The Last Soviet, page 25
Alina growled but dropped back into her seat. Volkov returned to his own beside Katarina, and she took his hand as the flight attendant entered.
“Can I get anybody anything?”
“Vodka,” echoed the three Russians, and Acton couldn’t help but laugh.
“I think I’ll just have a Diet Coke.”
“Sparkling water for me,” said Laura. “Oh, and ask the captain how long it’ll be before we land in London.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “London? We’re not going to London, ma’am. We’re going to Frankfurt.”
72 |
Over the Mediterranean
Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson sat in his seat in the C-5 Galaxy, loaded with priority evacuees from Afghanistan. It had been a last-minute Hail Mary Charlie-Foxtrot to get these people out as the entire damn country they had fought twenty years to free, fell in less than two weeks. There was plenty of blame to go around, but none of that mattered right now. Their mission was complete and had been a success, every name on their list now out. Unfortunately, that list had dwindled as the mission had been prepped.
Too many had died in the Taliban onslaught.
Under his command, Bravo Team, a group of America’s most elite soldiers, part of 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta, had split into three groups and headed into enemy-controlled territory. Their mission, triggered by the outcry from veterans of that war which embarrassed administrations the world over, was to extract assets abandoned by America and its allies.
They had extracted their people with no problems, the Taliban spread thin, half a dozen people all it took to capture a town too terrified they would be skinned alive if they resisted. Too much of the country, including the capital city, had simply capitulated. He had fought here too many times to count during his career, and his heart ached at the price paid in human blood over two decades, all the gains lost in less than two weeks.
It was already taking an emotional toll on him and the others. He couldn’t imagine how the hundreds of thousands that had served here must be feeling right now as they watched the news, especially those who had sacrificed their bodies, who had sacrificed their minds. Or how the families who had lost their loved ones felt with the knowledge their son or daughter, their father or mother, their brother or sister, had died for a lie.
They had been told by a grateful nation that their loved ones had died fighting to bring freedom and justice to the Afghan people. And where was that freedom, where was that justice, when in two short weeks it could all fall apart? Why was this country so ill-prepared? Why were their people willing to surrender to the Taliban so easily?
His comms squawked in his ear. “Bravo Zero-One, Control, come in over.”
He activated his mic. “Control, Zero-One, go ahead, over.”
“Zero-One, we’re sending you an encrypted packet now. We’re going to need your men for a covert op in Germany, over.”
His eyebrow shot up as he pulled out his laptop and logged in. “Control, did you say Germany?”
“Affirmative, Zero-One. All the details are in the packet.”
He looked at his exhausted men. They had been going at it non-stop for over 72 hours, only catnaps caught between hops. “Control, we’re pretty burnt. Is there another unit available?”
“Possibly, Zero-One, but Bravo Team has been specifically requested for this. It involves some old friends of yours. Academic friends.”
Dawson groaned, his head tilting back. “Let me guess, two professors?”
“Exactly. Looks like they’re in some trouble with the Russians. They’ve been let go and are heading for Frankfurt now.”
“Well, if they’ve been let go and are heading to Frankfurt, why do you need us?”
“Langley suspects they’re being used as bait to recover some documents that could prove embarrassing to the Russian government, and to either eliminate or perform an extraordinary rendition on a fugitive. The bigger fear is that they could be setting everyone up to eliminate anyone exposed to the documents.”
Dawson sighed. No matter how tired he was, no matter how tired his men were, the professors were friends, friends they owed. Friends they owed big. And the fact these same professors would drop everything, no matter how exhausted they were, to help him or one of his men, made the decision easy. “Copy that, Control. Has the pilot been informed?”
“Negative, Zero-One. You’ll continue to Ramstein. There’ll be a helo waiting to take you to your target.”
“Copy that, Control. I’ll read the brief then get back to you.”
“Copy that, Zero-One. Control, out.”
There was no privacy on a C-5 configured the way it was, so any of his men that had been asleep were now awake, woken by a comrade who had overheard his conversation. Everyone was either turned in their seats to face him, or standing close by.
“What’s up, BD?” asked Sergeant Carl “Niner” Sung, the smart-ass of the group and the best sniper Dawson had ever worked with.
Dawson brought up the briefing notes. “Apparently, our professor friends have pissed off the Russians somehow. Langley thinks they’re being set up for a possible clean-up operation.”
The amply muscled Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James grunted, his impossibly deep voice drowning out the vibrations of the plane. “Those two do have a penchant for trouble.”
Niner gave him a look. “Penchant? Did Vanessa get you a word of the day calendar or something?”
Atlas eyed him. “I read. You should try it sometimes. It’s amazing how it expands the vocabulary.”
Niner shook his head as he rolled his eyes. “You do know those letters aren’t real, don’t you?”
Master Sergeant Mike “Red” Belme snorted. “Do those magazines even exist anymore? It’s all free on the Internet.”
Sergeant Will “Spock” Lightman cocked an eyebrow. “But I thought everybody read them for the articles.”
Dawson let the verbal sparring continue as he scanned the briefing notes. “Okay, if you ladies are done, here’s the scoop. For those of you who were involved in the incident between the Russians and Japanese, you might remember the name Professor Arseny Orlov. While our Georgian operation successfully rescued Acton and his friends with the imperial regalia, what you probably didn’t know is that Professor Orlov was imprisoned. He escaped with the assistance of others who were involved, and has been living in exile in Germany since then under a new identity. He was supposed to never contact anyone from his past, but he broke that condition and reached out to Professor Acton, claiming documents that could rewrite history had been discovered, and he needed them to come and retrieve them in Moscow.”
Sergeant Gerry “Jimmy Olsen” Hudson whistled. “‘Rewrite history’ are like trigger words for those two.”
Dawson had to agree. “They went to Moscow to meet Orlov, but it turns out it was a set-up. He wasn’t there. They found three young Russians who actually had the documents and yada yada yada, the Russians let them all go after capturing them, and they’re now on a plane about to land in Frankfurt. Add to that, our friend Jack and the same asset that effected Orlov’s escape were also captured and also set free.”
“Did the Rooskies recover the documents?” asked Spock.
“Negative. The other asset managed to pass on the documents before they were arrested. Right now, even Langley doesn’t know where they are, but they believe the Russians let everyone go in the hopes that someone would lead them to the documents and possibly Orlov.”
“And just what are these documents?” asked Red.
“Apparently, they prove that Stalin murdered Lenin.”
Niner’s eyes narrowed. “Huh, wasn’t that like a million years ago?”
“Not quite, but close enough.”
“Then why the hell are they so determined to get their hands on them? I get why the professors want them, but why the Russians?”
“The analyst report suggests that their release had the potential to embarrass the Russian president, since he’s been manipulating history so the Russian population has a favorable opinion of Stalin. That way he can use him as an example to pave his way to a permanent presidency, unencumbered by inconvenient elections.”
“Yeah, you have to hate those pesky voters, always wanting you to be answerable to them,” said Spock. “To call that country a democracy is a joke.”
Dawson agreed. “You won’t get any argument from me. Bottom line is, they’re concerned this is some sort of set-up, and we’ve been specifically requested to provide protection. I know you’re all tired after everything we’ve just been through―”
Niner interrupted. “Count me in. The Doc’s wife is still my first love. If anything ever happened to her, I couldn’t live with myself. And I’d probably feel pretty bad if something happened to the Doc, too.”
Atlas eyed him. “I wonder how Angela would feel about that.”
“Hey, I said first love. I didn’t say current.”
Jimmy leaned forward to get a better angle on Niner. “So, what you’re saying is you love Angela?”
Niner froze. “Did I say that?”
“You definitely implied it,” said Atlas.
Niner shrugged. “It’s none of your business how I feel.”
Atlas clutched at his heart, anguish on his face. “But I thought with all the times you tried to sport-hump me, I was your only love.”
The men roared as Niner leaped from his seat and into Atlas’ lap, wrapping his arms around the impossibly muscled man. “Say the word, big guy, and I’m yours.”
Atlas hurled the tiny man across the cabin with an effortless shove. Spock and Jimmy caught their comrade and helped him back to his feet as Atlas jabbed a meaty finger at his best friend. “Didn’t we just have a conversation regarding boundaries?”
Niner rose then dropped back to his seat. “I thought that was just foreplay.”
“You’re a troubled man.”
“I am, but that’s why you love me.”
Spock cocked an eyebrow. “So, let me get this straight, you love the professor, you love Angela, and you love Atlas?”
“I have a whole lotta love in my heart that needs to be shared.”
“Huh, a little man like you can love four people?”
Niner cocked an eyebrow at Spock. “Four?”
Spock jerked a thumb toward the massive Atlas. “I count him twice. Have you seen the size of that guy?”
Atlas extended a fist and Spock bumped it. “Thank you, brother.”
“I wasn’t talking about your junk.”
“Oh, I guess I should have known, otherwise you would have counted me as three people.”
Even Dawson joined in on the laughter before putting an end to things by raising his hand. “So, is everybody up for this?”
A round of “Yes, Sergeant Major!” was their response.
“Good, everybody get some rack time. We’re going to be landing at Ramstein shortly, and who the hell knows when we’re going to get our next chance at some shut-eye.”
73 |
Frankfurt am Main Airport Frankfurt, Germany
Acton and the others cleared customs in Frankfurt, Germany, not the expected London, England. The reason given by the flight crew was that they received last-minute instructions from the lease-share company with the new destination and no explanation. They hadn’t bothered challenging the change in plans. There had to be a rationale for it, and the old man that approached them with a broad smile and a striking woman on his arm would hopefully provide them an explanation shortly.
The man extended a hand. “Professor Acton, I’m Alex West. I’m an acquaintance of Viktor Zorkin.”
The woman pshawed that statement. “When are you going to acknowledge the fact that you two are friends?”
West granted. “Fine, I am a friend of Viktor Zorkin’s, whom I believe you know.”
Acton nodded. “Yes, we’ve met. You know Dylan?”
“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him. A good man.”
“Yes, he is. Not a very good archaeology student, but a good man.”
West chuckled as he shook Laura’s hand. Introductions were made and they were led to the parking lot where West waved a wand over them. “Just checking for tracking devices.”
“Find any?” asked Acton.
West finished Alina. “Nope, you’re all clean.” He indicated a large SUV. “Let’s get to our destination, shall we?” They climbed into the vehicle, the three Russians occupying the back row, Acton and Laura in the middle, with their two hosts in the front seats.
Acton leaned forward as they got underway. “Why were we diverted to Frankfurt?”
West glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Because we believe Professor Orlov is still in the area, and we hope to draw him out. If you went to London and notified him that you had the papers, it would have taken too much time for him to get there, and we believe time is of the essence.”
“Why is that?” asked Laura.
“Because this is likely a set-up,”
Acton tensed. “A set-up?”
“Yes, Professor. The Russians let you go too easily. They’re hoping you’ll lead them to Orlov and the documents.”
“Then why play into their hands? Why not just have us contact Orlov and tell him we don’t have the documents. He stays in hiding and we get on with our lives.”
West shook his head. “Because that’s not the way things work with Russia. You pissed them off, and those documents apparently have the potential to embarrass the Russian president and worse, interfere with his agenda. If he decides to do a clean-up operation, you’re all dead. It’s best to nip this in the bud now.”
Laura gripped Acton’s hand. “And just how do you propose to do that?”
“We’re going with your original plan. You’re going to validate the documents, then we’re going to make them public.”
“But we don’t have the documents. We passed them on to Jack.”
Adelle leaned forward then raised a bag she had stowed in the footwell. “They arrived shortly before you did.”
Acton and Laura exchanged relieved sighs. “Thank God! That means Jack’s okay?” asked Acton.
“Oh, he was arrested along with Zorkin, but their covers are solid so they were released around the same time as you. Their involvement is finished, as they can’t risk breaking their covers for now.”
“Where are we going?” asked Acton.
“My place,” replied West.
“Your place? Shouldn’t we be going to a police station or something? If the Russians are coming after us, we’re going to need some sort of protection.”
“It’s been arranged. I want you to send a message to Professor Orlov telling him that you have the papers and want to meet.”
Acton pulled out his phone then hesitated. “Wait a minute. Isn’t he under your protection?”
West grunted, clearly displeased. “He was until he went rogue.”
“So, you don’t know where he is?”
“No idea. We went to his house and every indication is that he’s been gone for at least a week, if not two.”
“But we didn’t get a message from him until last night.”
Volkov leaned forward. “And I didn’t even find the papers until two nights ago.”
Adelle retrieved her own phone and brought up some photos before handing it back to them. Acton flipped through the shots of a home, including a picture of rotting bread, lending credence to the claim Orlov had disappeared days before he should have. He handed the phone to Laura who swiped her thumb several times then paused, holding the phone up.
“Do you see anything wrong with this picture?”
He squinted at a photo of what appeared to be Orlov’s living room. “Too many earth tones, not enough pops of color?”
She gave him a look. “If he’s been gone as long as that rotting loaf of bread would indicate, those plants should be at a minimum showing signs of stress.”
It was his turn to give her a look. “Plants can get stressed?”
“If you don’t water a plant, things start to droop.”
He suppressed the urge to make a joke about plant Viagra, and instead took the phone and zoomed in on several of the plants, all of which appeared healthy to him.
“Let me see that.” Adelle reached back and took the phone. “I can’t believe we missed that!” She held the phone up for West to see, but he shook his head.
“I’m driving here.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s a type of plant that can go for weeks without water.”
Laura shook her head. “No, not these. If they go a week without water, everything will be drooping. These were all watered within a few days of you taking those photos, and besides, I’m British. We know our gardening.”
West cursed. “That means he’s coming back to the house!”
“That would be rather foolish, wouldn’t it?” Adelle stared at the photos of the lovingly maintained plants. “Why would he risk being seen or caught? It makes no sense.”
Acton had to agree. It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know Orlov well, though he did know people who loved their plants as if they were people, talking to them, singing lovingly, maintaining them with care. Could Orlov have hatched his plan and disappeared only to return to take care of his beloved plants? It was possible, though if he feared his life was at stake, it was indeed foolish.
A thought occurred to him. After he and Laura had decided they were buying a larger home, his mind had occasionally drifted to what should be included. “How well do you know this house?”
Adelle twisted in her seat to make eye contact. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the layout. How many rooms there are, how big they are, the basement, everything.”
Adelle shrugged. “I don’t know it at all. Alex?”
Alex splayed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Not very well. I’ve been to visit him, just to check in on him every couple of months, but it’s usually just his living room. I’ve probably only been in his kitchen, main floor bath, and living area. That’s about it. Why? What are you getting at?”
_preview.jpg)
_preview.jpg)
_preview.jpg)
