by Saul Herzog
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” the waitress said.
“Not really.”
“You interested in having a good time?”
“I’m just curious.”
The waitress shrugged. “She didn’t give off the vibe of a hooker.”
Lance looked out the window. The girl was getting back out of the car. She went to the building and lit another cigarette. This time, while she was standing outside, someone came down and let themselves out.
The girl let them pass and then caught the door with her foot before it locked. She threw her cigarette on the ground and reached into the pocket where she’d put the gun.
Then she looked up and down the street and entered the building.
15
Tatyana shut her eyes. She’d been anticipating this moment, dreading it. Now, it was here, it was almost a relief.
“Get down on your knees,” the voice said from behind her.
She was between the two security barriers, in no man’s land, and the Russian guards had dogs.
The lights lit the street like a stadium, bright as midday, and the Belarusian’s were coming to life too. She guessed there were no more than two Russian soldiers at the post, probably the same number of Belarusians.
The faster she acted, the less blood would be spilled.
She dropped to her knees, and as she did so, reached into her coat and pulled out the Browning.
Ahead of her, two Belarusian soldiers came running out of their post. One had a rifle drawn, ready for action. The second stumbled. He seemed to be fastening his belt.
Behind her were the Russians.
She glanced to either side. The trees were densely packed. She could have lost the soldiers out there, but not the dogs. She had no desire to spend the night in the woods killing dogs.
“Just let me go,” she said without turning her head. “Believe me when I say I have no desire to kill you.”
“Kill us?” the nearer of the two soldiers behind her said.
“Are the dogs still tied up?” she said.
The soldiers stopped. They spoke to each other, but she couldn’t make out what they said. They were about fifty yards back. Together now. She didn’t hear the dogs.
Up ahead, the two Belarusians watched the scene unfold as if it had nothing whatsoever to do with them and never would.
Had she walked ten yards closer to them, she’d be on their side of the line, and their problem.
But she hadn’t.
“Just let me pass,” she said again.
“You know we can’t do that,” the same soldier said. He was doing all the talking, and she listened carefully for the other guy. She didn’t want him going back to unleash the dogs.
“Just say I was never here,” she said.
They laughed, and she could tell they were both still together.
“At least take a vote on it,” she said. “Your colleague shouldn’t have to die because of your decision.”
“Put your hands in the air,” the talker said. “That’s enough talk.”
His accent was different to what she was used to. Archaic, like a peasant farmer in an old movie. She didn’t move her hands. She knew this man wouldn’t shoot her in the back, and she felt like she owed him one last chance to stand down before she opened fire.
“You got a call from Moscow earlier today, didn’t you?” she said.
“Stop talking and raise your hands.”
“What did they say to you?”
“They said to keep our eyes open. That you were dangerous and a national security threat.”
“Well,” Tatyana said, looking at the Belarusians, “they weren’t lying.”
“Put your hands in the air right now, or I’ll shoot,” the second soldier said.
He was younger than the first. The junior. There was a noticeable tremble in his voice, and she knew that when she looked at him more closely, a few seconds hence, dead on the ground, staring at the sky and an eternal expression of surprise on his face, she would be looking at the face of a boy.
Those were the moments that haunted her, that flashed before her eyes when she least expected it, that invaded her dreams. This boy’s face would be with her forever, and there was nothing she could do to avoid it.
“Is it just the two of you?” she said.
“What?”
“In the guard post? Is it just the two of you?”
“What is this?” the older one said, his voice betraying doubt for the first time.
“I’m going to give you one last chance to stand down,” Tatyana said. “Let me pass, forget I was here, and no one gets hurt.”
The man said nothing.
“What’s wrong?” the younger soldier said. “Why won’t she raise her hands.”
“There’s something wrong with her.”
“Either I keep walking,” Tatyana said, “or you both die here tonight.”
The younger one laughed nervously.
The other stepped toward her.
“I’m not threatening you,” Tatyana said. “I’m telling you what’s going to happen. I’m crossing this border tonight. You can’t stop that. You can only decide whether you live or die.”
“That’s enough,” the man said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt as he took the last few steps toward her.
“Please don’t do this,” Tatyana said.
The man came closer, and she waited for his hand to reach her shoulder. Then she turned and shot him point-blank in the chest. The look on his face was exactly as she’d known it would be, like the last thing he’d expected in the world had just happened. She grabbed him by the vest and held him up to use as a shield. It wasn’t her bullet that killed him, but the two in the back, fired by his colleague.
She held out the Browning and pointed it at the other soldier. He was even more of a boy than she’d thought.
He hesitated a second, then fired another shot.
She pulled the trigger, and he dropped to the ground, the bullet cutting clear through his neck, an inch above the collar of the vest. She watched to see if he moved, but the only movement was the gush of blood that poured into the snow with the last pulses of his heart.
She dropped the soldier she’d been holding and turned to look at the two Belarusians.
“Don’t call this in,” she called out to them.
The two men stood in the middle of the road looking at her. They didn’t know what to do. She was still on Russian soil, and they were prohibited from firing at her. But they were smart enough to see the inevitable fact that she would be their problem very soon.
She walked toward them.
“Let me pass, and you’ll never hear from me again,” she said.
One of them nodded at the bodies of the two dead Russians. “How do we explain that?” he said.
“Tell the truth. I shot them.”
“And how do we explain that we let you walk right by us?”
“It’s not your jurisdiction. I’m a Russian, and I shot them on Russian soil.”
“Russia is our ally.”
“Is that something you want to die for tonight?”
They looked at each other. They were no older than the Russians she’d just killed, and if they insisted, she’d shoot them both dead in an instant.
The Browning was still in her hand, and she could see by the whiteness of their knuckles how tightly they clenched their rifles. She was just a few feet from them, and the panic in their eyes grew with each step. If she stopped walking, even if she slowed down, they’d draw their guns and kill her. But she strode toward them, and it was as if they were both paralyzed.
She was going to walk right past them without a shot being fired. She believed that.
And then the closer of them panicked. He pulled up his rifle, a laborious maneuver that he didn’t stand a chance of completing before her bullet hit his chest.
She dropped to her knee as the second fired, then fired two shots, hitting him twice in the chest.
> She’d been expecting them to be wearing body armor, the Russians had been, but neither was.
The nearer of them was still alive. One look told her he hadn’t yet seen his twentieth birthday. She leaned down and held him while he took his final breaths.
“Sleep,” she whispered. “It’s going to be all right.”
When he was gone, she stood up and listened to the night. The air was very still. Her breath billowed in it. All she could hear were the dogs, still in their enclosure behind the Russian guard post.
She walked back through the snow to the Russian guard post and put a bullet in the security camera. Inside the office, she found an out of date analog tape system that was being used to store the footage.
She took the current tape out of the recorder and set it on fire. She searched the office to make sure she hadn’t missed any other surveillance equipment.
Then she went to the Belarusian post and searched their office. They didn’t even have a tape system. The only surveillance was a logbook with a handwritten record of who crossed and when. There’d been no entries since the evening before.
There was a Belarusian police vehicle parked behind the post, and she found the keys to it in the desk in the office. There were also several detailed maps of the area, which she took and put in her coat. Then she went out to the car, sat inside, and turned the ignition. It took a few tries, but it started.
She pulled out onto the road slowly, the road hadn’t been plowed on this side of the border, and headed west.
16
Lance put some money on the table and left the bar. He went out onto the street and crossed to the Volkswagen.
It was unlocked, and he got in the driver’s seat. He looked around the car. Apart from cigarette ash in the center console, it was empty. He opened the glove box, but there was nothing in it. He reached under the steering column and opened the hood. Then he went to the front of the car and disconnected the battery.
He left the car and walked to the building, letting himself in quietly. No one was in the hall, and he climbed the stairs to the third floor. From the stairs, he could hear the woman on the landing above.
Her footsteps caused the floor to creak.
He climbed the remaining steps and drew his gun. Peering carefully around the banister, he saw her outside his door, gun in hand. She was looking at the door, and he didn’t know if she intended to knock or shoot it open.
He waited.
She raised her hand and rapped on the door.
He stepped up onto the landing behind her and said, “Drop the gun.”
She froze.
“Go on,” he said. “Put it down.”
“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said.
“Go ahead and put down the gun,” he said again.
She held the gun so that the trigger guard rested on her thumb.
“Put it on the ground. I won’t say it again.”
She bent down and let it fall to the ground.
“The purse too.”
She placed her purse next to it.
“Turn around,” he said.
The girl turned to face him and he almost dropped his gun.
She noticed the expression on his face.
“What is it?” she said.
It was his first chance to get a good look at her, and he realized why she’d stood out before.
Apart from the bleached hair and provocative clothing, she could have been Tatyana’s twin. The resemblance wasn’t subtle, it was unmistakable.
His gun still pointed at her, and she eyed it nervously.
“Please,” she said, looking at it.
“Stop talking,” he said.
He reached into his pocket, found the keys, and threw them to her.
“Open the door,” he said.
She turned around and unlocked the door. Her hands shook.
“Get inside,” he said.
She stepped forward, and he followed her into the apartment. He picked up her gun and purse and knocked the door shut with his foot.
“Sit down,” he said.
There was a sofa against the wall, and she sat on it, facing him.
“Is anyone else coming?” he said.
She shook her head.
“Tell me why I don’t shoot you right now,” he said.
“Don’t,” she gasped. “Please.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Larissa.”
“Larissa what?”
“Chipovskaya.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Tatyana sent me.”
Lance felt his pulse pound. “Tatyana who?”
“Tatyana Aleksandrova.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
Larissa switched to English. “Please,” she said again. “Your name is Lance Spector. Tatyana gave me the address of this apartment. She told me to come here and speak to you.”
Lance went to the window and looked down at the street below. This could be a trap. Someone else might be watching the entire thing. If it was a trap, they couldn’t have found more perfect bait.
He got some cable ties from the kitchen and threw them to her.
“Put those on,” he said.
She looked at the ties but hesitated. “Don’t make me wear these.”
He said nothing.
Reluctantly, she put them around her wrists and pulled it tight with her teeth.
“You came looking for me,” he said to her.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said for the second time.
“And what does it look like?”
“I came here to talk to you.”
“With a gun?”
“It’s not even loaded,” she said. “I don’t know how to use it. I stole it from work.”
Lance checked, and it was true. It didn’t look like the gun had fired a bullet in its life.
“You’ve been crying,” Lance said.
She wiped her eyes awkwardly with her tied hands. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“Because you’re scared?”
“Of course I’m scared. What are you, an idiot?”
Lance looked at her and tapped his finger against the kitchen counter nervously.
“Start talking,” he said.
“Tatyana. She said you’d help me.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Why else would I come?”
“I don’t know.”
“How would I know where to find you?”
Lance’s face grew dark. “If something’s happened to her,” he said.
“What?”
“If you’re part of some sting.”
“No. I’m alone. Tatyana told me she was burned. She said I needed help.”
“When did she tell you this?”
“Last night.”
“How did she contact you.”
Larissa nodded to her purse. “There’s a matchbook in there.”
Lance looked in the purse and found the matchbook.
“I called the number on it,” she said. “Tatyana answered.”
“All right.”
“Call it for yourself.”
“It won’t work now.”
“What?”
“She’ll have destroyed the phone. At least I hope she has. She’s been taking a lot of risks on your behalf.”
“You’re a friend of hers?” Larissa said.
“Let’s figure out who you are first.”
“I met her two years ago,” Larissa said. “She came to me. She told me our fathers served on the same submarine.”
“The sub that sank?”
Larissa looked surprised he knew that. Lance looked at her very closely. She looked so like Tatyana that they had to be family.
“You look like her,” he said.
“I know that.”
“Why?”
“Because …” she said, hesitating.
“Because
what?”
“We never really got into it.”
“Got into what?”
“Our parents. Our mothers.”
“What about them?”
“Our mothers were friends. That much was clear. But Tatyana implied that maybe we shared a father.”
“They were both sleeping with the same sailor on that submarine?”
The subject seemed to agitate her. “It seems that way,” she said.
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“Neither of us ever met our fathers.” Larissa hesitated a second, then corrected herself. “Our father,” she said.
“I see,” Lance said.
“It seems we’re half-sisters,”
“But you never found out who your father was?”
“I didn’t. If Tatyana knows, she never told me.”
“You didn’t ask her?”
“We only ever met one time. The night she recruited me. Apart from the messages I wrote her, we never spoke again until last night.”
“You passed her messages?”
“Yes.”
“Where?” Lance said, already knowing the answer.
“There’s a locker at Leningradsky station.”
“What platform?”
“The Khimki platform.”
Lance nodded. It made sense. It was certainly one way of doing things. If Tatyana was afraid of being betrayed, why not turn to someone related to her?
“What made you valuable to Tatyana?”
“We trusted each other.”
“I mean,” Lance said, “what access did you have that she was interested in?”
“I work at a gentleman’s club close to the Kremlin.”
“You’re a stripper?”
Her eyes flashed. “I’m a dancer.”
“I beg your pardon,” Lance said.
Larissa noticed the sarcasm. She fixed him in her gaze, a challenge in her eyes that dared him to say something.
“So, Tatyana told you she was burned?”
“Yes. She said she was leaving Russia and that I should too. She said if anyone found out I’d been helping her, they’d kill me.”
“And she said I would help you get out?”
Larissa shook her head.
“She didn’t say that?”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here?”