The sedan drove east across the snow-covered Ukraine, covering four hundred miles, keeping the Black Sea and later the Sea of Azov to its right. Will sat in the back with Sentinel. A young Ukrainian man named Oleksandr was in the driver’s seat. None of the men spoke during the journey.
It was night as the car reached the brightly illuminated industrial port city of Mariupol before traveling northeast for a further 180 miles. After fifteen hours of near-continuous driving since leaving Odessa, stopping only twice to refuel the vehicle, Oleksandr brought the car to a halt on a dimly lit deserted road, turned off its engine and lights, and pointed ahead into darkness. “Russia.”
Sentinel opened a door, stretched, and got out. Will and Oleksandr followed suit, with the Ukrainian moving to the back of the vehicle to open the trunk. Snow fell fast around them. From within a rucksack, Oleksandr withdrew two HS 2000 handguns and spare magazines, then handed the items to the MI6 officers, who secreted the pistols and ammunition in their jackets.
The driver pulled up the collar of his thick coat and thrust his hands into his pockets. Light from an adjacent streetlamp showed that the man looked exhausted and cold. He glanced at Will. “Have you done this crossing before?”
“He hasn’t.” Sentinel looked in the direction of Russia.
Oleksandr nodded. “Normally it’s easy. There’re no barriers, just open fields covering the border, and the Ukrainian State Border Guard Service has been undermanned and underequipped to cover the thousands of miles of its borders. They’ve averaged one guard per twenty miles. On the other side, the Russians have faced the same problem.” He looked at Sentinel. “Things have changed. The Russians and Ukrainians have recently strengthened their border, reinforced their guards, and equipped them with thermal and infrared surveillance and detection technology. They’re worried about illegal immigrants coming over the border from Russia.” Reaching back into the trunk of the car, he withdrew two IR/TG-7 thermal goggles with head straps. “These should help. But you’ll still have to be very careful.”
Sentinel looked at Oleksandr. “After five miles, pull over somewhere quiet and get some sleep for a few hours. Wait for us there.”
He nodded, rubbing his fatigued face. “Sure, boss.”
Sentinel gave a sympathetic smile while gripping the young Ukrainian’s shoulder. “Give my regards to your brother and uncle, and tell your mother that I will give her more cash for her husband’s funeral when I’m back.”
Oleksandr bristled. “My father would have wanted to be here with you now.” He spat on the ground. “Fucking FSB. They should’ve arrested him when they trapped him in Moscow, not shot him like a dog.”
Sentinel nodded slowly. “I was privileged to work with him.”
“Bless you, boss.” Oleksandr sighed, reached into a jacket pocket, and withdrew a small slim metal case. “Please give this to Polina. Twenty cigarettes, hand-rolled by my mother, containing her favorite sun-cured Ottoman tobacco.” He gave the case to Sentinel. “We didn’t have time to make more.”
Sentinel secreted it within an inner jacket pocket. “She’ll be very grateful.”
Oleksandr wrapped his arms over his chest and glanced toward Russia. “Come home safely, boss.”
“The border’s five miles away; we’ve got to get there while it’s still dark. Let’s go.”
W ill strapped his thermal goggles onto his head and looked around. Even though there were no light sources, his TG-7 gave him perfect black-and-white vision of everything up to a range of three hundred yards. He and Sentinel were prone on the ground; the flat, open fields before them held no trees or other large features. It was still snowing. They were a mile from the border.
They stayed like that for ten minutes; then Sentinel slowly rose to a crouch, gripped his handgun, and moved quickly forward. After three hundred feet he stopped, dropped to the ground, and waited before beckoning to Will. Will moved fast but kept low, holding his gun ready to shoot. He reached Sentinel, lay flat on the ground next to him, looked around, saw nothing, and glanced at his colleague. Sentinel nodded, pointing ahead. Will got to his feet and sprinted forward for five hundred feet, the whole time glancing left and right and ahead. He reached the edge of the field, keeping his head below the low hedge. Another field was before him, but this one was much larger. Lifting his arm up, he waved Sentinel to join him.
When Sentinel reached him, he knelt on one knee, moving his head 180 degrees to examine everything before them. Then he jumped over the hedge and ran until he was approximately 250 yards in front of Will, before stopping. Will stayed still, focusing on only the white image of Sentinel. The MI6 man was flat on the ground, motionless. He stayed like that for nearly ten minutes. Will knew that something was wrong.
Sentinel raised a hand, gesturing for Will to come forward but stay low. Will moved, gripping his gun with both hands, running as fast as he could in his crouch stance, watching Sentinel the entire time. As he came to within 150 feet of the officer, Sentinel waved a hand downward. Will dived forward, thumping to the ground. He stayed still for several minutes, his eyes fixed on Sentinel and his surroundings. Sentinel moved his hand. Will leopard-crawled over the snow-covered ground between him and Sentinel.
Sentinel lay motionless, silent and staring ahead. Will followed his gaze. Five hundred feet ahead of them were two soldiers, both carrying assault rifles. One of the men was looking through binoculars.
Sentinel crawled right up to Will, cupped his hands around Will’s ear, and whispered, “Ukrainian border guards. The man on the right has got thermal imagery, but he’s not seen me, so the binoculars must have limited range. We’ll take a route around them.”
Will nodded as Sentinel moved away from him. The guard with the binoculars was rotating, then standing still for a few seconds before moving again. He was covering his entire surroundings but most likely was blind to anything beyond 150 yards from his position. The other soldier was still, gripping his rifle. Will rose carefully and moved back fifty feet. Sentinel did the same. Keeping his upper body low, Will ran to his left, examining the route ahead of him as he did so. Sentinel was directly behind him, and Will knew that he would not be looking ahead but instead would be watching the soldiers for signs that they had spotted the MI6 officers.
After a quarter mile, Will adjusted direction so that he was running back toward the border but was far enough away from the two soldiers to remain out of their sight. To his right he could just make out the men; they were still stationary. He looked ahead and stopped abruptly, dropping to the ground. Two other soldiers were 150 yards away from him, sideways to his position. Both were on one knee; one was looking through a large rifle scope across the route directly in front of them, the other had his back to his colleague and was looking through his rifle scope in the other direction.
Sentinel crawled alongside Will. The man said nothing for a moment, but Will knew he would be thinking the same as him. The soldiers were also Ukrainian border guards. But these men looked as though they had very powerful night-vision equipment, and they were positioned in such a way to monitor at least a half mile of land on either side of them. The soldiers were motionless, not looking in their direction.
Sentinel again cupped his hands against Will’s head. “It’ll soon be daylight. Follow me, move fast.”
A foot of snow already covered the ground, and more was quickly falling. They jumped to their feet and ran parallel to the guards. A further ten minutes and Sentinel stopped again, grabbing Will’s arm and pulling him down. Both men were breathing hard. Sentinel glanced in the direction that they had come from before looking at Will. “I’m sure they can’t see us now.”
Sentinel swiveled to face Russia and walked fast, with Will close behind. It was clear that he knew exactly where he was going and was choosing his route with precision. Occasionally he would stop, motion to Will to do the same, look around, and move a few paces to his right or left before continuing. After two miles, he slowed, then stopped. The land around them was now undulating and forested.
“Welcome to Russia.”
They moved toward an area of dense trees. Will was glad of their protection, though he continued to scrutinize his surroundings for hidden soldiers. A further twenty minutes and the trees thinned out. Will removed his night-vision equipment and looked around. The first signs of daylight were beginning to break into the forest, although it was still dark at ground level. He was about to move when he heard noises ahead of him. They were distant at first, but they quickly became recognizable.
“Dogs!” Sentinel looked around urgently.
The encroaching dogs meant that armed soldiers were close by. Will hoped that the dogs had not been unleashed, because they’d be spotted. But he knew that if he shot them, the border guards would be put on alert and their chances of getting back into the Ukraine much slimmer.
He saw them. There were two large German shepherds, and the first was fifty feet in front of the other. They were barking as they ran down a narrow route of open ground. They had clearly detected the MI6 officers. Will ran forward, crouched, and waited. The nearest dog was now 150 feet away.
Four seconds passed.
Suddenly the dog was just a few feet from him, jumping through the air with its mouth wide open.
Will dived at the airborne dog, wrapped an arm around its neck, squeezed tight while twisting his body against the dog’s, and crashed to the ground. The dog was limp beneath him, its neck snapped. But he was totally vulnerable as the second dog launched its powerful body at him.
Sentinel stepped forward and punched the dog full force on the side of the head. Walking up to where it lay dazed, he stamped a boot onto its throat and held it there until the writhing creature had stopped breathing.
Both began covering the dogs with snow until the animals were hidden. They crept ahead along the track, which soon forked. They stopped, listened, and waited before taking the track on the left. The track forked again; this time they moved right. There was movement ahead. Crouching down, they sidestepped into foliage. Two soldiers were on the path two hundred feet ahead of them, coming slowly toward their position. They carried flashlights that they held alongside their assault rifles. They had not yet seen the MI6 officers. Moving farther into the foliage, Will and Sentinel lay carefully on the ground. The soldiers were silent, but Will caught glimpses of them between the snow-covered leaves around him. He placed his finger over the trigger of his handgun as the men came to within thirty feet of his position. They kept moving until they were right by his side. Will held his breath, remaining motionless. The men moved past him. They were almost certainly the dog handlers and were no doubt searching for the “immigrants” their dogs had detected.
When they were out of sight, Will and Sentinel continued deeper into the forest until they reached a small road. Will looked right and saw nothing. He looked left and saw a truck. It was two hundred feet away, and beside it were three soldiers and two more dogs on leashes. All of the soldiers were smoking. The heads of the dogs were twitching left and right.
They walked away from the patrol, keeping the road on their left, until trees obstructed their view of the soldiers. Crossing the road, they entered more forest.
Sentinel grabbed Will’s arm. “They don’t patrol this far away from the border. But stay alert.”
They ran and walked for an hour, moving through forest and open fields, close to snow-covered vehicle tracks, over roads, through more woods and more open ground. Sentinel led the way, constantly changing direction, constantly looking around to check that they weren’t being watched, always choosing routes that gave them cover when it was available.
When they stopped, it was full daylight. More open farmland was around them.
Sentinel’s breathing was fast. “We’re close.”
Will followed his colleague, who now walked carefully ahead. They moved across more fields until they came to a six-bar gate. Beyond the gate was a vehicle track, and in the distance was a solitary farmhouse.
Sentinel moved to one side of the gate and knelt down. “That building’s the safe house. We’ve made up time and are on schedule. The meeting’s not due for another three hours.”
They stayed like that for thirty minutes. Will heard the sound of a vehicle. Moving his head slowly out of his secreted position, he glanced down the track. A pickup was moving along the route, coming toward them. It passed the house, kept driving, and stopped 500 feet away from the building and 150 feet from their position. Will darted a look at Sentinel and saw that he was looking intently at the vehicle. Will glanced back at the truck. A small woman got out. She was dressed in thick dark clothes and wore a head scarf that hid her features, but judging by her posture and movements she was very old. The woman leaned back into the truck and flashed its headlights six times.
Sentinel instantly jumped over the fence. Will followed. They ran along the track and slowed as they approached the vehicle. Sentinel’s gun was raised, but he was not pointing it at the woman; instead he was aiming it at the road beyond. The woman removed her scarf and walked toward Sentinel. She must have been at least seventy-five years old, maybe older.
She smiled and spoke in Russian. “My angel.”
Sentinel lowered his weapon, walked up to the woman, hugged her, and responded in her language, “Polina. I shouldn’t have asked you to come out in this weather.”
Polina shrugged. “I have to unlock the house and get it ready for you.” She rubbed her frail hands against Sentinel’s forearms. “I’ve bought some food for the freezer. Even though I don’t live there anymore, I keep it stocked for your meetings. Would you like me to make you some nice shchi? The hot soup will do you good.”
Sentinel smiled, shaking his head. “You need to be heading home in ten minutes.” He extracted the slim metal case and handed it to the woman. “Oleksandr’s mother made these for you. My Ukrainian friends send you their love.”
Polina took the case, smiling. Then her smile faded. “Please tell them that I’m sorry for their loss. Juriy was a great soldier.” She looked at Will. “Some of us here might live to old age, but in these parts few of us die from it.”
Will saw that the sleeve on one of her arms had risen up to expose an inch of badly scarred skin on the underside of her forearm.
Polina caught his gaze and quickly pulled her sleeve down.
“I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s okay.” She glanced at Sentinel before looking back at Will. “I was nine years old when Majdanek extermination camp was liberated by Soviet soldiers. Some other survivors told me to run away or hide because I had a Nazi tattoo that showed I was a Jew. Instead, I sat in a hut and peeled off the skin with my fingernails until the tattoo was gone. When I finished, I thought everything would be all right.” She smiled, but the look was bitter. “I was a naive child. The Soviets knew that I’d tried to disguise my Jewish identity, and punished me by putting me in Kolyma gulag for fifteen years.” She looked at Sentinel and reached out to him.
Sentinel kissed the old Russian woman’s hand. “Next time I’ll stay longer and make you some soup.”
“I hope so.” She entered the vehicle, turned it around, and drove toward the farmhouse.
Sentinel said, “We need to stay out of the house until he arrives. Then we’ll shoot him and get back into Ukraine.”
Polina stopped the vehicle by the building, paused by the front door as she released the locks, and stepped through the entrance.
As she did so, a massive explosion tore her body and most of the house apart.