was one of Moscow’s principal thoroughfares and usually one of its busiest. But not today.
Only a few cars and taxis zoomed down the deserted street, racing over the speed limit along a road normally choked with bumper-to-bumper traffic. That was strange. Maybe the gasoline shortages she’d been reading about in the newspapers were finally starting to pinch the capital. Or maybe the government’s underpaid workers were staging another wildcat strike.
The deep roar of diesel engines moving up the street behind her ripped those idle speculations to shreds.
Wheeled armored personnel carriers thundered past at high speed, rumbling northward toward the river, the Kremlin, and the two-level Grand Boulevard that ringed the city center. Soldiers armed with assault rifles rode standing up, scanning the buildings to either side through open roof hatches. Wolf whistles and leers drifted her way as they sped by.
“Hey, pretty lady! Need a real man?”
“Nice tits, baby!”
Erin flushed angrily but she kept running. She had to get back to the embassy and find out what the hell was happening. Whatever it was, the Russian Army was certainly out in force, she thought, counting vehicles as they rumbled past. She stopped counting at thirty.
The long armored column split up as it entered October Square. Some of the turreted APCs turned left or right along the Grand Boulevard. Others roared straight ahead, advancing toward the Kammenyj Bridge and the Kremlin. Three vehicles bringing up the rear slowed down and wheeled in line to block the Kaluga Road.
Troops tumbled out of the APCs, urged on by shrill blasts from a high-pitched command whistle. Several took up firing positions near the entrance to the Hotel Warsaw while others trotted across the street. Still more men followed them, uncoiling twisted, razor-sharp strands of concertina wire.
Despite herself, Erin was impressed. These soldiers were putting together a very solid roadblock very quickly. Unfortunately they were also cutting her off from the nearest Metro station.
She slowed to a walk. Running headlong into a platoon of overexcited Russian infantrymen didn’t seem like a particularly good idea. Her hand slipped into the travel pack she wore around her waist, reaching for her passport and diplomatic identity card. With luck, they’d see that she wasn’t any threat and simply wave her through.
“Halt!”
Damn. She stopped, feeling her heartbeat starting to speed up. More than a dozen pairs of eyes and rifles were pointed in her direction.
The officer who’d yelled at her marched closer, backed by two of his soldiers. He had a narrow, arrogant face and he didn’t look friendly. Wonderful. She had the sinking feeling that getting past this checkpoint wasn’t going to be easy.
“You! Show me your papers! And be quick about it.” The officer snapped his fingers at her impatiently, but he seemed far more interested in studying her breasts. The two privates behind him were openly smirking.
“I’m an American diplomat. You have no authority over me.” Erin spoke carefully, in Russian, holding out the documents he’d demanded. “You see?”
The soldier snatched them out of her hand. “American, you say?” He stroked his chin with one hand, thumbed through her papers for a second, and then snorted. “But maybe these are forgeries, eh?”
Her temper flared. “Don’t be ridiculous! Now, cut the bullshit and let me pass!”
That was a mistake. She’d given this creep a perfect opening.
The Russian officer smiled lazily. “Perhaps you should learn to show more respect, woman.” He turned to the two privates behind him. “This so-called American could be a dangerous spy. Or a criminal. I think we should search her for concealed contraband. Thoroughly, eh?”
Both men nodded eagerly. One even licked his lips in anticipation.
Oh, God. Erin’s hands balled into fists. She glanced to either side, already knowing she had nowhere to run. All the soldiers manning the checkpoint had stopped to watch.
“Let’s go, bitch! We’ll see just what you’re carrying under that tight sweater of yours.” The officer spun on his heel, striding toward the nearest personnel carrier. He didn’t even bother to look back to see if she was following.
“Captain!” The sudden shout came from down the street, on the other side of the roadblock.
Erin could see a big black car pulling up to the barrier. It was a Lincoln Continental with diplomatic license plates. Her hands started trembling, this time in relief and not in fear. The cavalry had arrived. For the first time, she appreciated Banich’s earlier irritating insistence that she leave a detailed description of the route she planned to take whenever she signed out of the embassy compound. Her eyes narrowed in speculation. He had been standing by to pull her out of trouble. That could only mean that he and Kutner had had some advance warning of what was in the wind.
Erin frowned, still not sure whether she should! be touched by his readiness to rescue her, or irked that he’d kept her in the dark for so long.
One of the Lincoln’s rear doors popped open and Alex Banich climbed out, his face tight with anger as he took in the scene in front of him. Without stopping, he pushed through the knot of soldiers standing in his way, flashing his identity card from side to side as though it were some kind of religious talisman. He came to a halt right in front of the Russian captain.
“You’d better just be escorting Miss McKenna through your lines, Captain.” Banich slid the card into his jacket and put both hands on his hips. “If not, I can promise you one hell of a lot of trouble.”
“We were simply…”
“Don’t bother lying to me. I can guess what you were planning.” Banich glared up at the taller man, openly daring him to disagree.
The army officer scowled but kept his mouth shut. He’d obviously been looking forward to humiliating a lone American woman, not provoking a full-fledged diplomatic incident.
“Are you okay?”
Erin nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet. She’d be damned if she’d show these soldiers any more weaknesses than she already had.
“Good.” Banich reached out and took her papers out of the captain’s unresisting hand. “We’ve got a lot to get done today. As you may have gathered, the government’s declared martial law. So there’s no more time for screwing around with tin-pot, mincing morons like this guy.” He jerked a thumb at the Russian.
This time it was the captain who turned red with impotent rage. Erin smiled sweetly at him and followed Banich back to the waiting Lincoln. Inside she was busy trying to sort out a world that seemed suddenly turned upside down.
Before the Bolshevik Revolution, the circular stone platform called the Lobnoye Mesto, the Place of Skulls, had served as a site for public executions. Since the communists had preferred to carry out most of their murders in secret, the platform had fallen into disuse — becoming instead a place where tourists posed for pictures against the scenic backdrop provided by the old GUM department store and St. Basil’s Cathedral. Now, under Marshal Kaminov’s emergency decrees, the Place of Skulls was again a place for swift and sure punishments.
Several thousand people crowded Red Square, craning their heads for a better look at the raised platform. Excited murmurs swept through the waiting crowd as five blindfolded men were dragged down from a canvas-sided army truck and shoved up the stone steps. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and signs hung around their necks identified them as thieves and black market speculators.
Soldiers wearing heavy winter overcoats turned the blindfolded men around to face the square and forced them to kneel on the top step. When they were in place, five army officers marched smartly up the stairs and took their posts — one behind each kneeling prisoner.
“Citizens of Mother Russia!” a deep, harsh voice blared through the loudspeakers ringing the square. “For years these criminals have stolen bread from your mouths and profited by your miseries! But no more. No more. Now you will see justice done.”
Scattered clapping greeted this announcement, but most of those watching were silent.
“These men have been tried, convicted, and sentenced to death by the Special Military Tribunal for Moscow. Their appeals have been considered and rejected by the highest authorities.”
The people jamming the square stirred in confusion at that. Most of them were unsure of precisely who the
