The Russian Deception

CHAPTER 15

Valentina's hotel room was across the street from where Todorovski was staying with his band of supporters. Since the bombing, the leader of the 11 October movement had surrounded himself with bodyguards. Four large men formed a living wall to protect him against any threat. Her assignment had become more difficult. She could no longer get close enough to inject the poison. She was considering the challenge when a call from Vysotsky changed everything.

"Valentina. There has been a change in plan."

Vysotsky's voice rasped in her ear. He's been at the vodka again, she thought, smoking those peasant cigarettes. He'll never change.

"Yes?"

"It has been decided a more obvious demonstration is called for concerning our troublemaking friend."

"What do you mean, obvious?"

"It is no longer necessary that his death appear natural. On the contrary, the more public and disturbing, the better."

"May I ask why?"

"It's not your concern. You have your orders."

"Our friend has scheduled another speech. He will be speaking from a balcony in front of his hotel tomorrow morning. It will provide an opportunity."

"Good."

"I need a weapon. A Dragunov SVD or something similar."

"I thought you might," Vysotsky said. "It is already taken care of. Go to this address." He rattled off the street and number. "Ask for Vlad. When you are finished, come home." He broke the connection.

Home.

Home was a small apartment off Leningradsky Prospeckt in downtown Moscow, convenient to the Zamoskvoretskaya line of the Moscow Metro. Moscow in winter could be fun if you had the money for the clubs but Valentina preferred being in the field and away from the temptations of the city. It was dangerous for her to loosen the rigid control she kept on her inner demons. She had found that out the hard way.

There'd been a time when she'd explored the dark side of Moscow nights, careful to avoid notice by the watchdogs of her service. A memory flooded over her, unbidden.

She came awake naked and cold, in a strange hotel room, lying in a bed soaked with blood, next to a dead man. She couldn't remember anything except that she'd been drinking with him in one of the clubs earlier that evening.

The knife that had killed him was still in her hand. His blood was spattered over her, over the bed, on the walls.

She couldn't remember!

She got out of bed and made sure the door was locked. Her clothes were scattered on the floor. She went into the bathroom and rinsed off blood. She came out and dressed and went around the room, wiping down anything she might have touched. It took no more than a minute. Dawn was just cracking the Moscow skyline when she slipped out of the room. The door locked behind her.

She headed for the emergency staircase at the end of the hall. As the door to the stairs eased shut behind her, three large men came down the hotel corridor and stopped at the room she had just left. The leader raised his fist and pounded on the door.

She hadn't stayed to see what happened next. She'd left the hotel by a back entrance, unseen. For weeks she'd waited for the knock on the door in the middle of the night. It never came.

She'd struggled to remember anything about that night, without success. The only thing she knew for certain was that someone had set her up. It had been during a time when a power struggle was in full bloom between the Federation's internal security service, the FSB, and her own agency, SVR.

There was no way to know who was behind it. The experience frightened her and heightened her normal state of paranoia. Since then she'd avoided the clubs completely. Waiting in Moscow between assignments meant spending time in her apartment or in public places like the gym or library, where she could see everyone around her.

She shook off the unpleasant memories and walked to the address Vysotsky had given her. The apartment building was on Miroslav Krieza Street, blocks away from Alexander Square. She entered the building and found the apartment she was looking for on the third floor. She knocked on the door. Footsteps sounded on the other side.

"Yes."

"I am looking for Vlad."

"Who sent you?"

"A mutual friend in Moscow. You have something for me."

She heard a chain rattle on the other side. The door opened part way.

"What is your name?"

"Valentina."

The door opened all the way. "Come in."

The man was about fifty. He had a large mustache stained yellow with nicotine. She wrinkled her nose against the smell of stale garlic, body odor and tobacco that hung around him in a noxious cloud. He was shorter than Valentina and walked with a limp. He closed the door after her.

"Follow me."

He led her down a narrow hall that smelled of cabbage to the back of the apartment. A television played in one of the rooms to the side of the hall. A long box from a florist shop lay on the kitchen table, wrapped with a red ribbon and bow. Vlad slipped the ribbon off the box and opened the lid. Inside was a rifle in pieces, a short barreled Dragunov SVU. The specialized bull pup Spetsnaz variation was designed for quick takedown and concealment. Next to the barrel lay a Pritsel Snaipersky Optichesky, a PSO-1 sniper scope. The pieces fitted nicely in gray foam lining within the innocent looking box.

Valentina gave a small sound of approval. She picked up the barrel and held it to the light and looked down the bore, at the shining steel and the rifling spiraling away to the muzzle. She set the barrel down and examined the receiver. The weapon was clean.

"It will do," she said.

Vlad snorted. "You know how to assemble it? It is very powerful. Have you fired one before?"

Vlad looked into Valentina's eyes and felt a sudden chill. He looked away.

"There is no need to return the weapon when you are finished with it. It cannot be traced."

"I don't intend to."

Valentina packed the pieces back into the box, closed the lid and replaced the ribbon. Except for the weight, it easily passed for a box of flowers.

"I was never here," she said. "You are clear about this?"

"Yes, of course. Never here."

Valentina nodded, once. She picked up the box.

"Thank you," she said.

Vlad looked surprised by the politeness. Valentina stifled an urge to laugh.

She was careful to close the door behind her as she left.