Close Quarters

SIXTEEN

I watched through the door panel as Grey Suit left the room and walked away down the corridor. He was followed by Travis, who was being hustled along by one of the soldiers, with the others falling in behind. Travis looked pale and uncomfortable, and it was clear he was apprehensive about what was going to happen to him.

The last two to leave were the corridor guards. They exchanged a look of confusion and shrugged, before trailing along in the wake of the others, their presence no longer required.

I gave it a few seconds and went into one of the rooms overlooking the front of the hotel. I flicked back a corner of the curtain and waited.

The road outside was busy with traffic, most of it military of one sort or another. A group of militiamen dressed in ill-fitting combat tops and boots, heavily armed and openly confrontational, was standing out in front of the building, watching what was going on and looking as if they wanted to defend their right to be there. I could feel the tension in the air from up here, and wondered how long this could continue before somebody squeezed a trigger and it all blew to hell.

It wasn’t long before the four men and Travis walked out of the entrance and across to a military UAZ jeep. The militiamen turned and watched, but made no move to stop them. As they did so, the blanked-out truck I’d seen earlier started up, belching grey smoke from its exhaust, and the troops standing at the rear jumped aboard.

I hurried downstairs. I had to get to the car and follow them.

I walked out of the front entrance just as Grey Suit was giving instructions to a junior officer in the passenger seat of the truck.

Obluskva Street, 24d. Kyiv’ski District. Five minutes drive. Wait at the end of the street and don’t go in until given the order.

I’d heard that kind of instruction before. They were planning a raid.

Obluskva. The name was familiar but I couldn’t immediately figure out why. Was that where I’d picked up the Toyota? No. It had been too dark to see street signs. I let it go. Wherever these guys were going, I had to be there too. I had no clear plan in mind, but somehow I had to get Travis out of their hands.

I walked away with a silent apology to Yuriy and his staff problems, and hurried back to the car, where I fed the name of Obluskva into my cell phone and started the engine.

There was a bleep and I looked at the screen. The word Obluskva had come up showing a hyperlink to a document contained in the cell phone’s system. I tapped the screen.

It brought up a cross-reference to one of the addresses from Langley.

It was the local CIA cut-out.