A Red Dotted Line (Mike Walton Book 2) Read online

  “We’ll take care of her, Mike,” Mapother said. “I promise.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Moscow, Russia

  Victor’s phone vibrated in his pocket. A quick look around satisfied him that there were no immediate threats to Dr. Votyakov. He placed his phone against his ear. It was the Sheik.

  “Change of plan, Victor,” the Sheik said. “You’re coming directly to me at the Grand Palace.”

  “What about the address you gave me?” Victor asked, thinking about the foreign agent he had fought with in the men’s room. Does he know? Despite the blistering cold, perspiration had formed on his forehead. Because if he does, even my uncle won’t be able to save my ass. But the Sheik’s reply somewhat reassured him he wasn’t a dead man yet.

  “I’ve lost contact with one of my men. Bring Dr. Galkin to me, Victor.”

  The Sheik ended the call before Victor could reply.

  “I’m freezing,” Dr. Votyakov said, standing next to him.

  “Why don’t you stay in the car, Doctor? There’s no need for you to waste your time inside the terminal. I’ll get Dr. Galkin.”

  “But you’ve never met him, Victor. How will you—”

  “I’m FSB, Dr. Votyakov. Trust me, I know what he looks like.”

  Dr. Votyakov nodded and climbed back into the Mercedes while Victor headed back inside the terminal. He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them up. Victor forced himself to focus on the problem. Once Dr. Galkin was in the Sheik’s hands, it would be all over. There was a way to keep Dr. Galkin out of the Sheik’s reach. But it would require him to take a step he wasn’t sure he was ready to take. It was a big risk, and he doubted it was worth the reward. But what was the alternative? If there was something he could do to save his country, didn’t he have to try? Even at the cost of his own life?

  ........

  Victor could see that Dr. Galkin was someone who liked to travel light. With the exception of a small, rolling carry-on bag, his only other luggage was a medium-sized leather bag he carried over his shoulder.

  “Dr. Galkin?” Victor asked, knowing that it was.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Victor. I’m with Dr. Votyakov,” he said as a way to introduce himself. “Please follow me.”

  He didn’t offer to carry Dr. Galkin’s bag. If the scientist was nervous, he concealed it well.

  “We have a long drive to Moscow, Doctor,” Victor said. “I suggest we stop by the restroom.”

  “Yes, of course,” Dr. Galkin replied. “I was thinking that myself.”

  They were still fifty meters away from the restroom when Victor saw a middle-aged man coming out. Even at that distance, Victor could see that the man’s head was bleeding badly. The man lost his balance and staggered to his left before he decided to sit on the floor. Luckily, most passengers had checked-in luggage so there weren’t that many people from Galkin’s flight walking with them. Still, some passengers had seen the distressed man and were now approaching him.

  “Follow me, Dr. Galkin,” Victor said, jogging toward the man. “This gentleman needs your assistance.”

  The foreign agent had locked the door as he had asked him to, but he had forgotten about the unconscious man, which actually helped Victor’s plan. A couple of passengers were already kneeling next to the injured man. Victor flashed his FSB badge and asked the people to leave. One woman hesitated and offered to stay but Victor told her that if she did, she’d have to give a deposition at the FSB headquarters in downtown Moscow. She left promptly.

  Victor helped the man to his feet. “Follow me, sir,” he said.

  “There’s a dead man inside the restroom,” the man said, clearly distraught.

  “Show us,” Victor said, looking back to make sure Dr. Galkin was still with him. He gestured Galkin to follow the man in. Once both men were in front of him, Victor took a second to lock the door behind him. When he turned back, Dr. Galkin was looking at him, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

  “We don’t want anyone to panic,” Victor explained, gently pushing Galkin forward. The moment they entered the restroom, Victor shoved Galkin to the side and took three strides toward the injured man. Victor knocked him out with a powerful left hook to the chin. The man crumbled to the floor right next to the Sheik’s man.

  “What are you doing?” Dr. Galkin yelled, his eyes set on the exit door.

  Victor pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Dr. Galkin’s chest, though it couldn’t fire as it was still missing its firing pin.

  To his credit, Dr. Galkin didn’t panic. “What do you want?”

  Victor had only one shot at this, and he knew it. This was the point of no return.

  “I’m sorry about this, Dr. Galkin. I really am,” Victor started, locking eyes with Galkin and looking for any signs of deceit. “Did you know that Dr. Votyakov’s working with the Sheik?”

  Dr. Galkin’s reaction wasn’t immediate and Victor wondered if the scientist was about to try to bluff his way out of this. He hoped he didn’t, because they had very little time before his partner called him to inquire about what they were doing.

  “So you know about me?”

  “Yes, I do. And so does the Sheik.”

  “What will you do about it, Victor?”

  “I’m supposed to take you to the Sheik at the Grand Palace where you’ll be—”

  “The Sheik has an office at the Kremlin Grand Palace?” Dr. Galkin interrupted. “I can’t believe we’ve sunk so low as to work with a piece of shit like him.”

  “Neither can I, Doctor.”

  Dr. Galkin looked at him, his confusion evident. “If you aren’t with him, young man, whose side are you on?”

  “I’m on Russia’s side, Dr. Galkin. And always will be.”

  Dr. Galkin sighed. “So am I. Where does that leave us?”

  “I need to know everything there is to know about the virus. More precisely, I need to know—”

  “May I?” Dr. Galkin asked, pointing to the leather bag he was still carrying.

  Victor nodded. Galkin unfastened his bag and laid it on the floor to look through its contents. He showed a blue flash drive to Victor. “On this you’ll find everything you need to know about the virus. Very few people are privy to this information. I was hoping to give it to an American operative but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

  “Who did you contact in the United States?” Victor asked.

  Dr. Galkin pondered if he should answer the question or not. “I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. I’m already dead, am I not, Victor?”

  Victor didn’t lie. He nodded sadly. “It’s your only way out, Doctor.”

  Dr. Galkin seemed to accept his fate in stride. “I contacted someone at the FBI named Charles Mapother. I didn’t hear from him, but I’ve always known him to be quite resourceful. If he got my message, he’ll find a way to help us.”

  “He already did. He killed this man,” Victor said, pointing his gun toward the Sheik’s soldier. “He was working for the Sheik.”

  “Mapother didn’t do this,” Dr. Galkin said. “He’s only a few years younger than me.”

  “Then he sent someone.”

  “Listen to me carefully, Victor,” Dr. Galkin said, his voice cracking. “A week ago, we didn’t know we had the right thread. All this is still very new. If you destroy our Koltsovo complex, you’ll destroy everything we have. Do you understand?”

  “I do. Anything else?”

  “Do what you must,” Dr. Galkin said, clearly resigned to his fate.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor.”

  “You’ve said that already. Go on.” A single tear rolled down on his cheek. “I’m ready.”

  “You’ll have to give me a moment,” Victor said, feeling terrible. Damn firing pin!

  “Just do it, for God’s sake.”

&n
bsp; Victor fumbled with his firing pin and dropped it to the floor. He didn’t dare look at the poor doctor who was patiently awaiting his execution. Victor was tempted to apologize again but didn’t. He had just slammed his magazine back into his pistol when he sensed movement. When he looked up, Dr. Galkin seemed to be charging him, but rushed right past him and into the injured middle-aged man. Victor looked at both men as they fell to the ground with Dr. Galkin on top. What the hell? Victor racked the action and shot the middle-aged man right in the middle of his forehead. He kneeled down next to Dr. Galkin and rolled him over. A combat knife was protruding from his chest, and blood was already pouring out of Galkin’s mouth. His left hand grabbed Victor’s bicep.

  “You . . . you need to stop this . . . this madness . . . my friend,” Dr. Galkin said before his eyes rolled over.

  Victor looked at the scene and knew he could turn all of this to his advantage. It seemed obvious that the poor middle-aged man had had enough and had perceived them as a threat. He had most probably taken the knife away from the Sheik’s man. I can’t really blame him. I’m the one who attacked him first after all . . .

  It was time to play now and Victor called his partner. His colleague hadn’t said hello before Victor started yelling, “We’re under attack, exfil, exfil, exfil.” Protocol dictated that the driver take the main charge to the closest secure location and Victor could imagine his partner taking off at full speed with the Mercedes.

  Victor assumed that the shot he had fired had been heard and that the police were already on their way. He hurried out of the restroom and showed his FSB badge to the curious who had gathered outside. Victor couldn’t believe they hadn’t heard the shot. Then what are they doing standing there with their phones? It didn’t make any sense to him. People were sometimes so stupid. And I’m risking everything to save them? Maybe I’m the stupid one.

  CHAPTER 35

  Moscow, Russia

  Mike Walton asked Cooper to let him out five blocks away from the address Victor had given him.

  “Are you sure, boss?” Cooper asked.

  “Drop me here and go back to Support Two to get the equipment I need.”

  The sky was overcast and the streetlights weren’t doing a good job at keeping the streets lit. Mike wasn’t familiar with this neighborhood and wished he had his smartphone with him. With all the applications the IMSI had downloaded onto it, he would have learned everything he needed to know about this shitty place in a matter of minutes. The only thing he knew was that the address was located inside the Solntsevo District in northwest Moscow. And by the look of it, it wasn’t the nicest or the safest place to be. But it was so cold that nobody dared venture outside if they didn’t really have to. Tall apartment buildings with large exterior parking lots filled with rusted old cars seemed to be the norm.

  Mike had asked James Cooper to drive past the address once before dropping him further down the street. The address was another tall apartment building located on a street corner. The piece of paper hadn’t specified an apartment number and Mike couldn’t find a place to keep an eye on the building. Staying by himself outside in the cold would become dangerous in a matter of minutes, and even though he couldn’t see them, Mike was convinced people were already looking at him from the windows of their apartments. In this type of neighborhood, people didn’t call the police when they became suspicious of someone. They trusted the criminals to take care of anyone not belonging.

  Mike estimated that Cooper would be back within fifteen minutes with the equipment he had requested—a heat-sensing, thermal-imaging camera and a night-vision monocular. In the meantime, he’d try to keep himself from freezing to death by walking around the block one more time.

  ........

  Victor didn’t wait for the police to arrive. His window of opportunity was closing rapidly and he had to act fast. He hurried down to the taxi stand and waited what seemed like a small eternity for one to finally show up.

  “Where to?” the tired driver asked once Victor was in the backseat.

  Victor gave him the address and was told they were three quarters of an hour away.

  He would have given a year’s salary in exchange for a bottle of vodka. Victor was puzzled by his own actions. Who was he to question the will of the Russian president? My own goddamn uncle! But it was too late to do anything but to listen to his conscience. And if he was being honest with himself, he knew the path he had chosen was the right one. Dr. Galkin had been a patriot too, and Victor wouldn’t let the man’s sacrifice be in vain. The question was: would Mapother’s man show up?

  His phone rang. He looked at its screen to see who the caller was. He didn’t recognize the number. What to do? With Dr. Votyakov secured and already gone from the terminal, protocol dictated he should have stayed at the terminal until the arrival of the police. Whoever was on the other end of the call would know he had no good reason to leave the scene, especially with the bloodbath he had left behind. Victor turned off his phone and removed the battery and the SIM card before throwing it out of the window. He was now officially a rogue agent, wanted by his own government.

  CHAPTER 36

  Moscow, Russia

  The Sheik dialed the number again. It went directly to Victor’s voicemail. What’s going on? Victor hadn’t checked in yet and it worried him. He knew Lidiya was safe and on her way to join him at the Grand Palace, but what about Dr. Galkin? And what about the man he had placed at the terminal? Things weren’t looking up, and he hated being in the dark. He needed Dr. Galkin alive to know if he had any accomplices inside the Koltsovo facilities. It was at times like these that he really missed his former associate Omar Al-Nashwan. In anger, the Sheik threw his phone against the wall. Two armed men belonging to the Presidential Security Services entered his office to see what the commotion was about. The Sheik chastised them with his eyes and they left without a word.

  The Sheik wasn’t duped. Even though the Russian agents were tasked with his protection, he was aware that as soon as Veniamin Simonich thought he’d become more of a liability than an asset, their roles would change drastically. The Russian president’s assurances of a beautiful dacha on the Black Sea didn’t mean much, especially if the Sheik failed to deliver what he had promised. Following his failure to bring the United States’ economy to its knees by attacking its strategic oil resources less than a year ago, another flop would discredit him for life. He needed a win to reclaim his rightful place at the top of the food chain. And the first step toward this victory was to talk to Dr. Galkin to assess the damage, if any, he had done.

  But first, he needed to find out why he wasn’t able to reach Victor. He walked out of his office and told the two agents posted outside his door where he was headed. One of them remained behind while the other escorted him. In order to keep the Sheik’s mission a secret, Veniamin Simonich had authorized the creation of a small team of Russian intelligence officers, working together with his men inside the walls of the Kremlin Grand Palace. Access to the Russians’ intel was a blessing. Following the raid on his mobile headquarters by Charles Mapother’s men, the Sheik had lost a good part of his once massive yet efficient intelligence gathering apparatus. Weeks after the raid, some of his most senior operatives had started to disappear. Even smaller-scale operations were being undone before they had started. In order to stop the hemorrhage, the Sheik had cut his ties with Mouin Bashi, one of his most trusted lieutenants and the man in charge of his intelligence network. Truth is, he had abandoned him to the wolves that had been chasing him. His capture had allowed the Sheik to escape to Russia. Bashi’s body was later found in a safe house in Zagreb. The Sheik was convinced it was Mapother’s men who were once again the culprits. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Ray Powell. He’d get him to talk or he’d use him as bait to draw in Mapother’s team. One way or the other, the ambassador would die, and he’d make sure it would be a painful death.

  The office Veniam
in Simonich had assigned his team was on the third floor of the building. It was a medium-sized room with no windows that had been fitted with all the latest technology available inside Russia. Only one door led in or out of the room and two more agents from the Presidential Security Services protected it. One of them opened the door to let him through.

  “I need someone to tell me where is Victor Simonich,” he said.

  There were only two people working the night shift and they both turned to face the Sheik. They were both Russians, which meant his men had been sent home to their apartments outside the Kremlin. One of the Russians was an attractive female with short blond hair and deep blue eyes. She was the first to speak.

  “What’s his number?”

  The Sheik gave it to her. “How long?” he asked.

  “Not long.”

  The Sheik placed his hands on her shoulder. He squeezed gently and she shivered at his touch. She didn’t do that out of pleasure but out of fear, and the Sheik loved it. His reputation was alive and well.

  “I can’t seem to find him, Sheik Al-Assad,” she said.

  He squeezed again, this time harder. He felt her stiffen. “Find him. Then call my team.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Moscow, Russia

  Mike Walton walked to the rendezvous point and spotted the Toyota Camry parked across the street. Hands in pockets, chin tucked in, he jogged to the vehicle and opened the door. The cold had bitten through his shoes and he couldn’t feel his toes anymore. The same went for his hands. The light gloves he’d been wearing weren’t enough to keep his fingers warm.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had shivered out of control like this. His teeth were chattering and his ears were beyond frozen.

  “I’ve got everything you’ve asked for,” James Cooper said.

  Mike nodded, his jaw refusing to move. Cooper turned the heater to the maximum. They spent the next four minutes in silence as Mike tried not to scream as his limbs started to thaw. He’d swear the tips of his fingers were on fire and that his socks were filled with needles and broken glass. His mind suddenly flashed back to the time he spent in the army as an infantry officer. His whole body shuddered at the memories. Being cold and wet had been part of his life for a long time. He had good grades in school and could have done anything with his life. His father had done everything in his power to discourage him from joining the army. But Mike had joined anyway and, despite being wet and cold all the time, he had enjoyed every minute of it. The brotherhood that came with being a paratrooper was something he held dear.