Black operator complete.., p.16
Black Operator--Complete Box Set (Books 1-6), page 16
“Yes. For now.”
They drove on in silence, and March kept glancing at him. He knew there was a message he wanted to convey, and eventually he asked the question.
"What is it, Jeff? There’s something you're not telling us."
A shrug. "Thing is, buddy, I called in more than a few favors set this up. These guys put their jobs, their careers, everything on the line. If DEA finds out what they’ve done, they'll be finished. Could even be facing a period of imprisonment. I can’t ask them to do any more.”
“We’re on our own, is that what you’re saying?”
He didn’t answer, not directly. “I'm taking you to a DEA operation center just outside the city. It’s not in use at present, but the full range of technical equipment is still inside. I’ve also arranged for a car to be left there so it’s available for you. Do what you think best to protect her, but my advice is you should locate this Russian who’s trying to kill you, and try to negotiate. Talk to him. There has to be a price for him to take a step back. There's always a price."
“The price is the life of Maria Tereshkova,” he snapped.
Jeff nodded his understanding. "That's why they came, I get that. But there's just a chance they'll settle for something less. Ask them what would cut it for them. It could be money, or maybe get the lady to agree never to stand against the President in a future election. There may even be something else, something we haven’t thought of. But you have to talk."
He didn't reply. What was there to say, talking to a bunch of rabid killers would be a mistake. Minutes later, they stopped outside an anonymous warehouse. An agent slid the outer door open, the truck drove inside, and they stepped out. March gestured to the equipment set up in one corner of the empty space, computers, active servers, their data lights flashing, and a range of monitors and larger screens.
"You can use all this. I've left my login details to the keyboard. Find these guys, and try and arrange something to stop the killing. You know the alternative. These men are not the kind of people to give up and quietly go home. Not until…"
"Not until I'm dead," Maria said quietly. She was holding Alexander in her arms, and he appeared to have fallen asleep.
March held out his hand. "I have to go, take the guys and the vehicle back where they belong. I wish you good luck, and I reckon if you talk to them, it's your best chance."
He shook hands. “Thanks for everything you've done, Jeff. Without you, we'd be dead already."
He grinned. "Maybe, maybe not. I've always had a high regard for your abilities, Cris. Somehow, I know you’ll come through. You always did.”
Maria approached him, still with the boy in her arms. “You can do one more thing for us, Jeff. My son. Would you take care of him, keep him safe until this is done?”
He hesitated just for a few seconds. “Sure, I’ll look after him like he’s my own.”
He took the sleeping boy in his arms and gave Cris a final glance. “I left a couple of Glocks on the desk, but I hope you don’t have to use them. There’s a couple of phones, too, untraceable. Call me when you’ve sorted this out.”
“I will. And thanks again.”
March called across to a DEA man, still anonymous in his ski mask, and they boarded the van. Drove out of the warehouse, and someone slid the door closed from outside. They were on their own, and Cris went straight to the keyboard.
"Knowing where they’re at is a good idea, but I’m not sure about talking to them. They’re liable to start shooting the moment they see you. On the other hand, if I knew where they were, I could hit them before they hit us. Shoot first.”
She gave him a concerned look. “This isn’t the Cris Rhodes I met a few months ago. That man was determined for the killing to stop.”
“That Cris Rhodes wasn’t being shot at by homicidal Russians.”
She frowned. “I still want to talk to them first." She sounded determined, "There's no other way to protect my son. I have to make it stop."
"Maria, these people will agree to anything to get you to go to them. But it won't stop them killing you the moment they have the chance."
He was wasting his breath.
“If you won’t help me, I’ll do it on my own. Get them to agree to call off the hit, like Jeff said. Cris, I want to see my son again, don’t you understand? Alive. To give him a normal life, and to have a mother who can bring him up, not a memory engraved on a headstone. Then there’s the other thing. My country needs me.”
“Alive, not dead.”
“I’ve made up my mind.”
With a sigh of resignation, he logged into the DEA system. The computer showed connections to national and international databases. State Department, FBI, Interpol, they were all in there. Also links to live city and Chicago PD CCTV cameras. And a sophisticated facial recognition program that although he wasn't aware of it, was a far more powerful version of the one used by the Russian computer expert in a certain Chicago lawyer’s office. He searched through the databases, looking first for anything on Major Sverdlov. On the State Department records he found an entry for the Russian Major. A photo appeared on screen, and Maria stabbed a finger at it.
“That’s him. There’s no question.”
Rhodes brought up the text that accompanied the photo. Sure enough, a long record in the military, followed by a spell in Special Forces and then a transfer to SVR, Russian Foreign Intelligence. After SVR, Sverdlov disappeared off the radar, but it wasn't hard to know where he’d gone. A short walk across Moscow from the headquarters of SVR to the Kremlin, and he’d signed up to work for the man at the top. His personal problem solver, a shooter. Rhodes added the image to the facial recognition software and began a citywide search to locate him. After several minutes, the software came up with a hit.
"They’re in a coffee bar in the downtown area, Latte on the Lake."
He zoomed in on the image of three men sitting at the table outside the coffee bar. Sverdlov and two operatives. A third man joined them, a big man, must have weighed between three hundred and four hundred pounds. He pulled a laptop computer from a case, opened the lid, and showed them something on the screen. Shaking his head, as he’d failed to find what they wanted. Even in the grainy image, they could see his multiple chins wobbling as he spoke. Sverdlov snarled something and waved him away. The big man replaced the laptop in the bag and plodded away. Sverdlov spoke to the two men and drew a hand across his throat. They both chuckled at the gesture and resumed the silence.
They swapped a glance. “It looks like they’ve just fired their computer expert. That’s the kind of people you’re planning to talk to.”
“I have to try.”
He carried on and found the Major's cellphone number on the database. She picked up the burner phone and called him. He answered almost at once, and it was strange watching his movements on the CCTV.
“Major Sverdlov?"
"Who is this?"
"The person you’ve been trying to kill. My name is Maria Tereshkova, and I thought it was time we had a chat. I’m sure you agree we have a lot to discuss.”
“Where?”
“I can come to the café.”
They watched his face on the CCTV, and the effect of her words was almost comical. His jaw dropped, and he stared around, as if she was watching him from somewhere very close. Seeing nothing, he said, "What did you want to talk about exactly? What did you have in mind?"
"Just a chat, to see if we can resolve our differences. The differences between me and your boss.”
“Go on.”
"No guns, no rough stuff. I'll have people watching you," she lied, "You can tell those two goons of yours to keep their hands in sight. If I see a gun, my people start shooting."
He considered for a moment, and they saw him nod. "Very well, I'll wait here for you."
She ended the call, and they watched the Russian talk urgently to his men. Was he telling them to do as she'd insisted, or was it something else? They’d soon find out. He picked up a Glock 17 March had left him and slid out the magazine. It was full. He snapped it back into the butt and tucked it into his waistband. Thought again of his vow to stop the violence, stop the killing.
My intention is good, but when the bad guys take potshots at you, or the people you care about, what choice do you have? None.
They left in the Dodge Dart compact March had provided, and he drove into town. She was nervous, and he gave her a sideways glance.
“You can always pull out, if you think this is going to go wrong.”
“No.” The answer came quickly, “I owe it to everyone, to Alexander, to you, to the people who want to vote for me in Russia. I have to resolve this.”
He didn’t comment. There was no need. He was pretty sure he knew what would happen. They’d try again to kill her. These people were like rabid dogs, and nothing would stop them, short of a bullet, preferably lots of bullets. He parked the Dodge a block away from the Latte on the Lake coffee bar. She leaned over and touched his lips with a brief kiss.
“Wish me luck, Cris.”
“Sure.”
But I’d sooner you weren’t doing this, and we were confronting these guys with a well-armed fireteam, and that you wore an armored vest. And were going in with a bodyguard on either side, armed with assault rifles.
She climbed out, crossed the street, and walked toward the tables on the sidewalk. He stayed out of sight, threading his way between the parked cars until he was opposite their table.
Satisfied they hadn’t seen him, he took up position where he could watch them. All he could do was wait. She approached the table, and three sets of cold eyes stared at her. She gave the Major a smile of greeting and took the chair he indicated. He nodded to the two men. They climbed to their feet and began to edge away. In that moment, Cris knew he’d been right. She’d walked into a set-up, and it was about to all go wrong. The smaller man took up position just behind a parked delivery truck, where he could step out and block her escape.
The big man looked around and failed to see Cris opposite. His hand dove under his coat and emerged with a Czech Skorpion. He was already moving, snatched out the Glock 17 March had left for him, and ran forward. Halfway to the table he opened fire on the guy with the Skorpion, but he’d caught the movement and twisted away. The bullets intended for his chest tore into his arm, but they caused him to drop his gun. He swerved away, and a moment later the second of Sverdlov’s men leapt out from behind the truck with his automatic raised. He was about take the shot at Maria, but Cris snapped off two rounds. Both buried themselves in his chest, and he collapsed to the sidewalk in a welter of blood. Bystanders were running, and a woman was screaming. He ignored them, reached the table, and stuck his gun in Sverdlov’s face.
"Keep your hands in view, and don't move. Maria, we're leaving. You’ve seen the deal they were about to make with you. All they wanted was to get you here to kill you. Isn't that right, Major?"
The Russian didn't reply, but his silence was eloquent. They raced across the street back to the Dodge and leapt inside. Sirens were starting to wail, and they had to get out of the city. He drove away fast and out of town, heading north.
“Use your phone. Call March, and tell him we’re heading his way. You’ll be able to ask him about Alexander, and see if he can fix us up somewhere remote to stay. Like before, but not his place, an address with no connection to him, and nowhere near Alexander. They could use him again to reach you.”
She made the call. It was brief, and she relayed it to him when she’d finished the call. “March said he’d do what he can to find us a place. Cris, what are you planning?” Her voice sounded different, not frightened, but hollow, empty of hope.
He spoke as he weaved through the traffic to get away before someone came after them. The Russians, Chicago PD, U.S. Immigration, and maybe a couple more agencies he wasn’t yet aware of.
"We need to go back to where it all started, where these bastards first picked us up. I’ll drive to the floatplane base, and if Warner is still there, I'll get him to fly us back to Vermont. It’s time to get ahead of them and make preparations for when they try again."
"Why Vermont?"
He frowned; annoyed he’d got it so wrong before. "I made a mistake coming here. I thought we could lose ourselves in the city, but the Russians have the same technical resources as U.S. Law Enforcement. Which means wherever we go, they'll find us. We have to go back to somewhere remote. Where there are no cameras.”
“And what then? More shooting, more killing?” It didn’t sound like Maria. More like a frightened girl, frightened for the safety of her son.
“I intend to draw them into an ambush. Finish them before they get a chance to make another play at killing you."
"Won’t they just send in more hitmen?"
He grimaced. "We’ll take it one step at a time, deal with the ones that are here.”
He carried on driving fast, north along the west shore of the lake. He had the beginnings of a plan in his head, something that may get her off the hook. Talking to the shooters they sent for her was a bust. The guys were just hired hitmen, with one thing on their minds, to kill Maria. Once he’d taken care of them, he had an idea. He’d contact someone else, and try to persuade them, to the one man who could call off the dogs. What was that old expression, don’t talk to the monkey, talk to the organ grinder. He’d try to talk to the organ grinder.
First, they had to survive, and he wasn't at all sure they could manage that much. He kept glancing in the mirror for a tail. Before long, Sverdlov would come after them. And when he did, it had to be the final reckoning.
* * *
In the lawyer’s office, the so-called computer genius drew a blank, and once more, it was Lemkov who drew on his contacts. He made some calls, and on the third try, struck gold.
“I think I know a way to get to her.”
Sverdlov stared at him. “This had better be good. We still don’t know where they went after they left the café. Until we have that information, how can you get to her?”
“Your problems are over, Major. You still have the number of the cellphone she used to call you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“In that case, when you have her son, you will offer her a simple swap. His life for hers."
He grabbed Lemkov’s arm and pulled him toward him. “You’re sure about this? There is no mistake?”
He shook the hand from his arm. “I am sure. I will give you the address. All you need do is go and collect the boy. Then the woman is yours.” Lemkov grinned and opened the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a tall glass of neat vodka, and one for the Major, “A toast is in order, I believe. Zdarovye.” Cheers.
Sverdlov took a long pull of the fierce spirit and hurled the expensive crystal against the wall, where it shattered into a thousand fragments. “Zdarovye.”
* * *
Manotowic was as picturesque as they remembered. Instead of a couple of days, it seemed like a lifetime since they’d arrived on from Canada. A floatplane was gunning along the lake, and they watched it take off in a welter of spray. Tied to the dock, Warner’s Cessna 172 floated on the water, and they breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ll go find him, see if he’ll help us.”
She started to open the door. “I’m coming with you.”
He put his hand on her arm to stop her. “Last time we were here, Immigration grabbed you. It’d be best if you waited. I’ll be a few minutes.”
Warner was reading a newspaper, sitting on a battered armchair. He looked up when the door opened, and his face fell when he recognized Rhodes.
“I need to rent your plane. Can you take us to Vermont?”
He sucked in breath through his teeth. “Last time I carried you and that girl, I had to fill in a heap of forms from Immigration. They accused me of being a people trafficker.”
“I’m sorry. But this time, it’s strictly an internal flight.”
He considered for a few moments and nodded his head. “I could do with the money to pay off that loan to that bloodsucker Jeff March, so I’ll do it. Take off in fifteen minutes.”
“What’s wrong with now?”
He shot him a glare. “I haven’t finished reading my paper. Fifteen minutes.”
He went outside, and she was talking on the burner phone, her face white. When the call ended, she was silent for several minutes, staring out over the lake. Then she beckoned him over. “It’s finished. Over. They’ve got him.”
“Got who?” But he knew. They’d found the lever strong enough to force her hand.
“Alexander. They said they’d kill him if I don’t surrender. I have to do as they say. I have no choice.”
“They’ll kill you.”
“Yes, I know.”
Chapter Five
The Cessna buzzed over the lake, heading east. Warner had little to say, except to comment when he saw their concern as he swung the nose over to the southeast.
“The Cessna’s a good aircraft, but she has short legs. We’ll need to make a stop to refuel. There’s a floatplane base on Lake Erie. I’ll land her there to top up the tank. Then it’s all the way to Vermont.”
Cris rode in the front passenger seat. He spent the flight with his head craned around, trying to argue her out of giving herself up uselessly.
“You go to them and they’ll slaughter you out of hand. Let me work this out.”
“No. I have to give him a chance. It’s all I can do for him.”
“They could kill him, too, as soon as they’ve killed you.”
She’d stared fixedly ahead. “It’s a chance I have to take.”
She wouldn’t change her mind, and he was convinced they were flying to her death. After a time he gave up, but something was buzzing in his mind, and if he could work it out, maybe there was a chance she could survive. The exchange was slated to take place in the town of Colchester, a few miles north of Burlington. The home of Jeff March, and somehow they’d discovered the boy was with him. They were using him to get to her, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.
