Black Flagged Redux (45 page)

He caught up with Farrington and Reznikov at the bottom of the stairwell and saw that Farrington had resorted to punching Reznikov to keep him moving. The scientist was bleeding from the nose and mouth now, and Farrington looked like he was a second away from slamming the scientist's head against the wall. Maybe he already had. Petrovich kicked the stairwell door open and ran through the lobby onto the sidewalk. The Volvo was gone, jammed against a sedan a few spaces down on the other side of the street. His view of the café across the street was blocked by their white VW Transporter van. Hubner stood in front of the van with his assault rifle ready. Police sirens grew louder, echoing through the tight streets. He could see light blue flashes from a police car two blocks from the entrance to their stretch of Bondegatan.

"Throw a smoke down the street," Daniel said and nodded toward the turn they had taken onto Bondegatan.

Hubner reacted immediately and reached into his jacket pocket to withdraw a soda can sized gray cylinder. He ran to the back of the van and rested his G-36C against the bumper. In one motion, he pulled the pin from the smoke grenade and hurled it as far as he could down Bondegatan. It landed a few meters past Schafer's body and exploded in a thick, billowing white cloud. The effect was immediate and completely obscured the entrance to this stretch of Bondegatan.

While Hubner took care of the smoke screen, Daniel heaved the carton of papers into the van and took off back into the building to help Farrington. He had seen Leo propped up in the back row, barely conscious. His entire right shoulder had been covered with a pasty red mixture of Celox and blood. From the brief glance he managed to steal, it looked like the hemostatic powder had stopped the bleeding.

He caught up with Farrington at the lobby stairs, and together they manhandled Reznikov into the van. Daniel heard tires screeching beyond the persistent, thick smoke, coupled with piercing sirens. He figured these were first responders and wanted to discourage any heroics.

"Drop a smoke next to the van, and get us out of here," he said, furiously unscrewing the suppressor on the MP-7.

While Hubner pulled the pin on another smoke grenade, Daniel removed the suppressor and changed magazines. He pointed the unsuppressed weapon out of the van's open side door and fired most of the forty rounds into the silver Renault. Screaming ensued from several locations on the street, and he heard tires screech beyond the smoke as the lightly armed police officers presumably thought better of keeping their cars exposed to automatic gunfire.

He slammed the door shut and turned to get into the front passenger seat. Reznikov's body stiffened and arched like he was trying to get up. Farrington tried to shove him back into the bench seat, but Reznikov's body didn't budge. Petrovich punched him in the groin and his eyes rolled back into his head. He went into convulsions as the van lurched forward out of the smoke.

"Fuck, I think we're losing him," Farrington said.

"Just keep him in his seat until we're clear of this mess. Hubner, take your first left and head north back into the city."

Daniel pushed his way past Farrington and dropped into the passenger seat. He grabbed one of three remaining smoke grenades and lowered his window. Glancing out of the open window, he saw something he would never have expected.

**

Senior Sergeant Daniil Karev furtively watched the operatives shove Reznikov into the van. He was the lone surviving member of his team, mainly because he had decided at the outset of the ambush to serve as Moscow's insurance policy. The street battle had lasted less than thirty seconds. As the gunfire died, he was confident that he had made the right decision. Their mission had been clear. Capture or kill Reznikov. If he'd opted to fight, there was little doubt in his mind that his blood would have filled the Stockholm sewers. Restraint kept him alive, and he'd have one more shot at completing their mission.

A long burst of automatic gunfire filled the street with more sounds of civilian panic. Close to him, he heard a stifled scream from the woman that had hidden herself in a recessed doorway. He stood up and turned his back on the van, which had started to move up the street. He passed the sobbing woman, who was huddled against the dark green door in the shelter of the concrete alcove. She clutched a red handbag and appeared startled by his sudden appearance. Karev took a few steps past the doorway and gripped the PP2000 in both hands. He was fully prepared to spin around and fire several well aimed bursts of armor-piercing bullets into the van. He kept walking as the van's engine grew louder. One more second and…

His chin was yanked backward, followed by an incredibly intense burning across his neck. His knees buckled and the PP2000 was yanked from his hands. A strong forearm kept his head back, and he felt three painful sharp jabs to his lower back, followed by a complete release of the pressure locking his head back. Unable to control his legs, he fell to his knees and toppled onto his left side as the van sped by. Through his fading vision, he saw a blonde woman wearing gray walk quickly up the street. She tossed his PP2000 under a car and readjusted her oversized, red leather handbag.

**

Daniel locked eyes with the woman in the gray suit again. Considering what he'd just seen her do to the Russian operative, he wanted to stop the van. They could use someone like that to help them get out of the city. Just as the thought emerged, she broke eye contact and leaned over to dispose of the submachine gun she had cut loose from the Russian's body sling. He dropped the grenade as they approached the turn. If they could get off Bondegatan unobserved, the smoke screen would confuse police units long enough for them to escape.

Currently, no police units would have a detailed description of their vehicle. Civilian emergency calls might identify a white van, but they had just passed four white vans parked on this street alone, not to mention the Russians' van. As traffic picked up in Stockholm, there wouldn't be enough police in all of Scandinavia to stop and search every white van on the streets. Hubner took the left turn at Bondegatan and Farrington slammed against the van door.

"Take it easy! Daniel, he's not breathing."

Daniel turned around in his seat and saw that Reznikov indeed looked like he had gone into cardiac arrest. Leo had spilled out of the rear bench onto the floor. His eyes fluttered open and he grimaced, which was a good sign. He turned his attention back to the road and grabbed one of their maps, unfolding it.

"I need to concentrate on getting us out of here, or we’re all fucked," he said.

"His heart is racing like crazy! If Reznikov dies, we're most certainly fucked," Farrington yelled.

"I'm working on it!" Petrovich said.

"Working on what?"

Petrovich ignored him and concentrated on the map. He located what he was looking for. "Take a right onto Folkungagatan, then your first left on Renstiernesgata," he said.

"Got it," Hubner replied.

As they stopped at their first cross street, he saw a police car approach the intersection from the right and reached back with his left hand to grab his MP-7 from the cardboard carton behind his seat. Hubner expeditiously accelerated the van through the intersection and Daniel dropped the map to adjust the side mirror so he could see behind the van. He watched the police car turn left at the intersection and speed the wrong way down the one-way road. Another police car followed a few seconds later. They were clear for now. He wondered how long it would take them to figure out that they weren't still sitting in front of 22 Bondegatan. The smoke screens would start to clear in a few minutes.

They passed one more road and approached Folkungagatan. Several police cars and a formidable-looking van sped through the light, followed by two additional police cars that turned on their street, forcing them to squeeze the van as far over as possible to let them pass. Once the police cars sped through the bottleneck, Daniel smiled at Hubner, who raised his eyebrows.

"Take a right here," Daniel said.

"Maybe we should take him to a hospital. We can take hostages and hold off the police until we can get some information out of him. I don't give a fuck if we're captured. Once we get the information, the Swedes won't care about any of this," Farrington said.

"He has a point," Hubner added.

"Left here," Daniel said, "and keep your eyes peeled for a Metro station up on our left. Slussen Station."

"The Metro?" Farrington said.

"I have a plan," Daniel said.

"You have less than a minute to put your plan into action, or we're storming the nearest hospital."

The van turned left after burning up nearly twenty seconds of Daniel's allotted time. He could sense that Farrington was close to snapping on him.

"Give me that minute when we hit the Metro station," he said.

"I'll give you thirty seconds. If you're not back in the van, we're leaving you," Farrington said.

They cruised through another green light before the road eased left onto a wide road that overlooked Stockholm's old city waterfront. The distance ahead of them on the road looked vast.

"Where the fuck is this Metro station? His heart is going haywire!" Farrington said.

"Just ahead. Trust me on this," Daniel said.

As the van pulled past several modern buildings on the right side, the Metro station entrance suddenly appeared.

"There it is! Slussen Station! Double park and keep an eye out for police."

The van pulled even with the covered Metro entrance, and Daniel burst out of the door, sprinting through traffic for the escalator. He pushed past several civilians and reached the Metro floor, glancing around. He found what he was looking for near the turnstile, along the wall next to a bank of telephones. He just hoped Farrington didn't hold him to thirty seconds. He was already well past that deadline. Less than twenty seconds later, Daniel emerged from the ground and ran to the van. He tossed the bright yellow plastic Automated External Defibrillator over the front passenger seat at Farrington and hopped in the van as it took off toward downtown Stockholm.

"Bring him back to life while Hubner gets us through Stockholm. I need to make a call."

Chapter 51

1:07 AM

CIA Headquarters

Langley, Virginia

The wall-mounted communications LCD flashed a number that was immediately recognized by Berg.

"It's the Stockholm team. Patch the call through on speaker," Berg said.

"This is Berg. You're on with the entire Ops center. What is Reznikov's status?"

Daniel's voice filled the room. It was obvious from the background static and white noise that they were on the road.

"Barely alive. He had some kind of fucking seizure. His heart started doing all kinds of shit. We have him hooked up to a portable AED, but I don't know how much longer he's going to last. The thing's already shocked him three times."

"Keep him hooked up to the AED. What about the rest of your team?" Berg said.

"One of my men is seriously wounded and requires immediate medical attention. We left two others dead on the street. We just headed north on…what the fuck is…Birger Jarlsgatan? These street names are killing me."

"Understood. What happened to the Russian team?"

"Ten of them. All dead. We need to transfer vehicles immediately. Possibly split up," Daniel said.

"Did you recover any of the bioweapon?"

"Negative. We grabbed some papers. We didn't have time to search his apartment," Daniel said.

"Send him to the Ostermalm district. Tell him to take his next right," the operations watch officer said.

Berg glanced at the main screen above him and searched the Ostermalm district for an icon representing one of the replacement vans that had been activated.

"I have a van close to your position. Take your next right."

"I assume the van isn't white?" Petrovich said.

"It's blue," the watch officer reassured him.

"After the transfer, I need you to make your way north to E18. I'll direct you to a safe house in a quiet place called Viggbyholm. We're sending a discreet medical team to the same location. Keep Reznikov alive until you get there."

"It's all up to this machine. How far away is the safe house?" Petrovich said.

The route suddenly appeared on the wall monitor, extending from the current location of the transfer van to a location well north of the city.

"Seventeen kilometers. Twenty minutes without traffic. I'm estimating thirty to forty minutes for you right now," the watch officer said, reading what had been typed into a visible data field on the screen by their Scandinavian analyst.

"We'll get him there. Make sure there are enough medical personnel on scene to treat my guy at the same time. We just turned right on Sturegatan."

"Take your second right onto Linnegatan. The van is headed your way. It'll meet you in less than a minute at the corner of Linnegatan and Nybrogatan," the watch officer said, nodding at Berg.

"I understand your priorities," Berg said.

"Let's just make sure the medical team understands them," Petrovich said.

"Our van is parked in a handicapped space in front of a dark green awning that reads 'Gold and Silver,'" the watch officer said.

"Copy. We just turned onto Linnegatan. I'll be in touch shortly," Petrovich said.

The call went dead, and Berg looked over at Audra Bauer and Thomas Manning.

"We just need to keep them away from the police," Berg said, walking over to the two of them.

"That would certainly put a halt to this show," Manning said.

"That's the problem. This crew won't let a few police cars get in their way. They just took down an entire Spetznaz team. Probably a Zaslon team. The best in the business."

"Who exactly did we get involved with?" Manning said in a lowered voice.

"The only people who stood a chance of snatching Reznikov away from the Russians. I'd consider us to be extremely fortunate," Berg said.