Execution

FIFTY-FOUR

Harry jogged back into cover and waited for Katya to appear, squatting to get a view of the ground below the level of the hanging foliage. He was looking for movement where there shouldn’t be any. It was pointless going any further in search of her; she could have gone in any direction and he would have to trust her to get back to the apartment somehow. All he could do was watch for the men to return this way.

Once he was certain of being alone, he rang Rik.

‘Jesus, was that you?’ the younger man said. ‘It sounded like a war zone out there. You could have called me to help.’

‘No point. It would have given them another target. But they’re now one down and smarting, so they’ll be back.’

‘How do you think they found us?’

‘Richoux, is my bet. Them turning up here is no coincidence.’

‘Unless Katya’s carrying another tag.’

‘If so, they’d have found us earlier. But if she shows up, check her out.’

‘Will do. What do we do now?’

‘Stay put but be ready to move. There was only one car, but I doubt that will last.’

‘Got it. I suppose you didn’t manage to find Starbucks while you were out, did you? I could kill for an Americano.’

‘You and me both.’ Harry switched off and took another look around. Very quiet. And not even a police response to the shooting. That could work in their favour if they had to move; being seen out on the streets following a shooting was a sure-fire way of being picked up.

Then he saw her.

Katya was moving through the trees, stopping at intervals to scout ahead. She was heading for the apartment building. She didn’t look hurt, so he guessed she must have outrun her pursuers. He followed, angling away so that he could watch her back, until he reached the open space and the pathway leading to the building entrance.

He followed her in, then waited just inside, eyes on his back trail. No movement, but it didn’t mean they weren’t out there, watching.

He rang Rik to warn him that he was on his way, then scooted up the stairs and tapped on the door. He found Katya inside, hugging Clare unselfconsciously. They turned as he walked in.

‘There was shooting,’ Katya said. She sounded surprised. ‘What happened?’

He told them in brief detail. Katya said nothing on learning that one of the FSB men had gone down, and agreed to allow Rik to check her clothing when Harry explained about how fast the pursuers had got there.

‘I don’t think it’s you,’ he told her. ‘But we need to leave here now, and I don’t want them following us to the airport.’

‘Is that wise?’ Katya asked. ‘They will be there already, in case we try to fly out.’

‘Do they have enough men?’

‘Yes.’ She looked sombre. ‘For this they will have called in more. In any case, it is too late now to get a flight.’

She was right. With everything that had been happening, he’d lost track of time. They had to find another way.

They left the apartment and found another way down which took them through the basement and up the other side in case the Russians were waiting. Rik went ahead to scout the area leading to the main streets and pick up a taxi.

On the way, Harry’s phone rang.

It was Ballatyne.

‘What happened to you? Is everyone all right?’

‘Fine so far,’ said Harry. ‘But you need a new local asset in Vienna.’

‘I heard about Richoux.’ Ballatyne sounded tired. ‘Sorry, I’ve been a bit tied up here. We had a total shutdown and I’ve been fire-fighting most of the day. Richoux left his apartment late this afternoon and nobody’s seen him since. His girlfriend said he emptied his bank account and told her he wouldn’t be back. He didn’t say why.’

‘He’s got new friends, that’s why.’

‘It figures. We’ve already rolled up the network over there. They’ll be replaced as soon as we can get new faces in place.’

‘They know about the safe house, so we’re getting out of here now. I’ll tell you the rest later. But we can’t use the airport at Schwechat; they’ll have it sealed up tight.’

‘Hang on.’ There was a muffled silence, then he came back moments later. ‘Right. You need to get to Wiener Neustadt Ost. It’s a civilian airfield forty kilometres south of Vienna. I’ll have to use up some favours but I’ll have a military flight waiting tomorrow morning.’

‘Good. Tell them we’ll have one extra.’

‘Balenkova?’

‘Yes. She needs full entry and protection. She won’t be going home again.’

‘You know the powers that be will want a quid pro quo from her?’

‘Good luck with that.’

‘Thanks. Call me when you get in,’ he added curtly. ‘We need a debrief.’

In London, in the Mayfair office where they had held their first meeting, Sergei Gorelkin was raging. News that Jardine was still at large had been compounded by hearing that Katya Balenkova had defected and the FSB team sent after her was a man down.

‘Federal Protective Service officers do not defect, Symenko!’ he shouted down the phone, slamming a fist down on the table. ‘The FSB does not lose personnel!’ He gripped the handset hard enough to crush it, eyes glinting like pieces of ice. ‘This is unacceptable! If you do not find these women and the men helping them, I will have you replaced, do you hear me?’

Across the table from him, Lieutenant Votrukhin and Sergeant Serkhov stayed very still. To comment now, even to move at the wrong moment, would be to invite disaster. They felt a measure of sympathy for the man Symenko, on the other end of the phone, but only insofar as his being the focus of Gorelkin’s anger meant they, for the time being, were not. They knew, however, that it would not last for long. If Jardine and Balenkova managed to get back to London, their peaceful world would shatter in an instant.

‘Fucking idiots!’ Gorelkin slammed the phone down, bouncing it clear across the table so that Serkhov had to retrieve it. ‘You two had better upgrade your efforts, I can tell you. That incompetent donkey Symenko won’t be able to stop them leaving Vienna, which means they will be back here by tomorrow at the latest.’

‘Might they decide to go somewhere else instead?’ said Votrukhin hopefully, who was wishing he could get on a plane to Moscow right now. Anything was better than staying with this sinking ship. He was now in full agreement with Serkhov; that Gorelkin was following some kind of secret agenda, and they were trapped like flies in his web until he let them go. Worse, he couldn’t help but feel that Gorelkin had finally lost control of the situation, and he and Serkhov were in danger of being dragged down with him. But getting out was not a luxury they could afford.

‘No. They will come back here. You must redouble your efforts to find Jardine.’ He rubbed at the side of his jaw. It was the first sign of nerves that the two men had seen in him, renewing their concern about what this operation had turned into. ‘This cannot be allowed to go any further,’ he muttered. ‘We must end this now.’

‘And if we don’t?’ said Votrukhin. ‘We don’t even know where they are. And every day we stay in London is a day closer to our being identified.’

‘Don’t!’ Gorelkin snapped. ‘I will not have defeatist talk! This is vital work, much more so than either of you two clods can imagine. Now get out there and do your jobs!’

Votrukhin stood up, an angry retort on his lips. But Serkhov grabbed his arm and stopped him.

The two men walked out without a word, leaving Gorelkin staring at something very far away.