“We were talking earlier,” Michael said. “The other images, the ones from inside the plane, what if we just go for it, and let her see them all, try to explain to her in order what we think happened.”
“From a cop’s standpoint, I don’t like the part where we explain anything to anyone,” Montero said. “I always want to hear it from the witness.”
“You don’t trust her either,” Donovan said.
“It’s not so much that,” Montero said. “The Glock you found bothers me. I’ve also seen guilty people latch on to the first thing that makes them seem not guilty. For Sofya, I need to see it originate from within. That said, I’m not opposed to showing her the pictures, I just don’t want to offer much narrative.”
“I say give her an hour to sleep,” Donovan said. “You might also take a nap yourself, then wake her up and start again.”
Montero glanced at her watch. “What time are we going to land?”
“We’re going to land at twenty after ten in the morning, London time, which is exactly five and a half hours from now.”
“I’m not sure I can sleep. I thought I’d brew some coffee,” Montero said. “It’s going to be a long night.”
“I’d love some,” Donovan said. “Though in reality, it’s going to be a very short night. Flying east at six hundred miles per hour, the sun is going to come up well before we get to England.”
“Ugh.” Montero shook her head in disgust. “I hate that part of international travel.”
Donovan looked past Montero and noticed one of the science stations was lit up in the back of the Galileo. “Did you switch on the computers in back?”
“Yes, I thought I’d download everything from both cameras into the mainframe, just to have a backup. I also want to know if there’s even the smallest window of opportunity to use the Internet or the satellite phone. God, what I’d give for thirty minutes online. I feel like I’m working blind.”
“Get used to it.” Michael pointed out the windshield at the raging Northern Lights. “This is the most intense solar storm I’ve ever seen, and it’s forecast to get worse.”
“How are you able to talk to air traffic control?”
“Right now we’re over land. VHF radio works over short distances so we’re able to communicate with ATC that way. Once we’re out over the ocean, we’ll try to talk via our HF radios, though we’ve already been warned that it’s almost impossible at the moment.”
“What do we do then?”
“It’s like in the old days,” Donovan said. “We tell ATC what time and what altitude we’ll be over a known point, and they use that information to separate the traffic. Though as far north as we are, I can almost guarantee no one else is out here but us. Once we get within a couple of hundred miles of Ireland, we’ll be able to talk to ATC again.”
“Unless we have a problem before we get there,” Montero added. “What happens if we have an emergency or something?”
“Then it’s like it always is,” Donovan said. “We’re on our own.”
“Great,” Montero said and then turned away.
Donovan glanced at the instrument panel. He found that they’d picked up a tailwind and their ground speed was nearing six hundred fifty miles per hour. With the Aurora Borealis burning brightly above them, and the snow-covered ground visible below, he had the odd sensation that they were sandwiched in the only safe place available, positioned precisely between the frozen planet below and the raging solar storm above. He pictured how this scenery must have looked to his predecessors crossing the North Atlantic, first in wooden ships, and then in propeller airplanes like DC-3s and C-54s. As the captain of his own vessel crossing the ocean, he felt a kinship to all those who’d come before. The aroma of fresh coffee drifted forward, and he glanced over his shoulder, spotting Sofya sleeping curled up in a chair. All his thoughts vanished except her whispered warning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“HI, DMITRI,” MARTA said after she pushed the audio button on the phone that she’d taken from Viktor that would record the conversation. The old man opened one drugged eye at a time. “Remember me? We met in Berlin, at your nightclub. Tatiana wanted me to say hello.”
“Where am I?” Dmitri seemed distracted by his surroundings. When he inspected his bound hands, a look of confusion came over his face. He turned to look up at Marta and then at Lauren.
“Dmitri,” Lauren said. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine. What are we doing here?”
“We have a little problem. Our mutual friend in Moscow said you’d help us out,” Lauren said.
“Okay,” he said.
“It’s Sofya,” Lauren said as Marta held up one of the first pictures that Donovan had taken aboard the Galileo. “She’s finally dead, and our people said that you’d know what to do next?”
“She’s dead?” Dmitri studied the picture with hooded eyelids.
“Yes, you did want her dead, didn’t you?”
“Gregori does. We need to tell Gregori.”
“Tell me how to call Gregori, and we’ll tell him the good news. You’ll get all the credit instead of Tatiana.”
“I never call him, he only calls me.”
“I understand,” Lauren said. “Before she died, Sofya tried to tell us her mission, but we’re unclear. Gregori wanted us to try to insert another girl into place, one of ours. We’re working with Tatiana to find another girl to put in Sofya’s place, but we don’t have much time.”
“I don’t think so.” Dmitri shook his head. “That makes no sense. Sofya was a spy. We can’t run a double agent without knowing who she worked for. Did you find out? Do you know if she’d uncovered the secret?”
“She wasn’t clear,” Marta said. “She told us a great deal before she died, and we think she works for the British, but she was all over the place in terms of what she knew.”
“The British.” Dmitri said the words with a snarl. “We’ll see how smug those bastards are when the hammer and sickle is flying above Big Ben.”
“I agree,” Lauren replied with a conspiratorial grin. “Though if we could somehow pretend that Sofya was alive, and in Europe, we could see who tries to rescue her.”
“There’s no time.” Dmitri shook his head and tried to bring his wrist up to check his watch, seemingly confused once again by his arm being bound. “I don’t think anyone can stop Gregori now.”
“Stop him from what?”
“Victory.” Dmitri smiled as his head swayed from side to side and his eyelids seemed to grow heavy. “He will win, he always wins.”
“How?” Lauren asked. “Sofya told us, but we didn’t understand. How does he achieve victory?”
Dmitri opened his eyes and then his head lolled off to the side.
Lauren was about to throw the water in his face when she heard the unmistakable sound of Trevor spooling up the engines on the helicopter.
“We need to go,” Marta said as she pulled out a knife and quickly sliced through Dmitri’s bonds, releasing him. They pulled Dmitri to his feet and headed out the door, meeting Kristof on the lawn.
“Henryk spotted three cars coming fast. We need to hurry.” Kristof spoke in the darkness. “We should leave Dmitri.”
“No, he said there’s a plan in the works that puts the Soviet flag flying above London,” Marta said. “He also said that Sofya was a spy and someone named Gregori was in charge.”
Kristof said nothing and hurried the best he could to the helicopter and slid open the door. Marta and Lauren tumbled Dmitri onto the floor.
“What about Henryk?” Marta asked as she helped her father aboard.
“He’ll be fine,” Kristof replied, winded. “He’s taking Tatiana somewhere safe. We’ll leave her henchman to try to explain what happened to them.”
Seconds later, the rotor blades bit into the air and the Dauphin lifted free. Once they’d climbed above the trees, Trevor pivoted the helicopter and flew away from the headlights of the fast approaching vehicles.
&
nbsp; “Where to?” Trevor shouted over his shoulder.
Kristof looked down at Dmitri—the Russian’s eyes were closed as if sleeping. Kristof slapped him on each cheek until Dmitri finally opened his eyes. “It’s Kristof. Can you hear me?”
Looking disoriented, Dmitri’s eyes opened and jumped from face to face of the three people leaning over him.
“Dmitri,” Kristof said loud enough for Dmitri to fix his focus in his direction. “Gregori Petrov wants me to kill you. I don’t want to end you, my old friend. Why does he want you dead?”
Dmitri blinked heavily as tears formed in his eyes and started to roll down the wrinkled skin on his face. “I made mistakes. The girl may have been silenced too late. Death is inevitable. Gregori has big plans, and they never included me. I’m glad it’s you who kills me, Kristof. I will see you soon, no?”
Lauren felt as if she’d heard the name Petrov before, and even though Dmitri was completely severed from reality, he’d uttered the one name that brought a brief flash of concern to Kristof’s face.
Lauren pulled on a headset and the moment Marta put hers on, Lauren asked, “Who is this Petrov?”
“Gregori Petrov is a hard-line communist who publicly hated Gorbachev for giving in to the West,” Kristof said. “Over the years, Petrov has capitalized on the collapse of the Soviet Union by assembling a massive fortune from oil leases he stole. From there, he acquired arms and aircraft manufacturing concerns—always weapons, always making more money, but his open contempt for the West was always present. Petrov is the one man in Russia who has both the hatred and the money to try to topple the Russian government.”
“How long do the drugs we gave Dmitri last?” Lauren asked.
“He’ll be this way for another two hours before they start to wear off,” Marta said. “What are you thinking?”
“Remember the e-mail from Calvin, suggesting that I turn myself in to the nearest embassy?” She turned to face Kristof as he donned his own headset. “I’m thinking we go back to Berlin and turn Dmitri over. I’ll go with him.”
“What can the Americans do?” Marta asked.
“I’m not talking about them. If Dmitri knows of a plot to topple the Russian government,” Lauren said, “who better to interrogate him than the Russians?”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Marta said. “We kidnapped a senior SVR agent, flew him out of Berlin, drugged him, and now you think the best plan is to deliver him back to the Russians? What are you going to say, ‘Hey, you guys need to hear this’?”
“Yes,” Lauren said. “I’ll turn myself in with him and explain what has taken place. I don’t think they have any reason to harm me, but you have to promise to alert William to where I am.”
“Remember what Dmitri said when he met you,” Kristof said. “He thanked you and Donovan for your peacekeeping efforts and thanked you on behalf of the Russian people. Even considering the source, the words contain an element of truth. I think this could work, and I’m coming with you.”
“No!” Marta snapped, clearly angry. “Dad, they’ll kill you. They might even kill Lauren. None of us are going to the Russian embassy, it’s insane!”
“I have a few things the Russians want,” Kristof said. “I also know all of the players and can probably expedite a few things that Lauren can’t. If Petrov is the man behind all of this, then we need help. I won’t deny that it’s risky, but in a clever way, an arms dealer and a DIA analyst might have the best chance to put an end to all of this.”
“It’ll be the end all right,” Marta said, but she shook her head as if in pure disbelief.
“What’s Dmitri’s reaction going to be when he finds he’s in the Russian embassy?” Lauren asked. “And will they listen to us?”
“I don’t know if the phone recorded anything once we got on the helicopter, but I have the dialogue from the house,” Marta said. “It might help get them interested.”
“Let’s ask him,” Lauren said as she reached down and gently slapped Dmitri’s face until he opened his eyes. As before, he seemed to need a minute to orient himself. “Dmitri, we have some good news. We’re taking you to the Russian embassy in Berlin—you’ll be safe there.”
“No!” Dmitri yelled and tried to sit up, his arms flailing as he struggled to raise himself up.
“Dmitri,” Kristof said as Marta pinned his arms to the floor. “Why don’t you want to go to the embassy?”
“I can’t,” Dmitri said, wild-eyed. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous, how?” Kristof asked. “Dmitri, what is so dangerous about the embassy?”
“War,” Dmitri said as his eyes closed and his head slumped back and hit the floor.
Lauren felt Dmitri’s pulse. His heart was beating, but it was weak. “He’s alive, but he’s an old man, I hope he’ll hold together.”
“I’m still flying in a great big circle, burning fuel,” Trevor reminded them.
“I don’t like Dmitri’s choice of words.” Lauren frowned. “War wasn’t what I expected him to say.”
Marta turned toward Trevor. “We need to fly to Berlin, to the Russian embassy. Do you know where it is?”
“They’re all lined up in a row. It’d be hard to miss,” Trevor said as he immediately banked to the northwest.
“How long until we’re there?” Marta asked.
“Quick and dirty, drawing attention to ourselves, maybe thirty minutes,” Trevor said. “If you want a little stealth and finesse, make it forty-five.”
“I vote quick and dirty. We might as well let them know we’re coming,” Lauren said. “Though we still need to figure out what the two of you can do once you drop us off.”
“I have an idea,” Marta said. “Trevor, will you be able to let the three of them out on the roof of the Russian embassy, or are we going to have to use the hoist?”
“Rooftop,” Trevor replied.
“What about this?” Marta said. “You drop me off in the park across from Tatiana’s club. I’d love to get a better look around that place, and what better time than in the chaos after our earlier visit, especially when the same helicopter returns to the neighborhood. From there, it’s what, maybe two or three minutes flying time to the Russian embassy. After that, Trevor, you fly straight to the British embassy and surrender.”
“I like the plan right up until I surrender,” Trevor said over his shoulder. “With my night-vision goggles, I can maneuver fast enough to make my escape, and then land somewhere and walk away. Kristof, I’m sorry in advance about ditching your chopper.”
“Don’t worry about the helicopter,” Kristof replied as he patted his shirt pocket and produced a pen. “Does anyone have a piece of paper?”
“Here you go.” Trevor handed a notepad over his shoulder.
Kristof balanced the pad on his knee and began to write, then glanced up at Lauren. “Come sit with me. I want to discuss some things with you before we arrive.”
Lauren listened as Kristof leaned in and spoke directly into her ear. Dmitri still appeared unconscious, and Marta, who lived in a world of whispered secrets, seemed not to care.
“I wrote a number on this piece of paper,” Kristof said. “It’s the number of dollars I’ll accept for my business. The quickest way to get the Russians to listen is for me to explain my past dealings with Dmitri, dealings that Moscow would love to stop but can’t, unless they buy me out.”
“Would you really do that?” Lauren asked. “What about Marta?”
“She’s already a very wealthy woman. The amount she’d receive in the sale would almost triple that fortune,” Kristof said. “Then maybe I’ll feel better about her future. She can make her own decisions about her life, like I did, like we all did.”
“What did you learn from your time with Trevor?” Lauren asked, both surprised and impressed with Kristof for finding such a bold solution for the questions that had been plaguing him about his daughter’s future. Once again she understood why this man and Donovan were such close friends.
> “He’s a brave man, and he loves my daughter for who she is, not for the collection of lies and deceptions we’re both forced to live. He explained that he’d wanted to talk to me for some time about his feelings for her, but was deferring to Marta as to when she thought the time was right. He’s very perceptive as well as sensitive, and he suggested that with my health being a consideration, that for Marta’s and my sake, sooner may be better than later.”
“Is he right?”
“Hard to tell. I’m glad he found the courage to say what he did. If I can send my daughter off into the world with money, options, and a man she seems to care about, and who cares about her, then I could die a happy man.”
“Don’t die yet,” Lauren said. “There are other girls who love and need you, and could benefit from your wisdom.”
“Abigail.” Kristof smiled at the thought.
“And me.”
“Everyone hang on,” Trevor said. “It’s time to start down, after which we’re going to be evasive and fly really fast.”
Trevor dropped the helicopter down on the deck, his night-vision goggles allowing him to thread below the tops of trees, over power lines, between chimneys, confusing any radar operator that tried to lock in on them. When they reached the taller buildings, he flew the Dauphin toward central Berlin like he was on a giant slalom course. Marta leaned forward, kissed Trevor on the cheek, then pulled on her hat and gloves and crouched near the door.
Lauren held on as they burst from the forest of buildings and Trevor banked steeply over the park while slowing. He descended rapidly into a clearing surrounded by trees, checked his descent until he was hovering only three feet above the ground. In a blast of noise and cold air, Marta jumped to the ground. Kristof left the door open as Trevor powered upward and out of the park, pivoting the machine sharply and then roaring forward as they headed toward Embassy Row.
Lauren moved to Dmitri’s left side; Kristof was on the right.
“This needs to be quick. Be ready,” Trevor shouted.
Lauren watched out the open door as the trees of the park vanished. They crossed a boulevard with light traffic, and then below them was the Holocaust memorial, the rows of huge monoliths a tribute to the millions of departed souls. Seconds later, Trevor brought the Dauphin to a motionless hover over a stained and cracked roof, with ducts and vents dotting the surface. Lauren ignored the brutal cold from the rotor wash and jumped out, holding onto Dmitri. Kristof followed, and together they lowered the drugged Russian to the concrete as Trevor climbed and banked away. The sound of the rotor blades faded, replaced by the shouts of armed men pointing automatic weapons, motioning for them to lay on their stomachs and put their arms behind them.
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