29 |

Approaching Ulitsa Pererva Parking Garage
Moscow, Russia

 

“Tell me everything.”

Minkin eyed Boykov for a moment as their vehicle continued to jerk left and right, the driver expertly guiding them through Moscow traffic. There wasn’t much time before they would undoubtedly switch vehicles, as every minute they remained in this truck placed them at risk as word spread across the city of what had just happened.

And the moment they switched vehicles, his association with Boykov would be over.

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know who the hell is trying to kill me.”

“Some woman, is my understanding.”

“But who is she?”

“She’s the niece of Cheslav Aristov. That’s all I know.”

“Niece? Why the hell does she want to kill us?”

“I have no idea.”

“Is it her uncle who wants us dead, and he’s using her to do it?”

Minkin shrugged. “I don’t know, but I doubt it. He’s powerful enough to use professionals, not family.”

Boykov frowned. “Then it has to be something else. Who was in the room?”

Minkin shook his head. “You know as much as I know. There were six men with no names.”

“Let’s narrow it down. We were both there, and we’re obviously not trying to kill ourselves. You ordered me after the meeting to kill our agent who was going to let me in the building, which I did. That leaves three. Who was the American?”

“I don’t know. All I know was that he was CIA and trusted. And he did his part. I also know the KGB agent assigned to the CIA agent who tried to stop you, was the target of the Novichok attack in England. His name is Igor Kulick.”

Boykov’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t know. So that means whoever is behind this knows more than those who were only in that room. I had no idea about him until just now.” His eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”

“Because I had to clean up the mess after the fact. I led the team that cleaned up the bodies, and saved your life, I might add.”

Boykov eyed him. “It sounds to me like you were in charge.”

Minkin shook his head. “No, it was only meant to look that way. I was following orders.”

“Whose orders?”

“I don’t know.”

“Were they in the room?”

Minkin hesitated. He knew more than he was saying, though not much. Fear was probably the motivating factor in keeping him silent, yet did it matter? He was about to disappear where no one could ever find him. Did he really need to keep the secret he had held for so many years any longer?

He regarded Boykov for a moment. The man was old, older than him, and he sensed no fear whatsoever. His motivation was clear. Self-preservation. And would having a man like this, out there trying to stop whoever was behind this, be a bad thing? If he did succeed in eliminating the guilty party, then life might be a little less stressful.

“Sir, we’re here.”

Minkin peered out the windows to see they were inside a parking garage, another vehicle idling nearby as the doors were opened. He stepped outside, Boykov following. He was led by the arm to the waiting vehicle, the door already open, new personnel inside. He turned to Boykov. “Yes, the man who gave me my orders was in the room.”

“And he selected me to be the shooter?”

“Yes.”

“Did you really know any of what was going on?”

Minkin grunted. “I had been briefed the day before. I knew almost nothing, and expected to be eliminated myself.”

“Why didn’t they?”

“I think they wanted someone to blame if it ever came to light. They certainly made it look like I was in charge, didn’t they?”

Boykov nodded, his lips pursed. “I certainly thought so.”

“Exactly. But I’ll let you in on a little secret, not that it will help you, since we don’t know their names. The one who briefed me?”

“Yes?”

Gunfire erupted, multiple shots in rapid succession blasting apart the concrete where they stood. Minkin dove in the back of the idling vehicle and it peeled away, leaving Boykov and the rest behind. He spun in his seat, staring out the rear window as he watched Boykov collapse, gripping his chest, the rest of his team, weapons drawn, attempting to find the shooter as they were torn apart.

Suddenly, those that remained began firing in the same direction, their target located.

 

Natasha continued to fire, her blood boiling at the sight of the still breathing Boykov. How the bastard had survived the collapse of an entire apartment building while living on the top floor was beyond her, yet there he stood, as plain as day, without a scratch on him.

And her plan had changed.

Boykov was a nobody. He could disappear into the woodwork and never be found again. In fact, she had no idea how Uncle Cheslav had managed to find him in the first place, but finding him again might prove impossible.

Minkin, on the other hand, was probably the most wanted man in Russia now. He’d likely be captured at some point by the authorities, and she could target him again.

So, she had shot Boykov, and put several more bullets into his body just to make sure.

The helicopter banked away as what remained of Minkin’s team finally spotted her, the open air parking garage having provided her with a clean shot, and the powerful weapon the distance to leave the chopper unnoticed long enough for her to find her target.

She packed up her weapon and sent a message to her uncle on the secure tablet.

And he replied immediately.

I’ve found the American. I’ve sent you instructions. Good luck.