passenger in the other vehicle. “Yeah, we’re getting everything. We’re about a quarter mile behind the target. We should switch over in one mile.”
Roger said, “Agreed.”
Korina was now driving at ninety miles per hour. The motorway had lights straddling its route, but they were spread out and required her to occasionally flick on her high beams as she raced along the route.
After five seconds, Roger said, “Okay, we’re slowing down to fifty. The target’s moving away from us. Vitali, get your vehicle into point.”
“We’re on our way.”
Will looked at Korina. “We’re about nine miles from the city’s outer ring road. We’ve got to be ahead of the target before he reaches that point.” He reached for his MR-445 Varjag pistol and said into his mic, “Any sign of cops where you are?”
Laith said, “None.”
Markov replied, “Nothing.”
Will glanced at Korina. “Increase speed to one twenty.”
Korina gunned the engine, and within moments they were traveling at the required speed; the road lights now sped past them.
Will checked the workings of the handgun. “You should see us any moment now. We’ll maintain speed as we pass you. Let me know if the target gets spooked.”
They drove past civilian vehicles, occasionally switching lanes to overtake any that were in their way.
Twenty seconds later, they spotted Roger and Markov’s car. It had picked up speed again to match that of the point vehicle and the target. Will said, “This is us, coming past you.”
Ten seconds later, they were approaching Vitali and Laith’s vehicle and three hundred feet ahead of them the target’s vehicle was easily visible. Laith said, “You pass us… you pass the target
… hold… he’s continuing as normal… don’t think he’s spooked. And I tried to get your license plate but couldn’t because of your speed, so there’s no way the target could ID you.”
Will glanced at Korina. “Keep the speed up until we’re out of sight.” Into his throat mic he said, “Let us know when we can slow down and to what speed.”
Vitali answered, “Not yet.”
Will waited, silently counting the seconds.
Vitali came on the air again. “You’re out of sight of us and the target. Our speed is seventy-three MPH.”
“Heard.” Will nodded at Korina. She immediately braked until they were traveling at exactly the same speed as the cars behind them, and then she moved the vehicle into the middle lane. Will spoke into his throat mic, “We must be very close to the MKAD outer ring road. Has the target switched to the right lane yet?”
“Negative,” Laith answered. “No indication yet that he’s going to exit the M-10.”
Will silently cursed while examining his surroundings. More flashing lights ahead, but this time they covered two of the lanes. He said to no one in particular, “Large military convoy ahead. Given that you don’t think the target clocked our plates, we’re going to stay behind the convoy and hope we don’t look suspicious to him.”
They drew closer to the convoy until they could see a column of twenty trucks containing troops in the central lane and nine trucks holding massive 9A52-2 BM-30 Smerch 300 mm multiple rocket launchers driving in the slow lane. He nodded at Korina. “This will do. Get in behind them.”
She did so, now driving at forty miles per hour. “The convoy’s heading into Moscow. The army’s preparing to defend the city if everything goes wrong.”
“Vitali, you should see us and the convoy at any moment.” Will spoke sharply.
A few seconds later, Vitali replied, “We’ve got you.” The line went silent for a while. “Target’s maintaining speed, slowing down, he’s coming right up behind you, he’s overtaking you, no chance he’s taking the exit.”
“Vitali, Laith: take point. Markov, Roger: stay behind them. We’ll fall in at the rear.”
They drove for fifteen minutes, passing the exits to the central and inner ring roads. The target was heading into the heart of Moscow.
Ten minutes later, Markov said, “He’s holding something in his hand, close to his head. But unless we pull up alongside him, it’s going to be impossible for us to know what it is.” Silence. “He’s slowing down, has got the option of an exit, not indicating, slowing further… Fuck! He’s taking the exit at speed, no indication. He must have spotted us!”
Will’s stomach churned. “He’s holding a cell phone.” He withdrew his handgun and looked around. “Sailor boy knows fuck all about antisurveillance. He’s not spotted us. But someone else has, and that person’s telling our target what to do. Taras is mobile and nearby.” Will wasted no time. “All of us: follow him in. Don’t worry about being spotted.”
Moscow was now before them. Only a few other cars were on the road.
Will said, “Taras is guiding him to their meeting location, but he’s going to do it in a way to make us lose our target. Markov, is he still on his cell?” Will breathed deeply to try to calm his rapid heartbeat.
“The whole time.”
Will looked around, but this stretch of road was deserted. He wondered how Razin was able to stay so well hidden. He decided he knew how. Speaking to everyone, he said, “Taras has gone ahead, probably to the meeting place. He doesn’t care about our team and formation now, because the target is going to use a preprepared antisurveillance route.”
Laith said, “Maybe we should take the target down-force him to tell us where he’s meeting Taras?”
“No, Taras hasn’t given him the route yet, and when he does he’ll only supply him with bits of it at a time. Right now Taras doesn’t want the target to know where he’s meeting him, in case we do precisely what you suggest.”
Markov picked up the commentary. “He’s slowing down again, he turns left into a side street, no other vehicles are here, he drives on, I see his brake lights…” Silence. “I see him stop, reverse lights are on, he backs up, he moves his car into a parking space.”
“He’s going on foot!” Will’s heart thumped faster. “Markov, jump out and get close to him. Roger, park, secure your vehicle, and join Markov. Concealed handguns and spare magazines only. Vitali, Laith: move further into the city. Then park until we have an idea where he’s going.” He glanced at Korina. “I’m getting out; I want you to stay mobile.” He told everyone, “We’re getting close now. But watch out for police patrols. If any of you get stopped, try to use GRU ID to get out quickly, but don’t get delayed. If it looks like they’re suspicious, do what you have to.” Will put his pistol and spare ammunition into his overcoat pocket, opened the car door, and jumped out onto the street.
Markov muttered, “Target’s on foot, looking right at me. Now he turns, walks away.”
Roger and Markov were two hundred feet away from Will. He saw them start to walk, tailing the target.
Will followed but kept his distance in case he needed to suddenly change direction. Speaking quietly, he asked, “Description of sailor boy?”
Roger answered in a near whisper, “Hooded, black down coat, jeans, running shoes. He’s walking quickly.”
“Cell phone out?”
“Not right now.”
The sailor had as yet been given the directions for only the first leg of his journey on foot.
Large snowflakes fell through the black air, illuminated by streetlamps. The sweat on Will’s face immediately turned icy cold; he rubbed it away before it froze. He thrust his hands into his overcoat pockets and gripped his handgun.
They walked past terraced residential and commercial buildings on either side of the street. All of the properties were in darkness. As they neared the end of the street, Roger muttered, “He’s stopped. He’s turning. He’s facing us, standing underneath a lamp. We’re a hundred feet from him, easily visible.” Roger went quiet for a few seconds. “He’s reaching into his pocket, pulls out something… could be his cell… correction, it’s a pack of smokes. He lights a cigarette, still watches us, remains still.”
Will stopped and waited fifty feet behind the CIA operative and the Spetsnaz soldier.
“He’s got direct eye contact with us… bastard’s smiling. He checks his watch, smokes some more, flicks his cigarette away, turns his back on us, but he’s still waiting.”
Will’s mind raced. He briefly wondered if this could be the place where the sailor was meeting Razin. He thought it was unlikely, that it was too risky when Will’s team was right by the target. But so far Razin had not cared about risks or opponents. Will said quietly, “Watch your perimeter. Taras could come at us from any direction.”
Five minutes passed. Nothing happened. Will, Roger, and Markov remained static, watching the target but also keeping their hands firmly fixed on their hidden pistols in case they were attacked.
Ten minutes passed. The target did not move.
Fifteen minutes. Markov advised them that the target had just lit another cigarette.
Will checked his watch. It was 5:16 A.M.
After seventeen minutes, Will was about to tell the rest of the team to drive their vehicles closer to the area.
But Roger spoke first. “He drops the cigarette, stamps on it, and walks away.”
Roger and Markov walked. So did Will.
“He’s running!” Roger immediately broke into a sprint.
Will sped after them, shouting, “What’s ahead?”
“Main road.” Markov was breathless. “He could be heading there for a mobile pickup.”
“Unlikely.” Will increased his speed. “Anything else on that road that could be useful to him?”
There was silence for a moment before Markov said, “Not sure.”
A thought suddenly entered Will’s mind. “What time does Moscow’s subway system open in the morning?”
“Five twenty.” Markov went silent for two seconds. “Shit! He was waiting for the system to open. Tverskaya and Chekhovskaya stations are on the road he’s headed toward.”
Will was now at full sprint, running across snow-covered pavement, between parked cars, and along the center of the street. “Are they interlinked?”
“Yes. Between them, there are three lines through the complex, giving six possible directions.”
Will grabbed his throat mic. “Korina, drive one mile north. Wait there. Vitali, Laith: get to any station east of me. Park there and await updates. The rest of us will follow him in on foot.”
Will reached the main road and saw his colleagues sprinting right, then crossing the route. The target was ahead of them, running fast.
“He’s gone into the Chekhovskaya entrance.” Roger was only fifty feet behind the sailor.
Will called, “Markov, do these comms systems work under- ground?”
“Most of the time.”
Will’s stomach tightened. “We’ll have to hope they do. I’m taking the Tverskaya entrance. Keep talking to me inside.”
He ran into the subway station. Aside from one official, it was empty. Grabbing some notes of rubles from his pocket, he approached a ticket machine, bought a one-day pass, cursed the few seconds he had lost, and sprinted to the barriers. “Which line?”
“Don’t know. We’re following him further into the station, but he’s not yet committed to a platform.”
Will moved through the barrier and along a corridor; then he paused by a map of Moscow’s subway system and memorized the names and locations of the other stations in the vicinity. He saw that only the green line traveled through Tverskaya, although he could access Cherhovskaya and its other two lines from within the complex. He moved forward, desperate not to lose communication with Markov and Roger.
Markov’s voice came into his earpiece, speaking in a slow, deliberate manner. “He’s going to take the purple line, heading east.”
“Damn!” Will searched for signs to Cherhovskaya.
“No, wait.” Markov’s voice grew quieter but was clear. “We’ve got seven minutes before our train arrives. Check what time the next green line train heads south.”
Will ran to the platform and saw that a train was due to arrive in less than one minute. He relayed this to Markov.
“Good. If you take that train, change at the next stop at Okhotny Ryad, and then head north on the orange line, you can be at our next stop at Lubyanka before we get there. If the target gets off at that station, you’ll be ahead of him, and we can drop out of sight.”
As Will stood on the deserted platform, watching his train emerge from a dark tunnel and come toward him, he said, “Provided my connections are swift.”
Roger spoke. “It’s a risk, but I think my friend’s right. Taras could have us running around all day as long as we’re stuck like glue to the target. Maybe we should gift him a deliberate mistake.”
The train drew nearer. Will desperately tried to decide what to do. By getting onto the train, he could be rendering himself useless to his surveillance team. Or, if the risk paid off, he could take up point in a way that would make the target think he had lost his current two followers. The train slowed and stopped, and its doors opened. Will sighed and stepped forward. “I’m getting on the train.”
Three men were in the carriage. They looked to be in their late twenties, had shaven heads, were brawny, and carried bottles of liquor. They eyed him from the end of the carriage. Will lowered his head to avoid eye contact with the drunken group and remained standing by the doors. “I’m moving south. Mobile units, can you hear me?”
The line crackled for a moment before Korina said, “Yes, William. I’m stationary near Belorusskaya subway station, north of you.”
Over static, Vitali said, “Laith and I are northeast of your location, outside Chistiye Prudy station. We’re not going anywhere until you tell us where.”
The train rattled as it continued its journey. Will tried to imagine where Razin was waiting within Moscow. He wondered if Razin might not even be in one of the other carriages on this train or on the train containing Markov, Roger, and the target. Or maybe he was now watching Korina or Vitali and Laith, readying himself to walk up to their vehicles and use a knife to gut the occupants.
The train stopped at Okhotny Ryad. He stepped out of the carriage and began walking. So did the three men. They were laughing.
Roger spoke, but his words were distorted.
“Say again.” Will held his throat mic. “You broke up.”
This time the words were clear. “Three minutes until we depart.”
Will followed signs for the orange line, walking quickly along a brightly illuminated tunnel. He heard the sound of glass smashing behind him. The drunken men laughed again.
“Two minutes until we leave.”
Will walked out of the tunnel and onto the orange line platform. Looking at the electronic timetable above him, he saw that his train was due to arrive in one minute. Checking his watch, he said, “It’s going to be very tight.”
The three men emerged onto the platform. They were looking at him. One of them called out in Russian; his words were slurred. Will shook his head, walking away from them until he was farther down the platform. He heard the noise of his train, and soon it was thundering alongside the platform, its bright interior and exterior lights causing him to wince. When the doors opened, he walked into the carriage.
Markov spoke, although it was impossible to understand what he said. Will was about to respond but stopped as the three men jumped into the same carriage he was in. They looked at him, grinning. Two of them took swigs from their liquor bottles. The third held his by the neck. It had been smashed in half and was nothing but jagged edges at one end.
Will pushed his throat mic flush against his skin, and said in a near whisper, “Not sure if you can hear me. I’m on the orange line.”
The train pulled away. Will moved farther down the carriage. The men took several steps nearer to him, until they were only a few feet away. One of them took another big slug of spirit, then spat the liquid at Will. Will shook his head again, moving farther away from them until he was at the end of the carriage.
“Our train’s arrived, we’re-” The voice was Markov’s but was replaced by a crackling noise.
Will said loudly, “Say again.”
The Russian men heard his words. The largest of the three big men muttered, “American?”
The men’s grins vanished, replaced by looks of hostility.
Will said nothing.
The Russian holding the broken bottle pointed its deadly shards toward Will’s head, while nodding. “American.”
Will momentarily closed his eyes and silently cursed. He had no idea how long the journey to Lubyanka would be, but he thought it would be only a minute or two before he arrived there. Under no circumstances could he be delayed. He smelled bad breath and alcohol. Something sharp touched his cheek. Opening his eyes, he saw that the men were right by him. The largest held his makeshift weapon against Will’s face.
Will smiled. Quickly, he swept his arm to knock the bottle away, stepped forward, and punched the flat of his hand into the man’s nose, crumpling it into a bloody mess and sending the man staggering back, clutching his face and screaming. Will dropped low as the two other men tried to punch him in the head. Using the heel of his shoe, he kicked one of them in the base of his knee, thrust sideways and upward, and used the power of the movement to smash his elbow into the other man’s jawbone. Both men fell to the floor. The big man with the broken nose shook his head, pulled his hands away from his blood-covered face, bellowed, and rushed toward Will. Will took one step to the side, moved low, and swung his fist upward into the man’s gut as the Russian raced forward. The force of the impact lifted the man’s entire body weight off the floor and caused him to vomit the liquor and all other contents from his stomach.
Will looked at the three men writhing on the ground by his feet, then walked quickly over them to the train’s doors. The train was slowing. Into his mic, he said, “I’m approaching Lubyanka station.”
Roger answered in a clear voice, “Keep sharp. We’ve no idea what the target’s doing. He’s sitting at the end of our carriage, looking at us with a grin on his face.”
“Which carriage are you in?”
“Second from the front.”
Will’s train stopped. He ran out of the carriage and along the platform’s exit, searching for signs of the purple line. As he did so he said, “Vitali, get your car to Kitai-Gorod station in case the target stays on this line. Korina, move further east in case the target switches lines and goes north.”
They both replied, “Understood.”
Will reached the purple line platform. A few other people were there, and most looked like early-morning commuters on their way to work. Will was glad of their presence, as they would give him some cover. He moved to the far end of the platform so that he would be by the back of the train when it arrived, away from Roger, Markov, and the target.
Markov said, “We’re slowing down, approaching Lubyanka.”
“I can hear your train.” Will looked along the platform. Some more commuters emerged onto it and joined the others, who were now moving closer toward the incoming train. “What’s the target doing?”
“Still sitting, but close to the doors.”
“Where are you?”
“We’re both in seats, far enough away from the exits to lose him if he bolts as the doors shut.”
“Good.”
The train emerged and slowed as it traveled alongside the platform. Grinding to a halt, the train’s doors opened. No one got out. Everyone on the platform started walking in. Will started moving with them, staying close behind the couple in front of him.
Roger’s words were quiet and controlled. “He’s still sitting, looking at the doors… we’ve just received the signal we’re about to depart… doors are closing… he still sits… now he’s up and running. He’s moving out of the train!”
Will looked rapidly along the platform. At the other end he saw the sailor sprint out of the train just as the doors closed behind him. In the same carriage, Roger and Markov were now standing, their palms pressed against the window nearest to the platform while they shook their heads and stared at the target. Their playacting seemed to work. As the train began to pull away from the platform, the sailor turned, smiled, and raised a finger at them before spinning back and continuing to run. He had not seen Will.
Will said, “Roger, Markov: your next station is Kitai-Gorod. Get out of the subway there.” He moved along a corridor until he was heading toward the station exit. The target was walking fast and had his cell phone planted on his ear; he was clearly receiving new instructions from Razin.
Will followed him through the exit barriers, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the daylight outside the station. The snow was heavy, the air was freezing, people and cars were on the streets. Keeping a distance of 150 feet behind the sailor, Will matched his pace as he walked along a sidewalk. After thirty seconds, the target stopped, kept his phone against his head for a moment, then snapped it shut and put it into a pocket. Will waited. The sailor looked around, but not back at Will. Beside the man was the Lubyanka building. It was the current headquarters of the Border Guard Service, and it also contained one directorate of the FSB. But during the era of the Soviet Union it had been a notorious prison for political dissidents and spies. It was the place where Sentinel had been incarcerated and tortured for six years.
The target was about to walk across the road but stepped back as fourteen military trucks quickly turned onto the route. Pedestrians and cars stopped on the road to give way to the convoy. As it thundered past them and the target, spewing up snow from the road, Will quickly glanced at the military vehicles. They were stuffed with armed paratroopers wearing sky blue berets. As the last truck passed Will, he saw that one of the soldiers at the back of the vehicle looked familiar. In an instant, he recognized him as the young soldier who had been unable to assemble his rifle during the flight to Moscow. The man was looking not at him but at the weapon Roger had expertly assembled for him.
The target crossed the road. So did Will.
Will spoke into his throat mic, “We’re heading southeast.”
“You’re heading toward our position outside Kitai-Gorod.” Vitali’s voice was clear.
“And us.” Roger sounded as though he was walking fast or jogging. “We’re just about to exit the same station.”
Will nodded. “Roger: you and Markov are compromised so can’t be seen on foot. Take over Vitali’s vehicle and head a few hundred yards further south. Then wait there.”
Markov answered, “We’ll go to Nikol’skiy Pereulok.”
“Okay. Vitali, Laith: get on foot and stay outside the station. Korina, the target might be heading for the river. Get mobile, and see if you can find somewhere there or near there to wait.”
After another minute of pursuing the target, Will saw the subway station. He examined all the pedestrians near it and spotted Laith standing to the left of the entrance and Vitali about thirty feet away from him. “I can see you both. If the target goes into the station, I’ll drop back to allow you to take point but will follow you in. If he doesn’t go in, take point and I’ll go ahead of you all.”
Vitali and Laith shifted position. Neither man spoke.
The sailor walked up to the station and stopped suddenly. He was right next to Laith. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his cell phone and listened to it. Will watched him, motionless. The target closed his phone and kept walking, passing the entrance and continuing down the street. Laith walked behind him; Vitali moved to the other side of the road to follow him. Will waited where he was for a few moments, then walked quickly across the road. He moved into another street before turning left onto a road that ran parallel to the route containing the target. Now that he was out of sight of the sailor, he broke into a jog, dodging pedestrians on the ice- and snow-covered sidewalk. As he ran, he passed a stationary vehicle. Inside it were Roger and Markov.
Vitali said, “He’s still walking, same pace.”
Will replied, “I must be ahead of you by now. Let me know if he deviates from the road.” He reached the end of the route, broke left, and continued forward until he was back on the same street as the target. He stopped. “I’m at the end of the road.”
Laith said, “We’re halfway along it.”
Will started walking away from the team behind him.
“Target’s increasing pace.” Vitali’s voice was quiet. “William, I can see you, and we’re getting closer to your location. Increase speed.”
Will did so.
“Target moves through crossroads, keeps going straight.” Vitali’s voice grew louder. “Korina, we’re following the target toward Moskvoretskaya Naberezhnaya, on the river. Where are you?”
Korina answered, “On that road, close to the place your route joins it.”
Will said quickly, “Go east before he spots you.” He kept walking fast until he reached the main road and the adjacent Moskva River. “Roger, Markov: I’m turning west on the road. Start driving toward my location.”
He walked faster for a while and then slowed to his previous pace. Soon the target would reach the road and Will would know if he was continuing to walk behind him or had instead turned left toward Korina’s location. A Russian voice, amplified by a loudspeaker, barked close to him. Will froze, then turned to face the noise. Two powerful river police boats and one military gunboat sped along the river, knocking aside large sheets of ice that were floating on the surface. The Russian man speaking through the amplifier kept repeating the same sentence. Will looked at the various civilian vessels on the mighty river and saw that they were slowing. He understood what was happening. They were being told to berth, that only military and police boats were now allowed to use the route.
“Target’s turned left, heading east.” Laith’s voice was tense.
Will silently cursed and increased pace again as he said, “Markov, Roger: get to me fast. I need picking up.”
Roger answered, “On our way.”
Will mentally pictured the road map of Moscow he had earlier studied. “Korina, he’s heading toward the bridge at Sadovnicheskiy Proyezd. Are you east of that place?”
“Yes. I’ve parked, although I’m not sure how long I can remain static.”
“Do what you can. If he doesn’t go south on the river crossing, he’ll be coming toward your location. Roger, Markov: I need you here now.”
“We can see you.” Markov’s deep voice was controlled. “Start running, we’re going to have to pick you up at speed as there’s nowhere to safely stop on this route.”
Will did so. Cars passed him, but none of them belonged to his team.
“We’re three hundred feet behind you… now two hundred… now one hundred… now fifty… passenger door’s open… we’re slowing…” Markov paused. “Look left now.”
Will glanced to his side, saw the car and its open door, sprinted faster to keep up with it, and dived headfirst into the rear of the vehicle. Markov grabbed his arm and pulled him in. Roger thrust his foot down on the accelerator, causing the car to skid on a patch of ice before getting a grip and pulling away fast.
Will slammed the door. “Take the next bridge, then double back on the other side of the river so that we’re heading east and paralleling the target.”
Roger drove fast, taking them right up to the eastern tip of Red Square before turning onto the crossing to take them south, over the river. Once they were over the waterway, Roger turned left.
Will looked across the river. “We’re heading back toward you from the other side of the river. Where are you?”
Laith answered, “Target’s slowing down, on his cell again, about a hundred and fifty feet from Sadovnicheskiy Proyezd.” Laith went silent. “Hold, something’s happening.” More silence. “His phone’s stowed away. He’s stopped. Now he’s looking left and right along the road.”
“He’s going to cross it and take the bridge.” Will placed a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “We must be at the other side of the bridge before he gets on it.”
Roger accelerated harder, swerving expertly between two cars to overtake them.
Vitali spoke. “Target’s spotted a gap in traffic. He’s running over the road. If we follow him we’ll expose ourselves, as this isn’t a place pedestrians would normally cross.”
“Stay on your side of the road.” Will’s mind raced. “Korina, can you turn around?”
“Impossible on this main road. But I can abandon the car and get closer on foot.”
“No, stay with the car. It’s vital we retain one mobile unit on the north side of the river.” Will spoke to everyone. “Okay, we’ll take up point as soon as the target reaches the south end of the bridge. Once we know where he’s headed, I’ll update you so that we can adjust formation.”
“He’s on the northern end of the bridge.” Laith’s voice was quiet. “He’s slowed to a fast walk. We’re stationary now. He’s a hundred and fifty feet away from us. Bridge has got medium traffic in both directions. He walks onward.”
Will could see the bridge. Urgently, he asked Roger, “Can you stop anywhere here?”
“Difficult, but I’ll put my hazard lights on and fake a breakdown. If cops or other officials arrive, I’ll deal with it.”
Will nodded. “Vitali, Laith: update please.”
“He’s slowing”-Vitali paused-“he’s stopped halfway along the bridge.”
“Stopped?”
“Stopped. Now he’s looking around.”
Will’s heart raced. “Is his cell back out?”
“No.”
Roger pulled the vehicle onto the road’s hard shoulder. Will jumped out of the car, thrust a hand into his pocket, and gripped his handgun. Roger and Markov also exited the vehicle. Will glanced in the direction of the bridge. “Everyone, the bridge is the likely meeting point. Repeat, bridge is meeting point.” He darted a look at Markov. “Come with me. Roger, stay with the vehicle.”
Roger looked angry. “I should be with you.”
Will shook his head impatiently. “The chances of Taras doing a mobile pickup of the target are now very high. If that happens, you’re the only man south of the river who can tail him and take him down. Everything depends upon you staying with your vehicle.”
Roger smiled; his anger evaporated.
Will and Markov moved alongside the road until they were close to the bridge.
Laith said, “He remains stationary. He tries to light a cigarette.”
“I’ve got another pedestrian on the bridge.” This came from Vitali.
Will and Markov instantly stopped.
“He’s heading from the south side… big guy…” Vitali went quiet. His next words sounded confused. “He looks out of place… not right for this weather. He’s not wearing a coat.”
Will snapped, “Vehicle?”
“None, aside from civilian motors going back and forth on the bridge.”
Will sprinted, pulling out his gun. “It’s him! It’s him!” He pulled back the workings of his weapon. “Laith, Vitali: get closer to the bridge so that you’re ready for takedown, but stay out of sight of the target for now!”
Markov was running fast by his side, his handgun held at waist level.
Will reached the bridge and turned onto it. He saw cars, heavy snowfall, more military boats cruising along the river beneath him, and a man walking at a steady pace with his back to him, no more than two hundred feet away. Will stopped and grabbed Markov’s arm to bring him to a halt. “Wait, wait.”
The man reached the target and stopped right next to him.
“They look like they’re communicating.” Will held his fingers against his throat mic. “No other pedestrians are on this bridge. But why the hell is he here without a vehicle and without an overcoat?”
Vitali said, “We’re at the other end of the bridge. We see them both. They’re definitely talking. Big man pulls out something… can’t see what it is.”
“Nor can I,” Laith added.
“Big man places a hand on target’s shoulder…” Vitali sounded totally focused. “… target tries to shrug him off… tries to move away… big man pulls him closer… something in big man’s hand…”
In an instant Will knew what was happening. “It’s an assassination! Takedown now! Now!”
He sprinted along the bridge, ignoring oncoming civilian vehicles sounding their horns. His feet slipped on the snow and ice beneath them, but he kept upright and ran faster. Markov was right by his side, his gun now at eye level.
Will raised his weapon to shoot. He was only 150 feet away. As he did so, the big man spun to face him, using the sailor as a shield.
It was Razin.
In a flash, the Russian raised a handgun, firing three bullets at Will. One of the bullets sliced alongside Will’s face just as he and Markov dived behind a passing car that had come skidding to a halt. Getting to his feet, he could see the sailor beyond the car, lying on the ground; blood-saturated snow surrounded him. Beyond the dead body, Razin was sprinting away, dodging between cars.
Will and Markov chased. Markov shouted, “Vitali, Laith: he’s coming right toward you!”
They could catch only glimpses of Razin, too brief to get a clear shot. They heard two more shots from the other end of the bridge, followed by Vitali saying “Fuck!”
Reaching the end of the bridge, they saw Vitali on his knees, his face screwed up in pain, a hand clutching his leg. Laith was running along the river; he fired four shots.
“What happened?”
Vitali answered between clenched teeth. “It’s just a flesh wound, but it put me on my ass.”
“Okay, get to Roger. Markov, with me.”
Laith shouted in a near-breathless voice, “I’m moving east along the river’s north-side road. Can’t see him.”
Roger spoke, “I’ve abandoned my car and am also going east, checking the south bank.”
Korina said, “I’m on the north bank, about five hundred feet from your position. Six military trucks have just raced past me, heading toward the bridge.”
“Stay with your vehicle, Korina.” Will still needed at least one of his team to remain mobile.
“GRU! GRU!”
Will glanced toward Roger’s location on the south bank. “What’s happening?”
Silence.
“What’s happening?”
More silence.
Then gunfire.
“I’m”-Roger was screaming over the sound of rapid shots-“under attack! Cops and soldiers.”
Will saw flashes of light on the south bank; the noise of gunfire in his earpiece was now constant.
Korina shouted, “I can get mobile, drive ahead to find a turning place, then try to pick you up.”
“No!”
Vitali said, “I’m with Roger, we’re being pushed east.”
Will urgently looked ahead. He was sprinting as fast as he could, but he’d no idea if he was still on Razin’s trail. “Laith. Anything? I have no visual. Repeat, no visual!”
“Nothing.”
They’d lost him.
Frustration surged through Will. “Fuck! Fuck!” He continued running. “Laith, Markov: get across the next bridge and extract Roger and Vitali.”
“You can’t go after him on your own.”
“Just do it!”
Markov moved away from Will’s side and took the next river crossing. Moments later, Laith appeared on the bridge running at full pace, his gun held in one hand.
Will kept moving along the road.
Ten seconds later, Markov shouted, “We’re heading southeast on Sadovnicheskaya Ulitsa!”
Laith spoke. “Vitali, Roger: we’re on the south side of the river now. We should be close to you.”
Roger spoke over the sound of rifle shots and bursts of submachine-gun fire. “We’ve got about a hundred soldiers on our tail.” His words were strained; clearly he was in pain.
More heavy gunfire.
Laith shouted, “We can see you! You’re coming right toward us!”
Will stopped at a crossroad, frantically looking in every direction. This was hopeless. Razin had vanished.
“William.” Korina’s voice was full of despair. “Should I go to the team?”
Laith said, “We’re all together now. There’s too many of them. William, we’re going to draw them away from you by taking them south on Novokuznetskaya Ulitsa.”
Will cursed and continued running, keeping the river by his side.
“Changing magazines.” Roger was clearly running. “Last clip in. I’ll cover you all. Run behind me for twenty, then cover me while I move back.”
A few seconds later, Vitali shouted, “In position and covering you. Move!”
“Two more hostiles down, now three.” Laith spoke over the sound of three shots from his handgun.
Markov cursed. “More sirens, reinforcements.”
“Low on ammunition… last clip.” This was from Vitali.
Will stopped, his stomach sick with failure. “I’ve lost him. I’m coming to you.”
Roger responded immediately, “Get to Korina. Get out of the city.”
Will repeated, “I’m coming to you.”
“No, you’re damn well not! We’re surrounded on all sides now. You’d make no difference.”
Will pulled out his handgun. “Tell me your location. I’m coming for you.”
“No.”
“Tell me your location!”
Roger made a sound like a sigh; more shots rang out. “We’re on Novokuznetskaya Ulitsa. It’s about half a mile south of the bridge where Taras killed the sailor. But for God’s sake, don’t come”-rapid bursts of fire interrupted him-“stay away.”
Will moved onto the next bridge, ran across it, and headed south toward the gunfight. He ran along residential streets, commercial routes, and roads containing administrative buildings. Compacted snow covered the roads and sidewalks, and pedestrians cowered in doorways, hiding from the gun battle that was taking place farther ahead. Some of them stared at Will as he ran past them, making no effort to hide his handgun. The civilians looked terrified.
Will did not need a detailed knowledge of the city to know where he was going. He just followed the noise of the battle. “I’m very close now. When I see the hostiles, I’ll open fire and try to draw some of them away from you.”
“There’s too many of them.” Laith sounded exasperated. “We’re pinned down on all sides.”
The sounds of gunfire were now very close. Will slowed down as he approached the turning into Novokuznetskaya Ulitsa. Reaching the entrance to the street, he stopped and crouched next to a building. The place was swarming with troops and police, most using the cover of doorways and vehicles to fire at his team. Halfway along the street, he saw glimpses of the four-man CIA-GRU unit. They were about 250 feet away and were using whatever cover they could to return fire. Beyond them, more soldiers.
Will pulled away from the street, desperately trying to work out what to do. Even if he fired shots at them, he would draw only a few of the two hundred or so troops toward him. Roger was right. The situation was hopeless. He glanced again into the street containing the soldiers and his team. He spoke to his men. “I’m sorry. Stop fighting. We’ve failed. Surrender to them.”
There was silence for a while.
Then Roger spoke to his comrades. “Switch your comms systems to any other channel and smash the kit so that they can’t monitor William and Korina. No matter what the soldiers do to you, keep your mouths shut.”
A few more seconds passed before Markov shouted out words in Russian. Then he walked out of a doorway, his hands placed on his head. Laith appeared from another doorway and tossed his handgun onto the street. Roger moved into view from behind a vehicle, his arms outstretched, his palms facing the soldiers, blood dripping from one of the limbs. Vitali came to his side, arms high in the air, and shouted more words at the soldiers. The troops and police moved close to the four men; all of them had their weapons pointed at the team. One of the cops barked instructions at them. Roger got to his knees; then the rest of the team followed suit. The troops rushed forward. As they did so, Roger looked toward Will and smiled.
The police and soldiers grabbed the men, wrenched their arms behind their backs, and placed plastic handcuffs on each of them. A soldier smashed the butt of his rifle into Laith’s head, causing the CIA officer to crash back to the ground, his head now a bloody mess. Another jabbed the muzzle of his gun into Markov’s gut, forcing the Spetsnaz operative to double over and vomit. A police officer wearing captain tabs stepped forward, shouting at the soldiers, clearly berating them for their brutality. Some of the troops and cops grabbed the team and yanked them to their feet. At the far end of the street, a four-ton military truck pulled up. The captain pointed at it and shouted orders. Will’s team was slowly walked toward it, hands gripping them, the rest of the army and police units continuing to point their weapons at the joint Russian-American intelligence unit. As they were placed into the back of the truck, Will looked at his men one last time, knowing that they would be imprisoned, brutally tortured, and executed.
He turned away from the street, feeling sick, and more than anything wishing it was himself rather than his team who had been caught. Secreting his gun, he turned and walked. His face smarted from the bullet wound, but he didn’t care.
Snow fell faster. The air grew colder. He passed pedestrians who were now reemerging onto the streets and were calling to one another, ignoring him and pointing in the direction of Novokuznetskaya Ulitsa. Men, women, children, old and young.
He heard Korina’s voice in his earpiece, telling him where she was, telling him what to do. With every step he took toward her location, his stomach tightened and cramped.
He had one remaining option to capture Razin. But the thought of taking it repulsed him.