Authors: Don Tompkins
“Thanks, Sam. We’ll get a taxi at the Moscow
airport. The driver’ll know where the hotel is. Ready to get on the
road?” He turned toward the door.
At the same time that Grant and Sam were
heading out of Krakow towards Warsaw, General Wheeler called the
DNI.
“Sir, it’s Wheeler.”
“General, hope all is well. What’s up?”
Barry responded.
“I just heard from Thurmond. Is this line
secure?”
“Yes. I’m on my secure line in my car. I
have a meeting with the CEO of BlackTropics, a contract
intelligence and operations outfit we use sometimes to help us out.
Know them?”
“Yes, sir, I do. Be careful. These guys are
good, but they sometimes exceed the scope of their
assignments.”
“Yeah, we’ve found that out the hard way a
couple of times already. This is just a keep in touch meeting, so
it should go well. I’m meeting the CIA DDI there. She’ll be joining
me for the meeting. BlackTropics is going to update us on their new
skills and people. What’ve you got?”
“As I said, Thurmond is in Krakow and has
picked up quite a bit more detail. He’s narrowed the search down to
three possible men, one of which might be dead. He’s on his way to
Moscow to check out the other two. The good part is that he was
able to get photographs of all of them. I’ll get another update in
a day or two.”
“That’s good news. How close is he, do you
think?”
“Well, Moscow station wasn’t able to
determine the current location of either of the two remaining men,
so it will take some luck for Thurmond to go much farther. I’ve
told him he only has a few more days before I want him back
here.”
“Thanks for the update, General.” The DNI
pressed the off button on his phone and picked up the BlackTropics
briefing folder to read on the way to the meeting.
***
That afternoon, when Vladimir picked up his
messages, he learned that Thurmond was not only on his way to
Moscow, but he had Vladimir’s photograph as well. Moscow was a big
place, so he wasn’t too worried about Thurmond seeing him, and
without his current name, there was no way for Thurmond to find out
where he lived. But, the photo could be a problem back in the US.
If it were passed around to all the security people, it would make
it very difficult to slip through during the inauguration. Vladimir
knew, then, that Thurmond had to die tomorrow and the picture had
to be destroyed. Since Vladimir was wounded, he was worried he
might fail if he tried, so he called an acquaintance in the Moscow
underworld. He told him he wanted someone eliminated.
His acquaintance told him it would not be a
problem, but that it was a cash-only business. Vladimir told him
that was fine. He knew crime was so rampant in Moscow, no one would
ever be able to pin it on him. Hired killings were commonplace,
happening almost every day somewhere in the city. And although
Thurmond probably couldn’t find him, Vladimir knew there were only
a few flights coming into Moscow from Krakow. Thurmond should be
easy to spot and identify to the gangsters. He passed that
information on to his connection and they settled on a price.
The plan was for all of them to start
meeting every flight from Warsaw that afternoon. Vladimir knew that
the quickest way to Moscow from Krakow was LOT airlines through
Warsaw. He was certain that they would choose that route. After
identifying Thurmond, they would follow him and take the first
opportunity to gun him down—and the girl as well, if she were with
him. Nothing elegant, just mass fire power. If this Garcia was
still tailing Thurmond, he might even be able to spot him and take
him out also. That would be a good day.
***
Garcia checked into his hotel in Krakow late
that evening and by 7:00 a.m. the next morning, he was outside what
he guessed was Thurmond’s hotel watching the entrance. It was a
pretty loosey-goosey way to run surveillance, but it was all he
had. Grant and Sam, having left the same hotel a little over two
hours before, were in Warsaw, changing planes for their flight to
Moscow.
Upon arriving at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo
airport, Grant and Sam filed off the plane and went down the
hallway to customs and immigration. There they presented the
immigration forms they had filled out on the plane and waited in a
long line for their baggage to be delivered and then waited in an
even longer line to get through the immigration check point. When
they finally got to the immigration officer, they answered all the
questions asked, said they were traveling together, that they were
only here for a few days on vacation and would be leaving together.
The bored-looking officer stamped their passports and waved them
through.
After another long walk, they passed through
automatic doors timed to admit only one person at a time and saw
what looked to be hundreds of people waiting for other travelers.
Because they knew no one would be meeting them, they just walked
straight through the crowd looking for the taxi stand. Vladimir had
guessed right and saw them immediately. He pointed out Thurmond and
the girl to the men who were with him, handed one man an envelope
filled with cash, and then walked the other direction to the
parking garage. This part of his job was over; the gangsters would
take it from here. He was delighted at his progress.
There were three men following Grant and Sam
and they had no trouble keeping them in sight. A fourth man was
waiting outside in a car parked near the taxi stand. They were all
heavily armed under their long, bulky coats.
I minus 22
Grant and Sam went through the airport lobby
exit doors and were greeted with a blast of frigid winter air. The
temperature had to be below zero and the wind was strong and gusty.
The sky was gray and overcast and light snow swirled around them as
they stood there. Welcome to Russia. After taking a moment to get
their bearings, they managed to locate the taxi stand and told the
man in the kiosk at the head of the line they needed to get to the
Marriott. The guy opened the door of the first taxi in line and
shouted what Grant assumed to be their destination to the driver
and immediately went back inside his small warm kiosk. The driver,
loath to leave the warm car, offered no help in loading their
luggage into the small trunk. Grant told Sam to get out of the wind
into the taxi while he loaded the luggage.
Finally heading down M10 on their way
towards Moscow center, the traffic was heavy and Grant couldn’t
tell whether or not they were being followed. But they were. The
four men had picked up their trail as soon as they got into the
taxi and were only two cars behind. All four were hoping for an
early opportunity to end the workday. Their only task today was to
kill the two people in the taxi in front of them. These were
thugs—experienced killers, but not sophisticated hit men, and they
had no plan other than to find a good spot and open fire. Before
they had pulled out to follow the taxi, one of the four, for a two
hundred Ruble note, had received their destination from the man in
the taxi kiosk and they were anxious to complete their work before
they got to the busy streets around the hotel. Not that they cared
about being seen, it just might make things more difficult on small
streets.
After travelling about four miles, the man
in the front passenger seat said, “Pull up beside them.” The car
surged forward and pulled up next to the taxi.
Grant noticed the car keeping pace with the
taxi. His training kicked in and he was immediately suspicious.
When the car pulled alongside of their taxi, he saw four burly men,
all staring at them. The windows in the car were all rolled down.
It was way too cold for a ride on the freeway with windows rolled
down, even for Russians.
Grant shouted at the taxi driver, “Get out
of here!”
The driver looked in his rear view mirror
and, not knowing what Grant was saying, just shrugged and kept
driving at the same speed. Grant reached forward and grabbed the
driver by the shoulder and made motions with his hand, hoping the
driver would know that he wanted him to pull to the right and slow
down or speed up, whichever—just change course.
As he did that, two of the men in the car
next to him lifted up guns and opened fire. That got the taxi
driver’s attention and he instantly slammed on the brakes. Sam was
sitting directly behind the driver and when the driver braked so
suddenly she flew forward, hitting the back of the driver’s seat
hard. Grant reached over and pulled her down to the floorboard and
covered her with his body. They were unarmed and there was nothing
they could do but cower on the floor and hope they didn’t get hit
with what had become a shower of bullets hitting the taxi. They
were both instantly covered with shards of glass from the window
that the bullets had shattered. During the fusillade, the driver
was obviously hit because he screamed once and then slumped over
the steering wheel. By that time, the taxi was almost stopped and
was drifting slowly to the right of the road. The shooter’s car was
stopped twenty feet ahead and was beginning to back up slowly,
dodging oncoming cars. Grant sat up, reached forward, muscled the
unconscious driver over to the passenger seat and climbed over the
seat to get behind the wheel. He immediately accelerated, passing
the other car far to the right, using the road shoulder to put
distance between them and the shooters. The thugs opened up again
and Grant could hear some of the bullets making impact with the
left rear of the taxi.
“Sam, you alright?” he yelled.
“Yes, no hits. Damn, I wish we were armed.
Where are you going?” Sam answered from the back floorboard.
“I have no idea. Just away from these guys.
Stay low—hug the floor and I’ll try to lose ’em.”
Grant drove like a madman, weaving in and
out of traffic. The bad guys kept coming and were only about forty
feet behind, but not having a clear view of Grant and Sam had at
least stopped shooting. Grant couldn’t believe they’d survived the
onslaught. Not a window was left in the taxi, but he knew it wasn’t
over. As long as these guys were on their tail, they were still in
danger. He was sure that if they got within range, they would open
up again. And this time, being in the driver’s seat, he was too
exposed. He had to stay away at all costs. He had the old taxi
floored now, still weaving through traffic, leaving a trail of blue
exhaust smoke behind. It looked like they were coming into the more
populated areas of Moscow now. Maybe he could escape on one of the
side roads. It was risky, though. He had to let them get close
enough that when he jerked the car to the right onto one of the
exits, they wouldn’t be able to make the turn. Even if they stopped
and backed up, it would take a few seconds and he could use that
time to dodge through alleyways and side streets until they lost
him.
Here goes, he thought. Seeing an exit coming
up, he slowed the car slightly, trying to judge the distance just
right. They were now less than ten feet behind and coming up fast
on the left with their guns brazenly sticking out the windows. When
they were almost beside him, he swerved sharply to the right,
missing the exit surface a bit and bouncing over turf until he got
back on the exit roadway. As he hoped, the other car reacted too
late and missed the turn. Grant screamed through the stop sign
where the exit joined the cross street, made a tire screeching
right turn and rocketed down that street for two or three blocks.
He looked in his rear view mirror hoping they were clear, but
instead he saw the thug’s car just turning right onto the same
street. As he thought, they had stopped and backed up to the exit.
He had two blocks on them; maybe he could outrun them on the side
streets.
He took a left on the next street, then a
right into an alley about halfway down the block. He thought about
pulling into one of the driveways off the alley, but the taxi would
be too easily recognized. He had to ditch this car soon, but not
just yet. At the end of the block, he turned left and saw that he
had miscalculated. The thugs had turned down the same street he was
exiting onto and were now only feet behind. How the hell was he
going to lose these guys? Not having any idea where he was, he shot
straight through a stop sign at the cross street and pushed the
accelerator to the floor. As he bounced over the rough intersection
he nearly went airborne and when he bottomed out on the other side
of the cross street, his tail pipe and muffler separated from the
bottom of the car and each other. They both bounced off the
pavement into the air and immediately into the path of the
following car full of thugs.
The muffler bounced harmlessly off the front
grill, but the tailpipe went right through the front windshield,
between the driver and front seat passenger, impaling the chest of
one of the two men in the back seat, instantly killing him. The
driver began applying brakes to slow down the car, but the
remaining man alive in the backseat yelled for him to go on, to
catch up with the taxi. He then reached across his dead companion,
opened the back passenger-side door of the car and unceremoniously
kicked the dead man and the tail pipe out of the car and closed the
door. His clothes were a little bloody from reaching across the
body, but he didn’t really notice. He was completely focused on
catching and killing his target.
Grant, seeing that the
smoke from the exhaust was increasing and now, hearing the car
roaring without a muffler, knew the taxi was on its last legs.
He
had
to lose
these guys. He noticed they had slowed momentarily and, although
they were coming on fast, they were now almost two blocks behind
him. He made a quick left turn onto another side street and then an
immediate right into an alleyway. This was a very nice neighborhood
for Moscow, where all the houses were two stories and all had a
garage behind them facing the alley. Halfway down the alley he saw
an open garage door and, to his relief, he saw the garage was
empty. Grant pulled the taxi into the garage, shut off the engine,
exited the car and quickly pulled down the garage door. A few
minutes later he heard a car roar by in the alleyway. The car
didn’t stop so it looked like they weren’t spotted. The next
question on his mind was how much time did they have before the
residents of the house confronted them? Or called the police? They
were just going to have to chance it because being discovered by
the residents was far less dangerous than dealing with the
gangsters.