Final Target

CHAPTER 67

Ninchenko and Gage drove back toward the apartment, leaving Ninchenko’s men to watch Alla and Matson’s return to the Lesya Palace Hotel.

“I sure didn’t see that coming,” Gage said as they wound their way back toward central Kiev.

He stared for a moment at the dimly lit street, then shook his head slowly. “Makes me wonder what else I missed.”

“Why not blow up the plant?” Ninchenko asked when he, Gage, and Slava met for a drink at the apartment. They sat at the dining table, bottled water in front of Gage and Ninchenko, vodka in front of Slava.

“I want it,” Slava said. “If Gravilov fall or opposition win, I get it. And blow up not solve problem anyway.”

“No, it won’t,” Gage said. “Rubble in Eastern Ukraine isn’t evidence.”

“Bullet in head solve everybody problem,” Slava said.

Gage gave Slava a sour look. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Just little joke.” Slava poured a shot of vodka into his glass and tossed it down. “Not easy to bury body in forest when ground frozen.”

“With Alla on the inside”-Gage glanced at Slava-“and Matson still alive…”

Ninchenko nodded. “Maybe she can gather enough evidence so she can testify about what Matson was really doing over here.”

Gage shook his head. “And then spend the rest of her life on the run? Gravilov, Hadeon Alexandervich, and all of Ukrainian security will be tracking her like wolves on the hunt.”

“What about your Witness Protection Program?” Ninchenko asked.

“That’s only if she’s willing and if the U.S. Attorney buys her story-which he has no incentive to do. How will it sound? Daughter of gangster Petrov Tarasov, traveling under Panamanian passport, fights with her boyfriend, then gets even by running to the government with a made-up story?”

Gage stared at the water bottle on the table before him, overcome by a sense of foreboding, worried that he was leading Alla, like Granger before her, into a Gravilov trap-and feeling straitjacketed by conflicting, if not contradictory, goals: making sure the devices never got installed in missile guidance systems while obtaining hard enough evidence to crush the conspiracy of words upon which Peterson was resting his indictment of Burch.

Then a thought.

He looked at Ninchenko. “How many people would it take to break in and destroy the devices? I’ll just need to preserve a few for evidence.”

“That depends on the security at the plant,” Ninchenko said.

“How soon can we get out there?”

“You take my plane at Zhulyany Airport,” Slava said, after tossing down another shot of vodka. “Ready in thirty minutes. Two-hour flight to Dnepropetrovsk. Car waiting when you arrive.”

“Good. Now let’s hope that Alla doesn’t snitch us off.”