Fay’s sheepish look told him that she had known from the beginning that Jess had been Tyler’s college girlfriend.
SIX
It had been four hours since Popovich and Golgov, traveling under the names Foreman and Blaine, were supposed to report in that they had disposed of Fay Turia. But when Vladimir Colchev checked his messages upon landing in Alice Springs, there were none waiting.
Before his three-hour Qantas flight from Sydney, Colchev had meticulously rechecked the Icarus prototype he’d procured from Nadia Bedova. As he’d expected, it was complete and ready for use. She wouldn’t have risked sabotaging it because he might have noticed during the handover.
As Colchev had been finishing the examination in Sydney, Popovich texted him a brief message.
We are in her house. She has engraving but no X. Orders?
To Colchev the information was both interesting and unfortunate. Interesting because he didn’t know the engraving still existed. However, he had a high-resolution photo of it, so it was worthless to him. The unfortunate part was that she had no xenobium. If she had, it would have made his mission much more simple.
Colchev had texted back immediately.
Destroy engraving. Term woman.
He didn’t need any loose ends at this late juncture. Termination of the Turia woman was the best option, and he’d had every confidence that his men would carry out his orders. That was why the lack of communication with Popovich since then was so troubling.
Colchev exited the plane and emerged from the covered staircase to a cloudless azure sky. The midday sun beat down, but its rays could heat the mild winter breeze to only a few degrees above room temperature.
Waiting for Colchev at the gate was Dmitri Zotkin, a whippet-lean operative whose trim mustache and beard matched his short dark hair. Dressed in khakis and a denim shirt, he could have passed for a guide coming to take Colchev on a tour of the outback.
They exited the airport without a word, and Colchev tossed his duffel into the rear of Zotkin’s SUV. They both got in, and Zotkin drove out of the airport.
“Why haven’t we heard from Golgov or Popovich?” Colchev said.
Zotkin cleared his throat. “They failed in their mission.”
“How do you know?”
“We’ve been monitoring news reports from Queenstown. Police say that two men were killed in an apparent kidnapping attempt.”
“Damn it! Is the woman alive?”
Zotkin nodded. “Her house was burned to the ground, but she survived. No word on her condition.”
“What about our men? Have they been identified?”
“No names have been released.”
Like all of the men who were in Colchev’s operation, Golgov and Popovich spoke fluent English in a neutral midwestern accent, and their passports were stellar fakes. Still, their deaths added to the mission’s risk.
“Is there anything leading back to us?” Colchev said.
Zotkin shook his head. “I’ve already sent the scramble signal to their phones. Any data or phone numbers on them have been destroyed.”
Colchev pounded the dashboard with his fist, shaking it until the glove box popped open. He closed it, sat back, and sighed. “They were good men.”
“At least they died for their country.”
They had been a loyal part of his foreign intelligence service team before Colchev’s failure, and now the former SVR operatives wouldn’t even get the honor of a Russian state funeral. He unrolled his window and breathed in the cool desert air. When his team had achieved its mission, he would make sure Golgov and Popovich’s part in the operation was recognized, that they would receive the honor they deserved as heroes of the Motherland.
Colchev snapped back to focus on his goal now. Because Fay Turia had no xenobium, their path was clear.
“How are the preparations going?” he asked.
“We’re almost ready. The last shipment arrived this morning, and they should be finished loading it by the time we get back.”
Zotkin turned onto a road going north into Alice Springs.
“What about the CAPEK vehicle?” Colchev asked.
“It is in working order, and we have a meeting set up with the project lead tomorrow morning.”
“Excellent.”
“And your informant still says the Killswitch will arrive on time?”
Colchev thought back to the message on the discussion forum. The username they’d agreed on had been compromised, so the pre-arranged replacement had been used. The only thing it said was, “Confirmed,” meaning the operation was a Go according to plan.
“The Killswitch will be here in the morning,” Colchev said. “Do you have all the documentation in order?”
“The uniforms, vehicles, and papers are all ready.” Zotkin cleared his throat. “What about Nadia? Did you get Icarus from her?”
“Everything went as expected.”
“I knew she’d never join us.”
“I didn’t think she would.”
“But you let her live.”
“We are patriots, Dmitri. So is Nadia. You would have me kill one of our own?”
“If necessary.”
“It wasn’t necessary.”
Zotkin grunted but didn’t say more. How to deal with Bedova was the one disagreement he and Colchev had. Zotkin had advocated wiping out her whole team as soon as she delivered Icarus, but Colchev knew that killing a fellow member of the SVR would make their reintegration into Russia much more difficult once the mission was over.
“If we see her again, we’ll do what we have to,” Colchev said.
Zotkin gave another grunt, but he seemed satisfied.
As they continued driving, they went over details of the operation. Although they had planned it down to the last detail, there were always contingencies to consider. A mission this complex required precise timing and complete understanding of the situation by all involved. The biggest question mark was his man on the inside of Lightfall. If he came through, the rest of the operation would go smoothly.
By the time Zotkin turned into the warehouse parking lot, Colchev was confident they were as ready as they could be.
The depot had once been used as a transfer station for trucks bound for Darwin and Adelaide, but it had been shut down years ago. Through a shell company, Colchev had rented it out as a staging point for their own operation, and the owners had asked no questions about their business.
Four semi trailers and a shorter truck were backed up to the warehouse loading platforms, and two SUVs occupied the lot. He and Zotkin got out and went into the warehouse, where a forklift was busy moving a pallet from the small truck to one of the trailers. Half a dozen men were assisting in the work.
Colchev stopped the forklift driver. “How long until you’re done?”
The driver pointed at the trailer closest to them. “This is the last load. We should be done setting the rest of it up in two hours.”
“What about the detonators?”
“Ready for rigging.”
“We’ll do it tonight. From now on, I want two men on watch, rotating every four hours.”
