by C. G. Cooper
He’d done as told, all while the other boys stared, finally yelled at by instructors who tried to hide their own disgust.
And that was how Alek felt: disgusted. Disgusted in what he’d done. By the gore and the carnage. Disgusted in himself for breaking, letting the devil out into the world. That was not him. His was a calm soul. His mother had said so on many occasions. How he wished for her then. Most surprising, he was disgusted with his mentor. Orlov said it was time to meet the others. But if the others were anything like Orlov, Alek wasn’t sure he could, or even should.
As the miles stretched by, the anger subsided and he came out of his self-imposed seclusion, despite the fact that he’d been in a car sitting next to Orlov the whole time. Silent. Not even the radio to break the strain.
“Why did I do that?” Alek asked.
“You didn’t want to kill him?”
“I did. At least in the moment. He was going to kill me. I could see it in his eyes.”
Orlov nodded approval of his pupil’s deduction. “But you wonder why it happened, why I told you to fight him.”
“Yes. I want to know.”
Orlov pulled the car between two plowed sections of snow at least a story high. He turned to Alek. “The boy’s father is General Kuznetsov. He is a high-ranking member of the Soviet Army. The son was much like the father. Both bullies. Both racists. Both willing to do anything to rise in power. Would you like to know what the general told his son to do?”
Alek didn’t have any idea. He’d never met a general. He’d seen one once, in a parade in Moscow. But that old peacock looked like a relic of the last century.
“What did he tell his son?”
“First, I’ll tell you what General Kuznetsov’s command included. Upon his personal request, he was given Belarus.”
“But Belarus is free.”
Orlov shook his head. “We’re as free as the Soviets allow us to be. And now, we’re as free as General Kuznetsov wants us to be.”
“I don’t understand. Why Belarus? Is it not a general’s job to wage war?”
“For some generals, it is. But this general, he has a special place in his heart for Belarus. He was embarrassed as a young man. A minor battle that should’ve been an easy victory turned into his first defeat. He lost an entire platoon to a village of peasants. It took him many years to rewrite his history. But we did not forget. Now, this general worked hard, tirelessly, to clear his name and rise through the ranks. When it was time, he went back to Belarus. He is there now.” Orlov smiled, like it was just what he wanted. Then he went on. “But that means nothing to you now. Not yet. What matters to you is that you killed a man, a bully. What if I told you that General Kuznetsov’s son told his father about a certain boy from Belarus, a ski prodigy who’d been taken from training by a strange man with blonde hair?”
“He told the general about me?”
“He did. What you must understand is a father’s love for his only son knows no bounds. Not when you’re a man like the general.” Now Orlov sighed, gripping the wheel like he might wrench it from the steering column. “General Kuznetsov told his son to kill you, Alek. That is why. Do you understand now?”
Alek didn’t fully comprehend. But there would be time for figuring it out. For one, he had one question that kept bubbling to the surface. “And the general? What happens to him?”
Orlov looked truly pleased. He patted Alek on the leg. “That will be our next adventure, Young Wolf.”
It had taken them a year, but they’d finally trapped him. There he lay, trussed like a sow.
General Kuznetsov mumbled something behind the gag. He’d made quite a name for himself in Belarus. Hundreds disappeared. Children taken from parents. Parents accused as spies. Secret interrogation houses hiding subterranean dens of horror.
“Do it,” Orlov said softly, handing the pistol to Alek.
Alek turned it left and right, marveling that such a small thing could wipe the smear of such scum from the Earth forever.
The sight came down on Kuznetsov’s head. Right between the eyes.
“Good night,” Alek said, and pulled the trigger.
He was pleased to see that his hand did not shake. And he handed the gun back to Orlov, who stowed it in his back pocket.
“Come. Now you can meet the others. They will be so happy to finally see you.” Orlov wrapped an arm around his friend and they walked that way for some time.
Once again, the life of Aleksandr Volkov evolved. His nationality of birth was wiped from existence. For the world to see he was now a Soviet destined for the Olympics. The perfect hero. The perfect mole. And the man who would tear the great monster apart from the inside out.
Chapter One Hundred
VOLKOV — CABO SAN LUCAS, MEXICO — 1988
Cancer nabbed his friend where countless Russians spies could not. They’d blazed a Belarusian trail straight to Moscow. And how glorious it had been. Together there was nothing they could not accomplish. Even Olympic medals came into their grasp, a fun consolation prize along the way.
He didn’t know his mentor’s true age until the real bad news came. A death sentence at 45.
“Don’t mourn for me, Young Wolf. There is still much to do. Remember what I’ve told you. Remember what you’ve seen. You will take my place and that will be that.”
The doctor in Moscow gave him six months to live. When they snuck into Canada for a second opinion, that doctor said three months. The American physician hiding in Mexico gave him one.
“And there it is,” Orlov had said at the end, gazing out over the Pacific Ocean and the gold-lined sunset. “My fight is done.”
He’d walked away then. It was the last time Alek saw his dear friend. Ten years together and then nothing. His true father gone.
He gazed over that same ocean and a sunset not unlike Orlov’s last. “Until we see each other again, my friend,” Alek whispered to the sea breeze, hoping that Orlov was looking down on him now, smiling as he once had.
With a final nod, he stepped off the sand and into the waiting taxi.
“To the airport,” he said, not taking his eyes from the majesty of the fading sun, a celestial toast for good luck from his old friend.
Chapter One Hundred One
STOKES — THE YUKON, CANADA — PRESENT DAY
The door slammed shut behind him, the wind raging, the weather howling toward whiteout.
“We should’ve gotten a place with an inside bathroom,” Cal said, his comment a grumble as he tossed the parka on the single bed.
Diane was sitting at the makeshift computer station and didn’t look up from her work when she replied. “You make it sound like we’re not in Shangri La. Why, if it weren’t for your constant groaning, I’d bet it could be paradise.”
He bent down and kissed her on top of the head. She gave him a good-natured smack on the butt as he passed.
Things were progressing with Diane, and as much as he knew his life couldn’t afford distractions at the moment, Cal found himself settling in like it was in the cards all along.
“Anything new from Wilcox?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Sounds like his cargo isn’t talking. Wilcox tried.”
Time was tight. You can’t kidnap a man like the President of Russia and keep it under the radar forever. But Cal had a plan for that, one he hoped would work. Wilcox had tried his patience already, but Cal wasn’t going to send anyone else on the suicide mission. He’d given the assassin a one-in-seven shot of even getting close to the Russian. For him to have pulled off the heist without killing anyone was a miracle of epic proportions.
“Where’s Snake Eyes?” Cal asked, stretching out on the itchy blanket. He was immediately sorry that he did. It smelled like three decades of wet dog.
“He took Liberty for a walk.”
“A walk? In this?” He pointed to the window where snow was starting to accumulate on the ledge.
“That’s Daniel,” she said with a shrug, and then went back to her
work. Cal looked out the window and wondered what it would take to bring his friend in from the cold.
Chapter One Hundred Two
BRIGGS — YUKON
He couldn’t shake it, the feeling he’d learned to trust. Liberty whined at his side.
“I know, girl, I feel it too.”
He looked out over the hills, squinting in vain through the falling snow. In another time and place he might’ve sat down and marveled at nature’s beauty. Today, he could find no such peace.
Man and beast walked on, sniffing the wind, scanning every hillock, taking in every sensation. Nothing. No movement other than the windblown snow. And yet the feeling remained.
Daniel searched inward and called quietly to the beast sleeping inside him.
Chapter One Hundred Three
LENA — YUKON
She was plenty warm under her layers. She’d planned for the worst, as her teachers had taught. But the snow posed a problem. Yes, it would further obscure her hideout. Not that they could see her now. But the weather started to cover the tiny window she’d watched for days. She’d only gotten the quickest glimpse of her quarry, and was thinking of moving to a new location, somewhere with a wider view.
She couldn’t. Her father had been quite specific. This spot for this shot. When asked why he said it provided the quickest getaway. It did.
Still, the doubts crept in. Icy isolation wasn’t helping.
Finally, when the window was near half-covered, she made her decision. It was time to move. No way to help her father here. The target was the most important thing. Take him out. Or at least that’s what Lena kept trying to convince herself.
Chapter One Hundred Four
BRIGGS — YUKON
It was only the tiniest of movement. He had to stand still for ten minutes to see it again. Any other man wouldn’t have had the patience. But this was Daniel Briggs, his soul honed from battle and waiting alike.
There it was again, like the slide of a sheet of snow across the landscape.
Liberty didn’t have to be told. She felt him move. They took the long way around to get a better look.
It might be nothing. Or it might be something. Only one way to find out.
Chapter One Hundred Five
LENA — YUKON
Inch by inch she moved at first. Better to be cautious than dead, that’s what Terry Shamblin had said. He told her the story about a time in Iraq when he successfully killed a militia leader. In his exuberance he was ready to go, do his debrief with higher headquarters and then get some shut-eye.
No sooner had he stood up, in a darkened room in the third-story back room of a derelict house, than in blasted the sniper’s round. He got lucky. The helmet on the end of his rifle took the blow and rattled his nerves to the core.
She remembered that story now, imagining a sniper in the distance, tracking her every move. If only she’d looked east a moment before, she might’ve seen a man disappear behind a tangle of scrub. Lena kept moving—careful, easy, slow. Just like the Marines had taught her.
Chapter One Hundred Six
ZIMMER — AIR FORCE ONE, SOMEWHERE OVER CANADA
The goodies given by the Canadian delegation littered the president’s desk. The prime minister hadn’t asked for anything, but Zimmer felt the buttering up, nonetheless. He’d once liked that part of the job, people coming to him for favors. Now he saw it much like his friend Cal did. It was politics, a game that reached back centuries and would keep on running until the world was gone.
It was human nature really, a chance for the lucky few to grab power and hold onto it for as long as they could. Zimmer knew of only a handful that did it for the right reason—to truly serve the people. He liked them, no matter the political side. At least they were honest. They didn’t do it for money. They served their constituents and that was it. A first-term Republican from Tennessee came to mind. He had his quirks but let no man or woman say that he had tricks up his sleeve.
Zimmer took one last bite of his lunch and wondered what it would be like to be a congressman again. He’d frittered that time away, not having fully appreciated it. He’d been young and dumb, and there was no turning back the clock. He couldn’t help but dream though. What might the world’s news outlets say if he ditched his re-election campaign and ran for Congress instead?
“You seem pleased with yourself,” Haines said, looking over her reading glasses at him. “Did the Canadian prime minister tell you something a lady’s ears shouldn’t hear?”
Zimmer snorted. “Nothing like that. I was thinking about running for Congress. You know, relive the glory days. Rail against the White House. What do you think?”
“You want a real answer, or are we playing a game?”
“It was supposed to be funny.”
“Ha, ha. Happy?”
But he saw the amusement in her eyes. He noticed so much more about her every move these days. The way she took her reading glasses off with two fingers. The way she brushed through a crowd without leaving a mark. The way she looked at him like she was taking notes for a portrait.
Get yourself together, Mr. President.
“Happy? Sure.”
The temporary joy diminished when his National Security Advisor entered the room.
“Sir, we have a development.”
“Syria or North Korea?” Zimmer asked.
The cabinet member, who’d just left a private think tank to join the team, gave Haines an uncomfortable look.
“Mr. President, we’ve just received word that the Russians are sending assets to the Arctic.”
“Is this about their mobile nuclear reactor?”
“No, sir. From what we’ve been able to gather, and this hasn’t been verified officially, they’re looking for something.”
A chill ran up Zimmer’s back. “What are they looking for?”
For his first official act as the president’s National Security Advisor, the man’s delivery didn’t disappoint. “Sir, it seems that they’ve lost Yegorovich.”
Chapter One Hundred Seven
STOKES — YUKON
“It’s getting bad out there,” Cal said, not so fresh from his nap.
“If you’re worried about Daniel, don’t be. You could drop him at the North Pole in a Speedo and the guy would survive.”
“Fair enough.”
Cal stood and was about to go through a light stretching routine when his phone jingled. Not the best timing for this caller, but no avoiding it.
“Cal can’t come to the phone right now. He’s busy doing yoga to keep his aging body limber. Please leave your name and—”
“Where are you?” Brandon asked, brushing right past the pleasantries.
“On location for a Sports Illustrated photo shoot. Why?”
Based on their recent history with tapped lines, Cal was wary of sharing anything over a call to Air Force One.
Brandon didn’t immediately answer. Cal wondered if that was because of the connection.
Brandon’s voice came back, clear as a crystal. “There’s a rumor that one of your new friends is lost.”
Shit. No way they could know. Neil was monitoring all traffic coming in or out of the Russian ship.
“You’ll have to be more specific. I have a lot of friends.”
Diane was listening now.
“The friend you met at Ike’s house.”
Camp David. Shit. He knew. Better to be frank.
“He’s fine, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“So he’s with you?”
“Not yet.”
“Cal, I thought we were through with the lies. You promised me—”
“He’s hiding something.” Cal caught himself from saying more. “Look, we’ve got it handled. Just let me get what I need, and he’ll be on his way before it becomes a thing.”
“Where are you?”
Cal told him. There was some muffled chatter that Cal couldn’t understand, then the president came back on the line.
&n
bsp; “We’ll be there in one hour.”
“Wait. I said we’ve got it handled. I’ll let you know—”
Brandon’s voice was all steel when it came over the line now. “What you will do now, Cal, is keep your friend safe, and sit right there until I land.”
“Brandon, I don’t know if that’s a great idea. The weather—”
“I don’t care about what you think and I sure as hell don’t care about the weather. Now, do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good.”
The line went dead and Cal couldn’t help his head from drooping. So much for bold moves.
“Well?” said Diane. “What did he say?”
Cal exhaled and lay back on the squeaky cat piss cot. “Get the fire stoked, honey. Daddy’s coming to dinner.”
Chapter One Hundred Eight
LENA — YUKON
There. She made it to enough cover that she could stand and stretch her legs. She stomped out the tingles and waited for her head to clear. A couple of minutes and she’d move to her new position. She still had a partial view of the only road coming in or out. The place was so remote that access was either by four-wheel-drive vehicle, plane, helicopter, or drop-in miles away and hike in by foot like she’d done.
With plenty of provisions left, she’d also stocked a stash not far away, Lena could stay on target for almost another week. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take that long.
Time to get to it. The small reprieve buoyed her. She had time. And she was patient.
Chapter One Hundred Nine