The Carnival Master

6.

The three Spetsnaz made their way back along the edge of the Teteriv river. Buslenko had calculated that, in this moonlight, anyone approaching them would be silhouetted against the sky. When they reached the lodge it was still in darkness, the door wide open. Buslenko sent Stoyan around to the back, got Belotserkovsky to cover him, and swung his aim into the lodge.

‘Captain Sarapenko?’

‘Here,’ said Olga, and switched on a table lamp. She was aiming her automatic at him. She eased the safety catch back on and lowered the weapon.

‘Very good…’ Buslenko smiled. ‘But switch the light off. We’ve got trouble.’

‘Vorobyeva?’

Buslenko shook his head. ‘And we think Tenishchev and Serduchka too.’

Belotserkovsky swung into the lodge and closed the door. Stoyan came in from the back. ‘Clear at the rear. But there’s bad news there as well. Someone has disabled the vehicles. If we want to get out of here, then we have to walk.’

‘That should make it easy for them,’ said Belotserkovsky grimly.

‘Enough of that,’ said Buslenko. ‘I’m not going to let that bastard Vitrenko fillet me the way he did Vorobyeva.’

‘So you think he’s out there?’ asked Olga.

‘Oh, yes. If the prey is special to him, he likes to be there for the kill.’ Buslenko paused, frowning. ‘Funny… I said exactly the same thing to someone just yesterday.’ He felt a sudden panic in his chest as he thought about Sasha. Sasha was no soldier. He was an analyst. A soft and easy target. The thought must have registered in his face.

‘What’s wrong?’ said Olga.

‘The guy I got to put the team together… He was the only person who knew we would be here. They must have got to him.’

‘Bribery?’

‘No…’ Buslenko shook his head. ‘Never. Not Sasha. They must have

…’ He let the thought die.

Belotserkovsy rested a hand on Buslenko’s shoulder. ‘If it was him, Taras, he’s not in any pain now. They wouldn’t have kept him once they knew we were here.’