The Hunter

CHAPTER 59

Rotov, Russia

Thursday

17:50 MSK

In the good old days all it took to get an operation moving was the will of a high-ranking officer. While the Soviet empire stood strong, the KGB moved fast and decisively, answering only to the very top. Things moved much slower these days, Aniskovach thought bitterly, and the power of the SVR was but a shadow of that which the KGB enjoyed. In twenty-first-century Russia, as in the SVR’s Western counterparts, layer on layer of bureaucracy strangled every command.

The tall SVR colonel rubbed his gloved hands together while he waited for the plane to be loaded. Grim-faced soldiers took aboard rucksacks full of supplies: diving gear, weapons, salvage equipment, and explosives. The plane was an Ilyushin Il-76, a venerable workhorse of the Soviet and now Russian air force. This particular plane was owned by the SVR and used exclusively by the organization. The original military insignias were still visible through the thin layer of paint that covered them. The hammer and sickle still endured, albeit faintly.

In his youth, Aniskovach had witnessed first-hand the last breath of Communism pushed from the lungs of his beloved nation. That system may not have worked as intended, but at least it had given his country its own ideology and a fiercely strong national identity. These days Russia was but capitalism’s poor adopted child struggling to take its first unassisted step. If Russia was a tree, it had already bathed in summer’s warmth and now was embraced by winter’s chill. Spring’s regrowth was a far off dream. Aniskovach hoped he lived long enough to see the restoration of Russia’s rightful place at the head of the world.

He stood silently observing. There was nothing to say. The soldiers did not need his instructions. They were members of the Spetsnaz, the Russian army’s special forces, but they were all, like Aniskovach, dressed in civilian clothes. Each member of the seven-man team had been selected because of his exemplary record in both diving and demolitions. Each one was a highly trained and superbly disciplined warrior, adept at planning and logistics as well as fighting. After Aniskovach had briefed the team on the mission’s objectives, they had selected their own equipment and supplies.

The SVR had no control of the Spetsnaz, which was a regiment of the Russian army, but at times the elite soldiers were loaned out to the SVR on a per-mission basis. Any such operations were usually kept off the soldiers’ records. The GRU, the army’s own intelligence service and a fierce rival of the SVR, would often be aware of these activities, but the GRU had no knowledge of this particular mission, thanks to Prudnikov’s influence.

Bypassing the usual channels was slowing the whole operation down considerably. Aniskovach, if it had been purely up to him, would have left for Tanzania at least twenty-four hours ago, but Prudnikov was playing it safe. He had been burned once recently and was not willing to feel the fire so soon a second time, even if Aniskovach was confident the mission would be a complete success. Securing both the services of the Spetsnaz without the knowledge of the GRU and a plane to fly the equipment had taken three whole days. It would be another day before the plane was able to fly.

The wind blowing from the east stung Aniskovach’s face, especially his wounded cheek. The base had little protection from elements. The single strip of runway and three hangars that constituted the airport were the skeletal remains of a Soviet air force base, long abandoned by the military and now used privately. Tonight the only customers were the SVR.

It didn’t take long before the plane was loaded. The equipment, though too much for individuals to carry, did not require a plane with a cargo capacity of forty tons to transport. Without using such a plane, however, it wouldn’t be possible to get the equipment over several international borders and to its destination.

The plane was supposedly set to embark on a humanitarian mission, flying to Tanzania to deliver medical supplies for charities working in Rwanda to the north-west. The fact that, aside from the equipment required by Aniskovach’s team, the plane’s cargo consisted of empty crates would not matter. The appropriate officials in the Tanzanian government would be offered cash incentives for going along with the charade.

Aniskovach and his team would travel commercially to Tanzania in two separate groups before joining up at their destination. Eight Russians travelling together would attract undue attention, especially when only three spoke languages other than their own. The first team would pick up the equipment from the plane and drive north from Tanzania’s capital, Dar es Salaam, to Tanga. Once they had rejoined as a team they would collect the equipment that would be waiting for them and hire a suitable boat. They would then take the boat and locate the Lev.

The SVR colonel had no plans to recover all the missiles, impressive as that would be; just the guidance systems would do to provide proof of Ozols’s traitorous deception. The rest would be destroyed along with the frigate to ensure no other parties gained Russian technology. Aniskovach could then reveal the entire plot to Moscow and his role in preventing it. The stain caused by the St Petersburg blunder would be washed clean away.

With a gloved finger Aniskovach absently stroked his damaged face. The pain was still intense at times, but he made sure no one witnessed him taking his pills or those moments where the pain got the better of his will. It was bad enough to be disfigured without appearing weak as well.

A stocky Spetsnaz corporal approached him.

‘The equipment has been loaded and secured, sir.’

‘Very good.’

The corporal stepped back and rejoined his colleagues.

Though it was unnecessary for the operation’s success that he accompany the team, Aniskovach would nevertheless take direct command. He had absolute faith in the abilities of the Spetsnaz, but it would look better to the powers that be if he was there personally.

The plane would arrive in Tanzania in the early hours of Saturday and the supplies should reach Tanga by midday. It wouldn’t take long to locate the sunken frigate or to complete the recovery and blow up the Lev.

Facial movements hurt him severely, so Aniskovach didn’t look anywhere near as pleased as he felt. Within a few short days he knew his honour would be restored.