Endgame (Agent 21) (20 page)

‘
You get the money
,’ said a voice. ‘
I’ll check the others ain’t on their way back.
’

‘
Wait! That window wasn’t open when we left . . .
’

Ricky’s muscles froze. He held his breath as the two sets of footsteps moved past the table to the window.

Silence.

A scraping sound as one of the two men lifted the loose floorboard. ‘
’S gone!
’ he growled.

‘
They must’ve escaped through the window. After them. Quick!
’

– If they notice there’s no tracks in the snow
, said the voice in Ricky’s head,
you’re finished
.

Ricky didn’t need telling twice. His only option now was to escape through the front door and hope his own tracks got mixed up with those of the drug dealers. And he had only seconds in which to do it . . .

He listened hard. There was the chinking of crockery as the two guys clambered over the sink. One thud, then two, as they jumped through the window.

– Now!

Ricky scurried out from under the table and checked, with a single glance, that he was alone in the room. Then he sprinted to the main door and hurtled out into the snow. Still clutching the bag of money, he followed the tracks directly away from the house. He looked over his right shoulder to check he wasn’t in the line of sight of the two men. No sign of them.

The snow was still heavy. By the time he was thirty metres from the house, he reckoned he was out of sight. He curled off to the right, doing his utmost to keep his bearings. He hoped he was heading north. If he continued in this direction, he would eventually find the tracks he’d left on his way towards the house. His heart thumped in his chest as he ran, and although it was cold, he was sweating heavily. His feet slipped occasionally in the snow, but he managed to stay upright.

After five minutes, he hit his own tracks. He allowed himself a moment to stop, regain his breath, and listen. He thought he could perhaps hear shouting on the wind, but it was very distant, and impossible to tell which direction it came from. He gulped down some more lungfuls of air, then started retracing his steps back to the forest.

It took ten minutes to reach the tree line again. He suddenly felt safer, but that feeling of security didn’t last for more than thirty seconds. Because suddenly, as if from nowhere, he heard a sound he recognized from the previous night. A high-pitched howl that seemed to cut through him just as it cut through the air.

– It’s a wolf.

– Stay calm. Remember what Zak said. They don’t attack unless they’re desperate . . .

Somehow, logic didn’t help. ‘Tasha!’ he hissed. ‘Zak! Where are you?’

Silence.

Ricky cursed under his breath. Where
were
they? He was, all of a sudden, shivering badly. He peered into the gloom of the forest, then out beyond the tree line. No sign of anyone.

Another howl. Closer this time. A second wolf answered the call. It was just as close, but coming from a different direction.

Ricky wanted to run with every ounce of his being. It took immense self-control to stay put. Zak’s RV strategy was clear – Ricky was only to move north if this location was occupied.

He pressed himself up against a tree trunk just as a fourth howl cut through the air. He sensed movement to his eleven o’clock, deeper in the forest. Maybe twenty metres away, he wasn’t sure. His heart was like a drum beating in his ears. He didn’t even want to look in the direction of the movement.

But he couldn’t help it.

He saw the eyes first. Cold, yellow eyes glinting through the darkness.

Ricky held his breath.

More movement.

The animal slinking towards him was thin and hungry-looking. It reminded Ricky of a cat stealthily stalking a mouse. Only this time, the mouse was him . . .

The wolf was fifteen metres away – and advancing – when Ricky saw movement from his nine o’clock. There was a second beast, just as lean and ravenous-looking as the first . . .

Both animals were ten metres away. He could see them much more clearly now. These wolves didn’t have the thick, luxurious coats he had seen in picture books. Their backs were covered with tufts of ragged fur, with occasional patches of piebald skin. They looked well used to fighting.

Nine metres . . .

– Shout out! Try to frighten them!

Ricky knew he should, but somehow he couldn’t. He heard a low growl from the animals’ throats. He hugged the bagful of money – as if
that
would do any good – and looked up into the branches of the tree against which his back was pressed. The lowest limb was three metres high. There was no way he could climb it.

Images of the wild bear from the previous night flashed through his mind. He remembered waving the burning branch at it. But tonight, he had no defence. And the wolves were still advancing.

Maybe he should run. But that would make the wolves’ chase instinct kick in . . .

Eight metres . . .

Seven . . .

‘Zak!’ he managed to shout hoarsely. ‘Tasha!
Help!
’ His voice sounded deadened and dull against the thick white blanket all around. The wolves growled deeply, both at the same time. They paused for a moment, and something seemed to pass between them.

Then they pounced.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. As the two wild animals lurched for him, there was a flash of white from his right-hand side. Ricky shouted out in alarm, but a fraction of a second later he realized what it was.

Snow.

Tasha’s husky was all fur, teeth and growls. He was a different animal to the one who had let Ricky scratch his neck: alert, strong and aggressive. With a fast and lithe movement, he positioned himself in the five metres of open ground between Ricky and the wolves. The two wild animals stopped in their tracks, a cloud of white powder bursting up all around them.

They pawed the earth, but Snow stood his ground.

Five seconds passed. For a horrific moment, the intensely hungry look in the wolves’ eyes made Ricky think they were going to attack the husky. But then Snow let out a low-throated growl, so deep that Ricky thought it might shake the snow from the trees. The two wolves scampered back a couple of metres.

Snow bounded forward. He growled again. One of the wolves howled – an empty but terrifying sound of frustration. Snow barked three times, then growled for a third time.

The wolves turned on their tails, and ran.

Someone whistled from further in the forest. Snow’s ears pricked up, and he bounded over to where a slight figure was standing beneath a tree. It was Tasha. Snow sat obediently at her feet.

‘Good dog,’ Ricky heard her say. ‘You’s a good dog.’

Midnight.

Cruz Martinez’s quarters were stark and military. Just like almost everywhere on Big Diomede island. It was a Russian military base, and such places are not known for their comfort. He had a room with a single bed, a desk and a sink with a mirror. Cruz was one of the wealthiest people in the world, but he was happy to live frugally.

As he stared in the mirror, he saw the face of someone who had not slept for many days. He hardly ever slept any more. Even when he did, he never felt refreshed. He had grown used to his reflection – those deep, black rings under the eyes of his thin face. He would stare at it for minutes at a time, vaguely wondering what had happened to the youthful features he once had. Not that he missed them.

Another figure appeared in the mirror. A broad-shouldered man in Russian military uniform. His nose was red from too much vodka, and his eyes were pale and watery. His name was Rostropovich, and he was not a man to cross.

‘You don’t know where he is, do you?’ he said in stilted English from the doorway.

Cruz turned slowly. ‘Of course I do.’ His voice was icy. ‘He is somewhere between Anchorage and here.’

‘That covers a lot of space, Martinez. I don’t like this plan of yours.’

‘You don’t like my plan?’ Cruz asked very quietly. ‘I fail to see how it could be any better. You want to get your hands on one of the British government’s most secret assets. Because he is not yet an adult, you are too scared to abduct him yourself. You want to lure him to an obscure, secure piece of Russian territory of his own accord, without him even knowing that he is walking into the jaws of your trap. You want the British to suspect that he has defected to you, but that you have had no hand in it. That is exactly what is happening. Trust me: Harry Gold will stop at nothing to rescue those pathetic creatures in Hangar 1H. He will step right into your clutches. And I’m not even charging you for my trouble, Rostropovich. All I ask is the opportunity to kill his two friends in front of him when he has arrived. That will be ample payment for me.’

Rostropovich’s eyes narrowed. ‘What if he doesn’t make it?’

Cruz walked towards him. ‘Then, Rostropovich, he will most likely die a lonely death on the Alaskan ice. I, for one, will not mourn him. But he is stronger and more determined than, for example, you. Cleverer too, although
that
is not so hard. He will be here, and I will be able to hand over your precious British spy, to interrogate in whatever depraved way you have in mind. From the look of it, he might even be bringing a friend or two.’ He gave a nasty kind of smile. ‘Buy one, get one free.’

Rostropovich frowned. ‘You’d better make sure this all works out,’ he said.

Cruz didn’t reply. He just turned his back on the Russian to indicate that the interview was over. He went back to looking in the mirror, pleased to see that the doorway was empty again. He stared into his own dark eyes. Were his doubts visible on his face? Would Rostropovich have known that Cruz had a nagging worry that even Agent 21 would find the difficulties involved in reaching this obscure corner of the earth insurmountable?

He shook his head and turned his back on the mirror. Harry Gold would find a way. He always did. In twenty-four hours’ time, midnight on his favourite festival of
el Día de Reyes
, they would be face to face. Agent 21 would be on Russian soil – or rather, Russian ice – and he would be under Cruz’s control.

Cruz’s father would be avenged.

And Harry Gold would be wishing that his life would come to an end very, very soon.

It was almost dawn when Zak, Ricky and Tasha returned to the shack. The burning panic in Zak’s gut had intensified. It was January the sixth already – Epiphany, the day of Cruz’s deadline – but they were still hundreds of miles from their destination.

They had taken a roundabout route through the forest, looping back on themselves frequently to check they weren’t being followed. And after his fright with the wolves, Ricky had moved a little slower than on the way out. Zak noticed that he kept very close to Snow.

The family were still awake. They all looked very relieved as Tasha and Snow entered. Malcolm looked even more relieved to see Zak and Ricky.

‘What happened?’ Travis asked immediately. ‘Did you do it? Did you rip ’em off?’

Ricky held up the red plastic bag. His face looked drawn and tired. Hardly surprising, Zak thought, after the evening he’d had.

They carefully counted out the money. There was a massive amount – just shy of twenty thousand dollars in crumpled, used notes. The old man’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

‘A deal’s a deal,’ he said. ‘A thousand bucks to take you to Moriarty. Reckon he’ll want another couple of thousand, if he agrees to the flight. Looks like you made yourself a good profit, kid.’

Zak felt a twinge of respect for the old guy. He was clearly a man of his word. He looked at Tasha and her brothers. He noticed again how lean they were. As hungry-looking as the wolves Snow had chased away. He counted out the two thousand dollars he needed, then pushed the rest of the money across the table. ‘Tasha says you all want to move back to the city,’ he said quietly. ‘With this money, you can do it.’

Silence in the room. The rest of the family looked at the father. Zak couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a tear in the watery eyes of that grizzled old face. He turned to Tyler and Travis. ‘How long to get to Moriarty?’ he asked. His voice was thick and gruff.

‘Half a day,’ Tyler said. He was looking at Zak with a new expression. All the hostility had vanished from his voice. He walked up to Zak and shook him by the hand. ‘We’ll be happy to lead you there,’ he said.

Zak looked at his watch. It was almost 5 a.m. They had nineteen hours until Cruz’s deadline. ‘We need to leave now,’ he said.

Tyler nodded. Then he looked over at Malcolm. ‘Ain’t gonna lie to you,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure that one’s fit enough to make the journey. We could . . . we could maybe look after him for a bit . . .’ He looked around at his family to see if they agreed with the suggestion. Everyone nodded their agreement.

Zak walked over to where Malcolm was sitting. ‘What do you reckon, buddy?’ he said. ‘Do you want to stay here, or come with us?’

Malcolm blinked heavily. ‘I’m coming with you,’ he said.

Zak hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He turned to the others. ‘Let’s get ready,’ he said. ‘We leave immediately.’

Their farewells were short. The mother and father – Zak realized he still didn’t even know their names – stood alongside Tasha and Snow outside the hut. They shook hands. Zak had the impression that the old man gripped his hand a little harder than he needed to. He was clearly grateful for what Zak had done.

‘Will you ever come back?’ Tasha asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Zak told her honestly. The truth was, he hadn’t thought past his RV with Cruz Martinez. It was like a brick wall in his mind. He didn’t know what was beyond it. Maybe nothing.

Tyler and Travis took the lead. They wore bearskin clothes and boots. It made them look like something out of another century. Zak, Ricky and Malcolm followed in their more modern snow gear. It felt safer moving in the daytime. Even though their visibility was less than ten metres, the conditions felt less harsh than when they had been stumbling blindly through the night. Tyler and Travis seemed to have an unerring sense of direction, and led them confidently across the frozen landscape.