'That's the sixth floor,' Kate said. 'They've got heavy security there.' She remembered that from the overview she'd received at the time Sergei Prokhorov and his partner had arrived at the Red Onion offices. Room 59 tracked the Russian agent through his cell phone GPS.
'We're hacked into those security systems, ma'am. There are no breaches that we know of. It's possible that they breached the security perimeter without triggering an alarm.'
Kate took in a breath and let it out. They'd hacked in without getting caught. Someone else could have done the same. Maybe getting into the building had been easy, but she planned to make getting out a lot harder.
'Trip the security alarms and notify the FSB,' Kate ordered. It was the best she could do. If they'd had a support team in the field, they could have tried to eliminate the snipers.
'Alarms sounded and Russian police alerted.'
On the screen, the sniper continued firing. Then he and his partner abandoned their gear and opened a box. The thermographic image resolution revealed that they pulled clothing from the box, but not what kind of clothing.
'Try to download the security database,' Kate ordered. 'Let's see if we can find out what identification those men used to enter that building.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
It was a long shot and the names were undoubtedly fake, but even knowing them might offer a lead. An operation in the field fed on crumbs once the action turned nasty.
'Do you see Prokhorov?' Kate asked.
'He's moving,' Jake replied grimly. 'So far, he's still alive.'
* * *
Sergei lay facedown on the thick carpet and blinked blood from his eyes. The carpet felt rough against his cheek. He realized it was covered with glass fragments. The gunshots continued to ring in his ears. Panic swirled through him, threatening to suck him down into a mindless void.
How many shots? he wondered. Is the shooter reloading? Or is he done?
'Sergei.'
When he recognized MikhalkoVs voice, Sergei cautiously lifted his head and peered around. Pasternak's blood still blurred Sergei's vision and tinted everything scarlet.
'Were you hit?' Mikhalkov lay nearby. The old man's face was ashen and he lay with the side of his face pressed to the floor near the desk. He held his pistol in his white-knuckled fist.
'I do not know.'
'Find out.'
Reluctantly, irritated that Mikhalkov made no move himself, Sergei rolled onto his back and waited for the next bullet to crash into him. Surely a moving target would draw the sniper's attention. Sergei looked down his body. He appeared intact.
'No.' He tried to keep the relief he felt from his voice. 'I am not hit.'
'Good. I think the sniper is gone.'
'Why?'
'Because we are not dead and there is no more shooting.'
Sergei scanned the room. The two young bodyguards were dead. A bullet had nearly taken the head from one man's shoulders, and the other had his stomach turned inside out. Sergei shuddered at the sight. The fist-size holes in the wall let in daylight and the street noise below.
'How is Pasternak?' Mikhalkov asked.
Sergei found the big Mafiya man on his back behind the blood-spattered desk. Pasternak's chest moved slightly.
'He is alive,' Sergei said.
'Mikhalkov,' Pasternak whispered hoarsely.
'Yes?' Mikhalkov crawled over to the Mafiya boss, keeping a wary eye on the door.
'You have killed me.' Pasternak drew his pistol and pointed it at Mikhalkov's head.
Mikhalkov made no move to defend himself. Sergei shoved his pistol at Pasternak, but Mikhalkov shook his head.
'I did not kill you,' Mikhalkov said. 'You know who killed you.'
Pasternak's hand shook. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. 'They followed you here.'
'Perhaps, but they would have found you, anyway.' Mikhalkov ignored the pistol in his face and examined Pasternak. 'Even if medical help were to arrive now, you would die. You will not survive your wounds.'
Weak curses slipped from Pasternak's lips.
'Tell me who did this to you,' Mikhalkov said. 'Let me be your vengeance.'
Bloody spittle blew from Pasternak's mouth as he attempted to laugh. 'You will only get yourself killed.'
'I am a hard man to kill. You know that from experience.'
Pasternak's breathing grew more labored. Sergei hated the sound of it. Listening to someone die was hard.
'Tell me about Kirinov,' Mikhalkov coaxed.
'This is not Kirinov's arrangement,' Pasternak wheezed.
'Then who?'
Pasternak worked to get the name out. 'Kumarin. Yuri Kumarin.'
Sergei couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'This man has the same name as the general?'
General Yuri Kumarin had been one of the staunchest foes of Chechen independence.
'You…you have such a lamb, Mikhalkov.' Again Pasternak attempted to laugh. 'It is a wonder that you have not lost him.'
'I like Sergei,' Mikhalkov replied. 'I keep him around. I see promise in him.' He shook a cigarette from his pack with a bloody hand. He lit a cigarette and passed it to Pasternak. 'Tell me about Kumarin.'
'From the beginning, this was Kumarin's project.' Pasternak inhaled the cigarette weakly. 'That's what he called it. A project. I am Mafiya. I do not do projects.'
'What was the project?'
'I was to arrange…a shipment of weapons. Kirinov bought them from a weapons dealer.'
'You were supposed to bring them into the country?'
'Yes. It seemed easy enough.'
'Who were the weapons for?'
'I do not know. Ivanov met the man. He told me he had an eye patch.' Pasternak tried to touch his own eye, but his motor control was almost gone.
'Did Ivanov get a name?'
'No.'
'Does this man have the weapons?'
'I do not know.'
'How can you not know?'
'Because I…no longer have…the weapons.' Fresh blood spilled from the corner of Pasternak's mouth. 'Only…a few days ago…they were stolen.'
'Who took them?'
'I do not know.' Pasternak shuddered and wheezed.
'What happened to Ivanov?'
'The man I was…to sell the weapons to…he killed Ivanov. Shot him…and dropped him…through the window.'
'Why?' Mikhalkov asked.
'I was told to raise…the price…of the weapons. That man…he did not care…for that idea.' Pasternak swallowed hard and sucked in a painful breath. 'He must have been…very certain of himself. That he would…get his weapons.'
'Because he knew you would still trade with him even after IvanoVs murder.'
'Yes. You see…howit was.'
