The President's Man

by Alex Ander

  Hardy got in her line of sight. “You were saying…”

  Her mind came back to the present and she locked eyes with him. “The basement is where we found a secret passageway.”

  Hardy’s eyebrows went up and he stood straight. Whenever the term ‘secret passageway’ was used, his curiosity was piqued. The allure of finding something hidden intrigued him; however, more importantly, a passageway meant something simpler—a way inside.

  Natasha smiled. “I see I have your attention now.”

  With two fingers, he curled an ear toward her. “I’m all ears.”

  “My father and I followed that passageway, until we came out on the other side of the hill, far away from the palace. It was common to build secret passageways. In case of attack, the occupants had a way to escape. I think we can use that passageway to get into the palace and attend the party.”

  Victor returned to the table.

  His head hanging down, Hardy slowly shook it back and forth, drawing out his words. “I…don’t…know, Natasha. It’s been a long time, since you were there. How do you know where the entrance is located?”

  “The first thing I saw when we came out was a large boulder. There were no other rocks in the area. That one must have been put there to mark the location, in case anyone needed to sneak,” she cleared her throat and leaned heavily on the next word, “inside.”

  “What if it’s been moved? What if the opening has been sealed shut? The passageway could have collapsed in the last ten years. What if we find the entrance and get to the palace, only to discover the opening on that side has been sealed? Those are some big ‘what ifs.’”

  Natasha noticed Victor. “How’d it go?”

  The muscles in Victor’s jaw were taut. “Not good,” he said, through clenched teeth. “I told him everything we’ve discovered and that I had good reason to suspect there would be an attempt on the Premier’s life and…”

  A bad feeling swept over Natasha. “What happened?”

  He stared at the table. “Once he found out I was with you,” Victor motioned toward Natasha, “he told me you were wanted in the deaths of four FSB agents and I was to bring you in, immediately. If I didn’t, then I was going to be charged with insubordination for disobeying a direct order. I would also suffer the same fate that awaits you.” He raised his eyebrows. “Whatever that is, I’m not sure.”

  “Oh, Victor, I’m so sorry I got you involved in this.” Natasha put her hand on his shoulder. “I should have never called you.”

  “No,” replied Victor, his voice getting louder. “You are a soldier, defending your country. It is General Popovich who should be sorry.” Victor shook his head, disgusted that his friend had become what he is today. “He was a good soldier, too, in his day. I think he has become a part of the political machine, caring more about how he is viewed by his peers, than carrying out his duty.”

  “Victor, Hardy and I can take it from here.” Natasha glanced at Hardy; he nodded his head. “You and your team have done enough. Just give us a head start…”

  “You are not going anywhere without us.” Victor’s eyebrows pointed toward the bridge of his nose. “I say ‘to hell with Popovich.’ I’m a patriot and I will continue to serve my country and my Premier.” Victor gestured toward the invitation in Natasha’s hand. “What’s the plan?”

  Hardy informed Victor of Natasha’s plan. Victor had reservations, too, voicing the same concerns Hardy had voiced.

  She chucked the invitation and Hardy caught it before it slid off the table. “Well, if either of you have a better one, I’d love to hear it.” Her head pivoted back and forth from Victor to Hardy. “Anything?”

  After more than a minute, Hardy and Victor realized her plan was the best they had and gestured their compliance to each other.

  Hardy scanned the invitation. “I don’t know how Russians celebrate birthday parties, but in America, a 50th birthday party for our President would be a formal affair.” Hardy pinched his shirt between his thumb and forefinger and tugged. “We’re not dressed for the occasion.”

  “I think I can take care of that.” Once again, Victor had his cell phone out, making a call. He looked Hardy over from head to toe and said, in Russian, “I have a brother who lives nearby. He, too, is a short man.” Victor, Nikolai and Ivan laughed, while Natasha smiled.

  Hardy’s eyes went back and forth from Natasha to Victor. “What did he say?”

  Natasha pursed her lips and stifled her laughter. “He said his brother, who lives nearby, has a black suit that would fit you.”

  Hardy knew that was not exactly what Victor had said. Upset, but not with Victor, he was mad at himself for not learning more Russian than a few curse words. It was good; however, that Victor and his men were busting Hardy’s chops. That meant they were starting to accept him. And, that was good for morale. He laughed with them.

  Chapter 17: Jameson

  Once the plan to infiltrate the Summer Palace was finalized, Hardy stepped away and placed a call to Director Jameson; he answered on the first ring.

  “Hardy, you’re late checking in. How’s it going? Have you found Rudin?”

  Hardy brought Jameson up to speed on the progress of the mission, including the assassination plot on the Premier’s life. The director was not pleased with the last part.

  “That wasn’t your objective. Let the Russians clean up their own messes. You have a job to do and that job is finding and killing Rudin.” Jameson was a man who followed the rulebook to the letter. He and Hardy had made a plan to catch and kill Rudin and get out of the country. Thwarting an assassination attempt was not part of that plan. The way Jameson saw it the additional time spent in country only served to make it easier for something to go wrong.

  “I understand the mission, sir. In order to complete it, I need to find Rudin, and that involves getting to the Premier. I see our goals and those of our Russian counterparts as being the same. I—”

  “Damn it, Hardy,” said Jameson, his voice boomed through the phone’s speaker. “Is this how it’s going to be? I gave you an order. I expect you to carry out that order. I don’t expect you to change things as you see fit.”

  “With all due respect, sir, circumstances in the field change and agents need to pivot when required—”

  “Don’t lecture me on being a field agent, Hardy. I know events can change. I was in the field, too. Unlike you, however, I didn’t change the parameters of the mission. I changed my course-of-action to complete the mission.”

  Hardy gripped the sat phone tighter. He knew Jameson had a lot of experience, but Hardy was no rookie. He understood the importance of following orders. He also knew that, sometimes, a plan did not work as it had been laid out. A soldier, or field agent, had to make quick decisions based on the changing landscape of the battlefield.

  “Are you still there?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Hardy.

  “Tread carefully, Hardy. Your actions will have a direct impact on your job status. This may end up being your first and last mission.”

  “Yes, sir…I’ll contact you again, when I have more information.” He disconnected the call. The director had been clear. Hardy may come back to the States no longer in the employ of his country. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes. With his mind on the conversation with Jameson, he did not hear Natasha.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Not wanting to discuss the call, Hardy nodded and changed the subject. “Are we ready to go?”

  Natasha noticed the diversion, but did not push him for details. “First, we have to make a stop at Victor’s brother’s house. From there, we need to get some supplies before leaving for the Summer Palace. But, yeah, we’re good to go.”

  Chapter 18: Palace

  Facing a hill, Natasha stood by the only large boulder in the area. She looked in the direction of the Summer Palace. Tall trees surrounded her and the other members of the team. A few of the setting sun’s rays f
ound their way over the hill and through the trees, giving her enough light to identify the landscape. She took fifteen measured steps, stopped and told everyone to fan out and check for the door leading to the secret passageway.

  Hardy, Victor, Nikolai, Ivan and Natasha began poking metal rods into the earth, trying to locate the hidden door. After moving up the hill for several meters, they found nothing. They fanned out a little further and repeated the process, going down the hill and ending where they had started.

  Hardy stared at Natasha. “Are you sure this is the spot?”

  “I’m positive.” She pointed at the boulder. “That’s the same rock I saw as a teenager.” Standing in place, she acted out what had taken place more than a decade earlier. “As soon as I came out of the passageway,” she pointed, “I looked straight ahead and saw that rock. It was about fifteen steps away.”

  “How do you know it was fifteen steps?” questioned Hardy.

  “I was curious. It’s my nature. I started there and paced off the distance,” she swung her arm toward the hill, “to the entrance. It took me fifteen steps to get there.”

  Hardy gave Natasha an onceover, beginning at her feet and ending at her head. “You said it was your thirteenth birthday?”

  She nodded her head.

  Hardy trotted back to the boulder and stood where she had been standing. He took fifteen half steps and stopped. “Let’s start searching from here.”

  They formed a line and poked their metal rods into the earth, while climbing the hill. They had not taken three steps, when Nikolai’s metal rod hit something solid. He poked the rod into the ground in several places. Each time, he was met with resistance, and everyone heard a ‘clunking’ sound.

  They cleared away the dirt and debris, revealing a large iron door. It was four-feet wide, six-feet high and parallel to the slope of the hill. Nikolai and Ivan took hold of the door’s latch and tugged. Grunting, they applied more force, while Hardy and Victor each grabbed a corner. The four men were able to loosen the rusted hinges and swing open the door. The earth shook beneath their feet when they let go and the heavy iron slab landed on the ground. Cool, musty air rushed out of the opening to greet them. Natasha tapped the button on the back of her flashlight and directed the beam inside.

  The opening was only four-feet high for the first few meters. After that, the passageway rose to more than six-feet in height. The width appeared to be wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side.

  “What made you think it was closer to the boulder?” Natasha leaned over and examined the darkness.

  Hardy squatted and followed her flashlight’s beam. “I figured you’re taller now than when you were thirteen-years-old. Your fifteen steps, just now, took you further away from the boulder. In short, we started searching too close to the hill.

  Victor held two backpacks.

  Hardy stood and strapped on one of the backpacks before adding a tactical helmet and goggles. A small sledgehammer and pickaxe hung near his leg. He turned on the flashlight attached to the helmet and faced Natasha. She was wearing the same gear. They resembled miners more than they did members of a tactical team ready to crash a high-profile birthday party. “Are you ready?” She gave him the ‘thumbs-up’ sign. “Ordinarily, I’d say ‘ladies first,’ but in this case…”

  Victor put one hand on each of them. “Good luck.” When Natasha acknowledged him, he added, “Be careful.”

  She nodded her head before following Hardy into the blackness.

  Chapter 19: Passageway

  The passageway had a gradual incline. The air was moist and smelled horrible. It had been musty at the opening, but now it was rank, getting worse the deeper Hardy and Natasha went. Water dripped from the ceiling in places and mold was growing on the walls, ceiling and footpath, which were made of stone.

  After twenty minutes, Hardy came to a spot where there was a large expanse of pooled water. He was unsure of the water’s depth. He stepped slowly, one footfall at a time, not wanting to drop into a deep hole, possibly a sinkhole that had opened at some point in the last decade. He and Natasha were probably the only ones who had been down here in almost fifteen years.

  A few minutes later, they had passed the water and continued forward. There were a few more water pools, but they were smaller and it was obvious they were not concealing a hole.

  Hardy stopped when he came to a ‘Y’ in the passageway. One leg veered off to the left, while the other leg went straight. He shined his handheld flashlight down each leg. “Which way?”

  Squinting, Natasha moved her head back and forth, trying to recall the way she and her father had come. At the time, they had been going in the opposite direction. She did not remember the passageway being anything but straight. If she and Hardy chose wrongly, they would lose precious time, having to backtrack.

  In the beam of his helmet-mounted flashlight, Hardy saw her indecisiveness. He trusted her instincts. Her memory had gotten them get this far when he had doubted the plan from the beginning. “Natasha?”

  “Yeah,” she said, studying each route.

  “Look at me.”

  She whipped her head around, her helmet-mounted light shining on his forehead.

  “Don’t think right now. What’s your gut telling you?”

  She glanced at the left leg before pointing to the right one. “It’s this way.”

  “All right, let’s go.”

  The corridor seemed to go on forever. They had walked another twenty minutes and still not come to the end.

  Natasha was thinking she had made the wrong choice. “Maybe, we should turn around and go back.”

  Hardy moved forward, never hesitating. He and Natasha had come too far not to see this through.

  Less than five minutes later, he stopped when the pathway unceremoniously ended. Hardy shined his flashlight all around the wall in front of him as well as the surrounding area—nothing but stone.

  Natasha examined the wall. “Did we miss something or is this a dead end?”

  “Well, we’ve come this far.” Hardy removed the pickaxe before setting the backpack on the stone floor. “It would be a shame not to at least knock on the door. Stand back.”

  He checked the clearances on either side of him. He swung the pickaxe, aiming for the same spot with each swing. Chips of stone flew back at him, striking his face and goggles. He jerked away each time a piece hit him. His pickaxe connected several more times with the wall before he stopped and took a closer look at where he had been aiming. He had made a tiny hole. “Kill your light.” He turned off his flashlight. No light was coming from the hole. He put his hand up to the hole and felt a slight breeze. “We broke through. I think there’s a chamber on the other side.”

  Natasha slid her backpack from her shoulders. “I don’t believe it.” She grabbed her sledgehammer.

  “Believe it. You’ve got good instincts. You need to trust them.” He exchanged the pickaxe for the sledgehammer. Taking turns striking the wall, Hardy and Natasha opened a section of the wall big enough for Hardy to squeeze through.

  Natasha held up her hand and he stopped. She stuck her head through the opening, the light on her helmet illuminating the cavity. After a quick scan, she snaked her way between the jagged bricks. Hardy tossed in their packs, while she shined her flashlight around the area and confirmed that this was the basement of the Summer Palace. She looked back at the opening she and Hardy had made. At some point, the entrance she and her father had gone through had been covered to keep people from accessing the passageway. She was still staring at it when Hardy contorted his body and made his way inside.

  Wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, he depressed the switch on his flashlight and followed its beam. “Which way do we go from here?”

  Natasha got her bearings and pointed. “The staircase should be over there.”

  Hardy headed in that direction, stopping at the bottom of a stone spiral staircase. With Natasha on his heels, he ascended the stairs, careful not to m
ake too much noise. At the top, a heavy wooden door impeded their progress. Slowly, he twisted the doorknob; it was not locked. He let the doorknob go back to its resting position and motioned for Natasha to go back down the steps.

  Once they were standing near the backpacks, she unbuttoned her shirt. “On the other side of that door is a hallway that leads to the kitchen area. We’ll need to change here. I doubt if anybody will come down here, but we should stow our gear out of sight.”

  Hardy nodded, while he took off his goggles and unfastened the strap on his helmet. He stripped out of his tactical clothing and boots, revealing another layer of clothing. He was dressed in a black suit with a white ruffled shirt and a red bowtie. After removing a pair of black dress shoes from his backpack and putting them on, he straightened his suit and bowtie before retrieving a pistol holstered at the small of his back. A quick check of its status later, he tossed the backpack, helmet and goggles through the opening in the wall.

  “Hardy, can you give me a hand with this?”

  He directed his flashlight toward Natasha’s feet. The beam bounced off the floor, casting a glow on her. She was standing with her back to him, holding a fake diamond necklace in her hand. Hardy took it, wrapped it around her slender neck and joined the two ends of the crab-claw clasp.

  She spun around. “How do I look?”

  Hardy tapped a forefinger to the top of his head. “Is that part of the ensemble?”

  Natasha’s eyes went upward. “Oops.” She was wearing her helmet. Removing the tactical gear, her hair fell. She twisted her head and shoulders several times before running her fingers through the long locks, adding fullness. “Now, how do I look?” Wiggling her fingers, she slid her hand into a black glove that came to rest above her elbow.

  Natasha’s long, blonde hair, which normally came to the middle of her back, was now black and stopped at her shoulders. Victor’s sister-in-law had helped Natasha cut and dye it, in case anyone at the party knew what she looked like. She was wearing a royal blue sleeveless satin dress, the hem coming to her knees. Black nylons and royal blue high-heeled pumps completed her outfit.