A Red Dotted Line (Mike Walton Book 2) Page 12

  Five years ago, at the specific request of his uncle Veniamin Simonich, Victor was transferred to the Presidential Security Service. His family’s ties gave him unprecedented access to his uncle, and Victor was honored to serve his family and his country at the same time. When his uncle first talked to him about the project with which he had tasked Dr. Votyakov, Victor was stunned. He feared the American retaliations that were sure to come and said so to his uncle. Fear turned into horror when Veniamin Simonich told him he’d partnered with the Sheik in order to accomplish his objective. The plan was to place the blame of the whole operation on the Sheik’s network. His uncle would look like the champion who’d finally stopped the master terrorist and Russia would get away unscathed. Nevertheless, Victor had heard about the Sheik and the atrocities he’d waged across the globe. The man was an animal. How could Russia be associated with such a monster? Of course, he hadn’t voiced his concerns to his uncle. Family or not, there would have been dire consequences to disagreeing with the Russian president. Torn between his duty to his country and his conscience, Victor had decided to play it safe and to follow his uncle’s orders by ensuring the safety of Dr. Votyakov during her visits to Moscow. There had been no other options, no one he could talk to. Until today.

  Summoned to the Sheik’s office inside the Kremlin Grand Palace, he had learned that Dr. Galkin—Dr. Votyakov’s main associate—was a traitor. The fact that the Sheik had his own office inside a building such as the Kremlin Grand Palace sent shivers down Victor’s spine and he wondered who the traitor really was. The Sheik hadn’t divulged how he had found out about Dr. Galkin’s treason but he had told Victor to be careful around him. He was to bring him directly to an address the Sheik had written on a piece of paper. Victor had no doubt about what was to happen to poor Dr. Galkin. He just wished he wouldn’t have to watch. Victor had never felt so alone in his life. He was no scientist, but what he knew about Dr. Votyakov’s research was enough to bring fear and regret into any man’s heart. The new thread of Marburg virus Dr. Votyakov had created would make Ebola look like a mild fever. It would bring chaos and misery everywhere it went. How could his uncle approve of such a thing? How could he be so sure his own country wouldn’t be affected?

  Did they have a vaccine? Some sort of remedy? They had to. If not, it was madness. Was Dr. Galkin able to communicate the research data to anyone? To whom had he tried to pass information? Maybe there was a chance after all.

  Victor was thinking about his options when the tourist he had seen enter the bathroom two minutes ago came out asking for help. The man looked confused and about to lose it. He had indeed seen an older gentleman enter the bathroom right after the panicked tourist. Dr. Votyakov had been in the ladies’ room for less than four minutes. If she came out and he wasn’t there, she’d think he was probably relieving himself and she’d wait for him.

  Victor made his decision and followed the man inside the men’s room.

  ........

  Mike Walton figured that if the bodyguard didn’t enter within the next ten seconds, he’d have to go to plan B. Problem was, there was no plan B as yet. But he should not have worried because he heard the first door open. Visualizing what was about to happen, Mike held his breath as he waited for the bodyguard to open the second door. As soon as he did, Mike grabbed the taller man by his tie in an attempt to rush him in and to shoot him inside the bathroom. He jerked on the man’s tie as hard as he could but the tie stayed in his hand and, for the briefest moment, the two men locked eyes. Having lost his balance, and with the clip-on tie in his left hand, Mike found himself at a disadvantage when the bodyguard chopped his wrist with the outside of his left hand. The blow was so powerful Mike felt as if he had touched an electric fence. The pistol flew out of his hand at the same moment the giant bodyguard’s right hand shut up in an uppercut that knocked him out of his socks and two feet back. He almost passed out right there, but a little voice in his head told him he was about to die if he didn’t get back in the fight. The bodyguard reached for the pistol and Mike saw no option but to rush him.

  ........

  Victor knew he was fighting for his life the moment his opponent hadn’t gone down with his last punch. Tough sonofabitch. The uppercut had connected perfectly with the man’s chin. He had dispatched more than one opponent with a less lethal blow. Still, the man had stepped back and it allowed Victor half a second to take in his surroundings as he fumbled for his gun. A middle-aged man lay dead or unconscious next to the urinals. Another one, dressed in a janitor’s uniform, had his brain splattered on the wall. Victor recognized him as one of the Sheik’s men.

  Who the hell is this guy? Was he here to collect Dr. Galkin? In that case . . . But he couldn’t finish his thought. The man rushed him like a bull. Victor stopped trying to unholster his firearm and grabbed the charging man by the shoulders while pivoting one hundred and eighty degrees on his left foot. Victor’s blunt force added to the man’s momentum helped him throw his opponent against the wall. The man grunted as his back slammed violently against the hand dryer. But that didn’t stop him. It seemed to have the opposite effect.

  ........

  Mike was literally seeing stars. His eyes had become unfocused and the pain in his back was excruciating. He didn’t know what he had hit but it had taken his breath away. His body was about to shut down and he knew it. His only chance was to go on the offensive and that’s what he did. He had no idea if any of his punches caused any real damage but he kept pushing forward, battering the bodyguard with a steady barrage of combinations to the head and body.

  ........

  Victor couldn’t block them all. The attacks were coming so rapidly that he had to step back. He needed some distance in order to draw his weapon and finish this. But he didn’t dare drop his guard, aware that a lucky punch could ultimately lead to his death. Just when he expected another barrage of punches to the head, his opponent kicked him in the groin. He involuntarily bent forward and didn’t see the man’s knee before it was too late. His head snapped back and his foot hit something. He tumbled backwards.

  ........

  Mike saw the bodyguard fall on his back as his foot hit one of the dead man’s legs. Mike looked for his gun but couldn’t immediately locate it. What he did find was the bodyguard’s clip-on tie. In three strides, he had picked up the tie and positioned himself behind the fallen bodyguard. He wrapped the tie around the other man’s neck and started to pull, using all of his remaining strength.

  ........

  Victor figured he must have lost consciousness because he suddenly realized he was on his back with someone under him. Then he felt something soft slide around his neck.

  My tie!

  He just had time to slip two fingers of his right hand between the tie and his neck before the man started to choke him. He tried to elbow and head butt his way out, but the man knew what he was doing and kept himself glued to him, leaving Victor with no room to maneuver. Victor tried to grab something, his left hand seeking anything he could use as a weapon. Nothing. The only thing his fingers touched were the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Darkness was closing in, his vision already blurred by the lack of oxygen reaching his brain. He had mere seconds to get out of this but didn’t know what to do. Then he did. He had one last card to play.

  ........

  Mike held the choke and knew he had him. But at what cost? This was supposed to be a five-second takedown but it had lasted over thirty. Where was Dr. Votyakov? Was she still in the restroom? What if she was gone? No, she wouldn’t be. She’d wait for her bodyguard.

  A sound escaped from the bodyguard’s lips. The man was trying to say something. Mike didn’t care. He just had to hold on for a few more seconds. But the Russian did something Mike didn’t expect. He removed the two fingers he’d been able to squeeze in between his neck and the tie and reached for his right pocket. That was a dumb move as it allowed Mike to tighten his hold even
more. Mike half expected to see a knife appear, but a folded piece of paper came out instead. Then the Russian went limp and the piece of paper fell to the floor. Mike had a decision to make. If he held the choke for another twenty seconds, it would kill the man. If he let go now, the man would regain consciousness within seconds. Why in hell did he let go of the tie?

  Shit!

  Mike used the tie to quickly secure the bodyguard’s hands behind his back. He then relieved him of his pistol and picked up the one he had dropped on the floor. He was about to snatch the piece of paper off the floor when the bodyguard said in heavily accented but grammatically perfect English, “It’s the address where we’re supposed to take Dr. Galkin. That’s why you’re here, yes? For Galkin?”

  Mike aimed a pistol at the man’s head but only got a smile in return.

  “You use this in here, you’ll never get out of here alive.”

  “You’re right,” Mike said, switching to the PB silent pistol. “Why?”

  “My name is Victor Simonich. I’m with the FSB. I’m with the Presidential Security Service and my uncle Veniamin Simonich is the Russian president.”

  “I couldn’t care less who your uncle is, shithead.”

  “We know Dr. Galkin is a traitor. I think we’re bringing him here to be interrogated by the Sheik.”

  Mike was taken aback. The Sheik? Here in Moscow? And if the Russians knew Dr. Galkin had betrayed them, that meant they knew someone would try to get to his wife. Lisa! He had to warn her. She was probably walking into a trap.

  “Don’t look so surprised. The man you killed is one of his men,” Victor said, pointing to the dead man on the floor with his chin. But Mike was barely listening. His mind was spinning at one hundred miles an hour.

  So the Russians knew Dr. Galkin had tried to communicate with someone outside Russia. If the Sheik was working for the Russian government, he had to inform the IMSI immediately.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I’m a patriot. I love my country. But what my uncle and the Sheik have in mind is madness. It will bring chaos and mayhem to our two countries.”

  God damn it! This was bigger than everyone had originally thought. “What are you proposing?”

  “Let me go, and bring your team to the address written on the paper.”

  When Mike didn’t reply right away, Victor continued, “What are you gonna do? Kill me? Kill Dr. Votyavov? Kill Galkin?”

  “I could.”

  “Yeah, but you won’t. You’ll never know what the Sheik’s plan is if you do.”

  Mike kneeled next to the Russian and dug the pistol into the man’s neck. “Then tell me,” he hissed.

  “There’s no need for that,” Victor said. “I’m not afraid to die. Believe it or not, we want the same thing.”

  “And what is it that I want?”

  “To stop a dangerous new pathogen from reaching your country, and maybe, just maybe, to catch the Sheik. But to do this, you need to let me go. Now. I’ve been here too long.”

  This is insane. Am I actually considering this? The Russian was right. He could still pursue his original plan, but to what end? If the Sheik was involved, it was an entirely new ball game. Dr. Galkin could only provide so much. He was most certainly not aware of the whole plan. What do I have to lose except my life?

  “All right,” Mike said. “Slowly get up and turn around. I’ll untie you.”

  “Already done,” Victor said. He slowly moved his arms from behind his back and showed Mike the tie before clipping it back on. “Just a small gesture to let you know that for now, we’re on the same side. I need my gun back.”

  “Turn around,” Mike said. “Now.”

  Once the Russian had his back to him, Mike ejected the magazine and cleared the pistol. Twenty seconds later, he had removed the firing pin and reassembled the gun.

  “Here you go,” he said. He tossed the pistol and the magazine back to the Russian once they were face to face again.

  “I know you’ve removed my firing pin,” Victor said, holstering his pistol. “I want it back.”

  Mike threw it on the ground as he positioned himself to cover the Russian with his own pistol. “Pick it up,” he said.

  Victor looked at him and shook his head but nevertheless picked his firing pin off the floor and put it in his coat pocket. The Russian spent ten seconds in front of the mirror trying to freshen up. He said to Mike, “Lock the door behind you.” Then he left without another word.

  CHAPTER 33

  Moscow, Russia

  Dr. Lidiya Votyakov needed another cigarette. Her makeup was a mess and she didn’t have anything to fix it with. The loss of her son had shaken her to the bone. Qasim had promised he’d make the people responsible for her son’s death pay. She’d do her part. Even if it cost her soul. She stormed out of the restroom determined to bring misery to her son’s assassins.

  Where was Victor? It wasn’t like him to abandon his post. Did he go back to the car? She was about to walk back to the car herself when she saw him leaving the men’s room. He looked ruffled and held a bloodied handkerchief under his nose.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Entered the restroom at the same time someone tried to come out. I walked right into the open door. My mistake.”

  “Your nose is bleeding.”

  “I’ll be fine. We should go back to the car, Dr. Votyakov,” her bodyguard said. “Dr. Galkin’s flight won’t be here for another twenty minutes.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right, Victor?” she asked. She’d never seen him like this.

  “Of course I am. Shall we?” Victor replied, gesturing toward the outside of the terminal.

  Walking back toward the car, her mind slipped back to her mission. Producing the new Marburg thread in sufficient quantity wouldn’t be a problem. She had everything she needed but she worried about the timeframe. The virus was fragile and couldn’t be mass-produced rapidly. Dr. Galkin knew as much as she did about the virus and she planned on spending the night brainstorming about their options with him.

  Once outside, she dug into her pocket for the pack of cigarettes she knew was there. She offered one to Victor but he waved her off. A flick from her lighter followed by a long drag sent the smoke into her lungs. It felt so good.

  ........

  Mike Walton waited two minutes before making his exit. He used the set of keys he had found on the Sheik’s enforcer to lock the bathroom door behind him. It would buy him enough time to leave the airport. He called James Cooper and asked him to pick him up at the arrivals. Mike climbed into the passenger seat two minutes later.

  “Where to?” Cooper asked.

  “Just drive, James. I need to think.”

  Thinking wasn’t the only thing he needed to do right now. He had to contact the IMSI to advise them of what had just happened inside the terminal. He also needed to find a way to reach Lisa, and to warn her about the trap she was probably walking into.

  Mike looked down at his secured smartphone. The screen was cracked. “Look at this, James,” he said, showing his phone to Cooper. “Should I be worried?”

  Cooper took his eyes off the road and examined Mike’s phone. “I won’t know for sure until I test it. I have all the equipment in Support Two’s van. I wouldn’t make a secure call before then if I were you.”

  That was a problem. IMSI assets like Mike depended on their secure smartphone to communicate in the field. Their wireless earbuds and mics wouldn’t work without it. If the security of their smartphone was compromised, so was the Bluetooth interaction between the different components.

  “How can I reach IMSI headquarters?” Mike asked.

  “You can use mine,” offered Cooper. “But it doesn’t have the same level of encryption as yours.”

  “How long before the conversation is picked up by the Russians?”<
br />
  “I wouldn’t talk for more than ninety seconds or so with this phone.”

  “They’re that good?” Mike hadn’t expected the Russians to be so switched on.

  “We don’t really know how good they are, I’m afraid,” Cooper replied. “What we know is that since March 2015, and with the implementation of SORM-3, their capabilities have grown exponentially.”

  Mike was no expert in these sorts of things but he trusted Cooper. He unplugged Cooper’s phone from its USB cable and was about to dial the IMSI’s number when Cooper had an idea.

  “Support Two has a local number. Use them to connect you through to the IMSI. Their encryption level is higher than my phone and the Russian government doesn’t keep track of as many local calls as they do international ones. It should give you an extra minute of talk time.”

  When the phone finally rang at IMSI headquarters, Anna Caprini answered.

  “Can you put either Jonathan or Charles on the line?”

  “I’ll have both in a moment,” Caprini replied. Mike started the timer of his Tag Heuer. Fifteen seconds later, Jonathan Sanchez and Charles Mapother were on the other end. Mike explained to them what had happened at the airport.

  “Holy shit,” Sanchez said. “What do you want to do?”

  “Do I have any choice?” Mike said. “I need to get to this address. In the meantime, I need you to find everything you can on Victor Simonich.”

  “We will,” Sanchez confirmed.

  “What about Lisa?” Mike asked. “Where is she?”

  Charles Mapother replied to this one. “She boarded her flight to Koltsovo two hours ago. She’ll be landing soon.”

  “You need to pull her out of there,” Mike said, picturing his wife by herself against a bunch of Russian federal agents. “She won’t last long if this is indeed a trap.”