Ghosts of War (24 page)

M
ikhail exited the cab, moving slowly to the rear for his luggage, giving him time to survey the entrance to the Bratislava train station. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, the harsh fluorescent light providing plenty of illumination in the night. People coming and going, dragging luggage or buying snacks and coffee at an outdoor kiosk. Nobody paying him any mind. He opened the trunk and handed out carry-on rollers to his new security, telling them to go purchase tickets to Warsaw. He watched them drag the roll-aboards inside, paid the cab, then followed.

The train station was surprisingly compact, given that it was the only way to catch a train out of the capital of Slovakia. One entrance lobby with a big digital board dictating the next departures, and a single stairwell leading down to the platforms, with hallways left and right to a small snack shop or offices for the various train lines.

He looked at the board, saw the time for his train—and his decoy—then met the two security men at the ticket counter. “Get first class?”

“No. All they had left were two sleepers in coach.”

Mikhail held up the first-class ticket he'd purchased earlier, shook his head, and said, “Too bad. Get ready to sleep with your suitcase. Let's go to the platform.”

Pavel said, “The train doesn't leave for an hour. Let's go get chow.”

Mikhail said, “No. There's a reason I want to wait on the platform. I want people to see us.”

Pavel looked confused, but picked up his suitcase. They went down
the stairs, walking under the platforms until they reached the fifth one. Mikhail started going up and Pavel said, “Wrong one, boss. Warsaw is platform six.”

“I know. This one is going to Austria in thirty minutes. We'll hang out here until it leaves, then pop over to the Warsaw train.”

“Why?”

“Just a precaution. Something that's allowed me to live as long as I have.”

Mikhail saw Pavel grimace at his partner, and didn't fault him. He had no knowledge of tradecraft, no skill at evading anyone. His whole worldview was predicated by a closed fist—something he was well versed in, and something Mikhail would leverage if he had to.

He stopped at a bench, placed his roll-aboard against it, and sat down, waiting, as he had plenty of times in the past. Most tradecraft involved nothing more than waiting. He thought about the upcoming meeting, tossing around how he would employ his two security men.

According to Simon, both of them had served in the Russian FSB, the inheritors of the defunct KGB, but neither showed any skill at tradecraft. Although they'd shown plenty of skill at pure violence.

Earlier, when Mikhail needed to confirm that the diamond merchant had not told the authorities anything, the two security men had proven up to the task, surgically taking apart the poor man piece by piece and showing no qualms about it at all. They were efficient and unemotional. The best combination. But they held little concern for what could happen to them if someone were planning against them, convinced their strength in the moment would prevent any catastrophe. Mikhail knew better.

The team that had hit the armored car was still out there. Still tracking. And he understood their skills, having once been a member of an organization that did the exact same thing.

The death of the diamond merchant bothered him not at all. It had been grisly, but necessary. Just like the deaths he'd caused in the name
of a state. Necessary. If he had to take such actions in the future, he would.

But it would be better to slip the net with tradecraft rather than violence.

—

Knuckles said, “So you think she's an issue?”

“I don't know,” I answered. “This guy Mikhail is bringing out bad things, and she's dealing with it, but she's most definitely not on her A game.”

“What, like PTSD?”

I hesitated, picking my words carefully. PTSD had a clinical definition that was pretty broad, but meant something specific to men who'd seen combat. “Yeah, I think so, but it's more along the lines of a battered wife or something like that. It's combat related, but not because of what she's seen or done. It's what was done to her, against her will.”

Knuckles nodded and said, “Your call. I trust your judgment. You think she can hack this, I'm with you. Might be the best thing for her. Get her over the hump.”

“I appreciate it. I just wanted to make you aware. I think she's good for specific tasks, but she can't be involved in any takedown of Mikhail.”

“You know that transcript also talked about the Torah. You think they're really in this to help us?”

Before I could respond, we saw a cab pull up and we sagged in our seats like a couple of kids hiding from the cops. The passenger door opened, and I said, “That's him.”

Knuckles relayed via cell to the hotel, putting it on speaker and saying, “Target acquired.”

Aaron came back. “Good to go. We have a couple of hours before we penetrate. Let us know where he's headed and we'll meet you there.”

I said, “Don't get compromised in there. Find what you can, and get out.”

Jennifer came on. “Pike, we got it. You already approved the plan.”

Which was true, but it didn't mean I wasn't worried. I glanced out the window, seeing the three men disappear inside. I said, “Okay, we're on the move. Call you in a second.”

We exited and walked up to the entrance like we were catching a train. I'd worried about following Simon to a different country using automobiles, but in this case we knew Mikhail was using the rail system. Boarding the same one wouldn't look odd. We could track him for the duration as simple passengers, and when he got off, so would we.

Once inside, I paused, glancing at the big board as if I was looking for a train, but really giving Knuckles a chance to clear the area with his eyes. He said, “We're good. They're gone. What's leaving next?”

“Train to Vienna. That's where Simon went. Makes sense.”

“Come on. Let's check.”

We took a right from the board and went into the little snack shop, finding a table near the window. I went to the counter to get a couple of Cokes, letting Knuckles find a seat. By the time I'd returned, he'd located our targets.

He stood and said, “Track five. The train to Vienna. We should get our tickets. It leaves in a few minutes.”

It took less than two minutes to book seats, the ticket counter deserted. We went underground, walked down the tunnel, then exited on platform five. Going up the stairs I said, “If they're still standing, just board. Don't pay them any attention.”

Just as we reached the top, he said, “Do I look like an amateur?”

We entered the train, studiously ignoring the party of three. I moved to the back, taking a seat where I could see them on the platform. We waited, and the time ticked down. One minute before we were to leave, they stood up, but didn't board.

What the hell?

Our train lurched forward, the schedule for departure met, and I saw them go back down the stairs, dragging their luggage with them. They popped out next to a train on platform six, and I leapt up, slapping my hands to the window, knowing immediately what Mikhail had done. As we pulled away, gathering speed, I strained to see the station on the digital display next to the train they were boarding.

Warszawa Centralna, leaving at eleven
P.M.
, thirty minutes from now.

W
e slowly pulled away, and I knew I'd just fallen for the easiest trick in the book, making me feel like a fool. Nothing I could do about it now. Leaping out onto the tracks would only highlight our stupidity. Might as well hold up a neon sign reading
OKAY, YOU GOT US
as we jumped.

Typical Knuckles, he watched the platforms recede in the distance and said, “Aren't we supposed to be on that train?”

I said, “Did you see the station?”

“Yeah, Warzawa Central, or something like that.”

“Call the Taskforce. Get the intel shop working. Figure out where that is, and figure out how long it'll take to get there.”

I called Aaron, really not wanting to admit what had happened. He answered on the second ring. I said, “Mikhail pulled a duck on us. We're on a train to Vienna, but he's boarding one that leaves in about twenty-five minutes to a place called Warszawa Centralna.”

“That's the main train station in Warsaw, Poland. I don't have enough time to get to the station before he rolls.”

Knuckles said, “They're saying Warsaw.”

I put my hand over the mouthpiece and said, “Reroute the Rock Star bird. Get them moving to Warsaw instead of here.” I returned to the phone. “Okay, change of plans. No more B and E. Meet us at the first place this train stops. I don't know where that is, but you can figure it out. Bring everyone with you. We'll haul ass on the roads and meet Mikhail at the far end.”

“What if he doesn't get off on the far end?”

“What do you mean? That's the train he's on.”

“He used tradecraft on you just to board. What makes you think he won't with his destination?”

Shit
. He was right.

He said, “Hang on.”

Five seconds later he said, “I found the train on the net. The first stop is in Kuty, about forty-five minutes away. I can get there before it arrives.”

“And do what?”

“Insert Jennifer and Shoshana. Then I can run back to you, pick you up, and leapfrog again. We can then just track the train by vehicle, using them as early warning if he leaves it.”

I liked the plan with the exception of one thing. I said, “No Shoshana.”

He said, “Pike, I wouldn't advise a singleton on this. Two heads are better than one, and Shoshana is smart. Inserting Jennifer alone is placing her in danger.”

“Putting Shoshana on that train is
asking
for danger. You go with Jennifer.”

“Yes, that would be best, but we're on a very tight timeline. I know the highways. I know where your train is stopping and how to get there right now. I know where Kuty is and what roads to take. When I was on Samson, I worked this area enough that it's like the back of my hand. Before I got Shoshana, she spent most of her time in the occupied territories and the Middle East. Over there, I rely on her for navigation. Here, she relies on me. If Shoshana drives, she's going to be using a GPS, which may not get her there in time.”

“Mikhail knows her on sight.”

“Look, that's a problem either way. Quite possibly he knows Jennifer as well, but he's in a sleeper car, I promise. He only travels first class. I was going to place them in the back, in the cattle section. All they need to do is keep eyes on who exits the train at the various
stops. Most everyone will be taking the train
to
Warsaw, so the extra stops will be people boarding, not exiting. If he leaves, we'll know it just by watching the platform. Meanwhile, you and I will be shadowing the train. When he exits, we pick up the follow.”

“So my choices are to put her on the train for a long-look or use her in a vehicle for a short tether? Is that what you're saying?”

“Yes, except you three will be screaming at a GPS to give you directions.”

“What if she goes nuts?”

“She won't. She won't get close enough to do that.”

I said, “Is she standing there?”

“Yes.”

“Put her on.”

The phone fumbled and I heard “Yes, Nephilim?”

“You ready for this?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Listen closely: no Pumpkin King unless I ask. You understand? No running into the funnel of fire if you see Mikhail.”

She laughed, putting me at ease. She said, “I'll have Koko with me. Don't worry, she won't let me go berserk.”

“Then you guys get moving. You've got a train to catch.”

T
he small train station—more what I'd call a train stop—was deserted at this time of night, so when I saw headlights flash, I stood up. Sure enough, I saw Aaron behind the wheel of a minivan. We'd only been on the train for twenty minutes before we got off, just on the other side of the Danube, now in Austria.

I said, “That's what we're going to speed up and down the roads in?”

He smiled and said, “Train's only doing about a hundred kilometers an hour, and it's stopping a lot. We can do at least one-fifty in this, and it'll blend in better on the open road. It looks like a service van. Besides, I'm carrying everyone's luggage.”

I took the passenger seat and Knuckles piled into the back. Aaron wheeled out, riding on surface streets, jigging left, then right, until he hit a four-lane freeway running parallel to the tracks.

I said, “That's it? You're going to run a freeway right next to the tracks? You really think we couldn't figure that out?”

He laughed and said, “It'll separate after Kuty. We'll have to take a different freeway to reach Otrokovice in the Czech Republic. That's the train's next major stop.”

Knuckles said, “How'd the insertion go?”

“Fine, as far as I can tell. I didn't wait around. The train is spending twenty minutes there. Jennifer called after she boarded, saying they had seats that provided visibility outside the train, and the car was pretty much empty. Lights are off to let people sleep. They're okay. She said she'd call when they left.”

I nodded and said, “How long to get there?”

“At speed, about thirty minutes to Kuty, then another hour to Otrokovice. Hour and forty-five minutes, max.”

He had the train schedule up on his tablet, and after looking at it, I said, “That's going to be close.”

“Yeah, I know, but the train's making two stops in between Kuty and there. I had to take a risk that he wouldn't get off at them because they're practically nothing more than a concrete slab. Nothing at either stop, and both are still in Slovakia. He's at least crossing the border, or why else take a train?”

I tended to agree with him, but it was still going to be close.

My phone rang, Jennifer on the other end. “Pike, we just left the station. No issues so far. He didn't get off here. I'll call at each stop one way or the other.”

I said, “Sounds good. How's Carrie doing?”

“Fine. She's bugging me with questions, as usual.”

“Don't give out any secrets.”

She laughed and said, “I won't,” then hung up.

We drove in silence for forty minutes, past Kuty, then past another small station. I said, “Was that the one the train was supposed to stop at?”

Aaron said, “Too dark to tell. Must not have been. They didn't call.”

I dialed Jennifer's number. It rang for an eternity, then someone answered. I heard nothing but breathing. I said, “Jennifer?” and the phone went dead.

I dialed Shoshana's number, with it going to voice mail.

Aaron saw my face, and understood that something terrible had happened. I tamped down the human urge to start freaking out, saying to Knuckles, “Keep trying Jennifer.”

He heard my voice, unnaturally calm, and realized we had a situation. To Aaron, I asked, “Did they take in earbuds?”

“Yeah, but we don't have the range to use them.”

“Catch the train before we have to split off the tracks. Get me near that fucker.”

—

Mikhail cracked the window shade of his sleeping car, seeing the train slide into Kuty. He shut it again, then heard a knock on his door. He opened it, seeing Pavel outside. Speaking Russian, Pavel said, “Hey, boss, we never got any dinner. I sent Adam into the station for a sandwich. You want anything?”

“What do they have?”

Pavel dialed his phone, spoke for a moment, then said, “A bunch of different sandwiches and rolls. He's sending a picture. You can pick what you want from that.”

The phone dinged, showing a slanted photo of the display case, wraps, subs, and other sandwiches within. Mikhail zoomed in to pick a meal, then froze.

Pavel said, “What's wrong?”

Mikhail manipulated the screen, dragging it left and zooming in even farther. He held the phone up to Pavel and said, “What do you see?”

Pavel stared, confused, valiantly trying to see what the fuss was about. He said, “You want the salami?”

Mikhail snarled, “You see the woman in the background? The one at the ticket counter?”

“Yes . . . So?”

“She's a fucking Israeli assassin. She's here to kill you. I don't know how they found us, but the Israeli team is here.”

Pavel looked at Mikhail as if he were losing it. “Hey . . . she's just buying a ticket. Are you sure?”

Mikhail grabbed his ear and twisted, forcing his face into the
phone. “You fucking neophyte, she is a
killer
. I know because I worked with her. I
know
because I trained her.”

He let go and said, “Adam stays. Watch what they do. If he has to miss us leaving, he does so. He stays. If they board, we deal with it.”

Pavel rubbed his ear, shocked at the ferocity. He said, “Okay, okay.”