‘Well, he told me that the round tore through the calf muscle, and narrowly missed your fibia. Your body will repair the damage to the blood vessels and muscle fibre, but you must keep the wound clean and dry.’
Lomax gazed around at the walls, opening his hands out as if to say ‘how will I do that in this place?’
‘Lomax.’ Zlotnik’s deep voice took on an air of sincerity. ‘Haven’t we already treated your leg? You must realise we will look after you in here.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’
Zlotnik sniggered and lent over to pat the bandage. ‘You will survive.’
‘What time is it? The guards stole my watch.’
‘You are wondering if Sean Quinlan and the boy succeeded in escaping?’ Zlotnik checked his watch. ‘Don’t worry. He will be picked up at the airport.’
‘You don’t have them?’
Zlotnik smiled. ‘I must go now.’ He glanced at the table. ‘And don’t forget your food - you’ll need your strength.’
Lomax returned the smile.
Zlotnik paused at the door. ‘You know the old Russian saying: “Eat breakfast yourself, share dinner with a friend, but give supper to your enemy.”’
‘But I am not your enemy.’
‘And this is not your supper. Eat the breakfast and I will be back for you.’ Zlotnik closed the door gently after him.
Lomax poured a cup of strong black tea from the pot. He understood there would be dark times ahead, having been through a similar process before. They would start with a formal interrogation. When they became dissatisfied with his answers they would change to more aggressive strong-arm treatment. And when that failed they would do the stuff they shouldn’t - the dreadful water-boarding and other tortures he sometimes dreamed about.
He was not overly concerned. Years before he was forced to retire from the service following a breakdown. Soon afterwards his sister informed him she had cancer. He cared for her throughout the treatment. Somehow he managed to cope. Surprisingly, nursing her gave him a new strength. He squinted at the clothes they’d put out for him. The colour reminded him of the nurses’ uniform at his sister’s hospital.
His mind drifted back to when he started at the Section. Then he was considered to be one of the toughest agents, and was proud of his hard-earned reputation. At the time he felt indestructible, but when the breakdown occurred he found himself staring down the blackest pit in hell. Somehow the news of his sister’s illness reminded him that however bad things got, others were worse off. She died after a couple of short months, and though the grief was painful, he found his old self again.
Now he faced a bleak future of pain, exhaustion, and loss of dignity. Yet he hoped that in the forthcoming interrogation he would never again lose the core that kept him from his true self.
The bolts on the door flung open with a crash. He was about to find out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
‘Excellent job.’ Sir Anthony congratulated Sean while shaking his hand. ‘Do take a seat.’ He indicated a chair. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear father and son were reunited. They’re both really glad to see each other.’
Sir Anthony was a senior civil servant connected with the Section. Sean wasn’t sure about the exact nature of the relationship, and rarely encountered him in the department. However his presence indicated something big was occurring.
‘Has Khostov given you the goods?’
‘Yes. It turns out that while he was staying in London with Yakov Petrovich, he left the documents in a kind of monument in the garden. It’s where the family used to bury their dogs and other pets. So the Russian gang sent to find Khostov were probably within yards of the information they were looking for.’
‘I appreciate it’s early days Sir Anthony. But are they as valuable as we thought they might be?’
‘Hard to say Sean. Translation experts are studying them, and then we’ll gain some political insight into what they can tell us.’
‘And Lomax?’
‘We’re working on that.’
‘You appreciate he baited the trap himself, so I could get to Levushka.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ replied Sir Anthony testily. ‘I’ve got a sizable section of the Foreign Office on his case. We’re trying to arrange a spy swap.’
‘I saw him go down’, Sean replied. ‘Do you know how he is?’
Sir Anthony sighed. ‘Sorry to bark at you like that; we’re all under a lot of stress here. No, we don’t have any info on his condition. But you can be sure we’ll keep the pressure up to get him repatriated.’
‘OK.’ Sean lent back in the chair. ‘I guess there’s nothing more you can do.’
Sir Anthony shook his head. ‘I wish I had better news..’.
‘So I’m done?’
Sir Anthony cleared his throat. ‘Not quite.’ He observed the concern on Sean’s face. ‘I understand the Section has asked a lot from you, and you have delivered everything we wanted.’
‘There’s always a but.’
Sir Anthony dipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘I don’t feel I have any right to ask for anything more, so you are free to withdraw at this point.’
Sean sat back, stunned. He had never been given the option to withdraw from a mission when there was obviously still something left to achieve.
‘I can’t ask you.’ Sir Anthony glanced at his watch. ‘But there is someone I want you to talk to.’ He picked up the desk telephone and spoke into it. ‘Is everything ready? Right, put him through.’
He handed the phone to Sean.
‘Leader-one to base.’
‘Receiving.’
‘We are on approach. Please confirm you are prepared for us.’
‘We are ready, Leader-one. Runway is lit. Keep strictly to the airstrip as we have ice fragmentation either side.’
Two of the Russian bombs had blown holes in the ice half a kilometre away. The displacement caused fissures to appear, dangerously close to the steel matting that formed the landing strip.
The first F-35 Lightning II warplane lined up for approach, powered down the glide path and landed without a bump. The plane continued to taxi to the end where the waiting ground crew signalled the pilot to a cleared area. Leader-one spooled down his jet and went through the landing check-list. He got out in time to see Leader-two come into land. Undoing his helmet, he waited until the second pilot finished his post-flight checks.
‘Freeze your nuts here.’
‘Another day in paradise Jimmy.’
They were shown to the nearest hut where the door was being held open. They were blown in by a squall.
Leader-one waved a nonchalant salute to the base commander.
‘We thought there would be more than just two planes. Where are you fly-boys from?’
‘Elmendorf AFB, sir. We’re the spearhead for the 90th Fighter Squadron. We’re expecting two squadrons of warplanes as soon as we can get enough KC-135 tankers up.’
‘I heard your Lightnings were dogged by technical issues recently. Something to do with an engine blade problem?’
Leader-one waved the remark away. ‘Dealt with a long time ago, sir. We got you some real firepower now. What do you want to do with us?’
‘I want six aircraft in the air at all times. Rotate off the runway. I want the rest on three shifts, so we can put 20 or more jets up on five minutes’ notice.’
Leader-one raised an eyebrow.
The commander noticed, but said nothing.
‘Mission orders sir?’
‘You are to protect and defend this base and the icebreaker. We’re expecting some company. I hope you boys are up to a little rough and tumble?’
‘You bet, sir. We’ve not come all this way just to chill out, pardon the pun sir.’
Sean settled into the cream leather seat of the BAe HS125 jet, and Alexei sat opposite.
‘How did they treat you?’ Sean was curious to find out if anyone had removed the kid gloves during his de-briefing.
&
nbsp; ‘Your people have been very kind to me.’ Alexei Khostov bowed his head, revealing an unruly head of silver hair. ‘I know you were instrumental in bringing back my son.’
Sean looked through the oval window as the green fields receded below. ‘It cost us a good man.’
‘You must believe I am very grateful. I thought I might never see Levushka again.’
‘You might not see him again.’
The aircraft began to level out. They were flying to RAF Lossiemouth in Moray, Scotland. While they were in the air another transport aircraft based at RAF Brize Norton was also on-route to Lossiemouth, for their onward flight.
Khostov looked directly into Sean’s eyes. ‘It is enough he is safe in England.’ His gaze was so intense Sean could feel the raw intellectual power of the man, as though he was examining his conscience and motives.
‘He was safe in Russia.’
‘But we would not have had the brief time we had together. Is that not more important?’
At that moment Sean could not help thinking about Natasha. How many brief moments had they shared together?
‘For you?’
‘No, for both of us.’
The conversation lapsed. In the silence Sean recalled the moment he took the phone call Sir Anthony had arranged. As soon as he heard the voice Sean knew it was the Foreign Secretary, Howard Stern, head of British security services. In Sean’s extensive experience with the Section he had never known an agent having a dialogue with someone at that level. He should be honoured, but in reality he only felt tired.
The conversation began well. After the usual pleasantries Stern had commented on Sean’s previous mission. ‘I was astonished at what you achieved in the States. You not only helped to prevent an escalation of hostilities between the US and Russia, but managed to retrieved a huge cache of hi-tech American hardware.’
But Sean had experienced this type of flattery before. ‘I had help.’
‘I think you are doing yourself a disservice. I know it wasn’t a single-handed operation, but I must say just how impressed I was that you and the team carried it off.’
‘The Executive on that mission is currently undergoing torture in a Russian cell. I hope you will do everything to get him out.’
‘Of course. We are doing our best. You have my word on that.’
For once the sincerity in his voice overcame Sean’s natural cynicism. ‘What do you want?’
‘I need to fill you in on the bigger picture. Then you will understand what I am going to ask you to do.’
Howard Stern briefed Sean on the background of Russia’s declining income from oil and America’s ambitions for the high north. ‘Are you aware of the recent events in the Arctic, Sean?’
‘No. I’ve been busy.’
Stern chuckled and briefly sketched in developments. ‘Your assignment may impinge on the politics of the situation. The PM is meeting his American and Russian counterparts tomorrow as part of the annual energy summit. He perceives an opportunity to broker private peace talks between the two countries, so each can save face. But in order to get them to a private session he needs a lever. This is where you come in.’
‘I’m listening.’
There is a major problem with the nuclear power plant on board a Russian ship. We received an urgent request from the Americans.’ Stern paused. ‘The PM wants you to escort Khostov to the icebreaker where his expertise can be used to resolve the problem, and allow the Americans to continue with their rescue efforts.’
There was a long silence.
‘Sean, are you still there?’ Stern sounded worried.
‘Sir, do you appreciate what lengths we went to, to find Khostov and bring him back to the UK? Including returning to Russia for his 15-year-old son?’
‘I do.’
‘Do you know how many people died in this operation? The Russians murdered at least five people in the UK, including two innocent couples and my original Executive.’
‘Sean, I know all this. I wouldn’t be asking you directly if I didn’t think you were the man for the job. There’s something else you don’t know.’
‘Go on.’
‘The icebreaker is nuclear powered. Its reactor is about to go into meltdown. The resultant explosion will contaminate the whole of the Arctic for the next thirty years. And we’re running out of time.’
There was another long silence before Sean responded. ‘How much time have we got?’
‘Ten hours.’
Sean paused, feeling breathless and a little dizzy. The assignment sounded hugely complex with many unknown factors which could stop the mission in its tracks. He doubted if anyone could achieve success if they were given 48 hours, never mind 10.
‘Sean, I appreciate this is a huge undertaking. You are perfectly entitled to decline. We will find someone else to carry on. But I must have your answer now.’
The plane rocked as it descended, jolting Sean’s thoughts back to the present. ‘Do you have to deal with politicians in your country?’
‘Yes, unfortunately. I would advise you to stay clear, if you can.’
Sean scowled. ‘It’s already too late for that.’
The plane landed smoothly, and Khostov and Sean were driven across the airfield. As they approached the take-off runway, the driver pointed out the only aircraft standing ready on the tarmac. ‘There’s your transport!’
They couldn’t miss it. The A400M Atlas was huge, a military version of the commercial European Airbus.
‘It’s been fitted with additional tanks from a previous exercise. That more than doubles its normal range. Should see you OK for six and a half thousand kilometres.’
‘Will we have an escort?’ asked Sean. ‘I heard we could expect trouble at the other end.’
‘We’re sending two of the new Lightning II war birds. They won’t join you until later.’
‘Who is based here?’
‘617 squadron, sir. That’s the old Dambusters squadron, if you remember. They were disbanded a few years back, but reformed again last year.’ The driver glanced at Sean. ‘Don’t worry sir, you’ll be safe with them.’
He deposited them on the tarmac where they were greeted by the Load master for the Atlas. He walked them up the rear ramp of the plane, and pointed to a large pile of equipment.
‘Special Arctic clothing and parachutes. You can kit up when you’re in the air. We’ve been told to take off as soon as you arrive, so make yourself comfortable and strap in.’
President Pavla Duskin was the last to arrive in Vienna for the summit. Because of the mounting tension with the US he had decided to stay at the Russian embassy in Reisnerstrasse where he could use their secure communications facilities. His first task was to contact his deputy.
‘Dimitry, what is the position?’ The encrypted line was clear, with a slight hollow echo.
Dimitry sounded apologetic. ‘It appears that your orders have been countermanded, Pavla. One plane has attempted to bomb the American base on the ice.’
‘Who gave the order?’
‘Vice-Admiral Kostya Duboff. I have spoken to him. He says he gave LK-80 secret orders to proceed to the Lomonosov ridge. Were you aware of his plans to start a drilling operation there?’
‘Ah yes, I did know. But I’m surprised he brought the plan so far forward. I wasn’t expecting the project to begin until summer.’
‘He told me the drilling platforms were ready and he needed a presence on the ridge until they arrived. But he wouldn’t say why he countermanded your command.’
‘I suspect he was protecting his pet project. And now he’s sent a message to the Americans!’ Duskin chuckled. ‘I bet they’re buzzing about like hornets around a nest.’
Duskin’s predecessor planted a titanium flag on the sea bed above the Lomonosov ridge in 2007, claiming the territory for Russia. Duskin planned to follow through with a mining venture later. He knew the Arctic communities would object strongly, but he was in no mood to compromise. ‘How is progress with se
tting up a base?’
‘You may recall we re-established a military complex on the island of Kotelny a few years ago. It’s part of the North Siberian Islands. We’re strengthening the installation with aircraft and supplies.’
‘Why not closer to the icebreaker?’
‘There’s a storm in the area, Pavla. The Americans were able to lay their air strip before the depression moved in.’
Arctic Firepath (Sean Quinlan Book 2) Page 22