The Lost Labyrinth

II

Viktor stood in the forest fringes and stared through field-glasses down at Ilya Nergadze's castle. His mind was a little fried; he wasn't as young as he'd once been and all-nighters took their toll.

When he'd got his warrant just five hours earlier, he'd never imagined everything could be put together this quickly. But he'd underestimated the power of having a direct line to the presidential palace. He'd forgotten what special forces could do when they put their mind to it.

The castle looked impossibly romantic in the morning light, like something from a movie. Its drawbridge was up, and there was no sign of movement, except for the guards walking their rounds upon the battlements. Patches of mist lay in the little valleys in the meadows. There were wild swans on the lake and, somewhere, a hoopoe was calling. A more peaceful scene was hard to imagine.

Not for much longer.

There were techniques for taking down people as powerful as Ilya Nergadze. Humiliation was one. Film them doing something shameful, and they were politically finished. That had been his initial plan. Ilya's predilection for young boys was well-known, though getting footage was easier said than done. But Viktor's brief hadn't been merely to bring down Ilya. It had been to destroy his entire brood, their capacity for revenge. So he'd devised other approaches. They'd been ready to go for weeks. All he'd needed was the pretext.

Nikortsminda was the Nergadze's stronghold. That made it their weakness too. They thought themselves safe here, impregnable. That was why, though the whole clan never all gathered together in Tbilisi, they often did here. And they saw themselves as above the law. The last time a policeman had come here uninvited, he'd been chased off with shotguns.

Viktor's ears had pricked up when he'd heard that.

Through his field-glasses, he could see tarpaulins on the battlements. Word was, they were gun emplacements arrayed to defend the castle from ground, lake or aerial assault. He hadn't been able to verify it, but he wouldn't put it past them. Such was the arrogance of the Nergadzes here in Nikortsminda; such was the arrogance he needed for his plan to come off. He felt flutters in his chest, exacerbated by the Kevlar vest beneath his shabby police uniform. 'Are the phones out yet?' he asked.

'On your command,' said Lev.

'And the mobile masts?'

'Like I said, on your command.'

'What about our teams?'

'They're all in place. Like they were five minutes ago.'

It was the speed with which this had been put together that worried him. In plans this rushed, it was all too easy to overlook something. In plans this rushed, you couldn't assemble overwhelming force, you had to rely on surprise-and he'd already missed the dawn. But election day was looming, and his boss was getting fretful. He took a deep breath. He'd joined the service out of a genuine desire to serve his country, not to make a career. But the life grew on you; you came to realise that nothing else would do. Fuck this up, and his career was toast. But make a success of it…

'Okay,' he said. 'Let's do it.'