Sentinel (19 page)

His body was in agony as a result of the shards of glass sticking in him, though the pain felt as if it belonged to someone else. Nothing seemed real except the noise and light that were gripping him with unrelenting ferocity.

One second, one minute, or one hour later—he had no way of knowing—a hand gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet. He staggered; white light remained all around him, but within it he saw two hazy dark silhouettes of men. They seemed to be talking, though their voices sounded distant and nonsensical. He spun around and vomited into the white light. The voices became louder, sounded urgent, then distinct.

“Will! Will!”

He shook his head, opened and shut his eyes, and tried to think. He breathed deeply, attempting to muster all of his remaining strength to focus his mind and body and make the white light and noise go away.

“Will!”

He felt another arm grab him, felt his body being marched over the ground while being held in the viselike grips on either side of him, and he heard one of the voices again. “Keep him moving until his balance returns.”

The white light began to fade. The noise began to ebb. He started seeing dots and shapes; they grew larger until he realized they were trees. He sucked in a lungful of air; the act caused him to gag and vomit again. But this time he saw his vomit land on a surface that was not light, but snow. He frowned, staring down at his feet for a while.

“Will?”

He blinked, stayed still for a moment longer, breathed slowly, then lifted his body until he was upright. One of the hands holding him released its grip. Will nodded. The other hand let go of him. He heard boots crunch over snow. He looked around. Roger and Laith were in front of him.

“Can you see and hear us?”

Will nodded again. He took a step forward. One of his knees buckled and he nearly fell to the ground, but he managed to put another foot forward quickly and stay on his feet. Looking at his legs, he saw large pieces of glass sticking out of them. He ignored them and looked at the CIA men. “The Mercedes?”

“Gone. It was half a mile down the road before we even got back to the lodge. I’d say Razin’s at least five miles away now, probably more. Even if we knew where he was going, we wouldn’t have a chance in hell of catching up with him.”

“Barkov?”

“Dead. He’s got a bullet between his eyes.” Laith shook his head. “No one else is in the lodge.”

Will looked up at the sky. Large snowflakes fell over his face. He felt utter frustration and despair. “I had him in my sights. I could easily have killed him.” He returned his gaze to his colleagues. “
Why’s
he taken Sentinel alive?”

Roger shrugged. “To get the location of the remaining agents?”

“I think he already knows their location.” Will kicked at the snow. “But if not, there would have been easier ways to find out where they live, rather than risk his life by trying to capture Sentinel alive.”

Laith asked, “Where are the agents?”

“Spread out across Russia.” Will became still as a thought came to him. “
That’s
his problem. Every murder is taking too long.” He nodded. “Perhaps it’s not information he wants. Maybe he intends to
use
Sentinel.”

Roger agreed. “Use him to summon his agents to one location.”

Will pulled out shards of glass from his jacket. “Yes, he’ll torture Sentinel until the man’s mind is broken.”

“He resisted torture for years when he was in prison. Razin will know that.”

“That was a long time ago. Methods to extract information have become more advanced.” Will thought about the drugs that had been put in him during the Program exercise in the States. “Still, he should be able to hold out for a few days.” He shook his head. The prospect of Sentinel’s torture repulsed him. It should never have come to this. He should have refused to let Sentinel go ahead with the Barkov meeting. Fixing his gaze on the CIA officers, he said, “We’ve got two priorities now: stopping Razin, and rescuing Sentinel. I’ve already set in motion a strategy to get Razin away from the bombs, but I’ll need you to help me track down Sentinel’s location.”

Laith asked, “How are we going to do that?”

“We have cash, passports, spare clothes to make us look normal, a vehicle, and weapons.” Will nodded. “We’ll use those things to try to get him back.”

“You also need to notify the Agency so that we can get their help. They should give us every available resource they have.”

Will smiled, though now he felt nothing but anger and a total focus. “For the time being, we can’t talk to the Agency.”

Laith looked incredulous. “You’ve got to tell Patrick and Alistair that Sentinel’s been captured!”

Will shook his head. “I’m not going to do that.”

“God damn it, Will. You’re making the wrong decision.”

Will breathed in deeply as he looked across the Ural Mountains. “I can’t talk to Alistair or Patrick because they would never authorize what I’m going to do next.”

Chapter Twenty-six

I
t was midday. Will and his CIA colleagues were still in the vicinity of the lodge. White clouds lay low in the sky; snow fell fast on the ground. The black smoke from the trees was gone.

Will and Laith were on the other side of the lake. Roger was a mile away by the lodge, observing the mountain road in case any concerned civilians had seen the smoke and were coming to offer their help or armed police were coming to investigate the sounds of gunfire. But everywhere around them was silent, peaceful.

Will looked at the mountains, at the tranquil lake, and at the snow that seemed to be cleansing the beautiful grounds around them. An eagle flew from one of the mountaintops and drifted. Will watched its graceful movements. He looked at Ross’s dead body. The poor man had been sliced open from the lower abdomen to the base of his chest plate. His intestines, liver, and other entrails had spilled out.

Laith glanced at the distant lodge, across the lake. “We haven’t got time to clear up all this mess.”

Will nodded. “I’m going to leave cash in the lodge for the asset. But we can’t expect the owner to dispose of the bodies.” Will kept his gaze on Ross. The Scot’s eyes were wide in an expression of absolute terror and pain.

“Well, we’ve got a problem. There’s no boat to take them out onto the lake, and swimming them out there would be suicidal.” Laith stamped a foot on the frozen ground. “Plus, no chance of digging graves.”

The eagle emitted a high-pitched scream. It moved so gracefully, yet seemed so distant. But Will knew it could quickly swoop on its prey and rip it apart with a brutal and immediate savagery. “I’ll bring Barkov’s body out here. Let the animals have them. There’s nothing else we can do.” He knelt down and patted a hand on Ross’s blood-soaked jacket. “Doesn’t make it right, though.”

“Nope, it never is.”

“Did you examine the area around here?”

“Yes. It took me an hour to find, but the snow indentations are clear—Razin was lying about five hundred feet away, farther up the mountain. Bastard was watching Ross and the lodge the whole time.”

Will stood and rubbed his facial stubble, knowing that Ross’s blood would now be on his face. “He must have been here hours before us, maybe longer.” Even though he hated Razin’s actions, he couldn’t help but admire the man’s professionalism. “Tomorrow night we need to be in Moscow. We’re going to do something unexpected.”

“Fine by me.” The big ex-Delta man sighed. “But I still think we need backup.”

“You’ll change your mind when I tell you what we’re going to be doing.”

Laith smiled. “Patrick told me and Roger to report back if you started disobeying protocols again.”

As Will had done in his last mission with the two CIA officers.

“Go ahead, but you’ll be making a mistake.”

The American said quietly, “We’re saying nothing.”

Will frowned. “Why?”

Laith moved closer to Will; he was at eye level. “Because we
hope
you know what you’re doing.” His smile faded. “But we also worry that you’ve met your match, that you won’t succeed.”

Will held his gaze. “I’ll succeed. The
bastard’s
time is running out. Soon he’ll make a mistake.”

“You’re that confident?”

Will studied his colleague. “No.”

“I thought so.”

“You knew so.”

“Yeah.” Laith moved back. “I believe you’ll succeed. But the question is whether you’ll do it in time to stop a war.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

W
ill stood on the side of Ulitsa Noviy Arbat in the heart of Moscow’s government district. The large Moskva River was easily visible at the end of the main road. To his left was a thin strip of parkland with tall office buildings behind it. To his right were large, modern-looking government administrative buildings. It was early evening and dark, though street and building lights and a full moon made everything around him easily visible. Cars drove steadily along the road, their headlights illuminating the snow on the ground and flakes falling through the air. There were no pedestrians to be seen; this busy route was for vehicles only. Roger was five hundred feet to his south, beside the river on Smolenskaya Naberezhnaya. Laith was two hundred feet east, directly behind Will on Ulitsa Noviy Arbat. And though they couldn’t see it, a mile farther to the east was the Kremlin.

Will checked his watch. It was 6:14
P.M
. In his earpiece, he heard Roger’s voice. “Nothing yet. But he left at this time yesterday, so stand by to hear from me.”

Will wrapped his arms around his civilian windbreaker jacket and felt Moscow’s icy air penetrate the fabric of his jeans. He stamped his boots on the ground. “Understood.”

Roger spoke again, his voice quiet and tense. “You still have time to change your mind.”

“I know, but we’re going through with this.”

Roger made a sound like a sigh. “This is fucking crazy.”

Will glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see Laith but knew the man was secreted in the parkland by the road. “Laith, all set?”

“Damn right.” The former Delta Force operative sounded totally focused.

“Good.” Will looked back toward the river. “Remember. Keep everyone alive.”

“We know.” Roger went quiet for a few seconds before saying, “Hold. The embassy’s gates are opening.”

Will narrowed his eyes, waiting for Roger to speak again.

“Two BMW saloon cars and one SUV exiting.” Roger’s words were barely audible.

Will held his breath.

“It’s not our target. It’s the ambassador and his bodyguards.”

Will cursed and checked his watch again.

“The gates are closing.” Roger’s slow breathing was heavy; his voice sounded frustrated. “I’ve been watching this place all day. I saw him go in and haven’t seen him leave. He
has
to still be here.”

“Be patient. I’m sure he’s still in the embassy.” But Will examined every car that drove past him in case the target had used another concealed exit from the embassy to get to the road to access his home on Bolotnaya Ploshchad’. One vehicle passed close to him and threw up a wave of icy slush off the road and onto his body. Will brushed the slush from his legs and jacket while watching the car’s driver. The man looked old and waved a hand apologetically. Will looked in the approximate direction of Roger, focusing solely on his earpiece.

It was a further ten minutes before Roger spoke. “A silver Audi’s just pulled up on Smolenskaya Naberezhnaya, a hundred feet from the embassy gates. Two men are inside.”

Will grabbed his throat mic. “FSB?”

“For sure.” Roger went quiet for a while. “They’re just waiting.”

“Assessment?”

“They look routine. The same tail that was on our target yesterday.”

“Okay.” A gust of wind blew snow along the road from the river. Will momentarily shut his eyes as the stuff struck his face. When he opened them, he saw an army truck passing right by him. He held his breath as he casually watched the half-open rear of the truck and the many soldiers inside disappear down the road. For the briefest of moments he wondered if his intentions were too much, too risky, if he
should
abort this mission. But he knew that his only hope of rescuing Sentinel lay in doing something that few would dare attempt in the epicenter of Moscow.

“Gates are opening again.”

Will froze.

“Nothing yet. Hold.” Roger went silent for several seconds. “Okay, now I’ve got engine noises, I’ve got . . . I’ve got headlamps.” Three seconds passed. “Two vehicles. Both Range Rovers. Car in front has two men—definitely the protection detail. Car behind has one driver and no passengers. Driver is . . . yes, driver is target. Repeat, driver in vehicle two is target!”

Will shouted, “Move, Roger!”

“Like I needed to be told!” Roger’s voice was nearly breathless. The man was running at full sprint to the team’s parked vehicle on a side road between the river-straddling Smolenskaya Naberezhnaya and the road that Will and Laith were on. It was the same side road that their target and his bodyguards would be turning onto in seconds. “I’m at our vehicle. Fuck. Okay. Don’t think they spotted me.”

Roger had covered three hundred feet of snow-covered ground between his observation point and the vehicle in twelve seconds.

“I’m mobile, a hundred feet behind the protection detail, our target, and the FSB men who’re tailing them. I can see brake lights. The convoy’s turning onto Ulitsa Noviy Arbat. You should see them.”

Will did see them. He took quick sidesteps into the park so that he was hidden in undergrowth, but the two Range Rovers were still easily visible in the medium traffic on the road. As was the Audi containing the two FSB men, who would certainly be armed but whose job was to merely follow their target, make themselves visible to him, and thereby silently tell him that if he did anything silly in their country they would punish him.

Will crouched low. “Laith?”

“Yeah, I’ve got them.” The American’s words were slow and precise.

Roger’s vehicle emerged onto the road, four vehicles behind the convoy. Roger said, “Okay, stand by.” He went silent. When he spoke again, his tone of voice was one of absolute command. “Stand by. Stand by. Stand by. Okay”—more silence—“let’s go!”