Putin's Gambit

23

Derek Walsh felt that he had made some inroads talking to Ted Marshall on the bench in the courtyard, but before he could close the deal and blatantly ask for entrance to the office, he was totally distracted by the approach of the Russian with a scar on his face. Marshall never looked up at the guy.

Walsh knew it was no coincidence the guy was in front of his building. He was starting to get a picture of a larger conspiracy. But at the moment the Russian was not looking around for him. He was here for some other reason. Perhaps it was to talk to the young couple he was walking with now.

All these ideas of conspiracy made Walsh think he had made the right decision running from the FBI. He doubted the federal government wanted to listen to stories about Russian conspiracies until he had more evidence. Tonya Stratford appeared to be coming around to a dialogue with him, but he’d feel better about the meeting if he already had the photograph from his security plug. He didn’t think Agent Stratford’s partner would give him much of a chance to talk.

Walsh was ready to take action when the Russian was at the closest point to the bench, but the man just kept walking with the young couple. They took the path directly out of the courtyard and into the street. Walsh turned to Marshall and quickly said, “Ted, you understand my situation and what I can do to clear myself. You know me, and you know I didn’t do anything wrong. Think about that. I’ll be in touch.”

With that, Walsh sprang from the bench and started to follow the Russian guy down the street. He had no experience in surveillance and immediately realized how difficult it was. But he had questions that needed answers. Perhaps answers he could pass on to Tonya Stratford. Who the hell was this guy? What was his involvement? Walsh understood that some of the things he had said to Agent Stratford sounded crazy. He didn’t want anyone to write him off as a lunatic.

The young couple stopped for a moment and bought something from a takeout window at a pizzeria. The Russian looked annoyed and hurried them along as the girl started to munch on a slice of pizza.

Walsh had no idea where this would lead or what information he might find, but this was a lucky break that he wasn’t going to let slip through his fingers.

It was early evening when Anton Severov, Fannie, and Amir reached the Narva River, which were the natural border between Estonia and Russia. There was no one waiting to cross, and the border guards seemed less than interested in talking to anyone. He could see that on the Russian side of the river there were already a military vehicle and several soldiers waiting for him. They eased through the river crossing and stopped at the far side of the bridge. The Russian soldiers started to stir and get the vehicle ready to move. They were probably annoyed that it’d taken so long. Severov had told them he’d be at the border by six, and now it was after eight. But the idea of separating from Fannie was difficult for both of them.

The idea of having Fannie suffer any consequences for their night of passion was not only difficult, it was unbearable. That was why he had told Amir to walk with him.

Severov kissed Fannie good-bye and gave her a long, lingering hug. She whispered in his ear as he pulled away, “Promise to call me as soon as you’re back on this side of the border.” He nodded and turned to Amir, who appeared more anxious for Severov to leave than anything else. He walked toward the checkpoint and waved to the soldiers on the other side. The Russian soldiers must have spoken to the Estonian border guards, because they didn’t even bother to come out of their comfortable checkpoint booth and waved Severov on.

This was working out better than he expected as he put his arm around Amir’s shoulder and said, “You have been a great deal of help. I know we’ve had our differences, but I think you’ll be happy with the results.”

Amir swelled with pride, nodding his head as he walked along with the taller Russian officer.

Katazin turned the corner and saw his BMW up the street. There was no one in either direction, and if he turned the corner quickly, took action, and jumped in his car, he could handle this one problem in a matter of seconds.

His pulse increased, and he felt a thin line of sweat across his forehead. Outside of combat in the Russian military, he had never had to kill anyone. He had done some unpleasant things to find out information or enhance his reputation, but for the most part any real violence could be contracted out to men like Serge Blattkoff.

Tallett turned quickly, as if he had a sense of what might happen. Or maybe he just realized wandering the streets aimlessly was not going to gain him fifty thousand dollars. He said, “Do you have a stash house or something around here?”

Katazin said, “Something like that,” as his hand slipped up to his front pocket. Once again he wished he had a knife, but two quick shots echoing through the buildings would be difficult to pinpoint. His alternate idea was to make it to his car where he had a Gerber hunting knife with a four-inch blade. He had found it helpful around the import/export business and kept it in the pocket of his driver’s side door. It had never occurred to him to use it in this way.

Now Tallett was purposely slowing down and showing hesitation. “Where are we going?”

Katazin casually pointed at his BMW just half a block away and said, “I have your down payment in my car.”

“How much of a down payment?”

He wanted to be realistic but also offer enough to entice the younger man to the BMW. After a moment of calculation, Katazin said, “Ten grand.” Judging by the expression on Tallett’s face, he had hit the figure right on the head. The younger man took his girlfriend’s hand and continued to follow Katazin down the street.

Derek Walsh had no experience in police work other than watching Law & Order and reading Michael Connelly novels, but, like everyone else, he thought that made him competent to follow people and figure out what was going on. In this case he was right. He could clearly see something criminal was about to occur. Some sort of exchange. Just the way the Russian looked up and down the street and then headed toward a white BMW jammed into a space near a Korean grocery made it obvious.

Walsh knew he had to do something, but pulling his pistol and opening fire didn’t seem like the right choice. Earlier, Agent Stratford had asked if Walsh knew this guy’s name. Maybe he could take a step closer by paying attention and keeping his eyes open. He didn’t know if the young couple were part of this conspiracy, but he was making mental notes on them as well.

The man was maybe thirty and wiry, with tattoos and piercings and close-cropped hair. The girl was much younger, probably not yet twenty, and also had some tattoos. She had dark red dyed hair and didn’t seem to be part of the conversation as she finished the last bite of her slice of pizza.

Walsh was careful to stand on the corner and look into the window of a men’s clothing store. It gave him a vantage point where he could not be seen easily by the Russian. It was a safe position, a strategic position, but something inside him said to move forward and take action. He felt the call and reached down to feel the grip of the Beretta tucked into his pants.

Severov wondered how this looked to the soldiers waiting for him at the vehicle. They had no idea or advance warning about Amir. All they saw was a Russian major hanging his arm across the shoulder of a little guy with dark hair. From a distance they could easily mistake Amir for a teenager.

As they walked, Severov said, “We’re going to need several things if this operation is to be a success.” He kept his voice serious and direct even though he had no idea what he was going to say. He just needed to keep Amir calm until they were across the border.

Amir looked up at him, obviously interested in dealing a blow against the Americans.

Severov continued, “We’re going to need communications disrupted, and I think the best way to do that is to have you take out the cell phone towers about twenty miles from here on the main road. They are unguarded, and all you would need to do is cut a few wires.” He didn’t want the job to sound too difficult or dangerous. He was sure that, like most of the Islamic zealots, Amir would be happy to send someone else to their death but would be more cautious with his own life. His main reason for coming up with a crazy fake plan was to buy time as they walked closer and closer to the Russian soldiers.

Amir said, “I haven’t heard anything about this before now.”

“That must mean that they have a plan to take care of it. The other thing we could really use is your help as liaison with some of our Muslim soldiers. We tried to recruit evenly throughout Russia and the republics, and as a result we have a number of Muslim conscripts. It would help to have a man like you that understands what we’re trying to accomplish talk to them.”

Now Amir was clearly confused. “You mean after they cross the border? When Russia has taken Estonia?”

Now they were at the vehicle, and the three soldiers had snapped to attention. One was a driver, and the other two held Vityaz-SN submachine guns on straps across their chests. Severov felt this was a good position and knew the soldiers would follow his lead. He stopped and turned to face Amir.

“No, I mean that you need to come with me now to help in our camp before the operation begins. I was told you would do whatever I need you to, and this is currently my most pressing need. Please get in the vehicle.”

Amir just stood there, stunned. Finally he was able to say, “You mean you are kidnapping me and taking me inside of Russia? I was never told to leave Europe.”

“I was never told I’d have such a sniveling swine as a guide.”

Amir turned, ready to sprint back toward the bridge.

Severov said to the two armed men in Russian, “Don’t let that little ass leave. Throw him in the transport.”

Amir struggled until one of the men struck him in the head with the butt of his small machine gun. Severov concealed a smile. He couldn’t resist turning to look back toward the bridge and see Fannie’s beautiful face. She knew exactly what was happening and why he was doing it.

Severov hoped she knew enough to get clear of the border and head back toward Poland as quickly as possible. A shooting war was about to start.