From Russia Without Love (9 page)

A small, potbellied elderly man who was walking two poodles through the park jumped at the gunshot. He dropped to the ground and hung on to his leashes. The dogs barked and tried to run away, but the man held on tight and shouted to his pets.

More police sirens sounded, and through the trees, Chris spotted a man who appeared to be a police officer standing on the sidewalk, talking into a radio, but he was unarmed and didn’t stand a chance of fighting Animus’s crew with a baton as his only weapon.

Animus’s team engaged Chris’s, and as mini sonic booms crashed against each other, the air snapped, crackled, and popped. Chunks of tree bark flew, and splinters of wood sprayed.

Animus seemed to follow Chris’s cue, taking cover behind a tree, but a hulking enemy was caught out in the open. Chris shot Hulk’s arm, sending him into a short spin, exposing his back, which Chris also fired at. The shot struck low, near the kidneys, but Hulk was still standing. Chris squeezed the trigger again. This time, Hulk fell over.

The air near Chris heated up, and a projectile narrowly missed his left arm. Although relieved the bullet hadn’t made impact, he still had to eliminate the threat of Animus and his goons. One of them, wearing a green shirt and green trousers must’ve been shot by Hannah or Sonny because he crumpled to the dirt.

Chris’s team had plenty of tree cover on each side for shooting and shielding their movement, but Animus’s squad had too many men and not enough wood. While Chris, Hannah, and Sonny fired and maneuvered freely, Animus and his comrades were trapped like fish in a barrel. Animus was no idiot; he wisely ordered his men to retreat.

Chris took a shot at a black-haired man who moved slow like molasses and nailed him in the back, but the shot propelled him forward rather than drop him. Chris breathed hot and fast, and his heart rate spiked without restraint. Molasses was about to find cover behind a tree. Chris aimed again, but his sights wobbled, hovering over nearly everything except his target. Chris hoped to take the shot when his sights aligned on Molasses’s upper back, but the shot missed.

As soon as Animus and his men reached a patch of woods for cover, he ordered his men to return fire. Chris wanted to chase them, but moving forward would put him and his team out in the open. He looked to Sonny, who wasn’t making a move, either. Hannah looked to Chris. She was a master at recruiting spies, but Chris and Sonny were the masters of killing. They needed to do something to gain a tactical advantage, but he didn’t know what. Patience could be a virtue, allowing the situation to unfold until an opportunity presented itself.

In the lull between the shots, one of the Russians started speaking, but Chris couldn’t hear what he was saying or notice anyone responding. Chris could only guess they were calling someone for reinforcements. Even if Chris’s team survived the initial fight against superior numbers without the benefit of surprise, they’d soon run out of ammo.

Off to the right, two policemen wearing bullet resistant vests and armed with submachine guns stepped out of a white police vehicle marked with an orange stripe on the side.

“We can’t stay here,” Chris whispered.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Sonny said.

Hannah nodded.

Because Chris was the strongest shooter of the three, it made the most sense to pair up Hannah and Sonny. Chris pointed to them. “You two leapfrog back.”

They didn’t have to be told twice. They hustled back ten meters to the nearest cover, while Chris watched their six. But Animus, Whiteface, and their men weren’t making even the slightest movement.
What are they up to?

When Hannah and Sonny opened fire on Animus and his clan, Chris took that as his signal to fall back. He passed a young mother and her child huddled on the ground, and he wished he could help them, but it was going to be all Chris could do to save himself. The best thing he could do for the mother and child was to leave the area quickly to remove the danger. His feet pounded against the ground as he passed Hannah and Sonny at a run and went ten more meters to the cover of a tree.

Animus’s crew shot at the armed police officers, and the police officers fired back. The police took out two of Animus’s men, but they retaliated with full force. A shot hit one of the officers in the neck, immediately dropping him. The other officer seemed to be wounded in both his arm and leg. He limped as he tried to drag his fallen buddy to safety.

While Animus and his men occupied themselves with the police, Chris and his crew were able to put nearly a hundred meters of distance between them and the bad guys.

“Time to haul ass,” Sonny said. He led Hannah and Chris southeast through the woods.

Police sirens descended on the park now. Chris glanced back. Animus and his comrades were still following Chris’s crew. And
fast
.

As Chris, Hannah, and Sonny ran, the ground appeared level, but a dip in one spot caused Chris to trip. He dodged trees. Their roots threatened to topple him, but he stayed on his feet. When one foot came down, a root made him lose his balance, twisting his ankle and wrenching his nerves. The agony caused his eyes to tear up, but he held his tongue.

He didn’t know how far he’d have to run, and having to do it on a bum ankle was not good. The pain in his shoulder returned from the shot he’d taken back in Athens, and he regretted not having done more physical training on his own after he left the Teams.

He gritted through the fire consuming his ankle and the stabbing in his shoulder, maintaining his pace. Animus could cause him even more pain, and if Animus turned him over to Xander, the man would surely clang Chris’s chimes for killing Evelina. He would much rather die than be captured—especially now.

The trio had run half a klick, reaching the southeast corner of Hyde Park, and the nerves in Chris’s shoulder and ankle had become numb. Although the numbness provided relief, he prayed he wasn’t causing permanent damage.

They passed a giant dark metal statue of Achilles armed with sword and shield. Chris considered how excruciating a shot to the heel would be, then banished the thought. Getting shot in the shoulder hurt enough as it was.

To the northeast of the nearest park exit was a bus stop where a red double-decker bus was parked. Trying to catch it would cause the trio to backtrack closer to the enemy. Before Chris could weigh the option anymore, the bus pulled out.

They slowed down to a walk and holstered their weapons to blend in better with the civilian population. Now there seemed to be people everywhere: entering the park, walking on the sidewalk, crossing the street, waiting for a bus, and driving. They were going about their everyday activities, clueless as to what danger was on its way.

Sonny crossed the northbound Park Lane. Hannah and Chris followed. Then Sonny traversed a grassy square where there were few trees. Traffic ran across multiple lanes of the southbound street, and Sonny, Hannah, and Chris came to a stop as they waited for an opening to cross.

“Damn!” Sonny cursed.

While they waited, the distress in Chris’s shoulder and ankle returned, and Animus and his clan were closing the hundred-meter gap behind them. Chris walked out into the street holding his arm out and yelling at oncoming traffic. He was sure a car would hit him, but the vehicles slowed down, honking at him as they crossed.
I’d rather get killed by a car than give Animus the satisfaction of killing me.

Hannah and Sonny followed, and a young white guy in a white Audi honked his horn. His vehicle pushed forward, his bumper nudging Sonny.

Sonny banged his fist on the hood and shouted, “I’m walking here, shit-for-brains!”

The driver waved his hand and shouted back in Jafaican—a mix of Cockney, Jamaican, and something else.

Sonny flipped him the bird. “Up yours, sweetheart.”

When they reached the other side of the street, they faced a tall concrete wall that ran for some distance and seemed to have no entrance. Sonny jumped and grabbed the top of the wall, pulled himself up, climbed over and dropped out of sight. Hannah went next, and Chris followed. Intense burning in his shoulder gripped him, but he made it over. On the other side, they scaled another wall.

They landed in a lush casino garden. Under a porch canopy, supported by fluted white pillars, a TV monitor displayed
BBC News
. The green card tabletops matched the color of the ivy and other plants. At the roulette table, men and women wearing business attire stopped gaming, drinking, and cigar smoking to gawk at Chris and his friends. The looks on their faces ranged from curiosity to fear.

Sonny took the point, briskly and confidently walking across the patio past the red horse chestnut and bay trees.

Hannah smiled at the guests. “Maintenance.”

At the time, it sounded like a weak cover, but in the heat of the moment, no other excuse came to mind, so Chris smiled, too.

Some of the guests returned to their activities, but the croupier kept staring, her brow creased and her roulette wheel stationary.

Sonny passed the bar on his way into the building. Inside, they found another roulette wheel and more card tables, but this time they didn’t attract as many eyes.

A man in a tuxedo approached Sonny. “May I help you, sir?” he asked, his tone haughty.

“Yes, actually. Can you show me the way out?” Sonny asked. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

“Right this way, sir.” The man in the tuxedo led them off the gaming floor and down an arched hallway where chandeliers lined the ceiling. At the end of the hall, Chris and his team exited the building, returning to the streets of London.

To their left, three of the Russians rounded the street corner, discreetly holding their pistols down to their sides but not concealing them. It appeared Animus had split his men up to look for Chris’s crew.

“These guys won’t quit,” Chris muttered.

Sonny’s face twisted in determination. “We have to make them quit.”

“Or at least slow them down,” Hannah said.

Animus and another Russian appeared. Now there were five of them.

Across the street, the doorman to the Four Seasons Hotel greeted Sonny, who ignored him and entered the lobby. Chris and Hannah followed close behind. The lobby was clear except for a handful of guests checking in at the front desk. Chris’s first impulse was to form a hasty ambush on Animus, but that would endanger the guests. He didn’t like choosing a path of escape through populated areas, but in the heart of London, there wasn’t a plethora of unpopulated places where he and his friends could stay alive.

As they made haste through the lobby, Chris threw a quick glance over his shoulder. The Russians followed behind, but they weren’t displaying their weapons anymore. Sonny picked up his pace to a jog. The Russians picked up their pace, too.

Chris and his crew exited the hotel and slipped through the front doors of the Playboy Club. It was a classy joint similar to the first club they’d passed through, with expensive furnishings, a casino, and well-dressed guests. The main difference was the female staff, who wore black pantyhose, corset teddies, cuffs, bow tie collars, rabbit ears, and fluffy white cottontails.

A bunny greeted them at the door, and Sonny swiftly brushed past her. The door bunny cocked her head as if to ask a question, but before she could say anything, the trio had passed her.

Entering the club, Sonny voiced his disappointment. “Where are the naked women?”

Chris shook his head.
Only he would think about that at a time like this.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw Animus and his posse arrive behind them.

Sonny hung a left in the casino and took them through a side exit. Outside, a finely attired elderly gentleman stepped into a black cab. Chris and his friends joined the elderly gentleman in his taxi. The gentleman rattled with surprise, and he seemed about to say something but didn’t.

Chris and Hannah smiled at him politely, but Sonny ignored him.

There was no passenger seat in the front of the cab and probably no room for a trunk in back, but in the middle was a three-seat bench facing two foldout seats. Chris unfolded the foldout seat and sat.

“Where to, sir?” the driver asked.

“Out of here,” Sonny said. “Just drive.”

“I need to know where to,” the driver said.

“Buckingham Palace,” Chris blurted. It was the first place that popped into his mind.

The elderly gentleman shook his head and couldn’t seem to stop trembling as he spoke. “I do not know who you people are, but I am not with you, and I am not going to Buckingham Palace.”

“Where are you going?” Chris asked.

The gentleman took in Chris’s torn and stained shirt and sat still. Inside the Playboy Club, Animus and his goons hurried for the exit nearest the taxi.

“Buckingham Palace now!” Chris pressed.

Animus and his men reached for their pistols.

“Drive!” Sonny shouted.

The trio ducked and pulled the older man down with them. Bullets shattered windows of the Playboy Club, creating a frightening racket.

The taxi spun out, flying northeast on the one-way Brick Street.

“I thought the pickpockets in Madrid were bad,” Hannah said to the driver, “but Madrid is calm compared to London.”

“Shooting is not an everyday occurrence,” the driver said with a quiver in his voice.

“I hope not,” Hannah said.

Sonny peered out the back window, searching for their enemy.

_______

C
hris checked the GPS map on his smartphone. Because of the one-way streets, the driver would have to circle around to Hyde Park and the Achilles statue before taking a more direct course to Buckingham Palace. The Queen’s Gallery at the Palace was well within walking distance of Victoria Station, which seemed like a great point of egress. If someone later asked the driver where he took his passengers, he’d only be able to tell them Buckingham Palace, and it’d be difficult to figure out where Chris and his companions went after that. “You can drop us off at the Queen’s Gallery,” Chris told the driver.

Chris had been so focused on their immediate survival he’d ignored the old man, who’d closed his eyes and balled up in the corner of the cab, his mouth moving without opening. “We’re not going to hurt you, sir,” Chris said.

The man’s mouth stopped moving.

“We just need a ride to the Queen’s Gallery, and then we’ll disappear.”

The elderly man opened an eye, but when he saw Chris looking at him, he closed it again.

As they neared the Achilles statue, Chris felt his heart rate pick up before he scanned to see if any of the Russian thugs were lingering in the park. When no signs of the thugs appeared, he managed to take in deep breaths, calming his pulse.

Within minutes, the driver stopped near the Queen’s Palace, and Hannah paid him before parting company and melting with Chris and Sonny into the surrounding crowd. They examined the grounds for anyone who might’ve followed them, but there were no signs of surveillance.

When their taxi vanished, Chris said, “I’ll take point to Victoria Station.”

They strolled southwest like other sightseers leaving the palace. “The hotel room was ours for a week, right, Chris?” Hannah asked. He nodded, and she continued. “So that should give us time to get someone in there to make sure we didn’t leave anything behind and check out for us.”

“Someone from the Agency?” Sonny asked.

“The London chief is too much of a chair-hugger to send a cleaner for us,” Hannah said. “Avoids espionage like the plague, but he attends to all the brown-nosing opportunities.”

Sonny huffed. “Then who can help us?”

“I know a guy who might be able to clean up the hotel mess,” she said with a faraway gaze. She pulled out her cell phone and made a call.

As they walked by Grosvenor Park on the way to the station, images of Evelina bleeding in the stairway flooded Chris’s mind. She was untrustworthy and had tried to kill him, but guilt still gnawed at him. A number of the enemies he’d shot, he’d never spoken to, but in Evelina’s case, he’d interacted with her on more than one occasion. Instead of becoming desensitized to killing her, he’d become sensitized. He wondered what exactly her role in all of this was and what she hoped to gain by shooting him. Hannah nudged him as she hung up her phone and put it away.

“You okay?” she asked.

He gave her a tight smile and nodded. None of these feelings or thoughts were conducive to accomplishing the mission, so he needed to pack them in a box, push them into the warehouse of his mind, and stack them with the others. But then he remembered something: he had Evelina’s phone. Maybe thinking about her wasn’t all for nothing.

He put his hand in his pocket, confirming it was still there.

They descended the steps to the Victoria subway station, and Hannah quickly bought tickets and handed them out. “I contacted an old acquaintance, William Teach. He used to work for the Circus,” she said, using a nickname for MI6. “But now he works for himself. He said we can stay at his house, and I’m hoping he’ll be able to help us, too.”

While they rode the Tube, Chris pulled out Evelina’s phone and searched for intel. In her web search history there was UKP’s website and another link for a map of the area around UKP. Then he connected to Young’s website, so he could gather more information from Evelina’s phone and analyze it. Chris shared what he’d found with Hannah and Sonny, and they agreed her web search history supported the theory that Xander’s next target was UKP headquarters.

After five minutes, the train stopped, and the SOG trio exited at South Kensington Station, where Hannah led them on a walk several blocks to a house on Queensberry Place. Parked in front was a red Ferrari. Behind the car stood a six-story white stucco Victorian. A small set of outdoor stairs led to what the British called the “ground” floor. Below was a basement, and above the ground floor were the first, second, third, and fourth floors. The building shared walls with the houses on either side and had no front yard, but in this upscale neighborhood of London, the house was probably worth over twenty million dollars.

Hannah spoke quietly as she led them to the front door. “This place is a far cry from where William’s foot soldiers live, mostly in the slums of World’s End. And it’s doubtful his neighbors know how connected he is to the underworld, if it all.”

She rang the doorbell, and a man dressed in suit and tie answered the door, introducing himself as William’s assistant. After Hannah gave her name, the man showed them in to a reception room and offered them a seat while he left to inform William they’d arrived.

They sat, and Chris studied the reception room. Three of the walls were brown with a leaf pattern and one wall was black and white with a leopard design. The furniture was a dizzying mix of colors and styles—classic Victorian, hip sixties, and two twisted lamps that appeared to be descended from outer space. The whole room shouted nouveau riche and made Chris’s head ache.

Footsteps sounded, and William appeared, wearing a neon suit jacket and white shirt with the collar opened wide. He had black hair, a tan complexion, thick moustache, and an unlit cigar in his mouth. His strong, husky build seemed soft around the edges, like a former dockworker who now enjoyed a few too many fine dinners.

“Welcome!” he said with a big smile and outstretched arms.

Seeing the outstretched arms, Chris remembered last year when a duplicitous Agency bastard named Jim Bob welcomed him with outstretched arms. Jim Bob had nearly killed Chris and Hannah. Chris didn’t trust William. Not yet. The man would have to earn it.

Chris and Hannah stood at William’s greeting, but Sonny remained seated.

Hannah smiled and gave the man a hug. A knot formed in Chris’s gut, and heat rose up his neck. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous. No one else’s hands should be on her, but he had to contain himself. He took a deep breath and unclenched the fist he hadn’t realized he’d formed.

“It’s been awhile,” she said.

“I thought I’d never see you again—especially not here in London. How are things?” he asked.

Hannah got other people to reveal themselves, but she revealed little, and often what she revealed was just another cover story, like layers on an onion. “This is Chris. And Sonny,” she said with a smile that appeared to disarm William.

“Welcome,” he said.

Chris reached out and shook his hand. “Hi.”

Sonny had a sour look on his face like he’d eaten a lemon. “You said
welcome
twice.”

William’s smile began to fade, but Hannah laughed just in time. “Don’t pay Sonny too much attention. He’s like that with everyone. Sometimes he likes to stir things up a bit.”

“Have a seat,” William said, gesturing, “please.”

Chris and Hannah returned to their spots, William following suit. He lit his cigar and offered some to the others, but only Sonny accepted, his frowning face lifting.

“Sounds like you’re still getting in trouble,” William said as he settled his gaze on Hannah.

“Same old, same old,” she said.

He took a puff on his cigar. “Have you seen Maximilian lately? What was his last name… Wolf-something?”

“Wolf is dead.”

“Dead? That’s terrible… How?”

“It happens,” she said matter-of-factly, not elaborating. “Speaking of business, yours seems to be doing well.”

He took another puff on his cigar. “Always the tight-lipped woman of mystery,” he said with a grin. “There’s a lot of contract work to be done: Europe, Middle East, Africa.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I got tired of gardening. Well, I wasn’t very good at it, either. All my tomatoes died.”

Sonny took his cigar out of his mouth and tapped it on the edge of the ashtray. “So now you’re a mercenary.”

“Same things I did in the Circus, gathering intel, acting on it, except now my work isn’t as difficult and I get paid more. People with experience like us can make up to ten times what our governments paid us.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with that kind of money,” Hannah said.

“You saw the Ferrari out front,” William said.

She shrugged. “I like my car.”

William looked at Chris and Sonny, but they didn’t say anything.

“Now I get paid what I’m worth,” he went on. “And I don’t have to answer to a ringleader. Hannah, you and I would make a most smashing team.”

“Are you trying to take Hannah away from us?” Chris asked, unable to push down the aggression rising in his voice. “Break up our act?”

William casually blew smoke in the air. “Not break up the act. Merely offer a better contract.”

Hannah shook her head. “Always the charmer.”

“I’m serious,” William said.

She looked at Chris and Sonny. “I already have a team.”

William smiled. “If you can vouch for them—which I’m sure you can, otherwise they wouldn’t be with you—I could use them, too.”

Sonny blew cigar smoke at William. “We’re not for sale.”

Hannah shot Sonny a glare, but he was unfazed.

William changed the subject. “So you need a place to stay? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you,” she said with an even smile.

William grinned back. “Anything you need.”

Chris didn’t like the hungry way he looked at her, like he was eyeing dessert.

“I need a cleaner, too,” she said.

He tapped his cigar on the ashtray. “That won’t be free.”

“I didn’t think it would be.” She paused. “And I need to find someone.”

William stopped smoking on his cigar. “I can arrange for the cleaning, but I can’t find someone for you. I don’t do that for governments anymore.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a sly smile. “I thought you worked for anyone. Anywhere.”

“Not for anyone. Not anymore.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Not enough money and too much risk.”

“You can clean up, but you can’t find out where a person is?”

“I can clean up what’s already been done,” William clarified, “but I won’t be a part of what’s about to be done. Not for governments.”

“I’m not asking you for my government. I’m asking you as a personal favor,” she said.

William smiled and shook his head. “You look amazing. It’s so good to see you again.”

Hannah flashed him a petawatt smile.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked.

“Xander Metaxas,” she said.

William stroked his chin with a finger. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Code-named Lullaby.”

The mention of Lullaby caused William’s whole being to darken.

“So you know him.” Chris said.

“Know
of
him,” William said.

“What do you know?” Hannah asked.

William shifted his gaze to the carpet. “More than I care to.”

“He took a hostage in Athens, the White House Chief of Staff’s son-in-law. When the hostage tried to escape, Lullaby killed him.”

“Maybe the hostage is lucky to be dead,” William said.

“I’ll advance you the money for expenses,” Hannah said, “and if your expenses run higher, you know I’ll cover them.”

William shook his head. “I already told you I can’t.”

“Can you tell me what you know about Lullaby?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“Like his aliases or his mode of operation.”

William’s mouth became taut. “His mode of operation is like Ebola. He destroys everything. And he stays low under the radar until he starts infecting people.”

It seemed the man knew more than he was letting on, so Chris piped up again. “Why does the mention of his name trouble you?”

William let out a sigh, still looking down at the floor, as if he were scrolling through his memories. Then he leaned forward in his seat. “
Troubled
doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about Lullaby. When I was in the Circus, we had a top agent in Greece. Lullaby found out the agent was spying on one of his people, so he had one of the agent’s relatives castrated. Then Lullaby sent the severed organs to the agent. After the agent had some time to reflect on matters, Lullaby put a bullet in the same relative’s skull. The agent continued spying for us, so Lullaby had another of the agent’s relatives killed, sending body parts to the agent again. The agent finally hung himself. Then Lullaby sent a message to our embassy saying the same fate awaited any future spies.” He shook his head. “You don’t want to mess with Lullaby.”

Chris leaned forward in his chair and pitched his voice low. “Oh, but I do want to mess with Lullaby.”

“Dead or alive,” Hannah said.

“Preferably dead,” Sonny said.

William slumped in his seat as if suddenly shouldering a massive burden. “Be careful what you wish for.”