by Andy McNab
My next priority would be a hot drink, to get some heat directly to Tom's core. Placing the rest of the wood near the fire to dry it out, I turned and looked at his face. "Tom, I'm just going to see if I can find something to heat snow in for a "
He was lying too still. There was something very odd about the way his legs had now curled up to his chest.
"Tom?"
I crawled back to him, pulling him over and getting the hood off his face. Illuminated by the flames it told me all I needed to know.
Tilting his head toward the fire, I pulled open his eyelids. There was no reaction to the light. Both pupils stayed as fully dilated as a dead fish's. It wouldn't be long now before they clouded up.
I could hear the fire sucks now collapsing on each other, with glowing embers as well as flame. It was a wonderful sight, but it was too fucking late.
I tried his carotid pulse. Nothing. But that could be just my numb fingers. I listened for breathing and even tried his heart. Nothing.
His mouth was still open from when he had taken, or fought for, his last breath. I gently closed his jaw.
It was time to think about me. Pulling off my wet clothes, I wrung them out one by one before putting them back on.
I sat and fed the flames some more, knowing there were still things that I should do to him. I should try to resuscitate and reheat him until I was so exhausted I couldn't carry on, in the million-to-one chance he could be revived. But for what? I knew he was dead.
Maybe if we'd dug in for the night once the weather had closed in he would still be alive. We would have been in a desperate state in the morning, but maybe he would have survived. Maybe if I hadn't pushed him so hard to get here, or had realized what condition he was in and had stopped earlier. All these questions, and the only thing I was certain of was that I had killed him. I had fucked up.
I looked at his limp body, its mouth reopened, his long hair wet against his cheeks, the ice crystals on his peach fuzz now melting down his face. I'd try and remember a gabby but happy Tom, but I knew this image was the one that would stay with me. It was going straight to the top of the list of my sweaty, guilty, wake-upintheearly-hours nightmares. When I was put into the counseling program the Firm sets up for operators now and again, I'd told the shrinks I didn't have them. I was talking shit, of course. Maybe it was a good thing I was going to be part of Kelly's treatment now. I started to realize I might need it just as much as she.
Dragging him to the doorway, I sat him up against the gap, leaving a space of a foot or so above him for the smoke to escape. I covered his face with his parka.
Feeling was already starting to come back to my extremities and I knew I was going to be okay. All I had to do was find a station.
I turned back to the flames and watched the steam rise from my drying clothes. There would be no sleep for me tonight. I had to keep the fire going.
* * *
45
LDNDDN. ENGLAND
Wednesday, January 5,2DDD I was nursing a hot frothy Starbucks in the church doorway opposite the Langham Hilton, the only place I could keep a trigger on the hotel and also keep out of the drizzle.
It was breakfast time, and the sidewalks were packed with over coated wage slaves throwing Danish pastries and coffee down their throats, and shoppers out early for the after Christmas sales. Judging by the frenzy, it was clear the Y2K bug hadn't brought the world to its knees after all. It had been the last thing on my mind as I'd seen in the new century aboard an Estonian fishing boat, along with twenty six cold and seasick illegals from Somalia. Slipping away from a seaside village under cover of darkness, we'd battled across the Baltic in huge seas, heading for a peninsula east of Helsinki. Lion King told me it was midnight as we approached the Finnish coastline, where we were suddenly treated to one of the finest fireworks displays I'd ever seen.
The whole place seemed to light up as towns all along the shore celebrated the new millennium. I wondered if it held in store any new beginnings for me. Christ, I hoped so.
It was eighteen days since I'd left the hut and set off again into the blizzard. Tom had stayed behind, parka draped over his face, his body sterile of any item that could ID him. They probably wouldn't find him before the spring. I only hoped they'd give him a decent burial. If things worked out well here in London, maybe I'd go back and see to it all myself.
At first light, and without Tom, I was able to make distance at my own pace, even in the driving snow, and it was only a couple of hours before I hit a station about five or six miles away.
A train arrived heading west, toward Tallinn, but I let it go without me.
The one after that was heading east, toward Russia, and I climbed aboard. Without a passport it could take weeks to get out of Estonia on my own, but with Eight helping me, maybe it would be a different story. That was why I jumped off at Narva, and that was how I'd ended up on the fishing boat with my new Somalian friends. It had cost me all the dollars in my boot and had meant spending several uncomfortable days and nights hiding in the apartment with the land mines while Eight got things arranged, but it had been worth it.
Eight wasn't too happy about his car becoming history, but he still seemed thrilled to help me, even though he must have been aware of what had happened to Carpenter and the old guy in Voka, and put two and two together. I wondered if he gave a shit.
Eight didn't ask me again about helping him to escape to England, but as I stood on the jetty waiting to board the fishing boat, I turned to him and handed over Tom's passport. From the expression on his face and the tears in his eyes, you'd have thought I'd given him the three million.
I knew I was taking a big risk, but I felt I owed him that much. I just hoped he did a good job of doctoring Tom's picture, or that the day he tried to use it, immigration wasn't checking their computer screens too closely. Otherwise poor Eight would find himself being lifted by a team of heavies and whisked off to a 3x9 sooner than he could say "Crazy boy."
I'd told myself then that the passport was part of what I owed him for his help, along with a new car. But now, standing in London with a hot coffee in my hands and time to think, I knew it was more to do with trying to get over my guilt about Tom. I had pushed him beyond his limits in outrageous conditions and I'd killed him. Giving Eight the possibility of a new life was an attempt to square my conscience and make things right: The job was done, now cut away.
At first I thought it had worked and that things were all right. But I knew they weren't, not with Tom, not with Kelly. She was much the same; the New Year had passed her by, too. I'd phoned the clinic twice in the two days since I'd got back. I'd lied both times, telling them I was overseas but would be back soon. I was desperate to see her, but I just couldn't face it yet. I knew I wasn't going to be able to look her in the eye. Hughes picked up the phone the second time and told me that her plans for Kelly's therapy sessions, which included me, would have to stay on hold until I got back. I still felt confused about it.
I knew it had to be done, and I wanted to do it, but To add to the confusion, I'd also had a call from Lynn. He wanted to see me this afternoon. There seemed to have been a change of heart since our last meeting. He said he had a month's work for me. I'd been tempted to tell him where he could shove his 290 pounds a day, because if all went well with Liv this morning, I'd never have to depend on the Firm again. But there was no guarantee that she was going to appear, and though a month's pay wasn't much, at least I would be working instead of thinking.
The exchange was going to be simple. I'd opened a bank account in Luxembourg by telephone as soon as I returned to the U.K. The message I'd left Liv in the Helsinki DLB was that she'd be required to move the money electronically using a Fed-wire reference, which would guarantee the transfer within hours. When we met in the hotel in a few minutes' time, she would call her bank with the transfer instructions I would give her, and then we'd both just sit and wait until it happened. I would call Luxembourg each hour giving my password and would be told when t
he money had been deposited. In my own mind I'd set a cut-off time of 4 pm. If she hadn't turned up by then, I had to assume she never would. Then it would be decision time about her, and how to go about contacting Val to explain what Mr. and Mrs. Liv's little girl had been getting up to.
As my parting shot when I was sure the money had gone through, I'd toyed with the idea of revealing that I'd saved Tom's life and that he'd told me the whole story, just for the satisfaction of letting her know she hadn't outsmarted me. After all, I intended having nothing further to do with ROC. All I wanted was the money, and then they could carry on blowing up buildings and ripping peo pie's guts out for all I cared. Deep down, however, I knew that telling her would achieve nothing except to put me in the shit. She hadn't got as far as she had without damaging a few bodies, and I didn't want to be the next one on the list.
Twenty minutes before the RV time, a taxi pulled up at the hotel's main entrance.
As I watched, Sinbad stepped forward and opened the cab door, and I saw the back of Liv's head as she got out and went inside. We had the taxi between us, but I could see she had decided on the jeans today, together with her long leather coat, collar up against the cold.
I let her go in and watched for any surveillance or another vehicle pulling up shortly afterward. Neither happened. I waited, elated.
She was here. She wouldn't have come all the way to London just to announce that she was screwing me over.
The three million was now so close I could almost smell it. I had earned this money. No, after a lifetime of shoveling shit for peanuts, I deserved it. I'd been working hard to control my excitement as I stood in the doorway, but now I reckoned it wouldn't hurt to let myself enjoy the moment. I ran through my game plan one more time. As soon as the transfer was confirmed and Liv and I had said our goodbyes, I'd call the clinic and tell them that Kelly's new treatment could start straight away. It still worried me a bit, but I'd just have to get on with it. Who knows, I might even sort myself out.
Hughes had said there was no telling how long the therapy would go on for, so I'd been thinking it might be a good investment to buy a little apartment near by and sell it afterward. I could also start throwing a few builders at my house in Norfolk and get it sorted for when Kelly was ready to come home.
Less than ten minutes to go now. She still had to unload the DLB under the telephone, which held the keycard for the suite I'd booked. I'd also left instructions to place the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door handle once she entered. I waited and watched. There was nothing to see, apart from a woman getting splashed by a passing bus.
I could almost feel the three million between my fingers as I counted it in my mind. For about a millisecond I thought about giving Tom's share to some kind of charity. For a millisecond.
Because then I saw Kelly again, sitting like a frozen statue in the clinic and staring into space. Fuck it, she needed all the charity she could get.
With just two minutes to go, I dodged the traffic and approached the hotel. Sinbad wasn't there to help me as I pushed past the revolving doors and into the warmth of the foyer. The marble reception area was teeming with businessmen and tourists. I walked around them, past the Chukka Bar and the reception desk, then took the stairs.
I climbed to the third floor, opening my leather jacket and checking the position of the USP, tucked center front of my jeans. I'd gone back to Norfolk last night specifically to pick up a weapon, and had found myself mopping up the worst of the flooding that had come through the hole in the roof. Still, it wouldn't be long now before that useless tarp was replaced by solid Welsh slate.
Outside the door of Room 3161 stopped and listened. Nothing.
I pushed my own keycard into the lock and opened the door.
She was at the far end of the living room, her back to me, looking out of the windows that overlooked the main entrance. The door closed behind me with a gentle click.
"Hello, Liv, it's really good to "
I went to open my coat to draw down, but knew it was useless. The over coated body that had moved out from behind the cabinet housing the TV and minibar already had his pistol on me. The other body that sprang from the bathroom to my left was no more than four feet away, his weapon at my head.
I released my grip on the leather and let my arms drop to my sides instead of raising them. There could still be a chance to draw.
Liv turned toward me, only it wasn't her.
She spoke in a soft accent which I couldn't identify. "Step forward and keep your hands high in the air, please."
I did as I was told. The bathrooom man moved behind me and started to run his hands over my back and legs. It was pointless trying to bullshit them. As he removed my USP I couldn't exactly claim I was just delivering room service.
She said nothing as I was pushed from behind toward the sofa. Cabinet man stayed where he was, to my right. The other one was somewhere behind me.
The woman pushed past and headed for the door to the hallway. Her blond hair was dyed; I could see her brown eyebrows.
As she opened it I could see another over coated man outside. She left and he came in. He'd been there to block the exit if anything went wrong during the lift. It wouldn't have been hard for him to stop me.
He more or less matched the dimensions of the door.
Nothing was said as I sat and waited. But for what? I remembered Sergei's face in the 4x4 as he told me about the Viking's revenge. My heart was starting to pound big time.
Where the fuck was Liv? Had she been lifted too? Were these guys the Maliskia? The three square heads didn't speak or move. A feeling of dread came over me. Were they NSA? Was I really in Big Boy shit?
The pulses in my neck kicked up a gear and, not for the first time on this job, I could feel them pumping against my collar. The human door, who was still standing by the real one, must have seen it and recognized the feeling, because he gave me a knowing smile. I did my best to return it. Fuck 'em. I wasn't going to let them see how much I was panicking inside.
Long minutes that felt like eternity passed, then there was a knock.
The human door looked through the peephole, immediately reached for the handle, then stepped reverentially aside.
"Hello, Nick," Val said as he entered. With him was Liv's train station contact. They both wore dark-gray suits. "May I introduce Ignaty?"
Ignaty smiled and bowed his head slightly toward me. "Hello, Nick, I never managed to meet you personally at the station, but knowing so much about you, I feel as if we are old friends."
I nodded back, not wanting to say a word yet as my mind was too busy working out what the fuck was going on. I was scared, confused, and beginning to realize that I was in serious trouble. My best bet was to shut up and play stupid. That wouldn't be hard.
Val sat on the sofa opposite, while Ignaty stayed on his feet and fell in behind. The Chechen looked into my eyes for just a bit too long for my liking, and then he placed a large white envelope on the coffee table that lay between us. "That," he pointed, "is for you."
I reached for it, more confused than ever, and pulled open the flap.
He settled himself into the sofa and adjusted his suit pants before crossing his legs. Inside was a sheaf of documents in Cyrillic. I stared at them for a long time, not knowing what the fuck they were.
"They are deeds for two apartment blocks in St. Petersburg," he said.
"Their combined worth exceeds three million sterling. I thought you'd prefer an appreciating asset to cash."
My mental calculator was working overtime. I was a few weeks in credit with the clinic, but the bills would soon be racking up again. The three weeks that I'd been away would already have cost me 12,000, pounds and I'd soon be running on empty. One month with the Firm at 290 pounds a day would earn me precisely 8,700 pounds penceI might as well chance my luck.
"I'd rather have the cash. That was the arrangement."
He shook his head slowly, as if he was about to tell a child the trip to Disneyland was
canceled. "But, Nick, there was no arrangement. Liv has been deceiving us both in pursuit of her own greed." His eyes suddenly went twenty degrees colder, demonstrating with a single glance why he was the top man to be afraid of in his line of work. "Thankfully some are not as disloyal." He waved his hand behind him.
Ignaty looked smug.
I stared at them, as if I didn't have a clue what he meant.
"It is quite complicated, Nick, and you really don't need to know the details. Suffice to say, not only did she betray the trust that I had placed in her, she has now made it virtually impossible for me to access the Echelon dictionaries for a very long time. The only reason you are still alive is that you thought you were acting on my instructions."
The smile returned. "Come, work for me in Russia and you can then take advantage of your new property portfolio. The rents are extremely high in that part of the city. This is a fantastic opportunity for you, Nick. There might even be time for us to get together so that I can explain this whole sorry affair."
I shook my head. "I have things that keep me here." I hesitated. "I really could do with the money instead."
He pointed to the envelope still in my hand as if I hadn't even spoken.
"In there are the details of a contact, here in the United Kingdom, when you wish to come to Russia."
He stood up, and everyone moved with him.
I had to ask. "How did you know I was here?"
Val stopped just as the human door was about to open the real one. "Liv told me, of course. She told me everything." He paused. "Before Ignaty " He shrugged. His smile hadn't disappeared. He waited to see my reaction.
I bluffed it and looked even more confused, but in my mind's eye I saw her belly slit open and the eels writhing all around her.
"It shocks you?"
I shook my head.
"I didn't think so. You see, I cannot be seen to exhibit such a lack of judgment about the people close to me. I must show strength. You could help me do that when you come to Russia, Nick. Think about it, won't you?"