Craig stood at the end of the platform amidst a carpet of people cowering around him. He glanced back, saw his three pursuers standing half a platform away, then stumbled over the people around him and jumped off the platform onto the rails. He scrambled to his feet and ran into the darkness of the tunnel. On the platform, his pursuers pushed towards the tracks, trampling anyone in their way.
Nogorev was the first to jump down onto the tracks and run towards the train tunnel. He didn’t see Corman, Harriman and Rogers run down the stairs, barging against the tide of people fleeing the platform. A US embassy listening post had detected Valentina’s radio signal, sending them speeding towards the Metro station. Soon after entering the station, they heard Nogorev’s gun fire, and had raced towards it.
When they’d almost reached the bottom of the stairs, the nearest of the Spetsnaz troopers yelled a harsh warning at them in Russian. Harriman didn’t understand, but Corman did. Without hesitation, Corman drew a silenced gun and fired two shots in quick succession.
Commuters cowering nearby screamed as the other Spetsnaz trooper turned to see his companion go down. He brought his gun up fast, but Corman turned and fired twice more, sending the trooper falling back onto a woman who screamed hysterically as blood splashed her cloths.
Corman stopped at the foot of the stairs and yelled in perfect Russian, “State Security! Everyone out! Now!”
Hundreds of people, who’d just seen Corman shoot dead two armed men, surged towards the stairs, giving him and his two companions a wide berth.
“You didn’t have to shoot those men,” Harriman whispered.
“He told us to go back, or he’d kill us,” Corman replied in a low tone.
“He’s right,” Rogers said as he produced his own weapon.
“There’s one left,” Corman said. “He ran into the tunnel.”
“I saw him from the top of the stairs,” Harriman said. “He’s the hit man I saw in New York!”
Corman produced his backup gun and offered it to Harriman. “Then you’re going to need this.”
“I’m not authorized to carry a weapon here.”
“You think I am?” Corman pushed the gun into Harriman’s hand.
Harriman took the gun, expertly checked the load, then the three men jumped down onto the tracks and ran into the train tunnel.
* * * *
Valentina reached the foot of the stairs, shocked to see the two dead Spetsnaz troopers lying in pools of their own blood on the platform.
“How’d Balard get a gun?” Karmanov wondered, thinking Craig had killed both men.
“He must be in the tunnel,” Fenenko said, certain they would have seen Craig if he’d tried to escape up the stairs.
“Check that side,” Karmanov waved Valentina towards the tunnel on the left as he ran to the tunnel on the right.
Fenenko waited while Valentina and Karmanov moved into the tunnels, then searched the pockets of the nearest Spetsnaz trooper. He found no identification, but took the man’s radio and slipped the speaker into his ear.
“. . . He’s heading north,” Nogorev said over a weakening signal. “Cover the platform in case Balard doubles back.”
“On our way,” came a voice on a much stronger signal.
“The helo will take us to the next station up the line,” another voice said. “We’ll trap him in the tunnel.”
Fenenko looked towards the tracks, ensuring both Karmanov and Valentina had moved into the tunnels. He activated the microphone. “Identify yourself.”
There was a pause, then Nogorev’s voice sounded through crackling interference. “This is Emergency Committee business. Who are you?”
“Federal Security Service,” Fenenko said cautiously.
“What are you doing here?” Nogorev demanded as he fired at Craig’s distant silhouette.
Fenenko hesitated. If the Emergency Committee really were in control of the country, then they would also now control the Federal Security Service, the FSB, the organization responsible for internal security. If so, this man might very well represent the new power in Russia. “Investigating illegal SK activities.”
“What’s your name?” Nogorev asked.
“I can’t give you that over this radio. Two of your men on the platform are dead. I have one of their transmitters.”
Valentina reappeared at the tunnel entrance turned and yelled. “Over here. I saw a muzzle flash!”
A moment later, Karmanov jogged out of the other tunnel. Fenenko quickly pocketed the ear piece and transmitter, then jumped down onto the tracks as Karmanov passed him. Before they could catch Valentina, she vanished into the tunnel’s darkness.
Karmanov cursed silently, and raced after her. “Valentina, wait!”
* * * *
Craig ran alongside the gently curving subway wall. Several times, he’d heard gun shots echo through the tunnel, and a bullet strike the rock face close behind him. He could hear boots crunching on the crushed stone ballast lying between the tracks as Nogorev raced to close the distance between them. He knew the weak lights set far apart on the walls gave off just enough light to silhouette him, which would soon make him an easy target.
He glanced back, checking that the curve of the tunnel hid him from Nogorev, then slipped into a narrow passage running across to the southbound tunnel. Once in the other tunnel, he hid behind the wall and waited as Nogorev’s heavy footsteps passed the narrow passage. When the crunching of crushed stones had faded, he crept back towards the station, hoping to throw off his pursuer by doubling back.
When he reached the next passage back to the other tunnel, he listened for signs of pursuit. Multiple footsteps grew louder, then Corman and Rogers ran past after Nogorev’s fleeting form. Craig prepared to run back to the station when he noticed a man watching him, silhouetted by the tunnel lights.
“Don’t move,” Harriman ordered, ensuring Craig saw the gun in his hand, then he spoke into a small radio. “Corman, I’ve got him. He’s in the other tunnel.”
“On my way!”
A mechanical squeal filled the tunnel from a train braking as it entered the long curve leading into the station. The tunnel walls began to glow with a ghostly illumination cast by the train’s large head light.
“Harriman?” Craig said, confused, recognizing the detective from the night McCormack had been killed. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Harriman replied over the roar of the approaching train. A single gunshot rang out, and the detective’s left leg buckled under him. He fell onto the tracks, stunned to discover a bullet had passed clean through his leg. He lifted the radio and wheezed, “Officer down!”
Craig spun around to see Nogorev walking quickly toward him, starkly silhouetted by the approaching train behind him. He missed me! he thought, then realized Nogorev had hit the target he’d been aiming for, and that he still wanted him alive.
Craig ran to Harriman. “Can you walk?”
“No, but I can bleed good!”
The radio hissed with Corman’s voice. “Shoot him, Harriman. That’s an order!”
Craig looked at the radio in Harriman’s hand and the gun in the other.
“You hear me Harriman?” Corman yelled. “Do it now, while you can! This station will be crawling with their people any minute.”
The train came rumbling up behind Nogorev, forcing him to dart into a side access tunnel. Harriman turned towards the train anxiously, realizing he was about to be run down.
Craig kicked the gun out of his hand and dragged him to the tunnel wall. “I never killed anyone!” he yelled over the noise of the approaching train.
“I know,” Harriman said, pressing his hand against the wound.
“If you’re alive,” the radio squealed, “shoot him!”
Harriman glanced at his gun lying a few meters away, unconcerned that it was out of reach. Craig realized the detective would not have shot him, then he darted across the tracks as the train rumbled toward them. For a moment, their ey
es met, Harriman grateful he’d been saved, Craig desperate to escape, then the train flashed between them. The carriages rumbled past, slowing as they approached the station, then suddenly the train had passed, revealing the far side of the tracks were now empty.
“Harriman,” Corman’s voice yelled from the radio. “Did you get Balard?”
Harriman lifted the radio to his lips, “No. He’s gone,” he said weakly as his head began to spin.
* * * *
Fenenko allowed Karmanov to pull ahead, then fitted the ear piece again, hearing Nogorev say, “He’s on the south bound train, heading back towards the station.”
Valentina stood listening to distant footsteps and the approaching train on the other track as Karmanov caught her.
“They could have changed tunnels,” she said. “You keep going, I’ll check the other side.” Without waiting for him to agree, she darted into an access passage.
“I don’t want us splitting up in here!” Karmanov yelled as she disappeared into the darkness.
Fenenko pocketed the radio and jogged towards the side passage. “I’ll go with her,” he called to Karmanov, then slipped into the side tunnel before the Chief Investigator could object.
Once in the side passage, Fenenko whispered into the Spetsnaz radio, “One SK officer is in the south bound tunnel, the other is in the north bound.” He stepped cautiously into the south bound tunnel as the passenger train slowed to a crawl for its entry into the metro station. “I see the train.”
“You’re under my orders now,” Nogorev said. “Get on that train.”
Fenenko suppressed his irritation at this unknown operative giving him orders, but suspected he was dealing with someone who had the authority to command him. “Understood.”
He saw Valentina stand against the tunnel wall as the train reached her, then he readied himself as it approached him. He let it pass, then ran out after it. It was moving barely more than walking speed, allowing him to catch it easily. Valentina heard Fenenko’s footsteps, and turned to see him jump up onto the rear carriage and enter the train. Thinking he’d seen Craig, she immediately raced after the train.
Inside the rear carriage, Fenenko held the microphone to his lips. “I’m on board.”
“I want Balard alive,” Nogorev’s fading transmission came back. “Under no circumstances kill him.”
The rear door opened and Valentina entered the carriage. Fenenko slid the radio into his pocket, ensuring she never saw it.
“Did you see him?” she asked.
“No, I’m just being careful.”
“Good idea,” she said, pushing past him, eager to search the train before Craig had a chance to get off. The train pulled into the station, now deserted except for the two dead Spetsnaz lying on the platform. Already hours late, the train stopped for barely a minute before moving off.
Together, Valentina and Fenenko pushed through the overcrowded carriages. Valentina flashed her ID to passengers, ordering them aside so they could get through. They moved through three carriages, then Valentina turned to Fenenko and nodded to a man peering nervously through a window, hiding his face. “That’s him.”
Valentina pocketed her ID and quietly squeezed between the passengers to where Craig stood with his back to her. When she was behind him, she saw his face reflecting in the glass window. “You’re a difficult man to find, Mr Balard.”
Craig froze momentarily, looking for an escape, but when he saw Fenenko’s reflection, he knew he was trapped. “What now?”
“You know what,” Valentina said meaningfully.
“They know I’m on this train.”
“We’ll protect you, for a price.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“I’m not going to kill you after you give me the money. They will.” Valentina motioned for him to follow, leading him through several cars to the guard’s compartment. She stepped inside and silenced the guard’s protest with her SK Identity Card. “Where is this train going?”
“Moscow Central,” the guard replied.
“We need your compartment.” She turned to Craig. “Sit down. Pavlya, keep an eye on the corridor.” She motioned to the guard. “You go with him. Don’t let anyone in here.”
“I have to get authorization from my superiors,” the guard objected.
“There’s no time for that. I’m sure you know Sledkom has the authority to issue instructions to other government departments. This is one of those instructions.”
The guard’s complexion reddened, then he sullenly followed Fenenko out into the narrow passageway. Fenenko pointed at the carriage door. “Stand there,” he said before moving out of earshot.
The guard began furtively sipping from a flask of vodka hidden in his coat while Fenenko placed the speaker in his ear and listened while the train entered the next station. This station’s platform thronged with angry commuters, most of whom had no chance of squeezing into the already overcrowded carriages. When the train pulled into the subway tunnel, a new voice sounded from the tiny speaker.
“We’re on the train. We know where you are. Stay with Balard at all times. The mission commander has decided not to arrest him. Balard has information we want, which he may surrender voluntarily.”
“I understand,” Fenenko said, glancing down the corridor towards passengers squeezed in like sardines, wondering who among them was his contact. When he couldn’t spot anyone watching him, he hid the radio and slipped into the compartment.
“The guard is just outside, getting drunk,” he said, locking the door. “No security people got on at the last station.”
“Thanks Pavlya.” Valentina said, turning back to Craig. “We both know you gave me false information in England.”
“You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain,” he said with no attempt at pretence. “And I didn’t give you anything. You took it.”
“Do you still have the master list?”
“No. I have the money. All of it.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s in a safe place.”
“I assume you have no intention of keeping it for yourself?”
“All I want is the truth about my father,” Craig said. “The whole file, and you can have your stinking money.”
“Out of the question. Your father is dead. He has to be, but I cannot prove it to you. Especially not now!” She knew the coup had made any chance of a deal impossible. Fear and suspicion would drive any informant away now.
“If you can’t show me his file, show me his grave!”
Valentina stared at Craig for a long time before answering. “Do you know what is happening in this country?”
Craig looked out of the window at the black tunnel walls speeding past. “I haven’t exactly been watching CNN lately.”
“There’s a coup d’état under way. The President is under house arrest, the Prime Minister is hiding, and the military control the streets.”
Craig gave her a surprised look, remembering the armored column he’d seen driving into the city. So that’s what that was! “So which side are you on?” he asked.
“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were,” Valentina replied, “but the country is bankrupt. It’s vulnerable. The money you control can solve that.”
Fenenko stood up, certain the exchange would not resolve itself soon. “I’ll check outside,” he said and slipped out.
The train guard was still leaning against the wall with his flask, looking a little drunker than before. Fenenko retrieved the radio from his pocket, and whispered, “Are you there?”
“We’re listening,” the voice came back immediately.
“He wants to make a deal,” he said, then outlined Craig’s demands.
There were several seconds of silence before his controller spoke. “We’ve relayed your report. Standby.”
Fenenko studied the faces in the carriage, but no one paid him the least attention. The train passed through several more stations, then he spoke impatiently into t
he microphone. “When we reach Moscow Central, we’ll be getting off. What do you want me to do?”
The voice came back, “We’re still waiting. Standby.”
He forced himself to relax by counting down the stations until the train terminated. When there were just two stations remaining, the calm, controlling voice sounded again.“We have received instructions. This is what you will do.”
* * * *
When Karmanov was certain no one was ahead of him, he crossed into the south bound tunnel and hurried back towards the metro station. He expected to encounter Valentina and Fenenko coming to meet him, but instead he discovered three men, one lying wounded by the tracks.
“Who are you?” Karmanov asked in Russian as Rogers wrapped his neck tie around Harriman’s leg as a makeshift pressure bandage.
Corman recognized the chief criminal investigator from his photograph in the embassy briefing. “American diplomats. We need an ambulance, Mr Karmanov.”
Karmanov showed only momentary surprise at being recognized. “Who shot you?” he asked in heavily accented English.
“I didn’t see his face,” Harriman replied. “He ran into a side tunnel.”
Harriman’s gun lying on the tracks, briefly caught Karmanov’s eye. “Who do you work for? CIA?”
“It’s a long story,” Corman replied, not denying his suspicions.
Karmanov used his radio to call for assistance. “Help will be here soon.”
“Thanks,” Harriman said relieved.
“What is your connection with Craig Balard?” Karmanov asked. “I’m no fool, so do not try my patience with lies.”
“I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing,” Corman said, then introduced himself, Rogers and Harriman. “Considering your attack on the safe house this morning, I know you’re not working for the Emergency Committee. The question is, who are you working for?”
The Kremlin Phoenix Page 16