“I’ve found a spot from where we can see the building,” Mike said, once he trusted himself to speak clearly.
Cooper followed Mike’s directions and they were able to squeeze between two beaters.
“Did you see anything while I was away?” Cooper asked.
“No, and I stopped caring about three minutes after you left,” Mike said, rubbing his hands together as Cooper turned off the engine.
“Yeah, I know it’s cold.”
“Cold? It’s freaking colder than the Arctic Circle,” Mike replied. “Climate change hasn’t reached Moscow yet, that’s for sure”
“Careful what you say about climate change, Mike, you should know—”
“All right, James, I’m not in the mood to hear your rhetoric about climate change right now,” Mike said, louder than he intended. A quick look at Cooper told him he had taken the rebuke personally.
“I know how you feel about the environment, James, and you’re right. It’s something we need to take seriously,” Mike said, knowing this was what Cooper needed to hear. “Can we focus on the mission now?”
“Aren’t you from Canada?”
Mike raised his eyebrows. “What does that have to do with what we’re doing here?”
“I just thought you’d be used to being cold.”
“Not this kind of cold,” Mike grunted, before adding, “All right, show me what you’ve got.”
Cooper reached for the backpack he had placed on the back seat. Inside were all the items Mike had requested, plus a few extras, including spare batteries, a new smartphone and a lock-pick gun.
“It’s secured,” Cooper said as Mike slipped the new phone into his pocket. “We’ve programed it the exact same way as your previous one.”
Mike reached under the passenger seat and retrieved the computer he had used earlier to track Victor’s movements. He powered it on and waited for the welcome screen to appear. He entered his username and password and clicked on the app that was linked to the tracker his wife had placed on the Russian agent. While the app loaded, his thoughts went to Lisa. Was the IMSI successful at warning her? He should never have allowed her to leave for Koltsovo without him. They were a team. Damn it!
“They’re coming our way,” Cooper said.
“What?” Mike said.
Cooper pointed to the computer’s screen. “This thing doesn’t lie.”
Cooper was right. The tracker was still active and it was moving toward their location. Mike dug into the backpack until he found what he was looking for. “Good of you to think about this, James,” he said, pulling out a pair of infrared, night-vision binoculars and a set of night-vision goggles.
“Glad to be of assistance,” Cooper replied with a smile.
Mike adjusted the binoculars to his eyes and the integrated range finder told him they were three hundred and fifty meters away from the building they were watching.
“You keep watch around the car while I stay on target, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Cooper replied.
........
Victor Simonich’s heart was beating faster than he cared to admit. Chances were that the intel unit his uncle had placed under the Sheik’s direction was already trying to locate him. If he were the Sheik, he’d also send men to the Solntsevo District to investigate any breach in operational security. Victor looked at his watch—an old Poljot his father had given him for his twenty-first birthday—and realized he would have only a few minutes to make contact with one of Mapother’s men before he’d have to leave. He hoped to see the man he had fought earlier in the bathroom. The man had looked sharp and knowledgeable. He had tricked him into entering the men’s room and had nearly choked him to death. And Victor wasn’t fooled easily.
As the taxi driver made the last turn toward their destination, Victor removed his pistol from its holster and placed it in his coat pocket. He didn’t want to use it, but he had a feeling things wouldn’t go as well as he hoped.
........
Mike Walton didn’t like it one bit. The angle wasn’t right, and his field of vision wasn’t as good as he had originally thought. They could see the building’s door but not much else, and Mike wanted to be in a position to observe the surrounding area. That meant that he had to get out of the vehicle and be exposed to the inclement weather once again.
“Where are they?” he asked, keeping his sight on the building’s entrance door.
“About five miles away. They’ll be here shortly.”
If he wanted to change location, now was the time to do it.
“Stay here,” he said, his decision made.
Cooper looked at him quizzically. “Where are you going?”
“I need a better spot,” Mike said, putting the binoculars down. “You see this apartment building on our left?”
Cooper twisted in his seat and cranked his neck to look where Mike was pointing. “Yeah?”
“That’s where I’m heading.” Mike put his gear together. “From the roof, I’ll have a better chance at spotting surveillance and counter-surveillance.”
Cooper was shaking his head. “Better you than me, my friend. You’ll freeze your ass up there.”
I know that, James . . . From the backpack, Mike took a pair of ear buds and synced them with his new phone.
“Put this in your ear, James,” Mike said, giving the Support Two team leader an ear bud. “Sync it with your phone and we’ll test our comms once I’m outside. Got it?”
“Got it.”
As soon as Mike opened the door, the cold hit him like a brick. “Shit.”
He closed the door behind him and headed straight to the tallest building on his left. He crossed the street and nearly lost his footing on a patch of black ice. He managed not to lose his balance but not without straining his back.
“James from Mike, radio check,” he said, once he was at the building’s door.
“You’re five by five.”
“Copy.”
Mike unzipped his backpack to get the lock-pick gun but tried to open the door to confirm it was indeed locked. It wasn’t.
“I’m in.”
“Door was unlocked?”
“You’re a genius, James,” Mike replied as he entered the foyer. There were only two elevators for what Mike estimated to be a three-hundred-and-fifty-unit building. If he needed to get out of there in a hurry, he’d have to pray one of them was available. If not, he’d be caught without an exit route. He searched for a staircase and found one a bit further down the hallway. He tried the door. Unlocked.
Good.
Next to the door was a fire escape plan. Mike pulled it off the wall and stuffed it in his pocket. He went back to the foyer and pressed the button to call one of the elevators.
“Any movement outside?”
“Nothing, Mike, but the windows are fogging up,” Cooper said. “In another three minutes or so, I’ll be completely blind.”
Shit! Why didn’t I think of that? Get your mind right, Mike!
“Understood, I’m heading up. Will let you know when you can move out.”
A ding announced the arrival of the elevator and Mike’s hand moved to the small of his back where he had concealed the PB silent pistol. The elevator doors slid open and he half expected to see someone walk out, but it was empty. He walked inside and pressed the button that would take him to the top floor. The elevator was slow and noisy. Mike glanced at his watch to see how long it took to reach his destination.
“I’m in the elevator, James. Acknowledge reception,” Mike said, testing if their comms were good even inside the elevator shaft. When Cooper didn’t reply, he had his answer.
The doors finally reopened. It had taken him just over two minutes. He had used the time wisely, studying the fire escape route. He knew which way to go. He stepped outside the elevator and headed towards
the staircase that would lead him to the roof, one floor up.
“I’ll be in position in sixty seconds,” he told Cooper over their comms system.
“About time. I can’t see shit.”
At the end of the corridor, a gray door stood between the hallway and the staircase. Mike turned the handle but it wouldn’t twist without a key inserted in.
“They’re less than a mile away, Mike,” Cooper warned him.
Damn it! He pulled the lock-pick gun out of his backpack and started working on the door. Much faster than the traditional method of lock picking, which used trial-and-error methods to find the correct alignment of the locking pins, a lock-pick gun uses the laws of physics and transfer of energy to push all of the driver’s pins out of the lock system while keeping the bottom ones from sliding in.
Fifteen seconds later, Mike was rushing up the staircase two at a time. He pushed the last door open and landed on the roof of the building. Except for the light glow the moon provided, it was pitch black. He adjusted his night-vision goggles over his tuque and walked to the edge of the building. The wind had picked up and it felt at least minus thirty with the wind chill. At this temperature, he wasn’t sure how long his batteries would last. There weren’t many pieces of equipment built to sustain this kind of punishment.
“Two hundred meters,” came in Cooper through his earpiece.
“Be more precise, James,” Mike replied impatiently. Mucus flowed from his nose before freezing almost instantly on his upper lip.
“From the north. You should see him.”
The night-vision goggles had helped him reached his position safely, but they were useless at finding his target at such a distance. He replaced them in his backpack and used a thermal rifle scope to scan the neighboring area. There was nobody in the adjacent streets. It was dead quiet. Way too quiet for his liking. Where were the Russians?
........
Victor asked the driver to drop him off two apartment buildings away from his real destination. He left a generous tip for the driver and stepped out of the cab. He dug his hands into his pockets as much to feel his pistol as to keep them warm. If Mapother’s men were as competent as he hoped they were, he was probably already under surveillance. He walked at a brisk pace, feeling his legs rattle as the cold cut through his clothes.
A quick peek revealed no one behind him. He looked at the tall white buildings surrounding him. If I wanted to make sure I wasn’t walking into a trap, that’s where I’d be. On the roof. And I’d stay there until I was damned sure I knew what I was up against.
But there was no time to play games. If the Sheik had indeed sent a team to this location, time was of the essence. He needed to do something that would provoke Mapother’s team into action. He shook his head in despair. He had no idea what to do until he walked past a Toyota Camry with frosted windows. Someone’s been there for a while.
It was time to gamble a little.
........
It doesn’t make any sense. Mike Walton had spotted his target as he disembarked from what looked like a taxicab. At this distance, he couldn’t be one hundred percent certain, but the car didn’t have the shape of a Mercedes. A single man had climbed out and walked on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. Why was the Russian bodyguard by himself? Wasn’t he supposed to bring Dr. Galkin with him? What had happened? Victor had looked sincere, and Mike couldn’t believe he had been played so easily. Even worse, Victor was now approaching the Toyota Camry. Mike prayed he didn’t notice the frosted windows, but he knew that was asking for a miracle.
“James, our target is approaching—”
“I know,” Cooper replied. “I’ve been tracking him on the—”
“Close the goddamn screen,” Mike warned, but it was too late. Victor had made his move.
........
Victor didn’t waste any time. If he was going to do something so drastic, he couldn’t hesitate. Not one second. And, once committed, there was no going back. Unfortunately for him, the moment his foot hit the slippery road, he lost his balance and he fell hard on his shoulder. The force of the impact caused him to drop his pistol at the same moment the vehicle’s occupant opened the driver-side door.
Victor was on his feet in an instant but the man already had a small pistol aimed at him.
“Get up,” the man said in English.
Victor tried to look furtively for his pistol but it was nowhere in sight. He thought he caught a glimpse of it under the Toyota but he couldn’t be sure. It was too dark to tell. He slowly got up, making sure his hands were held high to his side.
“On your knees,” the man yelled. Victor could see the man was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold. The man was an amateur.
“You told me to get up,” Victor replied. “I’m up.”
The man looked confused, as if he was waiting for directives. That’s it! That’s exactly what’s going on. Victor figured somebody else was watching him and was providing instructions to the man standing in front of him. That was why the driver had been able to exit the vehicle with such speed. Someone had warned him. Victor estimated the distance between him and the man at less than six feet. Hoping the man on watch didn’t have a sniper rifle trained on him, Victor took a second to make sure his feet had traction. Once he was sure he wouldn’t die because of a patch of ice, he leaped forward and down at the man’s knees. His left shoulder made contact first and Victor half expected to be shot in the back. But it didn’t happen. The man fell backward and yelped in pain as his head hit the frozen asphalt with a thump.
Victor was on his knees before his opponent could regain his senses and easily robbed him of his pistol. Victor forced the man to his feet. He placed himself in a defensive position, using the man as a shield by holding him tightly against him while burying the newly acquired pistol into the man’s back.
“Is there anyone else in the vehicle?” Victor asked.
The man tried to speak but Victor was choking him. He relaxed his grip slightly. “No.”
“What’s your name?”
“What?”
“What’s your name?” Victor repeated, pushing the barrel of the pistol hard against the man’s kidney.
“James,” the man replied, his voice barely audible. “My name’s James.”
“James, I will say this only once so you’d better listen . . .”
........
Mike Walton was on the move the moment he saw Victor step behind the Camry. He briefly considered taking the stairs but figured that if the elevator was still on the top floor it would be quicker. The doors slid open almost instantly and Mike stepped in, thanking God for this small miracle. Just as the doors were closing, Mike heard Cooper grunt. What the hell?
Whatever had just happened, there was nothing he could do. He had to wait. Even though he was still half frozen from his time on the rooftop, a fine moisture had started to form in his back. Worse, he started to hyperventilate. He recognized the symptoms for what they were. A panic attack.
Fuck! Not now.
His heart rate was going through the roof and he was losing control. He forced himself to concentrate on his breathing but to no avail. He put a knee down in fear he’d lose consciousness in the elevator. The walls closed in on him and he closed his eyes. He lost his balance and fell to his side.
He had no idea how long he stayed there, but when he opened his eyes, an elderly lady was looking at him, her right arm between the elevator doors in an attempt to keep them opened. If the sight of his pistol in his right hand worried her, she didn’t show it. She was yelling at him in Russian. He slowly got up, using the handlebar inside the elevator to help him. He nodded his thanks to the lady and walked across the foyer to the door that would lead him outside. The cold wind slapped him in the face. He took two deep breaths, but what he saw next nearly sent him spiraling out of control again.
........
Victor barely recognized the man who’d had the better of him less than two hours ago. He looked confused, out of a breath and completely out of his element. These two were certainly not the type of individuals he needed as allies against the Sheik. Was there a way for him to backtrack? To go back on his decision? What if he killed them both? The Sheik would certainly understand. His uncle would.
Just as he was about to send a couple of rounds into James’s spinal cord, the other man’s demeanor changed drastically. He was suddenly less than twenty meters away, and his pistol was up and on target. He wasn’t shaking as James had been.
“Let him go and we’ll talk, Victor,” the man said. “Or I’ll fucking kill you right here.”
The man was still walking toward him, closing the distance. He had no doubt the man could shoot, but the low visibility would make him a hard target to hit while he was using James as a shield.
“Stop,” Victor warned. “You’ll never be able to—”
Victor never heard the shot. The round hit him high on the left shoulder and the force of the impact swung him over to his side. James had used the distraction to get out of his grasp and to recover the pistol he had lost to him minutes ago. Victor knew he was a dead man if he moved. He slowly turned back toward his opponent, who still had his gun aimed squarely at his chest.
“Talk,” the man said.
Victor felt the back of his shirt becoming soaked with blood. The bullet must have gone right through. “We don’t have much time,” Victor replied. “The Sheik has already sent a team to this location. They’re on their way.”
A Red Dotted Line (Mike Walton Book 2) Page 14