The weather had closed in tight by the time I got the first hint of a signal from Tzorekov’s car. I was pushing hard out of a long valley dipping between mist-shrouded hills when I saw the first flicker. It looked weak at first, growing steadier as the road lifted sharply towards the peaks.
The ground flattened out at the top and dropped slightly after a half mile on the other side, giving me a brief view of trees and a couple of small lakes, and a river snaking away in the distance.
The nearest lake of the two was about a mile away. It had a large clearing just off the road, like a make-do parking lot, and a pontoon floating in the water about thirty yards offshore. I used the scope to check the area and saw a single vehicle sitting beneath the trees near the water. Dark green. A 4WD.
The Touareg.
I checked the map. If Tzorekov had finally got a location for his meeting, maybe this was the place.
I called Lindsay and asked if she could see any buildings in the area. If there was going to be a meeting, it had to be inside somewhere. A quick bird’s-eye view would save me a lot of driving.
‘Got that, Watchman. Nothing in sight. It’s just a lake.’
‘Copy that. Thanks.’
A pause, then: ‘Are you OK, Watchman? That last bit seemed … hairy.’
Hairy. That was one way of describing it. ‘All in a day’s work,’ I said breezily. ‘I wouldn’t have done it without your help, though. That was impressive work. Say, did I say thank you?’
‘I took it as read. And you’re very welcome.’
I sat and watched for a while, feeling the residue of adrenaline after the chase filtering out of my system. I’d seen no signs of activity after leaving the forest track, and figured the men in the GAZ had not called it in for some reason. Maybe they’d got fed up sitting by the side of the road and I was the nominated sucker to be pulled over and hazed to relieve the boredom. Once I was sure they had given up the chase, I’d pulled over and ripped off the decals just in case.
I checked the Touareg again. I could see one man inside but it was too indistinct to tell if it was Tzorekov or Gurov.
Then a slim figure stepped out from the trees. Gurov. He walked over to the passenger side of the Touareg and stood there, presumably talking to his boss, but didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to get back inside. Waiting for somebody, perhaps?
I gave it another twenty minutes to see if they were going to move. Sitting here for too long was crazy. I was still concerned about the helicopter. Without the tracker, the men in the Ansat now had no way of finding the Touareg, but having seen the layout of this region, the very simplicity of the road system and lack of buildings in the area was likely to act against Tzorekov remaining invisible for ever. All the helicopter had to do was follow the more obvious roads and sooner or later they’d get lucky. The lack of moving vehicles alone meant those of us down here would stand out clearly from the sky, and if they had cameras on board, they wouldn’t need to come too low to check out any that looked good.
And if I could see the Touareg, so would the helicopter. Surely Gurov knew that. So what the hell was he playing at?
I got back in the pickup and drifted down the road, keeping an eye on the skyline. I was on a long, winding slope between huge swathes of conifers, and for much of the time it was like being in a sheer-sided tunnel, cutting out a lot of light and most of the horizon. Then I caught a glimpse of water through a clearing, and stopped, backing up a few yards so I had a clear view.
Gurov was still standing by the passenger door, staring out across the lake as if he hadn’t got a care in the world. I could see the wind ruffling his hair and he might have been any city dweller out in the wilds for the day to get some fresh air in his lungs.
But something was wrong; I could sense it from here.
To hell with caution. I drove the rest of the way and entered the approach road to the lakeside, driving slowly. Gurov must have heard me coming but if it bothered him he didn’t show it. He was leaning against the side of the Touareg with his hands in his pockets. I parked beneath the trees and walked across to him. I had my hand on the Grach but something told me I wasn’t going to need it.
He finally turned and watched me approach. He looked relaxed but it was the stance of a man who suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself.
I had a bad feeling and glanced towards the Touareg, where I could just make out Tzorekov sitting in the passenger seat. He looked as if he was asleep.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked Gurov. ‘You know they’re still searching for you.’
He said nothing for a moment, then straightened himself up. ‘It does not matter,’ he said softly. ‘It is over.’
‘What? Have you heard something?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Not that.’ He nodded towards the front of the car and drew in a deep breath. ‘Leonid is dead. A heart attack. A little more than an hour ago.’
I walked over and opened the door. Tzorekov’s skin was grey. His eyes were half-closed and he had a look of something that might have been pain etched into the tilt of his mouth. I checked the pulse in the side of his neck. He was cold.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, as Gurov joined me. He had a faraway look in his eyes and I could see he was hurting. He’d evidently been far closer to Tzorekov than any normal bodyguard, more like a son than an employee. A son who had joined in this crazy journey into Russia that his father had decided was worth a try, come what may because it was important. But having come this far, he’d seen his father die, his wish unfulfilled. No wonder he was in pain.
‘Did you know?’
‘That his heart was bad? Yes. He had been sick for some time but nobody else knew. He insisted on that. He refused to tell them, saying he had one last thing to do.’ He shrugged and added softly, ‘He wanted to come back home. That, too, was part of the sickness, and why I cannot be truly sad for him. But I am sorry he did not accomplish his mission. It was a good thing to want to do.’
‘What will you do now?’ I said.
He stared at Tzorekov and shook his head. He looked thinner than ever in the morning light, his cheekbones prominent and his skin stretched tight with emotion.
‘I don’t know. First I must bury him.’
‘Here?’
He nodded. ‘It is what he would have wanted. Once a Russian, always a Russian. This is his homeland.’
‘And then?’
‘Then I don’t know.’ He leaned into the car and lifted out Tzorekov’s body. For such a slim man it took him no more effort than if it had been a small child, and he did it with the utmost care.
‘Do you want my help?’
‘No. This is for me to do. He would have wanted that. But thank you.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘Leonid was very grateful for what you have done. You have put yourself in great danger for him. For us. I thank you, also, but you should go home now.’
I didn’t say anything, just nodded in acknowledgment.
As he walked away into the trees bearing the body of his boss, I detected a faint rumble in the air. It could have been thunder but I doubted it. Then it became a thudding sound, distant and just about audible, interrupted only by an occasional shift in the wind, but definitely there. I turned and walked out into the open and scanned the horizon, checking the grey skies over the hills and trees. I knew sooner or later that I’d see a dark shape come into view.
I jogged back to the pickup and retrieved the Saiga from its hiding place in the rear bodywork, and slipped in a fresh magazine. I looked for Gurov but he was out of sight.
‘Watchman, come in.’
‘Here, Lindsay. Go ahead.’
‘The beacon signal I saw before is approaching your location. It’s about ten miles out. It appeared out of nowhere. Sorry, I wanted to warn you sooner.’
‘Don’t sweat it. I’m ready for him.’
‘Oh.’ A slight pause while she digested the meaning, then: ‘What’s your situation?’
‘The deal’s off. Tzorekov’s dead.’ I relayed what Gurov had told me. She took the news without reaction, but I knew she’d be hitting buttons in the background. This was a complete game changer and everybody would have to be briefed. She probably had a feed going through to Callahan’s office and was giving him the heads up. No doubt it would throw a few heads in the State Department into a spin, but there was nothing that could be done about it.
Some missions end like that; no winners, no losers, no medals, no gain.
‘Copy that. And the other man?’
‘He’s dealing with it.’
‘What will you do now?’
‘Head for home. Are those Pathfinders out of here?’ I had no doubts that if things got very hot from here on, there would be a lot of attention being thrown this way from the various military facilities in the area. You couldn’t have a firefight even in these remote parts without somebody asking questions.
‘Orders confirmed; they’re on their way.’
The distant thudding had intensified. It became louder and the sound changed as the Ansat popped up over the trees about a mile away and wheeled round towards the lake, sinking towards the water. I didn’t know how they’d found us but logic and a knowledge of the local countryside and roads must have played a part. There wasn’t so much traffic in this area that they could get too easily confused.
‘Gotta go,’ I told Lindsay, and cut the connection. I checked the Saiga’s magazine again out of habit. Full. Made sure the scope was firmly in place and the lens clean. Tight and clear. What I hadn’t done was checked the sights were good, but there was one good way to rectify that.
I sighted on the helicopter. It jumped into view, the two men in the cockpit clearly visible. I scanned towards the side and rear, and a man’s face and shoulders appeared in profile at the door. He looked to be shouting and was pointing forwards, and I realized he’d been given the heads-up by the pilot.
They were coming straight for me.
It was time to get busy.
I aimed at the rotors and fired twice, the rifle jumping with a satisfying jolt against my shoulder. The shots sounded horribly loud in this quiet location, the noise spinning out across the lake and echoing off the trees, making a clutch of birds in the branches behind me fly off in panic, wings beating like someone shaking a newspaper.
I didn’t wait to see the results; I grabbed the Val and turned and ran for the trees on the other side, away from where Gurov had gone.