Authors: Murray McDonald
“Sir, they’ve just informed me that we have one minute to turn back or they will shoot us down!” The pilot’s voice burst through the silence brewing in the rear cabin of the Kamov KA-60 helicopter.
“Rubbish!” shouted the General.
The ear-piercing screech of the missile detection system cut through the General’s response.
Vasiliy, probably the only man alive who could do so, put his hand on the arm of the General. “General, I think they may be serious,” he offered, in an attempt to avert the General’s ego killing them all.
Shrugging Vasiliy’s arm aside. “Land!” he barked at the pilot who was only too happy to oblige.
As the pilot pulled a dramatic and almost immediate landing on the edge of the town, Borodin looked fit to explode. However, almost immediately as they landed, a large and very Soviet era Zil limousine pulled up at the helicopter’s side. A well dressed chauffeur rushed to open the General’s door and led him to the waiting Limousine, taking a significant amount of steam out of the General’s fury. Vasiliy followed, rather bewildered. He had not informed them of the General’s visit. This had been done as they flew in, only minutes before.
As Vasiliy exited the helicopter in an attempt to keep up, he noticed another man had exited the rear of the limousine, impeccably dressed and standing to attention as the General approached him.
Vasiliy sped up and was at the General’s side when they reached the Zil.
“General Borodin, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sir.” The man offered him his hand.
Borodin took it and shook it. “I’m sorry, you are?” The welcoming party after the threats had completely thrown him off guard. That and his age. The man was eighty if a day, thought Vasiliy.
“The Program Director General, Dr Boris Surkov.”
“Surkov, Surkov, I recognize the name,” thought Borodin aloud.
Vasiliy leant forward and whispered in his ear. “He is on your payroll, General.”
“Ah of course, you work for GRU!” reminded Borodin loudly.
“Technically, yes,” he said before indicating that it was time for the General and Vasiliy to enter the car.
As they settled into the plush politburo car, Borodin wondered at the interior. He had not seen anything like it for twenty years.
“Fantastic.” His mood had completely changed, the wonders of nostalgia on an old warhorse.
“I know, believe it or not, it has only three thousand kilometers on the odometer.”
Vasiliy could see the look in Borodin’s eyes. The Zil would be requisitioned and no more would be mentioned of the no fly zone debacle.
“Anyway, how may I help you today, General Borodin?”
“I just felt it was time to pay a visit.”
“Unannounced?”
“Is that a problem?!” demanded Borodin who was unused to being questioned.
“Frankly, yes.”
Borodin’s face reddened notably. “Do I need to remind you who I am and what I can do to you?!” asked Borodin as evenly as his temper would allow.
“General, save your threats for somebody who gives a shit.” Surkov’s voice belied his age and frailty. The words stung as Surkov rose to the General’s challenge. Vasiliy had never seen anything like it. In all his years, nobody had ever spoken to Borodin in such a manner. Vasiliy looked at the old man who up until a second ago looked like an average sweet old grandfather. But the eyes were dead. There was nothing there. Vasiliy could not believe the transformation, the sweet old man look had been replaced by a monster. The intensity and coldness of his eyes were pure evil. Vasiliy had seen a similar look only once in his life, despite having dealt with hundreds of assassins and killers within GRU over the years. It was a look from a time long ago, a time he had spent many years trying to forget. Dr Boris Surkov reminded Vasiliy of his boyhood in camps where no boy should ever have been and where Vasiliy’s parents had met their maker because of their religion.
Vasiliy shivered involuntarily as he watched General Borodin’s resolve falter under the stare of the old doctor.
“You work for me!” countered Borodin, with less force than he had hoped.
“I work for Russia!” replied Surkov quickly and forcefully.
“Of course you do but under me!”
“You have no idea what you are getting into, do you?” asked Surkov evenly.
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“So, what is Grebnevo then?” asked Surkov with a smile.
“You train sleeper agents!”
Surkov laughed and opened the Zil door. “Go back to Moscow Yuri and come back when you’re a big boy!”
Vasiliy moved quickly and placed his hand over Yuri Borodin’s holster, stopping him from shooting the old man. Borodin’s anger consumed him and he pushed at Vasiliy’s hand to free his ability to teach Surkov a lesson he would remember for the rest of his very short life.
Surkov did not flinch and remained calm as he stared at the massive and enraged Borodin.
“Dr Surkov, perhaps an apology would be in order?” asked Vasiliy struggling to contain the General and in an attempt to calm the situation.
Surkov smiled and shook his head slightly. He had no intention whatsoever of appeasing Borodin. He watched Borodin as only a scientist could, seemingly noting every detail, move and reaction, filing it away as he would the results of any lab experiment.
Borodin gave up trying to wrestle the pistol from his holster and instead made a move for Surkov with his bare hands.
“That, General,” offered the driver, calmly pointing a pistol at Borodin’s head, “Would prove to be a monumental error of judgment.”
With Borodin at the driver’s mercy, Surkov leant forward and disarmed Borodin. “Govin will look after your pistol for you, General,” he said, handing the weapon to the driver.
Vasiliy considered making a move for the General’s weapon but again a flashback to his days in the camps had him frozen to the spot.
Borodin sat back in his seat and struggled desperately to contain his fury.
“Excellent, now that we have that out of our system, perhaps we can go?” offered Surkov smiling at both Vasiliy and Borodin.
The driver remained facing the rear of the car, his pistol trained on the forehead of General Yuri Borodin, Head of the GRU.
Borodin nodded slightly and was rewarded with the pistol being removed and the driver turning and beginning their drive to Grebnevo.
As the car pulled away from the helicopter’s landing site, Surkov asked “So where were we?”
Borodin remained silent, looking intently at anything out of the side window. Vasiliy was left to answer on their behalf. “You asked us what Grebnevo was?”
“Ah of course and General Borodin showed his ignorance on the subject!”
Vasiliy placed his hand for the third time in an hour and only the fourth time in their lives on the General’s arm in order to contain him.
“Grebnevo, my dear men, is far more than you imagine, far more than Russia can imagine and unfortunately, far more, than you, my dear Vasiliy, are cleared for!”
The car drew to a halt and the driver jumped out and opened the door to allow Vasiliy to exit.
Vasiliy did not move. He took orders from General Yuri Borodin and no one else.
“I assure you, the General will be in a far better mood when we return!” offered Surkov as an incentive to make Vasiliy move.
Borodin was struggling to contain himself and not snap the obsequious scientist’s scrawny neck but for all his anger, his curiosity at what he was about to discover was containing him.
“It’s fine Vasiliy, go have a coffee.”
“Give us two hours!” instructed Surkov as the door closed behind Vasiliy.
At least they had stopped in a small town center thought Vasiliy. A coffee shop awaited him across the street. As Vasiliy watched the car drive away, he walked across the road and entered the least welcoming coffee shop he had ever had the displeasure to visit.
There were not many closed cities left in Russia but those that were, were closed for good reason and outsiders were rarely welcomed with open arms. The small town of Grebnevo was no different.
As the car exited the small town, the countryside opened up before them. Borodin wondered exactly where they were going. Grebnevo was behind them and as far as he was aware, that was where they were supposed to be going. Just as he was about to ask that very question, the driver took a sharp turn and had them careering down a small track into the woods that lined the road as far as the eye could see.
Borodin watched with increasing interest as they drove past numerous checkpoints, all exceptionally well concealed and guarded by soldiers who, despite their remote locales, remained extremely vigilant. The most interesting point, however, was the uniform adorning the guards. They bore the insignia of the Kremlin Guard, the president’s personal security detail and most trusted of the military regiments. The no-fly zone began to make sense. “I see the President is here.” Borodin stated rather than asked.
“No,” replied Surkov crisply.
“But his guard?” offered Borodin as explanation for his statement.
“Ours also!” replied Surkov, offering no additional explanation.
Before he could ask any further questions, they began to slow down as large metal gates blocked the road ahead. As they slowly swung open, Borodin could see they were at least two meters thick. They were more like vault doors than gates. Whatever Grebnevo was, it was apparent the world wasn’t supposed to know about it. And whatever Borodin was expecting to see behind the gates, it wasn’t what met his gaze. One of the most stunning neo-classic churches he had ever seen stood before them. Towering above the forest around them and overlooking a beautiful lake, the church took his breath away.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” asked Surkov as he watched Borodin’s response to the view.
“Beautiful,” he said taking in every detail.
“Just wait until you see the house!”
With that, the driver pushed on the accelerator and they sped under the archway by the side of the church and covered the two kilometers of driveway to the main house.
Borodin looked at a building he had seen in ruin. Something that the house was definitely not. It reminded him of the American President’s White House, only bigger, far bigger.
“I thought this was a ruin?” he asked aghast at how perfect the building was.
“A little Photoshop trick!” laughed Surkov. “I believe if you google us you even see tourists in the photos.”
“Anyway, enough of the cover story, General Borodin, welcome to Grebnevo.”
Chapter 26
Luis pulled out a small notebook and a cell phone. “You give me the names and details and I’ll have your son back in thirty minutes!”
“I need to see James. Once he’s here, you’ll get what you want,” replied Sean with some force.
“Maybe in your world but not in mine. Details, then boy!” countered Luis making it clear there was no room for discussion.
Sean looked at Katie as he tried desperately to think of a way to stall Luis. The look of hope in her face just added to his dismay. He was royally screwed. Offering the leads had seemed the right thing to do at the time, not so much any more.
“Well!” prompted Luis, a slight irritation had crept back into his voice after his initial elation at the prospect of getting what his uncle so desperately wanted.
Sean looked back at Luis, desperately trying to think of something that would allow him to stall just a little longer.
“What the fuck?!” Luis jumped from his seat and rushed towards the TV screen that was mounted on the central wall of the living room and turned up the volume.
“…It’s like a war zone here!” shouted the reporter, gunfire and explosions drowned out the reporter’s words.
The picture jumped back to the newsroom.
“If you have just joined us, the war zone pictures you have just witnessed are not from Iraq or Afghanistan, they are in fact from just across the border, in Nuevo Laredo. Running battles in the streets have left scores dead and hundreds wounded as Los Zetas and the Gulf cartels battle for control. Concern continues to rise as the violence edges ever closer to the US border and Laredo…”
“Shit!” exclaimed Luis. “What the hell has he done?!”
It seemed Sean’s prayers had been answered. He had his reason to stall.
“Obviously, we will need to work something out. With the border closed, you can’t get our son back to us and I am not giving you anything before I get him back!” said Sean, taking advantage of the situation and playing hardball.
Luis ignored Sean as he watched the events unfold on the screen. His uncle had obviously decided to create so much devastation that nobody in their right mind would visit Nuevo Laredo. Luis had to hand it to him, he had set out to stop the meeting and that was in all likelihood exactly what his plan had achieved but at what cost?
“I need those names and details,” Luis finally said as the news moved on to another topic.
“Not without getting my son!” demanded Sean.
“Shoot her!” said Luis angrily, pointing to one of his men. Fortunately he had left his pistol on the sofa and was spared the embarrassment of being unable to pull the trigger himself.
Sean jumped from his seat and blocked the gunman’s view of the terrified Katie.
“I promise you’ll get nothing if you do that!”
As the other gunman positioned himself to take the shot Luis raised his hand to stop him. “Enough.” The red mist that had descended had receded and rational thought had returned. “Just give me the details and everybody will walk out of here alive and I promise you will get your son back.”
Katie’s tearful eyes pleaded with Sean to give the men what they wanted.
Sean wished he could. He was at an impasse. There was nothing he could do other than lie and he had a distinct feeling that was going to achieve the young boy’s death much quicker than the truth. Sean considered those thoughts as they went through his mind. The truth.
“I need to speak to you in private!” he said with some sincerity to Luis.
Luis considered the request and looked at the two bodies of his men that littered the house thanks to Sean.
Sean could see the indecision on Luis’ face and the thought of being left alone with a very experienced killer was not an inviting one.