Betrayal (42 page)

Drake had one for him. ‘Where will I be in all this?’

The senior FSB agent regarded him irritably. ‘You will be here, at Lubyanka.’

‘That’s unacceptable.’

‘It is also unacceptable that two of our most senior officers have been tortured to death,’ Kamarov reminded him. ‘Yet still it has happened.’

‘I want to be there,’ Drake persisted.

‘What you want is irrelevant. This operation is FSB only. Consider yourself fortunate to even be in Moscow.’

Beneath the table, Drake clenched his fists. ‘You wouldn’t even know about this rendezvous if it wasn’t for me.’

Kamarov’s eyes flared with anger, but before he could reply, Miranova jumped in. ‘Agent Drake does have a point. He has been useful to this investigation so far, and his judgement has been sound. We would do well to have him on hand.’

Kamarov held Drake’s gaze a moment longer, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to introduce him to some of Lubyanka’s less pleasant areas.

‘Our command and control unit will be set up a short distance from the meeting point,’ he said at length. ‘You can remain on standby there, but no closer. Do we understand each other?’

Drake unclenched his fists. ‘Perfectly.’

He spared Miranova a fleeting glance. They had eye contact only for a second or two, but it was enough to convey the gratitude he felt.

Satisfied if not pleased, Kamarov nodded. ‘All right. Get ready. We leave in five minutes.’

As the brief gathering broke up, Drake turned away and walked over to the window, bowing his head as the full weight of what was about to happen settled on him.

Anya was going to die today, and the only person who could do anything about it was him. Nobody else could help him now. Nobody else could make this choice for him.

Give up Anya’s life, or risk giving up his own.

There was no choice to make, and he knew it.

Swallowing, he nodded to himself as if to solidify the decision in his mind, then turned back to the room and caught Mason’s eye, beckoning him over. His friend approached warily, the memory of their earlier confrontation no doubt still fresh in his mind.

‘What is it?’ There was no trace of his former camaraderie now.

‘Over here, mate,’ Drake said quietly, steering him to a corner of the room where they could speak with some semblance of privacy. ‘Listen, I need you to do something for me, Cole. It’s important.’

Mason cocked an eyebrow. ‘This ought to be good.’

Drake sighed and looked him hard in the eye. ‘I need you to get out of here.’

‘Ryan, we already—’

‘This isn’t about what happened earlier,’ Drake interrupted. ‘Whatever our differences, it doesn’t matter now. You were right, mate – I put you and the others at risk by going after Anya. I’m sorry for that. In fact, I’m sorry about a lot of things. But I’m not going to put anyone else at risk.’

Mason frowned, taken aback. ‘So what do you want from me?’

He paused, just for a moment. An instant of hesitation. A reality check.

This was it; his last chance to back out, to give up this foolish notion before it ruined him. If he did this, there would be no going back.

An instant, and then it was gone.

‘I need you to get out of here – out of the city, out of the country. Make an excuse, say you’ve been recalled to Langley … whatever. Get your arse to the US embassy. I’ll direct Sam and Keira to meet you there.’

One of the other benefits of being a Shepherd team member was their ability to claim diplomatic asylum, no questions asked. Rocking up to an embassy building without a passport and demanding to be let in was hardly the height of professionalism, but if the situation called for it they could nonetheless take such an extreme measure.

Once all three of his companions were safely back on US soil, Drake could act without fear of reprisals against them. At least, that was what he told himself.

‘Great. What are
you
going to do?’ Mason asked.

Drake shook his head. ‘Better you don’t know.’

It didn’t take a genius to see that he was planning something very dangerous and very stupid – sabotaging an FSB operation. Mason moved a step closer, keeping his voice low. ‘Are you out of your fucking mind? They’ll throw your ass in jail if you try to screw with this.’

‘I have to do something.’ Drake looked at his friend again, seeking acknowledgement, seeking understanding. ‘They’re going to kill her, Cole.’

Mason was unmoved. ‘Tell me she’d do the same for you.’

Drake had seen that one coming, but it still wasn’t easy to hear.

‘I don’t have all the answers,’ he admitted. ‘But I know Anya’s part of something – something bigger than terrorist attacks and kidnappings and all this shit we’ve been chasing here. I
know
there’s a reason behind what she’s doing. And I think it has something to do with why she ended up in a Russian prison. Men in both countries want her dead.’

Just for a moment he felt as though he could see it all laid out before him. Years of lies and secrets, plans and hidden schemes, events and decisions all caught up together like a web, slowly reaching out to encompass everything around it, ensnaring people who fooled themselves into thinking they were safe. And in the centre of it all, alone and surrounded by enemies, was Anya.

‘Anya’s the only person who knows how it all fits together,’ he finished. ‘If I lose her … then
they
win. I can’t let it happen, mate. I’m sorry, but it’s just me now. I have to help her.’

Mason stared back at him. Silent, undecided, torn between two opposing paths.

‘You know that if you go through with this, even if it works, there’s no coming back from it. Ever,’ he warned.

Once more Drake thought about the question he’d asked himself earlier as he stared at his reflection.
How much further are you willing to go for her?

As far as I have to.

‘I know.’

‘It’s your call,’ Mason said at last. ‘I can’t stop you. But God help you if you’re wrong about her.’

Drake said nothing to that. If he was wrong about Anya, then he deserved everything that was coming to him. For now at least, he still had a chance.

He looked at Mason again, his previous animosity towards the man almost forgotten now. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t blame Mason for trying to fight his way back into the Agency, for being bitter and angry over everything he had lost, even for lying about the powerful painkillers he was taking.

He couldn’t blame him, because deep down he knew that the two of them weren’t all that different. Neither of them had much outside of their work. Without it, without the purpose and meaning it provided, they were lost.

Giving his friend a look of gratitude, Drake reached out and shook his hand. He couldn’t say what the future held for Mason, but he suspected it was a lot brighter than his own.

‘Good luck, mate. I mean that.’

‘Fuck that,’ Mason advised. ‘You need it more than me.’

The morning sun rose hazy and indistinct over Moscow, its weak rays struggling through a low-lying fog that hung over much of the city as commuters began their daily drive in to work. The streets of Moscow were broad, designed to allow the easy movement of troops in the event of war, but these days they had to contend with little more than congested traffic.

Concealed in the back of a delivery truck that passed unnoticed amongst the thronging multitude, Anya sat in brooding silence, her thoughts turned inwards as she and the three men in the back closed in on their target.

The others had chosen to occupy themselves by checking their weapons were ready, magazines loaded, body armour secured and strapped tight, but Anya did no such thing. She had checked all of her gear in advance, and felt no need to do so again.

Instead she found her thoughts lingering on Drake. The man was as stubborn as he was foolish, and not one to concede defeat to anyone. Was it nothing but pride driving him on? she wondered. Did he really see her as an enemy now, or was there another reason? Was it the same reason she was so afraid to admit, even to herself?

She shook her head, forcing those thoughts away. Such doubts and fears were things she could no longer afford.

Drake couldn’t stop her. No one could. Not now that she was so close to her goal.

Unbidden, the old words that had been hammered into her years earlier resurfaced once more, like the echo of a drumbeat still felt long after it had ceased.

Weakness will not be in my heart. Fear will not be in my creed. I will show no mercy. I will never hesitate. I will never surrender.

Anya clenched her fists as the van jolted over a bump in the road, drawing strength and resolve from the old words that had sustained her through some of her darkest hours. Once more she felt the anticipation and heightened awareness that always came to her at times like this, felt her heartbeat quicken and the blood rush into her muscles.

They were close now.

They would not fail.

Drake had staged operations from some odd locations over the years, but this was the first time he’d worked inside a foundry. The FSB had requisitioned the old building, lying in an industrial park perhaps half a mile from the meeting point, to use as their base of operations and on-site communications hub.

The floor was nothing but bare stone, except for the area around the old furnace where the ground had been laid with tempered bricks to resist the extreme heat. The smelting trays, metal grinders, lathes and other pieces of ancient forging equipment scattered about the room stood in marked contrast to the ultra-modern laptops, encrypted radio units and satellite uplinks that had been hastily set up.

A team of three technicians were attached to the makeshift field station, each busy manning their own terminal. One even had access to the video feeds from an unmanned drone that was circling the target area.

Drake couldn’t see them, but he knew that a couple of armed guards had been stationed outside to ward off curious bystanders, and perhaps more importantly to keep him from venturing outside. Kamarov was taking no chances with him.

This was as close as he was allowed to get to the action. Here, in a dingy, unused old workshop, he was forced to sit and watch Anya meet her end.

Miranova too was in there with him, ostensibly to supervise the operation. In reality, Drake knew that Kamarov had simply brushed her aside, relegating her to an unimportant role where she couldn’t interfere with his plans.

He met her gaze for a moment, seeing the tension and unhappiness in her. She knew as well as he did that she’d been shit-canned. And like him, she wasn’t used to standing idly by while others put themselves at risk.

Drake could feel the vibration of his phone ringing, and a quick check of the screen confirmed his suspicion that it was McKnight. He had sent a text message on the way here advising her and Frost to part company with their FSB escorts and make their way to the US embassy where they would rendezvous with Mason.

He hadn’t expected them to meekly obey, but neither was he prepared to debate the matter. For their own sakes, he needed them to listen to him.

‘Yeah, Sam?’ he began, retreating some distance from the comms station.

‘What the hell is this message all about, Ryan?’ McKnight demanded. She wasn’t one for beating around the bush, he realised. Perhaps all that time spent around Frost was starting to rub off on her. ‘Why do you want us at the embassy?’

He could hear music, voices and tannoy announcements in the background, and guessed she had just disembarked from her flight.

‘Look, I don’t have time to get into it now. I just need you to do it. Cole’s there waiting for you; he’ll explain everything.’

‘Bullshit he will,’ she retorted. ‘I want to hear it from you. What exactly are you planning, Ryan?’

‘There’s something I have to take care of here. That’s all.’

She seemed to understand, or at least guess at what he had in mind.

‘Don’t do it,’ she said, the anger gone from her voice now. ‘Not for her. She’s not worth it.’

Drake closed his eyes. More than most, he regretted the way he’d treated Samantha. She had come through for him every time, had done everything he’d asked of her, yet still he’d managed to let her down.

‘Sam, listen to me,’ he said, speaking low and quiet now. ‘I need you to do this – both of you. Whatever happens, I need to know you’re safe.’

McKnight said nothing for several moments, but he heard a faint exhalation of breath. She was struggling as well, to find a way to say the things she wanted to.

‘What about you?’ she finally asked.

Drake had no words for her. The concern, the compassion, the sadness in her voice was almost more than he could stand. He had made a lot of sacrifices to get this far, had even betrayed people’s trust, but hurting her was the hardest thing of all.

Suddenly, Miranova looked up from the computer terminal she’d been standing over. ‘Kalyuyev is on the move!’ she cried out. ‘We just had word from the field team outside his apartment. He is in his car, heading west.’

Drake’s heartbeat stepped up a gear, the doubts and fears pushed back a little now that the time had come. ‘I have to go, Sam,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry. I mean that.’

Before she could reply, he killed the call and strode over to join Miranova, putting his game face on and doing his best to put his regrets to one side.

‘Do they have eyes-on?’

She nodded. ‘They are in traffic behind him.’

‘Anyone with him?’

Relaying Drake’s question, she waited a few seconds while the reply came through. ‘No. Only Kalyuyev.’

Roman Kalyuyev swore under his breath as he swung the big BMW right, weaving in and out of the slow-moving traffic. It was the early-morning rush hour in Moscow, with commuters everywhere clogging the main roads.

He was getting close now. He could already see the towering obelisk that surmounted Poklonnaya Hill rising up into the morning sky, as if to pierce the very clouds that drifted past.

He could have left his apartment earlier to guarantee a timely arrival for the meeting, but instead had chosen to delay, knowing the heavy traffic would slow him further. His mysterious contact would be expecting him to arrive early, to be eager, desperate for answers. But he would let her wait.