Black Ghosts (34 page)

And as for the airport, Rogov had reviewed Yazarinsky's plan and was confident it would work. Within a matter of hours, the Black Ghosts' control of Moscow's airports would be complete.

Peter felt a surge of energy flow through him. The decisive time was approaching, and Peter was ready to meet his destiny. Within the next eighteen hours, history would be made.

 

 

 

The jeep cleared a turn in the road. Only when it was too late to turn back or get off the road did they notice the roadblock ahead. Like a fly caught in a spider's web, the jeep slowed to a halt, engulfed by the spotlight that burst into life as they came into sight of the centuries. Edward's heart was pounding. The two men in front exchanged a few words. Edward's ear for Russian was developing to the extent that he could sense the note of alarm in their voices.

If they turned and tried to get away, they would undoubtedly be pursued. The only thing to do was try to ride it out. There were stony-faced soldiers in greatcoats all around the jeep. They peered inside, shined flashlights through the windows, and then ordered the three men out. They were made to lean with their hands against the windows of the jeep while the soldiers frisked them.

As long as he had his back to them, Edward was happy. They did not seem to have a copy of his photo or be looking for him in particular. That he could sense almost from the start. From his experience in the military, he knew that soldiers were rarely interested in catching someone. All they probably wanted was to get back to whatever they were doing before the jeep showed up. As if to prove the point, one soldier pointed a flashlight into Edward's face, eyeing him suspiciously. He said something in Russian to Edward's companions, who replied in brief, terse phrases. Then, as though they really couldn't be bothered anymore, the soldiers ordered them back into the jeep and allowed them to drive away.

They drove on for another fifteen minutes, the last five of which were spent jolting down an unpaved track. They ended up at a white farmhouse surrounded by a few trees, beyond which, lit by the ghost of a moon behind the scattered clouds, stretched an open field.

Several vehicles were parked in the front yard. Behind the house, there were piles of scrap metal and pieces of earth-moving equipment. Without the benefit of daylight to show the deep rust on the machinery, it appeared that the work on the airfield had stopped only hours before, to resume the next morning. The house itself, a two-story brick structure, was in darkness. The walls, covered with wilted ivy, only added to the scene of neglect.

Walking closer to the main door, they could hear the sound of laughter from inside the seemingly deserted dwelling. Just as they were about to knock on the door, someone behind them shouted, “Astanaveetyes!”

From the tone in which it was said, Edward could understand he was being ordered to stop. “Rucka na Galava,” said a second voice to the right. Looking at his escorts, Edward saw them place their hands on their heads. He did the same, then one of his escorts started to speak. He could hear the name Sergei mentioned, then “amerikanski.” It was about then that one of the guards who had stopped them walked up to the door and, leaving them outside with their hands on their heads, went inside. Several seconds later he emerged with a big smile and a very large man by his side. Through the open door, Edward could see the place was filled with men in camouflage outfits. The air was heavy with a stench of cheap cigarette smoke and the stale odor of beer.

“You put hands down, it okay.” The big man extended his hand to Edward. “I Yuri. You say what you like, I get.” He gestured for them to follow him inside.

The soldiers, some holding a beer, others seated on the floor with their backs to the wall, holding on to their Kalashnikov assault rifles, nodded lazily to the newcomers. Yuri led Edward through to a large kitchen. On the way, he noticed that all the windows had been blacked out with heavy cardboard.

In the middle of the kitchen was a long wooden table, bearing the scars of countless chopping knives, scalding pots and pans, and other signs of use. At the far end of the table sat a tall, slim man with smooth dark hair.

“Good evening, my friend,” said Colonel Sokolov. “I thought you'd never get here.”

Edward greeted the colonel warmly. “I'm glad to see you. I was wondering if you would manage to get out in time.”

“Get out in time?” Sokolov looked puzzled.

Edward told him about the ambush at the safe house. Even if the goons had not recognized Sokolov's car, Anton the driver was probably now in the hands of the Black Ghosts' interrogators. Unless the man was extremely brave or extremely insensitive to pain, he would have revealed that Colonel Sokolov had turned against them.

Sokolov's face was grave. “Neither the car nor the driver were known to the Black Ghosts. As for Anton, all my men carry a cyanide capsule, just in case. We know that talking might get us a quicker end, something we can provide for ourselves. I am afraid that by now he will have had occasion to use it.” Sokolov remained silent for a moment. “How did they find out about the safe house?”

Edward explained how Natalie had deceived them.

“Why did you bring Natalie to the safe house, if you didn't need her there? Were you in love with her?”

“No!” said Edward, his teeth clenched. Only now did he realize it was true. He wasn't in love, he was infatuated with her. And his emotional confusion had come back to haunt him. “I'm sorry about your friend.”

Sokolov looked at him sternly. “Anton was a soldier, loyal to mother Russia, as I am. We are fighting a war, never forget that.”

Edward nodded. “There's another thing,” he said. “She knows we're trying to get the president to land at a different airport. So I guess your general knows about that too. Maybe they'll try and take Domodedovo.”

Sokolov got to his feet. “I will try to contact Lieutenant-Colonel Orlov and warn him.” He strode out, and Edward could hear him talking with the men in the other room. He had a natural command and charisma that some might find arrogant, but Yuri and his men seemed to readily fall in with his wishes. Then he could hear him talking louder on the phone. A few minutes later he came back into the kitchen.

“I hope he will get my message. I had to leave it with one of his lieutenants. Orlov is out on rounds at the moment and could not be reached in person. I will try again later. Now, let us start to make our plans.”

 

“Well?” Rogov fixed his eye on Yakov, who remained several feet back from the large desk, like a child frightened of getting too close to an angry teacher. “Do they, or do they not have him?”

“We can't be sure, sir. We can only assume that he's there. We have no one in that organization.”

“Why not?”

“Well, sir, like all the rest of the underworld, they were tagged for elimination. Once we have control they will be rounded up and liquidated. And they were never regarded as a threat to us, sir. So there was no point in trying to infiltrate them.”

“If I may,” Major Androva said, her voice soft and soothing, “the colonel is quite right, but only regarding the gangsters. When it comes to the American, it's a different story. We know he managed to change the landing location of the president's plane. That means he has made contact with someone high enough up to do so. We also know that he has a group of extremely well-trained soldiers coming in on a stolen plane. Their sole purpose in coming here is to stop what we are doing.” She turned to look at Yakov. Her voice was still low, but now it was more like the hiss of a snake. “The Americans are a threat; we must stop them all before it is too late.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Yakov asked somewhat sarcastically. “Russia is not a small island. It is fairly easy to get lost here, even if you don't intend to. What we need to do is find this Edward. He's the key. If we get him, they are lost.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Major,” the general interrupted, leaning back in his seat, “please get to the point. We have a coup to attend to, and we do not have all night.”

“I don't believe Edward would not have some contingency plan for them. If he is eliminated, someone else will be ready to take over. We should find them and eliminate them before they can harm us.”

“But how?” Yakov shrugged.

“We know they are coming by plane. We know it's not a scheduled flight, so that eliminates all the regular airports, which we control anyway and they know it. We know they are going to land somewhere outside Moscow.” She walked over to a large map of the city on the wall opposite the general's desk. “How many places are there around here where you could land a large plane? Where else could they land? If we can figure that out, we've got them.”

Yakov smiled. “Why didn't you get it out of your American when you had him—or were you too busy playing the part?” Before he had finished his sentence, he realized from the general's expression that it was a mistake to say what he did. There was a moment of silence in the room. They both looked at him. Yakov lowered his eyes to look at his boots. “I apologize, Major. That remark was totally uncalled for.”

“You are a very lucky man, Yakov,” the general said, “but you are also very stupid. I see that you are afraid of me and yet you allow yourself to speak this way to her. If I were you, from now on I would sleep with one eye open.”

“I'm sorry,” Yakov said, feeling very small.

“My dear,” the general said as if nothing had happened, getting up from his seat. “I have a final coordination meeting to attend in the CIC room in five minutes. I want you to take whatever you need and get these men. I'm placing clever little Yakov here under your command.” The general again stared at the small man, who was clearly unhappy with what he was hearing. “I want you to get this Edward and his men.” He turned to Yakov. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” He snapped to attention. The general walked out, leaving the young colonel and the beautiful woman standing in his office.

“So what do you propose we do?” Yakov asked bitterly.

“We have to handle it on two fronts,” she said, seating herself in the general's chair.

Yakov's eyes opened wide, surprised at her audacity. “You will go to the Pozharsky Corporation offices and conduct a raid, even though I doubt very much if the American is there.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I did some checking. I found out that the safe house where Edward was hiding belonged to one of Sergei Pozharsky's people. Edward was in with them from the start. He met someone in Kirov, during a train stop on the way to Moscow. When he came here he already had a name.”

“So what?”

“Don't you see? The airfield, the safe house, everything he has or is getting comes from Pozharsky, and Pozharsky doesn't give anything away. He does things for money.”

Yakov was getting his nerve back, and he chuckled. “What's your point? Pozharsky is a gangster. What did you think he was doing things for?”

“Let me enlighten you, my Muzik,” she said, using the word for the lowest form of peasant to offend the small officer. “Edward has a lot of money. He had almost three hundred thousand dollars on him in cash, and could probably get millions if he only wanted to. The man behind him, Larry Williams, has access to as much money as they might need. Now you see why I'm very doubtful Pozharsky will hand him over to you. This is a trick. Edward is probably already at the airfield. And his men should be arriving any minute.”

Yakov's face was serious as he walked over to look at the map next to her chair.

“Like I said,” she went on, “we have to tackle this thing on two fronts.” She stood up and spread her palm over the map and ran it in a circle around the city. “Somewhere here there is an airstrip where they are going to land. We must find it and eliminate them before it's too late. You take your men and arrest Pozharsky. If you find the American, just make sure you don't kill him.”

“You like the guy?” Yakov smirked.

“Don't start with me again, you fool. I've killed better men than you for much less, and them I loved. We need him to talk. He made plans when I was not with him. He had someone on the inside working with him. I need to know who. Could it be you, little man?” She sounded tough, angry. Yakov backed off a step. “What are you waiting for? Go get the man. Call me here if you have anything.” She looked at the map again. Now her voice was low, as if she was talking to herself. “Where could they land a goddamn plane?” She was still looking at the map as Yakov quietly left the office.

Major Androva walked out of the general's office and made her way to the CIC room. In the glass-paneled office at the corner of the large room, the general was talking to a group of officers gathered around a metal desk. Androva crossed the room to one of the computer operators. “Who handles the radar maps?”

The young man took his headset off one ear. “What did you say, Major?”

“I said, who handles the radar maps?”

“What is it you need?”

“I need to see the radar coverage around the city and then for a larger area.” She looked at the map of Russia. “Say, as far as the Baltic.”

The young man, very much aware of the woman in the uniform, turned his swivel chair and pointed at a screen on the wall. “I'll put it on that screen for you.”

Androva nodded to him. “By the way, is that a live radar reading or just a schematic?”