Lone Wolf (24 page)

Moose, sitting in the front passenger seat, looked over at Noah. “Boss, if I didn't hate this son of a bitch so much, I might just start to feel sorry for him.”

“Not me,” Neil said, “this is one case where I'd love to be there and watch when you kill him. The question is, what do we do now?”

“We get to somewhere safe and hunker down for the moment,” Noah said. “I'll check in with Catherine Potts, get her watching the chatter for any sign of Nicolaich, and you're going to get on your computer and do the same. Somewhere out there, there's got to be some sign of him on the Internet. You're going to find it, so that we can get a step or two ahead of him.”

Neil reached back behind the seat and grabbed his laptop case. “I can get started on that right now,” he said. “My computer can tap cell towers for a data connection, so I can start looking. Any idea what I should be looking for?”

“I've been thinking about that. He's not going to risk trying to go through one of the major airports, that would be too obvious. That means he's got another way to get out of the country. Could be a jet on a private airstrip, I suppose, or some smaller airport. I can't imagine he'd want to leave by water, but we might as well check ship departures, just to be safe.”

“I'm thinking air,” Neil said. “He may not know all about you, but he knows you're a deadly sucker. He's going to want to get out of the country fast, I think, not take a chance on you catching up with him. Let me see what I can find.”

“So, where are we headed now?” Moose asked.

Noah glanced at him, and then looked back at the road ahead. “I'm going to London, we need a hotel.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and searched through his call log until he found the number he wanted. He hit the dial button and put the phone to his ear.

“Catherine? It's Alexander Colson. I've got a situation on my hands. I need a hotel room for three of us, all men, somewhere I can hole up and stay out of sight for a little while, something without my name attached to it.” He listened for a moment, then nodded into the phone. “That sounds fine,” he said. “Then I need you to do something else. Nicolaich Andropov was in London, and managed to convince me he was someone else. I thought I had captured and turned him, but this morning I found him gone, Jeremy Pendergrast dead in his bed, and my driver, Sarah, missing. Vladimir Sokoloff says Nicolaich has her, planning to use her as bait to set a trap for me. I need to know anything you hear about Nicolaich, two seconds after you hear it. I don't care how unrelated or mundane it sounds, I want to know everything you can find on the guy.”

He ended the call and looked at Moose. “We're going to the Wee John hotel, a dive place that doesn't ask for identification. She'll have a room waiting for us under the name William Bonner. We'll check in and wait until we have some idea of what to do next.”

“Wee John?” Neil asked. “Let me guess, it has a really tiny bathroom, right?”

Noah shook his head. “No, from what she just said, the name of the hotel refers to a certain part of the anatomy of one of the former Kings.”

“That would be John Lackland, most likely,” Neil said. “He was the younger brother of Richard the First, and inherited the throne when Richard was killed in battle in 1199. He was considered a pretty naughty boy, taking the wives of some of the nobles of his court as his mistresses, and marrying his wife Isabella when she was only nine or ten years old.”

“Ha!” Moose laughed sarcastically. “No wonder he got a naughty nickname.”

“O
kay, I've got something,” Neil said. The three of them had checked into their hotel room four hours earlier, and were sitting on a pair of beds. “There's a diplomatic plane from Georgia that took off twenty minutes ago from RAF Northolt, the British Air Force Base outside London. According to the tower there, only two passengers boarded, a man and a woman. The pilot filed a flight plan to Tbilisi, Georgia's capital, but radioed right after takeoff to change it to Moscow.”

Noah nodded. “That's got to be them. How hard was it to get that information, about the flight plan change? Is that something he would expect us to be able to find?”

Neil looked at him. “I actually doubt it,” he said. “I only got it because I tapped into the tower security video. The air traffic controllers didn't bother to log the flight plan change, I just overheard the conversation between the tower and the pilot.”

Noah was leaning against the wall. “Good, then maybe we know something he doesn't. Have you got a flight number on that? Anything to positively identify that plane when it lands?”

“The plane is an Antonov An-148, registered as a diplomatic aircraft from Georgia. I don't see a flight number, but—just a moment—it looks like there are very few of these aircraft in the air, so it shouldn't be too hard to spot when it lands.”

Noah took out his phone and dialed a number. It seemed to take almost two minutes to get an answer, but finally it went through and he put it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Larry Carson? Good, I thought this was the right number. This is Alexander Colson, remember me?”

“Yes, Mister Colson. How are you doing?”

“Larry, is this line secure?” Noah asked.

“Yes, sir, it is. Go ahead.”

“Larry, I need you to get someone at all of the local airports. You're looking for an Antonov An-148, a Georgian diplomatic plane. If I'm right, two passengers will disembark. One of them is Nicolaich Andropov, and the other is my driver. I need them to be kept under surveillance until I get there. I'll be leaving London within an hour, and I need to know as soon as possible where I should plan on landing.”

“Andropov? Are you serious? Man, he's a ghost! I'm going to get cameras out there to all the airports, no one's ever even gotten a photo of this guy!”

“That's fine, but you may be too late. I have every intention of killing him as soon as I find him.”

“No problem, I'll get on this right now. I'll call you as soon as we spot them. I take it you don't want my people to engage?”

“Absolutely not,” Noah said. “It's a safe bet he'll have an awful lot of security around him, and I think you'd only end up with some dead operatives. This is my specialty, leave this guy to me. Just find a way to keep track of him without tipping him off, and let me know where he goes.”

“You got it, Mister Colson. I'll have a car waiting for you. Do you need any other equipment? Weapons, backup, anything like that?”

“Yeah, give me the same bag of tricks as last time. They might come in handy. Call me as soon as you have the airport, so we can divert if we need to. This phone will work even in the air, so you can reach me.”

Noah ended the call and then dialed another number. “This is Alexander Colson. I need my plane ready to go ASAP. Destination is Moscow, but I'm not sure which airport yet. Go with Sheremetyevo Airport, and if we have to divert to another one, we will.”

Once again he ended the call and looked at Neil and Moose. “Let's get moving. The plane is already fueled and a flight crew will meet us there in thirty-five minutes.”

It took them less than ten minutes to get everything loaded into the Land Rover, and twenty more to make it to Heathrow. Noah parked the car near the private boarding gate and tossed the keys under the seat. He had called Catherine Potts while they were on the way, and she’d assured him she had access to another set of keys and would retrieve the car later.

The flight crew had already arrived, and the boarding steps were open. The three of them hurried up into the plane, carrying their luggage along with them. The copilot took their bags and stowed them in the rear compartment as the flight attendant got them seated and brought them canned soft drinks.

“Are you gentlemen hungry? We have some lovely dinners stocked on board, steak and Chinese vegetables.”

“That sounds good,” Noah said. “We might as well eat now, who knows when we'll get another chance?”

Neil and Moose agreed, but the food had to wait until they were in the air. It took the pilot about twenty minutes to get to cruising altitude, and then the flight attendant began heating the trays in a microwave oven. Within ten minutes, all three of the men were eating, with Moose and Neil telling the flight attendant how delicious the food was.

“Boss?” Neil asked when they finished eating. “Are you doing okay?”

Noah looked over at him in his seat on the other side of the plane. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Oh, I don't know, let's see...” he said. “I just thought maybe since your girlfriend is in the clutches of a homicidal maniac, you might be just a little bit worried.”

Noah stared at him. “I don't worry,” he said. “If Nicolaich were to kill her before we get to him, there's nothing I can do about it. On the other hand, if she's still alive when we get there, I intend to do everything possible to keep her that way.”

Neil made a face that suggested he didn't believe Noah. “Look, Boss, you and Sarah have been together since way back during training. Even you can't possibly be so cold that you're not worried. I mean, hell, if anything happened to Lacey like this, I'd be going nuts.”

Moose, who was sitting directly in front of Neil and facing him, barked a laugh. “Lacey? Good grief, Neil, you only just met the girl a couple nights ago. I don't think it's quite the same thing.”

“Hey, lug nuts, some of us aren't so emotionally stunted that we can't recognize love at first sight! I seem to recall you going head over heels for Elaine pretty quickly, yourself. Trust me, I feel just as strongly about Lacey as either of you does about your girlfriends.” He looked over at Noah. “Okay, maybe more than one of you. The thing is, if it were Lacey or Elaine that Nicolaich had taken, you and I would be falling apart. Old Stoneface over here, he just acts like it's no big deal that Sarah could be dead already.”

“Neil, you know how I am,” Noah said. “It's not my choice, it's just the way things are. A big part of me wishes I could feel things the way you guys do, but right now I think Sarah's chances of surviving this are a lot better with me being just exactly who I am. If I had emotions to get in the way, I’d screw up and get us all killed. That wouldn't help Sarah or anyone else, now would it?”

Moose reached out with a foot and kicked Neil in the leg. “Noah is right,” he said. “If this was you or me, we'd be thinking with our hearts, rather than our brains, and that would make us blow it. The reason he's the boss is because he doesn't make mistakes like that. If Sarah has any chance of coming out of this alive, he's it, and I'm going to do everything I can to help him accomplish it.”

“Ouch! Asshole! Trust me, I want to help, too. Sarah calls me her kid brother, and I feel pretty much like she's a big sister I never had. Anything happens to her, I'm probably going to fall apart. Believe me, that's not something you want to see, it isn't pretty.”

“I'm going to need both of you to help me,” Noah said. “Neil, will your computer work up here?”

Neil grimaced, but nodded. “As long as we're in range of a cell tower, it will. That should cover us for the most part, as long as we're over Europe, but once we get into Russian airspace there won't be nearly as many towers under us. What do you want me to look for?” He reached down beside the seat and grabbed the laptop case, which he always kept close at hand.

“We need a base of operations. Find a rental house somewhere close to Moscow. I'll call Larry Carson and have him arrange it for us.”

Neil opened the case and began tapping the keys on the computer. He scowled for a moment, but then grinned as the computer found a tower to connect through. He was silent for almost five minutes, then looked up at Noah. “I've got one, a private estate about six miles north of Sheremetyevo Airport. On Google Earth, it looks a lot like a small fortress, but it's available for lease and by the week or month. It's open right now.”

Noah took out his phone and called Larry Carson, the E & E station chief in Moscow. He briefly told Larry what he wanted, then passed the phone to Neil so that he could give Larry the information.

“If it's available, I'll get it for you,” Larry said when Neil handed the phone back to Noah. “Call you back in an hour.”

Noah leaned his head back to rest, and Moose and Neil followed suit a few minutes later. None of them actually went to sleep, but they had learned in training to always rest whenever they knew it was safe to do so. The flight attendant left them alone, and they were undisturbed until Noah's phone rang just over an hour later.

“Colson, it's Carson. I went through a local real estate company that we have connections with through the embassy, and arranged to get you the place for a week. If you need it longer, I can extend it, just let me know. I'll have all the relevant information in the car whenever I meet up with you. Oh, and incidentally, that plane you're looking for is coming into Sheremetyevo. It's scheduled to land in about fifty minutes. Shall I meet you there?”

“Yes, we're already set to land there. We'll be about an hour behind them.”

“Good job,” Carson said. “I'll see you then.”

Noah leaned back again, but Moose and Neil were getting fidgety. With nothing else to do, they both sat and stared out the windows at the earth passing by below.

Ninety minutes later, the pilot announced that they were descending as they approached Sheremetyevo Airport. They all fastened their seat belts in preparation for landing, and the plane was on the ground slightly more than half an hour later. As soon as it stopped moving at the private flight gate, the three of them disembarked and headed into the terminal. Since their plane was not on the diplomatic roster, they expected to have to go through customs, but when they got to the customs green line, Larry Carson was waiting. A customs official was standing beside him as they approached, and the two of them were smiling like old friends.

“Alex!” Carson called out. “Alex, it's Larry.” He waited until Noah smiled an acknowledgment and led the others toward him. “Sorry about having to rush you onto a private flight,” he said with a chuckle, “I know how much you love the diplomatic planes. I really appreciate you coming so quickly, though. I got your embassy credentials right here.” He passed an envelope to each of the three men, and they opened them to find embassy ID cards. Each was stamped “Diplomatic Immunity,” and bore their photos and the names that matched their current IDs.