by Glenn Meade
“Did they say why they wanted them?”
“The man is armed and dangerous. An enemy agent. The woman’s Russian, probably traveling as his wife. It’s imperative they be stopped and arrested. They’ve already killed an army officer.”
The other man gave a low whistle. “You think it was that idiot on the bike?”
“Unlikely. That bumpkin wouldn’t know his backside from his elbow. I’ve seen the type before. Fourteen years in this game, and you get to read faces, Boris. He wasn’t a killer. Even my missus is a lot more dangerous after she’s had her quart of vodka.”
“Still, they could have been the couple. Maybe I should report it?”
The sergeant looked over at his colleague as if he were a complete idiot. “And have those guys from Central all over us asking questions?” The sergeant shook his head. “Besides, according to the exchange, half the bloody army, the KGB, and the militia are out looking for them. Every road around the city has been sealed off. Rest assured, they won’t get far, wherever they are.”
36
* * *
BALTIC HIGHWAY, LENINGRAD
As they came around a bend on the Baltic Highway, Slanski saw the string of red taillights up ahead. He pulled to the side of the road and turned off the headlight.
Alarmed, Anna asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Take a look.”
As cars swished past, Anna peered over Slanski’s shoulder. She could see several army and militia vehicles blocking the highway a hundred yards ahead, the taillights of a traffic jam glowing in the darkness. Men in uniforms milled around, checking drivers’ papers and climbing into trucks and cars. Traffic coming from the opposite direction looked as if it was receiving the same scrutiny.
Slanski said, “Whenever I get suspicious, I get a headache. And right now I’ve got a doozy. I’ll bet you a ruble it’s us they’re after.”
“What can we do?”
“There was a minor road a couple of miles back. Let’s try our chances there.”
He kicked the machine into gear and swung around. He left the lights off until they had gone a couple of hundred yards, and when they reached the minor road on the right he turned into it. The country road was covered in patches of slush, and Anna held on to him tightly as the freezing rush of air slashed at their faces.
They had driven another three miles when Slanski came around a sharp bend and they suddenly saw the blaze of lights up ahead. It was too late.
Two covered jeeps stood in their path. An army sergeant with a Kalashnikov and a militiaman wielding a rifle stood next to one of the jeeps, another young militiaman sitting in the front seat, manning a portable radio, his rifle resting across his knees. The officer in charge stood nearby, casually smoking a cigarette.
Slanski felt Anna’s arms tighten around his waist. He slowed the machine as the officer, a lieutenant, raised his hand for them to stop. Slanski brought the BMW to a halt but kept the engine running.
The lieutenant came forward and said loudly, “Turn off that light, and the engine.”
Slanski did as he was told. The lieutenant flashed a light in their faces. “Well, what have we got here? Two lovers out for a ride in the country?”
The men and the sergeant laughed. Slanski tried to assess the situation. Of the four men, the sergeant and the lieutenant looked capable enough, big and strong, their necks wider than their foreheads. But the two militiamen were barely out of their teens, and they fingered their rifles nervously.
The officer tossed his cigarette away and stared at them suspiciously. Slanski said calmly, “What’s the problem, comrade? You frightened the life out of us. I could have plowed into those jeeps of yours.”
The lieutenant looked at the motorcycle, then Anna. He said to Slanski, “Papers, both of you.”
Slanski handed over his papers, and Anna did the same. The lieutenant flashed the light from the papers to their faces. He didn’t hand them back but said, “Your destination?”
“Novgorod,” replied Slanski.
“That’s a long drive on a cold night like this. Your purpose?”
Slanski jerked a thumb back at Anna. “My wife’s mother is unwell. They don’t think the old woman is going to make it through the night. You know how it is, Lieutenant. My wife needs to see her before it’s too late.”
“Where have you come from?”
“Leningrad. You mind me asking what the heck is going on tonight? This is the second time we’ve been stopped on this road.”
The lieutenant hesitated. Slanski’s reply seemed to ease his tension, then he slowly handed back the papers. “We’re looking for two enemy agents. A man and a woman. They killed a KGB officer.”
Slanski whistled and looked suitably worried. “Will the road be all right from here on? I mean, I hope we’re not in any danger, comrade. My wife is distressed enough.”
The officer smiled. “I doubt you’ll be bothered. But if you do see anyone acting suspiciously, inform the nearest militia. You may proceed.”
“We’ll do that, comrade.” He glanced back at Anna. “Come, let’s do as the lieutenant says.” They mounted the BMW, but then the lieutenant said softly, “One moment.”
He stepped closer and shone the flashlight again in Slanski’s face. Then Anna’s. The light lingered on her. He asked suspiciously, “Where was the last checkpoint where you and your husband were stopped?”
The question seemed to hang in the air like a threat. When Anna hesitated, she felt Slanski’s body stiffen under her arms. She noticed the two militiamen tightening their grip on their rifles, taking the cue from the sergeant, who was readying his Kalashnikov.
The lieutenant continued to stare at Anna. “I asked you a question.”
“Two miles back. There was a car and two militiamen.”
The officer’s eyebrows rose. “We drove that way not half an hour ago. There wasn’t a checkpoint.” He turned smartly to the young militiaman manning the radio in the jeep and called out, “Kashinsky, call up central exchange. Ask them if they have a checkpoint where the woman says.”
The militiaman picked up the radio mike and began to talk into it.
Slanski said to the lieutenant, “Look, comrade, my wife is upset enough . . .”
“Relax, it won’t take long. If there’s a checkpoint back on the road then we’re wasting our time hanging around here.”
The militiaman in the jeep was talking away on the radio, but Slanski couldn’t hear the words, just a babble of static and crackle. Finally the militiaman in the jeep climbed out with his rifle, a look of alarm on his face, beginning to speak before he reached the lieutenant. “The woman’s lying! There’s no checkpoint on that part of the road!”
It happened quickly. As the officer reached for his pistol and the other men raised their weapons, Slanski flicked the switch on the handlebar and the headlight blazed into the darkness, blinding the men for an instant. He wrenched the Tokarev from his coat and shot the officer in the chest, then fired twice at the sergeant, hitting him in the throat and face and punching him back. He fired two quick shots at the young militiamen as they scurried for cover behind the jeep, then screamed back at Anna, “Hold on tight!”
He kicked the starter and the BMW revved wildly and roared forward, the front wheel lifting with the sudden burst of power, before he tore between a narrow gap in the jeeps.
• • •
Lukin was sitting at a table in the staff canteen eating a plateful of cabbage and pickled beef and potatoes, but he was barely tasting the food. A dozen or so officers and men sat around, eating and smoking during their break.
He had hardly taken a couple of mouthfuls when the adjutant burst in through the swinging doors. Lukin put down his fork and wiped his mouth as the adjutant strode over, carrying a map.
“Some news just in. A militia mobile patrol stopped a man and woman on a BMW motorcycle who resemble the ones we’re looking for. It happened on a minor road west of Pushkin, near the Baltic Highway, about three m
inutes ago. When the couple were challenged, the man produced a gun and killed a lieutenant and a sergeant. The other two militiamen managed to raise the alarm. Right now they’re pursuing the culprits in a jeep.”
Lukin jumped to his feet and grabbed the map and spread it on the table. “Show me where.”
The adjutant pointed to a spot on the map. “Here. About twenty miles away. By fast car, maybe half an hour if the roads are not bad. But it’s going to be difficult to catch up with a motorbike, and they’ve got a head start. I’ve told the exchange the details and ordered six other patrols in the area be alerted. Several are moving to surround the region right now. Maybe if we can fence them in we’ve got a chance. Make them go around in decreasing circles until we’ve cornered them like rats.”
Lukin grabbed the map and his pistol and holster and said, “Get my car. You have two motorcycle outriders ready?”
“Ready and waiting in the basement garage, along with your driver . . .”
Lukin was already moving toward the door like a man possessed, shouting back over his shoulder at the adjutant. “You man the radios here. I want to be kept in touch at all times!”
• • •
Slanski was sweating as Anna clung to him, and the BMW roared along the dark, narrow country road. He was doing forty miles an hour, taking corners as fast as he dared, skidding dangerously each time he tore around bends.
Anna shouted, “Slow down, or you’ll kill us both!”
“Those two militia are going to radio in what happened!” Slanski roared back. “We have to get away from here fast!”
At the next bend he didn’t heed her warning, and as the motorbike rounded the sharp curve he felt the wheels start to go from under him and suddenly the bike skidded on a patch of slush. There was a screech of rubber and they careened across the road into a ditch, Slanski ending up on top of the revving motorbike, Anna flung off and landing in some bushes.
Slanski swore and struggled free, the engine still running. “Curse it!” He switched off the engine and went to help her. “Are you all right?”
She took his outstretched hand and he pulled her out of the ditch. “I . . .I think so . . .I don’t know.”
The BMW’s headlight was still working, and Slanski saw that there was a deep cut on her forehead. Her clothes were covered in slush and bramble, and her hands were scratched. He wiped her face with her headscarf and then tied it around her bloodied forehead. “It’ll have to do for now, I’m afraid.”
“What about the motorbike?”
“I’ll have a look.”
As he went to retrieve the bike he looked back and saw a blaze of headlights approaching at high speed behind them on the road. “The militia must have followed us or alerted another patrol.”
Slanski quickly righted the BMW and checked it as best he could. There didn’t appear to be any real damage, but the front wheel was tangled with grass and bramble. He went to work frantically tearing it away, and then he mounted the machine and kicked the starter arm. The engine made a sputtering sound and died.
“No!”
“Try it again!”
He did. It sounded the same.
They both looked back. The headlights were coming closer, moving rapidly. Slanski took out his pistol and handed it to Anna. “If they get close enough, try to shoot out their headlights.”
He tried to start the BMW once more, but the engine died again. “This isn’t our day!”
Suddenly Anna pointed and cried, “Look!”
Coming in the other direction along the road Slanski saw a convoy of lights, perhaps three vehicles in all, maybe a quarter mile away or less. He turned back, sweat on his face.
Across the road up ahead, twenty yards away, was a gate leading into a field covered in snow. It led down a long slope into darkness. He pointed to the gate and shouted to Anna, “Open it!”
“What?”
“The gate—open it—quickly!”
Anna ran across the road and went to push the gate open. It refused to budge. She tried again. It was stuck hard.
Slanski ran over to her and kicked at the gate, hammering at it madly until it burst open. He said to her, “Stay there!” He ran back to the BMW, climbed on, and with all his weight kicked the starter arm with terrific force, and the engine thundered at last.
The convoy was almost on top of them, but at that moment they heard the roar of an engine from the other direction, as a covered jeep came around the corner and skidded to a halt.
Slanski drove toward Anna at the gate as they were caught in the sudden glare of the jeep’s headlights.
Suddenly from both directions there were blasts of gunfire, bullets kicking up snow and stitching across the road as voices barked orders and vehicles screeched to a halt, men jumping out of cars and trucks.
Slanski grabbed Anna’s arm and pulled her onto the bike, revved the engine, and they tore through the open gate into the field and down the slope, as bursts of rifle and machine-gun fire crackled behind them.
• • •
Lukin’s heart was pounding. The wail of the siren screamed into the night as the Zis ate up the road, the driver working hard to keep the big car from skidding.
They had already covered twenty miles in twenty minutes, the two militia motorbike riders in helmets and goggles on either side of the car racing ahead every now and then to clear traffic in the way. As they sped through a country village the radio crackled, and Lukin picked up the hand mike. “Lukin.”
The adjutant’s voice came back. “Base here, sir. We ran into them again. The same country road four miles east.”
“What happened?” Lukin asked urgently.
“They’re still on the motorbike. When the patrols caught up with them they drove into a field and disappeared.”
“Don’t lose them!” Lukin roared into the mike. “Cut them off!”
“We’re doing that, sir. The patrols have gone after them on foot. According to one of the militia, the field runs down to a valley and a stretch of forest. Four minor dirt roads leading in and out. I’m having them all covered as we speak.”
“Whatever you do, don’t let them escape! I’m on my way.” Lukin dropped the mike and said to the driver, “You heard him. The same road. And keep your foot to the floor. We haven’t got all day!”
• • •
The BMW roared down the slope, and when they came to the bottom Slanski braked. There was a narrow frozen stream, a dark forest beyond it.
Anna looked back over her shoulder and saw lights. Figures were running down the incline after them, bullets cracking into the trees on either side.
Slanski shouted, “Hold on as tight as you can! This is where it’s going to get rough.”
Once they were across the frozen stream the headlight illuminated a rugged track through cavernous woods. The tires crunched and bumped over the track, the smell of pine in the forest almost overwhelming. Minutes later they cut out onto a broader, heavily rutted road that had obviously been used by forestry vehicles. There were banks of freshly felled trees stacked nearby and Slanski said to Anna, “Have we been followed?”
“I haven’t seen anyone. Not since we left the field.”
He stopped the bike and pulled up his goggles, his face covered in dirt. “Give me the map.”
Anna removed it from her blouse, and Slanski lit a match and tried to read it in the spluttering light.
“Where are we?”
“A place called Bear Valley Forest, by the looks of it. But how we get out of here is anybody’s guess. There are no roads marked on the map.” Slanski looked at her face. It was pale and frozen, and he could see the terrible strain and fear. “Anna, if we get into trouble, keep your pill ready, you understand?”
“I thought we were in trouble already.”
He smiled grimly. “Then let’s hope it doesn’t get any worse. Okay, let’s see if we can find a way out.” He revved the throttle and turned right onto the forest road.
• • •
>
Lukin’s car halted, and he saw the headlights and activity up ahead, half a dozen vehicles cramming the narrow road, uniformed men milling about. He climbed out of the car and ran up to a captain who looked in charge. He flashed his ID. “Major Lukin, KGB Moscow. I authorized this pursuit. What’s going on here?”
The captain saluted. “They got away, sir. The crazy fools drove into a forest down below. I’ve sent a dozen men down after them, but we haven’t got suitable transport to pursue.”
Lukin noticed that a gate into a field was open, a single tire mark cutting down the starched white field. He saw figures at the bottom of the slope with flashlights. Loud voices reached him from the darkness below. He turned back to the captain urgently. “Get on your radio. I want every available man ringing those woods. Do it, man!”
“It’s already been done, sir.”
“Then get on the radio again and make sure of it. I’m holding you personally responsible. And inform any patrols going into the area I’m on my way down.” Lukin looked around nervously, already knowing what he had to do. He saw a sergeant with a Kalashnikov and said to the captain, “I want that man’s weapon.”
“Sir?”
“The Kalashnikov, bring it here.”
As the captain scurried over to the sergeant, Lukin ran back to the two motorcycle riders who had dismounted. He grabbed one of the machines, climbed on, and kicked it into life. As the startled rider began to protest, Lukin roared, “Out of my way!” He drove over to the captain, grabbed the Kalashnikov from him, and slung it around his neck.
The captain looked at Lukin doubtfully as he sat on the machine with only one good hand and stepped in front of the motorbike. “Sir, it might be better if you waited. Going after those two alone is only begging for trouble. Besides—”
“Besides what? I’m a cripple? The advantage of one good arm, Captain, is that it soon gains the strength of two. I’ve ridden a motorcycle before. Get out of my way!”
The machine roared and the captain jumped back just as Lukin drove across the road, through the gate, and down the slope.