The Distant Chase

by Cap Daniels

  I joined Clark and Norikova beside a hangar sheltered from the driving wind. She was standing on one foot, smoking a cigarette, while he stood just beyond her with his Glock in one hand and a boot in the other.

  I liked the way he played good cop. He let her have a cigarette and some fresh air, and had even been kind enough to provide her with boots, but he wasn’t taking any chances of her turning into a rabbit and jetting off into the German countryside. If the Glock didn’t stop her, wearing one boot in subfreezing conditions would.

  “Smoking will kill you,” I said.

  “I think probably you will kill me first.”

  “It’s possible. Now let’s get back on the bus. It’s time to go.”

  She locked eyes with me, dropped her cigarette to the tarmac, and then ground it out with the ball of her bare foot.

  “You don’t have to convince me you’re tough. I’d much rather you convince me you’re smart and start cooperating with me. I’m taking you home. To your home. The least you could do is pretend to be happy about that.”

  “Why would I be happy to go home? A disgraced agent who failed her only mission? I will be punished. Going home for me is torture.”

  Her response intrigued me and left me with more than a few questions, but I’d have to save them for a more strategic point in time.

  Back on the airplane, Norikova asked, in English, if she could sit in one of the airline-type seats on the passenger pallet. I agreed, but laced a nylon cord through her waist chains and fastened it around the seat back so she couldn’t stand and do her best to kill everyone on the airplane.

  I stuck a piece of gum toward her mouth. “Here, chew this. You smell like an ashtray.”

  She opened her mouth and took the gum, allowing my fingers to slide between her lips. She could have easily bitten to the bone, but she slowly let my fingers slip from her mouth, and she let out a sound that would send most men to their knees. She was an unmistakable study in extreme contrasts. Her physical beauty and sensuality were breathtaking, but her utter disdain and hatred for the freedoms and indulgences I’d dedicated my life to preserving left a dangerous, contemptuous core inside the body of one of the most beautiful women alive. I was fascinated by her, but not remotely tempted.

  “Please don’t do that again,” I said, determined to avoid the cruelty Clark had warned me was unnecessary.

  “YA ponimayu, pochemu Anastasiya tak naslazhdalas’ svoim zadaniyem.”

  I was unsure if she was speaking Russian in defiance of my order, or if it was an innocent oversight.

  “Forgive me,” she said, appearing embarrassed. “English is not sometimes so good for me. I mean to say, it is easy to know why Anastasia enjoyed pretending to love you. I think maybe she did not have to pretend. I think maybe for you it is first instinct to be kind, and to be cruel is not so easy for you.”

  I was being played by an actress of the highest skill. She’d been trained and conditioned to morph into whatever her intended victim wanted and desired. She was a master of her craft. It seemed to run in the family.

  “You’re wrong about me,” I said. “It isn’t my nature to be kind. I want to throw you out the back of this airplane. It takes every ounce of self-control I can muster to let you continue to live. Don’t fool yourself into thinking I’m anything less than the man who represents everything you hate. I’ll deliver you back to the Kremlin, not because I think you deserve the privilege of going home, but because it’s my duty. I will not make sacrifices to make you more comfortable, nor will I play along with your silly games.”

  “I am not playing games. I know position I am in, and also you. You think my father will trade to you the life of Anastasia if you will give to him me, yes?”

  I knew better than to get suckered into a conversation with her, but I had to know where she was going with that question.

  “I think your father will do anything in his power to get his daughter back, including releasing a political prisoner.”

  She locked eyes with me. “You are on fool’s errand if that is what you believe. My father’s men will kill you, and his—I do not know English word—soldaty will come for me.”

  “Soldier,” I said. “The English word is soldier, but I don’t think we need to worry about that. Daddy dearest may kill me, but if he does, you’ll be dead long before his soldaty can get to you. You see, we’re pretty good at this cloak-and-dagger stuff. If I don’t check in at the allotted time every few hours, your body will find its way to the bottom of the Baltic Sea, and life will go on without both of us.”

  “What is cloak and dagger?” she asked, feigning both innocence and ignorance.

  I wondered if it was possible for her to answer any of my questions honestly. Clark was watching us intently.

  “Does Anya know you’ve been running around pretending to be her?”

  She furrowed her brow. “Anastasia does not know of me. She has never seen me, but I have seen her. It is like looking to mirror. She is beautiful, yes?”

  My mind raced, trying to piece together the scene. I couldn’t imagine an intelligence service creating a nearly identical agent solely for the purpose of making them interchangeable, but not training them side by side. How could Norikova move, sound, and behave like Anya if they’d never trained together? Perhaps the genetics were enough. From across the room, I doubt I could tell them apart, and I knew Anya’s mannerisms and body as well as anyone on Earth. Although they were practically twins, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t smitten with Norikova the way I was with Anya the first time I saw her atop the water tower in New York.

  Seeming to sense my uncertainty, she said, “Why did you kill Colonel Tornovich?”

  “He planned an operation specifically designed to destroy my life and the lives of people I care about very deeply. He used Anya like a worthless pawn and lied to her about her own father for twenty years. He attacked my country, and me personally. No one gets to do that and survive.”

  “I did not attack you, but you say you want to throw me from airplane. I did for you things to help you.”

  I shook my head. “What have you ever done to help me?”

  “I killed Michael Parchinkov on island to save life of your friend, Elizabeth. I went to bedside of Robert Richter to comfort him before he died.”

  “Michael Parchinkov?”

  “Yes, is his Russian name. In United States, he is Michael Anderson.”

  I kept shaking my head. “You didn’t go to comfort Dr. Richter. You went to kill him.”

  “No. He is father of my sister. She is traitor to Russia, but to me, she is still sister. She feels love for him, and when there is love, there is comfort in being together. For my sister, I give comfort to her father at end of life.”

  Nothing was making sense. Either she was luring me into believing she was honorable so I’d lower my guard, or she was the most screwed-up person who’d ever lived. I couldn’t trust anything about her.

  “It’s not going to work,” I said.

  “What is not going to work?”

  “You’re very smart, and even more manipulative. I’m not getting sucked into your trap. You’re an SVR intelligence officer. Deception, disinformation, and assassination are what you do. Every word and every action are designed to achieve your goal, and I’m not green enough to fall prey to your game.”

  “Is no game, Chasechka.” She slowly blinked and lowered her head. “I am sorry. I will not call you that name again. Is no game, sir. I am going home to be no more your prisoner. I do not have to manipulate you to get what I want. You are giving to me.”

  It was time for me to gain the upper hand. “Okay, then. If you’re not playing a game, then answer some of my questions.”

  She glared straight into my eyes. “I will not break trust of my country, but I will answer if possible.”

  “Was that you or Anya at the safe house in Virginia?”

  “It was both,” she said quickly.

  “Both? What do you mean, both?�
��

  “Your CIA was holding my sister at safe house, but we came for her. I was to be changed with her, but she escaped into forest. We captured her in forest and take her clothes for me. Your CIA found me and took back to safe house. Anastasia was taken away to prison in Russia.”

  “Wait,” I said, holding up a hand. “Just wait a minute.”

  I waved Clark over. “You’ve got to hear this. She says Anya escaped from the safe house and into the woods in Virginia before we got there, and the SVR had a team capture Anya and exchange her for Norikova.”

  Clark cocked his head. “So, you’re telling me the guards didn’t know you weren’t Anya?”

  Norikova set her gaze between the two of us. “That was plan, but I did not know names and routine. That is why I had to kill them in upstairs.”

  I locked eyes with Clark, and it was clear we were having the same stroll down memory lane of discovering the murdered CIA safe house babysitters piled in the attic.

  “Did you steal the airplane?”

  “It was not airplane. It was helicopter. And yes, I take.”

  My clever attempt at tripping her up on the details didn’t work. Maybe she was telling the truth.

  “Okay,” I said, “why did you kill Michael Anderson…or Parchinkov?”

  He was going to kill your friend and then kill you. I could not let him kill you. It was my duty to get to you to continue what my sister started.”

  I decided to change gears. “So, you know your sister is in prison, then.”

  “Yes, I know this. This is for me sad, but is necessary. She is traitor.”

  “What made her a traitor?” I asked.

  “Is same for United States, same for you. She tells to CIA what she is doing. If you tell to SVR or FSB what you are doing, is traitor to United States. Is same, yes?”

  “So, the Kremlin thinks Anya surrendered to the U.S. Is that what you’re telling us?”

  “Yes, she turn from Russia for you and defect.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You think she defected to the U.S.?”

  “I do not think this. This is truth. This is what she did. That is why I say she maybe was not pretending to love you. Maybe, I think, she does love you, and for me, is easy to see why. You are not like him.” She flicked her chin toward Clark. “He is killer who pretends to be kind. You are kind and pretend to be killer.”

  I sprang to my feet. “I’ve heard enough.”

  Clark and I settled back into our seats at the other end of the plane.

  “Don’t let her get inside your head, man. That’s what she does. Every word she says, true or not, is designed to manipulate you. And I can see it’s working.” He tapped his finger to my temple. “Do not let her in there.”

  Chapter 15

  Upgrade

  We landed in Helsinki and stepped off the plane into a frozen world of darkness. The wind carried a thousand tiny razors that tore at every inch of exposed flesh, and I never wanted to be back in the Florida sun so badly. The airport was almost completely dark, and that didn’t make sense.

  “Is this the international airport?” I asked Clark as we peered through the darkness.

  “Definitely not. This must be Helsinki-Malmi.”

  “I should’ve paid more attention in Nordic Geography class.”

  “Maybe you should look at a map every now and then,” he said.

  I ignored him and powered up my sat-phone. Three minutes later, Ginger answered with no pleasantries. “I’ve got good news. Our babysitter is in place, but he’s not in the place we thought. It’s much better.”

  “Hello to you, too,” I said.

  “There’s no time for that. I see you’re at Malmi. That’s great. Your ride will be there shortly. I’ve arranged with the Finnish Border Guards to have someone pick you up and take you to the port where you’ll meet Jurek Josephson. He’ll take you to the babysitter.”

  “The Finnish Border Guards? Are you serious? I can’t imagine they’d jump at the chance to get involved in this.”

  “Are you kidding?” she said. “They love any opportunity to stick it to the Russians.”

  “Okay, so where are we meeting the babysitter?”

  “That’s the best part. The reason he disappeared was so he could find a spot to hold your girlfriend with no chance of her escaping.”

  “She’s anything but my girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, well, whatever she is, she’s a flight risk, and we’ve found the perfect spot to diminish that risk. In the Gulf of Riga is Ruhnu Island, and there’s only a handful of people there. Satellite imagery suggests there’s less than fifty who actually go outside.”

  “Okay, go on.”

  “Pierre will be waiting for you at the ferry dock at the south end of the island. He’s got just the spot for Goldilocks. His sat-phone number is programmed into yours. Oh, and the Finnish Border Guards are probably going to speak a lot better Russian than English, so keep that in mind.”

  “Thanks, Ginger. Where’s Skipper?”

  “Taking a nap. She’s been awake for almost two days.”

  “How’s she handling all of this?”

  “Like an old pro. She’s a natural. You’ve got a good one on your hands. Oh, and speaking of good ones, how much can we tell Penny?”

  I smiled. “Tell her I said to start picking out names for her black lab puppy.” I disconnected and powered down the phone just as an SUV came to a stop near the door of the C-130. I quickly briefed Clark on the conversation with Ginger and headed for the plane.

  Two extremely Scandinavian-looking young men stepped from the truck and introduced themselves in broken English.

  I shook each of their hands, and in Russian I said, “Thank you for your help tonight.”

  Their eyes lit up at discovering a common language, and relief poured across their faces. Their night just got a lot easier.

  I explained that I needed to get my prisoner to the ferry terminal. “We’ve got a long, cold boat ride ahead of us to Ruhnu Island.”

  The guard raised his eyebrows in utter disbelief. “Ruhnu? On a boat? With a prisoner?”

  “Unfortunately,” I said, “that’s the best we could arrange on short notice.”

  He looked at his partner, and they shrugged.

  The first guard turned back to me. “What if I can get you a helicopter to Ruhnu?”

  “If you can get us a helicopter, we’ll be in your debt for the rest of our lives.”

  “Your prisoner is Russian?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “In that case,” he said, “I can get you a helicopter, but in return, I would like to speak with your prisoner…alone.”

  I was instantly skeptical. “I’m not sure you’d get anything meaningful out of her. She’s not what you would call cooperative.”

  “Her? Your prisoner is a Russian woman?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “Are you going to give her back to the Russians by chance?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “If they give me what I want.”

  He grinned. “In that case, I must speak with her. If you will give me just five minutes alone with her, I will have your helicopter here in twenty minutes.”

  I turned to Clark, who bobbed his head in agreement.

  “Done,” I said.

  The man snapped his fingers at his partner, and the younger man climbed back into the truck and stuck the radio microphone to his lips.

  The Israeli pilots came down the ladder as the border guard and I approached the plane. The look of uncertainty on their faces told me they weren’t interested in having the Finnish Border Guard on their airplane.

  “He needs to speak with our guest,” I said, hoping they’d change their minds.

  The pilots didn’t appear to understand a word I’d said. It occurred to me that I was still speaking Russian, and I told them what was going on, this time in English.

  Both pilots shook their heads.

  Daniel said, “I’m sorry, but we cannot
do that on the aircraft. You can unload your gear and your guest, but I can’t allow this man aboard my aircraft.”

  I didn’t fully understand the reason for his adamance, but I had no standing to argue. He’d just given me a ride that would have been almost impossible without him and his airplane, so I didn’t put up a fight. We unloaded our gear and walked Norikova from the plane.

  She asked Clark for another cigarette, but instead of complying, he tucked her into the back seat of the Border Guard vehicle. The guard motioned for us to load our gear in the back, and he slid onto the seat beside Norikova.

  Five minutes later, he returned, red-faced and obviously furious.

  “I warned you,” I said.

  He scowled. “If the Russians don’t give you what you want, bring her back to me, and I’ll make sure she never sees Mother Russia again.”

  Clark rounded the vehicle and slid into the back right side while I climbed in from the left. Norikova’s lips were pressed into a thin, horizontal line, and her body was trembling with a negative emotion I took to be either anger or disgust.

  “Be nice,” said Clark. “If you misbehave, this is going to get a lot uglier than any of us wants.”

  She gave no indication of either hearing or caring what Clark had said.

  A few seconds later, the ground lit up as a helicopter approached and landed. Clark helped Norikova out of the vehicle. Her expression hadn’t changed, but whatever transpired between her and the border guard obviously left a bitter taste in her mouth. We walked toward the helicopter, flanking Norikova closely between us. Even cuffed and shackled, I didn’t want her getting away from us in the dark. She had made no attempts to escape, but that didn’t mean the thought wasn’t dancing around in her head. I wondered if she believed we were actually taking her home.

  The Bell 412 was a variant of the Huey that had served us so well in the wilds of Panama only weeks before. I doubted the Finnish pilot had the personality or the aeronautical skill of our old Central-American pilot, Leo, but it was nice to see a familiar aircraft so far from home.

  With the engines still running as we climbed aboard, the border guard from the SUV leaned into the cockpit and yelled to one of the pilots. Seconds later, we were climbing into the Scandinavian night.