by Matthew Dunn
“You also need to notify the Agency so that we can get their help. They should give us every available resource they have.”
Will smiled, though now he felt nothing but anger and a total focus. “For the time being, we can’t talk to the Agency.”
Laith looked incredulous. “You’ve got to tell Patrick and Alistair that Sentinel’s been captured!”
Will shook his head. “I’m not going to do that.”
“God damn it, Will. You’re making the wrong decision.”
Will breathed in deeply as he looked across the Ural Mountains. “I can’t talk to Alistair or Patrick because they would never authorize what I’m going to do next.”
Matthew Dunn
Sentinel
Chapter Twenty-six
I t was midday. Will and his CIA colleagues were still in the vicinity of the lodge. White clouds lay low in the sky; snow fell fast on the ground. The black smoke from the trees was gone.
Will and Laith were on the other side of the lake. Roger was a mile away by the lodge, observing the mountain road in case any concerned civilians had seen the smoke and were coming to offer their help or armed police were coming to investigate the sounds of gunfire. But everywhere around them was silent, peaceful.
Will looked at the mountains, at the tranquil lake, and at the snow that seemed to be cleansing the beautiful grounds around them. An eagle flew from one of the mountaintops and drifted. Will watched its graceful movements. He looked at Ross’s dead body. The poor man had been sliced open from the lower abdomen to the base of his chest plate. His intestines, liver, and other entrails had spilled out.
Laith glanced at the distant lodge, across the lake. “We haven’t got time to clear up all this mess.”
Will nodded. “I’m going to leave cash in the lodge for the asset. But we can’t expect the owner to dispose of the bodies.” Will kept his gaze on Ross. The Scot’s eyes were wide in an expression of absolute terror and pain.
“Well, we’ve got a problem. There’s no boat to take them out onto the lake, and swimming them out there would be suicidal.” Laith stamped a foot on the frozen ground. “Plus, no chance of digging graves.”
The eagle emitted a high-pitched scream. It moved so gracefully, yet seemed so distant. But Will knew it could quickly swoop on its prey and rip it apart with a brutal and immediate savagery. “I’ll bring Barkov’s body out here. Let the animals have them. There’s nothing else we can do.” He knelt down and patted a hand on Ross’s blood-soaked jacket. “Doesn’t make it right, though.”
“Nope, it never is.”
“Did you examine the area around here?”
“Yes. It took me an hour to find, but the snow indentations are clear-Razin was lying about five hundred feet away, farther up the mountain. Bastard was watching Ross and the lodge the whole time.”
Will stood and rubbed his facial stubble, knowing that Ross’s blood would now be on his face. “He must have been here hours before us, maybe longer.” Even though he hated Razin’s actions, he couldn’t help but admire the man’s professionalism. “Tomorrow night we need to be in Moscow. We’re going to do something unexpected.”
“Fine by me.” The big ex-Delta man sighed. “But I still think we need backup.”
“You’ll change your mind when I tell you what we’re going to be doing.”
Laith smiled. “Patrick told me and Roger to report back if you started disobeying protocols again.”
As Will had done in his last mission with the two CIA officers.
“Go ahead, but you’ll be making a mistake.”
The American said quietly, “We’re saying nothing.”
Will frowned. “Why?”
Laith moved closer to Will; he was at eye level. “Because we hope you know what you’re doing.” His smile faded. “But we also worry that you’ve met your match, that you won’t succeed.”
Will held his gaze. “I’ll succeed. The bastard’s time is running out. Soon he’ll make a mistake.”
“You’re that confident?”
Will studied his colleague. “No.”
“I thought so.”
“You knew so.”
“Yeah.” Laith moved back. “I believe you’ll succeed. But the question is whether you’ll do it in time to stop a war.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Will stood on the side of Ulitsa Noviy Arbat in the heart of Moscow’s government district. The large Moskva River was easily visible at the end of the main road. To his left was a thin strip of parkland with tall office buildings behind it. To his right were large, modern-looking government administrative buildings. It was early evening and dark, though street and building lights and a full moon made everything around him easily visible. Cars drove steadily along the road, their headlights illuminating the snow on the ground and flakes falling through the air. There were no pedestrians to be seen; this busy route was for vehicles only. Roger was five hundred feet to his south, beside the river on Smolenskaya Naberezhnaya. Laith was two hundred feet east, directly behind Will on Ulitsa Noviy Arbat. And though they couldn’t see it, a mile farther to the east was the Kremlin.
Will checked his watch. It was 6:14 P.M. In his earpiece, he heard Roger’s voice. “Nothing yet. But he left at this time yesterday, so stand by to hear from me.”
Will wrapped his arms around his civilian windbreaker jacket and felt Moscow’s icy air penetrate the fabric of his jeans. He stamped his boots on the ground. “Understood.”
Roger spoke again, his voice quiet and tense. “You still have time to change your mind.”
“I know, but we’re going through with this.”
Roger made a sound like a sigh. “This is fucking crazy.”
Will glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see Laith but knew the man was secreted in the parkland by the road. “Laith, all set?”
“Damn right.” The former Delta Force operative sounded totally focused.
“Good.” Will looked back toward the river. “Remember. Keep everyone alive.”
“We know.” Roger went quiet for a few seconds before saying, “Hold. The embassy’s gates are opening.”
Will narrowed his eyes, waiting for Roger to speak again.
“Two BMW saloon cars and one SUV exiting.” Roger’s words were barely audible.
Will held his breath.
“It’s not our target. It’s the ambassador and his bodyguards.”
Will cursed and checked his watch again.
“The gates are closing.” Roger’s slow breathing was heavy; his voice sounded frustrated. “I’ve been watching this place all day. I saw him go in and haven’t seen him leave. He has to still be here.”
“Be patient. I’m sure he’s still in the embassy.” But Will examined every car that drove past him in case the target had used another concealed exit from the embassy to get to the road to access his home on Bolotnaya Ploshchad’. One vehicle passed close to him and threw up a wave of icy slush off the road and onto his body. Will brushed the slush from his legs and jacket while watching the car’s driver. The man looked old and waved a hand apologetically. Will looked in the approximate direction of Roger, focusing solely on his earpiece.
It was a further ten minutes before Roger spoke. “A silver Audi’s just pulled up on Smolenskaya Naberezhnaya, a hundred feet from the embassy gates. Two men are inside.”
Will grabbed his throat mic. “FSB?”
“For sure.” Roger went quiet for a while. “They’re just waiting.”
“Assessment?”
“They look routine. The same tail that was on our target yesterday.”
“Okay.” A gust of wind blew snow along the road from the river. Will momentarily shut his eyes as the stuff struck his face. When he opened them, he saw an army truck passing right by him. He held his breath as he casually watched the half-open rear of the truck and the many soldiers inside disappear down the road. For the briefest of moments he wondered if his intentions were too much, too risky, if he sho
uld abort this mission. But he knew that his only hope of rescuing Sentinel lay in doing something that few would dare attempt in the epicenter of Moscow.
“Gates are opening again.”
Will froze.
“Nothing yet. Hold.” Roger went silent for several seconds. “Okay, now I’ve got engine noises, I’ve got… I’ve got headlamps.” Three seconds passed. “Two vehicles. Both Range Rovers. Car in front has two men-definitely the protection detail. Car behind has one driver and no passengers. Driver is… yes, driver is target. Repeat, driver in vehicle two is target!”
Will shouted, “Move, Roger!”
“Like I needed to be told!” Roger’s voice was nearly breathless. The man was running at full sprint to the team’s parked vehicle on a side road between the river-straddling Smolenskaya Naberezhnaya and the road that Will and Laith were on. It was the same side road that their target and his bodyguards would be turning onto in seconds. “I’m at our vehicle. Fuck. Okay. Don’t think they spotted me.”
Roger had covered three hundred feet of snow-covered ground between his observation point and the vehicle in twelve seconds.
“I’m mobile, a hundred feet behind the protection detail, our target, and the FSB men who’re tailing them. I can see brake lights. The convoy’s turning onto Ulitsa Noviy Arbat. You should see them.”
Will did see them. He took quick sidesteps into the park so that he was hidden in undergrowth, but the two Range Rovers were still easily visible in the medium traffic on the road. As was the Audi containing the two FSB men, who would certainly be armed but whose job was to merely follow their target, make themselves visible to him, and thereby silently tell him that if he did anything silly in their country they would punish him.
Will crouched low. “Laith?”
“Yeah, I’ve got them.” The American’s words were slow and precise.
Roger’s vehicle emerged onto the road, four vehicles behind the convoy. Roger said, “Okay, stand by.” He went silent. When he spoke again, his tone of voice was one of absolute command. “Stand by. Stand by. Stand by. Okay”-more silence-“let’s go!”
Will sprinted out of cover, pointing his handgun at the Range Rover containing the two bodyguards. At the same time, he heard Laith’s AMR-2 sniper rifle fire two rounds into the SUV’s engine block, causing the vehicle to skid, then stop suddenly. In his peripheral vision, he saw Roger drive his vehicle around four civilian cars, then ram his vehicle into the rear of the FSB Audi, pushing it into the back of the Range Rover containing the target. All vehicles in the convoy were now stationary and trapped between Roger’s car and the immobilized Range Rover.
The two guards wasted no time, jumping out of their vehicle with pistols in their hands. Will sprinted to them even faster, and when he’d nearly reached their vehicle, he twisted, dived, and rolled on the road as one of the men raised his gun and sent a shot toward him. Then he sprang to his feet so that he was directly in front of the man. The bodyguard tried to sweep a leg against Will’s ankles to upset Will’s balance, which would cause him to stagger back and give the man sufficient distance to lift his gun again and shoot Will. But Will anticipated the movement, took one step back as the man’s leg swept through nothing but air, stepped forward again, and punched him in the chest with sufficient force to slam him back against the SUV. He took another step forward, jabbed two fingers into the man’s eyes, and brought the butt of his handgun down hard onto his shoulder blade. The man collapsed unconscious to the ground, and as he did so, Will ducked low. He was glad he did. A bullet from the other guard on the far side of the Range Rover raced through the air where he’d just been standing.
Laith shouted, “Drop your weapon and get on the ground!” Will glanced right and saw the SOG officer standing in the center of the road, only thirty feet away, with his rifle held at eye level and pointed at the second bodyguard. “Flat, facedown, hands clasped together and arms pointing at the sky. Fucking do it, or I’ll put a bullet in your skull!”
Will glanced left. Roger was on foot by the Audi. One of the FSB men was motionless by his feet. But the second Russian was moving quickly around the other side of the vehicle, a pistol gripped in both his hands. Will called out, “Laith?”
“Yeah, you’re clear. I’ve got this man covered.”
Will sprang to his feet and jumped onto the hood of the second Range Rover, ignoring the target, who was still in the vehicle. He ran over its roof, jumped onto the Audi, and dived right over it toward the FSB man, who was now at the rear of the car and had leveled his gun at Roger. Crashing midair into the man, Will wrapped his arms around the Russian’s upper body and limbs, pinning his arms tight against his sides before they hit the ground. He kept squeezing him tight. Roger appeared before them, nodded at Will, then smashed a fist into the Russian’s head. His head slumped to one side. But he was alive.
Will rolled away from the man just as he saw the target in the second Range Rover try to drive his vehicle out of the area. His Range Rover drove into the stationary SUV in front of it, moving it a couple of feet. He reversed into the Audi but was unable to move that car, as it was held firm by Roger’s vehicle. Driving forward again, he pushed the protection detail’s Range Rover a further few feet. He now had enough room to make a tight turn out of the stationary convoy and speed away from the trap. Will pushed himself up and sprinted toward the car as he saw it move back one last time and point its front tires right so that it would be ready to escape. He heard the vehicle’s gears change and the accelerator being depressed. He ran as fast as he was able and reached the driver’s door just as the car started to move forward. Smashing the window, he grabbed the driver’s throat, stayed firmly in position as the car swerved right and away from the other SUV blocking it, lurched toward the ignition, and turned off the engine. The vehicle slowed, then stopped.
Breathing fast, Will looked at the target. “You’re coming with me.”
Pulling the struggling driver out of the vehicle by his throat, Will looked around. The place looked chaotic. Civilian cars were immobile and at odd angles on the road behind Roger’s vehicle. The men and women inside them were watching all that was happening before them with looks of shock and fear. Some of them had cell phones planted against the sides of their faces. He heard sirens coming from multiple directions and knew that they would belong to law enforcement and maybe even specialist FSB units. Will wasted no time and began to drag his captive backward until he was by Roger. He looked at the CIA officer. “Is your vehicle operable?”
Roger nodded. “Reckon so.”
Roger moved into the driver’s seat of his vehicle and reversed the car, and as he did so Will heard the sound of metal tearing apart. Roger stopped the car, kept the engine running, got out, and opened one of the rear passenger doors. “The vehicle’s okay. But we need to get the hell out of here, right now.”
Will looked at Laith. The American was still pointing his AMR-2 at the head of the prone but conscious guard. Will spoke into his throat mic: “Laith, we’ve got to move.”
The sirens were drawing closer.
Laith smiled at the man close to his feet. In his earpiece, Will heard Laith’s words to the bodyguard. “Sorry about this.”
Laith spun his rifle around and swept it through the air, smacking its butt against the side of the guard’s head. He crouched down, placed his fingers against the man’s throat to check his pulse, muttered “You’ll live,” and jogged over to Roger’s car.
Seconds later they were all in the vehicle and Roger was driving the car at high speed along the road. Laith and Will were in the backseat; their captive was lying on the floor with their boots holding him firmly in place.
As they moved steadily along the route that took them west, away from the city, Will looked down and smiled, wondering what Alistair would think if he could see him now.
With a boot on the MI6 Head of Moscow Station.
Chapter Twenty-eight
It was either this place or a local school.” Roger ru
bbed his fatigued face.
Will looked around. They were in a small Russian Orthodox church, near woods and a tiny village that was fifty miles west of the outskirts of Moscow. Roger had chosen the venue because, like schools, most churches were empty at night, were easy to break into, and usually did not contain valuables deemed worthy of protection by alarm systems. The church had wooden pews to the left and right of the center aisle Will was standing in. The place was in total darkness, save for the light emitted by the flashlights that Will, Roger, and Laith carried. Their beams produced snapshot images of religious icons, prayer books, free-standing lamps, chandeliers, unlit candles, three-barred metal crosses, alcoves, wall-mounted paintings of various apostles and Jesus Christ, and an altar table that had marble pillars on either side of it. In front of the altar was a large chair. Seated within it was their prisoner. His arms and legs had been expertly tied to the chair with rope by Laith, who was standing close to the man.
Will glanced at Roger and quietly asked, “Are you sure we weren’t followed here?”
Roger shrugged. “There were only a few cars on the road leading to this place. They all looked normal.”
Will smiled, although his mood was cold. “Good.” He swung his flashlight back toward the prisoner. The man’s head was slumped down, though he was awake and unharmed. “Let’s begin.”
Will walked to the front of the pews and sat down on them so that he was directly opposite the prisoner, fifteen feet distant. He positioned his flashlight on the pew so that it shone directly into the man’s face, stretched out his legs, and leaned back to rest his head in his interlocked hands. Laith sat down on the far right-hand side of the front pew; Roger perched on the far left-hand side of the front pew. Both men pointed their lights at the prisoner. Everything in the church was now in total darkness, save the altar and the trussed man before it.