He’s Russian! KGB” McGarvey pushed past the Marine and raced down the corridor to the emergency room. The kid caught up with him almost immediately. Together they burst through the swinging doors and into the waiting room filled with people. “He’s in here” the Marine shouted, swinging left and rushing into the examining room area. McGarvey was right behind him. A team of doctors and nurses were working frantically on a man lying flat on his back on an examining table. Kurshin was not among them. The Air Force officer had been shot in the face. “Where is the doctor who brought this man in” McGarvey shouted. One of the nurses looked over her shoulder at McGarvey and the Marine standing there, guns in hand, then glanced at the team members and shook her head. “I think he’s on seven getting an operating room ready” she said and went back to her work.
Arkady Kurshin nodded tiredly at the three nurses on the fifth-floor duty station as he picked up the telephone and dialed the three-digit number for the fourth-floor ICU. Rand’s a 0 is scru S. in im 00 as if he had just come from an operating theater. “Tough night, Doctor” one of the nurses asked. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you” Kurshin said injecting a note of deep tiredness into his voice. The nurse smiled solicitously and moved off so that he could have a little privacy for his telephone call. It was ringing. Potok answered. Kurshin did not recognize his voice, but he knew it wasn’t McGarvey. “This is security”
Kurshin snapped, keeping his own voice just low enough so that the nurses couldn’t hear what he was saying. “We’ve got him on the second floor”
“What? Who is this”
“Security, god damnit. The Russian, we’ve got the bastard cornered on the second floor. Is McGarvey there”
“No, he went down just a couple of minutes ago” Shit, Kurshin swore to himself. “Well, we need help, god damnit. Either find McGarvey or get your ass down here on the double”
“What about Schey”
“We’ve got the goddamned Russian cornered, didn’t you hear me” Kurshin snapped. The nurse was looking at him. He smiled tiredly, and she gave him a knowing look. “On my way” Potok said.
“Good” Kurshin said and he hung up the telephone. The elevator was still on the fifth floor. Except for McGarvey’s absence, his luck was holding.
But if the bastard had gone downstairs, he would know by now what was going on. There still could be a chance. “The nights keep getting longer” the nurse said. “Isn’t that the truth” Kurshin replied and he went down the corridor and stepped out into the stairwell. He could hear someone rushing down the stairs below as he pulled out his gun and hurried down, his bootied feet making absolutely no noise. The fourth-floor corridor was deserted. Nothing moved, there were no sounds.
that this was a trap. He pushed open the ICU doors and went into the unit itself. Schey was the only patient. He had regained consciousness, and his eyes were open. He spotted Kurshin and he went wild, thrashing around in the bed, pulling IV tubes out of his arms. “You were a mistake, Dieter” Kurshin said softly in German. He raised his gun and shot the East German in the face. Above the bed, the heart monitor went flat and began to whistle in a steady tone. Turning, Kurshin walked back through the ICU and out into the corridor at the same moment Dr.
Rabbinoux was emerging from his office. “Who called you up here”
Rabbinoux started to ask. Kurshin raised his pistol and shot the doctor in the face at a range of less than twenty feet, the man’s head snapping back, his eyes and nose filling with blood, and his body slamming backward against the wall. McGarvey. He wanted McGarvey. It was the entire reason for coming here like this tonight. The bastard had sent up the signal: Here I am, come and get me. Dieter Schey, your little East German expert, is here. Bait. Come if you can. “Well, I came” Kurshin mumbled in frustration. Reaching the stairwell he heard the first-floor door slam open and someone start up the steps. More than one person. At least two, perhaps more. He wanted McGarvey, but he had another job to do. As much as it rankled, he was professional enough to realize that if he remained here to fight it out, he would lose. There was no way of going up against them all. At least not this time … perhaps. Kurshin turned and hurried noiselessly back up to the fifth floor, where he flashed the nurses another tired smile. The elevator was still on this floor. He punched the button, the doors opened, and he stepped aboard.
“Have a good evening” he said pleasantly. “You too, Doctor” the nurse said.
McGarvey with the two Marines right behind him held up at the fourth-floor door, opening it carefully. “Potok” he started to shout, the word dying on his lips as he spotted Dr. Rabbinoux’s body lying in a pool of blood. He slammed open the door and ran down the corridor, again holding up at the ICU door. The Marines were right behind him. McGarvey motioned for them to back him up, and he shoved his way into the room, sweeping his gun right to left, keeping low, moving fast. Schey was dead, shot in the face at close range. “Christ” McGarvey swore.
“Sir” one of the Marines shouted from the corridor. “Out here”
McGarvey spun on his heel and raced back out of the ICU. Potok had just come through the east stairwell door. The Marine had a gun on him, Potok’s hands raised above his head. “Where the fuck did you go”
McGarvey shouted. “You bastard. potok was shaking his head. McGarvey turned on the Marine. “He’s on the loose. Have this building sealed.
Immediately”
“Yes, Sirthe Marine snapped, but McGarvey had the feeling that they were too late. Once Kurshin was free, God only knew what would happen next.
Trotter had used his car phone to call ahead twice. Each time FBI Agent Tom Sills had assured him that nothing had happened yet, but that they were keeping their eyes open. Turning off the secondary highway he hurried up the narrow gravel road three-quarters of a mile to the house. His windows were down. The night was very dark under a slightly overcast sky, and the air smelled heavy.
It would probably rain soon, he thought. Fifty yards before the road opened into the clearing, his way was blocked by a battered blue pickup truck and he had to stop. He reached beneath his coat and pulled out his pistol, thumbing the safety off. “It’s me” he called out softly. “John Trotter”
illuminated the interior of the car, blinding him. “It’s him” a voice said from the darkness. He heard the static and crackle of a walkie-talkie. A second later the flashlight was switched off, and Agent Sills approached the car. “You made good time, sir” he said. “Sorry about the light, but we had to make sure”
“No problem” Trotter said.
“Everything is still okay here”
“So far so good” Sills said but he seemed a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, sir, but I called for backup.
It’s very dark out here and there’s no way the four of us will be able to cover every approach” They had wanted to keep this operation as quiet as possible, but the man did have a point, and Trotter conceded it.
“You’re right, but I want the extra hands kept away from Dr. Abbott.
Officially she is just another body in the Witness Protection Program.”
“Yes, sir”
“They don’t even have to know she is a woman”
“No”
“Move your truck now and tell them I’m coming up to the house. I want to talk to her”
“Will do” Agent Sills said.
Yuri Deryugin and Mikhail Lakomsky lay on the floor of the dark woods a few meters down from where the blue pickup truck was parked. They were dressed in black night fighter coveralls, their faces blackened. Each of them was armed with an AK74 assault rifle equipped with infrared spotting scope. In addition they each carried a suppressed .22 caliber automatic pistol, a razorsharp stiletto, and a wire garrote capable, in the right hands, of completely severing a man’s head from his body. They were both experts, KGB Department Viktor graduates, whom Baranov had handpicked for advancement. For the past hour since penetrating the property’s outer spotting the three FBI agents, one by the pickup truck, one just within the woods down from the clearing, and the other on the east side of the house. They assumed there would be at least one other agent within the house, in addition to the man who’d just shown up. They had been close enough to overhear most of the conversation between Sills and Trotter, so they knew that they would have to get in and out soon, before the reinforcements arrived. Deryugin motioned for Lakomsky to hold up. The other man nodded and took aim on Agent Sills’s back with his rifle. It was very quiet. Even so, Lakomsky could hear absolutely no noise as Deryugin crept forward toward where Agent Sills was backing the pickup truck into place. Sills got out of the truck. He was dressed in a blue windbreaker and dark blue baseball cap. He carried an M16 rifle, which he slung, barrel down, over his shoulder as he stepped off the
