Jet (25 page)

“Let’s hope you’re right.” Jet hesitated. “And once we’re across? What do we do from there?”

“We find the nearest village and I make a call. From that point everything should go smoothly.”

“Your ‘contact’? The one who’s been useless so far?”

“No. I’ll call my base. We’re not that far. They can arrange a pickup. Even with the pockets of insurgents in this area, during the day the government troops control the roads, so we’ll be fine.”

They listened for signs of life and, when they were satisfied there were no patrols nearby, set off across the field, staying low as they jogged toward the barbed wire. They were nearly to the fence when Yulia stopped in her tracks and called to Jet in a stage whisper.

“I hear dogs.”

Jet listened and shook her head. “You’re imagining it.”

Yulia’s brow beetled and her eyes roved over the tree line. “No, I’m not.”

Jet continued forward until she was at the coiled wire. “You said there were gaps?”

“There should be. Depends on the area.”

They were moving east when a bark rang out from the other side of the clearing. Both women spun just in time to see four Russian soldiers with a German shepherd straining in its harness. The men were pointing across the field at them. Jet pulled Yulia down into the grass. “Crawl,” she whispered. “They can’t shoot what they can’t see.”

“But the dog…”

“You still have the cop’s pistol. If they turn the dog loose, use it.”

Jet crawled along on her stomach as the voices behind them increased in volume, and then they were at another grove of trees. The barbed wire barrier abruptly ended in a gap between two trunks. Jet dragged Yulia to her feet and through the opening. The soldiers sounded like they were closing in, and Jet had no faith that they would observe the niceties of international borders in an area that was a free-fire zone.

They ran toward the Ukrainian forest and the dog barked behind them again – this time, not far away. Jet urged Yulia forward when the woman faltered, her ankle obviously still impeding her.

Shots rang out – a short burst. Bullets hissed through the forest around them but thumped harmlessly into the trunks of the silver fir trees as they ran. Jet grabbed Yulia and pulled her behind a rock outcropping. “Give me the gun,” Jet said, holding out her hand.

Yulia handed it over without a word.

“How many rounds left?” Jet asked.

“Only three. One in the hole, two in the mag.”

“That’s not going to do us much good.”

“I know.” She looked around the rock and then jerked her head back. “I’m surprised they shot at us. Normally I don’t think they would.”

“Too late now. How far are they?”

“Maybe thirty meters.”

“Damn.”

A male voice rang out from in front of them and they both flinched reflexively. The words were in Russian.

“You’re on Ukrainian soil. You have no right to cross the border. Return to your side or you’ll be fired upon.”

Yulia cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled to the speaker, “We’re Ukrainian. The Russians are chasing us. They’re right behind us.”

The man spoke again. “I was addressing the Russian patrol, not you.” He stepped into view, in full battle dress, the insignia of a Ukrainian army captain on his helmet. “Russians: you’ll be cut down without any further warning if you don’t return to your side immediately. There are twenty guns on you. You have no chance.”

“We are in pursuit of two escaped prisoners involved in the deaths of four policemen,” one of the Russians called back.

“You are on Ukrainian soil. Leave, or die,” the captain said. “No more discussion.”

A tense silence met the captain’s final words, and then the barking of the dog diminished as the border patrol returned to Russia, their lives not worth forfeiting in a pointless clash. The captain watched them go and then turned to Yulia and Jet.

“Toss the gun where I can see it. I’m taking you into custody. If what the Russians say is true, they have the right to apply for extradition.”

“Before you do, I’d advise you to call a phone number and speak to my commanding officer,” Yulia said, steel in her voice. Jet tossed the pistol aside and raised her hands so no itchy trigger fingers made a mistake that would end her life.

“Your commanding officer?” the captain repeated, surprised.

“That’s right. You might know him. Colonel Vyhovsky.”

The captain’s face changed at the mention of the name, and he nodded slowly. “I have a field radio. I’ll have them patch through a call. In the meantime, let’s get out of here just in case the Russians decide to prove a point with one of their helicopters.”

Kharkiv, Ukraine

A gray sedan stopped at the gate of a compound on the outskirts of Kharkiv, and an armed guard in jeans and a windbreaker approached the driver’s side window from the gatehouse. The driver explained the purpose of the trip, and the guard walked over to his shack and spoke into his radio. A minute later, he returned and raised the barrier.

“Over there by the long building will be fine,” Yulia said to the driver, indicating the closest structure with a wave of her hand from the passenger seat. The car coasted to a halt, and Yulia turned to Jet on the rear bench seat. “End of the line.”

Jet nodded and stepped from the back onto hard-packed dirt, the late-afternoon sun warming her skin. She took in her surroundings without comment, noting that the gathering of structures didn’t look anything like the bases she had spent time on. There were only a few people in evidence, all clad in civilian clothing. There were no military vehicles, no soldiers, no markings to identify the buildings. To her eye it could have been any industrial complex in any of thousands of business parks around the globe.

“You sure we’re in the right place?” Jet asked.

Yulia laughed. “Absolutely. But we don’t stand on a lot of formality in this division. We’re the equivalent of military intelligence, so we keep a low profile.”

“Intelligence?”

“That’s right. It’s the reason that we were so desperate to get out of jail. It was only a matter of time before even the Russians figured this one out. They thought we were some kind of paramilitary pro-government support group, but that would have only held up for so long. Eventually someone with a brain would have shown up asking tough questions, and I couldn’t trust that my men wouldn’t crack.”

“Well, it worked. At least the getting us out part. Not so much on the rest of it.”

“That was out of our hands. A different organization with more reach in Russia. Our influence largely ends at the border. Theirs…is more global.”

“So, not Ukrainian.”

“No.”

“Why would they help you?”

“There are a lot of interests that would like to see the post-coup, anti-Russian government succeed. Their enemy happens to be our enemy.” She shrugged. “One hand washes the other, isn’t that the expression?”

“Something like that. But your mission was a failure, wasn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, it was. Four good men lost for nothing.”

“So now what do you do?”

“What we have always done. We move forward.”

Yulia pushed a door open and showed Jet to a small room with a bed and attached bathroom. “It’s not much, but it’s better than prison.”

“You don’t have to do this. I can find my own way.”

“You’re in my backyard. I insist.”

Jet fixed Yulia with a neutral stare. “I’m fine. All I need is a little money and some papers, and I can move on. You’re back on home turf. It’s a win all around.”

Yulia didn’t break eye contact. “What do you do from here?”

“Go on with my life.”

“Do you have anything to go back to?”

Jet didn’t have to think about her response. The less information others had, the better. “Not really. It’s not important.”

Yulia smiled. “I’m very impressed with you, Sandra. I was the first time I saw you in action. I could use someone with your skills, your courage. It would be lucrative. You could name your price, within reason.”

“To do what?”

“Help us achieve our goals. The first of which is a free Ukraine. The Russians will never truly allow us to be free until the West forces them to. And I’m not sure that it’s important enough to the West to do whatever is required. Meanwhile, my country is being torn apart.”

“So how do you solve that?”

Yulia looked away. “There are ways to make the world care.” She paused for a moment and then tried again. “Consider staying with us, at least for a while. If you have nowhere to go, this could be a new beginning. You can start over as whomever you like. No past. No baggage. Think about it. Germany will be too hot for you now that the Russians have you in their system – they share information, even though on the surface they’re adversarial.” Yulia studied Jet’s unreadable expression. “You’re used to being paid to do what you’re good at. We would pay a lot.”

“I’ll need a passport and money. And the ability to leave whenever I decide to.”

“Not a problem.”

“How can I be certain? Your contact promised a lot and failed to deliver at every turn.”

Yulia nodded. “Come with me.”

They walked to another building, where a man was seated at a brightly lit worktable, focused on something before him. He glanced up as they entered and relaxed when he saw Yulia. She approached him and introduced Jet.

“Anton, this is Sandra. How long would it take to create a package for her?”

Anton studied Jet for a moment, considering. “I have an Italian and a Bulgarian I could modify. We just got them in. But I can’t do anything for a few days.” Anton surveyed the shelves in front of him and withdrew two passports. He opened the first and looked at Jet, put it back, and then opened the second. He compared Jet with the photograph and nodded. “I’d want to take a photo and replace this one, but on the surface, the description’s about right. Thirty years old, female. Even looks a little like her.” He held the Bulgarian passport up for Jet and Yulia to see. The woman staring back at them was slim enough, with dark hair with blunt-cut bangs, though she lacked Jet’s exotic features. Still, as Anton had said, similar.

“Are they stolen?” Jet asked.

“The Italian one is. The Bulgarian was purchased from the owner. She needed money and isn’t planning on traveling any time soon.”

“Well?” Yulia asked expectantly.

“I need time to think it over.”

“Take all the time you want.”

They emerged from the building and nearly ran headlong into two men carrying a pair of shoulder-fired missiles with Russian markings into the room next door.

“Oh, sorry,” one of them said.

“We just get those in?” Yulia asked.

“As you ordered.”

“Good.” Yulia addressed Jet again. “So what would it take to tip the scales in our favor?”

“What happens if I respectfully decline?”

Yulia’s expression remained impassive, but Jet could read the tension in the corners of her eyes. “Nothing. We helped each other get what we wanted. You’re free to go; although my job is to convince you that would be a mistake. For one thing, the Russians have been rattling their sabers all day, demanding my government turn over the two escaped prisoners who crossed into Ukraine.”

“The Russian patrol?”

“Yes. They didn’t like being stymied by a bunch of peasants.”

“What did the government tell them?”

“It denied knowing anything about it. Obviously we’re not cooperating, and it’s the word of the patrol, which could have mistaken a pair of innocent refugees for the prisoners, against the word of the government.” Yulia grinned. “Which has promised a thorough investigation that will never happen. We have other priorities.”

Jet looked off at the wall that ringed the compound and held a hand to her stomach. “I just realized we haven’t eaten since yesterday. I’m famished.”

“Well, let’s get that taken care of, and then we can talk price for your services. I’ll need to know more about your background to get you the best deal.”

Jet nodded. She’d play along, invent a career in the German military before going professional. But she wasn’t fooled by Yulia’s act. If Jet said no to the offer, her reward would likely be a bullet. She’d already seen too much, and she knew how things worked. From Yulia’s perspective, if she wasn’t on Yulia’s side, she was an enemy.

And Jet was only on her own side.

Which meant her stay couldn’t end well.

An orange moon glowed low in the sky as the door to the sleeping quarters inched open. Jet had been pretending to sleep for five hours, and now, at two in the morning, was ready to make her move. Yulia was sleeping only a few feet from the door in another of the small bedroom units, and Jet had taken care to creep on stockinged feet to avoid making any noise, her running shoes in her hand. She looked through the opening and watched for anyone moving, but after two long minutes, didn’t see anyone. She knew the guard was on duty at the drive, but she wasn’t planning on leaving that way, so his presence didn’t give her pause.

With a final look over her shoulder, she stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her. In the shadows, she slipped on her shoes while she checked warily around the compound, and then moved off the porch area and onto the path leading to the other buildings. She darted from shadow to shadow, the new clothes Yulia had given her dark enough for her to blend with the gloom, and stopped at the doorway of Anton’s work area to try the knob.

It was locked, but she’d come prepared with two hairpins she’d carefully bent to create a pick and a shaft with which to turn the lock, and she went to work, brushing with one while exerting steady pressure with the other. The lock gave in no time, and she took a final look around the empty ground and then edged into the dark room.

Jet stood motionless and waited for her eyes to adjust, the only illumination that from the moon’s glow through the window, and then crossed the floor to the workbench. She had no problem locating the Bulgarian passport, even in the faint light, and slipped it together with five others into her back pocket, and then did a thorough search of the work area for anything else that might be of value to her. She moved quickly but methodically and, when she arrived at a locked bottom drawer, nodded to herself.