Chapter Twenty-one

 

 

Moscow, Russia

December 4, 8:15 p.m.

 

Justin woke up because of an icy shiver racing down his spine. It felt like a sharp knife. His eyes saw a vaulted ceiling with exposed, heavy beams like a log cabin’s. A recessed ceiling light flooded brightly down on his face. This is a dacha. I’m somewhere in a forest. Outside Moscow? How long have I been out?

He noticed he was lying in a hard bed without a pillow. Someone had stripped all his clothes from the upper part of his body but they had left his pants and shoes on. He lifted his head and moved his hands at the same time. They were fastened each to a side of his bed with handcuffs that cut into the skin of his wrists. His feet were also cuffed around the ankles. His eyes took in the expanse of the room. It was sparsely furnished, with a large stove at one corner and a couple of couches next to it, in front of tall floor lamps that gave out dim, yellow light. The stove was not on and the cabin was cold. Another shiver ran through his body.

He turned his head to the other side. A wooden door and a small barred window. It was dark outside the window and snow crystals swirled around the bottom corners. Two thin slivers of light came from a distance. Headlights. Someone’s outside. Where am I? Where are Carrie and Becca?

A loud metallic rattle came from outside, then the door opened with a noisy creak. A man Justin did not recognize entered the room. He had thick eyebrows that met over his hooked nose. “You awake, you CIA loser?” he said in English. He stepped closer and yanked Justin’s head up by the hair.

Justin clenched his teeth and endured the manhandling in silence. He was not going to give this thug the pleasure of seeing him writhe in pain.

“Yeah, you awake. Time you see my boss.”

He moved behind the bed and out of Justin’s sight. Justin heard electronic beeps of a few buttons, then the thug began talking to someone on a cellphone.

“Yes, yes, he’s awake. He’s doing well, sir,” the thug said in Russian, then slapped Justin’s face.

It was not intended to hurt him but to humiliate him.

“Yes, he’ll be ready. Oh, okay. I understand very well, sir.”

The thug shut his cellphone with a click, then walked around the left side of Justin’s bed. “My boss, Mr. Derzhavin, is on his way to see you now,” he said in Russian. “Don’t go anywhere.” He laughed.

Justin’s face remained locked in a deep frown.

“Why aren’t you smiling? You don’t find my joke funny? Fucking Americans have no sense of humor.” He shook his head, then walked to the door. He gave Justin and the room a last glance, then stepped outside and locked the door behind him.

Justin sighed and shook his head. He tried to organize the information he had learned so far. He had been knocked out for quite some time, since it was now evening or night. A thug and perhaps another one or more were outside waiting for Derzhavin. So these were the men of the FSB, not military intelligence as Max would have them believe. He had no idea where Carrie was or if she was even alive. Becca had not looked very good when he had last seen her at the safe house.

Max was supposed to be working for the CIA but instead he was a double agent.

Justin was kicking himself for being fooled in such a devastating way.

I should have trusted my gut.

He repeated the same thought over and over again as he counted the seconds and then the minutes. Time slowed to a painful crawl as he awaited his unknown fate, the wind howling and beating against the walls of the log cabin.

 

* * *

 

The door creaked and Justin cast a disinterested, almost dismissive glance in that direction. He had no illusions about who was going to walk in. He had been in similar situations before, stripped naked and strapped to a wall or a bed, waiting for his torturers to bring in the pain. A lot of pain. He had no reason to believe things were going to be different this time. One of the Moscow rules said to never get caught. If caught, then pray.

The same thug was the first man to step inside the cottage. He tried to intimidate Justin with a fierce glare but Justin stared back, determined not to allow this prick to have the upper hand. They may break my body, but not my soul.

Derzhavin followed behind the thug. He looked even unhappier than when Justin had first seen him, but this time Justin figured Derzhavin had a reason to be grouchy. He had to work late, drive to this remote frozen cottage, and deal with Justin, this new crisis in his hands.

The last man to cross the doorstep was Max. A victorious grin swept across his face. He stayed at a respectful distance behind Derzhavin, deferring to his boss’s authority.

Justin shook his head. The trusted dog wagging his tail behind his owner. The bastard.

“Mr. Hall, we meet again.” Derzhavin walked up to Justin’s bed. He stopped next to Justin’s right hand, reached for the handcuffs and tested them by pulling on one of them.

Justin winced as the sharp steel dug into his skin. “I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you,” Justin replied in a firm voice as he held Derzhavin’s black eyes. The man was still wearing the gray suit and white shirt he had had on at their meeting. He had removed his tie and had put on a heavy brown coat.

“Do you think I have mastered the English language, Mr. Hall?” Derzhavin gave Justin a quizzical look.

Justin did a double take, then looked at Max, who simply shrugged.

Derzhavin said, “You have trouble understanding my words. I asked you specifically not to interfere with our work. You did not grasp the meaning of interfere.” He stressed the last word more than necessary, breaking it into two parts.

Justin nodded slowly. “You’re right. I did not realize at that time that you were lying through your teeth. You had the courier in custody but gave us the impression he was still at—”

“And I ordered you not to start any operation in my home city, in my homeland—”

“Yes, but you’re forgetting something very important, sir,” Justin interrupted him.

“Oh, and what is that?”

“I don’t get orders from you.”

Derzhavin stepped closer to Justin’s face, so close Justin could feel the man’s tobacco-tainted breath.

“You may not, but here you are, resigned to my will and command.” Derzhavin pulled hard on Justin’s right handcuff.

He winced, snapped his jaw, and tightened his muscles. A muted groan escaped his lips as the metal twisted his wrist and his hand.

Derzhavin said, “You will stay here out of my way and cause no trouble until we have completed our investigation.”

Justin took in a deep breath and said, “I don’t think so.”

Derzhavin cocked his head to the left and stepped back. “I don’t think you fully comprehend the gravity of your situation, Mr. Hall. You are tied up here and will not be going anywhere until I decide so.”

“Let me give you two options, Mr. Derzhavin. The first one is to let me go right now along with Carrie and Becca, and the information Bashir, the courier, was giving us. The second one—well, you don’t pick the first option and I get out of here, killing everyone who tries to stop me.”

Derzhavin’s face drew back in a sign of surprise. “Oh, you have a keen sense of humor mixed with unabashed arrogance. I like your resolve. Even when you’re down and defeated you don’t give up.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Justin replied.

“Oh, you’re welcome. Let me clarify something and in the process dash your hopes for a swift rescue.” Derzhavin moved away from Justin’s bed and paced around the room. “We have detained your dear friend, Fyodor. He was too busy following Max to the safe house to notice our surveillance behind him and around the apartment. Too bad for you.”

Justin tried to keep a blank face, unaffected by Derzhavin’s biting words. But the truth stung as it sank in that rescue was not going to arrive any time soon, if ever. He would have to rely on himself to break out of this captivity. But he could not allow Derzhavin to even think he had beaten him.

“I have no idea who this person is, and he’s not the one I called and who could organize a rescue,” Justin said with an unmistakable hint of contempt in his voice. He cast a triumphant gaze at Derzhavin’s face, then his eyes moved to Max. “You see, I have friends, powerful friends, in Moscow.”

“I wouldn’t consider Mr. Romanov your friend,” Derzhavin replied then turned his head. He was looking out of the window. “That snake of a man is ready to bite you if you drop your guard for only a moment. And these rich businessmen believe that their blood-soaked dollars can buy favors from anyone. Well, not from me. And we know you placed no call to him since you left our offices earlier today.”

So it has been only a few hours.

“You have no way of tracing all calls I made or identifying the people I called.” Justin had contacted only Fyodor, and his tactic of outplaying Derzhavin relied solely on creating the opposite perception. “You’re fooling yourself into believing you know everything about what I’ve done or will do.”

“That’s true. But we know who you are. See, Mr. Hall, I’ve been around a little longer than you have, and I have a couple of tricks up my sleeves, old as they may be.” Derzhavin turned around and marched toward Justin. He wore a pompous grimace and his eyes carried a glint of superiority, the look of a man holding a royal flush in a poker game. “It’s not about knowing what the man does, it’s about knowing who the man is. And I know who you are.

After leaving our headquarters and dodging our surveillance team, you felt no need to risk increased exposure. You called Fyodor on one of your disposable cellphones to provide you an exit point. But you did not calculate on Max’s meeting you at Gorki Park.” Derzhavin motioned toward Max with his right hand, a firm, confident gesture.

Justin looked at Max, who gave a small shrug.

“No other calls came from your cellphone or the other cellphones in the possession of your team. We checked,” Max said.

“But you have no way of knowing if those were the only phones we ever had or used, right?” Justin said in a dubious voice.

Derzhavin shot him back a wild grin. “Excellent try, but we both know this—this is all a bluff.”

Justin shook his head. “If you think so.”

“I do, and bluffs don’t intimidate me.”

Justin decided to change tactics. “How is Carrie doing?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Your partner? She wounded two of my men as they entered the safe house. She’s not faring that well at the moment.”

Justin rattled his handcuffs and gave his body a strong jolt. His flexed his chest muscles and rumbled like a trapped beast. The handcuffs remained in place, scraping deeper into his skin. Justin felt a trickle of blood running down the fingers of his right hand. “You will pay for any harm you’ve done to her, you little—”

“You’re in no position to make threats, Mr. Hall,” said Derzhavin. “And if you keep up this defiance, I might just decide to kill her right away.”

“You’ll do no such thing—”

Derzhavin pulled a pistol from a holster on his left side. He racked back the slide, chambering a round, then shoved the muzzle against Justin’s forehead. “Because you will stop me, right?”

Derzhavin cocked his gun.

Justin stared deep into his eyes. He could not tell if Derzhavin was bluffing. The Russian’s black eyes were narrow and his face was full of hate and rage.

This may be the end, Justin thought.

He drew in what he felt was going to be his last breath.

A tense few moments felt like an eternity, then Derzhavin flicked the safety switch back into place.

“I hate to say this,” he said with true disappointment, “but you may prove to be useful, at least to my superiors.” He drew back his gun and holstered it. “However, if you attempt to escape, Oleg here will have no choice but to shoot you.” He nodded toward the thug who was standing and smirking to Justin’s left. “You understand that?”

Justin decided to cooperate and perhaps learn something useful for his escape. “Why would you do it?”

“Why would I do what?” Derzhavin asked.

“Why would Max betray Becca? Why would he kill her?”

“I did not kill her. It was an accident. A terrible accident which would have not happened if you had listened when I told you not to move.”

“Why did you betray Becca?”

Max shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? She thought I could be bought. She thought I could become a traitor, betray my Russian motherland for a fistful of dollars. The nerve of that woman and the CIA. They always think all people are things that can be bought and sold at a price. Well, she picked the wrong man.”

“I’m not really convinced that’s the whole truth.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Max said and spread his arms in a sign of dismissal. “Spies like you come to Moscow and think you can slap us around and order us to fulfil your every wish. You come here with a proud swagger, expecting everyone to bend backwards for you. You forget Russia is still a superpower, now even more powerful when the ‘great’ United States of America is crippled by trillions of dollars of debt to China and torn apart because of racial hate and division. We will remind you we’re still as mighty and as strong as the days of the Cold War.”

Justin grinned. “Wonderful speech for your supporters at a political rally. But I don’t care about politics. I want the list of names and the e-mail accounts that Bashir began to give us when you broke into the safe house.”

Derzhavin shrugged. “I may or may not get you that information. Now, I have some important issues to attend to, something about terrorists plotting to blow up our airports. Just wanted to leave you with the thought that whatever you were planning, it blew up in your face and landed you here.” He tapped the side of the bed. “You’d be smart to stay here until I’m finished, and then we’ll speak again.” Derzhavin headed towards the door.

“No, wait, I can help you. We can find and fight—”

“You’ve ‘helped’ enough. Do svidaniya.” Derzhavin waved his goodbye.

Max followed him without as much as a last glance at Justin.

Oleg made an I-am-keeping-an-eye-on-you sign by raising his left hand to his eyes, then pointed his hand at Justin and pulled the imaginary trigger.

Justin dropped his head back to his bed and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and tried to think positive thoughts. Keep calm and carry on. The worst is over. Make a plan and get out of this hellhole.