That Time in Moscow Read online

  “Ruki vverkh!”

  Wolfgang didn’t know what that meant but concluded that it was a safe bet to stick his hands up, so he did. The guard kept him at gunpoint while the second soldier made a phone call.

  “Tell him it’s urgent, if that helps,” Wolfgang said. “And tell him I’m sorry about last night. I never go home with somebody on the second date, but I’ve reconsidered.”

  The muzzle of the rifle twitched. Wolfgang took his cue and shut up. The second man slammed down the phone and burst out of the shack, shouting at his companion and brandishing his rifle.

  “Opuskat'sya!” Both men shouted, taking several steps forward and jabbing with the rifles.

  “So you do know him!” Wolfgang laughed, dropping to his knees and placing both hands behind his head. “I thought you might. By the way . . . he’s okay, right? No pneumonia or anything?”

  Another chorus of shouts, then his hands were wrapped behind his back and cuffed in place. Five minutes later, he was blindfolded and being dragged through a side door into the massive building, one gun at his back and another jabbed into his side. Wolfgang stumbled along, trying to keep up with the bigger men as lights faded in and out through the blindfold and other footsteps rang around him.

  Still got my shoes. Still got my shirt. Still got Lyle.

  Wolfgang felt an elevator dropping beneath him, then he was yanked down a hallway that sounded like concrete beneath his shoes. A moment later, he was shoved into a sitting position and uncuffed. Powerful hands jerked his arms in front of him, then new cuffs snapped into place, and the blindfold was removed.

  Wolfgang blinked in bright light, but he didn’t really need to see. He could feel the cold steel of an interrogation table beneath his palms and the rigid discomfort of a chair made of similar construction beneath his butt.

  Outstanding. Glad we skipped the foreplay.

  One guard stomped through the door and slammed it shut while the second retreated to a corner and kept his rifle trained on Wolfgang.

  Wolfgang leaned down until he could reach his face with his hands, then rubbed his eyes. “Listen, Yuri. Ivan’s not gonna keep me waiting, is he? I’m on a tight schedule.” The guard said nothing, and Wolfgang smiled. “You guys love the stone-faced look, don’t you? Is that something they teach you in Russian elementary school? ‘Yuri! Stand here and look like statue!’” Wolfgang mimed his best stone-faced expression while adopting a Russian accent. The guard still said nothing, but the hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips.

  He speaks some English.

  Wolfgang prepared another probing jab, but before he could speak, the door burst open, and SVR Officer Ivan Sidorov barreled in like a charging rhinoceros. The door clapped shut as Ivan stood just behind the angled lights, glowering down at Wolfgang, then her jerked his head at the door and muttered something in Russian.

  The guard nodded, then disappeared through the door. A second later, the bolt slid shut.

  Hmm. I don’t like that.

  Ivan stood in the shadows a moment, still invisible thanks to the blast of light that glared down at Wolfgang. Then he placed both meaty hands on the table and slid in front of the light so his head blocked it, now haloed like a demented angel. Wolfgang faced him, unblinking. The Russian’s hair was disheveled, and there was two days of stubble on his cheeks. His eyes were as cold and heartless as Wolfgang had ever seen them, glowering down with enough menace to fry an egg. So close that Wolfgang could smell the sour odor of Russian tea on Ivan’s breath.

  Wolfgang pictured the big man charging at him the night before. He saw him hurtling over the wall, frantically grabbing at thin air before crashing into the icy depths below. Even here, handcuffed to a table and probably about to be shot, he couldn’t help feeling a little sorry about that.

  “Glad you’re okay, Ivan,” Wolfgang said. “You really shouldn’t go swimming this time of year.”

  Ivan’s right hand shot out like a striking snake, and he slammed the table between Wolfgang’s hands. The sound was as loud and sudden as a gunshot, reverberating off the walls and filling the room.

  Wolfgang didn’t move. He didn’t so much as blink. He just stared at the Russian as his stomach flipped like a carnival ride.

  Dear God, what was I thinking?

  Ivan kept his hand only millimeters from Wolfgang’s chest and continued to glower. Seconds ticked by, then a soft smile tugged at the corners of Ivan’s mouth. After kicking back a second chair and settling into it, he reached into his pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit a smoke and took a long drag, never taking his gaze off Wolfgang, then he blew smoke toward the ceiling and grunted. “You know something, Amerikos? I was wrong about you. You do have stones.”

  Wolfgang returned the smirk and turned both palms up. “How’s your head, Ivan?”

  Ivan sucked down the cigarette and grimaced. “Russian heads are made of iron, Amerikos. But a toilet seat . . . it hurt like a bitch.”

  “You treat those bruises with some vodka?”

  “With vodka and good Russian women.” Ivan held out the cigarette. “Smoke?”

  Wolfgang nodded. “Da.”

  Ivan placed the smoke between Wolfgang’s lips. Wolfgang took a slow drag, then coughed.

  Ivan laughed, returning the cigarette to his own lips. “No such cigarettes in America, eh?”

  Wolfgang shook his head, his eyes watering.

  Ivan extinguished the smoke against the tabletop. “You should not have come, Amerikos. Now I must make example out of you.”

  “I understand,” Wolfgang said. “Russian justice, da?”

  “Da. Russian justice.”

  Wolfgang’s heart thumped, but he resisted the urge to swallow.

  Now or never.

  “Whenever you catch those terrorists, I guess they’ll also experience some Russian justice.”

  Ivan didn’t move, but his left eyelid twitched.

  Score.

  “They gave you the slip in Paris, didn’t they?” Wolfgang continued. “Me, too. But now you’re on their trail again. Who would’ve thought hunting international terrorists would have led you right back to Moscow?”

  Ivan ran his tongue across his lips, then spoke softly. “You’re one of them. I know you are.”

  “Wrong. I’m hunting them, just like you.”

  Ivan snickered. “You expect me to believe this?”

  “How else do you explain us crossing paths so many times?”

  “Easy. You’re one of them.”

  “What if I could prove I wasn’t?”

  “How would you do that?”

  “With documents. The woman you arrested last night? She’s CIA. She had in her possession certain files pertaining to an imminent terrorist attack. An attack involving chemical weapons.”

  Ivan stiffened.

  Pay dirt.

  “You work for CIA?”

  “No.”

  “I think you do.”

  “I don’t. I work for, let’s call it, a third party. I came to Moscow to disrupt an illegal Russian chemical weapons program. Only, after I got here, I realized the program isn’t Russian.” Wolfgang leaned forward now, only inches from Ivan. “You have a highly organized group of anarchy terrorists operating dangerously close to the heart of your government, and you know it. You just don’t know who they are. That’s something I can help with.”

  Ivan held his gaze. “If what you say is true, you would contact American CIA. They would pay you.”

  “Sure they would. And then they would leverage those documents against fragile American-Russian relations. They might use it as an excuse to develop their own chemical weapons program. Who could blame them? It’s the right thing to do, defensively.”

  “You do not love your country?”

  “Oh, I do. More than any place on Earth, which is why I would love to see these terrorists succumb to Russian justice.”

  Ivan smirked. “I don’t know who you are, Amerikos. I don’t know if yo
u work for CIA or these imaginary terrorists, but—”

  “They’re not imaginary. They’re very real, and you know it.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because you’re still here, talking to me.”

  Ivan folded his arms, then finally stood up. “I almost believe you, Amerikos, but truth is proven in Russia. We shall see what stories you tell when you have no fingernails.”

  Ivan rapped on the door, then shouted an order in Russian. Boots thumped on the concrete, and Wolfgang stood up, exposing the button camera in his shirt to his cuffed hands. He held up both thumbs, then looked toward the ceiling.

  Nothing happened.

  The door opened, and two guards appeared. Ivan snapped an order and gestured toward Wolfgang. They both turned to the table, and Wolfgang held up his thumbs again, glancing down to make sure the camera caught the gesture.

  Nothing happened.

  The two guards unlocked his cuffs, then pressed him against the wall before re-cuffing his hands behind his back. Ivan led the way out of the interrogation room, then down a hallway to an elevator. He pressed the down arrow as Wolfgang’s head throbbed.

  Come on, Lyle. Where are you?

  “Hey, Ivan,” Wolfgang said. “Mind if I pee?”

  Ivan chuckled. “Where we go, there is drain in floor. You can pee while you sit.”

  A drain in the floor. That’s not good.

  The elevator dinged, then the door rolled open. Wolfgang swallowed again, then glanced over his shoulder. There were no sounds and nobody in sight, but he could see alarm systems and cameras in the ceiling.

  Now, Lyle. Now!

  The guards stepped forward, shoving Wolfgang along with them. Wolfgang dipped his toe and tripped, hitting his knees with a grunt and stalling the guards just short of the elevator. Both men muttered curses and grabbed him by the elbows, hauling him toward the open elevator.

  And then it happened.

  A red light flashed from overhead, and a screaming alarm ripped down the hallway. Wolfgang blinked, disoriented by the noise as if it were from a flash-bang grenade. He stumbled again, and the guards let him drop as everyone looked to the ceiling. Again the alarms screamed, this time followed by a computerized voice calling commands in Russian.

  “Pozhar!” Ivan shouted. He rushed past the guards and stuck his head around the corner of the hallway.

  Wolfgang heard the beat of more boots on the ground, and he grinned.

  Nice job, Lyle.

  Ivan turned on his heel and shouted something at the guards. They grabbed Wolfgang by the elbows, then hauled him down an adjoining hallway and to a flight of stairs. Wolfgang walked willingly, keeping his camera lens exposed as he moved. The alarm continued to blare overhead, followed by computerized commands that now cycled through Russian, German, Eastern European languages, and then English.

  “Fire, fire. Evacuate the building.”

  Wolfgang grinned as the guards unlocked a metal door and dragged him into some kind of detention facility with steel doors on either side. They rolled one door open and slung Wolfgang inside, then the door crashed shut, and the guards disappeared.

  Wolfgang lay on the floor, his ribs and elbow throbbing from the crash landing. He coughed and blinked, then sat up and shook his head. The alarm was distant now but still way too loud.

  A dry voice croaked from the corner of the room. “Wolfgang?”

  The man lying on a cot was half-covered by a thin blanket, and his hands were cuffed to the bed.

  “Edric!” Wolfgang fought his way to his feet, impeded by his hands still cuffed behind his back, and stumbled to the bed.

  Edric lay on his side, hunched on one elbow. His face was a mottled mess of bruises, and he wheezed with each breath. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Wolfgang knelt beside the bed and gave Edric a reassuring smile. “Lie back, Edric. We’re getting you out of here.”

  9

  “Did you get the drive?” Edric asked.

  Wolfgang shuffled toward the door, peering down the hall through reinforced glass. It was empty, for the moment, but the siren continued to blare, and red lights flashed.

  He retreated into the cell and sat down, bracing his back against the wall before kicking off his shoes.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Edric asked, his voice cracked with exhaustion.

  “Stay quiet, Edric. The cell is bugged.”

  Edric lay back, casting an involuntary look at the ceiling.

  Wolfgang finished with his shoes, then wiggled his wrists until they passed beneath his butt and were trapped under his thighs. He winced at the strain on his muscles but slowly wiggled his cuffed hands forward, down his thighs, and toward his knees. Finally, he bent forward far enough to loop the cuffs past his feet, and then sat back with a relieved grunt.

  “Come here,” Edric hissed.

  Wolfgang looked to the window again, then crawled next to Edric’s bed.

  “Did you get the drive?” Edric whispered.

  “Yeah, Lyle has it. Do you know what’s on it?”

  “Sparrow said there were plans for a chemical attack, and details about a terrorist network. She said something about a football stadium.”

  “Soldier Field. The plans are for a chemical attack during a ball game.”

  “Shit.” Edric closed his eyes and ran a dry tongue over his lips.

  “Where is she?” Wolfgang asked.

  “Sparrow? I’m not sure. Maybe in one of the other cells.”

  Wolfgang stared at the wall as he puzzled through the pieces at hand. Something was missing. Something still didn’t fit. If the terrorists were now operating inside Moscow and Ivan was hunting them, how did Sparrow obtain the files? Who leaked them? “Where did Sparrow get the files?”

  “Koslov. Sparrow said he stole them.”

  “Where’s Koslov now?”

  “Hiding in the city. The terrorists are looking for him. Sparrow wouldn’t disclose the location until we transmitted the drive contents to the CIA.”

  “She couldn’t do that herself?”

  “Apparently, she was communicating to the CIA via another agent—a handler, if you will. Two days ago, the handler disappeared.”

  Wolfgang leaned against the wall. “The CIA pulled him. Another effort to maintain plausible deniability, I’m sure. But how did she contact us last night?”

  “The CIA left her with a phone number to call if she had an emergency. It rang to a dead-end answering machine—not something she could transmit the files with. They left her high and dry, honestly.”

  Wolfgang assimilated the news and wondered if it changed anything. He decided it didn’t and turned back to Edric. “Can you walk?”

  Edric nodded.

  “Good. The team is on their way. We’ve got to get Koslov.”

  “Why? We need to extract immediately.”

  “No. This man risked everything to expose what he thought was state-sponsored illegal weaponry. When he discovered he was actually being used by a terrorist network, he risked his life to thwart them. We came here to get him out, and that’s what we’ve got to do. Whatever it takes.”

  Edric sighed. “Damn you, Wolfgang. You’re too good a man for this job.”

  Wolfgang grinned. “Tell Megan, won’t you?” He walked to the door, peering out through the window again. From somewhere in the distance, Wolfgang heard the shouts of guards rushing down distant hallways. The voices grew louder, joined by the perpetual whine of the fire alarm.

  “Get up!” Wolfgang said, motioning to Edric. “They’re coming!”

  Edric hauled himself into a sitting position and swung his feet off the bed, his hand still cuffed to the cot. In the pool of light spilling through the narrow window, his face looked even worse than before. A spiderweb of bruises ran across his cheeks, and his nose was stuffed with tissue paper.

  Wolfgang winced. “Ivan really worked on you, didn’t he?”

  Edric grunted, and then something flashed on the oth
er side of the window.

  “Stand back!” Wolfgang ducked to the side, then the door shook violently.

  A moment later, it crashed open, and a big man in full firefighter gear with a giant oxygen tank on his back stepped inside. He took off his helmet and flashed Edric a big grin. “’Sup, boss?”

  Megan piled in behind Kevin, also dressed in firefighter gear. Hers was designed for a woman but still much too big for her, gathering around her ankles and sliding around on her shoulders like a sleeping bag.

  She flipped her visor up and motioned to Wolfgang. “Hands!”

  Wolfgang held out his hands, and Megan produced a small set of bolt cutters from her pocket. She cut the chain between his wrists, then hurried to free Edric. “Kevin, get the smoke ready!” Megan snapped.

  Kevin hurried out of the cell, sliding the tank off his back and setting it down in one corner. Wolfgang and Megan helped Edric up and guided him out of the cell to where Kevin’s duffle bag waited.

  “Dress-up time!” Megan said. She unzipped the bag and dumped out two more firefighter suits, complete with boots and helmets.

  Wolfgang and Edric changed as shouts erupted down the hallway.

  “That would be the real firefighters,” Kevin said. “Let’s go!”

  Wolfgang pulled on a fireproof jacket. “Wait! We have to find Sparrow. Check the other cells.”

  Megan grabbed his sleeve and jerked him toward the door. “We don’t have time. Kevin, start the smoke!”

  Wolfgang jerked his arm free. “I don’t have time to explain—we need Sparrow.”

  He broke into a run down the short hallway, glancing into one detention cell after another. They were all empty, with stripped mattresses on metal cots. No prisoners. No sign of Sparrow.

  “Wolfgang!” Megan shouted. “We have to go!”

  The stomps in the hallway pounded louder now. Kevin hesitated over the bottle, one hand near the nozzle as he glanced between Wolfgang and Megan. Wolfgang continued to run, checking the last five cells one at a time and grinding to a halt at the fourth one.

  “Here! She’s here! Kevin, come on!”

  Wolfgang wrestled with the lock. It was electronic, and the door wouldn’t budge. Kevin appeared next to him a moment later, the bottle in hand. With one powerful heave, he slammed the base of the bottle downward, obliterating the electronic lock. The door clicked, and Wolfgang shoved it open, concluding that the cell was better designed to keep people in than out.