The Russian Deception

CHAPTER 9

Valentina was on the far side of the river near the bridge, waiting for her target to appear. She only needed to get close enough to brush against him. In her pocket was a device that contained a powerful, silent electric charge. It propelled a tiny poisoned dart that could penetrate a thick outer jacket and underlying layers of clothing. An unnoticed touch against the target's back or side and he'd be dead within minutes. It was not an easy way to die. That was of little concern to Valentina. Her concern was the successful completion of her mission.

She watched what was happening in the square with growing unease. It wasn't because the demonstration was getting violent that she felt uneasy. It was that Todorovski wasn't going to show up if the demonstration disintegrated into a riot.

Her thoughts calmed when she saw Todorovski coming along the river walkway, surrounded by a cluster of people. In a minute he would be close enough for her to mingle with the crowd and kill him. No one would know what had happened.

The first shots sounded on the other side of the river. She swiveled toward the sound. People were panicking, struggling to get away, to cross the bridge, to run from the soldiers.

The leader of the 11 October movement stopped and began talking to one of the men with him, gesturing at the square. She couldn't hear what he was saying but it looked like he was being urged to turn back. Another man joined in. Then Todorovski shrugged and turned away. His face was angry. He began walking back the way he had come.

Now I have to think of something different.

There was a sudden disturbance in the middle of the bridge. A large man began knocking people down as they fled the square.

A provocateur, she thought. One of Mitreski's men.

Another man wearing a dark blue jacket walked straight up to the thug and kicked him between the legs before he could react, bringing him down.

I wonder who he is? Not many men would attack first like that.

She was about to follow after Todorovski when the stage disintegrated in an explosion that rocked the square. Pieces of debris fountained into the air and scythed through the crowd. A dirty cloud of gray-black smoke rose into the wintry sky. Echoes rolled back from the mountains that formed the valley where the city lay.

Then the screaming began.

Der'mo, she thought. Shit.

The cloud of smoke drifted over dozens of dead and wounded. The blast had taken down police, soldiers and protesters together with indifference.

Valentina turned her back on the scene and began walking after Todorovski, her mind working on what had just happened.

Who's behind it? Mitreski? But some of his troops were killed.

It occurred to her that the Kremlin could be responsible but Orlov gained nothing by the violence. She was sure he'd given the order to send her here; it made sense. The West saw Todorovski as a potential ally, someone who would fall in with their plans to contain a resurgent Russia. Someone who would be open to placing missiles on Macedonian territory. At that level of politics, the order to terminate had to have come from the Kremlin. Orlov had no need for a bomb with her assigned to handle the problem.

The bomb had probably been on a timer. Todorovski's appearance had been delayed past the scheduled time. If it had been controlled by a remote detonator, the assassin would have waited until Todorovski mounted the stage. The explosives had been placed under the speaker's platform and if things had gone as planned, the leader of the 11 October movement would now be scattered in a thousand bloody pieces over Skopje.

The first ambulance screamed by.