31 |
31 |Third Ring Road Moscow, Russia
Kane gunned the engine, shooting down the shoulder of the road, horns honking in annoyance as he blazed a trail toward the offramp that should let him intercept his target. It hadn’t been hard to determine what vehicle Minkin had transferred to—it was the one blasting through the gate at the parking garage while gunfire took its toll overhead.
Leroux’s team had retasked the drone to follow it, but time was running out on the small device. He was questioning Morrison’s decision to keep this within the family, despite the CIA now cleared of involvement, and the only thing he could think of was that the man felt guilty about what had happened so long ago.
And he understood the guilt. Morrison had kept his mouth shut. Perhaps if he hadn’t, perhaps if he had told his handlers what had happened, those involved could have been apprehended, and the innocents now dead would still be alive.
But hindsight was always 20/20, and there was no point living in the rearview mirror. Kane as well had done it for too long, blaming himself for a mission gone terribly wrong where women and children had been killed. It hadn’t been his fault. There was no way he could have known, but he had watched it unfold in horrifying clarity through his scope, and had blamed himself for years, drinking himself into oblivion whenever possible, living a life of debauchery when not on duty.
Fang had changed all that. He had confronted his demons and was pushing through them, though his dreams were still on occasion haunted by what he had seen that day.
And he wondered if Morrison was now a haunted man.
Whatever the man might be feeling, he was compromising the mission by not bringing in a full team and the entire resources of the Agency to bear.
“Take a left immediately after you clear the offramp, then an immediate right. That should put you ahead of them.”
“Copy that.”
He was thankful Sonya Tong was on the team. She was excellent in these situations, and was a huge asset to his buddy, who while the best at what he did, couldn’t do everything himself. He executed the turns, hammering on the gas as he surged ahead.
“Okay, traffic is clear. They’re half a mile out from your position. Do whatever it is you’re going to do.”
“Copy that.”
He kept the accelerator floored, the target vehicle in sight ahead, then hammered on his brakes, bringing him to a shuddering halt as he cranked the wheel, blocking both lanes. The target SUV came to a halt only feet from him, four men jumping out, guns drawn as he exited the vehicle, his hands raised.
“Tell Mr. Minkin that his representative from the insurance company would like to talk to him.”
This surprised the men enough to not shoot, and words were exchanged with someone in the back seat. The guard stepped back and Minkin climbed out, a slight smile on his face.
“So, you’re the man Svetlana talked of.”
“I am. She’s quite the woman. I would have assumed you’d be taking her with you.”
He chuckled as he strode slowly toward Kane. “She’ll be sent for, don’t you worry. A woman like that, well, you don’t let get away.”
Kane smiled. “I agree.” He ended the pleasantries. “We’re both in a hurry, so I’ll cut to the chase. I need to know who arranged your meeting to hand over the Novichok. I need to know the name of her uncle.”
“And why should I tell you?”
“Because they’re also targeting a friend of mine, and I intend to stop them. If I succeed, then you’ll be able to rest a little easier.”
Minkin nodded slowly. “This is true. But I think the young lady who tried to kill me won’t be stopped by killing her uncle, nor am I certain he’s behind this.”
“Then there’s no harm in giving me his name.”
“Nor is there any in giving me hers.”
Kane thought for a moment, and only for a moment. She was a murderer, and deserved no protection from him. “Her name is Natasha Ivashin.”
“Interesting. It means nothing to me. I had hoped I might recognize it. It might have explained a few things.”
“And the name of the uncle?”
Minkin regarded him for a moment. “Surely, if you know her name, you can figure that out yourself?”
Kane shook his head. “She has no uncle.”
Minkin’s eyebrows rose. “Very interesting. Now, why lie about that?” He tapped his chin. “I’m going to give you the name, American, as long as you tell me one thing.”
Kane frowned. “And what’s that?”
“Who do you work for?”
Kane smiled slightly. “I told you, I’m with your insurance company.”
Minkin chuckled. “Bullshit. You’ve got Agency written all over you.”
“If you’re so sure, why bother asking.”
“I just wanted to be certain.” He turned, heading back to his vehicle and his impatient security detail. He glanced back at Kane. “The man you’re looking for is Cheslav Aristov.” He began to climb inside when he paused. “And CIA, be careful. He’s a powerful man.”
“Thank you.” Kane held up a finger. “One more thing.”
“What?”
“You gave the briefing, but you weren’t in charge, were you?”
“No.”
“Do you know who was?”
“I don’t know his name, but he was in the room. Figure out who everyone was, and you’ll figure out who’s behind all this.”
Minkin shut the door and Kane climbed back in his vehicle, Minkin’s already steering past him, the few cars blocked, too scared to honk their horns with all the guns on display, inching past. And as he headed back toward central Moscow, a smile spread.
They finally had a name that might lead somewhere.