earpiece.
Roger’s voice was loud and rapid. “The target moves across the road, heading east.”
“Shit!” Laith gunned his BMW. “I’m moving farther east. Will, move your ass and pick up the tail on foot.”
Will sprinted across the parking lot, his feet crunching deep into the snow. Turning by the northeast corner of the Pacific HQ, he ran fast along the road leading to the port before slowing to a walk. He was right by the quayside. Tall warships were berthed adjacent to the route he needed to take. Looking around, he squinted through the snowfall before spotting the target walking along the quayside. “I’m by the port, have sight of the target, and am taking over command.”
Both CIA operatives replied, “Understood.”
The target was walking quickly. Will matched the pace, maintaining a constant distance of three hundred feet. Strong winds blew snow diagonally through the air from the port and through the gaps of the Udalay I destroyers, a Slava — class cruiser, and one Sovremenny — class destroyer. The target slowed, turned to face the deserted road, looked left and right, and walked across the route.
“Target breaking left and heading north.” Will kept his voice at medium volume, even though he knew his prey had no chance of hearing him given the distance between them and the noise of the weather. “I’ve almost certainly been spotted, although there’re no signs the target is suspicious. Roger, stay north but move five hundred feet east. Laith, move three hundred feet north.”
“Will do.”
“On my way.”
Will followed the target north into a narrow side street. As he walked he could feel his handgun, secreted under his overcoat and suit, rub against the base of his spine. The route was straddled by terraced buildings and had only a few dim streetlamps to illuminate the place. He looked at the buildings. All of them were clearly business-related and had no interior lights turned on. He looked at the target.
“Target moving east!” Will silently cursed the fact that he had taken his eyes off his prey. “Now out of my sight. Laith, move two hundred feet further north. Roger, I estimate you’ll need to move about a hundred and fifty feet east.”
Will ran quickly up the empty street, the icy air causing pain in his lungs with each inhalation. Reaching the crossroads where the target had moved right, he slowed to a walk, stopped, and glanced down the route where his quarry had gone. He saw the pedestrian a hundred feet away, continuing to walk. “I’m in a residential street. The target’s home could be here.”
“Your instructions?” Roger’s voice sounded strained over the sound of his vehicle’s engine.
Will momentarily stopped, looked at the target, looked again at the street, which this time was straddled by continuous homes, some of which had lights on, then made his decision. “You both should be a maximum of three hundred feet away from my location. Roger, head south and look west for the road I’m on. Laith, head directly west. You may even be on the far end of the same street.” He stayed still, counting in his head. After a count of five, he shouted, “Takedown, now!”
Sprinting toward the target, now no longer caring if he was spotted, he saw car headlights in the distance, racing down the street toward the pedestrian.
He heard Laith say over the roar of his powerful BMW, “I can see you and you can see me.”
The target stopped, turning quickly to face Will. Roger’s Audi A8 then appeared on the street from an alley on the left, screeching as it turned hard into the road barely thirty feet in front of Will. The target was now trapped between Laith’s and Roger’s vehicles. But Will sprinted faster, racing past Roger’s car, withdrawing his handgun, until he was fifty feet away from the target. He slowed, held his QSZ-92 high in two hands, and aimed it at the pedestrian’s head. The target looked left and right but remained in place.
Will walked right up to the target. “Korina Tsvetaeva.”
The woman took three steps back, looking terrified and confused. “Yes?”
Will marched right up to her, keeping his pistol trained on her skull. “We don’t want to hurt you.”
The GRU major looked toward Laith’s car, then over Will’s shoulder at Roger’s vehicle. “Then what do you want?”
Will smiled. “Your help.” His smile vanished. “But I will gun you down if you try anything stupid.”
Korina was dressed in a long fur coat and hat and was in her early thirties. She removed her hat, allowing her long black hair to fall onto her shoulders. Her eyes were still wide with fear, though when she spoke she seemed to be making an effort to control her emotions. “So the letter was a trick to flush me out.” She shook her head slowly. The wind receded, and snow fell gently over her face.
Will nodded, stepping right up to Korina. Lowering his handgun, he said quietly, “I mean you no harm. But we need to go somewhere private so that we can talk.”
Korina narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”
“A friend of someone who’s important to you, someone who’s in danger.” He glanced at Laith. The SOG operative was on foot beside his car with his weapon trained on the GRU major. He looked over his shoulder at Roger and saw that he was in an identical stance. He called out, “Lower your weapons.” He looked at Korina. “We need to go.”
Korina shook her head. “No.”
Will silently cursed, aware that at any moment they might be spotted by a civilian in one of the adjacent houses or maybe by a routine naval dock patrol. He stepped even closer to Korina, placed a hand on her arm, felt her flinch, but retained his grip and pulled her body right up to his. He whispered into her ear, “My name is William Archer. I’m a British Intelligence officer. I know who you really are. You’re an MI6 agent. The man who’s been running you has been captured by a Russian special forces officer who wants to kill you and others like you. If he succeeds, your death won’t be the first. Several weeks ago, he infiltrated a naval base and murdered a submarine captain. That man was your father.”
Chapter Thirty-one
It was ten P.M. Will, Roger, and Laith were in Korina’s tiny terraced house. The residence was barely three hundred yards away from where they had confronted her on the street. They were in her lounge, and the place was crammed with full bookshelves, had a small wooden dining table, one chair, a television that looked at least twenty years old, and little else. Korina had removed her coat to reveal jeans and a turtleneck sweater. She grabbed the wooden chair, spun it around, and sat on it the wrong way, with her arms resting on its back. After lighting a cigarette, she silently observed the three Western intelligence officers, who were perched on whatever they could find.
Will studied Korina for a moment, then nodded toward Laith and Roger while still keeping his attention on the GRU officer. “My colleagues are CIA paramilitary operatives.”
Korina looked at them and blew out a thin stream of smoke between her lips. “You look like killers.”
Will rubbed his cold hands together, then abruptly stopped doing so. “We’re hunting a man called Taras Khmelnytsky. Have you heard of him?”
Korina said nothing.
“You know who he is.” He nodded. “Khmelnytsky’s a colonel and the head of Spetsnaz Alpha. His profile will be well known to someone in your line of work.”
Korina continued to stare at Will, before asking, “He murdered my father?”
Will nodded. “Since then, he’s killed six other Russian MI6 agents. He’s got another three agents to murder. When that’s done, the world’s going to hell.”
He told her about Razin’s plan before asking, “You never knew that your father was an MI6 agent who worked for the same man as you?”
Korina shook her head; a tear ran down her face. “And my father never knew about my secret.” She wiped her face and composed herself. “Are you trying to trick me?”
“To what end? If we’re FSB, we’d have just arrested you.”
“Maybe you are who you say you are. But perhaps you’re not telling me the truth about the real reason you
