From Russia Without Love (12 page)

The kid threw up his hands and backed away. “Hey, we don’t want any trouble, man. We’ll go our way and you go yours.”

Glasses folded the blade back into the handle of his switchblade. “See? No trouble.”

Chris put his pistol back into its holster, concealed once more by his suit jacket. This time, when he resumed his journey out of the alley, the twins didn’t follow.

With no clues as to where Business Tourist had gone, Chris returned to his static surveillance post. There, he tried to ignore the nagging reminder he’d lost his target. He reviewed the surveillance video recorded while he was out, simultaneously watching the live feed.

Nothing.

That evening, when Hannah and Sonny returned, he told them what had transpired. As he was showing them the surveillance video, Hannah raised a finger. “Didn’t we see that guy in the lobby of one of the hotels yesterday?”

“What guy?” Sonny asked.

She pointed to the image of Business Tourist. “That guy.”

“We saw so many people and so many lobbies,” Sonny said.

“I’ve seen him, too. That’s who I was following this morning.” Chris rubbed the back of his head, frustrated. “He could’ve been reporting to Xander. You could’ve found Xander’s hotel.”

Hannah inputted something into her cell phone. “I wish I could remember which hotel we were in.”

As they watched the rest of the recorded video of Business Tourist on one monitor, movement in the live-feed monitor caught their eyes. A marked police car picked up the uniformed officer in front of UKP, and the van with the dark windows rolled away.

“The police are pulling out,” Chris said.

Next, the plainclothes security officer disappeared inside UKP.

“Wow,” Sonny said. “If that ain’t an official invitation for Xander to strike, it’ll do ’til the invitation arrives.”

“Maybe all three of us should stick around here for a while,” Hannah suggested.

Chris and Sonny agreed.

Later, when they watched the news, the local weather forecaster came on the screen with a special report.

“A low pressure system is blowing in from the North Sea, and there will be high tides along the coast and heavy rains inland. The Thames Barrier is being closed to protect the city. We’ll keep an eye on the storm and keep you updated…”

Chris shook his head. “When it rains, it pours.”

_______

T
hat night, in a roomy two-car garage of a safe house outside of London, Xander showed Animus how to construct a homemade car bomb. They placed boards inside the back of the van that would carry the explosives, then drilled the boards to the floor in order to keep the thirteen barrels stable while transporting them to the target area.

“Now we need to fill each bucket with the right amount of explosive,” Xander said. His face was blank, emotionless, as they worked.

“Can I ask a personal question?” Animus asked.

Xander poured Tovex into a plastic bucket and weighed it with the scale to make sure it was the correct amount. “Yes,” he said after a moment.

Animus couldn’t contain the anger in his heart, and it overpowered his voice, making it tremble. “This has all become so ugly. How do you keep from being consumed by it?”

After adjusting the amount of Tovex in the bucket, Xander emptied it into one of the fifty-five-gallon barrels. “I am not sure I understand.”

Animus tried to mimic Xander’s calm and even manner, and measured the next amount of Tovex before pouring it into a barrel. “I feel so much rage at these Americans, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Rage is good,” Xander said. “Rage fulfills destiny.”

“You lost your wife and daughter, yet now you seem so calm. I don’t understand how you do it.”

“It is the calm before the storm,” Xander said. “Success is my revenge.”

“Success?”

“I am not half-Greek like you, but you are half-Russian like me, and as Russians, we know how to immerse ourselves in fighting the West and delusions of glasnost and perestroika. I know you can feel what I am saying is true. Together, you and I will crush the American and his allies. Our success will be our revenge.”

Animus nodded.

They completed portioning the Tovex into each of the barrels. Then they distributed liquid nitromethane, diesel fuel, and ammonium nitrate fertilizer into each of the drums. “Now we need to shape the charge,” Xander explained. “We will pack the rest of the fertilizer around the explosives, leaving one wall of the van empty. When the bomb explodes, it will blast through the area of least resistance, the empty wall. That will be the one facing UKP headquarters. Because the blast will be directed in one direction, we will be able to post our little army around the area, using trees in the park for cover, to make sure no one defuses it. Anyone who survives the blast and tries to escape the building, we will shoot.”

“Will this destroy the whole building?” Animus asked.

“It will destroy much of the first floor,” Xander said, “and I hope the unsupported weight of the building will make the rest of it collapse. After the explosion, we’ll sweep through St. James Square and shoot everyone we see.” He duct-taped two PVC pipes to the floor, running from the explosives to the driver’s seat. He grimaced and pulled so hard on the tape it looked as if he was strangling it. Then he slashed the tape with his knife. “Five years ago, on the twenty-first of December, the West was responsible for the death of my wife.”

“It is why we call ourselves 21D,” Animus said, repeating what Xander had told him previously. “In her memory.”

“It is time to remember her again. And Evelina.” He smothered the pipes with paint to blend with the color of the van’s floorboards. “It is time for the
pogrom
.” It is time for the massacre.

Then he stabbed a fuse through one of the pipes. “Now you do the other.”

Seeing Xander’s acrimony bleed through to the surface made Animus’s heart wrench for the man and increased his desire to triumph in their mission. He ran the second fuse through the other pipe.

“Excellent,” Xander said. “We’ll join one end of each fuse to the thirteen blasting caps, which will connect to tubes of Tovex that will detonate the explosives in each barrel. And we’ll hook up a detonator to the driver’s side of the fuse.”

“Why two fuses, then?” Animus asked.

“Just in case one does not work properly. In Moscow we say, ‘If you are going for a day trip, take a week’s supply of bread.’”

“I’m with you to the death,” Animus said.

“The death will be theirs. Then we can begin Phase Three.

_______

A
t 0745, Business Tourist appeared. Chris, Sonny, and Hannah geared up, and the guys took positions in St. James Square, Chris on foot and Sonny in a vehicle, while Hannah provided surveillance from the office. When a three-van motorcade turned down Duke of York Street, Sonny cut them off and pretended to have car trouble, so he could take a peek at who was in the motorcade.

The men in the vans and Business Tourist began shooting, and Chris and Sonny defended themselves. The lead van sped forward and hit Sonny’s “stalled” vehicle with a smack and pushed Sonny’s car out of the way before turning onto St. James Square and proceeding toward UKP. The van behind it, riddled with bullets from Chris and Sonny, rolled forward into the intersection but didn’t make the turn. A black taxi sped around the square and plowed into the van with a horrific metal
crack
, smashing the front of the taxi and knocking the van over on its side. The taxi driver appeared to be pinned between the steering wheel and his seat. He wasn’t moving.

Behind the first two vans, the third van didn’t go anywhere, but Xander and nine of his men—armed with AK-47 assault rifles—poured out of the tail of the vehicle. Chris tried to take a shot, but Xander ducked back behind the van before he could squeeze the trigger.

Sonny was vulnerable standing in the open without any cover or concealment, and he must have seen how outnumbered he was, because he sprinted toward Chris, who covered him by laying down suppressive fire into Xander’s group.

The first van had stopped in front of UKP. Its back doors flew open, and Animus and an armed gang of close to a dozen appeared.

Xander and his men faced Chris and fired at him from near the third van.

Sonny jumped over a fence surrounding the park area, and just after he weaved into the trees, an explosion lifted the tipped-over van completely off the street. The earth quaked, Sonny stumbled, and a geyser sprouted up out of the ground, spewing chunks of asphalt with it.

“Chris!” a voice screamed from the chaos.
Xander.
“I know you are here. I will find you, and I will kill you!”

A number of pedestrians had cleared out of the area, but some stragglers remained.

“I got your back,” Hannah said, but her voice came from both Chris’s earpiece and behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see her there, HK416 at the ready. He didn’t have the luxury of concern for her safety and was happy to have another gun in the fight.

Through Old Faithful, Chris spotted one of Xander’s men, armed with an AK, as he executed a civilian. Chris put his red dot on the man with the AK and squeezed, and Sonny fired at another enemy armed with an AK. Two down.

Somebody from Xander’s group fired in Chris’s direction, but his shots struck nowhere near Chris. “They’re shooting at civilians!” he shouted.

While the loud noise of the AK gave away the shooter’s position, the SOG trio were using sound suppressors. Any sounds from their shots dissipated quickly, disguising their true location. A businessman stood in front of UKP petrified with fear, and a businesswoman tried to crawl to safety, but Xander’s group approached steadily, blasting through them. There were too many bad guys and not enough good guys.

To the right, Animus’s team seemed confused. Maybe they didn’t understand why the other two vehicles in their three-van convoy hadn’t joined them. Hannah whacked one of Animus’s men, causing Animus and the others to hunker down.

The two groups of enemy combatants were each fifty meters away. Although Xander was probably deadlier than Animus, the younger man had a few more men by his side. Chris helped Hannah fire on Animus’s group. The airy
pop-pop
of Sonny’s carbine let Chris know Sonny was taking care of business, too.

One of Animus’s men poked his head out from behind the van, and Chris poked it back with a bullet to the skull. It was a damn good shot, and Chris felt proud. While he anticipated another target presenting itself, a flow of water swept over his shoes. The broken main and rainwater were flooding in his team’s direction.

Animus and his men moved out from behind the van and toward Chris. He aimed for Animus, who passed in behind a tree, and Chris lost his shot.

The police sirens were so loud it sounded like the area was surrounded, but Chris hadn’t spotted a single officer or vehicle.

In Chris’s peripheral vision, Xander’s men continued to advance. Defending two flanks against so many combatants seemed impossible, but Chris spotted a beefy guy with an AK and took a shot. His aim was to the right and struck the man in the shoulder, spinning him. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but maybe it was enough to put him out of action, at least for now.

A violent torrent of gunfire rang out from both Animus’s and Xander’s directions, causing the air around Chris to buzz and crackle as the projectiles zipped by. One bullet slammed the tree so close to his face he felt the shock wave in his teeth.

“Infidel,” he said, using Hannah’s call sign, “we can’t hold them off much longer. You and Sunshine stand by to fall back.”

“Roger,” Hannah said.

Sonny grunted.

A round clipped the wool in Chris’s suit, grazing his flesh.

“Fall back,” Chris said. He fired three rapid shots in Animus’s direction and then three in Xander’s, trying to keep their heads down until Hannah and Sonny could find protected positions to the rear. Then he swung back to Animus and delivered three more shots.

All the enemy bullets seemed focused on Chris now, and the air burst next to his skin. When he heard Hannah and Sonny’s weapons open fire—that was his signal—he wasted no time turning and running.

The water seemed deeper now, slowly pushing him toward Hannah and Sonny. It was better than being pushed backward, but each time he lifted a leg to move, the water sapped his movement and energy, causing him to decelerate. With bullets blistering the space around him, his upper body frantically tried to move faster than his legs could carry him, and he fell. A shit storm of lead blasted above, barely missing him. He desperately longed for Mother Ocean to wrap her cloak around him for protection.

Hannah and Sonny raised the bang of their firepower, giving Chris a moment’s break from the onslaught. He hopped to his feet and retreated to a spot behind their position. He used a tree for cover and blasted at Xander and his men. Hannah and Sonny took that as their cue to get up and hurry to the rear. The purpose of the leapfrog was to break contact with the enemy, but the bad guys were gaining on Chris’s crew, regardless.

Both Xander’s and Animus’s men had converged in the park and seemed hell-bent on annihilating Chris, Hannah, Sonny, and anyone else still alive in the park.

“Give up now, Chris, and I’ll let you live!” Xander called.

Thanks, but no thanks.

Hannah and Sonny fired at Xander, so Chris rose to his feet again and retreated in their direction. His lungs burned from the exertion, and he’d strained for oxygen so much he thought he’d puke. Sloshing through the water as he ran, his M4 was out of ammo, and he changed magazines. A tree stood in his path, and he veered around, the tree taking a bullet-pummeling from the enemy.

Once Chris was past Hannah and Sonny’s position, the firing around the trio became too grave for him to remain standing, even with a tree for cover, so Chris dropped down on a knee in the water, peeked around the tree, and returned fire. Bullets struck the liquid surrounding him. He was only moments away from being overrun. The streets, sidewalks, and park were littered with bodies. A man with a broken ankle ran away, his ankle flopping, and he fell repeatedly trying to flee the area.

As Chris’s teammates raced to the rear, and with no help in sight, he felt alone in what were surely his final moments.

Lord, where are You?

He busted caps in Xander’s and Animus’s directions.

If it’s my time to go, I’ll go, but please help the others
.

A voice called out on a megaphone from Xander’s direction, but it was a garbled mess, and Chris couldn’t understand what was said. Gunshots rang out behind Xander’s crew. Then Chris distinguished one word from the megaphone. “Police!”

Xander’s gang broke off firing at Chris and his team and redirected at the police, who must’ve been behind Xander.

Chris took his cue to escape to a more secure location. He turned and quickly splashed through the water toward Hannah and Sonny. The water level continued to rise as he joined his friends in the southern end of the park. Farther south, outside the park, and across the street was a row of cheaply made twentieth-century buildings.

Chris caught his breath. “Let’s give the police a hand.”

“Done,” Sonny said.

While Xander and his men duked it out with the police, Chris fired at the back of a man who looked like one of the Albanian thugs Chris encountered in Athens. Maybe he was Talos. Chris exhaled, and in the calm, quiet pause between emptying his lungs and filling them up again, he eased the slack out of his trigger. Then the satisfying recoil pushed against his shoulder. Talos arched his back, but he didn’t go down. Chris took a second shot. This time, Talos fell with a splash.

The rain came down so thick and heavy that seeing with the naked eye became a challenge, and discriminating targets with his red dot was becoming impossible, so he hit the quick release on his scope, removed it, stuck it in his pocket, and flipped up his iron sights. As he did that, two more tangos went down. It wasn’t clear whether Hannah and Sonny had nailed them or if the police had done them a favor, but bad guys down was a good thing.

Chris lined up his iron sights and snuffed another of Xander’s men, and the momentum of the firefight began to shift in his team’s favor. As the trio’s weapons spit bullets, the empty metal casings of the spent cartridges flew out the ejection ports, making plopping sounds in the water around them. As a pastor, maybe he should have felt guilt at killing so many, but his life and the lives of those around him were in danger. And as an experienced frogman, he couldn’t kill enough of Xander’s clan. Not until every last one of them was dead.

The beefy guy Chris had shot in the shoulder earlier came into his field of vision. This time, Chris had more time to focus—
pop!
—and beefy guy went down and stayed there.

The precipitation continued as Chris and his teammates knocked out the enemy one by one. Three more tangos splashed down, reducing Xander and Animus’s men to roughly a dozen combined. The success boosted Chris’s concentration, and he squeezed the trigger with calm gusto. Hannah and Sonny seemed jacked up, too. The change in momentum had to have a demoralizing effect on Xander and Animus, but they didn’t show it.

The gunshots from the police side subsided, and the enemies turned on Chris, Hannah, and Sonny. In spite of Chris’s team whittling down their numbers, Xander, Animus, and their men still outnumbered Chris’s crew. They held their ground, but the enemies used trees for cover as they advanced, steadily closing the gap between them.

“This doesn’t look good,” Hannah said.

She was right. Behind them was a blocky twentieth-century building, an obstacle to their retreat. They could try to slip through one of the doors, but once inside, their movements would be constricted, and if the indoor shops were crowded, a gunfight would cause more civilian casualties. “Infidel and Sunshine, fall back around the west side of the building behind us. I’ll cover.”

They both bounded over the low fence surrounding the park and disappeared to the rear. The flooding water knocked over some parked bicycles nearby, and Chris let them float right on past as he focused on the enemy.

Xander’s gang seemed uninhibited by Chris’s fire, continuing to shoot and advance on him, so he flicked his selector switch to
full auto
and sprayed at them, hoping to discourage them from shooting at Hannah and Sonny. Steam rose from the heated barrel of Chris’s carbine, and his bullet spray caused Xander and his men to direct their fire away from Hannah and Sonny, and give Chris their undivided attention. An enemy round struck the metal fence behind him, and bullets splashed the water, one striking his pant leg.

Bullets seemed to fly everywhere: left, right, above, below, front, and behind. One struck his chest, but one of the magazines of ammo in his vest stopped the round from striking flesh. The cell phone in his pocket exploded. Both the impact of the shot to the chest and his cell phone knocked him to the ground. He thought he felt the little communication bud fall out of his ear as he half-crawled away from the shots. He rose awkwardly to his feet, then a whizzing bullet ripped past his neck.

“You killed Evelina!” shouted Animus. “Now it’s your turn to die!” His voice was so full of anger Chris’s body faltered, weakness seeping into his muscles.

Snap out of it, Chris!
he commanded himself.

Then his weapon ran dry and he had to move. As he ran, he repositioned his trigger finger and ejected the empty magazine, while with his other hand, he removed a full magazine from his vest and reloaded. He finished just before he jumped the fence between him and his retreat. Then he dashed across the street and bumped into a parked car, which stopped him before he could slow down.

A woman crawled through the water in his direction, seeking cover from the butchers. One of her legs appeared to be wounded. She wore a rose-colored dress that reminded him of one of the young women in his congregation back in Dallas. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to safety, using the vehicle as a shield. Like a flock of angry woodpeckers, bullets jabbed holes in the car. The woman shuddered and cried, but the rain came down so heavily Chris couldn’t distinguish between the flow of rain on her face and tears. He desperately wanted to help her, but if he stayed where he was, they’d both surely die.

Above the terrible racket of gunfire and rounds hitting the vehicle, he said close to her ear, “Close your eyes and play dead. You’re going to survive.” It was a promise he’d made as a SEAL…more times than he cared to remember. Sometimes the promise was fulfilled, and sometimes it wasn’t. It was a promise he couldn’t guarantee. But whether the woman lived or died, she deserved hope. Everyone did.