January's Child: Robert Walker - Book 1
Date: 2022-02-06 08:00:00+00:00

JANUARY'S CHILD

NEIL HOWARTH

For Gigi.

In good times, and difficult times, always there

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

CHAPTER ONE

WASHINGTON D.C. NOVEMBER 1991

One month before the fall of the Soviet Union.

It had begun to snow again. He stood at the window, peering past the edge of the closed curtains. It was already dark, but the streetlights illuminated all for him to see, despite the falling snow. His name was Matt Sterling, though the name was fiction, like most of his life.

The cars had arrived an hour ago, standing out, stark against the white backdrop. There were two vehicles, black Suburban SUVs, one directly across from the house, another farther down the street. They were not hiding their presence, but it seemed they were prepared to sit and wait. The snow had settled on the roof of the one across the road, but the hood was clear. The engine was still running. They were keeping warm — or ready for action.

A figure hurried past the end of the driveway, dressed in a pink parka with the hood up. He recognized their next door neighbor, Alice, despite not being able to see her face. She was being dragged along by an energetic bull terrier. His name was Monty, and when Monty decided he wanted to go out, rain or shine, or snow, Alice took him.

He could see her look towards the SUV parked directly across from the driveway. Knowing Alice, by the time she reached the corner, she would call the cops. She was not a trusting soul, seeing conspiracy and threat hidden in every shadow, which was interesting, seeing as she had lived next door to them for the past ten years.

If the occupants of the vehicle across the street were who he thought they were, the cops would not be coming.

The streetlights caught the swirl of the falling snowflakes as the wind gusted in off the Potomac, like dancing moths mesmerized in their orange glow. He had a sudden memory of when he was a child. He remembered it clearly. It was his twelfth birthday. His father had taken him out to a snow filled forest, a two hour drive outside Moscow. It was a dark, forbidding place, famous for its brown bears and wild wolf packs, like something out of one of the scary bedtime stories his grandfather used to tell.

His father had said, if they were lucky, they might find the odd Sika Deer that had wandered too far south. He had seemed happy on that day. Hunting together was not something that happened often, his father rarely had the time, so he relished every moment when they did. He remembered that time clearly, because it turned out to be their last.

He was unsure why he remembered it now. It had snowed many times since, and his father had been gone a long time. But today was different. Today, the memory was a vivid image in his head.

He could still remember the kill that day. He had made it. It was only a scrawny snow rabbit, but he still remembered his father’s smile and the reassuring squeeze of his hand on his shoulder.

His father had shown him how to skin and clean it, then cook it over an open fire. He could still recall his father’s words as he had taken his first bite, the grease trickling down his gray bearded chin.

‘We should only kill what we can eat.’

If only life had stayed like that.

But that was not to be. Another occasion slipped into his mind. It was almost twenty years ago, but more relevant to today. It had been snowing then.

They had stood before the Colonel’s desk, in his spacious office, with its logs crackling and glowing in the fire grate, and its view over a snow laden Lubyanka Square. The statue of Iron Felix stood in the center, as if making it clear what they had to do.

It was also the day they had first met.

Her name was Irena, though that name was to be forgotten the moment they stepped out of the office. As was his own. From that moment on, they would be Matt and Helen Sterling, citizens of the United States of America.

He still remembered her standing there, stiff and erect. And how beautiful she looked, despite the drab gray uniform. He could still hear the Colonel’s words. He had made it clear to the two of them. Their task was of the utmost importance, crucial to the security of the motherland. It was about the greater good, about loyalty and dedication — and sacrifice.

He caught a movement outside. Another vehicle moved into view and stopped behind the SUV parked across the street. He gripped the Glock 19 with its sound suppressor attached. No sense in waking the neighbors. Though he couldn’t speak for the visitors.

“They’re coming.”

He looked across at his wife. She sat on the sofa, a chilled glass of her favorite Chablis on the glass topped table in front of her. She had swept back her raven hair in a short ponytail, exposing her excellent bone structure. There was the odd splash of gray that she never tried to hide, and her face had a slight trace of makeup. It was all she ever needed. She was wearing the red dress, the one she saved for special occasions. The one he loved so much. She was still beautiful, after all these years, after everything they had been through.

They had received the warning a couple of hours before. It could have come anytime in the past twenty years. But now, after all that had taken place, it was inevitable. They could have left then, but they would not have gotten far. They would have been already watching the house. And besides, they would lose all control from that point, and others needed to be protected. The plan was already in place. Now they had to let it play out.

He glanced back out of the window.

Two men carrying assault rifles and wearing vests, presumably Kevlar, with FBI stenciled across the front, were moving up the driveway. Another two were hanging back a little. There would be others out on the street and round the back of the house. He checked the load on the Glock for the umpteenth time. He had to be sure.

He turned to look at his wife.

“I love you,” he said.

She gave him the smile again. The stress was showing a little, but she carried it well. “I wouldn’t change a single minute.” Her voice was faint but clear.

If only we had more minutes. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

He took a last look out the window, then crossed the room and stepped up close to her.

“Will they be all right?” She had a troubled look in her eye.

“Don’t worry, Eleanor will take good care of them.”

She nodded and closed her eyes. He bent forward and kissed her forehead. The sweet aroma of Eau de Joy tugged at his senses and all of his memories. Tears stung his eyes.

In that moment, he was no longer Matt Sterling, the persona he had inhabited for the past twenty years. He was once again Major Pyotr Ivanovich Rostov. It was the only way he could do this. He took a last look at his beautiful Irena. He had a last fleeting thought.

Had it all been worth it?

He didn’t wait to ponder it further.

“It’s time.” He wasn’t sure if he had said it out loud.

He lifted the Glock and placed it close to her head without touching it. He held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

CHAPTER TWO

PRESENT DAY

She spotted her prey moving through the trees. They had cleared the asphalt track of snow, and she now had an unrestricted view of him as he reached the bottom of the hill. He was wearing a dark blue tracksuit and moved well for a man who had recently reached seventy. He was in good shape, too. She could see that. The rugged movie star looks, which had been his political trademark, were clear in the winter morning sunshine.

The girl was pretty, her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, just the way she had been instructed. They knew what he liked. The jogging top she wore was tight enough to make all her important parts stand out. She glanced back down the track. His Secret Service detail was jogging along, ten yards further back, under clear instructions. She knew all about ‘Gorgeous George’ O’Connell, the Vice President of the United States, and his penchant for picking up pretty girls on his morning run.

She jogged down the path and emerged as the Vice President appeared. She smiled as if recognizing him for the first time, then stumbled and collapsed on to the track.

“Hey, are you okay?” The Vice President reached her, panting slightly, and knelt beside her.

His security detail arrived at that moment, guns already drawn.

“It’s okay boys,” he held up an arm. “The lady just had a slight tumble.” Then she had his complete attention. “Now then, let’s take a look.”

“It’s my ankle. I kinda went over on it.” She looked up into the Vice President’s handsome face and smiled. “I feel a little stupid and just a little embarrassed. I saw you coming, then I recognized you, then I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He took a hold of her arm. “Now let’s see if you can stand.”

The girl got gingerly to her feet, keeping tight hold of the President. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Can you walk on your own?”

“It’s a little tender.”

“Where do you live?”

“Just across the way.” She pointed to a row of houses overlooking the road that ran along the edge of the park.

“Come on. I’ll help you get home.” The Vice President nodded to his security detail, then walked along with her, a firm arm around her waist, her arm around his shoulders, and she semi-limping along.

They reached the far side of the park. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you. I just feel bad for ruining your run.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“Can I offer you and your men a cup of coffee?”

“Well, that’s mighty nice of you.” He glanced at his watch. “Maybe I’ve got fifteen minutes.”

She flashed him a promising smile. “Well, come inside.”

The Vice President looked over towards his security details. “Guys, wait for me out here. I won’t be long.”

“Sir.” The head of his detail spoke up. “Check first.”

The Vice President nodded and looked at the girl. “Sorry, security protocol.”

Ten minutes later, the two of them disappeared inside her apartment. Two security men followed to stand outside the door, the rest stood around outside the building. They’d been here before.

* * *

Ten minutes after that, the Vice President and the girl were in bed, naked. The VP was moaning softly as the girl worked her magic. She was mounted on top of him, gently writhing back and forth. She reached under the pillow. Her fingers closed around an object she had placed there earlier, while the VP was in the bathroom. She reached back and laid it on the bedsheet behind her, then gently slipped her hand between his legs, letting her fingers gently titillate the area beneath his scrotum, exploring the erogenous nooks and crannies. The Vice President groaned.

“You like that?” She knew he did. It was all in the brief. She smiled and reached behind her, her fingers closing around the small auto-inject syringe. She jabbed it quickly into the base of his blood swollen penis, and the auto-inject did its job, sending the contents quickly into his bloodstream and up towards his rapidly beating heart.

“Ow, carefully honey.”

“I’m sorry, are you alright?”

The Vice President smiled, then seemed to freeze into a tight teethed grimace. He tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t work. The last thing he saw was the girl’s beautiful face and her magnificent breasts swinging above him.

The girl jumped off the bed, the syringe still in her hand. She crossed over to the bedroom window and opened it. This was the rear of the building. Directly below was a large plant pot, now covered in snow. She dropped the syringe, as she had practiced several times before. It fell directly into the tub. She closed the window but stood a moment, as a dark hooded figure appeared out of the shadows below, reached into the tub, then hurried off along the path.

The girl pulled on a bathrobe, then headed for the living room. She ran over and opened the front door. The two security men were standing in the hall.

“Boys,” she said, a distinctly worried look on her face. “I think the Vice President has a problem.”

CHAPTER THREE

The Barracuda sat out there, on the edge of his vision, like a pale green ghost floating in the murk. The depth was no more than thirty feet, but already the bright morning sunshine no longer penetrated down this far. Still, he could make out certain details. The creature had to be six feet long, with a pointed head and a characteristic large under bite, lined with rows of sharp-edged fangs.

The divemaster held up a hand, and his class glided to a halt behind him. He studied the beautiful creature, as it appeared to be studying him. There were beautiful moments in diving, like this chance encounter. He knew this snake-like beast with laser fast reflexes could rip him apart in seconds. He also knew attacks were rare, but there was always a first time.

He checked back on his class and gave them the thumb and forefinger circled, OK sign. His daughter, Nikki, though only thirteen, had been diving since she was five years old and was also a divemaster, gave him the okay sign back. It was the school holidays and she would be back next week, so he was making the most of it.

She was shepherding Helmut, the overweight man from Munich. Helmut was an air guzzler, which he quaffed in unbelievable quantities, like downing beer at the Oktoberfest. Which meant his air bottle was usually getting dangerously low halfway through the class. So he and Nikki took turns in giving him their buddy mask, the spare air line each diver had on their air tank, to supplement his air supply..

Helmut’s wife, Elga, was just the opposite, following the divemaster’s instructions and treating her time in the water like meditation, seemingly sipping her air supply like fine tea.

The other couple were in their mid twenties, on honeymoon from New York. The divemaster reckoned the man would be the first one to panic. He could see it in his eyes, despite the mask. That’s why he kept him close. He gave him a gentle, flat wave of his hand.

Keep it calm.

They all settled down, resting on their knees on the fine sand about thirty feet below the surface, close to where the seabed fell steeply away, descending rapidly into the darkness.

The divemaster gave his attention back to the Barracuda. It was still studying him, still hovering over the abyss. It seemed a little closer now, its silver white underbelly and its dark green back now clearer. He could see its eyes, like black marbles, fixed upon his own face. Then it moved, with a wild slash of its tail, and disappeared into the gloomy depths.

He turned back to his class and gave them the okay sign once more. He pointed at Nikki, then raised a thumb towards the surface. Nikki gave him the OK sign, then led the way, Otto the large German like an enormous whale beside her, and slowly began to ascend.

They made a safety stop at about fifteen feet, not really necessary at the depth they had been, but good diving practice for the class. The divemaster took out a small inflatable buoy from his dive bag, and unrolled it, it was about three feet long. He filled his lungs with air, then removed his mouthpiece and blew into the open end of the buoy, inflating it into a long narrow tube. He clipped the line from the end of a fishing reel to the buoy, then released it, watching it rise quickly to the surface. Ari on the dive boat, would see it and head towards them.

He checked with each member of his class and got the OK sign back. Apart from Louis, he was the New Yorker. All along, he knew he would be the problem. Louis was swaying against the current and his head was down, searching, seeking out some monster in the dark depths. The divemaster waved a hand in front of Louis’s mask. The New Yorker’s head came up, his eyes, two wide black holes, and from the way his breather was pumping, he was rapidly approaching the edge. The divemaster put a steadying hand on Louis’ shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. He waved a flat hand gently in front of his mask. Louis looked at him, panic a heartbeat away. His breather quivered as he took another deep breath, then nodded. The dive master gave him the OK sign.

He looked across at Nikki and pointed at her with his outstretched forefinger, then once more raised his thumb towards the surface. She nodded and slowly headed for the surface, taking the class with her. He patted Louis on the shoulder and the New Yorker followed them up.

Robert Walker looked down into the depths, as if the darkness was tugging at him, tempting him down. He pulled away his gaze and looked up to the light streaming into the water above him, and to Nikki just as she reached the surface. He grinned, the regulator still in his mouth, then gave a powerful single kick with his flippers and followed her up.

The dive boat was already alongside the marker buoy. Ari’s face grinned down at him as he broke clear. He pulled up his mask and treaded water as each member of the class climbed the rear ladder and scrambled aboard. He waited for Nikki to grab the ladder, then followed her up.

CHAPTER FOUR

The island of Narkos lay a hundred miles south of the Greek mainland, nestled in the Cyclades islands. It was late February, the Aegean Sea was not at its warmest, but with a wet suit it was perfectly fine for diving, and at almost noon, the sun shone bright in a clear blue sky with the temperature a pleasant twenty three degrees Celsius.

“Hey Louis, you did good down there.”

The New Yorker grinned. “I almost lost it.”

“But you didn’t. That’s what’s important. When you’re down there, a moment of panic can mean tragedy. Knowing it’s happening and keeping your head is what’s important. Sometime’s it’s good to go to the edge and know that you came back.” He patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll be all right.”

He turned back to the rest of the group. “Nice one team. We were lucky today. I can tell you the opportunities to see such a beautiful specimen at close range are rare.”

“Were you not scared?” Helen, Louis’ wife, asked.

Walker smiled and caught Louis’s eye. “Fear’s good, it sharpens your senses.”

The dive boat cleared the breakwater and moved into the tiny harbor. The dive shop was on the quay. Ari brought her alongside and willing hands tied her up.

The boys started unloading the gear.

“Same time tomorrow.” Walker waved at the departing divers.

“I’m going to Elli’s.” Nikki was already on the quay. Walker looked at her and smiled. She was turning fourteen in a couple of months. She had always been tall for her age, but kind of gangly. Now her shape was changing. Every day, the little girl was fading away, bit by bit. She was becoming a woman. She had her mother’s chestnut hair trimmed short, just the way that Maya had, and her dark eyes. Sometimes he looked into those deep pools and he could see Maya standing there.

“I’m going to get the barbecue going. Andreas said he’d save me something special from the morning catch.”

She gave him a smile that seemed to spark a glow in her hazel brown eyes, then headed back along the quay.

“Be back in an hour,” he called after her.

Nikki waved a lazy hand.

Walker felt the glow that had begun that first time he had held her, when she was minutes old. It had never gone away. He watched her climb on her pink bicycle and pedal away along the dock. He felt a tug at his heart. The mid-term break was coming to an end. Next week, she would be back at school. She went to an international school in Piraeus and lived in during the week. They FaceTimed every day, and she came home on weekends, but it was not the same.

He wandered into the dive shop. The boys were both divemasters and could handle the afternoon dives. So he headed out.

‘Koukla’ was moored in the fish dock. Despite the name, which means beautiful girl in Greek, she was a fat beamed caïque, with a big ass and a long narrow bow. The boat had been built by his friend Andreas’ father and grandfather, from a picture in the older man’s head. The wheelhouse seemed like an afterthought, plonked on the rear deck like an outside toilet.

A man with curly grey hair tied back in a flowing ponytail, appeared from inside and stepped onto the deck. Walker half expected to hear the toilet flushing. The face behind the generous silver beard was weather beaten to a burnt sienna. He was a good twelve inches shorter than Walker and perhaps another ten years older.

“Andreas, how was the catch?”

The older man smiled a craggy smile. “I can’t complain.”

Andreas rarely did. He had a lifetime, and those of his ancestors, to know when and where to drop the nets. Walker stepped on to the deck. He had spent many happy hours aboard this craft, laying nets, trawling for the fish, then hauling them in. Then they would sit out on the deck gutting the fish and casting the entrails to the waiting armada of seabirds as they head for port. Simple, honest work. There was a time when he needed the distraction.

The fisherman waved him over to a stack of deep plastic trays piled up on the deck, brimming with the morning catch. The two young men who crewed for him were unloading the trays and loading them into a rusty white van, ready for transport to the fish market.

“Here we are, Nikki’s favorite.”

Andreas had set aside a plastic tray. The red mullet were perfect, pink and plump with bright silver bellies. Andreas scooped a dozen fish into a plastic bag and handed it to Walker. “Have you time for a drink?”

“I told Nikki to be back in an hour.”

“Then you have time for one.”

They sat out on the deck in folding beach chairs and Andreas pulled chilled bottles of Mythos beer from a cold box.

“She’s growing up fast.”

Walker looked across at his friend. “Too fast. But what can you do?”

Andreas took a swig from his beer and grinned. “Enjoy every single day.”

The high pitch popping of a motor scooter engine approached along the fish dock and stopped at the end of the gangway. A tall, gangly youth got off and waved at Andreas. Walker recognized Giorgio, the fisherman’s grandson. Andreas eased himself out of his chair and waddled down the gangway to meet him. They talked for a few minutes, then the youngster climbed back on his scooter, gave a theatrical high pitched rev of the engine, then disappeared back up the dock.

Andreas watched his grandson go, then came back on board.

“Everything okay.” Walker asked.

Andreas shrugged. “Giorgio was talking to Kostas. There was a stranger on the morning ferry.”

“Andreas, there are always strangers on the ferry.”

“According to Kostas, he was Russian. Kostas asked him if he needed a taxi. He said no.”

“And he can work out he’s Russian from that.” Walker was trying to dismiss it, but his gut was telling him different.

“Trust me, Kostas can smell Russians. You said to tell you. . .”

“I know, Andreas.” Walker put down his beer bottle. “I need to get home.”

“Is there a problem? Can I help?”

Walker shook his head. “It’s probably nothing, but I like to be careful.”

“Don’t forget your fish.” Andreas handed him the plastic bag. “Tell Nikki she owes me. She said she was going to paint the bridge house.” He nodded towards the outside toilet and grinned.

“I’ll tell her.”

Walker tried not to run. He walked as fast as he could along the quay to where he had left the Land Rover. The long wheelbase, four-wheel-drive beast, was a wreck, but it ran far better than it looked. It had been Maya’s. She had loved it, and there was no way he was ever letting it go.

He jumped in and fumbled for his keys. The engine wheezed and protested, then finally burst into life. He slammed it into gear and took off.

His heart was racing as fast as his thoughts. It was the same thing every time a stranger arrived. It was just a precaution, he told himself. They didn’t get many tourists out here. The majority stopped either at the islands closer to the mainland, that the ferry stopped at on its route from Piraeus to Cyprus, or preferred the more famous islands that were further out, especially as they moved into winter. So visitors were rare, especially a Russian.

CHAPTER FIVE

Walker headed out of town, taking the narrow winding road that climbed the hill overlooking the bay. He tried calling Nikki, but all he got was her cheerful voicemail. He hung up and stepped on the gas.

He and Nikki had a villa a couple of miles along the cliff top. It had been hard at first, living there, after he had lost Maya, for both of them. Maya had found the place when they had first moved out to the island and were living in a rented apartment in the center of town. She had transformed the place from an abandoned wreck to what had become their paradise. It had everything, comfort, seclusion, stunning views of the Aegean and the islands beyond.

A place to stop running.

It had always been their sanctuary, and when Nikki had come along, it had been perfect. When he lost Maya, part of him told him he should sell it and move on. But another part, a part he recognized well, knew he could never do that, because that part of him could still feel her there.

He tried calling Nikki again, but still got her voicemail. Just the sound of her voice made him want to hold her close to him. That little girl who used to insist he told her stories before she would go to sleep.

He left her a message, telling her to call him - now.

He brought the Land Rover to a screeching stop outside the house and jumped out. There was no sign of Nikki’s bicycle.

He moved through the living room into the kitchen, still no sign. He crossed over to the sink and reached into a bucket he had stowed in the cupboard below. The Glock was there, where it always was. He pulled it out and jerked back the slide, then stepped over to the open door, still holding the plastic bag with the fish. He wasn’t sure why.

He took a glance outside. The swimming pool was freshly cleaned, gleaming cobalt blue under the midday sun. He stepped out on to the patio, keeping the gun out of sight. He held out the fish and headed towards the barbecue on the far side of the pool.

An angry hornet buzzed past his ear. It seemed as if time slowed. He was vaguely aware of something smacking into the wall at the far end of the pool. But he was already diving for the cover of the wall at the other end.

Walker dropped the plastic bag. Silver bellied red mullet spilled out across the tiles. A streak of red, like an artist’s brushstroke, seemed to glow in the sunlight - blood.

He held out the gun in front of him, quickly scanning around, but there was no one. Something at the back of his mind told him there had been no sound of a shot.

A noise cut through the daze, pulling him back to reality. A motorcycle started up somewhere in the distance. It seemed to wake him, as if its significance suddenly hit home. He heard it accelerate away with a roar.

He stood up carefully and peered over the wall. No one shot at him. He ran for the door, stuffing the Glock into the band of his trousers and scrambled into the Land Rover. The engine roared into life. He floored the accelerator and headed back towards the town.

Part of him was trying to ignore the implications of what had just happened, trying to focus on finding who had just tried to kill him. He assumed it was a man. He wasn’t sure why. Why had he only taken one shot? It kept him distracted from the thing he was trying to ignore.

They had found him, after all this time.

He fumbled with the phone, tapping in a message with his thumb as he struggled to keep the Land Rover on the narrow road.

Go to Andreas. Stay there until I come.

He hit send as he swung the Land Rover around a tight corner and stamped on the brakes. The tires squealed, kicking up clouds of dust. He skidded to a halt inches from the rear of a tractor moving along at a snail’s pace, blocking the whole road. He leaned on the horn, which was normal practice driving in Greece, but the tractor driver was deaf to it.

He sat tapping nervously at the wheel as the tractor trundled forward, still blocking his way past. And the main question sat now at the front of his mind.

How had they found him after all this time?

The thick odor of goat shit wafted in through the open window. It was a smell he had grown quite used to. He felt like he was deep in it right now. A ship’s horn sounded from down in the harbor. He sat for a moment, letting the sound bounce around inside his head, before the thought hit him. He glanced at his watch.

“Shit,” he said out loud. He glanced at his watch. Timing, it was all about timing. The ferry — The shooter was leaving on the ferry.

They got few tourists, especially this time of year. Narkos being one of the middle islands. The ones they did came on the ferry. It was the most anonymous way in.

Take the outgoing ferry from Piraeus on the way here, then take the inward ferry on the way back, with everything timed nicely to be not hanging about waiting. The only airport on the island was a small airfield for the odd private jet which would hardly hide its presence, and any private boats attracted the attention of the local police, who were constantly looking for drug runners.

At this time, the ferry came in from the outlying islands on its way in to Piraeus. Once on board, the shooter would just blend into the crowd. Even if the police boarded the ferry, he would probably have a ticket showing he boarded at an outlying island, no doubt handed to him by a colleague already on board. Just another tourist.

Walker leaned on the horn, but it had little effect. Eventually, the tractor trundled into the entrance to a field and Walker floored the accelerator. The Land Rover screamed down the hill into the small town, hoping not to meet the local police on the way.

He raced out on to the quay and screeched to a halt. He could see the ferry clearly, leaving a white churning wake as it headed out through the breakwater.

CHAPTER SIX

Walker called Andreas, but Nikki wasn’t there. He tried calling her again, but all he got was her cheery voicemail response. He needed to find her, and they had to leave. Andreas could take them to the mainland. He had a go-bag in a locker in the railway station in Athens. Prepared and waiting for a day like today. It had everything they needed. From there, they could go anywhere. As long as he had Nikki, it didn’t matter.

He tried to remember where her friend lived. It was somewhere behind the church square. He had picked her up there once. He turned the Land Rover around and headed back through the town. He recognized the place as he reached the end of the street and parked. He tried to hold back the panic as he approached the house and knocked on the door.

A slim Greek girl, about Nikki’s age, answered. “Mister Walker?”

He remembered she spoke excellent English. Nikki has been teaching her while Elli has been helping Nikki with her Greek.

It was a stupid question, but he asked it anyway. His gut squeezed tight as he spoke.

“Is Nikki there?”

Elli shook her head. “Nikki went home maybe an hour ago. She said you were making barbecue.”

Walker thanked her and headed back to the Land Rover. He climbed in and sat there, a lump the size of a brick in his chest. She left an hour ago. Around the time someone was taking a pot shot at him.

The two things did not have to be connected. He always knew his past life could catch up with him one day. That was always a possibility, and he had resolved that when it did, he would take care of it. It did not have to have anything to do with Nikki, but he was naïve to believe it would be anything else.

He put the Land Rover in gear and headed up the narrow street that ran past the church. He pulled out his phone and tried ringing her again. Again, her cheery voice from her voicemail told him to leave a message. Maybe it was a boy. She was at that age. Growing up so fast. God, he so wanted her here right now, apologizing, pouting, giving him a hug, promising to not do it again.

Something caught his eye as he slowed at the junction at the top of the hill, a momentary flash on the edge of his vision. Walker hit the brakes. The tires squealed to a stop. He glanced in his wing mirror. The street behind him was empty. He could see the entrance to an alley, running off to his left. He backed up the Land Rover. His heart thumped in his chest. It was only the briefest of glimpses, but it was the color that stood out - pink.

He stopped and got out, then walked up the alley. He knew what it was, but his mind just wouldn’t let it in. But that made little difference. It was lying abandoned, as if discarded there. He was hardly breathing.

It was Nikki’s bike.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Walker pulled up an App on his phone. He had almost forgotten about it. A friend of his in Piraeus had installed it for him when he had bought her the latest iPhone on her last birthday. It wasn't like the normal Find my Phone App, which if you were a smart girl, like Nikki, you could switch off when you didn't want to be found. This one she didn't know was there, and even if she did, she couldn’t switch it off.

He felt bad about it, and had only used it a couple of times. It was there for emergencies - like now.

She couldn’t have gone far. This was a lump of rock in the middle of the Aegean Sea. The blue dot pulsed on the screen. According to the App, she was on the far side of the island. He had no idea what she was doing there, but the dot was not moving.

It had to be a boy. He kept repeating it to himself. He wouldn’t get mad at her. She just needed to tell him where she was going. He tried not to think of why she had abandoned her bike.

He took the route over the mountain, though mountain was pushing it a bit. It was a craggy peak that rose out of the rock in the center of the island. A narrow track ran up and skirted its base, then dropped to the coast on the far side of the island. The track was rough and potholed, alternating between stretches of worn asphalt and even longer stretches of dirt road, but the four wheel drive of the Land Rover took it in its stride.

There was not a lot on the far side of the island. A small fishing village that somehow seemed to survive, despite the much larger fleet with its more modern vessels running out of Drakos, on the other side of the island.

He dropped down the hill and drove into the village, just a few scattered houses clustered around the tiny harbor. He looked at the dot in the center of his phone screen. It was still not moving. The screen showed the street map of the village. This place appeared to be locked in the past, but it had cellphone coverage, and it did have Internet access.

He drove on through the village. The road rose again to follow the cliff top along the coast. There was a narrow lane off to the left. Walker hit the brakes. According to the App, Nikki was down there. He turned in and drove slowly along it. There was nothing here, no houses, just a narrow farm track leading up into the fields.

He saw the car parked ahead, tucked in beside the track. It was a bit of a standout for this end of the island. It was relatively new, a top of the range Audi. Not something that someone who lived on this side of the island could afford.

He got out of the Land Rover and pulled out the Glock. Maybe this was over the top, but if someone who could afford a car like that had Nikki inside, he knew he would blow his brains out.

He approached the car and looked inside. He didn't have to worry about shooting the driver. Someone had already got ahead of him. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel. He had been shot in the back of the head.

There was no sign of Nikki.

Walker opened the rear door. According to his App which was still pulsing patiently in the center of his screen, Nikki's phone was still here. He reached under the driver's seat. His fingers found what he was seeking almost immediately. He pulled it out, Nikki's iPhone.

He had to believe she put it there. The thought tugged at his heart. Did she know he would track her? And where was she now?

He stood up and closed the rear door. His eye caught something through the driver's window on the center console. He opened the front door to get a closer look. He didn't pick it up. He could see what it was. A small cellophane packet, cocaine, no doubt, just a little teaser, enough to persuade the local police that this was all about drugs.

But someone had taken Nikki, someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

He left the Audi exactly as it was. Someone would discover it and call the police. He wanted to be far away from here before they arrived. But someone local had to have seen Nikki. He drove back into the village. A simple wooden dock jutted out into the clear blue water.

It was deserted.

He needed to ask around, but down at this end of the island they didn't speak too much English, and his Greek extended little beyond, kalí méra, good day, and ena býra parakaló, which would get him a beer, and was one of the reasons he rarely drank on his own. He needed Andreas.

He exited the tracking App and called him. He was short on detail but gave him the essentials and made clear the urgency. There were few people who knew about his life before he came to the island. Andreas was one of them, he had felt he owed him that. Even then he had left out many of the details. Andreas had made no comment, and had asked few questions. But from that day, he and those close to him had kept an eye open for inquisitive visitors, especially Russians.

Walker entered the only bar in the village, a small taverna on the waterfront. He ordered a beer and sat in the corner. It was still untouched on the table in front of him when Andreas arrived thirty minutes later. The fisherman looked over towards him and gave a barely perceptible nod, then went up to the bar.

He ordered a drink and spoke to the barman. A man sitting at the end of the bar turns his head to Andreas, and the conversations continued. Walker had no idea what they were saying, even if he could hear them. Eventually, Andreas wandered over and sat down with two glasses of ouzo. He put one in front of Walker. Walker shook his head. Even the smell made him want to throw up. Andreas shrugged, then picked up the glass and emptied it into his own.

“They came in a big powerboat. They did not stay long and then they left. According to Stavros at the bar, they said they were headed for Piraeus. But that does not mean that is where they were going.”

“Did they say anything about Nikki?”

“Stavros said he saw them bring a girl in a car. The boss man’s daughter, she was sick, and they needed to get her to a hospital on the mainland.”

“Did he say who they were?” But he knew the answer to that before Andreas replied.

Andreas shook his head. “No, but the man who owned the boat, he was Russian.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Walker left Andreas behind, trying to find out what else he could about the boat that had taken Nikki, and drove back across the island. He skirted the peak, gripping the wheel to stop his whole body from shaking. His heart was racing, thumping like a drum as a tight band squeezed his chest. He stamped on the brakes, struggling for breath, and scrambled out of the Land Rover. He dropped to his knees and threw up on the roadside, heaving, time after time, until there was nothing left in his gut.

He lay on his back, looking up at the sky, doing just as Maya had taught him. Slowing his breath, letting the demons take him, if that was their aim. But he had to stop fighting them.

He had never had a panic attack until Maya has told him her news. That first time, he was sure he was going to die. But that had not happened. Instead, he had lived to watch her fade away, day by day.

She had taken it in her stride, never showing an ounce of fear. Instead, she was the one who had calmed him, telling him everything would be just fine. She had only extracted a single promise from him before she had slipped away that morning, with a smile still on her face.

Take care of Nikki.

His mouth was bitter with bile from his stomach. It was a taste he intended to hold on to until he found her. He looked up at the craggy rock rising above him. He knew this place. He came here two or three times a week. He was a member of the local shooting club, one of the few aspects of his past life that he kept alive. His preference was the rifle, but he was still the best pistol shot in the club. A fact that he kept to himself as he usually let the Chief of Police beat him. The Chief knew a little about his past, a carefully concocted story that would survive what little research the policeman would have access to, and enough to satisfy his curiosity.

His chosen distance was a thousand yards, but here in Europe, it was a thousand meters. He had a Ruger Precision Gen 3, Bolt-Action Rifle, the perfect tool for the task. The Police Chief had even enabled its import from the US. He shot at the club in competitions, on the mainland and around the islands, but he preferred to practice up here.

There was something about the isolation, a tranquility, it was almost as if he was keeping his eye in, just in case. If only he could get the man who had taken Nikki into his sights. His stomach responded with a dry heave.

He got to his feet and stood there, taking deep breaths, letting the cool breeze flick at his face. The taste of bile was still bitter on his tongue. He climbed back into the Land Rover and drove on autopilot, back to Drakos. He took the coast road out of town. As he reached the top of the hill and started out along the cliff top road, he could see the villa in the distance as the sun dipped towards the Aegean behind it. He pulled over the Land Rover and stopped.

He got out and walked out onto the clifftop, replaying it in his mind, but this time like a professional. There had been little wind. He had heard the bullet strike the wall behind him. He visualized it all. A shot like that had to be across the small bay right beside the house.

He made his way forward, following a narrow path along the cliff top, skirting his way through clumps of tough grass and gnarled, wild olive trees. He reached a point where the cliff cut back to follow the edge of a small bay. The villa stood directly across from him. He knelt and examined the dirt track. The imprint of a motorcycle tyre was visible in the dust. He moved along, following its track to the point where it stopped. He knelt and examined a depression in the dirt. It looked like the impression of a bike stand. He stood and looked around, then pushed his way through a line of thick thorn bushes, closer towards the cliff edge.

There was an area of flattened grass. He looked out across the bay. From here to the villa, it had to be seven, maybe eight hundred yards. Not an easy shot, especially with the wind, but this was the shooting spot.

He took a few steps to the side. Some small plants and grass had been ripped away, probably from a boot making its way down the short incline. He scrambled down the slope. There were more bushes here. He looked down into the thick branches. The thinner branches were broken. He reached in, his hand groping around in the dirt. His fingers touched something. He got a grip on it and pulled it free.

It was a rifle, a very special rifle from the look of it. Of course, the shooter would discard it after use. It was now surplus to requirements. But why didn’t he take a few more steps and dump it in the sea. Just another thing about this he didn’t understand.

He examined the gun, a silencer still screwed on to the end of the barrel. It had been a good few years since he had seen one like this, but he recognized it. It was a Dragunov, though all identification marks had been removed. Russian made, a sniper’s rifle, favored by the Spetsnaz, the Russian elite forces.

He climbed back up to the grassy area and laid the gun on the ground, then got down beside it and looked through the scope. He swung the barrel slightly, and the villa came into perfect view. He stared across at the place he and Nikki called home. A pro would know the exact distance, would have estimated the wind. This was a professional weapon used by a skilled shooter.

This was a pro-hit.

He pondered the thing that had been bothering him. He knew it was the Russians, and they had long memories, as long and as cold as their interminable and unforgiving winters. They had brought in a professional. His mind went over the shot. A difficult one, true. But a professional, especially a Spetsnaz sniper, did not set up a shot on the off chance that he could get lucky.

One thing he remembered clearly about Spetsnaz snipers - they did not miss.

Walker arrived back at the house, the thought still troubling in his mind. He parked and walked inside. Nikki’s absence seemed to bring a chill to the place, despite the warmth of the evening.

He saw it straight away, as he came in through the side door, sitting on the kitchen counter. A phone plugged into a charger. It was not there when he had left. He had never seen it before. Someone had been in the house and left it - for him. He picked it up. The messenger icon had a one beside it. He pressed the icon and a single message appeared.

Wait for instructions.

He had felt fear many times in his life, sheer, gut wrenching fear. But each time, the worst times, were not for himself. The first was Maya, when he realized there was nothing he could do. The second was that morning when he realized that today was the day. Now Nikki. But he would be damned if he would do nothing.

He picked up the phone and tapped in a text message. He realized his hands were shaking.

Don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want.

The phone beeped, and another message appeared.

Undelivered.

He stepped out to the pool area and looked out across the bay across to where he had recently been looking at this point through a sniper scope. The sun was rapidly disappearing behind the distant islands, but earlier it would have been high and behind the shooter’s head.

He turned around and walked towards the wall. His fingers found the hole. He took out his Swiss penknife and dug out the bullet. He examined it between his fingers. The soft mortar of the wall had preserved most of its shape. Steel jacket, hollow point.

A Pro’s bullet to go with a Pro’s gun.

He desperately wanted a drink, but he had to stay sharp. They were in control, they would contact him. What he did next was very important. Nikki’s life could depend on it. But he had to get ahead of this.

He took out his own phone and made a call. The phone seemed to ring forever. Then it answered, loud music blasting in the background.

“Mister Robert,” a voice called out.

“Theo, I need you to do something for me.”

“Mister Robert, it is Friday night.”

“Theo, it’s early, and besides, it pays.”

Theo quickly relented. Walker gave him his instructions and hung up the phone. He sat in an armchair waiting for the phone to ring, but he knew he was unlikely to hear anything back until morning. He relented on the drink but settled for a beer. He twisted off the top and wandered outside.

A cool breeze wafted in off the sea. It was dark now. A splash of silver moonlight danced across the Aegean, in the space between the vague lumps of the islands in the distance. He often stood out here and imagined he could see Maya dancing out there, skipping across the wave tips.

But not tonight. Tonight, she was right here.

He looked up above him, at the bright star shining alone against the black of the night.

“I’ll find her,” he called out loud. “I promise you, no matter what it takes, I’ll find her.”

CHAPTER NINE

The ping of the phone reached down into a place where he was struggling with some dream induced demon. Walker was up and moving across the room before his body realized he was awake. He grabbed for the phone. The new message icon glowed on the screen.

Take the morning flight to Paris.

Paris? What the hell was that?

He moved through into the kitchen and opened his laptop. There was an Air France flight to Charles de Gaulle at ten. He booked a seat in business class, then downloaded the boarding pass to his phone.

He switched on the coffee machine, then stepped into a cold shower, trying not to think about her, but that didn’t last. He had to think of her. If he just followed their instructions, there would be only one outcome.

He poured himself a mug of black coffee and stepped out onto the terrace. It was still dark and the crescent moon was slipping behind the mountains, leaving a dark, clear sky. He had stood out here twenty four hours ago, and the world had still been a wonderful place. He half expected Nikki to come wandering out, blurry eyed, demanding breakfast. But it was Maya’s star still up above him, shining bright, that was demanding now, as if she was challenging him to what he had to do. It was time to focus.

Why Paris? Was it a stepping off point? Why did they not take him on the boat? What did they want? He knew one thing for sure. His own life meant nothing in this. Only Nikki mattered. He had to protect her, and the only way to do that was to get ahead of this.

He drank two more mugs of coffee while he packed the bare essentials in a backpack, then retrieved the Glock from where he had stuffed it beneath his pillow the night before. He had a permit for it and used it at the gun club. It was an excellent weapon. But if he was getting on a plane, he couldn’t take it with him. He would need to improvise. He stashed it back in the bucket underneath the sink in the kitchen.

Thirty minutes later, he was driving into town. He wound his way through the back streets, keeping away from the town center. He did it without thinking. Not because he didn’t want anyone to see him, he was just putting off the moment.

He parked the Land Rover beside the dive school office. He was the first one in. He left a brief note for Eva along with the keys to the Land Rover. She had her own set to the office and could take care of things. She and both the boys were Master Divers, so the school could run without him and Nikki. He had to push Nikki’s grinning face out of his mind.

He walked along the quay. Koukla was creaking gently on her moorings as he stepped aboard. Andreas emerged from the shadows.

“Are you sure this is the right thing? Should we not call the police?”

“And they will do what? They are more likely to throw me in jail. And how will that help me find Nikki. These people are in the wind and the police are not going to find them. They have sent me a message. I’m sure that if I don’t do what they ask, Nikki will be dead.”

The sun was peaking over the mountain, splashing gold across the water in the distance as they headed out from the harbor, Koukla’s engine squealing gently. The sea was flat, the only ripples were from the fishing boat’s wake as it cut through the water.

Walker looked back towards the island. Apart from the occasional light from within the buildings, the town sat in darkness. He could just about make out the peak rising above them, etched against the lightening sky. It might be the last time he saw this place. He knew his destiny lay in the other direction. Someone was probably going to die for this, and it might well be him. But as long as it wasn’t Nikki, that was fine by him.

CHAPTER TEN

It was still dark when they came into the port of Piraeus, but the port side was lit up like Christmas and buzzing with activity. Andreas brought the fishing boat alongside and a young boy rushed out to grab the mooring rope that the fisherman threw out.

They said their goodbyes on the dockside. Andreas pulled him into a brief embrace. Walker caught the aroma of rotting fishbones and stale tobacco. To Walker, it was not an unpleasant smell. He knew it would stay with him. He turned and headed up the dock.

He found a taxi out on the main road and had it take him into Athens. It dropped him at the main railway station on Domokou Avenue. He made his way inside and across to the bank of luggage lockers. He was a solitary figure. It was still early and the morning commute had not yet started.

He kept the key on his key ring. He slotted it into the lock and opened the door. He knew there were half a dozen surveillance cameras with a constant eye on who was coming and going, so he just removed the bag and left. He didn’t need to open it. He knew what was inside. Six passports of different nationalities and different names, three had his photograph inside, three had Nikki’s. There was five thousand Euros cash, with another five thousand US Dollars, along with half a dozen credit cards, all valid.

He picked up a taxi outside the main entrance and stuffed the bag’s contents into his backpack while the taxi drove him into the old town of Plaka. He left the empty bag in the cab when he got out.

The ancient neighborhood sprawled across the lower slopes of the Acropolis. It was a favorite place of Maya, and when Nikki had come along and was old enough to appreciate it, she loved it too. They would borrow a boat and come in early on Sunday mornings from Narkos, then wander the old cobbled streets, packed with shops, market stalls, traders, cafes and restaurants, and it seemed like half the world as well. Until they could resist the tantalizing aroma of roasting lamb no longer, and they would have lunch in a small street side Taverna, with a nice bottle of Kostifali, red wine from Crete, a Greek salad, and freshly baked bread, and of course, young roasted lamb dropping off the bone.

Even after Maya was gone, he and Nikki would still come here. It was not without the odd tear, but always with happy memories. They still loved it.

But today wasn’t for pleasure, and it was still too early for the tourists.

Walker made his way through the darkened backstreets. There were no streetlights, but the occasional house cast a pale illumination onto the cobbles. Walker knew the way.

The light was on in the tiny kitchen in the row of neglected cottages in a side street across from the market. There were nice places to live in Plaka, but these were not amongst them.

Walker approached the back door and knocked. A woman answered. She looked older than the building. Her face brightened in recognition and broke into a smile that revealed a haphazard row of blackened teeth stumps.

“Meestah Walker. It has been so long.”

Walker smiled in return. “Missus Styros, nice to see you. I need to see Theo.”

“You be lucky.” She pointed above her head. “He only go to his bed a couple hours ago.”

Missus Styros worked at a local hotel as a cleaner. Her English was patchy, but it was better than Walker’s Greek. According to Theo, she had once been a teacher, but that was before the Greek economy nose dived and with the Government unable to pay her, she had found herself out of a job.

“I have to go.” She glanced up at a plastic clock on the kitchen wall. “Meestah Theopolis does not like for us to be late. You can help yourself to coffee.” She glanced up at the ceiling. “Good luck waking the dead.”

Missus Styros disappeared out the door, and Walker headed for the stairs.

Time for a rude awakening.

Theo’s bedroom was a scene from a technological post apocalyptic movie. Screens and keyboards, desktops, laptops and tablets were scattered in what seemed a haphazard fashion across the room. Theo could have been lost deep within it all if it wasn’t for the low persistent snoring that emanated from a pile of bedclothes in the corner of the room.

“Theo.” Walker poked a boot into the origin of the snoring. “Theo,” he called louder and poked harder.

“Ugh.” A mop of dark curls appeared out of the chaos. “What the fuck?”

Theo spoke English with an affected American accent he had picked up from too many video games and too many super hero movies.

“What time is it?”

“The time doesn’t matter. Did you get what I ask for?”

Theo sat up as if seeing the chaos of the room for the first time and looked out the window. “Shit. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Theo, unless you want me to have a long talk with your mother, then wake up and talk to me.”

Theo gave him a look, then climbed out of bed. He was wearing a pair of jogging pants, not that Theo ever went jogging, and a Marvel Avengers T-shirt.

Theo was seventeen, but Walker had met him when he was fourteen. He was into petty hacking and small scale cyber crimes. Even then, his skills had made him a magnet for trouble. A gang from the north of Athens had come looking for him. They were intent on recruiting him and his skills, and were beating him into compliance when Walker had stumbled across them, quite literally, and stepped in to help. He had broken the arms of the two biggest ones and had grabbed the one who had been directing the proceedings. The rest had run.

He had left a message with the one in charge. If he saw him again, even on the street, he wouldn’t be going home, and then Walker would go looking for his boss.

They had stayed away. Presumably there were easier and less painful pickings to be had.

Theo was grateful, and Walker found him useful, but he still payed him for his services. He preferred it that way. Theo’s mother only ever knew that Walker had saved her son from a beating.

Theo shuffled over to one of his laptops and pounded on the keyboard.

“You know which network this was on?”

“I assume it was the police network.”

“And you realize that is illegal.”

“Which is Theo speak to mean you have a special rate for it. Did you get it?”

Theo looked across and smiled. “Of course, Mister Robert.”

Walker shook his head, then dropped some euro notes on the table.

Theo tapped away on his keyboard. “It is all here. There’s a single security camera feed from the Narkos ferry terminal, and multiple feeds from the Piraeus terminal from the arrival of the midday ferry.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure, but there’s a lot here.”

“Can you send it to me?”

“Give me your phone.”

Walker took out his phone and handed it to Theo, who began tapping into it.

“Use this link. It is in the cloud.” He smiled at Walker. “More secure that way.” Theo handed back the phone. “Big T is a genius.”

“What?”

“I said Big T is a genius. All one word, all caps. The password. I needed something you would not forget.”

“I need something else.” He handed Theo the phone he had been left. “Whoever called me on that has probably ditched the calling phone by now, but there are two messages on there. I need to know where they came from.”

“Can I keep it, it might take me a while.”

“No, I need it. Can’t you clone it?”

Theo smiled. “No problem.”

He pulled open another laptop and fired it up, then pulled out a cable from under the table and plugged in the phone. He clicked away on the keyboard, then unplugged the phone and handed it back.

“I’ve got everything I need, but I need a little time.”

Walker looked at his watch. “I have a plane to catch. Call me when you have something.”

Theo nodded, blinking as if suddenly the effect of waking up had caught up with him. “Did Mom put on the coffee?”

Walker headed out. It was considerably lighter than when he had arrived and the city was waking up. He made his way to Syntagma Square and flagged down a taxi. He climbed into the back seat.

“Airport.”

He sat back and closed his eyes. The harsh aroma of the taxi driver’s cigarette seemed to fill his head. It reminded him of a man he knew.

He opened his eyes as the car jerked to a stop and the passenger door opened. A large woman thrust her bag onto the back seat, then squeezed in beside it. Another woman climbed into the front passenger seat. The woman beside him babbled something to the driver, then gave Walker a yellow toothed smile and lit a cigarette as the cab pulled away.

Walker had lived long enough in Greece to understand the taxi passenger sharing system, which the incumbent passenger had no choice in, and the shared fare, which was something that only the cab driver could fathom. There were three other passenger changes before the taxi deposited Walker in front of the Airport Terminal building.

He made his way through to the Air France check-in desk and pulled up the boarding pass on his phone. He used his own name and passport.

He went through security and immigration. France and Greece, being in the Schengen Area, meant his Greek resident’s visa gave him access throughout the region. He made his way through to the business class lounge and sat in the corner. He linked up to the Wi-Fi, then clicked on Theo’s cloud link. It prompted him for a password.

He typed in BIGTISAGENIUS.

The screen blinked, then showed him the icons for two file folders. One was for the ferry terminal in Narkos, the other from the arrival dock in Piraeus. He clicked on the Narkos folder first. There was a single file in it.

He pulled up the footage from the camera. The time showed 12:00 at the bottom of the screen.

There was a small crowd of people. They headed for the ferry as the boarding ramp was rolled out. He tapped on the image and the screen froze. A man with a bag over his shoulder was about to board. He was looking away from the camera and he had a hood pulled up to hide any chance of seeing his face. But he was sure this was the man.

He checked the rest of the boarding passengers, but no one else came close. He moved onto the folder for the incoming ferry in Piraeus. There were multiple files here for all the cameras around the ferry docks. The police were not interested in drunken tourist or even Russian snipers, but they were interested in drug runners, bringing it in from Turkey, hopping through the islands and then into Piraeus on the ferry.

The ferry was already alongside and the first passengers were just appearing. They were halfway through when Walker saw him.

He stopped the video, then advanced it along.

It was a good facial shot.

He hit the icon to zoom it in. The man’s face filled the screen. He had turned away from the main camera, but the one across the road had caught him.

He was of some indeterminate age, anywhere between thirty and fifty. From the distant shot, he looked tall and slim. He had blond hair, probably dyed, because his eyebrows were dark. In his left ear, he had a large gold earring and what looked like an old fashioned razor blade dangling from it.

He knew this was him. He knew it with a certainty that seemed to burn into his soul. This was the man who could lead him to Nikki.

The app allowed him to take a still shot of the man. It was a clear image of his face. The shooter was a pro, and pros worked for money. Someone had paid him.

He checked the cloned phone. There were no more messages, but he didn’t intend to wait. He was out there, and there were people who could identify him. He was going to find him, and he was going to find Nikki. And when he did, these people who took her would never come looking again.

He studied the photo again. Everything pointed in the same direction. The Dragunov sniper rifle, a Spetsnaz favorite. The man on the boat - the Russian. There was one man he knew who could tell him all he needed to know about Russians — these Russians. If anyone could track down the man in the photo, it was him. His name was Vasili Gordievski. He sent him the image and a brief message.

Identify this man. Will call you later.

He knew he should call him, but he was the one man he did not want to talk to right now. Vasili Gordievski was Maya’s father - and Nikki’s grandfather.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The flight landed at Charles de Gaulle shortly after noon. The phones in his pocket bleeped a couple of times as they connected to the local network, then bleeped again. He hadn’t switched them off. He took out his own phone. There were half a dozen missed calls and a message from Vasili.

CALL ME!!

He took out the other phone and looked at the screen. There was another message.

Take the afternoon flight to Washington, D.C.

What the hell was going on? Why Washington?

If this was the Russians, the Russians he remembered, they would be grabbing his attention by sending him Nikki's body parts by personal messenger. He tried not to think about that.

He checked the flights and found a direct one to Washington, D.C. at 2 pm. He managed to get the last seat. He bought the ticket using a credit card in his own name and his own passport and checked in. He had only carry-on luggage.

He sat in the bar nursing a beer while he waited for them to call the flight. He checked his phone. There were no more messages and nothing more from Vasili.

The flight was on time. Walker showed his boarding pass and his passport at the gate and moved through into the jam packed jetway.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, half expecting another message, but it was his own phone ringing. He recognized the caller ID and hit answer and pushed it to his ear.

“Theo, I hope you’ve got good news.”

“It was not easy.”

“That’s what I pay you for. Tell me.”

“I am tracking all incoming calls and messages to the phone I cloned. I can see you recently received another text message.”

“And?”

“All the messages were sent from St. Petersburg.”

“Russia?”

“Is there another?”

“Never mind, I’ll be in touch.”

He hung up the phone.

The queue on the jetway was moving forward. He could see the aircraft doorway over the heads of the crowd and the passengers stepping onboard.

These people wanted him to take this flight. He had no idea why. He thought he knew these people and what they wanted. But why did they want him in Washington, D.C.? They didn’t sound like the Russians he had in mind.

Whoever they were, they wanted him for something. And for some reason, they want him back in the States. If he didn’t save Nikki, who would? Vasili?

He knew Vasili would die for his granddaughter, but knowing Vasili’s style, he might just do that. Who would save Nikki then?

He had to take control. No matter what or how much he did for them, they would never let her live. The only way to keep her alive was to keep them wanting him. And the only way to find Nikki was to follow the only lead he had.

The woman in front moved forward to take up the gap in the queue. Walker stepped up behind her. Her bag was hanging over her shoulder, crammed with magazines and goodies for the trip. Walker pulled out the phone they had left him. He looked at the screen, part of him desperately wanting another message from them. He slipped the phone into the woman’s bag.

His only link to Nikki.

The woman stepped through the aircraft doorway. The flight attendant greeted her, and she stepped inside.

“Boarding pass please, sir.”

Walker gave the flight attendant his most anguished look. It wasn’t difficult.

“I’m very sorry, but I can’t take this flight. I’ve just received a message that my wife was in an accident. I have to get to the hospital.” He felt bad using Maya, but he knew she would forgive him. She would do anything to save Nikki.

“I’m very sorry to hear that. Could you give me your boarding pass?”

Walker pulled it up on his own phone and showed it to her. She took it and held it up to a reader, then tapped into a keyboard.

“Do you have any check in luggage?”

Walker shook his head. “No, just carry on.”

The attendant picked up the phone on the wall and spoke briefly, then hung up. “Sir, please return to the check in desk.”

He bumped into a passenger, a man coming the other way, and pushed him into the woman behind, who dropped the armful of magazines she was carrying.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” the man called out.

Walker apologized, but already they were blocking the whole jetway. The security man standing by the jetway door stepped towards them, trying to move them forward. Walker brushed past him, pocketing the man’s security pass that was hanging on his jacket as he did so.

He stepped through the door in the jetway and clattered down the outside metal stairway, then crossed the service road towards the terminal building, trying not to run. An electric baggage vehicle piled high with suitcases swept by. Walker jumped on the back, clinging on as it juddered across a series of speed bumps. The baggage vehicle swept in towards an unloading dock. Walker stepped off as it slowed and headed up a ramp into the building.

He moved past a series of clanking luggage conveyers towards an automated exit barrier. He swept the security card through the reader and kept his head down, away from the security camera. The light on the barrier turned green and the metal bar blocking his way dropped clear. He pushed through and followed a passageway, then stepped through a door at the end, out into the baggage hall.

There was no passport control or customs check within the Schengen region, so he made it upstairs to the departure level with no barriers. He looked out of the window as an aircraft lifted off into the sky.

He had to keep moving. Had to push aside the thought that he was moving away from Nikki, rather than moving towards her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ten minutes later, he sat at the bar inside the departure hall and downed a whiskey, putting off what he had to do. He had made the move now. He had to follow the only lead he had. He couldn’t allow himself to think what would happen if he was wrong. But first he would need to survive meeting Nikki’s grandfather. Because when he told him about Nikki, Vasili was likely to shoot him.

He picked up his phone and called him.

It wasn't a pleasant conversation.

* * *

This would not be the first time that Vasili Gordievski had threatened to shoot him, but then he had known Vasili a long time.

Walker had joined the Marine Corps, desperate to serve, but the Agency had other plans. They had plucked him out of the Corps when he was twenty four years old. Six months’ intensive training at the Farm and another six tailing the enemy, real and imagined, around the streets of Washington D.C. and he was a fully fledged agent. A year after that he had his dream assignment - Moscow Station.

Back then, the world was changing. The Soviet Union was crumbling, and perhaps as a part of that, things had gone well for him right from the start. But what was it they said about rescuing defeat from the jaws of victory. The case he had been working on had unraveled spectacularly. What should have been his outstanding achievement had come apart, just as it promised its rewards. It seemed his life in the CIA had gone from hero to zero at lightning speed. Then suddenly the Cold War was over. The enemy had been defeated. No one wanted to hear about failure.

Politics in the CIA were in the ascendency. People were jockeying for position. And in politics, when you had a good story to tell, you removed all the players who could weaken your version of events and surrounded yourself with people who were singing your song. Walker didn’t even make it into the choir.

Politics had never been his strong suit, nor his boss, who had been dispatched to fighting the good fight in South America. The same could not be said of his boss’s boss, who had taken firm control of the narrative and had been rewarded with a move to the Director’s grand office on the seventh floor, no doubt to protect the ass of someone above him.

Even then, Walker had picked himself up and moved forward, determined to survive. He was serving his country. He was making a difference. That’s what he had told himself. But what had started out as service and honor had become something very different. After the Soviet Union fell, he spent his life trawling around the hellholes of the former Soviet Union countries, clustered around the new Russian Federation’s borders. It was not an honorable life. It was about subterfuge, lies, removing obstacles, and seizing whatever you could. It had become about winning, whatever that took. The problem was, he was good at it.

But survival didn’t come without a price. When he was away, deep in cover, deep in that world, it was easy to forget he had another life too, and it became increasingly difficult to protect that life.

He had married young, immediately before his first Marine deployment overseas. When he had joined the CIA, they thought things would get better, and at first it had. But as his career began to spiral, so did his marriage. They already had their first child, a girl, Tanya, which made things worse.

When he came back for his brief visits, he was an emotional wreck. He drank too much and said little. His wife didn’t deserve that, and he wanted Tanya to have a normal life. He knew if he wanted to protect them, he had to walk away from it all, or walk away from his family. In the end, it was no choice at all. He had become toxic.

Joanna divorced him and took Tanya. He didn’t blame her. After that, it seemed even more of an excuse to disappear into the hellish world the CIA had created for him.

The first time he met Vasili, he was in Tbilisi, the capital of the former Soviet republic of Georgia. There were rumors that drugs were coming across the border from Azerbaijan, that the Russian Mafiya were paying cash for large amounts of raw opium. Which they were then refining into heroin in huge drug factories spread around Georgia, then shipping it into Europe and the United States.

Walker was following a man called Yuri Belokov, supposedly the chief buyer for the Petrovski Mafia family, one of the deadliest and nastiest criminal organizations that had emerged out of the new Russia. He had tracked him and his herd of minders across town and followed him to a disused factory out by the railway yards. He had climbed in through an upper window and crouched in the darkness waiting for the buy to go down.

He could still remember the feel of the cold gun barrel pressed against his neck.

‘Mister Robert Walker.’ A voice whispered. ‘You see, I take the time to research my opposition.’

The pressure of the gun disappeared, and a face moved out of the darkness. The gun still pointed at him. ‘Keep your hands where I can see them.’

He had seen him about. Knew he was KGB, or what used to be it. ‘Know the face, didn’t catch the name.’

‘Vasili Gordievski, Russian Federation FSB, if you want to be formal.’

‘A little outside your jurisdiction.’

‘And you’re not, Mister CIA man.’

‘At least we operate outside of the United States.’

‘Unfortunately, today you are getting in my way.’

‘I was about to say the same thing about you.’

‘Mister Walker, you may not have noticed, but that is a silencer screwed on to the end of this Stechkin automatic. I could kill you here and our friends down there would know nothing of it.’

‘So why haven’t you?’

‘Call it a professional courtesy. Back in the day, KGB agents and CIA agents didn’t kill each other.’

‘And today?’

‘Today, things are less clear. But if you stand in my way, I will not hesitate. However, it would seem that in a way we both want the same thing. You do not want those drugs on the streets of New York, and I don’t want them on the streets of Moscow. I have a daughter. I want her to have a good life. Do you have children, Mister Walker?’

Walker had looked across at the man as if he knew something. He pushed the unwanted images out of his head and nodded, but said nothing.

‘Then let’s try to stay alive for their sake.’

Vasili stopped pointing the gun. Something stirred down below them as the sellers arrived.

‘Shall we do what we came here to do?’

Belokov was accompanied by three heavies carrying what looked like Kalashnikov assault rifles, but they looked more modern than the old faithful AK47. The seller’s arrived similarly mob handed and armed. They went through the process of sampling the goods and showing the cash. Which was when Vasili chose his moment to start shooting.

He had removed the silencer, and the gunshots were loud in the confined space. It was dark down there, with only a single lamp to light the meeting. To the drug runners, it seemed like the buyers were shooting at them and they opened up. Pretty soon there was a full blown gunfight underway. It lasted barely minutes, then everything fell silent.

Vasili moved down the stairs to survey the damage. As he moved into the light, Belokov stepped out of the shadows and put his gun to his head. Walker, who had been one step behind Vasili, put a bullet in Belokov’s skull, for which Vasili was indeed grateful. He removed a flask from his pocket, took a swig, then poured the remains over the bags of opium. He took a cigarette lighter out of his pocket and set the pile alight.

‘Processed into heroin, that would be worth a hundred million on the streets of New York.’ Walker had observed.

‘It makes you think.’

‘Are you going to do the same with the money?’

Vasili stepped over and opened the large bag that Belokov had brought in. It was crammed with US hundred dollar bills. ‘I have no more vodka.’

‘We could pile it on the drug fire.’

‘Yes, but it seems such a waste.’

‘What were you thinking of doing with it?’

‘I thought I might take it home with me. A man has to take care of his pension.’

‘How much is there, what five million? More?’ It turned out there was closer to twelve. ‘What do you think you’re going to do with it? Take it to the bank?’

‘Would you know how to launder it?’

‘Not without paying eighty cents on the dollar.’

‘So why don’t you leave it to me. I’ll launder it at a much better rate and give you half.’

Walker had smiled at that one. ‘So that’s it, I just let you walk out of here with this big stack of money, and trust you to give me my share.’

‘You did save my life. Let us say I owe you, and we Russians always pay our debts. Besides, have you got a better idea?’

The fact was, he hadn’t. So Vasili had taken the money, and Walker had gone home thinking that was the end of it. What is it they say — what you never had, you never miss.

Back home, things were a mess. The CIA was obsessed with hiring people who spoke Arabic, and it seemed they had no space for old cold war warriors. He was already being shunted about from post to post, from one former Soviet hell hole to another. But now it seemed his country had used him up, and in an incredibly short interview with a lady from HR, it discarded him. And in the end, he didn’t fight it.

So it was quite a surprise, when only a week after the CIA booted him out, he got a message from Vasili asking him to come to St. Petersburg.

Three days later, a smiling Vasili had met him in the former Leningrad, and told him that four million dollars had been deposited for him in a bank in the Cayman Islands. It also seemed that Vasili was well aware of his recent separation from the CIA and offered him a job. Walker wasn’t quite sure why, but he accepted. It turned out to be one of his better decisions.

The details of employment were vague and seemed to change from day to day. He had the nondescript title of security consultant, which seemed to vary from one-on-one bodyguard to whoever Vasili assigned him, to working behind the bar in Vasili’s restaurant.

But working behind the bar did have its benefits. It was where he had met Maya for the first time. She was running the restaurant, and after an initial stand offish approach she had flashed him a smile and he was hooked. She was ten years younger than him, but somehow they had just clicked.

There was only one setback. Maya was Vasili’s daughter.

The second time Vasili had threatened to shoot him was when he told him he was going to marry her.

Maya had persuaded her father that was not a good idea, and they were married in a small village church outside St. Petersburg, in a quiet ceremony that only he, Maya and Vasili attended. Shortly after, he and Maya had headed south. He had used the money to buy the house and the dive school and still had enough to take care of them. He had never been happier in his life - until Nikki came along and the world got even better.

The incident with the Russians was all so long ago, and Vasili had assured him that the ones who mattered were all dead. It looked like their ghosts were reaching out to him from the grave.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

An hour later, he was on a flight to Tallinn in Estonia. He was using a Belgian passport. He wasn’t expecting Estonian immigration to question him on his less than fluent French, but his story was his father was Belgian, but he had lived most of his life in Canada. In the end, the woman on the immigration desk glanced at his passport and waved him through.

A man stood holding up the fictitious name in his passport as he stepped out into the arrivals area. Walker didn’t recognize him, but he knew who had sent him. He did recognize the man sitting in the front passenger seat of the black Mercedes, waiting outside. His name was Sergei, and he worked for Vasili. He nodded but didn’t speak as Walker got into the back seat. The man who had met him climbed into the driver’s seat.

After three hours of winding roads and a brief stop at a border crossing, where what appeared to be a large wad of US dollars exchanged hands, the car stopped in front of a glitzy, American style diner. Above the door was a large neon sign announcing ‘Ocean Boulevard’ beneath a large neon palm tree. Beneath that was another sign in pink neon. It was pointing down a set of steps, Bibi’s, it said.

Walker got out of the car and walked inside. It was still early for dinner and apart from a few stragglers at the bar, the place was almost deserted. The man he was looking for was seated at a table in the corner, staring into a laptop, occasionally bashing at the keys.

Vasili Gordievski’s head came up as Walker approached. He closed the lid of the laptop and stood up, looking directly at him. He was considerably shorter and ten years older than Walker. He looked in good physical shape for a man approaching sixty-five, but today his eyes were red, his face drawn and pale and he looked every one of those years.

“You promised me you would look after her.”

“You promised me they were all dead.”

Vasili gave a tired shrug of his shoulders. “As far as I know they are.”

“So who took her?”

“That should be the question I am asking you.”

“I wish I knew, but I promise you I intend to find out.”

“If I don’t shoot you first.” Vasili shot him a wild eyed stare. He looked in no mood to be tangled with. “So tell me again, what the hell are you doing here.” Vasili’s English was good but his Russia accent was strong and thick. He knew that Walker’s Russian was excellent, but he was making a point. “Why are you not on that plane? You don't even have the phone. It was your only link to them. Your only link to Nikki.”

Walker didn’t want this argument. He had already had it with himself. “The link to Nikki is here.” He stabbed a finger towards the floor. “We have to find it.”

“And what does that mean for Nikki now you have gone AWOL.”

“While ever they need me for something, whatever that is, I have to believe they will keep her alive.”

“You have to? And if you're wrong?”

He looked Vasili directly in the eye.

“Then she’s already dead.”

“If anything happens to my granddaughter, I swear I will put a bullet in your head.”

“If anything happens to her, I’ll do that myself.”

That was about the only thing that Walker was sure of right now. “So let’s find her. We have a face. Let’s find his name. Whoever hired him is here.”

“You sure of that?”

Walker gave his father-in-law a hard stare. “It’s all we’ve got.”

Vasili sat down and buried his face in his hands. Walker left him to himself and sat at the bar. The barman poured him a vodka, but Walker left it untouched.

Eventually Vasili let out a strangled cry, then pounded his fist on the table. Walker was about to say something, but Vasili stood up and walked over to the bar. He went around behind and helped himself to a bottle of vodka and a couple of shot glasses, then came around and sat down beside Walker. He set the bottle and the glasses on the bar, then poured a glass for himself and tossed his head back and sank it in one. He eyed Walker, still not speaking, then filled both glasses this time and put one if front of Walker. Walker picked it up, looked Vasili in the eye, then tossed it back. Vasili nodded and did the same.

“So tell me everything, again.”

Walker topped up his glass and started at the beginning.

“Did you not report it to the authorities?”

“Do you think I’d be sitting here if I had? And do you think it would have made any difference?” Walker looked directly into Vasili’s eyes. “We take care of things ourselves. Don’t we?”

Vasili met his stare, then nodded his head. “So what have you got?”

“I sent you the picture. He tried to shoot me, a sniper, long shot, but I think he missed on purpose.”

“How do you know that?”

“Call it a professional observation.”

“So why would he do that?”

“It was all a distraction so they could take Nikki. So they could use her as bait to get me to Washington?”

“Why do you they want to do that? And who the hell are they?”

“I’m hoping the man in the photo I sent you can answer that. The what as well as the who.”

“I have people working on it.” Vasili looked across at Walker.

“Have you got somewhere to stay?”

“I was going to find a hotel.”

“Not a good idea unless you have lots of money and don’t mind being found. You will stay here.” He looked across at Walker. “You will have Maya’s old room.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fear dragged him up out of sleep, gripping his heart with long nailed fingers. He lay there in the darkness, his throat parched so dry he could barely swallow, and his breath coming in short struggled heaves of his chest.

What had he done?

Yesterday, it had seemed so clear. He was taking control. But today he could see only the stark reality.

The plane had arrived in Washington without him on it. And the phone they had used to communicate with him was gone. They had Nikki, and he had nothing.

The room was in the attic. Vasili had offered him Maya’s old room. Vasili still kept it, just the way it was, when Walker had whisked her away and married her. But he still couldn’t face it, even after all this time.

He climbed out of bed and looked out through the tiny window. The street lights running along the embankment cast a yellow glow out onto the frozen Neva.

Was that him, frozen and unmoving?

He took a shower and dressed quickly, then headed out. There was no sign of Vasili. The waiter, Yuri, offered him breakfast, but that was the last thing he needed right now.

The sky was brightening as he stepped outside and walked out onto the pathway that ran along the river bank. He wasn’t dressed for it, but he began to run. He moved into a steady jog. His chest was still tight, and this might just kill him, but he ran anyway.

After about a mile, he was panting heavily, but his chest felt free and he could feel the energy flowing into his body. He ran for another mile, then stopped, bending at the waist with his hands on his knees, his heart thumping in his chest, sucking in his breath. Somehow, it felt good. He stood upright, letting his heart rate return to normal, and began to walk back.

He remembered when Maya was pregnant. They had come to visit her father, and one day they had walked here along this embankment. It was a day like today. The river was frozen and Maya had wanted to walk out on the ice. But he had insisted, no.

‘We take no risks,’ he had said.

‘Life is a risk.’ He remembered her laughing. Then she had skipped down the water worn stone steps that in the summer would lead to a boat ride, and stepped out onto the ice.

He remembered he had followed her, wanting to grab a hold of her, but she had laughed, then danced out across the ice, six months pregnant.

He had never felt so relieved to get her back to shore.

He looked out as the brightening sunshine reflected off the bleach white snow that lay thick across the ice. He so wished he could see her now, dancing across the frozen river.

When he had met her, he was in a bad place. But she was a different person, a unique soul, a free spirit. She seemed able to reach down into the darkness that permeated his very being and shine in the light. Gradually she was able to lead him back into the daylight, out into the sunshine. And this time, he had been determined it would be different. This time, he was happy to let Maya lead the way.

When Nikki came along, it was as if the world could not get any better or brighter. He was determined that he would be a proper father to her. Like he should have been to Tanya. But as Maya would often tell him, always with a smile, and without any form of foreboding or fear. Life is impermanent, nothing lasts forever. Love each moment and move on to the next. It was as if she knew what was coming.

When he lost her, it left a hole in his life that he knew he would never fill. It threatened to pull him back down into the darkness, and Nikki was the only thing holding him back. He had spread Maya’s ashes out at sea, a place she always loved. He told himself she was not there, because that was what she had told him. The body is just a vessel. Her spirit was out there, dancing across the waves in the moonlight. And in a way, it was true. He saw it every time Nikki smiled. She was the only thing he had left to hold on to. The only thing that had any meaning. No one was ever going to take her away from him.

Vasili appeared, middle of the afternoon. Walker was sat in the corner of the restaurant. He had been there for the last couple of hours. Yuri had pestered him to eat, but he had waved him away, and then been left alone. He had called Theo, but he had no more to offer, only that the sending phone was now dead.

“God, I’m starving.” Vasili looked across at Walker. “You hungry?”

Walker had not eaten all day and realized he should eat, even if he didn’t feel like it. He nodded and Vasili called across to Yuri, giving him a detailed order, then came over and sat down. He lit a cigarette and exhaled a long plume of smoke.

“Any luck?” Walker asked.

“Some. I have been talking to some people, and I have also been tracking down our friend.”

He pulled out a smart phone and tapped at the screen, then held it up for Walker to see. It was a head and shoulders shot. The man wore a blue and white striped undershirt beneath a camouflage jacket. On his head, he had a light blue beret with a gold leaf laurel badge on the front with a grinning skull in the center. He was looking directly into the camera. It was a look of quiet arrogance. It was the man in the security footage.

“Airborne, Spetsnaz. - Retired, or should I say, moved into the private sector. His name is Ivan Kurakin, ex Spetsnaz sniper, now freelance hit man. There was a rumor that he was on Viktor’s payroll, but Viktor would never admit to that.”

“Viktor?” Walker asked.

“Viktor Polyakov.”

“Should I know that name?”

“If you knew it, back then it was General Polyakov, KGB.”

Walker shook his head. “Rings no bells for me.”

“Well, that’s in the past. Viktor is part of the new Russia, or he was.”

Walker gave him a quizzical look.

“It’s a long story.” Vasili waved a hand. “Maybe later.”

Vasili continued to study the picture. He tapped the screen with a stubby forefinger. “This man is a pro. And pro snipers, especially ex-Spetsnaz snipers, don’t come cheap. But this man is special. You see this.” He pulled up the picture from the security camera, making it larger using his finger and thumb, and zoomed into the man’s hand. The man was holding the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder.

Walker could make out a tattoo on the back of his hand.

“What’s that, a scorpion?”

“A black scorpion. It signifies an elite Spetsnaz unit. They operated off the books and are freelance now. They usually say if the Black Scorpion are looking for you, better put your affairs in order.”

“Never mind my affairs. We need to find a link to Nikki.”

Yuri arrived at the table with their order. Char-grilled steaks, crispy onion rings, and thick cut french fries.

Vasili picked up his fork and steak knife. “I think we should eat.”

Walker cut in to the steak and blood oozed out onto the plate. He pushed the chunk into his mouth and chewed. The flavor burst onto his tongue. He realized he really was starving. “Nice steak.”

“The best, New York aged sirloin. I have it imported especially. It is a house favorite.”

“I suppose you’ll be giving me the bill.”

“You have a much bigger bill to pay than that.”

Walker knew he was right. He continued eating his steak in silence. He eventually pushed his plate away and took a pull from the beer glass in front of him.

“We are missing something here.”

“What’s that?”

“How many people knew where I lived?” He looked across at Vasili. “As far as I know - only you.”

Vasili held up his hands. “I can assure you, I told no one. And none of my acquaintances even knew you were married to my daughter. I can assure you it did not come from my side.” He lit a cigarette and watched the plume of bluish smoke drift across the empty restaurant. “That leaves your old employers.”

A myriad of images flicked through Walker’s mind. “As far as I know, I’m a sealed file, and it’s over twenty years since we parted company.”

“So tell me what I’ve missed.”

Walker shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Well, while you think about that. I said I have been doing some checking. This is not the Russians, at least not the ones you are thinking of. I told you, the ones who mattered are all dead. I was right about that, and besides, if it was our friends in the Vor, they would have taken me instead.”

“Or both of us.”

Walker knew who he was talking about - The Vor, Vorovskoy Mir, Thieves World, the Russian Mafiya.

Vasili grinned. “Whatever. They would have already cut off our fingers and toes, and now would be frying our livers and perhaps our eye balls over hot coals.”

“I was thinking the same thing. If I thought for one moment it was really them, I would never have cut loose.”

The smile disappeared from Vasili’s face. “Let us hope you are right about that.”

“So who is it?”

“Maybe we should come back closer to home. This Ivan worked for Viktor Polyakov. What do they say about Occam’s razor? Cut out the unnecessary.”

“The simplest explanation is often the answer.”

“Exactly.”

“But what have I to do with Viktor Polyakov?”

“Whatever it is, if this link is to Viktor, then he has something special in mind for you.”

“Any ideas what?”

“Viktor has his fingers in many pies.”

“So, if you’re right, where do we go from here?”

“I am thinking about it.”

“Maybe we should ask him.”

“You don’t mind going into the lion’s den?”

“I’ll go into hell itself if I have to.”

“Viktor holds court in the Atrium of the Kempinski Hotel every evening around six.”

“So let’s pay him a visit.”

Vasili looked at his watch.

“We have an hour yet.”

He picked up his phone and tapped on the screen

“I’ve been looking at the security footage of our friend, Ivan.”

“It’s etched on my brain.”

“We know this guy’s a pro. Look at him getting on the boat. You can’t really identify him. But look at him when he gets off. He’d almost looking at the camera.”

Walker studied the picture. Vasili was right. “Why would a pro do this?”

“He wanted you to see him,” Viktor said. “He is saying, come and get me.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Vasili drove a black Mercedes SUV. The traffic was crazy, but Vasili appeared unbothered.

“Are they going to let us in?” Walker asked.

“Viktor is very well protected, but he and I go back a long way. He will let me in to see him just to hear what I have to say.”

“So what are you going to do? Just ask him? Did he hire Ivan Kurakin? Did he take Nikki?”

Vasili smiled. “Viktor and I have a checkered history. But I know him. I just need to look into his eyes. Then I’ll know.”

“I’m feeling a little naked stepping into — what you did call it? — the lion’s den. Do you have something for me, nice weight, easy to conceal.”

“His Security will only take it off you, and they never give them back.”

Vasili parked the car beside the Moyka river and they took the short walk along the river bank. This was old Russia, its grand opulence a million miles away from the jobless people shuffling along on the street. Vasili pointed out the Yusupov Palace. “That was where they murdered Grigori Rasputin. They shot him in the head. Maybe we’ll get a chance to do the same to Viktor.”

They went in through the grand entrance of the Kempinski Hotel and up a set of wide marble steps. The Atrium was a grand airy reception area with a high glass roof. There was a scattering of tables with a few early drinkers. A woman in a sapphire blue evening dress, her dark hair swept up in an elegant bun, sat at a grand piano playing Rachmaninov. An older man sat at the centre table with two beautiful women. Champagne bubbled in crystal flutes in front of them. He looked up as Walker and Vasili entered. Vasili gave him a wide grin, then stepped forward. A large hulk of a bodyguard blocked his way.

“It is all right, Lev,” the older man called out.

“Wait here,” Vasili said to Walker.

The bodyguard gestured with his hands and Vasili held his arms wide. The guard searched him and removed what looked like a rather ancient Stechkin automatic pistol. He looked at the weapon and smiled, but said nothing. Finally, he seemed satisfied and allowed Vasili to pass. Vasili stepped forward as the older man stood up.

Viktor Polyakov was tall but wide at the centre. He had a thick grey beard and his full head of hair was completely white.

“Vasili,” he opened his arms wide. “Why do you not come and see me anymore?”

He stepped forward and wrapped Vasili in his embrace, and kissed him on the cheek. Vasili kissed him back, like two old friends, greeting after a long time apart.

“I was hoping we could have a word in private.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Let us talk.”

Viktor nodded. “My men will take care of your friend while we talk.”

Vasili gestured towards Walker. A security guard was already giving him the pat down. “You have not met my son-in-law, Robert Walker.”

Viktor looked over towards him. He seemed to study him for a moment, then nodded a brief acknowledgement but said nothing. He turned his back and placed an arm around Viktor’s shoulders.

“So Vasili, what can I do for you?”

He walked him towards an open door and into a small bar. He waved to his bodyguard, who cleared the room of the few drinkers and the barman.

Vasili held up his phone and showed him the picture of Ivan. “We are looking for this man. He was involved in the kidnapping of my son-in-law’s daughter, my granddaughter.”

“Vasili, I’m sorry to hear that, but why are you showing it to me?”

“Because he used to work for you, maybe he still does.”

Viktor’s face cracked into a smile. “Vasili, I have many people who work for me, I don’t know them all.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would remember Ivan.”

Viktor shrugged and studied the image. “So maybe I do remember him. As you said yourself, he used to work for me, not anymore. He is a contract hit man, a specialist sniper. He works for the highest bidder. So good luck with that one, he will find a lot of business here in Mother Russia.”

Viktor reached for the vodka bottle that had been left on the bar. He filled the two glasses beside it and picked up one and downed it with a single gulp. “I hope you find your granddaughter.”

“Oh, I intend to find him. Whoever has taken my little Nikki will wish they never even heard her name.”

Vasili flexed his hand, and a blade slipped out from its quick release forearm sheath. It was in his hand and at Viktor’s throat in the blink of an eye. He poked the point under Viktor's chin and pulled him in close.

“You should really hire better help, Viktor. Now tell me you had nothing to do with the kidnapping of my granddaughter.”

“Vasili, I swear on my mother’s grave, I had no idea.”

“Viktor, you never had a mother. Look at this picture.” Vasili shoved the phone in his free hand in front of Viktor’s face. “Your man, Ivan.”

“He is not my man,” Viktor croaked.

“He was involved in the kidnapping of my granddaughter, my little Nikki.”

“Vasili, I swear, I know nothing about this.”

Vasili pushed his face in close and looked into Viktor’s eyes. “For old times’ sake, I will give you the benefit of the doubt. But I want you to find him. You have the contacts, you can track him down. And when you do, you will tell me. He has taken my little Nikki. That was his first mistake. But someone paid him to take her, and they have just made the biggest mistake of their life.”

Vasili gave a shrug and stepped back. The knife disappeared into his pocket.

Viktor massaged his neck. “People usually know better than to threaten me.”

Vasili shook his head and smiled. “Come now, Viktor, that was hardly a threat. Just a gentle reminder. This is how it goes. I want you to find this Ivan Kurakin and then tell me. Let us call it a token of good faith.”

“What makes you think you will walk out of here alive.”

“Come now Viktor, do you think I would walk in here without just a little insurance? Besides, this is a very public place and I hear you are trying to keep a low profile. I hear that boy of yours is currently favorite to become the next mayor of our little town. I know the official story is, you and he do not see eye to eye these days, but I have photographic evidence of the two of you having dinner in Moscow only last month.

“What were you doing, briefing him before his meeting with President Putin, or debriefing him after? Simple enough to work out, but that's not really the point. It seems you and your boy are not as far apart as people would think, especially our beloved leader. I don't think you want any bad publicity right now, or any spotlight on you. We both understand families.”

Viktor’s body guards reappeared as he reached the door. Vasili turned back towards him. “Don’t forget our little deal.”

Walker was standing over by the exit.

“Best not hang around,” Vasili called out as he headed down the stairs towards the entrance. “Viktor can be a vindictive bastard when he is pissed. And I can tell you he is pissed right now.”

They headed back to the car at a run. Vasili held up a hand as they approached the SUV, still parked where they had left it. He crouched down and checked underneath, working his way around the vehicle. Finally he stood up and nodded to Walker.

“You cannot be too careful around here, not where Viktor is concerned.” Vasili climbed inside and started the engine.

“So tell me about your little game back there. What was that all about?”

“I needed to look into his eyes. You can learn a lot about a man when you look beyond what he is showing.”

“So, was he telling the truth about Nikki?” Walker asked. “What did you see?”

“He did his best to hide it. That is why I needed to be up close to see it.”

“Vasili, what did you see?”

Vasili reversed out, then gunned the engine up the road. “Son of a bitch was lying through his teeth. But that’s not all I saw.”

Walker held his tongue and waited.

“I saw surprise.”

“What was he surprised about?”

Vasili’s face cracked into a grin. “He was surprised when he saw you.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Viktor Polyakov stood at the bar, gripping the brass handrail with both hands. His whole body was shaking. Not visibly but deep within him. He felt as if he might rip the rail from its mounts.

It was not the knife at his throat. He had had much worse than that threaten his life. No, this threatened much more than that. Vasili was just fishing, he was sure. But his visit had threatened everything he stood for, his entire existence.

He looked down the bar to where Lev, his bodyguard had placed the gun he had taken from Vasili. He had removed the magazine and placed it beside it. Viktor picked up the Stechkin. It was still familiar after all these years. It was a gun his father had given him. He still remembered how it came into Vasili’s possession. A stupid wager. He picked up the magazine. It was empty. He slid it back in place and placed the gun back on the bar and looked down at the single 9mm steel jacket bullet lying beside it. Lev would have ejected it out of the breach. A gun with a single bullet. Vasili always like his subtle messages.

The vodka bottle was still on the bar. Viktor sank another vodka, then waved at his bodyguards to give him the room. He poured himself another, then took out a special phone from his pocket and tapped in a message. The call bounced around the world, hiding both its origin and destination and using a special encrypted messaging system.

Viktor picked up the vodka glass. His hand was shaking.

They communicated only by message, rarely in person. Like the old message drops back in the Cold War days. There was a certain nostalgia to it.

He had a cutout, his conduit for most of their communications. It had served him well for the past forty years. The direct message line was only for urgent communications. He looked at the message he had sent. It was written in English, though the recipient spoke excellent Russian. It was part of their protocol. If ever the message was in Russian, the sender had been compromised.

‘I had a visitor. He gave me something of a surprise.’

There was no guarantee of an immediate reply. He picked up the phone and tapped in another message.

‘The reason your man was not on the flight.’ He studied what he had typed, then added.

‘He is here.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“So what do we do now?”

Walker looked across at Vasili, who was driving as fast as he could through the chaotic evening traffic.

“I think we should lie low for a little while. Viktor will not be too happy.”

“Do want you tell me what just happened back there.”

“The idea was to provoke a reaction. Imagine a Picador at the bullfight, sticking a sharp spear into the side of the bull. The bull is liable to charge anyone dangling anything in front of it.” He looked across at Walker and grinned. “We just dangled you.”

Vasili shrugged, still keeping his foot on the gas as much as possible. “Of course I did stick a knife under his chin and threatened to slit his throat. In Viktor’s first flush, he is liable to overreact. So we need to step well back while he calms down. I have people out there with their ear to the ground. They will know the right time to step out.”

“For what?”

Vasili looked across at Walker.

A pedestrian appeared to throw himself in front of the SUV in an attempt to cross the road. Vasili flicked the wheel and missed the man by inches.

“Think about it. Someone, let us assume for now that is Viktor, wants you in Washington. Nikki’s only part in all this is to get you there. Okay, all he has to do is ask.”

Walker wasn’t surprised.

“Me for Nikki.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Walker shook his head. “No, whatever it takes.”

“I have people who can back you up. Once we have Nikki safe, they will step in.”

“That’s comforting to know.”

After an initial confidence that he could get ahead of this, Walker knew he was running out of options. It looked like Vasili was going to get his way after all.

“So what was the deal with the gun? You already said he would take it off you and not give it back. Besides, it looked older than me.”

“Just a little message to Viktor. I won it off him in a poker game a long time ago. It was his favorite weapon. Losing it really pissed him off. I told him I would give him it back when he was ready to confess all his sins. Then he could use it to shoot himself.”

“So you were really poking the bull.”

Vasili grinned but didn’t say anything.

“Okay, we may get a reaction, but I still don't understand why. Without that we’re at a disadvantage, and that means less of chance of bargaining for Nikki’s life. What does someone who I have never even met until today want from me?”

“For now, let us not worry about that. We need to force Viktor or whoever he’s working with to make the next step.”

“Are we sure it’s Viktor?”

“You were the one who said you had never met him before today. But he knew you, I’m sure of that. You said the answer is here. So let us find it. Meanwhile, I think it is time that you and I dropped off the radar for a little while. I have a safe house across town, but I need to call at the diner first.”

“Is it safe to go there?”

“Even Viktor would never cause trouble in my place. Too public, too much publicity for Viktor and I can assure you that is not what he wants right now.”

“You were going to tell me about Viktor.”

“And I said later. Then I’ll tell you everything.”

Vasili swerved to miss a man on a motorcycle. “But I do have a theory.”

“Don’t you always?”

“Do want to hear it or not.”

Walker sat back in his seat. Vasili was going to tell it, anyway.

“If Viktor is involved, then the only link between you and him has to be something in your past.”

“But what?”

“That’s what we have to find out. Maybe that can be our bargaining chip. Now, if my theory is right, and Viktor is leading you along. It means he needs you alive for some reason.”

“Which means what?”

“Which means you are also untouchable.”

“You think so after your performance back there?”

Vasili grinned. “Well, maybe we don’t want to test that theory right now.

Vasili navigated his way across town and parked round the back of the diner in the private underground parking. He nodded towards the security barrier. “Don’t worry, no one is getting through there.”

They went up a narrow set of stairs and entered through a door into the kitchen. The place was already busy, and out in the restaurant area, the tables were full and the bar was heaving.

“Business looks good.”

“This place is a goldmine, but it is just a hobby.”

“So what is your main business these days? You were never very clear about it even when I worked for you.”

Vasili stopped and looked back at him. “It changes, depending on the climate. You could say I am a currency trader, but I deal in the modern currency - Information. Sometimes I use it myself, sometimes I sell it on. You trade a piece here for another piece there. It is like a hand of poker. You keep exchanging cards until you have a full house. If you are very lucky, you could have a straight flush.”

“So how about throwing in a few cards and find out what’s going on.”

“I am trying, just give me some time.”

“I’m not sure we have too much of that.”

“You are right about that. Look, I need to check a few things, then we need to move. Why don’t you get yourself a drink.”

Vasili disappeared, so Walker elbowed his way to the bar. He got himself wedged in the corner and caught the barman’s eye, who seemed to recognize him because he came straight over.

“I’ll just have a beer.”

“No problem,” the barman headed back down the bar and returned with a bottle of Heineken. “It is on the house.”

“That’s okay, I’ll pay for it.”

“Sorry, strict orders from the boss.”

Walker gave in and sipped his beer. It seemed like Vasili had done very well for himself if this place was a hobby. But then Vasili did have a stake to get started.

Vasili appeared twenty minutes later. “Come on, we need to go. I have told the boys to be ready for any trouble.”

“I thought you said he would never touch you here.”

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Walker followed Vasili down into the basement parking. Vasili climbed into the driver’s seat of a different Mercedes. Walker got in beside him.

“Change of cars.”

“I need to keep Viktor on his toes.”

Vasili took the car up the ramp, waved at the security guard, and turned out onto the street.

“So where is this place of yours?”

“It is on the outskirts of the city. It is not in my name. No one else knows about it. I find it convenient when I want to disappear for a few days.”

The traffic seemed even worse than before. They crossed the river by the Troitskiy Bridge, in a constant stream of vehicles, each one, it seemed, determined not to give an inch. They headed onto Kamennoostrovksy Prospekt, one of the busiest roads in the center of the city on this side of the river.

Vasili glanced in the mirror and frowned. “I think we have company. That was quick even for Viktor.”

He floored the accelerator, swinging the SUV into the center of the road. Horns screamed as he dodged the oncoming traffic.

“Did they follow us from the diner?”

Vasili shook his head. “No way. I would have spotted them. And besides, I had a couple of the boys run interference until we slipped away.”

The lights ahead were turning red. Vasili stamped hard on the gas and swung the SUV in a suicide dive across the oncoming traffic. He shot forward, then braked hard and swung the SUV hard right. He sped down the road at well over the speed limit, dodging the traffic and the blaring horns. He stamped on the brakes at the last moment and swung into a narrow one way street, barely wide enough for them to pass. Vasili looked again in the rear view mirror. “We may have lost them for now.”

They rounded a corner. A car was heading towards them, coming the wrong way down the one way street. “It seems I was wrong.” Vasili hit the brakes and the two cars came bumper to bumper.

Walker turned to look behind as a pursuing car came to a halt behind them. He looked across at Vasili. “Untouchable?”

“I did say it was a theory.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Armed men dressed in black and wearing full face ski masks bundled out of their car and started shouting.

“How did they find us?”

Vasili looked across at Walker. “They had help.”

Vasili climbed out of the car and put his hands above his head. Walker followed suit. Vasili walked slowly towards the back of the car, trying not to spook anyone. He knelt at the rear wheel arch and ran his hand underneath it. One of the men held a gun to his head. Vasili stood up, slowly, holding a small metal box in his hand.

He smiled. “First time lucky.”

The man with the gun took it off him, and they were both loaded into a lookalike SUV. Walker and Vasili sat side by side, with one man on each side, automatics poking into their ribs.

“Was that?” Walker muttered.

Vasili nodded. “How they found us. A GPS tracker. By the look of it, an FSB special. It seems I need to do some housekeeping of my own.”

“Zamolchi,” the one beside Vasili called out.

Vasili did as he was told and shut up.

The vehicle backed up, then made its way out of the one way system and on to the embankment. They headed out of the city, following the river. The street lamps cast yellow pools out onto the frozen Neva. Further out, the glow of fires flickered in the darkness. Walker knew what they were. Maya had inherited a love of ice fishing from her grandfather, and Walker had sat with her for many happy hours dangling fishing lines through holes in the ice, with a fire burning in an old oil drum propped up on a log base to prevent it melting the ice. And on the lucky occasions that they caught something, she would cook it back at her apartment. That was before they were married, at a glorious time when anything seemed possible. Part of him wished he could be back there, but another part told him that Nikki was not in that world.

The driver slowed rapidly and took a left turn onto a ramp that led down to the river. The driver took the SUV down slowly, then drove out onto the ice.

“Where are we going?” Walker whispered.

“Maybe they are going to drop us through a hole in the ice.”

“Any ideas?”

“Just be ready.”

They headed further out onto the ice. The full beam of the headlights reflected a misty netherworld, with occasional ghostlike figures sitting by their hole in the ice, waiting for the fish to bite. Who knows, in a short time he might be down there sleeping with the fishes. He remembered the line from The Godfather. He wasn’t afraid of dying, but an image of Nikki flashed into his mind, and suddenly he was terrified.

“How far out is it frozen?”

Vasili was staring out into the darkness. “At this time of year, four or five miles out into the Gulf.”

By the time the car stopped, they had left all signs of life behind. The cone of the headlights illuminated a white nothingness surrounded in blackness. The man beside Vasili opened the door and climbed out. The one in the passenger seat poked an Uzi at them.

“Get out.”

Walker and Vasili did as they were told and climbed out onto the ice. In the distance, somewhere out in the darkness, came a low moaning sound, that seemed to echo flat across the ice.

“What the hell is that?” Walker asked.

Vasili smiled. “That, my friend, is the Gulf of Finland.”

But pretty rapidly, the time for smiling was over. Their captors lined up in front of them. The odds were not good. There were six of them in all. One of them stood in front of the others. He seemed to be the one in charge.

“Mister Gordievski.” He looked directly at Vasili and spoke in Russian. “You are going to take a little walk. My colleague here will accompany you.”

“No message?” Vasili said.

The man didn’t respond.

Vasili moved in close to Walker as he walked past. “I was right. You are untouchable,” he whispered in English.

“Move.” The man beside him jabbed Vasili in the ribs with his Uzi.

Vasili gave Walker a last look.

“Find Nikki.”

Walker watched the two of them disappear into the mist. He looked at the man in charge. He couldn’t see his face because of the ski mask. Was this Ivan Kuriakov? But this man seemed shorter and well set. Besides, Kuriakov was a specialist, not a messenger boy.

“Some very important people are very unhappy with you,” the man said switching back to English, with a thick accent.

“You can assure them the feeling is mutual.”

“You need to do as you are told.”

“And what is that?”

“You might want to see this.” He held up a smart phone. “I am only here to give you a message. I have no weapon, so you should think twice about trying to take advantage of me. Especially when you see what I have.” He stepped forward and held up the phone.

A frozen icicle poked into Walker’s heart. It was a picture of Nikki. Her face looked strained. Behind her in the background, President Lincoln sat in stony silence. Walker recognized the Lincoln Memorial. Sitting beside her on the steps, an arm around her shoulders and a smile on his face, was Ivan Kuriakov. He was holding up a newspaper with the front page visible.

“It’s amazing what you can do with Photoshop.”

“I can assure you this is genuine. The picture on the front page was from yesterday’s newspaper. It shows the President awarding the Silver Star to a disabled veteran. I am sure you will find the photograph of your daughter is genuine.”

“So what happens now?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?”

“It is a mile back to the bridge. We will leave your clothes there. If you are lucky and you move fast, you might still have all your toes. If you do not move fast enough, you could still die out here. If you do, so does your daughter. There is a flight tomorrow leaving for Washington D.C. Be on it. If you want her to live. Stay alive and do as you are told.”

* * *

There was a low rumble. Out there, beyond the mist, it seemed to resonate with the vibration Vasili could feel through the soles of his shoes. It was punctuated with cracks that seemed to reverberate off the ice, like distant gunshots.

“I hope he is paying you well.” Vasili called out to the man behind him. “Viktor, I mean. You probably call him Mister Polyakov, or is it just General?”

“Shut up.”

“So, you do not deny it.”

“I said shut up.”

“You know his son is running for election for Mayor. Viktor doesn’t want bad publicity right now. In fact, he wants no personal publicity at all. Given his special relationship with President Putin.”

“I think maybe the cold has got to your brain. But don’t worry, I will soon put an end to that.”

Vasili stopped.

“What are you doing?”

“I think this is far enough.”

“You have to keep walking.”

“Why, so I will be far enough out that no one will ever find me. So that when the ice melts in the spring, I will just slip into the depths. No, I think I will choose my own place for it to end. And I choose right here.”

Vasili half turned. The man had stopped about six feet away. His automatic weapon aimed steadily at Vasili.

“The fishermen still come out this far. They could still find me. Do you know the last person I visited was Viktor. I am sure the police will start there. It proves nothing, but it will put the spotlight on your boss at a time when he is trying to keep his head down. He will probably blame you.”

“I told you to shut up.”

“What are you going to do, shoot me? Then drag me the rest of the way. How far is that? Another half mile, a mile? Viktor will not be happy if you screw this up.”

“I told you to keep walking.”

Vasili dropped to his knees.

“Get up.” The man took a step closer, gesturing with his weapon.

Vasili looked up at him. He was being obstinate, but not threatening. He flexed his forearm and felt the blade drop into his hand. The pat down had been thorough enough, but he had held his arms above his head. He swept up his arm, with all the force he could muster, releasing the blade at the last moment.

The man suddenly froze like the surroundings, the knife buried up to the hilt in his throat. Vasili moved aside as he collapsed, blood splashing freely onto the ice as he gurgled away the last moments of his life. Vasili retrieved his knife, wiped it on the man’s jacket, then swept up his weapon and headed back the way he had come.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The man tossed Walker’s clothes through the open back window of the SUV parked in front of the other. They had left him with his shorts and t-shirt and his thin pair of socks. But already he could feel the cold seeping into his feet.

“I am giving you a fighting chance. The man pointed back the way they had come. If I were you, I would start moving.”

Walker assumed the man was smiling underneath the ski mask. The man jerked suddenly. His body seemed to explode, splattering blood across the pristine white ice. All in the split second before the sound of automatic gunfire reverberated out of the darkness. The man by the front car swept around his weapon, firing wildly into the mist.

Walker grabbed the one closest to him who was still trying to work out what was happening and did his best to tear his head off. The man collapsed on to the ice and Walker scooped up his weapon, an Uzi. He pressed the trigger and sent a spray of bullet in search of the remaining man by the car who dived for the cover of the SUV at the rear.

The Uzi clicked on an empty magazine, but it had two magazines taped together. Walker pulled out the empty one, turned it around, jammed in the full one, and continued firing.

Bullet holes punched into the SUV in front, stitching a line along its body. A man struggled out through the driver’s door, firing into the darkness, but was immediately cut down. The vehicle erupted with a huge whump and burst into flames. The engine of the second SUV caught and began to reverse away, but already the flames were consuming it. The door opened, and the driver staggered out. He appeared to have already been hit. He slipped on the ice and a deadly burst of fire ripped into his body.

Walker kept on firing. Bullets tore into the SUV and into the ice. The firing mechanism locked as the magazine emptied. A strange quiet seemed to fall upon them, apart from the moan of the Gulf in the darkness and the raging flames rapidly consuming both cars.

The vehicle at the rear sank up to its axles with a bang, its headlights still shining across the ice. Then another crack and it sank out of sight, taking the body of the driver with it. Its lights continued to glow momentarily, then were extinguished.

The man who had been hiding behind it was suddenly exposed. He skirted the fast growing hole in the ice and came running out, directly towards Walker. Walker couldn’t take his eyes off him as the ice cracked open behind him. The man stumbled, then scrambled to his feet. For a moment he looked like he would make it. Then a huge fissure opened up behind him and he disappeared into the black depths.

“Run, you stupid bastard.” Vasili came racing out of the mist as if the devil were behind him.

Walker stood mesmerized by the ice cracking all around him.

Then a new sound pierced the silence, like straining, then cracked like a gunshot, and cracked again.

The ice gave up a massive groan. A huge fissure appeared from beneath the remaining burning vehicle, taking one of the injured men lying on the ice. The cracks rapidly expanded in every direction.

The burning SUV suddenly dropped into the icy depths, extinguishing its flames with a huge hiss, and the world seemed to disintegrate, cracks rushing out in every direction.

Walker realized his clothes had just disappeared. The ice cracked again, rushing towards the body of the man who had been in charge. Walker reached out, grabbing hold of him by the front of his padded jacket and dragged him clear. He quickly stripped off the jacket and the man’s boots. He started removing his trousers when a huge fissure rushed towards him. Walker grabbed the coat and boots and ran, following the fleeting figure of Vasili, who was already disappearing into the mist.

Walker had slowed to a jog as the cracking ice receded. He pulled on the padded jacket, which extended almost to his knees, and shoved his feet into the boots. They were about two sizes too big, but he tightened the laces as tight as he could with his frozen fingers and set off into the mist.

He could just make out Vasili walking just ahead of him. The cold was unbelievable, as if it had found its way deep into his bones. His legs were totally numb, and despite the boots, it felt as if he was trudging along on dead lumps of meat. He was beginning to worry about frostbite. But he couldn’t do anything about that at the moment, except quicken his pace and catch up with Vasili.

They plodded on in silence, side by side.

“It would have been nice if you had kept one of the cars,” Vasili eventually muttered.

“Sorry about that, but they were occupied by maniacs trying to kill us.”

“You can keep the sarcasm. Remember, I saved your life.”

Walker wanted to come back with a witty reply, but he knew he was wasting his time. He fell silent and trudged on. The numbness seemed to be working its way up his body.

“What’s that?” Walker’s croak came as quite a shock.

He followed his own outstretched arm. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks, but Vasili could see it, too. A feint glow in the distance.

Despite their exhaustion, they both began to run. The glow solidified into a large oil drum with a fire blazing inside. It stood on a couple of cut down railway sleepers to keep the hot metal from the ice in the centre of the fishing site. They rushed up, panting desperately, and thrust their hands into the flames. An old man sat by a hole in the ice, smoking a pipe and dangling a handful of fishing lines into the dark water. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised.

“Cold night for a walk,” he said in a thick accent that Walker could barely understand.

Vasili looks across at a battered Lada parked on the ice. “Can you give us a lift into town?”

The man studied him, then looked down into the fishing hole.

“I’ll pay you.” Vasili prompted. “In American Dollars.”

The man began winding in his lines. “The fish were not biting tonight.” He tapped out his pipe, then got to his feet and scooped up a large armful of snow, which he dumped into the oil barrel. The flames extinguished with a hiss and a great plume of smoke.

They climbed into the car, and the man held out his hand for the money. Vasili counted out the notes. He flashed a grin across at Walker. “Good thing I always keep some US dollars handy.”

Walker barely heard him.

The man turned the ignition key, but the engine seemed to sigh in a strangely tired way.

“She is like a woman, she needs time.”

Finally, the engine burst into life and they rattled off across the ice. The only good thing about the car was the heater. Which Walker would take any day. The man seemed to be driving into the white nothingness as if his brain was a magnetic compass, which had to be the case because eventually they reached the ramp on the riverbank.

The car struggled to climb the incline. The driver appeared unperturbed. Finally, the Lada wheezed its way to the top, and they headed into town. Vasili pointed out where to drop them and the old man drove off, leaving them by the side of the road.

“We need a taxi. I won’t trust calling home for now. At least not until I work out how someone managed to plant a tracker on my car.”

Vasili held the phone to his ear and called a cab.

While they were waiting, Walker told him about the photograph of Nikki that Viktor’s man had shown him.

“Well, that was an answer of sorts. They didn’t kill you. I suppose that means something. What they just tried to subject you to, is known as the Long Walk, meant to teach you a lesson but not kill you, though that could still happen. Many have returned minus a few fingers, a few toes, maybe even a foot.”

Walker was acutely aware he was standing there with no trousers, in a pair of outsized boots that extended up beyond his ankles, and a thick stuffed jacket two sizes too big for him.

“If we don’t get inside soon, that’s not all that will be dropping off.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Vasili’s safe house turned out to be a large penthouse on the top floor of an upmarket modern building in the north of the city. Vasili let them into a tastefully furnished apartment with a magnificent nighttime view of the city.

“You should get into a hot bath. I will light the fire.”

Walker found the bathroom. It was as big as a mid-size bedroom and had a large egg shaped bath with gold taps. He turned on the water as hot as he could stand it, and tipped in half a bottle of bubble bath. He pulled off the boots with fingers he could barely feel, then stripped off the padded jacket and what little clothes he had. He checked the water was as hot as he could stand and stepped in. The pain was exquisite. He sat down, holding onto his bits and holding back a scream, letting the hot water penetrate deep into his bones, then slipped beneath the bubbles, letting the heat defrost his brain.

He eventually came up for air, then laid there, his head poking out from the bubbles, while sleep tugged at his consciousness, and the whole crazy evening unfolded in his head. He was too tired to work his way through the details right now, apart from the thing foremost in his mind. Nikki was alive, at least as of yesterday.

Eventually, he climbed out and dried himself with a large bath towel, then pulled on a bathrobe that was hanging on the wall. He sat on the edge of the bath and examined his feet. The feeling was coming back, and they were tingling like hell. Still, his toes seemed to have survived the ordeal. Despite being too big, the boots probably saved him from frostbite.

Vasili already had a pile of logs burning fiercely in the hearth when Walker wandered out into the main living area. He was seated in a large armchair drinking vodka.

“How are you feeling?”

“All the important pieces are still in place.”

“We should be grateful for small mercies.” He grinned and gestured with a flick of his hand. “There is vodka, and a bottle of Bourbon behind the bar. Help yourself.”

Walker wandered over to a compact wet bar and poured a generous slug of Jack Daniels.

“So, Mister Untouchable,” Vasili said. “It seems I was right.”

Walker had an almost surreal feeling of being back on the ice in complete silence. No one firing at him. Just before the ice cracked.

“Are we sure it’s Viktor?”

Vasili flashed a toothy grin. “Really? Besides, the ice walk, he is famous for it. He either sends you out to the sea, or you get to walk back. There are people limping around St. Petersburg, minus a few toes, who will not step out of line again. It sends out a powerful message.”

“Okay, so we assume it’s Viktor. But why?”

“We already said it. Someone is leading you by the nose. Look at it. Our sniper leaves his gun for you to find.”

“Maybe he was just dumping it.”

“He was ten yards from the sea. No, he was leaving you a message. A professional sniper’s weapon, a Russian weapon. A clear message. They can take you out at any time. Then our man, Ivan, looking into the security camera and urging you to come and get him. You were supposed to get on that plane in Paris, but you turn up here. As the man said. The message is, do as you are told.”

“So why didn’t Viktor just dump me at the airport? I could have died out there. What does that tell us?”

“I have been thinking about that. I told you Viktor was a vindictive bastard. The ice walk, that’s him all over. But there’s something else.”

“Which is?”

“Someone else is calling the shots. Viktor doesn't care if you live or die, but the photograph his man showed you of Nikki means that someone else does. And for the moment that someone is keeping you, and Nikki, alive.”

Walker took a large gulp of his bourbon. It wasn’t difficult to agree with. It was a thought that had been tumbling through his head ever since he staggered off the ice.

“Which means I have to play to whoever is the boss. Whoever it is wants me, badly.”

“Viktor never liked taking orders from anyone. He always had to be the one in charge.”

“So this has to be something big if he is the one taking orders.”

Vasili shrugged. “There has to be something big in it for him.”

“So what drives him? You were going to tell me his story.”

Vasili wandered over to the bar and topped up his vodka, then settled back in the armchair.

“Viktor and I worked together in the early days, in the KGB. He was smart and stepped on a few faces on his way up, but I always managed to survive the few attempts he made to make me one of them. Rumor has it that when the Soviet regime was crumbling, Viktor emptied the KGB illegals slush fund, which was rumored to be stuffed with millions of U.S. dollars, and used it to buy his way into a bank. He then persuaded a number of members of the board to take early retirement, a couple he helped on the way with a bullet in the head.

“By the time that Boris Yeltsin was giving away the sweet shop, Viktor was already helping himself out of the shop window. In the loan for shares debacle, the new Russian Federation Government was offering shares in its Government owned companies that fronted its oil and gas reserves as collateral for loans. The shares were vastly undervalued and Viktor got a controlling share in SiberOil, worth conservatively three billion dollars, for about three hundred million. When the economic crisis in Russia really kicked in and the loans became due, the Government now in deep shit, told the banks to keep the shares in payment. At his peak, Viktor owned a number of oil and gas companies, and two banks.”

“At his peak?”

Vasili smiled. “Viktor had a plan. He saw that business needed to drive the new Russia, and who better to take control of that than him. You have to understand about Viktor. Despite everything, he has always been a patriot. Mother Russia always came first for him, even when he was helping himself to her assets. His view was better him than anyone else.

“As I said, he had a plan. He had identified a bright young man who had worked for him in the KGB. Now he introduced him to Boris Yeltsin, got him helping and advising. He knew Boris was on limited time, he wanted his man in place to take over with him pulling the strings. That was the new Russia for Viktor.”

“So what happened?”

Vasili sipped on his vodka. “You could say history happened. The young man’s name was Vladimir Putin, and when he eventually came to power, no small thanks to Viktor and his fat rich friends, he turned on the Oligarchs. It seems there was something of a run on suicides. Men worth billions of dollars who suddenly decided it was all too much for them. Viktor managed to salvage his life. Word has it that it was a courtesy for old times’ sake, but it cost him billions, which all supposedly went into Putin’s personal bank account. Left poor old Viktor down to his last hundred million. It makes you want to weep. And it gets worse. His son, Alexi, Viktor’s pride and joy, is a Putin convert. He worships the man. He has been part of his inner circle and now he’s here in St. Petersburg, planning to become the next mayor. Apparently, he has Putin’s blessing, which means he is a ‘shoo-in’. The ultimate betrayal.”

“Stop, you’re making me weep.”

Walker got up and went over to the bar and helped himself to another generous shot of bourbon.

“Viktor is a man with a chip on his shoulder and a burning need for revenge. As far as Viktor is concerned, Putin has taken everything from him. But what is worse, he is damaging mother Russia, and Viktor won’t allow that.”

“So what is he going to do?”

“There are cynics out there who believe this fall out with his son is all part of Viktor’s plan. The people I speak to tell me that Viktor and his son are not as estranged as their public persona would have you think.”

“But what the hell has that to do with me?”

“I have no idea.” Vasili shook his head. “But trust me, there’s a method in there somewhere.”

“But what is the end goal and why am I involved? Someone has taken Nikki to get to me. But what do they want?”

“Whatever it is, for now you have to do as they tell you.”

“The fact remains. Once they have me, the chances of Nikki's survival drop dramatically.”

“But whatever they have planned for you must be something you have to do for them. They have had plenty of chances to kill you.”

“Maybe they just want me to suffer.”

“If Viktor had wanted that, he would have left you out on the ice. That was him showing his sense of humor. He wants you in Washington and he has made it clear what will happen to Nikki if you don't do as you are told.”

“What is it they say about horses and water?”

“Dammit, Robert, Nikki's life is at stake. Her safety comes first.”

“I know that.”

“Then you had better be on that plane tomorrow.”

“I’m going to need a Russian visa and immigration entry stamps in my passport, otherwise they won’t let me out.”

“I know a man who can help you with that.”

“I still think I have to get ahead of this.”

“If anything happens to her.”

“We’ve already had that conversation. But let’s focus on now.”

“How far do you think we can push this before they decide you are just not worth it? We already have some indication that someone else is pulling the strings, and Viktor is not happy with that. Maybe if you push too hard, he will get his way.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Well, our friend Ivan may be a top professional sniper, but I will put money on the fact that he doesn’t have the brains to come up with some elaborate scam. No, Ivan is just the hired help. Which leads us to Viktor, his boss. Now dear Viktor masterminded himself to a vast personal fortune, estimated at one time at twenty billion US dollars, before our illustrious President relieved him of most of it. He knows a thing or two about elaborate scams.”

“But what does he want? From what you have said about him, he still has more money than he can ever need.”

“I would have said what they all want - power. But in Viktor’s case, I am sure it goes deeper than that. With him, I smell revenge. It is something that runs deep in us Russians. I told you he could be a vindictive bastard. For now, I am trying to link the pieces together. With Viktor you always need to take a step back and see the bigger picture.”

“Which is?”

“That is what we need to find out. Whatever it is, for now, you need to do as they tell you. Which means you need to be on that plane to Washington tomorrow.”

“While you’re watching from a distance?”

“They could lead us to Nikki.”

“Don’t you think that’s what they will be expecting? Besides, there are too many things that could go wrong.”

“Have you got a better idea?”

“I know I need to get ahead of this. I need to know what is the link to me? What do they need from me? There’s also the question I asked before. How did they find me? How did they know where I was living?”

“And I already told you, they didn't hear it from me.”

“The only other people who knew where I was living are my old bosses, and that’s supposed to be highly classified.”

“Maybe that’s another reason you need to go back.”

“You say Viktor has a long reach, but that seems a long way even for him.”

“Well, someone told him about you. One thing is clear. You being here was not part of their plan.”

“I’d like to know just what is their plan. Why Washington? How does it link to anything going on here, and why has that got anything to do with me? I haven’t been back there in twenty years.”

“I can think of one thing.” Vasili flashed his teeth in a theatrical smile. “Your old is boss is there.”

Walker looked into his glass, swirling its contents, then sank it in a single gulp. “Well strictly speaking, he was my boss’s boss.”

Vasili shrugged, “Comes down to the same thing.”

“If my old boss’s boss fell over me in the street, he probably wouldn’t even recognize me.”

“It could be of interest to Viktor. It is not everyone’s old boss who is now the President of the United States.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The casket came in through the gates of Arlington Cemetery on a gun carriage, draped in the flag, four marines at each side, one out front. The attendance was good, from both sides of the house, and many from the administration. George O’Connell, good old George, had been a popular guy. Very popular since his wife died, according to the trashier newspapers, who had christened him ‘Gorgeous George’. The smiling face side of the administration. It was widely cited that he was a very necessary part of securing the President his second term. And as that second term was far from secure, those same newspapers were asking, what happens now?

The President stood out front next to his wife. They were playing the war hero card big time. George had served as a marine in Vietnam. He was captured near the end of the war and had been released as part of the peace deal. He had been awarded the Silver Star for gallantry in combat. It helped deflect from the man who couldn’t keep it in his trousers story that those same trashier newspapers were running.

George O’Connell had been a Catholic, and the priest had given a rose tinted and somewhat fictitious eulogy on the life of this good and godly man. The shrill notes of the bugle cut across the chill morning, echoing from the hillside, followed by the crash of the gun salute. The marine who had led the gun carriage finished the ceremonial folding of the flag and approached the Vice President’s daughter. He stood to attention, then handed the flag to her, with the thanks of a grateful nation.

They came up one by one after that.

The President was first in line. He was a tall man with a full head of iron grey hair. His grim face suited the occasion, but in truth, the only time he smiled these days was for the cameras. He recognized the man standing beside her. He gave him an awkward nod. The man’s face remained grim as he nodded back.

“Julia, I’m so sorry. But he had a good life, and I was proud to call him my friend.”

Julia O’Connell gave him a forced smile, then seemed relieved when he moved on. The next in line was a tall man, white hair and a handsome face. He gave the daughter a kiss on the cheek and a few whispered words of comfort, then moved on. The man gave a respectful smile as he approached the President, who was now standing looking on.

“Bryce, good to see you.” The President said as he took the man’s held out hand.

“Could have been better circumstances.”

“Hey, George wouldn’t have complained.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Do you have some time?”

“For you Mister President, whatever you want.”

“Come back with me in the car, we need to talk.”

It was another twenty minutes before President Jack Tasker climbed into the back of the Presidential limousine. Bryce Colbert climbed in beside him and the car pulled away.

“I’m truly sorry about George,” Bryce Colbert said. “Came as quite a shock,”

“Accident waiting to happen.” The President gazed out of the window at the rows of white tombstones reflecting in the morning sunshine. “He wasn’t as young as he once was, I think George forgot that.”

Bryce Colbert sat back and waited for the President to come to the reason they were sitting there. Jake Tasker continued staring out the window, as if the answers were out there. He seemed to nod his head as if he was making up his mind.

“Well, he’s gone now. And I have some decisions to make.” The President looked across at Colbert. “Which is why we’re here.”

Bryce Colbert found himself holding his breath.

“You remember what we discussed at Camp David last fall. Mind you back then we were talking about when George retired.”

“I remember.”

“I’m still of the opinion that we would be better to wait, but life seems to have its own way of taking away that luxury. Back then, George was going to help me secure my second term, with a plan that was going to give our new boy all the experience and the exposure he needed. He was going to be a ’shoo-in’ when it came to the time. Now I’m not so sure.”

“I think he’s ready.”

“Convince me.”

“If I have to convince you, I’m wasting my time. You have to want this. The question is, do you think you can wait? If you go with someone else, with your current ratings, the plan we discussed for the next administration could be blown off track.”

“Off track?” The President gave a wry grin. “You mean I could be a one trick pony, one term and I’m gone.”

“I’m only stating what the polls are saying. You need a different strategy, you need to change the rules.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know. But I still think we could be pushing too much?”

“Do you have a choice? You need a new face. The American people need to see you in a different light.”

“What do you suggest, plastic surgery?” The President flashed a perfect set of white teeth. He was a handsome man when he smiled.

“You don’t just need a new Vice President, you need the Golden Couple.”

The President helped himself to a bourbon from the built in mini-bar. He held up the decanter to Colbert. Colbert shook his head.

“Jennifer is going to play a major part in this. Her popularity is the rule change that could make all the difference. We need her onboard.”

“You want me to put your son and your daughter-in-law as the fresh new face of my administration.”

Bryce Colbert shrugged. “Tell me I’m wrong, Mister President.”

The President pondered the contents of his glass. “Do you think she’ll go for it? I get the impression I’m not her number one choice for President.”

“Jennifer is dedicated to her husband. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her.”

The President downed his bourbon. “Okay, Bryce, I’m going to take a chance, but I need you behind it, making it happen.”

“Don’t worry Mister President, you can rely on me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Vasili had produced his passport with all the required stamps and thrown in a couple of credit cards by noon the next day. The passport was his own, but the credit cards were in the name of John Chandler. Vasili had reminded him it was all going on his bill.

Walker arrived at Sheremetyevo Airport in plenty of time. He appeared to be reading something on his smartphone as he shuffled along in the line. He looked the Immigration Officer in the eye as he handed over his passport and boarding pass. The Immigration Office gave him the hard stare. Walker had been here before.

He still had an hour before the flight left, so he took a seat at the bar and ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks. He caught his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He always thought he looked in good shape for a man closer to sixty than he was to fifty. His hair and beard were clipped short, the way that Nikki liked it, and he like to think he had more dark hair than gray. But it was his eyes that gave him away. Maybe it was just his imagination, but if he looked closer, deeper, he could see it - Fear.

The local news station, Москва 24, was showing on the large flat screen TV behind the bar. It was a rerun of the Vice President’s funeral, Honor Guard lined up in Arlington Cemetery, arms presented.

The President was there, grim faced, just the way he remembered him. The Vice President’s daughter, dressed in black, stood front and center, looking surprisingly strong, back straight and head held high, accepted the folded flag and the thanks of a grateful nation. Walker recognized the man standing next to her. It nudged an old memory. He allowed himself a hint of a smile.

His old boss looked mighty close to the VP’s daughter. He may not have moved up in the agency, from what he had heard, but it looked like he had moved up in the world.

His Russian was a little rusty, but he got the drift of what was being said. They were making a big deal of the suggestion that the Vice President was in bed with a prostitute when he died.

Is that what he was going back to?

He looked at his watch. He had thirty minutes to departure. He had waited until the last moment on purpose. He paid the bill and headed for the check-in desk. He didn’t know if anyone was watching him. At this stage, he didn’t care, he just knew he had to get on the plane.

He showed his boarding pass and passport, then made his way onboard. Vasili had booked him a seat in Business Class, or rather someone working for Vasili had. No doubt if Vasili had done it, he would be sitting in a middle seat somewhere near the back.

He accepted the glass of champagne from the flight attendant and settled back in his seat. The seat next to him was empty. He hoped it would stay that way. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He still couldn’t believe he was going back, after all this time. He had promised himself that was all in his past, all neatly parceled up and stowed away, all the bad memories, all the regrets.

* * *

Washington emerged out of a light snowfall. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the snow clouds had darkened the sky and already lights were springing up like random fairy lights across the city. He had changed planes in New York. The temptation had been to skip there, but he knew that was never going to work. He had to announce his arrival first. The fact that he would be landing at Ronald Reagan airport rather than Dulles International was something he was sure, with all their resources, they could work out. And the benefit was, Reagan was like landing downtown.

The aircraft swept over the dark Potomac and the stone sitting in his gut seemed to get even colder. He wasn’t sure if it was just being back here, or because Nikki was down there somewhere.

The pilot had assured them the weather would not be a problem for their landing. He was right, and the plane settled gently onto the runway before taxiing in to the terminal.

The woman on immigration studied him, asked a few questions. The purpose of his visit. Why he had been away so long? He said he was retired and was here to visit some old friends. He was using his own passport. He was sure it would have raised flags somewhere in the depths of Langley, or in any of its myriad of sister server sites. Those would not be the only flags raised. They would know he was on the flight. They would be out there waiting.

He ignored the myriad of people crowding around the exit, many of them holding up signs with passenger’s names on them. He pushed through and headed for the door. A movement caught his eye amidst the general jostle of the crowd. Someone pushing across towards him. He headed out through the sliding doors. No doubt they would have someone out here waiting.

There was a long line waiting for taxis that were stacked up by the sidewalk. He stepped out onto the road and dashed in front of a BMW SUV. The driver leaned on the horn as Walker skipped out of the way. He crossed out onto what the Uber app told him was Smith Boulevard and spotted his Uber waiting by the curb.

“Mister Chandler?” The driver smiled as he climbed in the back.

“That’s me.” Walker held up the Uber app on his iPhone.

The driver put the car in gear, and the car pulled away. Walker looked out of the rear window as two men pushed through the crowded sidewalk. He had set up the Uber account while he was waiting at JFK using one of the credit cards Vasili had given him. Things seemed to have worked out fine. He hoped that was a sign of things to come.

He had a reservation at the Randolph hotel, no doubt they knew that. He just needed to stay one step ahead. He checked in, using his own credit card, and told the girl on the desk he was staying for a week. He took the elevator to the third floor, then took the stairs back down all the way to the basement.

It was time to send them a message. A vision of Nikki sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial flashed into his mind. He had to be right about this - he had no choice.

He turned right onto Massachusetts Avenue, then hung a left until he found what he was looking for. Vasili had told him to go to the carpark, 2nd floor and look for a dark blue BMW 3 series. He found it tucked away in the corner. He double checked the plate, then casually walked up to the nearside rear wheel and found the keys as promised, magnetically attached to the wheel arch. The ticket was in the glove compartment. Stamped for an hour ago.

He drove out of the carpark and made his way back onto Mass Avenue and headed west. He stopped off at a shopping mall and bought a laptop computer, and a prepaid phone, then found a hotel just off Dupont Circle.

The Buckingham Inn was a lot less grand than its name suggested and certainly way down from the Randolph. It could be best described as value for money. It had what looked like a reasonably secure car park and announced free Wi-Fi. The room was clean and functional. He dropped his bag and collapsed on the bed.

A voice inside his head was telling him he was way out on a limb here, and he was doing his best to ignore it. He didn’t call Vasili. They had said all they needed to say.

He and Vasili had argued - a lot.

Vasili’s idea was he should let them take him, then for Vasili, to shadow them and let them lead him to Nikki. But there were too many things that could go wrong with that, and once they had him, he would lose his edge. And besides, he knew he was the person to save her. That was not his ego talking - It was her mother.

Vasili had relented eventually. Walker had made Vasili’s job clear. The only solid lead they had was Viktor, and Vasili needed to stay close to him, find out what he could from that end, and try not to kill him - yet.

He almost drifted off, but something dragged him back. He sat up on the bed. This was not the time to sleep. He still had things to do. He opened the laptop, got himself connected to the Internet, and created a junk email account on Google. He sent a message to a cut-out email account they had set up before he left St. Petersburg. He kept it simple.

Is the meeting set?

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Lauinger Library, Pierce Reading Room, 10 am.

That was the message Vasili had left in the cut-out mailbox, and what greeted him when he awoke at six. Vasili was never a man to give lots of notice. A quick Google told him that the Joseph Mark Lauinger Memorial Library was the main library of Georgetown University. There were no Metro stops close by to it and according to Google, the best way to get there was to take the D6 bus from DuPont Circle, then walk the last part.

Walker left the car parked in the hotel car park and took the Metro to DuPont Circle. The D6 bus was just arriving as he stepped outside. He tapped in with the metro card he had bought and took a seat at the back of the bus.

He and Vasili had not parted on good terms. They had barked at each other, standing face to face. Walker had tried to make his size count, but Vasili was not backing down. It was a long time since Walker had cursed in Russian. But Vasili was an excellent guide. They had not come to blows, but it had been close. Eventually Vasili had relented and agreed to give Walker’s idea a chance. Walker had said he needed an edge. He needed to know what the link was between himself and Viktor.

Vasili had pondered that for a while.

‘If it is to do with something between you and Viktor, it must be something in your past life, your days with the CIA.’

‘But what? I don’t remember having any involvement with him.’

‘As my old mathematics professor used to say. Two lines may look like they are not related, but if we look closely, we see they are diverging. And if we go back in time, we can perhaps find a place where the two lines crossed. You were once in the CIA, you were once even in Moscow. Viktor was in the KGB. Maybe you crossed paths then.’

‘But that was thirty years ago. What has that got to do with now. And besides, I don’t remember crossing paths with Viktor.’

‘That’s what you need to find out.’

‘So how do you suggest I do that?’

‘You need to talk to the walking encyclopedia on Viktor. And you’re in luck. He lives in Washington these days. If you want the dirt on Viktor, you need to speak to Dimitri.’

‘Who the hell is Dimitri?’

‘Dimitri Petrovski, Victor’s former right-hand man.’

‘Why would he talk to me?’

‘Because he hates Viktor’s guts. Viktor had him kicked out of the KGB, without his pension, with nothing at all. If Dimitri feels he is putting the knife into Viktor, he will help you.’

‘A guy with a grudge? Nikki’s life is at stake.’ Walker barked at him. He had the distinct feeling that Vasili was not telling all. But then Vasili was always not telling all.

Vasili had given him the look he normally reserved for when he was laying down his hand with a full house. ‘Have you got a better idea?’

He hadn’t.

‘Where can I find him?’

‘He is now an international security expert, living on the Washington lecture circuit. He gives an interesting lecture called The New KGB, you can get it online.’

‘I’m not interested in the new KGB, I’m not even interested in the old one, only as much as it relates to Viktor, and to me.’

‘Trust me, Dimitri knows where the bodies are buried, and as I said, he will do anything to put the knife in on Viktor.’

‘And how do I contact him?’

‘I will call him. Dimitri and I go back a long way. I will set up a meeting and email you the details.’

‘How will I know him?’

Vasili’s bearded face had cracked into a grin.

‘Look for an ancient Russian, with an attitude.’

* * *

Walker followed the Google instructions and walked past Healey Hall, the main administration building on the Georgetown University campus. The Lauinger Library was next door. The two buildings looked very different. Healy Hall was built by the people who had built the Library of Congress, in a grand Flemish Romanesque style, according to Google. ‘Lau’ as most students referred to it, was designed as a brutalist interpretation of its classic neighbor. Whatever that meant. To Walker, it looked like a harsh concrete block. Maybe it did look a little angry. Maybe that’s why it was so popular with the students.

It was built on the side of a hill, so the entrance from the campus came in on the third floor. From what he had read, the library was open 24 hours a day, but to gain access, you needed something called a GOcard. He wondered whose bright idea it was to set a meeting in place with restricted access.

He stood across from the entrance. He had a baseball cap on his head, the peaked pulled down across his eyes. A bunch of young students came out, probably having just pulled an all nighter. A young man followed a short distance behind.

“Excuse me.” Walked stepped up beside him.

The young man looked up at him. He was wearing a ski jacket zipped all the way up, his chin was tucked inside, he had a dark blue woolen hat pulled down over his ears. Long dark hair extended out from it. He looked of Asian extraction.

“Yeah?”

“I wonder if you can help me. I need to get into the library and I don’t have a GOcard.”

The young man looked as if he was about to fall asleep, right there on the sidewalk.

“Can’t get in without a GOcard, man.”

“I know. I was wondering if I could borrow yours.”

“What?”

“I’ll give you fifty bucks.”

At the mention of money, the kid seemed to wake up.

“We’re not supposed to—”

“I know, but you can say you lost it. Look, I only need it for an hour. I have to meet someone inside. It’s important. When I’m done, I’ll leave your card on the front desk.”

“Seems like a dumb place to set a meeting.”

“It’s a long story. Do you want to earn a quick fifty bucks?”

“Look man. I don’t know.”

Walker pulled out a wad of cash and started counting off ten dollar bills. “Look, you’re probably heading back to your dorm. By the time you wake up, you head back to the library and your card’s been handed in. Sounds like an easy fifty bucks to me.” Walker counted out fifty dollars, then added two more tens. “Look there’s a bonus.”

The young man looked at the dollar bills. He didn’t look like an affluent student. The knees were gone from his jeans and the ski jacket he was wearing had a tear on the shoulder, not that it counted for much with young people these days. It had been a long time since he had been a student, but he was pretty sure they still always needed cash.

The young man grabbed hold of the money. “Okay, but I never met you”

“No problem.”

He handed over a plastic access card with his photograph on it. The face was barely discernible, but it looked nothing like Walker. He watched the young man shuffle off towards his dorm, then headed for the main entrance. He pulled down the peak of the baseball cap as the glass doors slid open and he stepped inside.

There was no security guard, but he was sure the security camera, directly across and high on the wall, was watching him. He kept his head down and swiped the GOcard through the reader. The lights on the console went green, and he moved inside.

The Google entry had provided him with a convenient floor plan for each level. He turned right and headed for the Pierce Reading Room. It was a little early, or late, for the main university crowd and just a few tables were occupied. He selected a random book from the nearest shelf and sat down at a table, giving a good view of the door.

Dimitri was punctual. A diminutive man with a neatly trimmed grey beard shuffled in, exactly on time. He wore a fur hat, Moscow style, pulled down over his ears, and a thick, blue Crombie overcoat, reaching almost down to his ankles. Dimitri selected a magazine and wandered over to a table in the corner. He took off his cap, revealing a mop of silver curls, and unbuttoned his coat, then sat down.

Walker looked around. No one appeared to be taking any interest. He got up and walked across the room. He gave a glance around, then sat down opposite Dimitri and started reading.

The old man didn’t acknowledge his arrival.

"Dimitri Petrovski?" Walker said.

“Who is asking?”

“Vasili says hi.”

Dimitri finally looked up. “I hope he has paid my fee.”

Walker caught his first glimpse of the face. It was lined and creased like old parchment, but the blue eyes were bright and sparkling. They didn’t smile.

“Mister Walker, I presume. I see you were able to get in without a problem.”

Walker resisted a witty reply. He simply nodded.

“Vasili insisted. He assured me it would not be a problem, and it dissuades the casual observer.”

“Vasili can be an asshole.”

Dimitri allowed himself a hint of a smile. “Just as I recall.” The smile quickly disappeared. “But you requested this meeting. Shall we get on?”

Walker could see that Vasili was right. Here was an old Russian with an attitude.

“I won’t waste your time, so I’ll get right to the point. Vasili told me you could tell me about Viktor Polyakov. I assume Vasili told you what I was looking for.”

“Why not tell me yourself.”

Walker wanted to get on with it and spend as little time in this place as possible, but he needed Dimitri on his side, so he gave him a rundown on what little he knew, keeping his voice low.

“That sounds like the General.” Dimitri waved a wrinkled hand. “Sorry, old habit, but I still cannot bring myself to call him Viktor. He obviously wants you for something rather badly. He could not bring you into the US by force, or at least not easily. So he forces you to do it yourself.”

“I’m trying to find some link between myself and Viktor, something that has become important after all these years. Important enough for him kidnap my daughter.”

“I am sorry to hear about that.”

“Vasili told me you know all of Viktor’s dirty secrets.”

“Well, most. The General was always a man of dirty little secrets and he guarded them jealously.”

“Can you help me?”

Dimitri smiled at last. “If all I could do was to put a stone in General Polyakov’s shoe, I would do it. Anything to cause him even the slightest pain.”

“Vasili told me you and he had history.”

“History? Pah.” He waved a hand. “After thirty years of dedicated service to the State and to him, the General threw me out, without a word of explanation. Two of his thugs literally threw me out into the street with nothing. They took away my livelihood and my pension. My wife took it worse than I did. She could not take the shame and humiliation.” He paused and stared at the tabletop. “She took her own life.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“The General sent flowers to the funeral.” Dimitri closed his eyes, clenching his fists.

Walker gave him a moment. He was conscious the reading room was filling up.

“What is his link to me? There has to be something. I guess Vasili told you my history.”

Dimitri's face seemed to lose its sadness, and he smiled. “Robert Walker, I was wondering about that name when Vasili called and said you wanted to meet. I never forget a face or a name. Fortunately or unfortunately, I never forget anything. The clinical term is hyperthymesia. A genetic accident which became a unique talent, or maybe a curse. A talent that got me into the KGB, and then thirty years of dedicated service honed and polished it. In the end it did me little good.”

He gave a very Russian shrug. It reminded Walker of Vasili.

“These days maybe I cannot remember where I put my glasses.” He gently tapped the side of his head. “But the old days, they are all in there. And you, your name, I would never forget.”

“Why would you remember me?”

“Because you ruined my life.”

Walker glanced around the room, as if Dimitri had called it out loud. But he knew it was no more than a whisper.

“What did I do?”

“For that, we have to go back to the beginning. My modest talent is what first brought me to the General’s attention. Well, he was not a General back then, he was Colonel Viktor Polyakov. He ran Directorate S, responsible for Illegals, deep cover spies. He brought me in as his assistant. What you Americans would call his ‘gofer’. I served him well.” He seemed to smile at a distant memory.

“He had his fingers in many pies. Much of it was common knowledge inside the directorate. But one thing he guarded jealously was his secret project. Of course I knew about it. A paper on his desk in an unguarded moment, a little more research by me and I had it - Hades. It was his own secret underworld. He ran a number of deep cover illegals here in the United States, but these were his motherlode. He let no one in the directorate into that. Not even me. Well, not on purpose. When he became head of the First Chief Directorate, which was when he was promoted to General, he took me with him and he still hung onto Hades, still ran it personally.”

“So what is the link to me?”

He tapped on the side of his head again. “Even without my little gift, I would still remember it. But I am getting ahead of myself.”

Walker remembered Vasili’s last words about Dimitri.

Be careful, he may talk you to death.

“It was partly by accident, partly by diligent research and analysis, partly by poking my nose in where I should not. The accident was on the General's part. He slipped on the ice and was in traction for a month. He desperately needed to pass some information and a large amount of cash to one of his handlers in the US. He asked me to take it for him. He trusted no one else to do it.

“I came here to Washington and met with a woman. She was a deep cover agent. I gathered she was the handler of the General’s undercover assets. I handed over the information and the money.”

“And then?”

“I was curious, so I followed her. She was good, I will give her that.” Dimitri smiled. “But I was better. She met a couple in a roadside diner. When I got back, I did some research of my own. I had their faces in my head and access to all the center’s records. I put a number of diverse pieces together, but in the end it was the General who gave the final piece to me.

“He had to report to the KGB Director, keep him informed about the product which had kept him in the Director’s good graces, what his assets in the US were producing, and what had been responsible for his success. But the drawback was he had to write it down.” Dimitri smiled. “Which was his weakness. I merely had to pull together all the pieces, and eventually I had it. The General’s greatest creation. The couple in the diner — January.”

Walker shook his head. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“You would not have, not by that name. If you remember your classical story telling, January was named after the Roman God Janus. The infamous God with two faces. In Viktor’s case, facing East and West. And for Viktor’s January, the two faces were two people. January was a team, husband and wife. They were running their own assets, buried deep inside the belly of the main enemy - The United States of America.”

There was a glint in Dimitri’s eye.

“Their deep cover names were Matt and Helen Sterling, the perfect couple. Do you remember them now?”

It was a long time ago, but the recall for Walker was instant.

“How could I ever forget.”

“Everything might have been fine after that, if you had not stepped in and screwed it up for all of us.”

Walker sat looking at Dimitri. He did not have to search back into his memory. It was a disaster that stood out. “I remember, we got a tip off that Matt Sterling was a deep cover KGB agent. Well, more precisely, I got a tip off. But they knew we were coming. When we entered the house, Matt Sterling shot his wife, then himself.”

Walker could remember it clearly now.

“The official story was that Matt Sterling was a property developer whose business was going belly up. He’d worked on some Government properties, so the speculation was he’d tried to sell some information to the Soviets. In the end, nothing could be proved and that was that. A tragic murder and suicide.”

“Of course that was all bullshit,” Dimitri said. “The Sterlings were the General’s most precious, deep cover assets.”

But it didn’t end there. Walker could recall it all now. There had been a shit storm. What should have been a massive victory for him and his bosses turned into a total fuckup. The CIA was consumed with paranoia. The FBI were blaming the CIA and vice versa. It had certainly put a dent in his own career. Things had begun to slide from that point on.

“Of course, I never told Viktor that I knew their identity. But he was in his vindictive mood. He was blaming everyone. In particular, me. I suspect that even knowing that their handler existed was enough to condemn me. You were looking for a link between you and Viktor.”

Dimitri stabbed a finger at him.

“You were responsible for the death of his two most valuable agents. You destroyed his pride and joy.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“But they’ve been dead for thirty years.” The reading room was filling up and Walker was attracting unwanted looks. He tried to keep his voice down. “Why now?”

“Whatever it is, you can guarantee it is about something affecting the General, now.” Dimitri paused while a young woman walked by close to their table. He watched her sit down over in the corner and open her laptop. “The General doesn’t waste his time on things that might have been. This is something about now.”

“So how do I find out about that?”

“Sometimes you have to go back to the beginning. If you really want to know about January, you need to talk to someone who knows everything about them.”

“You have someone in mind?”

Dimitri smiled. “You would need to talk to Eleanor. Of course, there is no guarantee that she would want to talk to you.”

“Who is Eleanor?”

An alarm bell began clanging before Dimitri could answer. The Russian glanced around then immediately stood up.

“He has found us.”

Walker looked towards the door. People were already moving towards it. “It’s just a fire alarm. But we should leave.”

Dimitri had already pulled on his fur hat. “Trust me, it is him.”

A voiced announced over the public address system that all visitors should leave the building by the nearest exit.

People were now crowding out of the reading room, bunching up as they all tried to get through the door. Walker put a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder and held him back.

“Let the crowd go.”

A security guard stood outside the door, pointing people in the direction of the exit. Walker waved Dimitri forward as the crowd eased, and started towards the door. The security guard stood there, blonde hair tucked beneath his cap with the security company’s badge on the front, but Walker would have recognized the face anywhere. It was imprinted on his mind.

Ivan Kurakin smiled and stepped into the room, a silenced automatic appeared in his hand.

“Mister Walker, you need to come with me.”

Walker stepped in front of Dimitri. “Not a chance.”

Ivan held out the gun. The tattoo of the black scorpion was clear on the back of his hand.

“What you gonna do, shoot me? Viktor might not like that. His boss will like it even less.”

Ivan gave him a smile that exposed a gold tooth right at the front. “I was told to bring you back alive. They said nothing about what condition you are in.” Ivan took a step forward. “I could shoot you in the kneecap, my boss would forgive me for that.”

“And what would you do, drag me out of here, with me screaming murder? My friend was right, you’re not the thinker in this.”

Ivan did not take the bait. “You.” He flexed the gun at Dimitri. “Over there.”

“Stay behind me,” Walker called out.

Dimitri spoke in Russian, but Walker understood it clearly.

“Tell Viktor to go fuck himself.”

Ivan took a step to the side and fired. The silenced automatic spit once. Walker heard Dimitri gasp.

“No.”

He spun around but he was already too late. Dimitri was lying face down on the floor. He swung back around as Ivan moved in. Walker caught the glint of the needle on the auto inject hypodermic in his fist.

Ivan darted forward, stabbing down with the needle. Walker sidestepped and made a grab for the hand holding the needle, but Ivan twisted away at the last moment. Walker wheeled around, then darted forward. Ivan tracked him round and took a step back, catching the fallen body of Dimitri with his foot as he did. He staggered and almost tripped. Walker stepped in and hit him hard on the side of the face with his fist. Ivan reeled back as Walker moved in fast. Ivan swung in the gun using it as a club. Walker stepped inside it and head butted him hard, catching him on the side of the head.

Ivan staggered back, instinctively bringing up the gun. Walker feinted for the hand holding the weapon, then grabbed for the one holding the hypo. He got his fingers around Ivan's fist, gripping it tight, allowing the momentum to swing it around. The momentary realization showed in Ivan's eyes. Walker felt the resistance but grabbed on with his other hand and stabbed the needle into Ivan’s neck. The auto injector did the rest.

Ivan swept up the gun, the hypo still sticking out from his neck, and pointed it directly at Walker.

Walker stood there and opened his arms.

“What is it to be, Ivan? Shoot me? I already told you, Viktor won’t like that.”

Ivan seemed to lose all resistance. He dropped to his knees. Walker stepped up and wrested the gun from his grip. Ivan knelt there, swaying, a smirk on his face.

“I know where your daughter is. But I think you will have to carry me.”

“Where is she?” Walker pointed the Glock 19 at his head.

Ivan’s smirk turned into a grin. “You will never find her.”

The urge to put a bullet in his brain was almost overpowering. Walker could hear people crowding past outside the room. A woman screamed close by. He glanced behind him. People had stopped and were looking in through the door.

He looked down at Dimitri. A pool of blood was spreading out from his body. He would be giving up no more secrets.

He had to leave, now.

He desperately wanted to smash Ivan’s face in. To pound it to pulp. But he had had to stay in control if Nikki was to have any chance at all.

“Tell your boss you were too late. Dimitri told me everything, and very soon I will have it all. Tell him we’ll talk when I’m ready. And Nikki had better stay safe.”

He pushed the Glock into his trousers. Ivan was still grinning like a fool, kneeling on the floor. Walker turned and pushed his way out through the door.

“The man’s crazy,” he called out. “And he’s got a gun.”

The crowd began screaming again and pushing towards the exit.

Two men in uniform were fighting their way against the flow of the crowd. Walker looked around. He had the floor layout in his head, when he had googled it earlier. He stepped back inside the reading room. Ivan’s head had dropped. Dimitri had not moved. He turned left. The room was now empty. He could see the sign for the emergency EXIT at the far end.

He ran into the crowd as he made it down to the second floor. He pushed himself into the mass of bodies and kept his head down. On the first floor, people were streaming out to a car park at the rear of the building. As he stepped out, an ambulance swept in through the entrance, its klaxon screeching. Fast response, unless they were already expecting the call.

Walker stopped beside a battered people carrier, covered in stickers. It looked like a throwback to his own student days. Except instead of stickers of flowers proclaiming peace and love, it had pictures of caricatured spaceships and laser beams, and the words, They’re Stealing Our Minds, blazoned across the side.

The ambulance came to a stop in front of the rear entrance. Two EMTs in green outfits climbed out, one opened the rear door and removed what looked like a folded wheelchair and disappeared inside.

Expecting a conscious pickup?

Walker had a sudden image of Dimitri lying in a pool of blood.

He fingered the Glock, stuffed in the back of his pants. The sound suppressor was still attached. He couldn’t pull out the gun here. But if he could make it across to the ambulance, maybe he could start asking some questions.

He stepped out from the cover of the van. The sound of sirens echoed through the frosty morning air. He was running out of time.

The screech of a siren close by told him he just had, as a police cruiser swept in through the car park entrance and came to halt beside the ambulance. He ducked back in beside the people carrier as two officers climbed out and disappeared inside the building. Walker didn’t wait. He needed to get inside the ambulance. He was working this out as he went along. There were a lot more things that could go wrong than could go right, but he couldn’t think about that right now.

He was half across the space to the ambulance when the first part came true. Another cruiser swept into the car park. Walker kept moving but changed his direction slightly, veering towards the sidewalk at the rear of the car park. He played the interested bystander as two more police officers scrambled out of the car, guns drawn, and stopped outside the rear entrance of the library. One of them spoke into his radio.

A few moments later, the two EMTs appeared, pushing the wheelchair, accompanied by one of the officers from the first cruiser. Walker could see Ivan sitting in the chair. His head was dropped forward onto his chest.

They maneuvered him down the access ramp. The police officers looked on as the EMTs got Ivan into the back of the ambulance. One stayed inside, the other closed the door, then waved to the officers and climbed into the front. The ambulance klaxon gave a wail and headed out of the car park.

Walker stepped out onto the road. A motor cycle almost ran him down. Walker cursed in its wake as it disappeared in the same direction as the ambulance, but he knew he was only cursing his own failure. There was nothing left here, and his answers had just disappeared down the road.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Walker took a bus to Union Station. He had wiped the Glock clean and ditched it in a trash can. Much as he wanted to hang onto it, it was the murder weapon that had killed Dimitri. And he was the number one suspect. He also took out the burner phone, pulled out the SIM and smashed the phone with the heel of his boot, then tossed it into the bushes. He disposed of the SIM separately before he got on the bus. He wasn’t taking any chances.

He sat at the back, staring out through the window at nothing, as he replayed back in his head what he had told Ivan, implying he knew more than he did. But what did he know?

The Sterlings. He hadn’t thought of them in a long time. He still could only think of them as a tragedy. Despite what everyone had said, and the elaborate story they had wrapped around it, designed specifically to save asses and point fingers. To apportion the blame.

They were enemy spies, but in their own way, they were also patriots, dedicated to their cause, and willing, in the end, to make the ultimate sacrifice.

He got off the bus before his destination and took a walk, letting his memory take its own journey back a long way, thirty years.

Moscow Station.

He couldn’t believe his luck at getting that posting, but he must have been doing something right. He had followed his father into the Marine Corps, convinced that would be his future. But someone else had other ideas. A man had bought him lunch in a place he could never afford and had laid out a new plan for his future. Six weeks later, he had turned up at Langley.

They called it a field tradecraft course, where he learned the basics of spy craft - dead drops, bumps and brush passes, surveillance, and most important of all, surveillance detection. Identifying pick ups and drop offs, following suspects, real and imaginary, running around Washington D.C. like some nocturnal animal, who also came out in daylight too, where sleep was handed out like vacation time.

After a year, they had shipped him out to Camp Peary, officially referred to as an AFETA, an Armed Forces Experimental Training Activity, but known within the CIA as The Farm. A pleasant little place where a bunch of psychotic and psychopathic instructors had tried to kill him and his fellow students in every way imaginable. Along the way teaching them weapon skills and, in particular, how to use almost anything as a weapon.

He remembered one particular instructor who taught them hand-to-hand combat skills, including martial arts like krav maga, jeet kune do, and the intricacies of Brazilian jiu jitsu. He could clearly remember him now, of some Asian origin that was never made clear, but of which elaborate stories abounded. His name was Lau. He stood no more than five foot six and weighed barely 150 pounds dripping wet. But pretty soon, they all learned to fear every inch, every single ounce of his body. He had a simple mantra.

Grow or die.

And he didn't seem to care which one it was.

Having survived that, he was interrogated, beaten, waterboarded and a bunch of other things that even now, if he thought about them, gave him that queazy feeling in his gut. Which was why he rarely did.

But somehow he had survived and learned to speak Russian and German along the way, and according to his instructors, he had even excelled. Which he could only assume was the reason he found himself posted to Moscow Station.

Of course he was still considered a rookie back then, which meant he got all the dirty jobs, sneaking around after dark, pretending to be a local, emptying and filling dead drops. Knowing that if he was caught, expulsion was the preferred option. But not until they had softened him up first in the Lubyanka, the infamous KGB prison and detention centre.

But it wasn’t all bad. He made the run to St. Petersburg once a week, or Leningrad, as it was known back then. He had been doing it for the last couple of months. Traveling on the overnight Red Arrow was one of perks of this particular job. It was a luxury train offering old fashioned, elite Russian service. He was on the way back. Things had not gone well. One of their main dead drops was empty, which usually meant the Joe who was filling it had been taken. His heart was racing as he made the train and sat down at the bar. He ordered vodka with ice.

He had started drinking it when he had first arrived in Moscow. It added to the movie running inside his head. He found out later it was a common rookie trait.

He was relieved when the train had pulled away from the platform. He was on his second vodka when the woman sat down beside him.

“Good evening, Mister Walker, Mister Robert Walker.” He could remember her voice as clearly as if she was sitting next to him now. The way she had enunciated the words thrilled him and scared him at the same time. She was a beautiful woman, her black hair was tied back in a bun, exaggerating the delicate shape of her jawline. She wore a long dark coat, with a thick Siberian Silver Fox collar. She looked as if it had been draped around her shoulders as she stepped off the stage at the Bolshoi.

‘Who are you?’ He had asked, trying to hide the fact that he was suddenly shit scared.

‘Call me a friend. Or at least someone who wants to become a friend.’

They had learned all about this at the Farm. ‘My mother always warned me about talking to strange ladies on trains.’

‘She sounds like a wise lady.’ She had ordered vodka, straight up and sunk it in a single shot. ‘I want you to tell your bosses back in Langley that I know the identity of the KGB’s deepest cover agent in the United States.’

‘Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

She smiled at him. She really was very beautiful. ‘Be here tomorrow on this train. Tell them I want to work for them and as a gesture of good faith, I will give them the name of this spy.’

He learned about this in his training. What he said next would make all the difference.

‘And if I was to find someone to listen to me, what do you want in exchange?’

‘Call it an act of goodwill. I would like an initial payment of one hundred thousand American dollars. In cash.’

The train had jerked to a halt at one of the stations along the way. The woman was up and off the train before he could speak. She stood smiling at him from the platform as the train moved away.

He had gone to see his boss as soon as he got back. His boss had interrogated him, encouraged and cajoled him, and in the end threatened him with the consequences if he screwed it up.

The next evening, he was on the same train. He didn’t see her get on in St. Petersburg. He had stood at the door watching until they had pulled away. Watching the station platform disappear and wondering if that was his career slipping away.

Halfway through the journey, she appeared. She ordered vodka and looked at him.

‘Well?’

‘Give us your information. If it checks out, we’ll talk about the next stage.’

‘And my money?’

‘Be on this train, a week from today.’

So she had told him about Matt and Helen Sterling, and so it had begun.

He could remember his boss had gone into a sweat. Back then, the agency was paranoid. Obsession with moles inside the CIA was tearing it apart and at times it seemed paralyzed, incapable of making any decisions. But it would be another three years before they arrested Aldrich Ames, and the paranoid camp were able to say ‘I told you so’. For now, it seemed that the standard procedure was to shoot the messenger at the slightest hint of trouble.

What they had here was gold dust, that needed only a slight puff by the wrong person to blow it away. So his boss had accompanied him back to the US to report directly to the top floor. The Deputy Director and his assistant had sat and listened, and prodded and poked at his story. But eventually the Deputy Director, a certain Jake Tasker, appeared convinced and authorized him to take the next step.

The CIA didn’t have any powers of arrest, especially in the U.S. So they had assigned him to an FBI contact. He still remembered his name, Ed Cooper. Bit of a bug up his ass character, but he seemed to know what he was doing.

They had staked out the place before going in. He wasn’t sure what triggered it. Cooper had picked the lock on the front door and they were already inside, guns at the ready.

‘Matt Sterling,’ Cooper had called out. ‘FBI.’

No reply. Then a muffled gunshot broke the silence, but it came from above. The sound of the second rang out as they scrambled up the stairs. By the time they made it to the master bedroom, they were both dead.

Matt and Helen Sterling, supposedly the perfect Washington couple.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Walker made it back to the Buckingham Inn. He helped himself to a Jack Daniels from the minibar, kicked off his shoes, and stretched out on the bed. He took a generous gulp and closed his eyes, balancing the plastic cup on his chest, letting the bourbon tingle on the back of his tongue, while trying to shut out the images of Dimitri lying in a bloody pool. One minute he was alive, tossing out his secrets, the next he was dead.

Dimitri had known from the moment the alarm had gone off.

He has found us.

It was as if he knew what was coming.

He barely knew the man, had only met him the once, yet he felt there was a tie between them, a link that had got him killed. He couldn’t help thinking it was his fault.

Something had been tugging at the back of his mind, but all the thoughts that Dimitri had stirred up, along with his memory of the Sterlings, had flooded it away. Now that he had a moment, it came back and sat there like the elephant in the room. Something that had struck him the moment Ivan had stepped into the reading room. But events had pushed it out of the way. The question that was screaming at him now.

How did Ivan know they were there?

His mind was already racing through the alternatives, his subconscious had still been processing it even when his active mind was focused on other things. It was presenting the results to him now.

He had stopped at a back street convenience store on the way back and bought half a dozen burner phones. He paid with cash. The store owner didn’t seem bothered in the least. He pulled out one from his backpack and installed the SIM. It already had some charge, so he dialed a number from memory. Another burner phone. Vasili answered after the second ring.

“What happened? When I did not hear from you, I got worried.”

“A shit storm, that’s what happened. They knew we would be there. Ivan was there, and Dimitri is dead.”

“Robert, I am sorry. Dimitri was a pain in the ass but deep down he was a good man.”

“He should still be a good man. He should be alive and breathing. How did they know we would be there?”

“Maybe you picked up a tale.”

“No way. I may be getting old, but I can still spot a tail and what’s more, I know how to shake a tale. No one followed me.”

“Maybe someone was following Dimitri on the off chance.”

“Do you really believe that? Dimitri Petrovski, who had survived all this time in the life he had lived, was followed to a secret meeting. Even you don’t believe that.”

“So how did they know?”

Walker paused, but his gut told him he was right. “Someone must have told them.”

“How? Only you and I, and Dimitri knew about it.”

“Exactly.”

“What are you saying, Robert?”

“I’m saying that an old bastard, who always thinks that he knows best, had to go his own way.”

“Robert, do you think that I . . .”

“Oh, I know it. I guess it was easy enough. You knew they would bug your phone. Did you use it to send the message to our email cut-out? The one with the meeting details.”

The line went silent. When he spoke again, Vasili had lost all pretension of denial.

“Don't come the all hurt and betrayed, I did what I had to do. I had to have someone there who could observe and follow. I had to take the risk. In my position you would have done exactly the same thing.”

“I would hope with a little more success.”

“But you had to play the hero, and look what happened. This is your fault. You did this. You took away my little girl, you took away my Maya. And now you have lost the only thing I have left of her.” Vasili sounded a little drunk. “Know this. I will do anything to get my little Nikki back safe. If I have to hand you over myself to do it, I will. This is about Nikki. You and I are not worth a damn in all of it.”

“Or Dimitri.”

There was a pause on the line. “I am sorry about Dimitri. That was not supposed to happen. But all that matters is getting Nikki back.”

“So tell me about that. Were you successful? Did your man, who you had watching, manage to track Ivan back to his source? Or is that why you’re drunk?”

Vasili didn’t answer. Maybe he was finishing off the vodka bottle. Finally, he spoke. “An ambulance team arrived and took Ivan away. No doubt they were meant to be collecting you.”

“I saw them.”

“My man followed on a motorcycle, then went silent. My contacts found the ambulance abandoned a few blocks away. My man was in the back. His throat had been cut.”

Walker recollected a man on a motorcycle, almost running him down out the back of the library. “So you got nothing.”

“Maybe if you had gone quietly things would have been different.”

“Listen to me, you old bastard. Nikki is depending on us. Both of us. I need you to find out what is going on. What Viktor wants from me. And why now?”

“And what will you be doing? What did you find out from Dimitri?”

“Enough, but I’ll keep the details to myself for now. You need to focus on your end. I’m sure it links back to Viktor’s days in the KGB when he was running illegals. He had a deep cover man and wife team, code named January.”

“What have they got to with this?”

“They’re the link to me.”

“Which means?”

“That’s what you need to find out. You’re always telling me about these wonderful contacts of yours. Well, use them. Or so help me, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Bryce Colbert’s Town Car Limo came smoothly to a halt outside his son and daughter-in-law’s Georgetown house. It was what was liberally described as a town house, situated on a quiet leafy lane and backing onto the C&O canal. His driver got out and opened the rear passenger door.

Colbert’s knees were playing up, so he needed a hand out of the car. As soon as he stood up straight, he waved his driver away.

“Will you be all right, sir?”

“I’ll be fine, Bill. Pick me up in the morning at eight.”

He watched the limo drive away. The former Secretary of State worked the corridors of State three days a week in person, but the rest of the time he worked on the phone, and he could do that from his house on the Chesapeake. He felt it gave him the separation he needed to focus on the task in hand. And it also helped him stay off his feet. But when he was in town, he stayed here, with family.

He worked his way up the half dozen steps to the front door of the townhouse. Luckily, he had an iron handrail to hold on to. His son had installed it.

He let himself in with his own key. Mozart drifted out from the open door of the study. Bryce recognized the Clarinet Concerto, one of his own personal favorites. He paused to savor the music. He and his son disagreed on a number of issues, but never on Mozart.

He walked through into the study. His son was sitting in an antique leather armchair with a glass of bourbon on the table in front of him, a hand carved chess set was already laid out. Monday night was their chess night.

“Sorry I'm late, the traffic was horrendous just getting across town.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes, I had dinner with senator Jack Cooper. He needs my support on that bill he is pushing through the house.”

“In return for?”

Bryce Colbert smiled, it lit up his handsome face. He still looked good even though he was approaching eighty and his legs were showing their age. “Well that's the deal isn't it. That's the beltway tango, our little dance to keep the wheels of government turning.”

“And you're a master at it.”

“I’ve been doing it a long time.”

“Do you want to play?”

“Why not.” He took off his coat and picked up the bourbon decanter. “Top up?”

Brad shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Bryce Colbert poured himself a generous measure. “Where's Jennifer this evening?”

“She's out at one of her fund raisers.”

“That’s our Jennifer. Saving the world.”

“She cares, Dad.”

Bryce Colbert nodded and eased himself down into the chair opposite. He sipped his bourbon and smiled at his son. He appreciated that he didn’t run around to help him. Just did the little things, like the handrail on the steps to help him along.

“Let’s play.”

Brad opened with the Ruy Lopez, the classic Spanish defense. After the first few opening moves, Bryce responded with his pawn to A6, the Morphy Defense. Brad declined the exchanges on offer and retreated with his bishop. His father waited for the game to unfold a little before he spoke, which was the real purpose of the game.

“I spoke to the President today.”

“I noticed you travelled back from the funeral with him. You two are getting close. I hope he’s well.”

“He's just fine. We talked about you. He called me to confirm what we had discussed on the day of the funeral.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Tomorrow he's going to ask you over to the White House.”

Bryce threatened his son’s Queen with his Knight. “He wants you for Vice President.”

“Wow. Isn’t that a little early.”

“It’s what we’ve been working towards.”

“Why me? There are lots of very capable people with a lot more experience than me, who would love to take that job.”

“He needs you. His approval ratings are in the toilet. His allies are distancing themselves, and quite frankly, he needs a new strategy. He has the election coming up next year, and he’s looking at becoming a one term President. And to some, that’s worse than never having been President at all. We all know that Jake’s ambition always outstripped his capability, but up to now he always had George by his side, to muster the troops, to steady the ship, and guide him forward. Now George has gone and the sharks are circling. They sense blood in the water and they are moving in for the kill. There’s even talk that the election is already lost and we need a new man to fight it.”

“They would never pick me for that.”

“Which is why he needs you now. And to be honest, you need him. He is going to give you the leg up you need. Actually, the truth is, he needs you and Jennifer. The war hero and the smartest, most beautiful woman in America. The golden couple, America’s sweethearts.”

“Please spare me the trashy media bullshit.”

“I’m serious. That’s where public opinion is. And he wants some of that. He wants it desperately.”

“Do you think I'm ready?”

“Is anybody ever really ready when opportunity comes along? Anyway, it really doesn't matter what I think. He thinks you're ready, and that's what matters.”

Brad looked at his father. “I’m not sure. I was hoping to have more time.”

“That’s what we all hope for, but we rarely get it. You take your chances when they come. You have to learn on the job. If you get him through this, get him his second term. You will have four years to be ready for the big one. Well, maybe less if he steps aside. Who knows what will happen. But you have to be ready to step up.”

“Easy to say.”

“We need to give you a focus, something that will get you noticed.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Absolutely, you're going to become an expert on foreign policy.”

“Don't you think I should be focusing on more domestic issues?”

“We have a team of very capable people focusing on that. When the time is right, they'll brief you on what you need to know. No, in the world of foreign policy things are very unclear. The Chinese are flexing their muscles and the Russians are stirring the pot. The old cold war is about to become the hot war. We need someone to stand up for us. You're going to travel the world, meet the world's leaders, understand the issues and the strategy that America needs to survive in the new world. You are going to learn to stand up to our enemies.”

“Don't you think the Secretary of State might have something to say about that?”

“Don't worry about Walter, he's going to become your new best friend.”

“Really.”

“You are going to become his ally in the oval office. When he wants something, you're going to ensure he gets it.”

“And when he has ambitions to sit at the resolute desk?”

“Too much dirty laundry. He wouldn’t last the preliminaries.”

“It sounds like you've got it all worked out.”

“I have a plan, but it's up to you to make it work.”

“I’ll do my best. But I’d welcome any suggestions?”

Bryce Colbert sipped on his bourbon and studied the board.

“You have to change your game.”

“Sorry?”

“You like to open with the Spanish.”

“Bobby Fisher used to like it.”

Bryce smiled.

“The problem with any move made regularly it makes you predictable. And predictability is a weakness. One that your enemies will take advantage of. At home and abroad.”

Bryce moved his Rook. “I believe that’s checkmate.”

“Shit.” Brad sank his bourbon. “So what do you suggest?”

Bryce picked up his glass and looked at his son over the top of it.

“You need to find some new moves.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Her name was Maria Gonzales, top socialite, well connected, and married to Jose Gonzales, a powerful political lobbyist and man in the know. A man who wanted his wife to be beautiful and was willing to pay to ensure she stayed that way. The rumor was, she kept the beltway Nip and Tuck parlors in business. She stepped up to the microphones clustered together at the front of the stage of the main conference room at the Four Seasons Hotel, and beamed an expensive smile that regularly flashed her perfect white teeth from the front page of a host of glossy magazines and online publications.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our special guest tonight was recently described by Time Magazine as the smartest woman in America. I personally have known her since school days and I can tell you that’s absolutely true. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our special guest, Jennifer Colbert.”

Jennifer Colbert stepped onto the stage to a thunderous applause. A beautiful woman, her perfect blonde hair cut short, blue eyes sparkling in front of an ice sharp brain. It was true that Time had described her as the smartest woman in America. It was no idle, headline grabbing brag. After she graduated from Wellesley College, she went on to graduate Summa Cum Laude from Yale. She had spent time as a Congressional Legal Counsel giving legal advice to members, and was now a highly successful contract and business lawyer. Though she gave as much as thirty percent of her time Pro Bono. She was also married to Senator Brad Colbert, a man, so the media told us, destined for great things. It was no coincidence that the more commercial publications described them as the Golden Couple, America’s Sweethearts. A term that Jennifer hated.

Her smile lit up her face as she stepped up to the microphones and waited for the applause to die down. She beamed a million dollar smile. “What do they say, don’t believe everything you read in the newspapers. Still, we are here tonight for a serious reason, and I would like to thank my friend Maria Gonzales, head of this extremely important organization, dedicated to helping children in need, here in this country and around the world. We are here today to highlight the plight of a special group of children. These are handicapped Russian orphan children, who have been denied their right to come to American and be adopted by American parents. Parents who could give them all the love and support they need, and give them a life they deserve.”

Jennifer paused to let the first impact settle.

“I call upon the Russian President to stop using these children as political pawns, to stand up and be a man, be a statesman. Allow these children to come to America, give them their right to a decent life. You do yourself nothing but dishonor by denying them. Meanwhile, I call on all of you out there today, to boycott all Russian products, and I urge you to contact your friends and social media contacts to do the same. I recognize many faces in the audience tonight. I know you have political contacts? I urge you to use those contacts to put pressure on the Russian administration, on President Putin. Let’s make this hurt. Let us save these children who so desperately need us to stand up for their rights.”

The audience burst into applause.

“Thank you and I wish you all a very good evening.”

Jennifer left the stage to even bigger applause and cheers.

Maria Gonzales handed her a chilled glass of Chablis, which she knew was Jennifer’s favorite. The inner circle was surrounded by bodyguards to keep out the throng on Maria’s order. Only attendees waving checks or credit cards were allowed in.

“I think that had the desired effect.”

Jennifer sipped at her wine. “Glad to help.”

Maria considered her guest of honor, a look of amusement playing in her eyes.

“So, is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“The rumors.”

“What rumor is that? There are so many I lose track.” Jennifer was passionate about the cause but hated the circus.

“That the President is about to announce your husband as the next Vice President.”

Jennifer shook her head gently and looked Maria directly in the eye. “You know what they say about rumors? They’re nothing more than gossip.”

Maria smiled over her glass of Dom Perignon. “They also say there is no smoke without fire.”

“I’m sure the President will make whatever choices he needs to make. But I know nothing of anything involving Brad.”

“Would he make a good Vice President?”

“My husband is an extraordinary man. He is dedicated to serving his country in whatever way he is needed.”

“Is that a yes?”

Jennifer took a sip of her wine.

“I think you would need to ask the President that question.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

There was a gap between the door and the doorjamb. The damp had seeped into the wood and expanded, separating the hinge a little from its mount, leaving a small gap that she could see through into the cabin beyond. The one they called Ivan, the one who had been waiting for her when she arrived here, was there. He was running on the treadmill, which he seemed to do constantly, when he was not lifting weights or doing endless pushups. He liked to make his calls from there, with the phone on speaker, while he pounded through the miles.

Nikki had been on the boat for three days. She was clear about that. She had scratched a mark low down on the wood paneled wall for each day, using the fork they gave her to eat her food. They took it away each time with her empty plate, but not before she had made the mark, just the way she had seen them do it in the movies.

There was something familiar about the boat, in a strange way, comforting. The hint of the diesel fuel mixed in with the brine of the ocean. The sway of the hull under her feet.

Nikki knew about boats. She had spent her life on and around them. She had fished with Andreas and her Dad, whenever she got the chance, and Andreas’ son had a sailing scoop he ran for charters out around the islands. She and Elli had often crewed on board for trips in the summer holidays. But this was a different kind of boat. This was a luxury yacht. She had seen plenty of them around the Greek islands. Elli would often talk about her dream. A handsome man who owned such a boat, and how some day he would come and marry her and take her away. She could see Elli’s smiling face. Where was she now? She prayed she was safe.

The memory was vague in her head. She remembered it in snatches. She had left her friend’s house on her bike and cycled up the hill. A car was stopped in the middle of the road with its hood up. A man was standing there looking into the engine. She had turned left down the alley to avoid it, but another man had stepped out in front of her. He had grabbed the handlebars and pulled her from the bike. She had tried to scream, but he had slapped his hand over her mouth. She could still smell him, taste him.

She had struggled. She half remembered a sharp prick in her neck. The next thing she knew, she was in a car. They were driving. She was on the back seat. There were two men in the front. The one who had pulled her from her bike was in the front passenger seat. He had looked back at her.

‘Go back to sleep.’ He had said. She could still hear his words echoing deep inside her head, with his thick accent. Like when her Grandfather spoke English.

She had felt the phone in her pocket. She had pulled it out and switched it on, glancing up at the man in case he looked back at her. She tried to look at the screen, but it was swimming in and out of focus. She had struggled to write a message, but her head was spinning. It was as if she was slipping towards a dark ravine. The man had said something. She knew she had the phone in her hand. She pushed it under the seat in front of her before she slipped forward into the darkness.

When she awoke, she was lying on a bed. She was on a boat. She could feel it swaying beneath her. When they docked, it was already dark. She remembered a car ride, then they turned through a gate. A small private plane was waiting for them. They had flown for what had to be three or four hours before they landed, then there was another plane. This time, it was a private jet. She had seen them at the small airport back on Narkos.

They had flown for a long time. She had slept. She wasn’t sure for how long. When she had awoken the plane was descending. She could see an ocean below them as she looked out of the window. Then the man had appeared, the one called Ivan with his nasty smile. He had something in his hand. He reached for her. She didn’t feel the prick, or at least she couldn’t remember it.

She did remember a house. They had stayed there overnight and the next day they had taken her for a drive. When the car stopped, the one called Ivan showed her a large knife. He had said if she caused any trouble, or attempted to call out to anyone, he would slit her throat. She did not doubt him.

They had taken her for a walk in an extensive park. There were monuments and a large man-made pool. Lots of people were there, but they took no notice of her. They had stopped on the steps of a large stone building. She recognized the carved monument inside. It was the Lincoln Memorial. They had studied it in a class project on American history. That was the first time she had realized just where she was - America.

One of the men had taken their photograph. Ivan had held up a newspaper and told her to look into the camera. Afterwards, they had not gone back to the house, instead they had brought her out here onto this boat.

There were three others who came and went. She had heard them talking. They spoke Russian. They didn’t expect her to understand, but she had spoken Russian with her mother whenever they were alone together, and with her Grandpa, every week when she called him.

She didn’t like Ivan, didn’t like the way he looked at her. He wore what looked like a gold razor blade dangling from an ear ring, which made him appear even more intimidating. But she soon realized he was not the one in charge. There was someone else. They called him hachal’nik, the boss, but she had heard Ivan on the phone to him. He called him Mister Polyakov. Maybe that was a good thing.

They talked about someone else, they never spoke his name, only referred to this person as him. They didn’t use his name, but she knew who they were talking about - Her father.

Daddy was here, and he was looking for her.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Walker had the pancakes at the little place on the corner. Nikki would have wagged her finger at the amount of syrup he dribbled over them, but this morning he needed the sugar. He couldn’t help thinking about her as he dug in with his fork.

Even with his ability to sleep through anything, his night had still been a tumble of faces out of his past. Everyone talking at him, but no coherent words were coming through.

He had laid out the events in his head, but he had done that many times before. He was sure there was nothing more to see. Dimitri had said he needed to speak to Eleanor if he wanted to find out more about the Sterlings, about January. But who was she? He had never heard of her.

A thought struck him. Dimitri had said he had met a woman when he came to Washington, running Viktor’s errand, delivering cash to January’s handler. Was she Eleanor?

Maybe he was stretching it, but even if it was true, how would he find her? It had been thirty years. Was she even still alive? But Dimitri would have known that. What had he said?

‘You would need to talk to Eleanor. Of course, there is no guarantee that she would want to talk to you.’

He wouldn’t have said that if Eleanor was dead. And Dimitri would have known.

So who else would know?

The waitress came by and topped up his coffee.

“How are your pancakes?”

“Wonderful, thank you.”

The waitress smiled and moved on.

Walker sipped his coffee and pondered his last question.

Who else would know about Eleanor?

He hadn’t thought about Ed Cooper in a long time. Not a lot since that day when everything had gone to hell. Ed had led the FBI team and, from what he knew, the shit on his side had landed firmly on him. But one thing he had heard on the grapevine back then. Ed Cooper had become obsessed by the case of the Sterlings. If anyone knew about Eleanor, it would be him.

He wasn’t sure if Ed would want to talk to him, even if he found him. But he tried anyway. He stabbed the last piece of pancake with his fork, wiped it around the plate in the remains of the syrup, and shoved it in his mouth. The pancakes really did taste good.

He pushed aside his plate and pulled the laptop out of his backpack, then set it on the table in front of him. The diner had Wi-Fi. The password was written on the wall. He booted up the laptop and connected to the network.

There were twenty-eight E. Coopers in the online white pages for the Washington, D.C. area. He called every one of them and got nothing. Which wasn’t surprising. Ed Cooper had always struck him as a man who knew how to stay off the radar if he wanted to.

But Walker knew someone else who he was pretty sure could track him down. He hadn’t thought about him in a long time, too. But he had seen him recently, standing next to the Vice President’s daughter at the VP’s funeral. It seemed this thing, whatever it was, was about tearing open old wounds.

The snow still lay on the ground, but the sky was bright blue, and the sunshine gave everything a hazy fairy tale look. A pity that real life wasn’t like that. The park was busy with adults and kids taking advantage of the sunshine.

Walker followed the path alongside the Reflecting Pool. A man sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, tossing out bread to the birds from a brown paper bag.

“Trying to recruit them?” Walker sat down beside him. The man had a little less hair since the last time he had seen him, maybe a few more lines around the face, but the rest was about the same.

“Might be better than most of the dumb shits I’m working with these days.”

The set up for the meeting had been straight out of the spy’s playbook. Walker had called a number he had from a long time back. He wasn’t sure if it would work anymore, but he called it and left the number of his current burner. An hour later, he had a place and a time.

His name was Lloyd Donovan, but everyone called him Don. He was third generation Irish American. His grandfather and his father were both cops, but Donovan had needed to do something more. Walker remembered him as a good boss, but more than that, a mentor and a friend. He had learned the ropes under Donovan’s guidance. His boss had kept him alive.

They had been in Moscow together for a while, including when he met the mysterious lady on the train. They had been in some tight spots, had looked after each other’s backs. The shit that happened towards the end had nothing to do with him, but he had paid the price, anyway.

“How you doing, Robert.” Donovan stood up. “Do you mind if we walk? My hemorrhoids don’t take kindly to sitting on cold stone.”

They set off back, following the path alongside the Reflecting Pool. “I have to say you gave me quite a turn when you called. Still, it’s good to see you. You look in better shape than me.”

Walker grinned. “I always did.”

“I thought you were enjoying the Greek islands? I got quite a shock when I got your message.”

“I was until a Russian sniper tried to put a bullet in my head.” He quickly gave him the details.

The shock on Donovan’s face, Walker was sure, was genuine.

“The Russians, are you sure?”

“I even know his name, Ivan Kuriakov. He’s freelance but I’m pretty certain he was working for a guy called Viktor Polyakov, former KGB General and now Russian Oligarch, though from what I hear he’s something of a wounded Oligarch these days.”

“Aren’t they the most dangerous kind?”

“Do you know him?”

“I’m in the CIA, Robert. I’m supposed to know these things. Even if I do sit one floor up from the basement.”

“How is Langley these days?”

“Same old place. The shit still flows downhill. But my career seems to have taken something of a boost these days, since Mister Putin decided to take a personal interest in our political affairs.”

Donovan stopped and gazed out across the water.

“It looks like you’ve been pissing off some pretty big fish. But if my memory serves me, Viktor Polyakov is in St. Petersburg, so what are you doing in D.C.?”

He looked across at Donovan. “They took my daughter.”

“Tanya?”

Walker struggled to shake the image that popped into his head. He had to take a deep breath and pause for a moment to hold on to the pancakes.

“Are you okay?”

Walker shook his head. “Sorry, I should have kept you up to date. Her name is Nikki. She’s thirteen years old.”

“Is her mother here with you?”

Walker looked out across the water. He wasn’t sure if he could take all these memories all at one time. “She passed away. Five years ago. It’s just me and Nikki now.”

Donovan stopped. “Hey Robert, I’m really sorry.”

“I intend to make Viktor Polyakov even sorrier. And I intend to get Nikki back, alive.”

“Robert, tell me what you need. But first, why are you here in D.C.?”

“That’s a long story. But ultimately I needed to speak to someone, an old Russian emigre.”

Donovan shook his head. “Tell me you had nothing to do with that shit that went down at the Lauinger Library.”

“I was standing next to Dimitri Petrovski when Ivan Kuriakov shot him.”

“And you’re still standing?”

“Now there’s the strange thing. I told you Ivan took a shot at me back on the island. But he missed on purpose. I’m sure it was a distraction so they could take Nikki and use her as leverage to bring me here. Ivan confirmed that by not shooting me, and attempting to stick a large hypo in me. I don’t know what was in it, but it wasn’t lethal.”

“How would you know that?”

“I stuck it in Ivan’s neck and he didn’t die. Maybe it was just a relaxant, or maybe a truth drug. I didn’t hang around to check it out. Dimitri’s body was on the floor, Ivan looked like a zombie, and people were screaming at the door.”

“Popular rumor is that Mister Putin was reaching out and cleaning house.”

“I hate to defend him, but this was Viktor Polyakov reaching out.”

“So you will have really pissed him off now.”

“In Dimitri’s final words. Viktor can go fuck himself.”

“Do you think that was wise considering he has your daughter?”

“He wants me for something. I’m hoping that while ever he doesn’t have his hands on me, he’ll keep Nikki alive.”

“I really hope you’re right about that.”

“I have to believe it.”

“So what can I do to help?”

“The police are probably looking for me.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”

“I did my best to avoid the security cameras, but you never know. I could use your help.”

“You turn up out of the blue. Wreak havoc across our fair capital.”

“I know, but I could do without Washington’s finest on the lookout for me. I need to focus on finding Nikki. Can you make it go away?”

“Do you think I have that kind of influence?”

“Probably not, but I bet you know a man who does.”

Donovan dug into the paper bag and cast out another crust. A single bird swooped in as the bread hit the water, and scooped it up, then flew away, lunch for the family dripping from its beak. Donovan watched it until it was out of sight.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks. Now I have a question.”

“Surprise me.”

“I want to know how Viktor Polyakov found me? As you said, I’ve been enjoying the Greek islands for the last twenty years. And no one was supposed to know I was there.” He looked Donovan directly in the eye. “Apart from my old friends at Langley.”

“Hey, hold on there.” Donovan held up the flat of his hand. “Whatever it was, it didn’t come from me. I would never do that. The details of your whereabouts are sealed, still are, as far as I know. As your last boss, I filed your location information and sealed it myself. Only the DCI has access to it and I’m sure he forgot your name as soon as he heard it. But security is a nightmare these days. WikiLeaks, Whistle Blowers, it’s like trying to keep water in a leaking bucket.”

“Well, however he did it, Viktor found out where I was.”

“Any theories why he’d want to do that? Why would he be interested in you?”

“I went to see Dimitri to ask what the link is between me and Viktor Polyakov.”

“And?”

“It turns out the link is not only to me, but to you too, and your ex-boss.”

“Now you’re beginning to intrigue me.”

“The link is January. That name might not mean anything. It’s a codename for an old deep cover Soviet team that Viktor ran personally. But I’m sure the names Matt and Helen Sterling would ring a bell.”

Donovan reached into the paper bag and cast a handful of bread out onto the water. “How could I ever forget? Any idea why?”

“That’s what I need to find out about. I need someone with inside knowledge of the case.”

“Don’t look at me. I don’t have access to that level of stuff these days.”

Walker wasn’t sure he believed his old boss. His office might be in the basement, but he hadn’t thrown away forty years of inside knowledge. But for now, he let it go.

“The CIA are not the only ones who keep case files. This was a joint operation with the FBI. Do you remember Ed Cooper? He was the FBI guy in charge of the Sterling case.”

“I remember Ed. Didn’t he blame you for ruining his career?” He held out his hand with a large crust in it. A bird swooped down and plucked it free. “Mind you, I seem to recall you ruining all our careers.”

“Do you want to go into that right now? How do I find him?”

Donovan shrugged. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Walker held out his hand. “It was good to see you, Don.”

Donovan took it. The handshake was genuine.

“By the way, I saw you on TV at the Vice President’s funeral. You were looking pretty cosy with the VP’s daughter.”

Donovan cracked a smile. “The simple law of averages says that something good must come into your life at some time. We met while I was second stringer in Bogota. My boss was a lush. He rarely turned up before noon, and then it was lunchtime. So I was running the show. She was at the US Embassy. We kind of ran into one another. We were escorting the Ambassador to the airport. He was targeted by a roadside IED, but they got their timing slightly wrong. They took out the car in front of the Ambassador’s, and we ran into the back of it. The Ambassador’s personal security got him clear, but I got Julia free. She had a minor cut on her head, but I insisted on getting her to the hospital. She insisted on buying me dinner. Things went from there.” He smiled down at the water. “I found out later her father was Senator George O’Connell. Of course he became—”

“Yeah, I get it. I would have thought he had enough clout to get her posted somewhere a little more glamorous than Bogota. Paris maybe?”

“You have obviously never met Julia. When she makes up her mind she wants something, she usually gets it. And she wanted the front line. Drugs were it back then, and the US was trying to broker a deal with the Columbian Government to bring down the cartels. Julia was the Ambassador’s executive assistant and pretty much guiding the ship. Rumors sprang up afterwards that she was the target. So she relented to her father’s wishes and was shipped back to the State Department.”

“And you?”

Donovan grinned. “Well, in typical Langley fashion, they were blaming me for the debacle.”

“And your boss?”

“He pulled in some favors and came up squeaky clean. So I did the same. I called Julia, she got her Dad to whisper in a few ears, and I found myself back in Langley. Unfortunately, the guy who had pulled the strings got promoted as a reward, and the guy who took over turned out to be a buddy of my old boss.”

“Hence the basement office.”

“You have to take the rough with the smooth.”

“Couldn’t you ask Julia to help?”

“What we have is too important to mess with. Another year and I’m out of here on a full pension. Julia and I have agreed we’re going off the grid. Maybe we’ll buy a boat and sail around the world. Who knows, maybe we’ll find a little island somewhere, where we decide to settle down.”

“I can recommend a Greek island in the Cyclades.”

“I might just take you up on that.”

“So call me when you have something.” Walker took a pen out of his pocket and scribbled a number on Donovan’s paper bag. “It’s a new burner phone, but I’ll be using it for the rest of the day.”

“No rush then.”

Walker smiled. “I mean it, Don. It was good to see you.”

He left Donovan feeding the birds and walked back along the waterside. A troubling thought tugged at the back of his mind. There were times when he hated this ability, especially like now.

He had meant what he had said about being pleased to see him. Donovan was a good friend, a good man, and an absolute pro. He was very good at his craft. He had to give him that. But Walker was a pro, too. It had been a while, but staying under the radar and staying alive had kept some of those skills still current.

Don had covered it well, but Walker had caught it in his eyes when he told him that Viktor had tracked him down. Just for a moment, it was only the slightest of tells. But some skills just never went away.

Somehow, this news was not a surprise to his old boss.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

After leaving Donovan, he walked. In the distance, across the reflecting pool, the White House, stood clear in the bright winter sunshine. Being back here tugged at a part of him he was in no mood to revisit.

Not that he had spent a lot of time here. His life in the CIA had always taken him away, away from his family. Joanna, had done her best to make it work, bringing up Tanya, mostly on her own. He had missed Tanya’s early years, those important years. In fact, when he thought about it, he had missed all her years.

After the divorce he had tried to watch her, at a distance, as she had grown older and gone to college. Then after that, as she had gradually built her own career. She was a hotshot journalist these days. He followed all her work on line. Some of the places she was reporting from were far too hot for his liking. But what could he do? Pop up out of the past and tell her to change her life.

He had read in her bio that she was searching for the truth, trying to protect the downtrodden, the victims, and to shine a spotlight on the oppressors in the world. Hadn’t that been him once, a very long time ago?

He desperately wanted a drink, but he was not sure that was a good idea. He headed down into the Metro at the Smithsonian and spent the next thirty minutes losing any tails that might be out there. Not that he didn’t trust his old boss, but old habits. . .

He still wanted a drink, but he settled for Starbucks. He ordered the coffee of the day, black, and took a stool by the window. He took out his burner phone and connected to the Wi-Fi, then checked the email drop. There was nothing from Vasili. He wasn’t surprised. He put the phone on the countertop and looked out of the window, trying to empty his mind, but the memories seemed to be racing towards him.

The burner phone buzzed on the countertop. It showed a new message. He pressed the icon. It showed an unknown caller, but he knew who it was from. It looked like Donovan hadn’t had to reach out very far. It was a phone number.

He wandered out of Starbucks and found an empty park bench, and sat down. He wasn’t sure how this would go. Ed Cooper had no reason to want to talk to him and a thousand reasons not to. It turned out he was wrong about that, by a factor of a thousand.

The phone seemed to ring forever before someone answered. He recognized the voice, even after all these years. It was terse and to the point.

“Who is this?”

“Ed, Ed Cooper?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Ed, this is Robert Walker, former CIA. I’m not sure if you remember me.”

The line went silent. Walker wondered if Cooper had hung up, but eventually he spoke.

“Oh sure, like I’d forget the guy who trashed my entire career, my whole life.”

“Ed, I need to talk to you.”

“Let me tell you something, Robert Walker, former CIA. On my list of one million things to do before I die, talking to you, didn’t make the list.”

“Ed, it’s important. Don’t you really want to know what happened?”

“I’ve spent thirty years trying to forget it.”

“Well, it’s back. Someone is reaching out and people are dying. They came looking for me, and if I’m right they are going to come looking for you.” Walker knew he was out on a limb here, but he needed Ed Cooper’s attention.

The line went dead again.

“You’ve got thirty seconds before I hang up.” Cooper finally spoke.

“How are things?”

“Twenty five.”

“No, I mean really. Have you had any strange things happening in your life.”

Ed seemed to be thinking about that one.

“Unless you can call someone trying to push me under a bus a strange thing.”

“This is Washington.”

“Somehow I got the feeling it was no random act.”

“I think we should have the rest of this conversation face to face.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

He guessed Ed Cooper’s curiosity had got the better of him. But Ed was no trusting soul. A series of instructions had led Walker to a burner phone at the bottom of a trash can, then to an obscure bar in Falls Church, Virginia. With a neon sign outside that announced, - The One That Got Away.

Walker parked the BMW out front and walked inside. He hadn’t seen him in thirty years, but he recognized Ed Cooper as soon as he saw him. He was sitting at the bar, scrolling through something on his smart tablet. He looked up as Walker stepped through the door, then got down from his bar stool and walked across to a booth in the corner.

Ed had added a few pounds around his gut, but Walker recalled the FBI agent had always been a big guy. He had lost most of his hair even back then, but his bald pate had taken on more of a polish and what little hair he had left was trimmed short and was gray.

Walker followed him over to the booth. Ed Cooper gave him a sour look.

“Forgive me if I don’t shake your hand. And I’m drinking bourbon, Wild Turkey.”

Walker said nothing. He walked up to the bar and ordered a double Wild Turkey and a beer for himself. He took the drinks over and set them on the table, then slid into the booth opposite Cooper.

“How are you doing?”

Ed Cooper picked up his glass and looked at Walker. “And you care?”

Walker shrugged.

Cooper took a generous gulp of his bourbon.

“What can I say. Until recently, I would have said, life was just moving along. You know, same shit, different day.”

“Until recently? You said someone tried to push you under a bus.”

“There was that. But I’m not here to do the talking. The reason you’re sitting there. The only reason.” He looked down into his glass. “What you said on the phone about someone reaching out. So talk to me.”

Walker gave him the story. He didn’t tell him everything. He kept it short, holding back on the personal things. He didn’t tell him about Nikki, only that someone had taken a shot at him. He also said nothing about Vasili and St. Petersburg. He brought him up to date on what had happened at the library and Dimitri.

“I saw that on the news.”

“You said that the only reason I’m sitting here is because of what I said on the phone. I said my part. So tell me, what’s happening in your life.”

Cooper waved at the bartender and pointed at his glass. He looked back at Walker.

“Someone has been following me, last couple of days. Nothing overt, but I can still spot a tail. Then yesterday, they upped the ante. Someone tried to push me under a bus.”

“Subtle. What happened?”

“I was here, in Falls Church. Don’t go far from here these days.” He paused while the waitress brought him another Wild Turkey and a beer for Walker. He waited until she walked away.

“I was standing at the corner on 29th. Someone pushed me in the back, into the path of a bus.”

“Wow, how come you’re still in one piece.”

“I kept on rolling. Luckily, the driver was sharp and stood on his brakes. Gave me just enough time to get clear. I may look like an overweight guy, the wrong side of sixty, but I try to stay in shape. And I know how to take care of myself.” He pulled back his jacket to reveal the butt of an automatic, stowed in a leather shoulder holster. “I haven’t forgotten how to use one of these.”

“Don’t you think that’s interesting.”

“Why is that?”

“Because someone’s taking an interest in both of us.”

“Well, I guess they missed us both.”

“So why now, after all this time?”

“I have no idea. But I did some digging. I still have a lot of contacts and resources. I have a friend still works at the bureau. She told me there was a shit storm a couple of weeks ago because a classified file had been accessed. It was a special file, a joint CIA, FBI, top classified file.”

“That’s rare.”

“As rocking horse shit. But whatever, they suspect it was copied, but whoever did it covered their tracks very well. Theory is, it was Russian hackers looking for dirt to fuck with President Tasker’s reelection campaign.”

“And how does that relate to us?”

“It was the file on the Sterlings’ case. I didn’t see any link at first. Then you turn up. Tell me that’s a coincidence.”

“Why is the Sterlings’ file top classified?”

“I think you know the answer to that. Because the man ultimately in charge of the operation on the CIA side is now the President of the United States. Of course, he would love to have destroyed it completely, but the FBI wouldn’t allow that. In fact, they would have been happy to shove it up his ass. In the end, they came to an arrangement. Tasker had it classified highest security level and had it placed with NSA.”

“So you’re telling someone hacked the NSA for this file.”

“Hacked, no. This was an inside job. Someone had access. From what my friend told me. The credentials were from a dead account.”

“Don’t they close those things down?”

“Mostly.”

“So someone, let’s say for now it’s the Russians, is out to trash Tasker’s presidential campaign, and this file has embarrassing stuff in it.”

“I say file, there are lots of files, lots of shit in there.”

“So what? It’s been done before. And what has it got to do with me?”

Cooper shrugged his generous shoulders. “Or me? The son of a bitch sure didn’t stand up for me when I was in the shit. I seemed to remember he tried his damnedest to put all the blame on me.”

“And I seemed to remember, my boss and I took our fair share.”

“Whatever.”

“Exactly. There has to be something more to it. Which is why I’m trying to go back to the beginning and see if I can turn up anything that might lead us back to now.”

“And how do I come in to that?”

“I figured no one knows more about the Sterlings’ case than you. And you’re perhaps the only person who has access to stuff from that case.”

“That would presuppose that I have my own copy of files on that case.”

“Ed, you always struck me as the sentimental type.”

“Sentimental, no. Someone who holds a grudge? Yeah, that’s me. So what do you want to know?”

“Dimitri told me if I really want to know about January, I needed to talk to someone who knows everything about them.”

Cooper gave him a quizzical look.

“January was Moscow’s code name for the Sterlings. He said if I need to find out all about them, I should talk to Eleanor.” He looked directly at Cooper. “I have a theory that she was the Sterlings’ handler.”

Cooper's nose gave a twitch. Then a slight nod.

“Eleanor Birkhov. We always suspected she was the Sterlings’ controller, but we could never prove anything.”

“Is she still alive?”

“I have no idea.”

“Can you find out? You said you had a friend inside the bureau.”

“You know you can call in too many favors.”

“Do you want to find out what this is all about, or do you want to keep hiding away, waiting for them to finally catch up with you?”

“You do know I never did like you.”

“I don’t get it Ed, why is it my fault?”

Cooper looked into his glass. “They knew we were coming. Someone had tipped them off.”

“If that was the case, why didn’t they just disappear?”

“I don’t know that. Maybe they didn’t have enough time. Maybe something else was more important. But they did have enough time to prepare. You saw the place. It was scrubbed clean, not a thing to link to any espionage activities.”

“Yet they still committed suicide.”

“Have you ever wondered about that?”

“Often. But why is that my fault?”

“Because the leak was not on my end. I kept all the details to myself. All my people knew was we had persons of interest. It had to come from your end. You were the only people who knew who they were.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“So make the call. Let’s see what we can find out. I’ll order more drinks.”

Cooper gave him a look, as if he was making up his mind, then stood up and headed for the door. Walker waved at the waitress, then lingered over the beer she brought. He was beginning to wonder if Ed had run out on him when he came back through the door. He didn’t look happy.

“Did you get anything?”

“I asked her about Dimitri Petrovski. Thought I’d check up on your story. The police are looking for a man taken away in an ambulance which was found abandoned a few blocks from the scene.”

He didn’t say anything about Vasili’s man left inside.

“But the police and the FBI are looking for a man who left the scene. Fortunately, security cameras caught him. They were able to identify him as a former CIA operative, a Mister Robert Walker. My friend wanted to know if I’d seen him.”

Walker wondered if Don had been able to do anything about that. “What did you tell her?”

“I said no, but I asked her if I did, could I shoot him.”

Walker gave him a tight smile. “Did she find anything about Eleanor Birkhov?”

“I got the impression I might have outstayed my welcome.”

“Are you just trying to piss me off?”

Cooper shrugged. “There is that.” He took a slug of his Wild Turkey. “She is living in a nursing home in Virginia. I’ve texted you the name.”

Walker looked at his phone.

“Have you got the address?”

“Do you want me to wipe your ass?”

Walker stood up and glanced around. “I think maybe it’s time to leave.”

As they reached the door, Walker turned to look back at Cooper. “Look Ed, I’m sorry for what happened. But I was just a dumb patsy in the middle of it all.”

Cooper shrugged. “Weren’t we all?”

Walker held out his hand. The big man looked at it, then took it. It was a firm shake.

“I’ll see what details I can get and send them to you. Can I use that phone number?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna ditch it as soon as I hear from you.”

“Does that mean I won’t hear from you again?”

Walker smiled. “I’m not making any promises. There is one other thing. Could you get me a gun?”

“I would have thought a man like you would be carrying.”

“I figured carrying around D.C. might be a problem, but I think we’ve moved beyond that.”

“I may have a little something in the truck.”

They walked outside. Ed was driving a battered old flatbed truck with an elongated cab, with both front and back seats.

He reached in behind the driver’s seat and handed Walker a handgun.

“It’s an old timer of mine,” Cooper said. “But it’s still a beautiful weapon, looked after with loving care. You can rely on it.”

Walker examined it. Heckler and Koch, P9S. He hadn’t seen one in a long time.

“Take care of it. When this is all over, I’d like it back.”

“I will. I’m an old timer myself, thanks.” Walker stuffed it into his pants at the small of his back.

He glanced back at the bar. The One That Got Away was definitely a fisherman’s bar. He recalled the various trophy fish displayed in glass cases around the room, along with a range of cups and other trophies, and photographs, on the wall. He had caught one picture, close to the door, with a bunch of smiling fisherman. Ed’s unmistakable figure stood in the middle, holding up a substantial fish.

“Is this a favorite bar of yours, Ed?”

“It’s not something I publicize, but they know me in there.”

“Do you like fishing?”

“Sure, but we tend to talk about it more than do it these days.”

“Then take a holiday, first thing tomorrow. Do some fishing. Get as far away from here as possible and stay away until this all blows over.”

Cooper was shaking his head. “Aren’t you being just a little paranoid?”

“I’m serious, Ed. I don’t want to read about you in the papers. I’ve screwed up your life enough.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The light was fading, and the snow had begun falling again. Walker didn’t fancy the drive back into the city. He found a small motel and parked the car round the back, then grabbed a bite to eat at the diner across the road. He realized he was starving and ordered the steak and fries. He was just polishing the shine off the plate when his mobile phone beeped. It was a text message from Ed Cooper, with a number to call. Ed was a cautious man.

He called him right away. Ed said little, but he gave him an address for The Sunset Pines Retirement Home.

Maybe he was wiping his ass after all.

“Have you thought about that fishing trip?”

“I need a couple of days.”

“Well, don’t hang about.”

He hung up and called the home, but the lady on the reception told him visiting hours were over for the day, but that he could visit the next morning at eleven.

He drove out just after ten. The place was on the other side of Tyson’s corner. The roads were cleared, but the snow was piled up in dirty piles by the roadside and still lay heavy on the hillsides.

Sunset Pines was tucked away in a quiet corner of Fairfax county, set back well from the main road and surrounded by a thick pine wood. Walker had googled it from his hotel room. The bio told him it had once been a tobacco plantation. The land had been sold off years before, but the old colonial mansion remained. Modern extension wings had been added to each side, three floors high with a flat roof, running back towards the woods, and connected to the main house by glass covered walkways. The retirement home business looked in good shape.

He parked his car out front and climbed the front steps. The colonial facade had been preserved. Whitewashed wood panelling and tall white pillars. But a wheelchair ramp had been added which seem to take away from the illusion.

He showed a Russian Passport at the front desk. It was one of his stash. He spoke fluent Russian, so speaking English with a Russian accent was not so difficult.

“I would like to see my Aunt, Eleanor Birkhov.”

The woman at the front desk studied his passport. “She doesn’t get many visitors.”

“I am over here on a short business trip. My mother asked that I come and see her.”

The woman smiled. “A visitor might do her some good.”

“How is she?” Walker asked as they climbed a set of neatly carpeted steps.

“She has her good days and her not so good days.” They weaved their way through the building and stopped outside a polished oak door.

“Here we are,” the nurse said, and stepped inside.

Eleanor Birkhov sat in a wheelchair, wrapped in a thick tartan blanket, looking out of the window.

“Eleanor, you have a visitor.”

Eleanor didn’t respond, she just continued staring out on to the snow laden landscape. The nurse gave him a smiling shrug, then left them alone.

Walker stepped inside. Eleanor was rocking gently back and forth in the chair, clutching what looked like a knitting pattern book to her chest, and staring into the distance. The room was warm and cosy, a single bed, neatly made, a writing desk with a few personal things. A picture of a boy in some kind of military cadet’s uniform, a knitting bag lying beside it, two old fashioned wooden knitting needles protruding from the top.

Walker knelt beside her.

“I love this time of the year.” She suddenly spoke in Russian. “Look at the colors. They remind me of my grandmother’s house when I was a little girl.”

“Where would that be - Moscow?” Walker replied in the same language.

She looked across at him. He could still see the spark within. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Yekaterinburg,” she said. “It was such a beautiful place.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“Who did you say you were?” She suddenly said in English.

“I’m a friend of Viktor’s.” Walker did the same.

The woman looked at him and smiled a distant smile, as if remembering something. “Viktor, how is he?”

“Oh, he’s fine. He sends his best wishes.”

She smiled at that.

“Eleanor, I wanted to ask you about some other friends of yours, Matt and Helen Sterling. Do you remember them?”

The old lady gave him the distant smile again. “Oh yes, I remember them. How are they?”

Walker turned the wheelchair around to face him, and pulled up the chair from the desk, then sat down. “They’re dead Eleanor. But I think you know that. They’ve been dead for thirty years, and I suspect there’s nothing wrong with your memory from thirty years ago.”

The smile this time was genuine. “There comes a time in your life when memories are all you have.”

“Tell me about those memories, Eleanor.”

“You are not a friend of Viktor.”

“You’re right, and you’re not fooling anybody. Let’s talk about Matt and Helen Sterling, Viktor’s jewels - January. You were their handler, he put them in your care.”

Her eyes were looking at him, but she was not seeing him.

“Eleanor, it was thirty years ago. We can talk about it now. I was there at the end.”

Eleanor closed her eyes as if she was in pain.

“We were on different sides. But I could respect them. They were Soviet citizens, patriots, fighting in a foreign country for a system they believed in. Two very brave people, taking tremendous risks every day — and someone betrayed them, Eleanor.”

He said it without thinking, but it had been rolling around in his mind ever since Ed Cooper had said it to him. It was something he had wondered about, way back at the beginning, but he hadn’t thought about it in a very long time. Now, with clarity of hindsight, he was sure Ed was right.

Someone had given them up for a reason. The lady on the train had been there to play him. And he had been suckered right in.

He moved his face in closer to her.

“Look at me Eleanor.”

She opened her eyes, but still didn’t want to look at him.

“Someone on your side gave them up — to me. Someone betrayed them. They didn’t deserve that.”

Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes. “I think you should go now.” She wheeled the chair over to the wall by the bed and pressed a button.

Walker knew his time was up. He took the knitting pattern book from her lap and picked up a pen from the desk. “Here’s my number. If you feel like talking, give me a call.” He handed her the book. “Remember what I said, Eleanor. They deserved better than that.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The car was a Mercedes Malbec. It left the main highway running into the city and nosed its way through the dockside, running by the water’s edge, and stopped at an old warehouse with a view across the river. The driver got out and opened the rear door. Viktor Polyakov emerged, a Siberian fox fur coat around his shoulders and a similar fur hat on his head. He stepped on to the waterfront, letting his gaze roam across the white expanse of the frozen River Neva. It seemed to shimmer in the midday sunshine.

He had acquired this whole stretch of St. Petersburg waterfront, and the adjoining warehouses for a song. The area was run down and largely abandoned, and the man who had owned it had found himself deep in debt and suddenly cash poor. A series of events that Viktor had manipulated with his eye on the grand prize.

It was part of a massive inner city development, a chic new neighborhood, with upmarket accommodation, restaurants, bars and clubs that would attract the growing wealthy in the city. He had made a number of men rich to acquire the permits he needed to make it happen. But now all the required building licenses and permissions had been made available, and he had put together a small group of investors.

Of course, his own name didn’t appear on any permits or even on any list of directors of the acquiring consortium. But he had control just the same. The world was about to change, and he intended to be ready.

He turned away from the river and disappeared into the warehouse. Inside, he made his way across a large room stacked with boxes and machinery to an elevator set into the rear wall. Iron gates ran from roof to floor and met in the middle. He pulled them apart and stepped inside. He closed the gates behind him and hit the button for the top floor. The elevator jerked into motion and ascended slowly. It clanked to a halt at the top and Viktor opened the doors and stepped out.

The interior was under development. It was to be a luxurious penthouse. There was no sign of the workforce, but the man he was meeting stood over by the window, looking out. Viktor walked over and stood by his side, catching the view across the Neva and down into the old city.

“Nice view from here. Expensive.”

The man looked at him and smiled.

“Yes, Papa, an excellent view. Tatiana is looking forward to moving in.”

“I am sure you both will be happy here.”

“It is very generous of you, even for a wedding present.”

“Take it all in, because this is just the beginning.”

Viktor embraced his son.

“Alexi, I have missed you. Unfortunately, it is necessary. But not to worry, it will soon be over. I have started the wheels rolling now and nothing is going to stop it.”

“I have to believe you, Papa. It just seems so ambitious. So far from reality.”

“Alexi, I decide what is reality. It is ambitious, but it needs to be. We are saving Mother Russia. I have been planning it for over thirty years. What do you expect?”

“But am I ready?”

“You are ready, my son. You just need to follow the plan as it unfolds.”

As far as the world was concerned, he and his son were estranged, torn apart by the man Viktor hated more than anyone else in the world. And for their plan to work, his son had to get as close as possible to that man. So close that when the time came, he would be ready to step into his place.

They talked briefly. Viktor went over the key points again, emphasizing what had to happen.

“I have to leave now. Just remember what you have to do.”

They hugged again, then Viktor left his son standing by the window and made his way back to the car. He told his driver to take him back to the Kempinski. As the limo pulled away, his phone beeped with a new message.

He looked at the screen. It was a message he didn’t want to receive, and an image from a security camera he didn’t want to see.

Viktor pressed the button beside him and the smoke glass divider slid up into place. He looked at his watch. It was seven hours difference, so it was still early there. But according to the nurse, he paid to keep an eye on her, she slept very little. He pulled up the number on his special phone and made a call. The number rang for some time before a voice answered in English. Vivaldi played in the background, while someone checked that she was awake. She was.

“Hello.”

Her voice sounded weak and distant.

“Eleanor, it is Viktor.” He spoke in Russian.

There was a pause before she spoke.

“Viktor, you never come to see me anymore.”

“I am sorry. Where does the time go? I seem to have no time at all these days. So much is going on. Things are constantly changing. You would never recognize the old place.”

“I still would have liked to see it again. Just one more time. I seem to remember you promised me.”

“I am sorry that never happened. But things are different here now. You did not deserve to see what this place has become. I know you sacrificed so much.”

“So why a call now in the middle of your busy schedule?” Her voice sounded stronger.

“I heard you had a visitor.”

“My dear Viktor, so far away and yet still with an ear to every door.”

“We made each other a promise. We still have to keep it. We still have to keep our secrets safe.”

“He told me someone had betrayed them.”

“No, no. I know this man. He is only causing trouble. They were discovered. Everything was falling apart. It was as if the entire world fell apart. I could do nothing about it. I had to react. You were there. You saw it all. Everything I did was for them. For what we had planned.”

“I seem to remember it was your plan, Viktor. But I had others to take care of, and at the time I had no other choice.”

“Which is what Pyotr and Irina wanted. And you did that well. But now the time is coming close. We have waited for so long for this, we cannot let down our guard now.”

The line went silent. When she spoke, her voice sounded weak again.

“Was it you Viktor?”

“Eleanor, what are you saying?”

“I thought about it for a long time, back at the beginning, but in the end I let it go. Today only jogged my memory. Maybe I am getting too old. My memory is not what it was, but I seemed to remember at the time, everything moving so fast, as if we had no choice. But I cannot help thinking, was that part of the plan?”

“We had no choice. They were blown, everything was coming apart. If we wanted to save anything, we had to act.”

The line went silent. When she eventually spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Of course Viktor. I remember now. Do not worry. Your little secret is safe with me.”

“Eleanor?”

“I am tired now.”

He heard a clunk, as if she had dropped the phone. He said his goodbyes, though he suspected she was no longer listening, and hung up.

He closed his eyes and pictured Eleanor. She was much younger in his memories. She had been so vital to all of this. He wasn’t sure at the start what the end point would be, there were so many variables so many things that could change, but first he had had to plant the seed, and it needed to be planted in the right place — and Eleanor had been the gardener, providing nourishment and shelter, and sunshine. They had come a long way together, but she knew more than anyone about sacrificing for the greater good.

He pressed the button for the internal intercom with the driver. “Tell Yuri to get the jet ready. We are going to Washington D.C.”

He called another number using the special phone. The call followed its normal devious route, then rang a few times before it was answered. He could hear the low whine of the running machine and the pounding of feet.

“Ivan, is there a reason you are constantly running on that infernal machine, and not out looking for our man?”

“I have all the boys out there searching, Mister Polyakov. As soon as I have something, I will let you know.”

“Well, it is time for some real work. I have a task for you, and I need you to be discrete.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The Lincoln town car came to a halt outside the main entrance of the WNC TV studios. News teams and general paparazzi crowded around the studios’ double doors, hoping to catch a snap or a snatched quote from an emerging celebrity. In this case, it appeared they had received a tip off. A few moved towards the car as it stopped, trying to see in through the smoked in windows. The driver got out and opened the rear passenger door as Jennifer Colbert stepped out from the studio entrance and made a beeline for the open door. Reporters called out her name and cameras flashed as she made her way through the crowd, keeping up the smile but saying nothing as she slipped into the back seat. The driver closed the door behind her.

She looked across at her father-in-law. “Nice of you to pick me up, Bryce.”

Bryce Colbert smiled. “My pleasure. How did the interview go?”

Jennifer shook her head. “They taped it. They sprung that on me at the last moment. It gives them the freedom to cut it any way they want. It was supposed to be about the Russians’ position on their ban on the adoption of disabled children by US citizens, but most of the questions were about Brad and the President. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I did my best to avoid any direct answers, but by the time they have finished cutting it, who knows what I’ll be saying. They’re putting it out tonight. I guess we’ll have to see then.”

The former Secretary of State indicated towards the milling crowd pushing up against the windows as the car pulled away.

“What is it they say about publicity.”

“You would know about that. Still, I appreciate the ride. Brad said he wanted to get out to the house early. He had some things he wanted to work on before the Bird Warden’s dinner this evening, and I had this damned interview.”

The house was her father-in-law’s, out on the Chesapeake. They had an agreement. Bryce would stay with them when he was in town, and they would go out to the house on the bay when they wanted to escape. It was a haven to get away from the crowd and the intrusion in D.C.

Tonight was the Bird Warden’s dinner. Jennifer, her husband and her father-in-law were all big supporters of the wildlife trust which funded the bird sanctuary that encompassed the house on the coast and a large area on either side of the property. Brad and Bryce were on the board, and Jennifer was the patron and social face of the trust. The Bird Wardens’ dinner was a way of saying thank you to a lot of people, many who gave up their free time and much effort for no recompense, just to ensure the sanctuary remained safe and the birds flourished. Tonight was a dinner held at the house, with some awards, and at the end of the evening a large check, mostly that Jennifer had drummed up from sponsors, to ensure the sanctuary continued.

Bryce opened the in-built mini-bar and pulled out an opened bottle of chilled white wine. “I thought you could use a drink.” He poured a glass and handed it to her. “Try this, Chablis, Grand Cru. I think you’ll like it. My friend is the US Ambassador in Paris. He sent me a case for my birthday.”

“But that was six months ago. Wine in your house rarely lasts that long.”

“I was waiting for a special occasion.”

Jennifer took a sip.

“Very nice. So what is the occasion? And why do I get the impression this is not coming for free, that you had this all nicely planned?”

The screen between them and the driver was up, but Bryce Colbert leaned in towards her, anyway. He returned the bottle and held up both hands. “Mea culpa. But I’m glad we got this chance to talk. Have you had a chance to talk to him about it?”

Jennifer didn’t ask what ‘it’ was. She didn’t have to. “Of course.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“I’m not sure how I feel matters. I know that Brad will succeed at whatever he sets his mind to do. I have no doubts that he will make a great Vice President.”

“We both agree on that. This is a little sooner than we had planned, but you have to take the opportunities as they arise.”

“I think you mean, you had planned?”

Bryce shrugged. “Every leader needs a strategist. You know I’ve always guided him. But I’ve always been clear that it had to be what Brad wanted.”

“I’m not sure he ever had a choice.”

“Jennifer, how long have you known me. You know, I have always put Brad first. But this is about now, and the opportunity that lies in front of him at this moment. This is more than stepping up to be VP. Brad has to be prepared to go beyond that. He has to be ready for the top job. With the current mood in the party, and the President’s approval rating in the toilet, there’s no guarantee he’ll get the nomination next year when the primaries come around. Brad needs to be ready to step up, if that’s the case. But if he can help the President raise his profile, then four years after that, Brad needs to be seen as the perfect man for the job.”

Jennifer gave a slight shake of her head. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so. But it’s going to take more than him. He will need you there, right beside him, to make this work. It will need the two of you. The dream couple.”

“Bryce please, I know the media loves that, but we have to be careful that people stop taking us seriously. Especially taking Brad seriously.”

“I am serious and don’t underestimate the power of social media. We both know it can make or break him. I have no doubts about Brad’s abilities. But he’s going to need help if he’s going to succeed. He is going to face some difficult problems and some tough decisions. He must not be distracted. He has to stay focused. That’s when you need to be there for him. To keep him on track, to show him the way. Do you think you can do that?”

“Maybe you’re overestimating my abilities.”

Bryce Colbert leaned back in the sumptuous leather seat and smiled. “Never. I know what you are capable of. Listen to me. The President wants this, he really wants Brad beside him. He is relying on you to make him a success.”

Jennifer sipped at her wine. “Who’s success, Brad’s or the President’s?”

“In the end, does it matter. It comes down to the same thing. I’m depending on you to be strong for him. So is the President. He needs you, he needs your strength, your vision. Jennifer, this request, is coming directly from him. As far as he is concerned, you are part of the deal.”

“Are you saying this is a deal breaker?”

“He just needs to know he can count on you.”

Jennifer gazed out of the window as they crossed over the Potomac. “Don’t worry, Bryce. The important thing is that Brad can count on me.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Walker sat at the bar across the road from the small motel he had found just outside Falls Church. From here, it was a short run into the city, but for now, it seemed like a good idea to stay out of town. He stuck with beer, because he knew if he started on the bourbon, in his current mood he might not stop.

He had to stay sharp, to focus on the problem. But no matter how hard he tried, thoughts of Nikki came rushing in like a flash flood, threatening to overwhelm him. If he couldn’t rise above it, he knew it would suck him down, and if that happened, Nikki would be lost. Just the thought of it had him sucking for breath.

The bartender gave him a concerned look. “You okay, buddy.”

Walker nodded. “Yeah, bad day.”

He looked down at his beer and decided maybe that was enough. He had to concentrate.

He had considered giving in to them. Going along with whatever they wanted. It would be easy enough for Vasili to pass a message on to Viktor. But his gut, and all the experience he had in his previous life, told him that was just an illusion. Once they had him, for whatever reason, they would not let either of them live. Once they had him, his chances of taking control diminished. He knew he was not dealing with amateurs. His own life meant nothing in this. Nikki was all that mattered.

He had to stay ahead of them. He had to find an edge that he could either bargain with or would get him in close. He knew if he could do that, if he just had that edge. . .

But what was that? And where the hell was Vasili when he needed him.

Visiting Eleanor had been worth a shot. She hadn’t given him anything, but maybe he had given her something to think about. He wondered if at any time in the last thirty years, she had considered that they may have been betrayed.

The lady on the train had never appeared again. He had searched for her through all the known personnel. It was the days before big data and facial recognition, so he had sat with a stack of photo albums, scanning through well over a thousand photographs before he finally found her. She worked in Moscow, in the Bureau of Information. He had put out the word to their contacts, the eyes and ears on the street, searching for her, but he had got nothing. There was no sign of her. He had wanted to go looking for her, but he was already back in the States, permanently reassigned. And beside no one was interested in a dead case.

Maybe she had changed her mind, lost her nerve, or she had been picked up. That’s what he had thought back then. Now he was sure that was not the case. His gut told him she had been put on that train for a purpose. To give up the crown jewels. But why?

What was it that Dimitri had said back in the library? Before Ivan had snuffed him out, like swatting a fly.

‘The General doesn’t waste his time on things that might have been. This is something about now.’

According to Dimitri, the link back to Viktor was January. But was that a coincidence? Was it really linked to anything? But they had killed Dimitri. Why? To shut him up? Someone had tried to kill Ed Cooper, but did that have anything to do with anything? And Jake Tasker, where did he fit into all this? If at all. Or was he just another coincidence?

He felt he had all these pieces, like parts of an intricate jigsaw puzzle. All he needed was the key piece, and a detailed picture would emerge. Or were they just random particles floating around in space?

His mobile phone buzzed in his pocket. An image of Vasili flashed into his mind. Bring me something, you sonovabitch. He pulled out his phone. He didn’t recognize the calling number, but then Vasili would not advertise himself. He answered with a simple ‘Yeah.’

“Is that Viktor’s friend?”

It wasn’t Vasili.

“Eleanor?”

“Come and see me. It is late, but do not worry, I sleep little these days. They will not let you in the front door, but I will leave the window open and a light on.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

It had started snowing again and the windscreen wipers were working flat out. He had hoped she would call, but he didn’t expect it so quick. Maybe he had really touched a nerve, maybe Eleanor really had thought about it, that someone had betrayed the Sterlings.

He parked up in the woods and made his way towards the house, A single light glowed above the main entrance. And something else.

There was a car parked opposite the entrance to the driveway. Walker moved up closer. The engine was running and someone was keeping warm inside because the windows were defrosted. He could make out the shape of two heads inside.

He backed off and climbed the wall fifty yards back down the road. He looked across at the main house. He imagined entering the place, climbing the stairs, following the passageway to Eleanor’s room, working out the layout in his mind. He walked around the side of the building and made his way to roughly where her room was. He looked up.

There was no light on.

Maybe she had forgotten, maybe she and fallen asleep and a nurse or an attendant had come along and switched it off. But somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling it was none of those.

He stood in the snow directly below where he was sure her room was. One floor above him. He looked up, straining his eyes in the low ambient light that seemed to glow from the white landscape. The snowfall was light now. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but above his head, he was certain a single window was open.

He headed to the end of the block, towards the trees. A place like this had to follow safety regulations. He found it as he worked his way around the back of the building. A metal stair, fire escape, crossed back and forth, running up to the roof.

He started up the stairs, trying to minimize the noise. Each step seemed to creak and cry out his presence. The fire escape extended all the way to the roof. At the top was a metal barred gate. It was locked with a cross bolt and large rusted padlock. Obviously, in an emergency, people were expected to be going down, not up. He didn’t have a handy rock to smash it open with, and nothing more subtle to pick it, though he was sure his lock picking skills were lost somewhere in his murky past.

He grabbed a hold of the bars, got a foot onto the crossbar and scrambled his way to the top of the gate. It protested louder than he would have liked as straddled it, then dropped to the flat roof. He could make out what looked to be a line of air conditioning units running along its length. At this time of year, they sat in silence.

He moved along the roof edge, looking down. A low security wall ran along it. He estimated the distance to Eleanor’s room. When he came to it, he could see the open window extending out clearly.

The wall running down to the ground was rendered concrete, with no hand grips or footholds, and there were no convenient drain pipes to shin down. He had a vision of something he had seen as he dropped onto the roof from the security gate. He headed back along the way he had come and found it tucked away beside the wall. A coiled length of hosepipe on a plastic drum. He grabbed it and headed back along the roof.

He unrolled the rubber pipe from the drum. It was stiff and frozen, but he managed to roll it out. It was about thirty feet long. He looked around for a potential tie on point. The nearest air condition unit had a three inch pipe disappearing into the roof. He threaded the end of the hosepipe around it. The rubber pipe was rigid from the cold. He had to work it back and forth before it was flexible enough for him to tie it off with a crude double knot. He tugged on the hose, leaning back with all his weight. The hosepipe groaned and gave slightly, stretching on the strain, then snagged tight.

Walker stepped across to the edge of the roof and dropped over the free end of the hosepipe. It reached about halfway down the outer wall, but easily past the open window. He gripped the pipe with his gloved hands and eased himself over the wall, his feet flat against the concrete and his body leaning out into space.

The hosepipe gave with a heart lurching lunge, then held. Walker hung there, waiting for the hose to finally give, and pitch him into the darkness below.

He edged his way down, shuffling with his feet and moving his hands one by one down the hosepipe. He reached the window. It was latched open. He held onto the pipe with one hand and reached in with the other and unlatched it, then pulled it all the way open.

He got a hold of the sill with his free hand, then let go of the pipe, and grabbed for the window, his thighs and his biceps screaming for mercy as his feet scrambled for purchase on the wall, and struggled inside.

He clambered onto the floor and crouched there in the darkness, his heart thumping in his chest, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The outside moonlight filtered a low luminance into the room. He found a reading light over by the desk and switched it on. It cast a low yellow glow into the room. Eleanor was lying in bed. She appeared to be asleep. He crept over and whispered.

“Eleanor.”

She didn’t stir. He didn’t want to touch her in case he frightened her and she called out. He leaned in closer. “Eleanor.”

He stood up and leaned over to the light above her bed. It was wall mounted, with a flexible neck. He switched it on and turned the light on Eleanor.

She lay back on the pillow, eyes open, staring into eternity. Perhaps it was a natural cause. She wasn’t young, but Walker knew that wasn’t the case. He leaned it closer.

It was called petechial hemorrhaging, tiny red and purple spots in and around her eyes. Subtle signs of asphyxiation. He looked across at the discarded pillow on the bed. The nurse at the front desk said she didn’t get many visitors. Maybe when she did, a phone call was made. Had Viktor reached out?

He looked down at Eleanor. She looked as if death had surprised her. Another dead end piece in this crazy puzzle.

He let his eyes sweep the room, taking in the room detail. His instincts told him something was missing. What was it?

It was like the game you played as a kid at parties. A tray full of items, then you closed your eyes and one item was removed and you had to guess which one. They played a much more sophisticated version when he was training in the agency, but it was essentially the same thing. You just had to let your mind see it all over again.

He let his eyes move across the room, replaying the images his subconscious had stored away earlier, allowing the pictures from his memory to unfold in his mind. The trick was not to try, to just let it unfold in its own way.

He came to the desk. Some instinct told him it was here. He closed his eyes, breathing like he was in a deep meditation, letting the images assemble. He opened them again, and it was there, like a great, gaping hole. The photograph of the boy in the military uniform. It was gone.

His eyes scanned the room again, this time with a different purpose.

Speak to me Eleanor, you were a spy goddam it. You have to have secrets.

Memories. Where would you keep them? Someone has already been here, they had checked the obvious places. But they probably didn’t have a lot of time either. Don’t look up, she couldn’t reach that high. Forget the drawers, too obvious. Behind the cupboard? His eyes rested on the wheelchair parked in the corner. The tartan blanket, neatly folded, laid on the seat. On the side was her knitting bag, the thick wooden knitting needles still protruding from it. He pulled out the battered knitting brochure he had written his number on. He grabbed the cover and let the pages dangle, but nothing fell out. He was about to replace it when something struck him.

He moved to the door and switched on the main light. He could see Eleanor’s clothes folded neatly on a chair by the bed. He walked across to a small wooden wardrobe in the far corner and opened it. He studied the contents and then looked back at Eleanor’s neat pile of clothes. He checked through each item one by one. Well known labels, well known shops. Not a hand knitted item amongst them.

He was still holding the catalogue in his hand. He went through it page by page. He found it two thirds of the way through, taped on to the page. An envelope.

He tore it free and flicked through its contents.

Photographs, but nothing else. He resisted the urge to examine them further. He needed to get out of here. He pushed the envelope into his pocket, then switched off the main light and the one on the desk. He moved over to the bed and reached for the wall light, then changed his mind. Eleanor was still staring into eternity. He reached out and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sure beyond any doubt that he had caused this.

He caught the scrape of a shoe on the tiled floor outside the door. He didn’t wait for whoever it was to pass. He scrambled out of the window and grabbed the hosepipe, pulling on it as he strained with his arms and got his feet against the wall, then began to climb back towards the roof.

The hose gave with a loud crack. Suddenly he was flying through the air, arms and legs flailing, which ended abruptly as he hit the ground with a loud thump that seemed to echo into the night. Pain erupted throughout his body. If it wasn’t for the snow, he was sure he would have broken his back, but it still knocked the wind out of him and left him struggling for breath.

The light from Eleanor’s window glowed above him, a beacon shining out into the night. He remembered the bedside light. He had meant to switch it off, but it was too late now.

He struggled to his feet, tentatively testing for any broken bones, but he appeared to be in one piece. He made his way across the open snow towards the trees where he had parked the car. A single oak tree stood in the middle of the white landscape. He tripped as something in the snow caught at his foot, probably one of its extended roots. Something caught his eye as he dropped to his knees.

A thin red light flicked across the bark of the tree trunk. Walker dived and rolled almost before his mind registered what it was. A sniper’s laser night sight.

Something tugged at the snow beside him. He scrambled to his feet, keeping low, ducking and weaving. Another bullet exploded into the snow inches from his foot. The tree line was only yards away, but it seemed like a million miles. He lunged for its cover, a single thought imprinted in his mind.

It looked like Viktor had finally got his way.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Walker crashed through the trees, branches whipped at his face, while bullets zipped past him, tugging at the outstretched branches and slapping into the tree trunks. He kept low, diving and weaving, though a part of him told him he was just as likely to swerve into the path of a bullet than away from it. Regardless, old instincts die hard.

The ground suddenly dipped. He slipped on to his backside and slid down through deep snow into a narrow gulley. He immediately darted off to his left, taking advantage of the natural cover. It was taking him further away from the car, but that was already too much of a risk. They were bound to have found it by now. He hoped Vasili had insurance. But then again, maybe he wished he didn’t.

He emerged from the gulley and pushed on, heading vaguely north. He could still hear the bullets whipping through the trees, but they were much further away now. There was a road out there, somewhere. What good it would do, he wasn’t sure.

It had begun to snow again, which was good because it covered his tracks. He kept moving for another thirty minutes before it appeared. The snow ploughs had not made it this far out, and the road was thick and smooth with snow. He stayed under the cover of the trees and followed it along until he spotted the mile post. Which was when he risked the phone call.

The phone seemed to ring forever before it answered, and he heard the grumpy voice of Ed Cooper.

“Ed, it’s Robert Walker.”

Ed gave an audible groan. “I seem to remember something about never hearing from you again.”

“Eleanor’s dead.”

The line went silent.

“There was someone waiting for me when I went back to see her. I think I lost them but I need you to come and pick me up.”

“You think you lost them?”

“I’m sure. I have some things I want you to see.”

“I was about to go to bed.”

“Ed, I need this.”

The line went silent. Walker wondered if he had hung up.

“Where are you?”

Walker gave him the mile post number.

“I’ll be there in about an hour.”

It was thirty minutes later when he saw the lights come down the hill, accompanied by the low rumble of the snow chains. He stayed out of sight until the four wheel drive, flat bed, truck came to a halt beside the marker post. It was already too dark to see inside the vehicle to see who was driving. Walker took a chance and slipped across the road. He opened the passenger side door. Ed Cooper did not look happy to see him.

“This had better be good.”

Walker forced a smile and slipped into the passenger seat.

“I hope so too.”

Ed pulled away, the four wheel drive and the snow chains biting into the snow.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

“Someone killed her, after I visited her.”

“Shit. Did she tell you anything?”

“You could say she left me a message.”

“So, tell me.”

“Can it wait?” Walker didn’t feel like talking right now. He was still trying to work out what had just happened.

Ed shrugged and concentrated on the road.

The warmth inside the truck was making Walker feel sleepy, but he couldn’t slip away. He couldn’t get Eleanor’s death stare out of his head.

She had wanted to talk to him. Presumably what he had said about the Sterlings being betrayed got through to her. Did she really believe it was Viktor? He wasn’t sure if even he believed that part. But maybe it had poked a nerve.

She had the boy’s photograph on her desk and no others. And now it was gone. Who was he? A memory from the past? Had he disturbed that memory? Was that why she wanted to talk to him? But what did she want to tell him? And why had someone taken it?

Suddenly, he was wide awake. His mouth and throat were dry and his heart was racing, threatening to burst out of his chest. He was well aware of what it was - fear, pure unadulterated fear.

He had been focusing on what he had discovered, or had not, for what had just happened. Someone had just tried to kill him. It seemed that Viktor was getting his way. And if he was no longer any use to Viktor, if Viktor wanted him dead.

What did that mean for Nikki?

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

It was after midnight when Ed turned off the road onto a narrow track that ran through the trees. He swung left through a gate into a clearing. It had stopped snowing and the moonlight illuminated the surroundings. A two story house, no doubt what the realtors would describe as a cottage, was tucked back against a thick undergrowth. It was built in stone, with a large chimney stack that ran up the outside wall, extending up beyond its steep snow covered roof. Ed swung the truck around, nose facing out, presumably for a swift getaway.

It looked like Ed was taking no chances.

A light was on behind the window drapes. As far as he knew, Ed lived alone. Ed seemed unperturbed, but he pulled out his Glock nonetheless, as he stepped up onto the front stoop and approached the front door. Walker followed suit with the H&K that Ed had given him earlier.

Ed unlocked the door and stepped inside. He moved swiftly, surprisingly light on his feet. Walker stayed close behind him, the H&K at the ready. A light was on in a room at the back, illuminating what appeared to be the living room through an open door. Something moved from behind the armchair. Ed stayed Walker’s gun hand as a silver tabby cat rushed up to Ed and brushed up beside his leg. Ed bent towards it and ruffled the fur under her chin.

“He doesn’t like being left alone in the dark.”

“Just you and the cat?”

Ed shrugged his generous shoulders. “Isn’t that the way it goes? My wife died a few years back. I have a boy in Chicago and a girl in San Francisco. I don’t hear from them too much these days. I guess they’re busy with their own lives.”

Walker looked at him, searching for any sign of regret. Ed didn’t seem to give anything away.

“I thought you were going fishing?”

“I’m leaving in the morning. Aren’t you glad I’m still here?” he said as he headed through the open door at the back of the room. The cat trotted behind him.

“Help yourself to a drink,” he called out. “I just need to feed Edgar.”

Walker found a half opened bottle of Wild Turkey. He was about to ask if Ed had any beer, but he relented and picked up the bottle. He poured a generous shot into a glass and took a sip.

Nikki was crowding into his head. Images, unimaginable images. A conversation he had had with Vasili sprang into his mind. They were sitting in the diner when he had first arrived in St. Petersburg. He had been confident then, well, at least he thought he had an edge.

‘While ever they need me for something, whatever that is, I have to believe they will keep Nikki alive.’

Vasili had given him a steel eyed stare. ‘And if you're wrong.’

He remembered clearly his own reply.

‘Then she’s already dead.’

He downed the bourbon and poured himself another. This was not helping her. He had to focus. Focus on what he had.

He sat down at the dining table and removed the envelope that Eleanor had left for him. Because he was sure that’s what she had done. She had left it for him to find.

He spread out the photographs on the tabletop - Eleanor’s treasured possessions.

There were some very old black and white snaps. A couple of older individuals, a short woman in a long black dress and a matching scarf wrapped around her head and shoulders. Another showed an older man. He looked small, wearing a buttoned up suit and a peaked cloth cap on his head. A badge with a star on it was pinned on the front. He was probably some local party official. Were these Eleanor’s parents? Was her father how she got started - on her path to January?

The other black and white snaps looked liked family gatherings, presumably back in Russia. He picked up a photo that was in color but it was still old. He could see that because the color had faded. Two boys in military uniform, perhaps the same uniform the boy had been wearing in the photo on Eleanor’s desk. A young girl stood between them. They were all smiling. The boy on the left was what had really caught his eye. He closed his eyes. An image of the photograph on Eleanor’s desk appeared in his head, the one that someone had seen fit to remove.

He gathered the pictures together in a heap, but one photograph had adhered itself to the rear of another. He pulled it free, leaving part of the picture stuck to the back of the other. It was also in color, and the part that had ripped away hadn’t damaged the subject. He was sure this was a copy of the one Eleanor had standing on her desk. He examined it closer. The boy was probably in his early teens. He was wearing the same military cadet’s uniform as in the other photo. Probably from a private military academy. There were lots of them about, dedicated to shaping the privileged youth of the nation into the leaders of the future.

He looked closer into the boy’s eyes. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Was there a sadness there? He picked up the other color photo. When he looked closer at the picture, they were all smiling, but the one on the right had a broad handsome smile and the girl, she looked younger than the two boys, she was also smiling and seemed to be looking up at him. But the other boy, the one that Eleanor had chosen to put on her desk. His mouth was smiling, but when Walker looked closer, he could see his eyes were not.

He dropped the photo on the desk and studied it. Why had Eleanor chosen this one and none of the others to be on her desk? Was it perhaps to remind her every day of something from her past?

Was he still alive? How old was the picture? Twenty five, thirty years old? Would he be a forty-year-old man now or older? Had the academy shaped him into a leader? Where was he now? He flicked it over. There was no convenient date written on the back. He checked the other one - same thing.

“Anything of interest?” Ed Cooper appeared at his shoulder, clutching a glass of Wild Turkey in one hand and the bottle in the other.

“This is a copy of the photo I saw on Eleanor’s desk when I first went to see her.” He held up the picture for Ed to see. “When I went back again it was gone.”

“Is that not the one? Maybe she just put it away.”

“No, that one was in a frame. And this one.” He tapped the area where the gloss had been torn off. “This had been stuck here for a while.”

Ed Cooper shook his head. “I could see what I can find in the Sterlings’ files.”

Walker smiled. “I said you were the sentimental type.”

“And I remember what I said about that.”

Ed sat at the table and pulled over a laptop. He open the lid and waited for it to boot up. The laptop chimed a couple of times, and Ed typed in his password. He pulled a memory stick out of his pocket and plugged it in. The screen went blank, then prompted again for another password. Ed typed in something and the screen opened up with an array of file icons.

“I collected these files when I still had access. So they’re not the latest version.”

“The latest version. The files are thirty years old.”

Ed gave a tight smile. “Maybe I should tell you something about the FBI.”

Walker topped up their glasses, while Ed talked.

“But. . .” Walker had a thousand questions.

“Do you want me to find this stuff, or not?”

Ed began clicking away at the file icons. “This may take a while. There’s a spare bedroom at the back. You might want to get some sleep.”

Walker glanced around. “I think maybe we should leave. We can do this someplace else. Somewhere safe. I get the impression that visiting Eleanor was a step too far. Up to now they’ve been trying to pull me in, alive. For whatever reason, I have no idea about. But back there they were trying to kill me. The rules have changed, and I’m still in the dark about why. But right now they’re searching everywhere I’ve been, everyone I know. Do they know about this place?”

“Who knows. They’ve not been here.”

“Well I think we should leave. We need to get away and lie low until we can find something to move on.”

“Just give me a minute while I check something. That picture of the boy made me think of something.”

Walker stood up and put down his glass. He wasn’t going to drink anymore. If things were tumbling around his head before, they were spinning now.

“Do you have coffee?”

“Kitchen,” Ed called out, his face still glued to the screen. “There’s newly ground coffee in a can in the fridge, and a coffee machine on the counter.”

Walker headed towards the kitchen. He needed coffee, lots of coffee. Something flicked past him. A memory triggered in his head. An oak tree outside the retirement home. He swung around. The red laser light danced across Ed’s chest.

“No.” Walker dived for the former FBI agent as the window shattered. Ed appeared to be punched back in his chair. There was no sound of a shot.

Walker pulled him out of the chair as Ed seemed to be grasping for the laptop. He pulled him down onto the floor and pulled out the H&K. Ed had a hole in his chest that was oozing blood. His eyes were screwed up tight in pain.

“Take it easy. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Ed opened his eyes and coughed up blood that ran down his chin. He grabbed a hold of Walker’s hand. Walker felt something pushed into it. Walker looked down at his hand at the blood smeared memory stick. Ed seemed to manage a grin. “Remember the old days,” he said. Then, in an instant, he was gone.

CHAPTER FORTY

Walker ran for the wall and switched off the light. He did the same in the kitchen, then crouched in the corner and waited. Something brushed against his leg. Edgar, the cat.

He reached down and tickled it beneath the chin. He felt it somehow calming.

They would come for him soon. He didn’t know how many there were, or what his chances were. But he was not going down alone. He would make them pay for Nikki.

But staying here was not good. He needed to get outside. His chances were better out there. He had more options. He worked his way back into the living room. He could see the vague mound of Ed’s body lying by the table. He scrambled over and patted down his clothing. He found what he was looking for in his trouser pocket. The keys to the truck. He stuffed them in his jacket pocket and moved up against the wall beneath the window. He needed to move. He had had only moments before they would be coming in.

He let his mind play back the images as he had approached the house. The kitchen door. A driveway and a garage. And a set of steps leading down to a basement entrance. He glanced around, his eyes getting accustomed to the dark. He could make out the stairs leading up to the first floor and the door beneath.

He moved across and opened it. It was pitch black inside, but he reached down with a foot and felt the firm resistance of a step. He moved down, keeping a hand on the wall. A low ambient light was cast into the room as reached the bottom, filtering in through the narrow horizontal windows that ran along the top of the wall at outside ground level. He could just make out a door at the far side.

The sound of breaking glass came from somewhere above his head. He took the chance to move. He reached the door. There was a key in the lock. It probably hadn’t been opened in a while and resisted his attempt to turn it. He tugged on the door handle and wiggled on the key. Eventually it gave. He turned the handle and pulled on the door. It opened with a heart piercing creak.

Walker stood there, holding his breath. He held out the H&K in front of him, then climbed the snow covered steps. At the top, he stopped. His head just below the line of the ground. He took a breath, then moved, taking the last few steps at a sprint. He darted forward, then dived and rolled and came up holding the gun in both hands, swinging around looking for targets. A man appeared at the door, an automatic rifle in his hand.

It wasn’t Ivan.

Walker shot him in the chest. It was an instinctive action.

Apart from the madness out on the ice, it had been a long time since he had taken aim and shot a man. He pushed the thought out of his mind and headed for the gate.

A window shattered. Walker caught sight of man in the window frame holding an automatic rifle. It still wasn’t Ivan. He recognized the ugly snout of a sound suppressor attached to the barrel. It opened up with the sound of a smoker’s cough. Bullets tore at the snow around his feet. Walker didn’t wait to fire back. He ducked through the back gate. The truck was there, but he knew he didn’t have time to get in, start it, and get away. He dived into the trees and ducked behind a snow covered bush and waited, trying to steady his breath and the rush of his heart.

He caught the soft scrunch of a boot in the snow. It was close by. The man was suddenly standing beside him, close enough to touch. He must have worked his way around the side. It seemed they were just as surprised as each other.

The man tried to bring up his weapon. Walker pushed it aside and brought up his own. The man stepped in, sweeping back his rifle, and catching Walker’s gun hand on the knuckles. The H&K flew out of his hand into the snow.

Walker moved in close, not giving the man any room to maneuver his weapon. He caught the harsh stink of his body odor. He grabbed a hold of the barrel, then delivered a straight jab into the man’s nose with the flat of his other hand. The man staggered back and dropped to his knees. Walker snatched at the weapon the man still clutched in his hands. But the weather was below zero and without gloves, the rifle slipped from his frozen fingers as he tugged it free. He reached into the snow to retrieve it.

A deranged animal roar sounded behind him. He swung around. The other man’s face was a bloody mangled mess, but he was holding a knife. The man lunged at him. Walker took a sidestep, but his foot slipped on the snow, and the blade sliced through his coat and bit into his side, deep.

Walker hit out at what was left of the man’s nose with the heel of his hand. He felt the bone and cartilage disintegrate. The man collapsed with a harsh, gurgling squeal, then went silent.

Walker dropped to his knees beside him and quickly checked his belongings. There was not a lot to show, no ID, no credit cards, a few hundred dollars in cash. He didn’t bother checking the other one. He knew the results would be the same. Neither were Ivan. He had the feeling that if either had been, then maybe he wouldn’t be. . .

He stuffed the cash in his pocket, then found a Glock 19 in a shoulder holster, and two spare magazines in the man’s jacket. He shoved them into his coat pocket and staggered back to the truck.

He looked up at the sky. The snow clouds were building. A storm was coming. Hopefully, it would arrive before morning and cover the bodies.

The world tilted violently, and Walker grabbed a hold of the truck. His legs were shaking, and he was sure he was going to pass out. His side was wet with blood. Part of him told him to just let go. But the other part, the stubborn part, told him he was not going to die. Maya wouldn’t let him do that. He had to believe that while ever he was still alive, so was Nikki.

He took a deep breath, which hurt like hell, and waited for it to pass. A fire burned in his side. His whole left side was a bloody mess. He took another breath and struggled into the truck.

He already knew what he had to do before he admitted it. He needed help, and there was only one place he could go if he wanted any chance of staying alive.

* * *

He drove on autopilot, trying desperately to stay conscious. He put some distance between himself and the house before he pulled over. His side was soaked with blood. He needed some first aid, or he would not make it. He found an old towel behind the back seat. He lift his shirt and tucked it into the wound. It wasn’t clean, but it was better than bleeding to death. He found a roll of duct tape in a toolbox under the back seat and taped up the towel. It wasn’t good, but it was all he had.

The snow had begun falling again by the time he reached the edge of the city. The place was in Georgetown, a small block of condos in a brownstone house on a tree lined street. He hoped he had remembered the address.

There had been a time when he had planned to reach out shortly after Maya had died. But in the end, he had stayed on the island with Nikki.

He struggled out of the car and staggered to the front door. A line of doorbells with a label against each one. He struggled to focus, but he caught the name. He rang the doorbell, leaving a bloody mark across the door frame, then stood there, swaying. A voice crackled through the speaker.

“Yes? Who is it?”

Walker looked up at the tiny camera above the doorbells. He tried his best to smile.

“Hi honey, it’s me, Dad.”

The speaker went silent. He heard the clatter of footsteps on a stair, then the rattle of a lock. The door opened against a check chain and the face of a young woman looked out. He had only seen her face through the media since she had grown up. Last time he had looked at her face in the flesh, she was five years old.

The young woman’s eyes widened as recognition dawned. “Dad?”

Walker smiled. He tried to speak, but he didn’t recognize the words. He heard the rattle of the security chain somewhere way above his head, then light flooded out as the door opened. A growing roar pounded in his ears and his vision seemed like a narrow cone, closing in on him. He reached out for the door frame, but it was no longer there. The darkness took him before he hit the floor.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

The paparazzi cameras flashed at the new arrivals. People were crowding in along the roped off barrier as the limousine came to a halt where the red carpet ended at the sidewalk in front of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts

The driver got out and opened the rear passenger door. Brad Colbert got out first. The tux looked expensive and fit perfectly. The crowd gave a cry as they caught sight of of him. He flashed a handsome smile, then reached a helping hand back into the car. They grew to a wild yelling and shrieking as Jennifer stepped out onto the red carpet.

Tonight was a special charity performance of the Lion King. All proceeds were going to a national children’s charity of which Jennifer was the patron.

She moved out onto the red carpet. The crimson silk dress clunk to her tall, lithe figure, shining in the spotlights, accentuating her every movement. She paused to smile for the crowd. A woman clutching a microphone pushed forward. She was a well known news anchor for a local TV station, known for her revealing one-on-one interviews. She pushed the microphone towards Jennifer, but Jennifer made a clever side step at the last moment, leaving her husband facing the woman.

The news anchor continued unfazed. “Senator Colbert, wonderful to see you here tonight.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here. The cause is worthy and hopefully we will raise a lot of money tonight for children in need.”

Brad Colbert tried to turn away, a protecting arm around his wife’s back.

“Senator, is it true that the President intends to choose you as the next Vice President, following the death of Vice President O’Connell? Our viewers at WBTV would love to hear the answer to that question.”

Brad smiled. “I guess you should address the question to the President.”

The woman took the opportunity as Jennifer turned to push the microphone in front of her.

“Missus Colbert, rumors are flying thick and fast. They say that the President intends to select America’s golden couple as his ticket to reelection next year.”

Jennifer flashed a perfect set of white teeth. “Maybe you should ask America’s golden couple.”

The TV anchor smiled. “Come now, Jennifer, you know what they say. You and the Senator are America’s sweethearts, the golden couple. Just your presence on any ticket would guarantee a massive amount of votes from middle America.”

Jennifer stopped and gave her a serious look.

“I’m not sure what, or who, middle America is, but if they are watching tonight, I would urge them to support our cause here. Children in our own country, without food, without health care and without education. If we are the golden couple to support that, well, we are both happy to do that. I urge all the viewers out there to give generously to this cause.”

She turned away with her husband close behind. The yelling intensified as they made their way along the red carpet. Cameras flashed, people thrust against the rope barriers, recording the couple with their phones and tablets. Jennifer paused and smiled at a woman who was trying to capture her on her phone. She leaned her head back towards Brad.

“Keep smiling darling, we’re almost there.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Nikki lay in the dark, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She had been dreaming of her mother. They were diving together. The water was crystal clear. A large shoal of yellow angel fish with bright blue stripes was flowing past them. It was the most magical sight, and she felt as if she would burst with joy. She had looked around, trying to catch sight of her father.

Something moved out of the depths below. A dark shadow darted across the edge of her vision. She couldn’t make it out. Then it disappeared.

She tried to wave to her mother, but she was looking away. The light seemed to fade, the bright glowing angel fish now looked a lifeless grey and her mother seemed to fade along with them. She wanted to swim to her, but no matter how hard she kicked and struggled, she only seemed to move further away.

The angel fish were now almost black and completely obscured her mother. She looked around for her father, but he wasn’t there. She opened her mouth to scream, her breathing regulator disappeared, and the water rushed in.

She woke up gasping for breath, her heart racing.

It was the second time she had had that dream. She had scratched two more marks on the wood paneled wall. She had started out with such hope, but each time she scratched a new mark, she could not push aside the thought. Her father was not coming.

Things were changing. She had heard them talking, shouting. She was running out of time. For a time she had held onto the hope that her father would find her. But each day ended, and he had not arrived. Each day, Ivan had seemed more frustrated. Until this evening.

Ivan had left with the other two men late in the afternoon and when she awoke he had returned, alone. The one who had been left to guard her was asking Ivan questions, but Ivan was not answering. He had begun drinking, which always bothered her. Then Mister Polyakov had called, and the shouting had begun. She had climbed into bed and pulled the sheets over her head.

She laid there for a while but was unable to sleep. The thought was there, clear in her mind. She had decided deep down some time earlier, but only now had she let it surface. Only now did she acknowledge it. Her time was running out. No one was coming to rescue her. Whatever she did, she had to do it herself.

But down there in the depths of the darkness, there was one tiny flicker of hope. She got out of bed and walked barefoot into the bathroom. There was a small porthole. Not big enough to get through, but she could see out of it. She had spent hours staring out — at nothing. But each evening, as the light faded, the boat swung around on its anchor with the turn of the tide. It had turned now and she could see them dancing on the horizon, as the boat rocked gently on the swell — Lights.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Vasili had a prime table by the large panoramic window overlooking the river Neva. Bright sunshine shone out of a clear blue sky, casting a golden sheen across the marble walls of the Winter Palace on the Dvortsovaya Naberezhnaya, the Palace Embankment, over on the far shore. The Neva was still and frozen with ice that ran like a snow white blanket to the far shore. It gave Vasili a chilled memory of his and Robert’s near disastrous walk on the ice further out towards the gulf. It was a memory he was trying to forget. Outside, it was below freezing, but inside the electric heaters kept the room at a pleasant temperature. Which was the way he preferred.

He saw her as she appeared at the door, resplendent in a silver sable fur coat wrapped around her shoulders and a matching hat. The head waiter almost fell over, getting to greet her. Vasili had tipped him generously for both the table and the greeting. The waiter took her coat and hat, then pointed out Vasili as she stepped into the room.

She wore a brightly colored kaftan over stretch black leggings, and a silk scarf wrapped around her head. The dark glasses completed the illusion. She was still tall and lithe, with the elegance and poise of a prima ballerina, and seemed to float across the floor.

Vasili stood up and stepped out to meet her.

“Olga, my darling.” He took her hand and bowed to kiss it. He looked up and smiled. “Still as ravaging as ever.”

“Oh stop it, Vasili. I am wrinkled as an old hag.”

“Nonsense. You look wonderful. As if you have just stepped off the stage at the Bolshoi.”

Olga gave a wistful smile. “I wish.”

Vasili pulled out a chair. “Come, sit down. It has been so long. I ordered your favorite. A little chilled Dom Perignon, and Basil’s finest Beluga. I thought we would have a nice lunch. Basil has assured me, the pan fried North Sea Plaice is to die for. And maybe a little pleasant conversation. It has been too long.”

A waiter rushed up as she sat down and poured her a glass of champagne from the bottle chilling in the ice bucket. She reached out and took a sip. Her sharp blue eyes still held their sparkle.

“So Vasili, what do you want?”

Vasili gave her a hurt look. “Can I not ask out my oldest friend for a little lunch and some pleasant reminiscing?”

“Darling, you always want something.”

Vasili gave her a sheepish smile. “Well, seeing as you asked. I wanted to talk to you about an old friend.”

Olga raised an elegantly sculpted eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Vasili shrugged an apology. “Maybe that was a poor joke. I wanted to talk about Viktor Polyakov.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Walker opened his eyes. His head pounded like the worst hangover and his tongue was dry as cardboard. He felt like he was tied up tight. He touched his chest. He realized his entire chest was bandaged. He raised up his arm and looked at his watch. It was just past twelve, and from the light coming in the window, that was noon.

“How are you feeling?” Tanya stood in the doorway.

He looked across at her, still unsure if this was a dream. “To be honest, I’ve felt better.”

“I heard you moving earlier, but I left you to for a little while. Here, drink this.” Tanya held a steaming mug. “Can you sit up?”

Walker eased himself into a half sitting position. Tanya put the mug on the side table and tucked another pillow in behind him. His side hurt, but it didn’t feel as bad as before.

“What is it?”

“Beef soup. Alice says it will do you good.”

“Who’s Alice?”

“She’s my friend. She lives upstairs. She stitched you up and bandaged you.”

“Looks like she did a good job.”

Tanya smiled. “She’s an ER nurse.”

Walker realized he was naked beneath the bedsheet.

“Who undressed me?”

“It’s alright Dad, Alice did. I told you she’s a nurse. She sees that kind of thing all the time.”

“That kind of thing?” Walker looked under the sheets.

She shot him a hard look. “Let’s not get into that. Now drink your soup. Alice says you’ve lost a lot of blood. You need to rest and build up your strength.”

He sipped at the soup. It was hot. “Who made the soup?”

Tanya stood in front of him, her arms folded. “I did.”

He flashed her a smile. “It’s good.” He took another sip, then looked at her.

“I’m sorry for coming here, but I didn’t have a choice.”

Maybe it was the blood loss, but he knew as soon as the words came out, it was not what she wanted to hear.

“Of course you didn’t. Why else would you come here.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Tanya gave him a hard look. “What are you doing here, Dad? What happened to you? And where is Nikki?”

He looked at her. “You know about Nikki?”

Tanya shrugged. “Maya told me.”

“What? You knew about Maya?”

“You’re way out of touch, dad.”

“Seems like it.”

“She wrote to me when Mom died.”

The whole thing was tumbling around in his head, then the guilt kicked in again. “I was sorry to hear about that.”

“Don’t be. She and Frank had a good life down in Florida.”

He knew about Frank. He had stepped in to comfort his ex-wife when he had left.

“I’m glad.”

“Maya contacted me on Facebook. I was curious. She said she was really sorry to hear about Mom. She said you were upset, but she couldn’t persuade you to come back for the funeral. You always were stubborn.”

“I get the impression that is a family trait you may have inherited.”

“Maya wrote to me, I like to think we became friends. She seemed really nice. She told me about the dive school on the Greek island, and when she was expecting Nikki, and after she was born, she told me all about her. Then towards the end, when she knew.” Tanya paused and looked out of the window. A tear glinted in her eye. “She asked me to stay in touch with Nikki, to be her friend.”

“I never saw any letters.”

Tanya shook her head. “Have you never heard of social media. Nikki and I are friends on Facebook and we stay in touch on Messenger. She seems a great girl, or should I say a woman. She’s growing up fast. So where is she? Don’t tell me you walked out on her too.”

Walker felt his heart was about to stop. The look on Tanya’s face said she regretted it as soon as she said it. He held up a hand. “It’s alright. I deserved it.”

Tanya turned and walked out of the room.

Walker sipped at his soup. He was doing a great job of the family reunion.

Tanya came back smoking a cigarette and sat down on the end of the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry. It should be me doing the apologizing.”

Tanya took a long pull on her cigarette and shook her head as she blew out the smoke.

“The thing is. I’m not angry with you anymore. I can tell from what Nikki has told me, you’re a good father to her. And look, I get it. I’ve had my own share of bumps in the road. Wrong choices, or maybe just choices for which I had to pay the price. So where is she, back in Greece?”

Walker took a deep breath. “They took her.”

He could see the genuine shock on her face.

“I’ve been trying to find her. I know they brought her here to Washington. I’ve been looking for her.”

“Who are they?”

“People from my past. I got too close to them and they tried to kill me.”

“But why?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Look, I’m sorry, I don’t want to bring any trouble here, but I had no place else to go. Thanks for patching me up and the soup. If you get me my clothes, I’ll leave you to get on with your life.”

“You turn up after twenty years, bleeding all over my apartment, and you expect me to smile, stitch you up and send you on your way.” She stood up from the bed. “Fine, I’ll get your clothes.”

“Tanya, please.” He held up both hands this time. “Sorry, can I start again. Look, you don’t know how many times I wanted to come back, to say I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused you. Back then I was in a bad place and there was a lot of bad stuff going on in my life that I didn’t want you to be any part of.”

Tanya stood with one hand on her hip, looking directly at him. “And that’s all changed now?”

Walker shrugged. “Okay. So I didn’t plan it this way. I’m sorry. Look, let me just say it. I’d never been a proper husband to your mother, and I’d never been a proper father to you. I wanted you to have a normal life, and my life was far from normal. So I left.”

He’d started now, so he just let it come.

“When I met Maya, and she started putting me back together again, I figured you had already built a new life and you didn’t need me to come crashing in and messing it all up. But I followed your life, what you were doing. I hear you’re a hotshot journalist these days. I’ve read all your stuff. I get it online.”

“You surprise me.”

“Just because I was out of your life didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in it. I managed to get pictures of your graduation. When you joined the Washington Post, I tracked everything you did. I worried about you when you were in Afghanistan and in Iraq. I was relieved when you were back in D.C. Your life seemed to be going well. You didn’t need me barging in and upsetting it.”

“Look, despite you and Mom, I know how you felt about Maya.”

“How?”

“Maya told me.”

“She say anything else?”

“Maybe that should stay between me and her.”

Walker shrugged. “I guess I deserve that.”

“She seemed like a good person.”

Walker had to blink back the tears. “Like you’d never believe. She was too good for me.”

“I know Maya saw something in you, something good, too. One thing that came across very clear in all the messages we exchanged. She loved you very much.”

It suddenly welled up inside him like a dam about to burst. He had to hold on to stop it just washing right over him. He knew if it did, he was gone, and he still had a long way to go with this. He took a deep breath, not trusting himself to speak.

Eventually, he held up the cup. “Do you have anything stronger to drink around here than soup?”

“You’re not supposed to drink with those antibiotics that Alice gave you.”

“I’m immune.”

Tanya wandered off and came back with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass.

He held his hand out for the bottle but Tanya poured him a measured shot and handed him the glass.

“You’re not joining me?”

Tanya shook her head. “I don’t. I keep that for visitors.”

Walker looked at the bottle and understood. “I’m sorry for that too.”

Tanya shrugged and smiled. “There were some good things you brought into my life.”

Walker took a sip and let the bourbon run across his tongue. It felt good, and he felt guilty. “I can’t even begin to believe what they were.”

“Independence, determination — sobriety.”

Tanya smiled, Walker grimaced.

“I guess I asked for that.”

“No, I mean it. They have helped me build my life and a successful career. Well, somewhat successful.”

“Seems pretty successful from what I’ve seen.”

“I was actually pleased when Maya contacted me. She told me a little about your life. I could tell from what she wrote you were both very happy.”

Walker wanted to speak, but he didn’t trust himself. He took another sip of his bourbon.

“I know I never met her, but she seemed really nice. Maya said she hoped that one day we could meet and perhaps become friends.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen now.” Walker struggled to breathe. Suddenly, her loss was like a deep chasm and he just wanted to throw himself into it.

“Same old Dad I always remembered, blunt and to the point.”

“I’m sorry. Look, I have things I have to do. Where are my clothes?”

She walked across to a chair in the corner “Are you looking for this?” She held up the envelope. “Or this?” In the other hand she held up the gun between her finger and thumb.

“Tanya, put down the gun.”

“Just asking.” She laid the gun back on the chair. “What did I expect when you turn up bleeding all over my doorstep.”

She handed over the envelope and Walker took out the photograph of the boy. “This is important. I don’t know why, but I know that finding out who this boy is,” he tapped the face on the photograph, “is central to working out what this is all about.”

“You always did live a complicated life.”

“I thought I’d left all that behind me. But someone couldn’t leave it that way. Someone came and took Nikki away. I’m not going to stop until I find her.”

“But why did they take her?”

“Someone seems to have reached out from my past for some reason. I have no idea why, but when I find them they’re going to meet the person I was in my past.”

“You mean you’re going to kill them.”

Walker drained his bourbon, then smiled at her. “Whatever it takes.”

Tanya shook her head. “Same old dad.”

“Changing the subject, I don’t see your stuff online anymore.”

“I’m freelance these days. The Post and I had a disagreement about editorial freedom.”

“You mean they didn’t like what you were writing about.”

“I write what I find. Maybe I’m old fashioned but I try to tell the truth.”

“The truth, now there’s a good old fashioned concept. What ever happened to it?”

“It’s still out there, you just have to dig for it.”

Walker held up the photograph. “I could use your help to dig for this. Find the truth in it.” He looked up at her. “Help me find Nikki.”

“Did I ever tell you I’m damned good at what I do.”

“No, but I don’t doubt it.”

Tanya nodded as she blinked back the tears. “We’ll find her. She’s my sister too.”

Then they were both struggling to hold back the tears.

“I’m so glad you feel that way.”

He took a deep breath, then held out the glass.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough of that?”

“Last one.”

He tapped the photograph with his forefinger. “You see that uniform? Do you think you could identify that school? It looks like some kind of military academy.”

Tanya took the photo and studied it. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Walker’s head dropped forward, then came up again as he caught it, his eyes wide open. He suddenly felt very tired, as if he had exhausted all his energy.

“You need to sleep.” Tanya took the glass, then helped him to lie back against the pillows.

“Wake me up if you find something,” Walker muttered out of semi-consciousness.

Tanya tucked the sheet under his chin. “Sleep.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Lloyd Donovan saw her as she came in through the door. It was a small bistro on M-street, one of Julia’s favorites. He stood up as she reached the table and she leaned over and kissed him.

“Lunch, in the middle of the week. I’m impressed.” She flashed him a smile that lit up her face.

“I found myself in town with a couple of hours free, so I thought I’d call you.”

“I’m not complaining. You can treat me to Emilio’s Beef Carpaccio.”

“Already ordered. Here try this wine, you’ll really like it.” Donovan picked up the bottle from the ice bucket and poured her a glass.

Julia gave him an slight sideways look, then sipped the wine and smiled. “Nice, so tell me? My favorite restaurant, excellent Chablis, what is this all about?”

“I think it’s time we got away from this place.”

“I haven’t had my Carpaccio yet.”

Donovan grinned. “I mean away from this town, this whole scene. I take my pension, sell the apartment, we head south. I’ve always had a hankering for the Keys. We could go now, I’ve got vacation time and a bunch of personal days due to me. Let’s spend Christmas in Key West, Hemingway country. We could welcome the New Year in Sloppy Joe’s, that was Hemingway’s favorite bar. To have and to have not. I could pretend to be Humphrey Bogart you can be Lauren Bacall. Here’s looking at you kid.” Donovan did a passable Bogart impression.

“I thought that was Casablanca?”

“Whatever, it will be just the two of us. Look I have let this business use me up, eat me up. I need to get out before it consumes me. I’ve had the most incredible luck meeting you, having you in my life. I’m not going to put that at risk. Come on Julia, let’s do it.”

“You are a romantic, but I guess that’s what I’ve always loved about you.”

“Will you do it.”

“All the bars, and all the gin joints in all the world and you have to walk into mine.”

“Is that a yes.”

Julia gave a wide smile. “It’s a yes. But I have something I need to do first. A last thing to finally lay my father to rest. Then I can go.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

When he opened his eyes, it was dark. Walker reached for the light switch with his good arm. Tanya had been in and closed the curtains. His watch told him it was just after five. He struggled out of bed. There was a small bathroom attached to the bedroom. He stood holding onto the sink, studying at the face in the mirror.

He was a wreck. His face was streaked with filth and bloodstains, his beard was getting out of control. He had the look of a homeless man.

He spent ten minutes dancing about in the shower, trying to keep his wound dry and still get clean. Tanya was sitting at a wooden writing desk, staring into a laptop, when he stepped into the living room.

“Keeping busy?”

She looked up. “You should still be in bed.”

“I’ve got too much to do.”

“How are you feeling?”

Walker shrugged. “Better, but I guess that’s relative.”

“Are you hungry?”

“More soup?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I love it.”

“Good, because Alice says you need lots of it. She said she’ll be in later when she gets off shift, to change your dressing.”

Tanya warmed up the soup in the microwave and set the bowl on the table. Walker gave her a tight grin and picked up the spoon.

“I have to believe Nikki is still alive. She’s out there somewhere, and she’s scared, and she depending on me to come and get her. I thought I had an edge. I thought I could make them bring her to me. But I blew it and now she’s vulnerable, and I can do nothing to help her.”

“We have to believe. We have to focus.”

“You sound like me, when I was your age.”

Tanya looked up at him. “You know, when I was a kid, I would make up my own stories about you. I always imagined you were out there saving the world and one day you would come back to find me.”

“I’m sorry I let you down.”

“I’m not sure you did. In a way, it made me strong. And besides, you’re here now, and you’re not going to let Nikki down. We’re going to find her.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

Tanya smiled and sat down on the chair beside him. “One of the basic skills you learn as a journalist is how to ask questions.”

“That’s good.”

“So why don’t I start with you.” She held up the photograph of the boy. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

Walker shrugged and took a spoonful of the beef broth. “It’s a long story, but I don’t know the ending, or the middle. I’m not even sure if I understand the beginning.”

“Why don’t you start there, at the beginning.”

Walker put down his spoon. “Have you got any more of that bourbon?”

Tanya made him stick with the soup, but he told it all, right from the beginning, on the day that Nikki went missing.

“Do I get the bourbon, now?” Walker said as he finished up.

Tanya relented and brought the bottle. She poured a measured shot and handed over the glass.

“So that was me. What about you? Did you find anything?”

“I tracked down the uniform and the school. Cabot Welch, Military Academy, Philadelphia.”

“I’m impressed.”

“They even have a website, and the yearbooks are online.”

“Did you find him?”

“Have you any idea how many individual photographs there are?”

“So you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say that. I have a friend, works for the NSA.”

“Scary stuff.”

“He has access to face recognition software, highly classified.”

“And?”

“He scanned the yearbooks and found him in the one for 1992. The boy’s name is Mathew Walton.”

“So who is he?”

“I did some checking on him. He came from a well-to-do Virginia family. Interesting thing about him. I have a friend who’s an expert in digging into people’s backgrounds.”

“You have a lot of friends with questionable occupations.”

“I’m a journalist, that’s my job.”

“So tell me.”

“Mathew Walton was adopted.”

“So, lots of people are adopted.”

“But Mathew was fifteen years old when he was adopted.”

“You’re telling me that Mathew Walton was not Mathew Walton. Who was he?”

“That’s a hard one. The adoption records are sealed.”

“Whoever he is, why was he in a photograph on Eleanor Birkhov’s desk?”

“And she’s dead.”

“Viktor shut her up, I’m sure, so she couldn’t talk to me. I need to find out what she had to say. But from what Ed Cooper told me—”

“Who is also dead.”

Walker shrugged and took a sip of his bourbon. He didn’t want to point out the fact that it was Dimitri who originally told him about Eleanor, who was also dead.

“From what Ed told me, she was January’s, the Sterlings’, controller. I want to know why Eleanor had a photograph of this boy on her desk, thirty years later.”

“Sounds very James Bond.”

“Trust me, it’s nothing like that at all.” Walker pulled out the pen drive from his pocket. “I think this might help. Ed Cooper gave me this. It contains all the FBI’s files on the January case. Can you search through it and find out what you can about Eleanor Birkhov?”

Walker handed over the pen drive.

“Is this blood?”

“Sorry, I’ll clean it up.”

“Never mind, I’ll do it.”

Tanya disappeared into the kitchen, then reappeared and sat down at the table. She opened up her laptop and plugged in the flash drive.

“It needs a password.”

“What?”

“I said it needs a password. Did he give you one?”

“No, he just gave me the flash drive and —”

“And?”

“He died.”

“Well think. What would he use?”

“Try January.”

“No.”

“Try all caps.”

“I did.”

“Sterlings?”

“No.”

Walker closed his eyes. Ed Cooper thrust the flash drive into his hand. But he didn’t die, not straight away. He had gripped Walker’s fingers holding the drive. What had he said?

“Remember the old days.”

“What?”

“Try theolddays, all one word.”

Tanya tapped away at the keyboard and studied the screen.

“We’re in.”

“Great, what have you got?”

“There’s a lot of stuff in here. It could take me a week to work my way through it.”

“We don’t have a week.”

“Then you had better leave me alone.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Viktor Polyakov stepped out of the VIP arrival area at Ronald Reagan International. It seemed like he had travelled forever to get here. The limo was waiting for him. The driver stood with the rear door open. Viktor climbed in and settled back in the sumptuous leather seat.

“Any news?”

Yuri turned around in the front passenger seat. “Not since we last spoke.”

Yuri was his man on the ground. His eyes and ears. The one reporting back to him. Yuri was in contact with the others but kept his distance from them. He was the one who had spotted the tail at the Georgetown library and had organized for that problem to be snuffed out. The rest were just hired help, but Yuri was a man he could trust.

Viktor hit the button beside him and the glass divider slid up, sealing him off alone with his problems. He had a pounding headache and he was exhausted. Even though his private jet had every luxury imaginable, including a kingsized bed, he had not slept a wink on the flight over, or during the twelve hours they had sat on the tarmac at JFK while mechanics worked on a hydraulic problem they had developed over the Atlantic. Fortunately the pilot had managed to land safely at JFK.

He had plenty of time to reflect on his problems and - was it guilt? Eleanor had been so essential to making it work, for bringing it this far. Without her it would have never got started. But in the end she had doubted their purpose, and the cost.

The whole story played over and over in his head. He was so close now, and he had waited so long, but it seemed the gods, or what ever demons were lined up against him, were determined to rip victory from his grasp.

Viktor had consumed the best part of a bottle of vodka while he had been waiting in the VIP lounge in JFK. But by the time they took off for Reagan International, he was halfway sober again and the headache was pounding at his skull. It seemed from that point on, the news had only got worse.

He didn’t speak to Yuri again on their way into the city. He had reserved a suite at the Hay-Adams hotel on Lafayette Square. Yuri brought in his bags then left him alone. The suite had its own balcony with a magnificent view of the White House. He stood out in the cold morning looking at it. Bright sunshine bathed its pristine white walls. When he was in the KGB, this had been the center of what they had called the Main Enemy.

His special phone beeped and vibrated on the marble table top. He walked across and picked it up. The message was written in three lines.

‘Eleanor is dead.’

‘Walker was there.’

‘Did he do this?’

He didn’t need this right now. He tapped in a reply.

‘I am taking care of it.’

He put down the phone and walked over to the bar. He picked up a bottle of Stolichnaya. The hotel provided it specially, as ordered. He filled a glass with ice cubes and poured a generous shot of the vodka. The phone beeped again. He took a generous glug, then walked over and picked it up.

‘Where are you?’

Somehow he got the feeling that was a rhetorical question.

‘Hay Adams hotel.’ He tapped in, then added. ‘I am taking care of everything.’

The phone blinked at him, then came back.

‘Everything?’

The phone blinked again, then added.

‘How is that working out?’

Viktor wanted to smash the phone against the wall. Instead he resisted the urge to crush it in his hand and typed in.

‘I have people searching for him. They have orders to terminate him on sight.’

The reply came back  quickly.

‘No!!!’

It was strange how one word in a message could convey so much anger. The phone bleeped again.

‘You will bring him to me.’

Viktor knew this was not the time to argue this point but he did anyway. It was a strange way to have an argument.

‘The risk is too high. He has spoken to Eleanor. We have no idea what she said to him.’

‘Is that why you killed her?’

Viktor took a deep breath. There was no point responding.

‘I thought we had a plan? We have come too far to let it all fall apart now.’

He wanted to add that he had given everything that was asked for. He had procured the CIA file. Had located Walker, had kidnapped his daughter, and persuaded him to come to the United States. None of which were vital to their end goal But what was the point.

The line went silent before offering up a final line.

‘Find him. Then we will decide.’

Viktor threw the phone onto the comfy armchair and walked back over to the bar. He sank the vodka and poured himself another.

The phone remained silent.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Walker had fallen asleep again, lying on the bed fully clothed. He opened his eyes and could see Tanya through the open door, sitting at the table, tapping away on her laptop. He wanted to just look at her.

She had grown into a beautiful woman. Natural blond, tall, slim, with an intelligent look in her eye. Which he knew from following her career was more than just a look.

She appeared to keep herself in shape. He felt the tug of guilt again. She reminded him a lot of her mother. He wasn’t sure if she got anything from him.

She seemed to sense him watching and looked up.

“You’re awake.” She stood up and walked into the room.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“What about you? Did you find anything in Ed Cooper’s files?”

“You could say so.” Tanya smiled. “You said it was about this January case, these illegals, Matt and Helen Sterling. Your flash drive had some interesting stuff about them. Like, for instance, they had two children.”

“I guess I knew that.” It was one of those useless facts he had stored away somewhere in the depths of his memory.

“That’s where it gets interesting. Let me show you something.”

Walker sat up, but Tanya put a hand on his chest. Stay there. She walked back into the living room and picked up her laptop, then came back and sat on the bed.

“I was looking into the Sterlings and I found this.” She turned the laptop around, revealing an image on the screen. “Looks like a family skiing holiday. According to the date associated with it, it was taken in the early part of 1991. The Sterlings took their own lives in November of that year. Perhaps it was their last holiday together.”

Walker looked at the picture. A nice family holiday photo, posing on the ski slopes. He recognized the Sterlings, Matt and Helen. They were imprinted on his mind. They were all there together as a family, maybe for the last time, father and mother, son and daughter. Peter and Irene. He remembered the names now. All smiles.

“Look closer at the boy,” Tanya said.

He had to stare at it for a while, but suddenly it was clear. Like turning on a light.

“My god, it’s him, Mathew Walton.” He had a sudden image of the boy in the photograph on Eleanor's desk.

“That’s Peter Sterling.”

“So where is he now? Wow, he’d be past forty. This has got to be what it’s about. Young Peter Sterling was part of Viktor’s grand plan. He was in a military academy. He could be anywhere in the forces. What if he’s commanding a nuclear submarine? Or worse.” He grabbed a hold of Tanya’s hand. “You need to find him. Talk to your friends. We have to track him down. What does it say in there about the children?”

“Not a lot. The popular story put out there said Matt Sterling was a man whose business was in trouble. He had a lot of government contracts and access to classified information. He sold it to the Russian’s and got caught. He killed his wife after a row when she found out, then killed himself.”

“That’s not the way it happened. They were both deep cover Russian spies.”

Tanya shrugged. “There’s a saying in the newspaper business - What it says is what it is.”

“So what happened to the kids, Peter and Irene?”

“They disappeared. Word is their mother, Helen, was a well connected socialite, her friends, who were also pushing the story that Helen Sterling was not involved and was a tragic victim in the whole affair, brought them in and adopted them. Their past life was washed away. Hence Peter Sterling became Mathew Walton.”

“And ended up in a photograph on Aunt Eleanor’s desk.”

“And the girl, Irene? Why no photograph of her on her desk?”

“She had one in her secret stash, but maybe Peter was the special one.”

“I’ll leave you to ponder that one.” Tanya closed the lid of the laptop. “Why don’t you tell me about these files.”

“Not a lot to tell. First thing Jake Tasker did when he became President was clean up everything from his time in the CIA, including the January files. But that was a joint FBI operation, and the FBI had their own files, which they refused to destroy. So Tasker did the next best thing. He had them all classified highest security level and had them placed with NSA.”

“Didn’t the FBI keep their own copies?”

“Even if they did, their contents had no credibility because officially they didn’t exist.”

“So what was the big deal about these files?”

“Because the truth could embarrass the President.”

“What truth? What is in there?”

Walker shrugged. “The biggest deep cover spies in the Cold War era, at a time when he was in charge. And they screwed up, which includes me. The Sterlings committed suicide. They had the potential to give up so much information about Russian illegals in the US, about their own personal network, but in the end we got nothing.”

“Is that a big problem?”

“It is, if you ask the next question.”

“What is that?”

“What if they’re still there?”

“My God, how old would they be?”

Walker flashed her a wide grin. “My age.”

“Sorry.” Tanya shrugged. “Is Peter Sterling part of that? Is that was this is all about?”

“Could be, but it’s actually bigger than that. It’s not so much an individual agents, but their networks. What if they’re still there?”

“You mean, our administration and political organizations could be infiltrated by Russian agents?”

“The conspiracy theorists have been saying it for years.”

“And if it’s true, and it’s President Tasker’s fault?”

“I’m not sure it’s his fault, but from a political perspective, he’s to blame. It certainly wouldn’t help his ratings.”

“So why didn’t he have the files destroyed?”

“That’s simple. The FBI wouldn’t let him.”

“So how come Ed Cooper had a copy?”

“Ed was a man of devious means. But the fact is, according to him, someone made a copy of the files recently. Ed did tell me something else.”

“Surprise me.”

“Up to the point, the files were classified and locked away in an NSA dungeon, the FBI were keeping them up to date.”

“The Sterlings’ files? What was there to keep up to date?”

“Well, according to Ed, they had become the Jake Tasker files.”

Tanya shook her head. “Scary stuff. But it does explain something.”

“What’s that?”

“I found out how they found you on your Greek island. It's in there. Everything, you Nikki, Narkos. You said someone stole those files. Maybe they were looking for you.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly. I also found something else, or should I say someone else.”

“Who?” Walker asked the question, though his gut told him he knew the answer.

Tanya turned the laptop for Walker to see it. It was a photograph taken when she was in Afghanistan.

Tanya smiled.

“Me.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

“Are you due any vacation time?”

Tanya gave him a quizzical look. “I’m freelance. I take what time off I want. Why?”

“Because I need you to take a trip, far away from here, and you need to stay away until this is all over.”

Walker couldn’t get it out of his head. Why did it have to be about him? Why couldn’t it just be about Tasker? Why did his family have to be involved? But he knew the answer to that. It was called leverage.

“You have to leave.”

Tanya shook her head. “No way. I’m not going anywhere. I’m a reporter, an investigative reporter and I’m going to hunt down this story.”

“Listen to me. These are dangerous, ruthless people. They have already killed three people I came into contact with. I will not let the same thing happen to you. They already have Nikki.”

“I know that, which is why I’m not leaving. I’ve dealt with ruthless people before. Being in Afghanistan is no picnic. I know how to look out for myself. Besides, you need me.”

“I don’t doubt that, but these people.”

She cut him off with a smile of satisfaction on her face. “I’ll go to Aunt Sarah’s house.”

“Who?”

“Mum’s sister Sarah. She left me her place when she died. It’s a lovely old house, on a bird sanctuary, out on Chesapeake Bay.”

“But—”

“I’m done talking.”

She gave him the look again. Walker saw something there he recognized. Maybe she didn’t inherit everything from her Mom.

“Have you seen Oscar?” Tanya said, changing the subject.

“Oscar?”

Tanya smiled. “My cat. He’s an Abyssinian and fiercely independent. He has a habit of staying out all night. I suspect he has a girlfriend. I’ll talk to Alice. She usually keeps an eye on him when I’m away.”

“Maybe you should take him with you?”

“No, he hates it, doesn't like to be away from his own territory. He has his cat flap so he can come in and out as he pleases. I leave food out for him. He seems to get on fine. Alice usually checks in on him when I’m away. She has a key.”

“You should talk to Alice. I think maybe you should tell her to go and stay with friends for a few days.”

“It’s that bad?”

“It’s that bad.”

“I’ll call her when she gets off shift.”

The light was fading as they headed east on route 50. Tanya drove a battered green VW. Walker had left Ed Cooper’s truck parked up a few blocks from Tanya’s place. He sat beside her, keeping his eye on the road behind them.

They headed out past Annapolis and across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, then followed the 50 south. The snow was already falling heavily by the time Tanya eventually turned off and headed back through the trees, in towards the bay.

The Morton Wildlife Trust was an area of swamp, clinging to the Chesapeake shoreline for a stretch of about ten miles. A few small bays and narrow inlets poked into the thick forest. Occasional houses were dotted at sparse intervals, usually set back from the road.

Aunt Sarah’s place stood out on a clear headland, jutting out into a small inlet running out to the main bay. A dirt track cut off the main road and ran all the way up to the house.

Tanya swung in and stopped. She climbed out of the car and stood looking up at the house.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

Walker got out and stood beside her. For the moment, the snowfall had eased, and a hole in the clouds had allowed the moonlight to cast a silver glow across its wooden paneled facade. It looked a complete weather beaten wreck.

Its thick snow dolloped roof dipped alarmingly in the middle, and up close, the wooden wall panels were cracked and covered in partially frozen, furry green mould. Walker was convinced the place leaked like a rusty bucket. A wooden dock on the other side of the track creaked gently on the tidal pull of the bay. It looked as if the next storm would carry it away.

“Well, what do you think?” Tanya was still beaming.

“I’ll admit it has a certain rustic charm.”

“Come inside, you’ll love it.”

Tanya unlocked the door and stepped inside. Walker followed her in. He expected a damp musty wreck, instead it was surprisingly dry and fresh smelling, and incredibly neat.

Tanya saw his face and smiled. “I keep the outside looking the way it is because I like it that way. But the roof doesn’t leak and I have a local handyman and a cleaner to keep an eye on things. I have a telephone line and broadband internet, so I can work out here without a problem.”

“I’m impressed.”

“It’s my bolt hole, where I come when I want to get away from the world.”

“Well, you need to stay away from the world now.”

“Give me your phone.” Tanya held out a hand.

Walker handed it over, and Tanya tapped away at the screen.

“There’s no cell coverage out here, but you can connect to my Wi-Fi and get on the Internet.” She handed him back his phone. “Checkout out your Messenger. There’s a link to a file on there, it’s a summary of all the background I’ve put together so far.”

Walker took it back. “This thing’s a burner, but what about your phone? They could track you.”

Tanya smiled. “I already told you I have some impressive friends. I promise you, no one is tracking my phone.”

“What about this house? Can someone track you here?”

Tanya shook her head.

“Another friend?”

“The records are still in my Aunt’s name. Only Alice knows about this place.”

“Why am I not surprised. Don’t forget you have to call her.”

“I will but she’s on shift at the moment. I’ll call her in the morning. Are you hungry?”

“You have food as well?”

“I keep the freezer well stocked. Do you fancy steak?”

“Now I’m really impressed.”

Tanya handed him a cold beer from the fridge.

“I’m going to do some more research while the steaks defrost.”

“Don’t you have a microwave?”

“Out.”

She kicked him out of the kitchen. Walker wandered outside and on to the dock. The wooden planks creaked underfoot as he walked out to the end. He sat on a round wooden support pile, driven down into the lakebed. The waves gliding in from the bay lapped gently at his dangling feet.

Where was he going to go next? Dimitri was dead, Eleanor was dead, and Ed Cooper. Viktor, and whoever his mysterious partner was, had brought him all the way out here, first taking Nikki, then dropping breadcrumbs along the way to reel him in, which he had done his best to resist.

Eleanor had a picture of Peter Sterling on her desk. But it was a picture from thirty years ago. Whoever had killed her had presumably taken it. Why? It had to be because it was an important part of the puzzle. Was Peter Stirling Viktor’s partner in all this?

But if that was what it was all about, why had she left the photographs there for him to find? Or was she just hiding them away?

But she had called him. Presumably to reveal something. Was it Peter Sterling? He had a bizarre thought. Did she want him to save him?

He took out his phone. Tanya was right, there was no cellphone service, but the Wi-Fi signal was strong, even out here on the dock. He clicked on the link to the file she had created.

The first part was everything she had gathered on the Sterlings. It was a story he was familiar with.

CHAPTER FIFTY

The rain fell in a slow steady drizzle, casting a sombre spell across the tiny graveyard, a mood met by the slab grey sky and the face of the priest as he uttered the final eulogy.

His face was wet, his spectacles steamed up. He waited patiently for each family member to step up and pay their respects. The small family crowded around the tiny grave, cut into the soft earth. The mother supported by her husband. Her face awash with tears. Another child stood bewildered between the grandparents.

The man watched from the roadside. His name was Yuri Popov, a trade attaché from the Russian Embassy in Washington D.C. He waited until they had moved away and climbed into their black funeral cortege and drove off. Then for the gravedigger, who moved in quickly, shoveling back the damp earth, leaving a tiny mound before the slim granite headstone, before he scurried off, glad to be out of the rain.

Popov approached the gravestone.

Mathew Sterling. Beloved son, gone before his smile could awaken the world.

The writer had fancied himself or herself, there was no name on the report, only a number, as something of a storyteller, embellishing the narrative with his or her own sense of drama. Walker guessed it was to set a mood for the rest of the more clinical, fact driven report, or was it just to relieve the boredom.

Mathew Sterling was only a week old when he died. He had been born two months premature. His lungs were underdeveloped. Today, he would have been kept in intensive care incubation until his lungs were developed enough for him to continue his growth unassisted. But in 1950, Mathew was left to himself with his tenuous grip on to life until he could cling on no longer.

A nurse in the hospital in Baltimore had informed her handler. Popov had received the message and had appeared at the graveyard to confirm it. It was well known amongst his close circle that he liked to arrive for the funeral, to see the family clustered around the grave in their grief, and those standing back. He liked to see their faces, how they looked at each other, or in some case didn’t. Yuri Popov was very meticulous with the legends he created. Each tiny detail added to the credibility, the completeness, and the longevity of the covert operator who many years later would inhabit it, and wear it like a second skin.

A week later, department S, the KGB department responsible for illegals, applied via a cut-out in Fairfax Virginia, for a birth certificate for the new born Mathew Sterling. At the same time, Popov visited the local church where the death was registered, and the corresponding page was torn out of the registry. Crude but effective. As there was no central database for births and deaths at that time, the birth certificate was issued and Department S filed it away.

A year later, Popov drove north to Toronto, Canada, and repeated the process. A six-month-old girl had died from the measles. Her name was Helen Fairfax.

Walker found himself slipping into the dramatic story narrative the report writer had opened up with. Yuri Popov was excited. He had a pair. He went through the same process and matched the newly created birth certificate of Helen Fairfax with that of Mathew Sterling and the two were stored away to await their resurrection. Twenty five years later, Pyotr Rostov became Mathew Sterling and Irena Karosova became his wife, Helen.

At the farm, Walker had learned about KGB officers having the macabre job of strolling around cemeteries looking at graves for likely candidates for the illegals program, a process known as tomb-stoning.

He opened up Skype and tapped in the latest number that Vasili had given him. By some miracle, he answered.

“Where are you?”

“Let’s just say I’m traveling. Things were getting a little too hot around Viktor.”

He let Vasili bend his ear, which Vasili was happy to do. He could hear him swearing. Russian is a great language for cursing in, and Vasili was using it to its poetic best, cursing one man - Viktor Polyakov.

“Yeah, well, speaking of that.”

Walker quickly brought him up to date. But he held back the part where they tried to kill him until last.

“You mean?”

“It seems like Viktor is getting his way.”

Vasili began swearing again.

“You know what this means. What it means to Nikki.”

“I know.”

“If they don’t need you anymore, they don’t need her.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“You are well aware?” Vasili spaced out the words to emphasize his Russian sarcasm.

But Walker didn’t need sarcasm. He had all the anger he needed to drive him on. “Listen to me, you old bastard. If she is to stand any chance at all, we need something to bargain with. There must be something in all this that we can use.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean, maybe? If you’ve got something, tell me.”

“Your little story about Peter Sterling, it might just fit in with what I heard,”

“What? Tell me.”

“I told you that Dimitri was the one who knew all Viktor’s secrets. Well, there was one other.”

Walker could sense the smile on the old bastard’s face, but he didn’t bite.

“For many years, Viktor had a mistress. Olga Sukova, late of the Bolshoi Ballet. Viktor became her sponsor, and everything that entailed. But it seems that Viktor didn’t always treat her that well, and at times she took comfort from a friend.”

“A friend?”

“A certain handsome devil by the name of Dimitri Petrovski. Well, he was back then.”

“Did Viktor not find out?”

“If he had, they would have both been dead a long time ago. Anyway, twenty five years ago Olga promised to take on the ballet world, then she broke an ankle and Viktor ditched her and moved on. He gave her a generous payoff, and she kept her mouth shut.”

“I’m hoping you’re gonna tell me — until now.”

“It seems our dear Olga still held a candle for Dimitri, and when she recently found out that Viktor had had him killed.”

“A fact that you no doubt provided her with.”

“Word on an old friend. Shared grief. Anyway, we took coffee and an excellent Cognac and she reminisced.”

“Vasili, I’m freezing to death out here. What did she tell you?”

“She was not happy. She decided it was time to give up some of her own secrets. It seems that back in the day, Viktor used to talk in bed when he was drunk. Which, in Viktor’s case, was quite often. He was still grief stricken after the loss of his major assets in the United States. And she was not happy with him because he had just fired Dimitri. That night, she dug a little deeper. Got him talking a little more. The interesting thing was, he was talking about himself. At first, she thought he was justifying something. Was it because he had fired Dimitri? But she knew the old bastard would lose no sleep over that. It took her a while to identify what was eating at him — It was guilt.”

Walker's heart seemed to skip a beat. “I knew it. It was Viktor who betrayed the Sterlings, his beloved January.”

It had just been something that was floating around in his head when he had first spoken to Eleanor. But now he was sure.

Vasili laughed on the end of the phone. “It gets better. Olga fed his guilt, along with more vodka. Eventually he had to justify the guilt which was tearing at him from the inside.”

“Wasn’t that his ulcers?” Walker had to relieve the tension. It seemed like Vasili would take all night to tell it. He wanted to reach down the phone and rip the answers out of Vasili's throat.

“Do you want to hear this?”

“Just tell me.”

“It seems Viktor had another secret. Another deep cover agent, one even deeper than January, a real sleeper who would not wake up for the next thirty years.”

“Rip van Winkle?” The name of the old fairy tale came out, but Walker’s head was somewhere else.

“What?”

Walker was no longer listening. His eyes were closed. He took a deep, chilled breath. Was that it? Was this the piece of the puzzle he’d been searching for?

“It’s him.” He finally spoke into the phone. “Peter Stirling. He is the key to all this. Viktor has been manipulating him into place all these years.”

“It seems ambitious, even for Viktor. But on the other hand, it sounds just like something the devious son of a bitch would dream up.”

“But where is he? And why am I involved in this?”

“Well, if Viktor is running true to form, and the pressure is on, he likes to be close to the action, and according to my singing sparrows, his private jet landed at Ronald Reagan International this evening. He is currently taking rest and refreshments in a suite in the Hay-Adams Hotel. I would put my money on Peter Sterling being right there in Washington D.C.”

“Why do they want me here?”

He could hear Vasili breathing at the end of the line.

“Maybe Peter wants payback. He blames you for the death of his parents. Maybe he’s out there and he wants more than revenge. Maybe he wants to kill you himself.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

“How do you like your steak?”

Tanya stood in the kitchen. Two thick sirloin steaks were laid out on a plate. After what Vasili had revealed, he wasn’t sure if he was hungry.

“You know, I always thought that you would be vegan, or something like that.”

“Trust me, I love red meat.”

Walker opened the door to the refrigerator and took out a beer.

“You want one?”

Tanya lifted her bottle. “I’m good.”

The aroma of the grilling steaks was wonderful. Tanya served them up with a tossed green salad of baby spinach and roquette, with small sweet vine tomatoes, along with an excellent Pinot Noir to wash it down. Any thoughts about not being hungry faded away with the first bite.

“This steak is better than Vasili serves back in St. Petersburg. And I thought that was the best I’d tasted.”

“My handyman gets them for me, along with a few other bits and pieces.”

Walker gave her a look and she rapidly changed the subject.

“Would that Vasili be Nikki’s grandfather?”

Walker nodded as he chewed his way through a mouthful of prime beef.

“I just spoke to him. He’s been chasing down things on his end. He’s been digging into Viktor Polyakov’s background.”

“Did he find anything?”

Walker smiled. “You might say so.” Walker took a large gulp of his Pinot, then told her Vasili’s story.

Tanya looked thoughtful, but she kept the thoughts to herself.

“That could be the link we’re looking for.” Walker said. “Peter Sterling, he’s the key to all this.”

Tanya had a troubled look on her face.

“What’s the matter?”

“I was saving it until after we’ve eaten.”

“Have you found something?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it.”

“I thought things were going too well.”

“One of the dangers of being an investigative journalist, as you dig for more evidence to supplement your story, you sometimes discover facts that pour cold water all over your nicely polished theory.”

“You mean our theory.”

Her laptop was open on the kitchen counter.

“Whatever. I did some digging and found this reference to Mathew Walton in the local newspaper.”

She got up and tapped at the keyboard, then turned the laptop around so he could see it. She had pulled up a newspaper article on to the screen. He could read the headline.

‘Tragic young academy cadet commits suicide.’

“Suicide?”

Apparently Mathew Walton, Peter Sterling, hung himself in the academy bathroom, on the one year anniversary of his parents’ death. Poor Peter never got older than that boy in the photograph. Maybe that was why Eleanor kept his photo on her desk.

Shit.

* * *

“Why do I get the feeling that every time we move one step forward, we take five steps back. After everything we have discovered, it feels like we’re right back at the beginning.”

“Welcome to the world of investigative journalism. Trust me, it can get a lot worse than this.”

“Excuse me if it doesn’t feel like that right now.”

“We have to be careful to not throw away the good stuff we have.”

“Do you know what that is? I’m beginning to doubt everything I thought I knew.”

“That’s why we have to start with what we really know, and we dig from there. This has to be about something relevant to now. Maybe Eleanor was haunted by the boy who committed suicide and kept his photo on her desk thirty years later. But someone killed her and removed it — fact. It has to be relevant. From everything you have found out so far, this Viktor Polyakov did it, or ordered it — speculation, but with a high level of probability. Even more relevance.”

“But why? And why now? And what has that to do with me?”

“We just have to pick up the pieces and keep digging. At least we have somewhere to start.”

“Which is where, exactly?”

“A professional investigator doesn’t give up, even if what they eventually discover isn’t what they thought it would be. Sometimes the truth is still in there, buried away. You have to keep looking until you find it, and when you do, it can be far more revealing than any theory you had made up in your mind.”

“Are you telling me you’ve got something else?”

“Maybe.”

“Another theory?”

“As my old boss used to say — Wasn’t that what Einstein started out with.”

“Maybe we should get your old boss helping us.”

“Unfortunately, he’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tanya smiled. “Though I do sometimes catch him whispering in my ear, or sitting on the other side of my desk shaking his head.”

“And what is he doing now?”

Tanya gave him a comic grimace.

“Out.” She pointed at the door. “I need to do what I was trained to do. I need to go back to the beginning, or in this case the end - Peter Stirling’s end.”

* * *

Tanya had been tapping away at her laptop for the past hour. Walker had moved on to the bourbon. Tanya had not been happy, but he had picked up the bottle and glass and wandered out onto the deck. It was the only way his mind could stay away from where he did not want to go. It seemed he was further away than ever from working out what this was all about. And Nikki was still out there, beyond the fog. At least, he hoped and prayed she was.

But he knew the answer was not at the bottom of the bottle, so he moved back inside and put on Tanya’s fancy coffee machine.

“Do you want some coffee?”

Tanya looked up and gave him a tired nod. He poured her a cup from the pot.

“Maybe you should give it a rest.”

“In a while.”

“Have you found anything?”

“I looked back at some of the other photos that Eleanor kept. Especially this one.”

Back in her apartment, she had scanned all the photos onto her laptop. She pulled up the one with the two boys and the girl.

“I took a good look at Peter’s friend in this photo. I did the same checking on him.”

“Your friend from the NSA. He must owe you big time. Or?”

“Don’t go there. Let’s just say I’m beginning to run out of favors.”

She tapped away on her keyboard.

“His name is Bradley Jordan. There’s not a lot about him. He was brought up in a single parent family, no sign of the father. Seems he and Peter bonded on a similar tragedy. Peter had lost both his parents, Bradley had recently lost his mother.”

“Wow.”

“Two boys in a lonely place, struck by a similar tragedy. Not surprising they became friends.”

“But you’re going to tell me there’s more to this.”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. But after the record of him at the Academy with Peter Sterling, he disappears.”

“You mean he drops under the radar.”

“I mean he disappears off the face of the earth.”

* * *

It was another hour before she looked up from her screen. She still looked tired, but this time, she was smiling.

“Have you tracked him down?”

“I think so. Do you want me to tell you a story?”

“Am I going to like it?”

“I hope so.”

Walker sat down at the table opposite her, anticipation churning in his gut.

Tanya looked at him. “I won’t start with once upon a time, but here goes. Bradley Jordan grew up in a single parent family. His mother never acknowledged who the father was.”

“But you're going to tell me it’s all in those files.”

“In my experience, the FBI like to be thorough.”

“In your experience?”

“I have it on good authority they have a very detailed file on me.”

“Let's not go there. Tell me about Peter Sterling’s friend. And why would Viktor be interested in him?”

“Maybe it depends on who the father is. Back then, we’re talking the early 90s, a young senator was making waves. The President appointed him Secretary of State. There were those who said he was too young, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. He was in the running for the Presidential nomination until a scandal ruined his chances. It seems he came clean a day before the news was about to break. He had an illegitimate child. A son.”

“Bradley Jordan?”

“You got it. It turns out, Patricia Jordan, Bradley Jordan’s mother, before her child was born, was his PA.”

“So what happened?”

“The Secretary of State stood down. Did the decent thing. He had stayed out of his son’s life, had no communication with him, but he had always supported him financially. He always said, the child’s mother agreed with his actions. When he found out she had died he stepped up to take him in.”

“The day after he found out the press we’re about to release the whole story.”

“Whatever, he stepped up, acknowledged his son, and took him into his family. He resigned his position, stepped out of the limelight, and became the political power broker he is today.”

“So who is he?”

“Some call him the most powerful man in Washington. Former Secretary of State, Bryce Colbert.”

“You mean, his son is —”

“Yes, America’s golden boy, Brad Colbert.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

She parked her car and crossed the street. The townhouse was on a leafy avenue, in a sort after part of town. The prices of properties around here had shot up in the past few years. Not that that mattered to the occupants.

She rang the doorbell and waited.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, then the door opened and Brad Colbert stood there, a look of surprise or was it shock on his face. Brad quickly replaced it with a smile.

“Julia, how lovely to see you.”

Julia O’Connell smiled back. “Nice to see you, Brad. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” He stepped back and allowed her to step inside. “Come on in.” Brad Colbert led the way into the living room. There was no one else inside.

“Is Jennifer around?”

“She had to go out, but she should be back any time. Did you want to speak to her?”

Julia smiled. “No Brad. I wanted to speak to you.”

“Okay. Can I get you a drink?”

Julia shook her head. “No thanks, I won't take up a lot of your time.”

“Look, Julia, I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to speak to you since the funeral, but life has been crazy.”

Julia smiled again. “I can imagine.”

“I did want to talk about your father. I guess I was trying to find the right time. You know the President has asked me to take over from him.”

“I’m sure you'll do a great job. In a way, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I thought maybe you could help me.”

“What can I do. Anything just tell me.”

“My father never had an autopsy. Not a real one. The cause of death was given as a myocardial infarction. Which is true, but there was no underlying cause.”

“How do you know that?”

“I had my lawyers get a copy of the medical examiner’s report and acquired a blood sample. I sent it to an independent lab.”

“Julia, is that a good idea. George is gone, shouldn't you accept that and move on?”

“I already had the tox screen back. There was a high level of potassium in his blood. That could cause a heart attack.”

“Couldn't that happen normally?”

“True, but its presence could also indicate a cause for his heart attack. My father had his annual medical exam only a week before he died. Everything was perfect.”

“Julia, do you really want to do this?”

“I’ve been asking myself why someone might want to kill him.”

“Julia, listen to what you're saying.”

“Everyone loved Dad, even his fellow politicians loved him, because he was a threat to no one. Until recently.”

“Julia, what are you saying?”

“My father was going to seek the nomination at the national convention. Tasker has been a disaster. My father was going to step up. Now suddenly he's gone, and you, the war hero, step in.”

“Julia.”

Julia held up a hand. “I’ve tried to look at this from every angle. But I always come to the same conclusion. The person who benefited most from my father’s death - is you.”

Brad Colbert shook his head. “Julia, please.”

“Tasker is less threatened by you. In fact, you can help his cause. Get him his second term. I hear what they’re are saying out there. You're not ready yet but a term in the right hand seat and the Presidency will be yours for the taking.”

“Julia, I didn't ask for this. Believe me, I would give anything to have your father back here. I always felt we were in safe hands when he was around.”

“So you won't object if I push for this case to be reopened. For a full autopsy to be carried out.”

Brad shook his head. “I won't object. In fact, I’ll help you.”

“Good, so let’s get this matter resolved. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

Brad Colbert stood in the doorway as Julia O’Connell walked away. She got in her car and drove off just as Jennifer appeared out of the shadows.

“Who was that, darling?”

“Julia O’Connell. She wanted to talk to me.”

“You should have asked her to stay. I haven’t spoken to her since the funeral.”

“Well, that’s the problem.”

Brad led his wife inside and told her the story.

“Why would someone do that?” She said when he was finished.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. She’s still grieving.”

“Well, you need to focus on your new job. Leave this to me, I'll speak to Julia.”

“Just forget it. I’ll ask Bob to speak to her,” he said, referring to his newly appointed Chief of Staff.

“I’m sure Bob has lots of the things to worry about. I told you, I’ll speak to Julia. Don't worry about it.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “That's assuming you don’t have any secrets you haven't been telling me about.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Walker stood out on the end of the dock, a knitted hat pulled down over his ears, and his ski jacket zipped up against the bite of the icy wind wafting in across the bay. Tanya had said she was exhausted and had gone to bed. He wasn’t surprised, she’d had a hell of a twenty four hours. She had hardly stopped since he had arrived, a bleeding mess at her door. He should have been exhausted himself. In reality, his body was, but his mind was wide awake.

It was there again. After the euphoria of discovery, the harsh reality of truth. So Bradley Colbert knew Peter Sterling when they were young — so what?

Coincidence?

He didn’t like coincidences. But it was more than that. His gut was crying out to him that there was more to it. What was it that Tanya had said? You have to start with what you know, and build from there.

Dimitri had linked him to the Sterlings, January, and through them to Viktor. Whatever that link was about, it was worth killing Dimitri, Eleanor, and Ed Cooper, and latterly it seemed, him. But why?

Vasili had told him Viktor had a deep cover sleeper spy. That fit in with what he had discussed with Tanya earlier, the remnants of January’s network still existing and embedded within the government. But where did Bradley Colbert fit into it? His mother was American, so was his father, they were a million miles away from being Russian spies.

He stared out into the mist floating above the water. As if the foggy tendrils would part and show him the answer. It was all there he knew it. He thought he had the key with Peter Sterling, but Tanya had blown away that theory. Now he had another thread to this, Brad Colbert. But he still felt as if he was back to just floating pieces. He needed to connect them. He needed a different perspective. He had to get inside Viktor’s head.

He pulled out his phone and connected to the link Tanya had given him. All the photographs were there. He flicked through until he came to the one with the two boys and the girl. The two boys, one who would not get any older, the other about to move onto great things. He held up the photo at arm’s length. The boys looked alike, somewhat. He tried to imagine how they felt. Two boys bond, a friendship borne out of shared grief.

But which one died?

It was a thought that came out of nowhere.

“You could freeze to death out here.”

Walker turned around. His mind was still reeling from the thought he had just had. Tanya was standing on the end of the dock wrapped up in a long coat, with a bright colored woolen scarf around her neck, and a matching beanie pulled down on her head. Her finger tips protruded from a pair of gloves with the tips cut off. She drew on the cigarette she was holding and blew out the misty plume into the chill night air.

“I thought you’d gone to bed?”

“I did, but I couldn’t sleep.”

“If you’re interested. I just had a crazy idea.”

“Exhaustion and alcohol are a dangerous combination.”

“I know, but sometimes it works.”

“So tell me your crazy idea.”

“I say crazy, but knowing Viktor, maybe not so crazy.” He walked down the dock towards her, his hands thrust in his pockets, his mind still trying to grapple with the thought he had just had. “I keep saying we have to get in Viktor’s head. He’s put thirty years of effort into this. It has to be something big.”

“Is Viktor manipulating Bryce Colbert?”

“Colbert gave up his spectacular career to acknowledge his son. That’s hardly manipulation.”

Walker let the ideas tumble through his head. They were there again, the floating pieces, and they were floating away. He mentally grabbed a hold of the one he had just had. He had to pursue it now, while he still believed it.

“So let me try this one on you. What if it wasn't Peter Sterling who was distraught at the death of his parents and committed suicide, but young Brad, distraught at losing the only parent he ever had, his mother. What if Viktor did a switch?”

“You did say crazy idea, I’ll give you that.”

“But think about it. Peter Sterling’s friend commits suicide, and suddenly Peter is thrust into a new life. A covert life.”

“Isn’t it all a little coincidental, such a major thing from a random tragic event?”

“Random. You think so? You don’t plan something like this, something that will take thirty years to mature, in fine detail. You have a grand plan, a goal, but you take opportunities along the way. You have to grab them as they arise and act. Get Peter into the right places, meeting the right people. At the Academy, Peter had a friend, and his friend had a secret. His father was someone very important.”

“But did he know that? I thought his father had stayed out of his life.”

“Maybe his mother had given him enough to keep the boy happy with his absence. His father was out there saving the world. You know the thing.”

Tanya took a long draw on her cigarette and looked directly at her father. “Yes, I know the thing.”

Walker gave her a tight grimace and moved on.

“Maybe they shared their secrets, two boys with secret fathers. Maybe Peter told his Uncle Viktor, or at least Aunt Eleanor. You said it was all a bit coincidental, but nothing with Viktor is coincidental.

“What if Viktor did some digging and discovered the truth about Bradley Jordan, and saw an opportunity. If it was young Brad who died and not Peter, you can bet Viktor had a hand in it, and with his resources, anything was possible. You saw the picture, the two boys looked reasonably alike.”

“What are you saying?”

“Brad was sixteen. He had never met his father. Peter was sixteen, he is told his father was a spy who killed his mother then himself. One boy hangs himself. One is taken away to a new life.” He smiled at her. “But which was which?”

“You mean?”

“Look at them. They could even be brothers. And let’s face it, Bryce Colbert had never even seen his son. The only contact he had between himself and the boy’s mother were the checks he wrote every month.”

“But if Viktor was planning this, how did he persuade Bryce Colbert to acknowledge his son after all these years. That’s all a bit too much to orchestrate.”

“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that was Bryce Colbert’s reaction to Viktor trying to blackmail him. Maybe that was how this all started. And when Colbert rejected it and announced his son to the world, Viktor saw an opportunity. He had to move fast. He had to react.

“Let me give you two scenarios.

“The first Peter: His friend comes to him one day. He can see the joy in his face, bursting to tell him whatever it is that is making him so happy. He had been to the principal’s office. His dream was about to come true. His father was coming to get him.

“That night, Peter sits in his room at the window alone. Tomorrow, his friend was leaving. He would probably never see him again. No one was coming for him. His parents were gone. He had no choice. He had to go to them. The next morning he is found hanging in the students’ bathroom.”

“That’s the way the evidence tells it.”

“That’s the one we’re meant to believe, but let’s speculate on an alternative.

“Brad gets a telephone call. There have been complications. It was all a mistake. His father is not coming. Brad is distraught. Viktor gives him a helping hand, and the next day he is found hanging in the bathroom.”

“And presumably when Viktor steps in to recruit Peter.”

“Peter gets a visitor the next day, maybe Aunt Eleanor, or even Uncle Viktor himself. They tell him a story about his parents, how they gave their lives so that he, their son, could continue with their plan.

“Peter is ripe for recruiting — young, impressionable, heartbroken at the loss of his best friend. Now is the time. Viktor has a plan, and Peter has a vital role to play. He has to take it forward. Like his parents, he has to go undercover. He has to reach the goal his parents were striving for. The goal they had given their lives for.”

“But how would Viktor switch identities?”

“It was the main vacation. Students had gone home to their families, except Peter and Brad didn’t, they stayed behind.”

“But the Military Academy would have known who committed suicide.”

“Who’s to say that Viktor didn’t have his fingers in there. As he always did, carrot and stick. He threatens the principal with negligence. This is the former Secretary of State’s son, he would be sued, the courts would take everything he had, including his beloved school. Or he could take a generous donation, one that would set up his school for life. All he had to do was change a few details, like what was the boy’s name. The former Secretary of State was coming for his son. He must not be disappointed. When he arrived, his son was waiting for him and Peter Sterling went off to a new life. According to what I could find, the Academy Principal died a year later in a tragic car accident. All loose ends neatly tied off.”

“But how could Peter pull it off? He was hardly more than a kid.”

“Think about it. He didn’t have to do anything. He’s nervous, even scared, but his father would think that normal. He doesn’t know this boy. All Peter had to do was to become Bryce Colbert’s son - Brad Colbert. Viktor would guide him further down the line.”

“Wow, so you’re saying. . .”

Walker smiled. “Brad Colbert is really Peter Sterling.”

“My God, the soon to be Vice President of the United States, America’s golden boy, the new commander-in-chief in waiting, is a deep cover Russian agent.”

Walker nodded his head. “That’s what I’m saying.” He gazed out into the mist, still trying to take it all in. All the pieces now fit neatly together. But he still could hardly believe what he saw.

“Wow Viktor, that’s a hell of a grand plan.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

“How do you like your eggs?”

Walker was sitting by the kitchen window. The clouds had receded for the moment, allowing the sun to break through, streaking the bay with slashes of gold and giving a pristine glow to the snow white landscape. As if in that particular world, all was well.

He looked across at Tanya. She was giving him an inquisitive look.

“Eggs?”

“What?” For a moment, his mind wouldn’t let go. “Oh Yeah, on toast, easy over.”

“Yes sir,” Tanya gave him a stiff bow of her head. “I’ll have that order coming right up.”

Walker grinned. “Or whatever.”

The easy over eggs on wheat bread toast were perfect.

“You could always get a job as a short order cook.”

“You mean if things don’t pan out.”

He concentrated on his eggs. They really were good.

When they had finished breakfast, Tanya changed his dressing.

“It’s looking good. How does it feel?”

“Better.”

He yelped as she dabbed the wound with antiseptic. Tanya smiled as she bound it up.

“I need to go out, see someone.”

“You should be in bed. Alice said at least another twenty-four hours.”

“Do I have to remind you that all we have at the moment is a bunch of supposition, one of your well polished theories. But we have no proof. I need to see someone who can help us take the next step.”

“Can’t you do it on the phone.”

“Do you think I can make a casual phone call about this? I need to see this person face to face. And even then he’ll probably think I’m crazy.”

“He might not be wrong about that.”

“I need you to keep on digging. We have to find something that gives us even the smallest item of proof. We still don’t have the full story.”

Tanya looked at him over the top of her coffee mug. “I’ve been thinking about that, the full story. I’m still not sure I believe it. But if I do, then it would seem like more that just a tragic coincidence, that Brad Colbert is about to step into the vacant Vice President’s position.”

Walker thought about that for a moment, but of course, she was right. “Viktor created the vacancy.”

Tanya shook her head. “I still don’t believe what I’m saying. A Russian, government sponsored I’m not sure, assassinates the Vice President of the United States to get his own deep cover spy into his place. I’m a journalist, not a thriller author. I’m used to having at least two independent sources to corroborate anything I write.”

He looked across at her and smiled, because he was now convinced. “Believe it.”

But she wasn’t finished. “Do you think Bryce Colbert knows?”

“You mean is he in on this?”

“You never know. Ambition is a powerful thing. Especially political ambition.”

“Either way, I intend to painfully disappoint him.”

“Let’s hope you can do that without putting a bullet in his head.”

Walker flashed his gritted teeth in a mock grimace. “So, are you going to help me with that?”

Tanya lit a cigarette and topped up her coffee mug. “I’m a journalist. We try to understand the complete story, the big picture. If we go back to the beginning, we have what appears to be a tragic murder, suicide. But why? Viktor steps up and says. I have this grand plan to destroy the United States. You just need to commit suicide to get it started. I don’t buy that. As my old boss used to ask. What’s the compelling reason?”

“And you have one?”

“First, we have to realize that the Sterlings, taking their lives, was not the beginning of the story, it was the end of it for them.

“I’ve been digging around, finding everything I could about them. Someone took a decent look into their backgrounds, before they became the Sterlings, back when they were Major Pyotr Ivanovich Rostov and Lieutenant Irena Karosova. There’s a file on them.”

“I’m sure you’re about to amaze me. What did you find?”

“What do you expect from two people who gave up their whole lives dedicated to a cause? Living a secret life for almost twenty years, and in the end, willing to sacrifice themselves rather than be arrested. They were true believers. And we were the enemy.”

“And you don’t believe the Sterlings committed suicide for Viktor, for his grand plan?”

Tanya shook her head. “That doesn’t sit right for me. From what I have found out about them, they were dedicated to mother Russia, not to Viktor. Dedicated to its cause, worldwide communism. But think about it. Their world is falling apart, their dream is crumbling. They receive a message, possibly directly from Viktor. Their identities have been compromised. Their life here was over.”

“So why didn’t they run?”

“They were being watched? I’ve been looking at the timing.”

“You are going to amaze me.”

“There’s a complete timeline in the file. The Sterlings had surveillance on them for twenty four hours before you went in.”

“According to Ed Cooper, they knew we were coming. But they chose to stay.”

“They were keeping you focused on them. According to the file, the children disappeared eight hours before the surveillance started. They were not heard from again. That is until now. It seems as if the Sterlings were giving them time to get away.”

Walker felt a little satisfaction inside. It completed the picture that he had of them in his head. “In the end, it wasn’t about Mother Russia. It was about family.”

“Think about it. If the Sterlings were arrested, they would face a public trial and a lengthy stay in prison. Normally they would expect some exchange deal to be negotiated, but with the chaos going on back at home at that time, it was not clear whether that would happen, or if it did, how long it would take.

“What would happen to the children while all that was going on? Would they be deported back to Russia, to a land they didn’t know, a language they didn’t speak, and would their parents be there? Probably not, at least not at first. They would have no one.”

“But technically they were US citizens.”

“Technically. But even if they stayed, what would happen to them? Remember, this country was still paranoid about communists, reds under the bed, and all that crap. The press would tear them to pieces, their friends, their neighbors would all turn against them. They would have to get new identities, but then what would they do? Their lives would have been torn apart.”

“So?”

“I believe their parents made the sacrifice for them. So their children could have a normal life. Yes, it was a new life, but from what we know they were with people they knew, people who cared about them.”

“For Peter Sterling it’s been anything but normal.”

“That’s because Viktor Polyakov stepped in and manipulated his life. I’m sure that his parents never wanted that for him.”

“But he had already manipulated them.”

* * *

Walker headed out in Tanya’s VW. He left her behind at the house to do more digging. She was still complaining that he should be staying in bed. He had reminded her that Nikki was still out there. It was below the belt and she didn’t deserve that, but maybe he needed the boost himself. A painful reminder that despite everything they thought they had, they still had nothing. He was no closer to finding Nikki.

Which left him with his own part in all this. Vasili had suggested it was about revenge. Was that really it? Was he just a sacrifice to the whim of Viktor’s greatest creation? A last act of personal revenge before Peter Sterling went on to complete his mission. The Vice President, Russia’s deepest cover agent, in line to become the next President of the United States.

So how was that going to pan out?

He tried to focus on the road. If he was going to blow this thing apart, he needed help. And it seemed there was only one man left who could do that.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

A light snow had begun to fall as Walker reached the meeting place. It was only the middle of the afternoon yet the sky was already dark with heavy snow clouds. Lloyd Donovan was wrapped up in a heavy greatcoat, with a scarf around his neck and a woolen hat pulled down over his ears. He was standing by the Washington Memorial. The floodlights were already on, illuminating the base of the towering marble obelisk, its upper reaches disappearing into the swirl of the snow.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a bar to meet in? I’m freezing my nuts off.”

“Sorry, the sun was shining when I left the message.”

“I thought you’d be long gone by now. Maybe literally.”

“You heard about Ed Cooper?”

“I did. I assumed you were involved.”

“Involved? I’m not sure what that means. Did I get him killed? Almost certainly. Someone had a go at me. I’d watch your back if I were you.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past twenty years? Robert, what the hell is going on?”

Walker leaned in closer. “Don, I’m going to tell you a story. You might think it’s a fairy story, maybe it is. But right now it’s all I’ve got.”

Donovan glanced around. “Why don’t we walk, before I freeze to death.”

Walker told his story while they walked. The wide, paved pedestrian area surrounding the monument was mostly deserted, the normal tourists no doubt kept away by the weather. Donovan made no comments until Walker came to his conclusion.

“Holy mother of fuck.” Donovan finally said, when he had finished. “You know you’re talking about Captain America, war hero, married to the smartest, most beautiful woman on the planet. The couple destined to save America.”

“Or destroy it. What can I say. This is what I’ve got.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me, because I don’t want to be anywhere near it. Just the hint that there is some truth in this, would get you a visit from the Secret Service, and they will put a bullet in your head for your trouble.”

“Somehow I thought that’s what you’d say. But do me a favor, for old times sake.”

“For old times sake?”

“Call me a sentimentalist.”

Donovan gave a shrug. “Okay, what do you want?”

“See if you can get a lead on this Ivan Kuriakov.” Walker tapped on his phone on a copy of the picture he had taken from the security camera a lifetime ago. “I’ve sent you a copy. He is here in the US.”

“You’re sure?”

“I already told you. He shot Dimitri Petrovski. I’m pretty sure he murdered Eleanor Birkhov.”

“Who?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re sitting in that bar.”

“Can we go there now?”

“We don’t have time. Trust me. Also, can you look into this military academy Brad Colbert attended? Bradley Jordan, as he was then. There was another student there at the same time, Mathew Walton. Apparently, they were friends. One committed suicide. If I’m right about this, it’s not clear which one lived and which one died. See what you can find out about it. And one other thing.”

“That’s three favors.”

Walker gave him a tight smile. “There’s a retirement home called Sunset Pines, in Virginia. There was a resident there, recently deceased, name of Eleanor Birkhov.”

Don smiled. “Ah.”

“Find out what you can about her.”

Donovan seemed to be considering it.

“Don, please, I need this. Nikki is still out there.”

Something seemed to stir inside his old boss. He looked across at Walker and nodded his head.

“Okay, I’m still not saying you’re not crazy. But consider this a parting gift. I'm leaving, putting in my papers. Julia and I are heading south and we won’t be coming back.”

Walked clapped a hand on Donovan’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Don. But I have one thing for you, especially given your special relationship with Julia O’Connell.”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving me a wedding present.”

“Maybe I am. But just consider this. If what I am saying is true, then the vacant position that Brad Colbert is about to step into didn’t appear by accident.”

“Holy crap.”

“And you can point the finger at Viktor Polyakov. I’m not sure what that means for Julia, but if I were you I’d get her far away from here.”

Donovan pulled out his phone, stabbed the screen with his finger, then held it up to his ear.

“Fuck, voice mail.”

He left a message, then hung up. “Look, I gotta go. I need to find her.”

“Good luck.” Walker held out his hand. “Find her and run far away.”

“That’s what I intend to do — today.”

“I’m gonna miss you, Don.”

Donovan gave him a cockeyed look. “Before this week, you hadn’t seen me in twenty years.”

“I know.” Walker smiled.

Donovan shook his head and hurried off in the direction of the Lincoln Memorial.

Walker headed back the way he had come. He had left Tanya’s car on the edge of the city and taken the metro in to the Smithsonian. From there, it had been a short walk to the meeting with Donovan. He pulled out his phone and dialed the last number Vasili had given him. All he got was a message in Russian saying the phone was not in service.

Where was Vasili when he needed him?

He had to get a message to Viktor, had to let him know it was time to put their cards on the table, time to let Viktor know his secret was out. It was time to bargain for Nikki's life. Vasili was the man who could always contact Viktor. Where was the sonofabitch?

He called Tanya’s number. Her phone seemed to ring forever. He was expecting voicemail when she finally answered.

“Sorry, I was out on the dock. I left my phone in the kitchen. It’s nice and peaceful out there by the water, especially with the snow starting to fall.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“Have you seen the news?”

“No, why?”

“The President is making an announcement tomorrow at three o'clock from the White House. My friend over at the Post tells me he is going to announce Brad Colbert as the new Vice President. What do you want me to do?”

“Don't stop, keep digging. We have to find something. Some proof. Remember, at the moment all we have is speculation, wild speculation.”

He hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket.

When he had arrived, he could still see the dome of the Capitol building ahead in the distance. Now it was lost in the snow. But it was still there and Viktor was bringing this fight right to its heart.

He wanted his man, his mole, in there. Once he was, only one man stood in his way to the oval office — Jake Tasker. In another world, he might have thought that was just what he deserved. In a strange way, the man who stood between Peter Sterling and the seat behind the Resolute Desk, was also the man who he could blame for his parents’ death.

The more he thought about it, the more twisted and convoluted it became.

He wasn’t quite sure why he had chosen the Washington Monument to meet with Donovan, but it felt appropriate. Maybe it was because George Washington was the first President, and on a clear day, both the White House and the Capitol building were visible from here. But he realized it was more than that. He was surrounded by memorials, war memorials. The Vietnam Memorial Wall, the Korean War Memorial, and the monument to those who were lost in World War II. Men and Women who had sacrificed for their country.

Wasn’t that why that naive young man he had once been had signed up to serve in the first place.

And Viktor Polyakov wanted to put his puppet in the White House and trample over everything they had given their lives to protect.

Forget revenge and long term payback. He didn't give a damn about Jake Tasker. He could go to hell. But he wasn't going to allow Viktor to make a mockery of their sacrifice.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

The first one appeared out of the swirling mist of the falling snow, standing in the middle of the walkway, looking directly at him. His intention was obvious. He wasn’t getting past. There would be more behind and out to the sides.

They wouldn't attempt to take him here. Too open, too much surveillance. They would try to herd him out towards the traffic, either directly ahead, but that was still quite a walk, and perhaps a little too public, or they would force him to the right, out onto Jefferson Drive, where no doubt they would have a car waiting.

They didn’t disappoint.

The pedestrian way cut off to the right, past the entrance to Smithsonian Metro station. Another guy stood by the escalator. He wasn’t going in that way.

In the midst of it all, his mind was processing the thought of where had they come from. It must have been someone tracking Donovan, because he was sure no one had got close to him. He needed to warn Don.

If he ever got a chance.

Two men appeared out of the mist and shepherded him forward. He still had the Glock stuffed in the back of his trousers, but if he pulled it out and started shooting this could all be over very quickly, and not in his favor. He had to stay alive and free if Nikki was to have any chance at all.

The car, a black SUV, was parked by the roadside on Jefferson drive, the rear door was open and a man stood there inviting him in. The man let him see the handle of the gun protruding out of the top of his trousers. He gave him a look that seemed to dare him to make a try for it.

Walker seemed to back off, as if acknowledging he was never going to make it. Then he stepped forward, as if ready to get in the car. The man pushed a hand into his chest, then nodded to his companion, who stepped up to Walker and patted him down. He winced as the man’s hand grabbed at his wound. The man removed the Glock then pushed him towards the open door of the car.

Walker ducked then struck out hard with his left boot, catching the one by the car on the side of his knee. Walker felt the snap of his cruciate ligaments. The man screamed. The other one behind, was close. Walker rotated and jabbed with his elbow, striking the center of his chest with all the force he could leverage. The man's eyes popped and suddenly he was gasping for breath. The two others were further back. They had decided it was time to get back to basics and pulled out their weapons.

Walker was already moving out into the traffic. His side was on fire. He tried not to think what he had just done to Alice’s needlework. A taxi slammed on his brakes and hit the horn at the same time. Walker dashed for the far sidewalk and sprinted down the continued pedestrian way.

He risked a quick look behind. The two men had only just crossed the road. He veered to his right and caught sight of the escalator, moving down to the other end of Smithsonian station. He knew where it was because he had taken the wrong exit when he had arrived and emerged at this spot. He pushed past a man who cursed as he struggled on down. He could hear the clatter of his pursuers and the cry as they shoved the pedestrian aside.

The squeal of an approaching train greeted him as he reached the bottom. He swung around the corner. The ticket barriers blocked his way. He had a ticket, but he had no time.

He vaulted the barrier and kept on running. Pain seared up his side. His head was pounding, and it was difficult to breathe. He emerged onto the platform and sprinted forward. The train doors slid shut in his face. He kept running, his body moving on autopilot, hoping a sharp eyed guard might open the door.

What world was he living in?

Two men were trying to kill him in this world, and no one was opening the train door. He kept on running as if he was chasing the departing train.

At the end of the platform, the way narrowed and was blocked by an iron barred gate. A sign said Authorized Entry Only. Walker grabbed the outer bar of the gate and swung his body out over the rail track.

Pain scythed through his body.

A security barrier reached halfway up the height of the gate on the far side of the gate. He pulled his body in and swung his legs over the top of the barrier and landed on the narrow walkway. The pain exploded.

Something pinged off a bar on the gate and whistled past his head, but there was no sound of a shot. His pursuers were no longer playing games.

Walker had to dig deep as he struggled to his feet and dashed forward into the darkness.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Walker caught their voices, snatched words in Russian, as they moved through the tunnel towards him. He crouched in an arched recess in the wall. There was a metal access cover, probably to some electrical or control equipment, but no way out. He held onto his wound, the blood sticky as it seeped through his jacket. He felt hot, despite the chill of the tunnel. The voices seemed to echo inside his head.

He had made good progress through the tunnel, but his good luck had finally run out. The raised walkway had run out ten yards after the security gate, leaving a walk by the track and the live rail. But what had driven him to seek refuge in the recess in the wall was up ahead. The tunnel was lit up by bright lights, maybe as the line approached the next station. That should have been a good thing, but he knew his pursuers were too close, and if he headed that way he would be lit up like a duck on a fairground shooting range. They would take him down before he reached the station.

So he hid and waited, as the blood seeped out of his opened wound, and desperately tried to hold on to consciousness.

He caught the scrape of a shoe. It was close. The first man emerged out of the gloom. Walker had been straining his eyes into the darkness, adjusting his vision for the right moment. He pushed his body down into a crouch as far into the recess as he could. He had one chance at this.

He let the first one pass. The man wasn’t looking his way. He had seen the light up ahead and was searching for Walker’s escaping figure.

The second figure emerged, his gun held out in front of him, following about five yards behind his colleague. Walker waited for him to draw level, then take one more step.

He moved fast out of the recess, pivoting on his left leg, the heel of his right boot caught the man high on his ribs. Walker sensed them break as he transmitted all of his weight and power into the kick. The pain shot like an electric bolt up his side. The man let out a cry as he disappeared into the darkness.

Walker stepped back and screwed his eyes tight shut but he still caught the sharp blue flash as the body struck the live third rail.

He darted forward, his eyes now wide open, his energy fueled by pain and pure adrenaline. The man in front had turned around, but his attention was on the glow from the rail track. Walker grabbed the gun hand and brought his knee up hard into the man’s groin. The man grunted and staggered backwards, but Walker was on him. The man stumbled as he appeared to trip over his own feet and went down backwards hard. His head struck the outer rail with a dull thud. By the time Walker was on him, he was unconscious. Walker felt for a pulse. He could find none.

Shit.

He needed to talk to this man. He needed to get to Viktor.

He checked the man’s pockets. His wallet gave him nothing, no credit cards, no ID. He pulled out a cell phone, a cheap low end smart phone, obviously a burner. The screen demanded a pass code. He looked down at the man, his arms outstretched. He let his mind see an image of him coming towards him, his gun in his hand - his left hand. He grabbed the man’s left wrist, then pushed his forefinger against the screen. The phone rejected it. He tried his index finger, then worked his way through the rest of his fingers as the phone rejected each one. He was about to try the other hand when he realized he still had one option left. He pressed the man’s thumb against the screen and the phone lit up.

Walker quickly accessed the phone’s call log. There were a few calls, but only two numbers. He tried calling the last one. A phone began ringing somewhere down on the rail track. He hung up and tried the other one. The phone rang a few times before a voice answered.

“Da?”

Walker didn’t reply.

“Stepan, is it done?” The voice asked in Russian.

Walker replied in the same language. He knew this wasn’t Viktor. He was sure Viktor didn’t speak directly to the hired help. “Tell your boss, I know all about his boy.”

Walker hung up and tossed the phone on to the rail track. No doubt they would have the means to track it, and besides, he knew Vasili could always contact Viktor when he was ready to talk. That was, if Vasili was ever going to call him back.

He caught sight of something lying by the railroad track. He bent and picked it up. It was a Glock-19. They seemed popular with Viktor’s men. He would need to try his best to hang on to it this time.

He stood there, swaying. The lights ahead seemed to dim, then go bright again. He reached out for the wall of the tunnel. He touched it with the palm of his hand and almost fell towards it. For a moment he clung there, the tiles on the tunnel wall cool on the side of his face.

He couldn’t fail now. Nikki was still out there. He pushed himself off the wall and staggered forward, moving towards the lights.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Julia had spent the day between the Capitol building and the myriad of government offices that made up her daily place of work, tidying up for her departure, and saying her goodbyes.

She stood at her office window, looking out for the last time. From up here it all seemed so magical, like a candlelit fairy land. That was what she had thought when she was a little girl and she had looked out from her father’s office window, one Halloween.

‘It’s like a fairy tale city,’ she remembered calling out to him.

She recalled his hand on her shoulder and his words.

Hic sunt dracones.

She had looked up at him, bewildered by what he had said. He had smiled down at her.

‘Here be dragons.’

He had been right. This could be a viscous nasty place, and in reality she was glad to be getting out.

She had had a good run. She had worked for the State department and been involved in the war on drugs. After Columbia, she came back to Washington. She had moved around, even done a spell at Homeland Security. Her father wanted her to run for office, but deep down she knew she was a doer, not a smiling face - Sorry, Dad. She couldn't somehow step out and take all the shit that went with it.

When Jake Tasker had won the election and her father had been promoted to Vice President, he had asked her to come and work for him. She had been given the rather grand title of Special Counsel to the Vice President. It was a job that was something different on almost every day, depending on what her father or even she decided. Now her father was gone, so was the job.

There had been no shortage of offers. Senator Arthur Jackson, a democrat from Wisconsin, had offered her a particularly interesting position as his Chief Policy Advisor. The Senator was a good, honest man, hard to find in these hallowed few square miles, in its world of self serving, opportunity grabbing, snake oil salesmen, concerned only with their scramble for power, their social media image, and their own personal gain.

Her father's words, not her own, from a man who had spent his adult life treading these halls of power, making deals and compromises, just to move things forward by the smallest step.

Her own vision of changing the world had faded a long time ago. She was well aware that she had fallen at the barricades, never being able to scale the high fortress battlements, never making that big difference. So she had settled for doing what she could.

Still, there was a sadness at leaving, those people at the coal face, the shit diggers, the crap shovelers, and the congressional galley slave rowers. The ones with their noses to the grindstone, who kept the government running every single day. She would miss them and the honor she had always felt working with them. But to be honest, it would not be the same anymore, now that Dad was no longer around.

But she had one last thing to do for him. She was almost at the end. She couldn’t trust the authorities with what she had. She knew if the Secret Service got hold of her evidence, it would disappear forever, like her no doubt. And the police wouldn’t go near it if the Secret Service were involved.

She hadn’t told Don about it. She knew what he would do, and that would only put him at risk. No, she had it all planned out.

There was a time when she would have taken it to the Washington Post, but they didn’t have the balls anymore, not like the Watergate days. Maybe Bob Woodward would write a book about it one day, but for now, she had a different strategy.

She had a lunch meeting tomorrow with a well known blogger. She branded herself as a social warrior and she had over ten million followers. With people sharing her blogs, it would be all the way round the world by the next morning. But she was not hanging about for the fallout.

She would tell Don about it over dinner tomorrow night, when they would be far away from here. Don had booked first class sleeping accommodation on the Amtrak to Miami, leaving tomorrow afternoon. They would settle their affairs here in Washington later, but for now they were traveling light.

She looked around for her phone, but she couldn’t see it. She rooted through her bag, but it wasn’t there. She must have left it somewhere on her travels today. But she didn’t care about phone calls, where they were going, she wasn’t sure if she would even have a phone. She was meeting Don for dinner and tomorrow they were heading out for a new life.

She locked the door of her office and caught the elevator down to the main lobby. The security guard at the front desk looked up as she walked up and deposited her office and car keys and her security pass.

“I hear you’re leaving us, Miss O’Connell.”

She gave him a tight smile and nodded. “Time comes for us all.”

“We’ll miss you around here, and your father.”

The smile broke into a grin. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll miss you all too.”

“Have a good evening, Miss O’Connell.”

“Goodnight, Joe,” Julia called back and headed for the door.

She pushed her way through the rotating doors and stepped out into the chill of the evening. She had wanted to experience the feeling of walking out of the building and leaving it all behind.

She wasn’t disappointed.

She could have called an Uber, but she felt a spring in her step, and if she cut across the park, the walk was less than twenty minutes.

She was meeting Don for dinner in an hour. She had time to get home and take a quick shower. Don would forgive her if she was a little late. He had called her this morning and said he had been researching properties down in the Keys, and had found one that was an absolute gem. He couldn’t wait to tell her all about it, and show her the pics.

It was quite busy as she headed through the park. It had stopped snowing, and it looked beautiful, cloaked in its snow white livery. She felt like skipping.

Her foot slipped on an icy patch. She pitched forward, struggled to regain her balance, and collided directly into a man coming in the other direction. She had to grab on to him to stop herself from falling.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out.

He smiled down at her. She wasn’t short, but he stood a good head above. It was a handsome face.

“Are you okay?” There was a hint of an accent in there. She wasn't sure from where, but it was from beyond these shores.

“I'm so sorry. Head full of mush and me not looking where I was going.”

She realized she was still clinging on to him.

She let go, declined his offer of coffee, and left him there, standing in the middle of the park.

Steady girl. You haven’t even started drinking yet.

She exited the park and made the short walk to where she lived. She emerged onto her street. She recognized Don’s town car parked in front of her building, maybe fifty yards away on the other side of the street. She knew it was him because he was standing beside it.

She walked along on the other side of the street, watching him. He looked worried, but then he always did. He was handsome in his own way, but inside there something much more beautiful, something that had attracted her to him. He was a man who cared, and despite the fact that the world had shit on him, he had kept on going.

Well, from now on, the world was changing for both of them.

A strange thought entered her head as she stepped into the street.

Was Don going to propose to her tonight?

She had a sudden image of wedding dresses and small children.

The headlights seemed to appear out of nowhere, along with the scream of the engine. It was like she was stuck in time, unable to move her legs. Don turned around at the last moment. She could see the look of horror on his face. His mouth opened, but she didn’t hear him.

The car was almost upon her. It made no attempt to brake. In the moment before it struck her, she could clearly see the driver’s impassive face. She had seen it only a short time before. He had been smiling then. It was the man from the park.

She was vaguely aware that she was flying through the air, but there was no pain. The lights seemed even brighter.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Walker watched the apartment block from across the road. He was sitting in Tanya’s VW, bleeding all over her driver’s seat. But he couldn’t do anything about that right now.

He had tried calling Vasili, but with no luck. Which was par for the course. He also tried calling Don, but the number was out of service as was the cutout number he had used before. Hoping for third time lucky he had called Tanya. She had picked up almost straight away. He didn’t tell her about his little encounter, only that Don was looking into things. She gave him an update on what she had been working on, but she had little to add. He told her he was staying in town tonight and he would be back in the morning. If he ever saw the morning. He kept the last part to himself.

Part of him told him he should stay away from Tanya's place, but something was pulling him in. He wanted to feel close to her. That part was true, and he wasn't going to risk going back out to the bird sanctuary house. What he had to do next he had to do on his own, and he had to stay as far away from Tanya as possible.

But there was another reason he wanted to stay here tonight. If they really knew so much about him, and about Tanya, then they presumably knew about this place. And if they did, surely they would come looking, even if just to check the place out. If he could get hold of one of them who was still breathing, while he himself was still breathing, then maybe he could extract enough to get one more rung up this ladder. One step closer to Viktor.

One step closer to Nikki.

He got out of the car, then crossed the road and went in through the front door. He pulled out the Glock and took the stairs to the first floor, holding onto the handrail as he mounted each step. He didn't switch on the lights and let his eyes adjust to the dark. He turned right at the top of the stairs. He knew that Tanya's apartment was immediately on his left. He approached Tanya's front door. He still had the key she had given him. Something brushed past his legs. He stepped back, bringing up the Glock.

He heard the low miaow.

Walker let out his breath.

"Sorry, Oscar." He whispered.

He pushed the key into Tanya's front door lock and heard the swing of the cat flap as Oscar pushed his way in. Walker took advantage of the distraction and followed him in. It opened directly into a small hallway. The kitchen door was open to his right. He stepped away from the open door. Oscar trotted into the kitchen. He heard the scrape of the bowl on the floor as Oscar dug into the remnants of what he hadn't eaten earlier.

Walker held his breath and pointed the Glock at the open living room door. He stepped towards it. He remembered the light switch was just inside the door. If they were in there already, well, it was time to find out.

He reached around the doorjamb and felt for the light switch. His middle finger felt it and he left it there. He gripped the Glock in his other hand and flicked on the light. He pushed himself up against the wall, now holding the gun out in both hands, waiting for the first shots. Bright balls of light danced across his vision. He swung around, pointing the gun, then stepped into the room.

There was nobody there.

“Hello,” a voice called from the front door.

Walker pushed the Glock behind his back as Alice appeared. She switched on the hall light. She was momentarily distracted as Oscar bounded across to meet her, and he shoved the gun into the back of his trousers as she bent and picked him up, tickling him under the chin.

“Oscar, are you feeling hungry?”

“Alice.”

She looked across at Walker.

“Mister Walker, you're back. Is Tanya with you?”

“No, she staying out at the bird sanctuary for another couple of days. Didn’t she call you?”

“Maybe. I forgot to charge my damned phone.” She put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Sorry.” She seemed to see him fully for the first time. “Are you all right?” She stepped forward. “Look at you. What have you been doing?”

“I’m okay, I think I may have pulled open my sutures.”

“Let me take a look.” She pointed to the open kitchen door, then followed him inside.

Walker pulled off his jacket, then eased off his shirt and sat down at the kitchen table. Alice removed the dressing, then tutted as she examined the wound.

“What have you been doing, Mister Walker? You’ve ripped the wound wide open.”

Walker managed a smile. “Please, call me Robert. I slipped on the ice.”

“I’ll have to replace the sutures. I’ll get my kit.”

Alice disappeared out the door. Oscar sat at his feet, seeming to give him a know all look.

Alice reappeared carrying her emergency kit. She cleaned the wound with disinfectant. Walker gritted his teeth and looked down at Oscar. There was no sympathy there.

“I'm sorry to say, this is not a very safe city. You have to take care where you go.”

Tanya had told her he had been mugged, and he had left the story at that.

“That’s what I’m finding out.”

Alice prepared the needle and the suture thread.

“You’re going to feel a small prick.”

Oscar looked up at him - you got that one, buddy.

He tried to give Alice a reassuring smile. “Look, Alice. This was no casual mugging. There's been some trouble, personal trouble. I'm worried they may come here looking for me.”

“So, why are you here? Why don’t you go to the police.”

Which was a good question. At least the first part.

“It’s not that simple.”

She gave him a firm look. “From what little Tanya has told me about you. That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Look. I don't want to get into that right now, but I also don’t want you getting caught up in all this. These are bad people. Is there somewhere you can go for a few days?”

“Me? What have I to do with it?”

“I just want you to be safe.”

“What about my job? I'm off to my night shift now.” She picked up the fob watch pinned to the medical scrubs she wore beneath her open overcoat. “And I’m going to be late.”

“Can't you call in sick. Look just for a few days. A week from now, this will be all over and everything can go back to normal. But for now it really is too dangerous for you to stay here.”

“But—”

“If anything happened to you, Tanya would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself.”

Alice gave a shrug. “I guess I could go to my sister in Fort Lauderdale. She's always on to me to visit."

"I'll book you a ticket."

"You don't have to."

"Call it a little payback for patching me up."

Alice gave a slight grin. "Maybe I could use a little sunshine. I'm on shift tonight. I'll tell them I have a family emergency."

"Which in a way you have."

She finished up her stitching and dressed and re-bandaged the wound, then looked at her watch again.

“I have to leave. The traffic can get bad at this time and I don't want to piss off my boss if I'm asking her for a favor. I’ll change the dressing on that, when I come back in the morning.”

She pulled off her rubber surgical gloves and ditched them in the trash, then headed for the door. Walker followed her out to the sidewalk, despite her protests, then watched her climb into a battered Volvo and drive away. He felt a relief as her car disappeared around the corner. One issue dealt with.

He made it back to the apartment, poured himself the remains of the bourbon, and eased himself into an armchair. He had to focus on the issues he hadn’t dealt with. The two most precious things in his life were being threatened, and all he could do was sit here and wait.

CHAPTER SIXTY

The man called Polyakov had called an hour ago. Ivan was pounding on the treadmill. He had the phone on speaker. They had talked about her and what they intended to do. The thought chilled her deep into her stomach. But that was not what frightened her the most. It was worse, far worse than what they had planned for her. They intended to use her to draw in her father, and Ivan had been given clear orders. He was to kill him.

She knew she had to go, or she would never go at all. But she had to wait until it was dark. It was the only way it could work. Yesterday it had all been so clear, but now as the moment drew closer the doubts were crowding into her mind.

It had all started by accident, two accidents actually.

First she had kicked aside the floor mat in the bathroom and found the hatch. She had been on enough boats to recognize an access hatch down to the engine space and the boats plumbing. The hatch had a recessed round catch. She slipped her finger through and pulled. It gave after a sharp tug.

It led down into the bilges. She had waited until it was dark to explore. The hatch had led out to the rear deck, just above the swim deck. She had even been close enough to slip over the side without being seen. But what then? The lights seemed so close, but she knew she would never survive in that cold water.

It was the previous evening she had been there on the rear deck when the light had come on in the cabin, and she had heard the scrape of the door being slid open. There was a recess in the corner. She slipped into it as someone stepped out onto the deck. She recognized one of the Russians. It wasn’t the one called Ivan. She caught the sharp smell of tobacco smoke, and she could see him leaning over the rail on the far side, but she knew if he turned around he was bound to see her.

She pushed as far back into the recess as she could. Something poked into her back. She reached behind her and felt the round shape of a doorknob. She twisted it and the door gave with a slight creak. She held her breath, praying the sound was lost in the creaking of the boat and the splash of the ocean. She pushed open the door and moved into a small room, hardly bigger than a room cupboard. She closed the door but left enough of a gap to peek out through.

Eventually, the man flicked the butt of his cigarette out into the sea, then turned and looked directly towards her. She was certain he would hear the thumping of her heart, but he headed back inside. She heard the scrape of the door being closed and the light in the cabin went off.

She needed to get back before anyone checked on her. She pulled open the door. The boat pitched suddenly, and she reached for the wall to steady herself. Her hand touched something hanging there in the darkness. She didn’t have to see it to know what it was, she had been diving since she was five years old. She knew that what she was touching was a wetsuit.

She had made it back to her cabin without being discovered, but not before she had found two other wetsuits hanging on hooks on the wall. Each one had a face mask with a snorkel attached and flippers hanging with it. She had searched the rest of the room, but the thing she had hoped for most had left her disappointed. There were no air tanks.

She had spent the next day making her plans. She knew if she wanted to live, if she was able to reach the lights on the horizon, if she reached land, she had to have dry clothes when she got there. Otherwise, she would escape only to die of hyperthermia.

The answer was the towels one of the men had left in her cabin. The towels were bath size, from a laundry, and sealed in plastic bags. They were going to be her lifeline.

The weather had not looked good, and she had already decided to wait another day and hope it would improve. That was before she heard Ivan’s phone call with the man called Polyakov.

She stood in the tiny bathroom, staring out through the porthole, watching the lights dance on the horizon. She had stripped down to her bra and briefs, and packed her clothes into one of the plastic bags. There were two bags in all. One had a dry towel with her sneakers wrapped inside, the other held her clothes.

She touched the bra. Her friend Elli had bought it for her. It wasn’t something she could talk to Dad about. An image of her father sprang into her mind. She had to find him. She couldn’t let them harm him.

She made her way down into the bilges, holding the plastic bags above her head. The whine of the generator filled the space, but the engine was quiet. It was dark, and she had to feel her way forward. The smell of the diesel oil was much stronger down here. It was a familiar smell that gave her some comfort. Part of her wanted to stay there, as if she could stay and everything would be all right. It felt safe here and what was ahead was a darkness that she was unsure she would ever get free of.

She saw the face of her father in her mind. He was urging her forward. She pushed on, making her way past the machinery and reached the ladder up to the deck. She gripped it, driving her determination into her legs and climbed the rungs. At the top she pushed open the hatch. She nudged her head clear and looked back towards the main cabin. There was no sign of Ivan or the other two. Usually at this time, they were drinking vodka. She didn’t know when they would come looking for her.

She slipped out onto the rear deck and moved into the alcove. Her heart was pounding as she grasped the doorknob. What if someone had locked it, or had removed the wet suits? She knew she would never survive out in the ocean without one. She held her breath and twisted the knob. The door gave with a sigh. She stepped inside, opening the door fully to let the moonlight in. The three wetsuits were still hanging on their hooks.

She chose the smallest one, then took off her bra, then her briefs, and climbed into the wetsuit. She caught the familiar rubbery smell of the neoprene. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could do this, but she had to focus, and she had to move — now.

She slipped her bra and panties into one of the bags, then tied them up with the laces from her sneakers and slung them around her neck. She looked out towards the lights. They were tantalizingly close. She could swim that distance, she was sure of that. She had swum much further, back home in the Aegean, in the beautiful, blue, warm Aegean.

She looked down at the black mass awaiting her. She pulled on the flippers. They were a little big, but she pulled the rubber straps as tight as she could and stepped out onto the swim deck. She sat down with her legs dangling in the water. It was freezing even with leggings of the wet suit. She dipped the mask in the seawater, shook it clear, and pulled it down over her face. She pushed the mouthpiece of the snorkel into her mouth, then she took a bearing on the lights relative to the boat, and slipped over the side into the water.

She dropped like a stone. She seemed to go down forever. The shock of the cold was stunning. It seemed to paralyze her whole body. Panic drove an overwhelming urge to push up, to break through to the surface, to breathe. But thrashing about would only draw attention from someone on the boat. She held it back and allowed her natural buoyancy to take her up.

Her head broke the surface, and she tried to control the intake of her breath through the snorkel. She waited, treading water with a gentle swing of her flippers and allowed her body to heat the thin film of water in her wet suit. It was never going to be warm, but she hoped it would be enough to survive. She had drifted away from the boat. She looked back towards it. Everything appeared quiet.

God, she was cold.

She had to move, had to generate more heat. She began to swim towards the lights.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Viktor Polyakov hurled the vodka glass at the wall. It shattered into tiny pieces and scattered across the floor. Someone tapped on the door of the hotel suite.

“Boss, are you all right?”

Viktor swore loudly in Russian. He seethed with anger. He had started drinking early. Not that the alcohol seemed to have any effect on his system. Yuri had already called and passed on the message that Walker had sent. Walker thought he knew what was going on, but he did not have a clue.

Expect the unexpected. That was the lesson he had learned over years of forcing his will on others. But the other lesson he had learned was one he knew from painful experience. If life can shove it up your ass, it will. Ivan had called moments ago and did just that.

The girl was gone.

He should have nipped this in the bud way back, right at the beginning. He should have been strong from the start.

When Walker had arrived here and avoided his reception party, he had been back in St. Petersburg, keeping an eye on Vasili. He had decided after his own initial outburst that Vasili was going to be far more useful alive than dead. And so it had proved early on. He had intercepted Vasili’s message to Walker, setting up the meeting with Dimitri. It was not difficult, but he suspected that Vasili was playing games, looking to track Walker and his kidnappers back to his granddaughter. But that was never going to work, because firstly, he had men looking for Vasili’s tracker, and he had been swiftly nipped in the bud. And secondly, because Walker would not be seeing his daughter until the time was right, and then it would be far too late for both of them.

It wasn’t a part of the plan that he was enamored with, but it seemed that someone’s lust for revenge would need to be satisfied if they were to carry on with rest of the plan.

He had read the January file, especially as it related to Walker. He knew all the essential details.

Lloyd Donovan, Walker’s ex boss was still at the CIA but no high flyer these days. But then he knew all about Lloyd Donovan. He might not have an office on the upper floors of Langley anymore, but a man with his experience had access to information way above his pay grade. He would have been Walker’s first port of call. But Donovan was smart and it took them a while to catch up to him.

And then there was the former FBI man, Ed Cooper, a man with a chip on his shoulder and a host of information on January. They had tried to remove him early on but Cooper had turned out to be a little smarter and a little more nimble than they had expected. But as things had developed he had decided to keep him in play. In the end it had paid off.

When Walker had gone to Eleanor he was skating a little too close to the edge. The risk to the project had suddenly risen beyond the benefits of keeping one person happy. It was time for him to go. Unfortunately, they had been spectacularly unsuccessful in dealing with that.

It had also meant the end for Eleanor. He genuinely felt bad about that. She had been so instrumental in getting them this far. But she always knew the end goal was far bigger than any individual.

His phone buzzed again. The caller ID was unknown, but he recognized the voice on the other end.

“I thought it was time we spoke.”

“I am not sure that is a good idea. It is against protocol and you need to focus on what you have to do.”

“I know what I have to do.”

“Good. I was about to send you a message. Your problem is already taken care of.”

“Excellent, then we’re all set to go.”

“It is already in hand.”

“And Walker?”

“I am working on that.”

“These days, Viktor, it seems you always have a problem. A little bird tells me Mister Walker’s daughter decided to take an evening swim.”

Viktor bit back a curse.

“You do know how cold the water is out in that bay at this time of year. She is probably already dead.”

Viktor let the anger subside before he spoke. “I am well aware of that.”

“So what do you plan to do now?”

“I told you. I am working on it.”

There was a pause on the line before the caller spoke.

“Can I make a suggestion?”

Viktor didn’t reply with the words he wanted to. Instead, he just said. “Feel free.”

“You have read the file?”

“Of course. I had a team of analysts take it apart and extract every relevant point.”

“Then you know that fortunately for both of us, Walker’s daughter Nikki, was not his only weakness.”

Viktor hung up the phone and walked out onto the balcony. The White House, lit up across the park, seemed to stand in defiance to all his carefully laid plans. He needed to take control. He was too close to let it all fall apart now.

His thirty year dream was there. All he had to do was reach out to grasp it. Back at the beginning, it had seemed hopeless, nothing more than the barest glimmer of a dream. He had taken the chance, made the sacrifices, and planted the seed. And now his dream was about to flower.

He had seen it all coming before the Soviet Union fell. It was there for anyone to see who cared to look. Weakness, corruption, self gratification. Someone had to stand up to it. Someone had to have a plan. He had seen the writing on the wall, but he could do nothing then, only put the pieces in place, and hope. He had been forced to stand by and watch as his beautiful country was raped and pillaged, brought to her knees by the scum in the Kremlin and their thieving cronies. He had watched as the American Government danced around proclaiming victory, then as successive governments on both sides of the Atlantic had strangled her economy with corrupt practices and a succession of foreign sanctions, the Russian people had been left to starve.

But he had planted his seed, and had nurtured it along the way, watering, providing the sunshine and when necessary the shade. And now his plan was about to unfold. Not just here, but also back in mother Russia. This was a global strategy that was about to change the world.

A series of events would put his son, Alexi, in power in Russia. That already was well under control. They would clear out the scum and begin to rebuild. Rebuild her strength, her place in the world. But he had very special plans for this country.

The bite of the wind sweeping in across the park seemed to give him the kick he needed. He looked across at the White House, spotlit in the darkness. The Main Enemy would be directly in his sights.

But this would not be a new nuclear arms race, or a series of carefully provoked, economy draining, life sucking wars. He did not intend to destroy her with bombs and body bags. The American people had become immune to all of that. No, he intended to take her apart from the inside, from his own vantage point right inside the oval office.

It would happen slowly at first, but it would not be difficult. The pieces were already in place. The need for self destruction was already strong within the populace, they were prepared to believe whatever the media told them. All they needed was someone to blame for all the misfortune in their pathetic lives, and he intended to give them just that.

He would own the media and his cyber army would bend it to his every wish. And with it, along with the decisions made in the oval office and within their corrupt, self serving Congress, he would tear apart any semblance of law and order, strangle her fragile economy, eat away at the fabric of her society like a cancer. And when she was no more than emaciated, skin and bone, he would push her out into the third world and watch her wither and die.

Viktor gripped the rail of the balcony as he physically took control. He took a deep breath, then took out his phone and made a call. Ivan answered. He could hear him pounding on the running machine.

“Ivan, get off that fucking machine and listen to me.”

The sound of the running machine droned to a halt.

“Any news of the girl?”

“I have everyone sweeping the shoreline, and the boat has been searching the area where the tide might have taken her. But we found nothing. The fact is, boss, we may never find her body.”

“I am well aware of that. How are things going with Walker?”

“We are still tracking the CIA guy, Donovan. It is our best path to Walker.”

“Let us hope you have more success this time.”

“This time I will be there personally.”

“Well get out there now and do it. And Ivan, I need you to not fuck it up this time.”

“I am on it, Mister Polyakov.”

“Where is Lev?”

“He is out looking for the girl.”

“Tell him to call me. I have a job for him.”

Viktor hung up the phone and walked back inside his suite to the small bar. He poured himself a vodka and sank it in a single swallow. He thought about his recent call. Someone had been telling tales. Was it Ivan? He knew he was only in it for the money. But then was that not the case for all of them. Ivan was becoming a problem. He had been brought in to do a specific job with his specific skillset. He had got him doing other things because he wanted to keep things within a tight circle. So much for that. Ivan had assured him he could deal with it. He had been forced to go on the open market to deal with the former Vice President’s daughter because he couldn’t afford to have Ivan distracted. Now he wondered if he was going to have to do that again. It was time to change tack, and the suggestion he had been given fit into that - for now.

Twenty four hours, that was all he needed.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Oscar woke him as he came in through the cat flap. No doubt he had had a better night than him. He had spent the night in the living room armchair, the gun in his hand, ready for any visitors. But up to this point, Oscar had been his only one. He had nodded off at intervals but for the most part he had stayed awake, trying not to let his thoughts, in particular his fears, get the better of him.

Instead, he had let Maya, his darling Maya, inhabit his mind. She had come into his life like a breath of fresh air, at a time when he really believed he was beyond salvage. That she was Vasili’s daughter was the unbelievable part. She had to take after her mother, though he had never met the lady. She had died when Maya was young, but he remembered Maya had rich memories of her.

Maybe it was those memories that sustained her, or maybe she had just made it on her own, a free spirit with a strong spiritual compass, and a way of looking at the world that constantly surprised him. Gradually she had brought him out of the darkness, back into the light. And into that bright, wonderful world she had brought Nikki.

But Maya was gone, and here he was, standing on the edge of the abyss, the darkness beyond, beckoning. He knew he was willing to step out, to let it take him. At this point, he didn’t care. Whatever it took to save Nikki.

It was still dark outside when he left the armchair. He took a quick shower and headed into the kitchen. There was no sign of Oscar. He had obviously eaten and left. He found what was left of Tanya’s beef soup in a plastic container in the refrigerator and heated it up in the microwave, then sat at the kitchen table and ate it.

He looked at his watch. It was just after seven. Alice had said she got off at eight. He knew he would feel a lot better when she was on her way to her sister’s house.

He put on a fresh pot of coffee and called Tanya. He wasn't sure she would thank him for waking her.

She sounded breathless.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I'm just back from a run. Where are you?”

“I spent the night at your place.”

“Was that a good idea?”

“Whatever, I had no visitors. Except for Oscar.”

“Is he okay?”

“He seemed fine, but he appears to have taken off again.”

“Sounds like Oscar. Can you top up his food?”

“Will do. I ran into Alice. I persuaded her to take a short vacation. She's going to stay with her sister for a week.”

“I tried to call her.”

“Never mind, I’ve spoken to her now. She's flying out this afternoon.”

“And what are you going to be doing?”

“I need to make contact with Viktor Polyakov. It's time we had a serious talk.”

“You be careful.”

“Aren't I always.”

He hung up the phone and went over his options once more. He had sent a message to Viktor. He needed an answer.

It was over an hour later when he caught a noise out in the hallway. He cracked the door and peered out. Alice appeared at the top of the steps.

“Busy night?”

She gave him a tired smile. “You could say so. Traffic accidents, gunshot victims and victims of domestic violence, and a couple of heart attacks. Standard Friday night.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“My bag is already packed, but the flight isn’t until four. I’ll change your dressing, then I thought I might get a couple of hours’ sleep before I go.”

“I’d prefer it if you headed out to the airport early. I booked you into business class so you can use their lounge. You can get a couple of hours sleep there, but you will be safe.”

“Do you think it’s that bad?”

“Let’s not take any chances.”

An hour later, with a fresh dressing and a tight bandage, he waved her off in a cab. He felt an immediate relief — but it didn’t last.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

The snow was beginning to fall again as the car turned in through the cemetery gate and approached along the drive. The front near side light was broken and, as it came a little closer, Walker could see a nasty scrape that ran down the front fender.

Walker had parked Tanya’s VW outside the gates and walked up the hill. He waved, and the car came to a halt. Donovan had sounded a little strange on the phone when he had called to arrange the meet. Walker knew why as he climbed into the car and the sweet smell of the liquor hit him.

“Are you all right, Don?”

“I’m fine.” Donovan seemed to be struggling to get the words out.

“Pushing out the boat a little early.”

“Some days are like that.”

Walker glanced out of the rear window as a cop on a motorcycle drove in through the gate. “I hope he wasn’t following you.”

Donovan watched through the rear mirror, but the cop drove on past.

“I think you could do without talking to any cops for a few hours.”

“I said I’m fine,” Donovan protested in a way that showed he was not.

“So what’s going on?”

Donovan stared out through the windscreen at the falling snow.

“She’s gone.”

“Don, who? Who’s gone?”

“I should have taken her away when I had the chance. I should have known they would never leave her alone.”

“Don, you’re not making any sense. Who are you talking about?”

Donovan looked up, his eyes were streaked with red.

“Julia, she’s dead.”

“What? What happened?”

Donovan stared out through the window. “Hit and run. They plowed her down right in front of me, then drove away.”

“Oh Don, I’m sorry.”

“Police say it was probably a drunk driver, but that’s bullshit. They murdered her father, and when she went looking into it. They murdered her too.”

“Shouldn’t you be at home.” Walker picked up the almost empty half bottle of Jack Daniels Don had stashed in the trash receptacle. “This isn’t the answer.”

Donovan looked across at him. He seemed to be having trouble focusing. “You were right, your fairy tale isn’t a fairy tale, it’s the truth. They killed the Vice President to create a vacancy. And your golden boy is about to step up.”

“I wish I could prove that?”

“What’s proof? In this world they just make it up, and stick it out there.”

Walker recalled something that Tanya had said.

What it says, is what it is.

He looked out across the snow. It seemed so peaceful out there, but it was all just an illusion. He finally had someone who believed him, but it had to be like this. Someone else dead. How many more people would Viktor Polyakov kill to get what he wanted? But he knew the answer to that.

“Don’t worry, Don, we’ll bring down these bastards who took Julia away. We know who they are. They won’t get away with it. But first, why don’t I drive you home.”

Donovan was staring out of the window again.

“Did you ever do something that you really regret? Something that you buried so deep that no one could ever find it. So deep that you could even convince yourself it never happened.” He picked up the bottle and took a generous slug, then offered it to Walker.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough of that.”

Donovan continued staring out of the window..

“I never thought it was about you.”

“Don?” Walker wasn’t sure what he was saying.

“I never really thought about what would happen, never let myself. I just took the money. I never thought about it until you turned up.”

It was like someone was standing out to the side translating what Donovan was saying, as if just hearing the words had no meaning. It seemed like an age before what Donovan had just said dawned on him.

“Don?” Walker’s mouth was suddenly dry. He looked across at the man who he would have gladly trusted with his life. “It was you who told them?”

“Not on purpose, but it’s my fault.”

“What happened?.”

Donovan wouldn’t look at him, he just kept staring out through the window.

“You wouldn’t understand. You weren’t here, stuck behind a god awful desk in the basement. After all that I had given, the sacrifices, the risks, and the experience I brought, there was no room for me on the top floor. I was too much of a threat to them. Constantly passed over for all the jobs I should have had, was good enough to have. Passed over for some shmuck who had licked the right asses and wouldn’t be threatening to take his boss’s job.

“The rumor around the coffee machine in Langley was that you’d had some big windfall, a questionable windfall, but no one was asking any questions, and you were living the high life on some exotic island somewhere. And what did I have? A divorce that tore my heart out and left me with two tenths of fuck all, and a pension not worth shit. The old warhorse stuck in the basement, serving out his time. That was me, the office joke.

“Then suddenly I got my chance. One million dollars for an account and a password. As simple as that. Don’t ask any questions, just do it. What was I supposed to do? Julia and I deserved it. We deserved a second chance.”

Don seemed to be drifting in and out. His head kept dropping, as if he was about to fall asleep. Walker wanted to get hold of him and shake it out of him. Instead, he just said.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Donovan suddenly seemed to be wide awake. “I didn’t realize they were Russians, not at first. I was approached by a representative of a company called InfoQuest. They’re a somewhat infamous data gathering and analysis company, dancing on the edge of the black stuff. They said they wanted the inside scoop on Jake Tasker. Not that I had any of that. But they didn’t want specific details from me, they wanted access to the information, and they were prepared to pay top dollar for it. I figured it was time that my pension pot got a boost, and besides, we both know I wouldn’t piss on Jake Tasker if he was on fire.

“I have a number of anonymous access credentials I have acquired over the years. You know how it is, they come your way on some Op you're working on, and you store them away for a rainy day. So I gave them one, and they paid me handsomely for it. But you know me. I’m an inquisitive son-of-a-bitch. That particular access tracks every key stroke and transaction that takes place. Call it insurance. So I checked up on how they were going to screw Jake Tasker. Turns out they took only one file. A folder of files, really.”

“The Sterlings’ file,” Walker said.

“I’m sorry. But even then, I didn’t link it to you. I thought they were looking back on Tasker’s days at the CIA. In a strange way, I thought it might vindicate all of us.”

Walker’s mind was scrambling. This was how Viktor had got hold of the file, how he had managed to track him down. How they had been able to take Nikki. He looked across at Donovan. They were friends, more than friends. They were brothers in arms. They had protected each others backs back in those early days. Don had kept him alive. He knew he had to get past this.

“Robert, I’m sorry. I never thought. . .”

“Look Don, it’s done. It’s what we’re going to do about it that matters.”

Donovan fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his gun.

“Now Don, what are you doing?”

Donovan turned the gun around and thrusts it at Walker. “Here, take it, shoot me. You can make it look like a suicide. Do it now, I deserve it.”

Walker dropped the gun into the footwell. “Is that gonna help Nikki? Is it gonna bring Julia back?”

“If you won’t do it, I will.”

“No, you won’t. You’re not ducking out of this. You’re going to help me find out what’s going on. What this is really about. You’re going to help me get the proof I need to bring him down. To get Nikki back. Do you hear me?”

Donovan gave a vague nod.

“You said on the phone you had something for me. Start by telling me what.”

Donovan took a deep breath. He reached for the bottle but seemed to think better of it. “As I said on the phone, what you told me about Brad Colbert. I said it was a fairy tale, but after what they did to. . .” He seemed to struggle to say her name. “Suddenly it all started to make sense. I looked into the other things you were asking about. I got some bits and and pieces but mostly I got zip. Then I checked out the woman you asked me about. Lot’s of speculation but no hard facts. So I checked out that retirement home. That’s where it got interesting.”

“What?”

“Her monthly fees were paid for by an offshore company. I had a friend of mine over at the FBI do some digging. He wasn’t too happy with what he found, said I was dropping him in the shit. But he owed me. That’s what happens when you spend a lifetime in the field.”

“Don, you’re rambling.”

Donovan seemed to catch his train of thought again and grinned. “The company is owned by former Secretary of State, Bryce Colbert. Nothing unusual about that. Half the Senate has money squirreled away offshore. But he did give me a list of the directors. Of course, it’s a family setup. And at the top of the list is soon to be Vice President, Brad Colbert.”

Another piece of the puzzle slotted into place. Brad Colbert was paying Aunt Eleanor’s retirement home fees. The least he could do for the woman who had been almost a mother to him. Someone who had been the one constant in his life.

Donovan looked out of the windscreen as the noise of an engine approached. “Shit.”

Walker turned his head to see where Donovan was looking. The cop had returned and parked his bike in front of the car. He climbed off and walked towards them.

“Try not to breathe on him.”

Donovan wound down the window as the cop approached.

“Afternoon, officer. I’m an agent at the Central Intelligence Agency. I’d appreciate it if you’d get back on your bike and drive away.”

The cop wore a leather jacket zipped up against the cold, a peaked crash helmet and dark glasses. “Sir, I need to see some ID.”

Donovan pulled out his CIA ID card and handed it over. The cop took the card and turned away and spoke into a radio he had strapped in to his jacket. He turned back again and leaned in towards the open window.

“Thank you, sir.” He handed back the card with a gloved hand. As he reached out, the sleeve of his jacket pulled back and Walker caught a glimpse of a tattoo, a tattoo he had seen before, a large black scorpion.

Walker scrambled for the gun in the footwell, but Ivan’s other hand came into view, holding a silenced pistol. It was pointed directly at Walker.

Donovan let out some kind of yell and grabbed hold of the gun. At the same time, he floored the accelerator and the car shot forward. It crashed into the motorcycle and veered off to the side as Ivan clung on to the door. The weapon spit twice. Donovan’s body jerked under the impact.

Walker’s fingers wrapped around the gun as Ivan pushed aside Donovan’s body, still clinging to the door as the car plowed into a mound of snow and jerked to a halt.

Walker swung up the gun and fired. The bullet caught Ivan high on the shoulder. He let go of the door and dropped out of sight. Walker snatched at the door release and pushed open the passenger door. He tumbled out into the snow.

Walker scrambled to his feet as Ivan staggered to his feet and opened fire. He snatched the shot, and the bullet whined past Walker’s head. He realized Ivan was shooting with his none natural hand. But all professional shooters could shoot with both hands. He just needed to get his eye in.

Walker kept moving to the side and brought up his own gun. He knew Ivan would never talk. It was time to make a statement. He centered the weapon on the middle of Ivan’s face. He was talking no chances with a vest, and pulled the trigger.

The weapon slide jammed open.

Don, you son-of-a-bitch, when was the last time you fired this thing.

He scrambled for his own Glock tucked in the back of his pants. But Ivan was already getting his eye in. He fired twice, rapidly. A bullet tugged at the sleeve of Walker’s jacket as he spun out of its way.

The bank on the far side of the footpath dropped steeply away through the trees to where the headstones ran in neat white lines. Walker took a step across the path, then leapt, feet first, out into space.

His feet hit the snow bank first, and he slid quickly on to his back, letting gravity take him on a mad human toboggan slide, using his feet as a crude rudder to guide him between the trees, each bump shooting pain through the wound in his side.

He hit the bottom hard and pitched forward onto the snow. He scrambled to his feet, his fingers gingerly testing the area around the wound. It seemed okay for now. He glanced back the way he had come. Ivan was already crashing through the trees towards him, one arm hanging uselessly by his side.

Walker fumbled for the Glock in the back of his trousers. There was nothing there. His eyes searched the snowy bank. It was a pointless task. The gun was gone.

He took off at a run, zigzagging diagonally between the headstones. Ivan was shooting sporadically, but he was finally getting his eye in and each shot was getting closer.

Walker made it down to the road, then crossed and ducked into the trees at the far side. He cut in deep, trying to put as much of the wood between himself and his pursuer. He cut left and sprinted as best he could without colliding with a tree trunk. The ground dipped, Walker followed it down, then as it rose again, he ducked in behind a thick holy bush and squatted down, straining to control his breathing while his heart hammered against his chest.

He could hear Ivan crashing wildly about, but he couldn’t see him. He sounded like he was moving away. Walker desperately wanted to go after him but unarmed, and wounded, even with an injured Ivan, that was never going to work.

He set off in the opposite direction. This time at a steady jog trot. It was too risky to go back to Tanya’s car. He found a taxi at the bottom of the hill and waved it down, then climbed in.

He couldn’t shake the image of Donovan, lying across the steering wheel. As always, as he got one step closer, he was one step further away.

One step further away from Nikki.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

“Are you ready for this?”

Brad Colbert looked across at President Jake Tasker. The Commander-in-Chief looked handsome, dressed in an elegantly tailored dinner suit. A man with his hands firmly at the helm of the nation. Or that’s how the optics would show him. They were in the oval office. Everyone else had cleared out, leaving them to themselves.

“Sir, I’m ready.”

The President handed him a glass of twenty-year-old malt whiskey.

“Bastards out there will tear you to pieces at the first smell of weakness. I need you to stay strong.”

“I promise I won’t let you down.”

The President sank his scotch in a single swallow and placed the glass on the Resolute Desk.

“Okay, let’s do this thing.”

Brad Colbert drained his own glass and followed the President out the door and down the hall. At the bottom, the President turned right towards the press briefing room.

Brad heard the announcement as the President reached the entrance. It sent a chill through his body.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States.”

Brad hung back at the door as the President climbed onto the podium and looked out at the gathered press corp. Lights were flashing, and the press were on their feet.

The President looked directly into the TV camera, his face serious. He waited patiently until silence fell on the room.

“Members of the press, my fellow Americans. It is barely two weeks since we were devastated by the loss of a true American hero. That day, we lost Vice President George O’Connell, and I lost one of my closest friends. But George would be one of the first to tell us we have to move on. The needs of our country and of our citizens do not abate, and the government of this, our America, needs constant attention. And so today I am happy to announce the new Vice President to take up George’s mantle. Like George, he is also an American hero. He has served his country on the battlefield, was injured in combat and is a recipient of the Medal of Honor. A medal awarded to someone who has distinguished themselves at the risk of their own life, above and beyond the call of duty, in action against an enemy of the United States.”

The President paused to allow the impact to set in.

“This man has gone on to serve his country and his fellow Americans in the United States Senate, and with his wife, he has raised millions of dollars for many worthy causes.

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you welcome please, the next Vice President of the United States — Senator Bradley Colbert.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Someone was calling out to her. Alice awoke with a start. Some disembodied voice was saying something she couldn’t understand. It took a moment to orientate herself. Why was she sitting in a comfortable armchair, surrounded by people? And why were they looking out of the windows that ran down the entire far wall?

Her mouth was parched. There was a bottle of water on the table in front of her. She reached for it, then emptied half its contents down her throat.

She stood up and followed the eye of the watchers. Outside the windows was a mass of swirling white chaos illuminated in the airport spotlights. She turned and looked up at the flight departure screen. Against all the flights, was the word DELAYED. Suddenly the screen flashed and a new word rippled down against each flight. — CANCELLED.

There was a crowd at the reception desk. Voices were raised, people were turning away, their faces telling all. Alice finally fought her way to the front.

“The Delta flight to Fort Lauderdale? What’s going on?”

The woman behind the counter gave her a strained smile. “I’m sorry, ma’am, because of the extreme weather, all flights are cancelled until further notice.”

“But when will that be?”

The attendant gave her a strained smile and the message she had given out fifty times already. “According to the weather report, there is a chance we may have some abatement sometime tomorrow.”

“Sometime?”

The attendant persisted with the smile. “You will be booked on the next available flight.”

Alice walked away from the desk and called her sister.

“The flight’s cancelled due to bad weather. They’ve re-booked me on the same flight tomorrow. Hopefully, it will have cleared up by then.”

She could hear the disappointment in her sister’s voice. It had been far too long since they had seen each other. She hung up and headed outside the terminal. The chaos continued. The line for the taxis stretched all the way round the corner. It was an hour before she made it to the front and another hour before it dropped her outside her apartment building.

She staggered through the door, dragging her trolley bag behind her. The elevator stood, its door open, dark and abandoned. That was the second time this month it had broken down. She let out a curse and started up the stairs.

As she reached the first floor, something moved out of the shadows. Her face broke into a smile as Oscar greeted her. She picked him up and brushed her cheek against his furry head.

“Oscar, you have no idea how good it is to see you.”

Oscar let out a miaow.

“Are you hungry? Let's see if mommy left you some food.”

She opened the door to Tanya’s apartment using her spare key and switched on the hallway light. Something else moved out of the shadows in the hallway.

Alice held Oscar close to her as a bedraggled figure appeared. She had never met her, but she had seen all the photographs that Tanya had of her.

“Nikki?”

* * *

Across the road, the man in the white van was struggling to stay awake. He had been sitting there for the past four hours and now his bladder was protesting urgently. He saw the taxi stop in front of the building, but the woman who got out was definitely not the woman in the photo he had. He slid open the door and climbed out, then moved to the rear of the van. He glanced up and down the street. It was snowing hard now. No one was venturing out in this. He unzipped his jeans and relieved himself against the rear wheel. The relief was immense. He smiled at the pleasure and stared across the road at the apartment building.

They had worked out which apartment they were watching. Second floor corner unit. It took a moment for it to register.

The light had just come on.

He zipped up his jeans, then scrambled forward and slid open the passenger door. He nudged his sleeping partner. “Hey Lev. We're in business.”

His partner grunted as he came awake.

“What is going on?”

“Looks like she is back. You better wake him up.”

Lev glanced into the back of the van. He could make out the lumpy form of someone wrapped in a camper’s sleeping bag.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

He climbed into the back of the van and reached out to shake the figure in the sleeping bag. A gun thrust out of the darkness into his face.

“Do not even think of it.”

Ivan sat up in the sleeping bag with a silent grimace, his shoulder was heavily bandaged. He gingerly flexed his arm and shoulder, gritting his teeth.

“What?”

Lev gave a nervous laugh. “Across the road, the apartment. We have company.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

“Did you see her arrive?”

“No, but the light in the apartment has just come on.”

Ivan struggled out of the sleeping bag and began awkwardly pulling on his coat.

“Look,” Lev looked nervous again. “Me and Vlad can take care of it. Maybe you should rest up. The boss asked me to do this.”

Ivan fixed him with a steel eyed glare. “He asked you to find her. She is mine now.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Walker had the taxi drop him at Dupont Circle. He needed some space and time to think, but he also needed a crowd.

He couldn’t get Don’s face out of his head. They had been following him, and Don was too drunk to notice the tail. Where did this leave him? Don believed him, but what good did that do. Don was dead, like almost everyone else he had dragged into this thing. But beyond that he had nothing but a bunch of supposition, theories, no evidence, no concrete link to Brad Colbert. Okay, so he could pursue the question, why was Senator Brad Colbert paying the nursing home bills of a former KGB spy? But on its own, it was worth nothing.

He stopped at a diner and sat at the bar. He ordered a beer and a sandwich. His gut was a mess, but he needed to eat. The TV on the wall was replaying the news report on CNN of the announcement of the new Vice President.

The bar tender brought his beer.

“Hell of a guy,” he said, nodding towards the TV screen. “What we need right now. Tasker’s an asshole, about as useful as a one legged man at an ass kicking contest. But Brad Colbert, we served in the same unit. He’s the man to get the job done.”

Walker looked up at Vice President Colbert’s smiling face on the TV screen and nodded. He was right about that. But he didn’t voice his opinion. He concentrated on his beer. He called Tanya. The phone rang and kept on ringing. He looked at his watch. It would take at least two hours at this time to get out there. He was about to hang up and do it anyway when a voice answered.

“Tanya?”

“Who did you expect?”

“Are you okay? You took a long time to answer.”

“Sorry I was outside, and I left my phone in the house. I’m fine.”

“I’m sending you the name of an offshore company. I want you to look into it, and why it’s been paying the bills of a now deceased resident, Eleanor Birkhov. I think it’s going to be crucial in proving Brad Colbert’s involvement in this.”

“Yeah, about that. I was going to call you, but I had a few more things to check.”

Walker got the feeling he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “So tell me.”

“You remember what I said about nicely polished theories.”

“Not again.”

“I’ve been checking back on Brad Colbert’s life. Something had been bugging me about him, something I remembered from way back.

“He was a helicopter pilot in Afghanistan. We all know the story, famous politician’s son, fighting on the front line. War hero, Medal of Honor recipient. The story of how he won it was interesting. A helicopter from his base had gone out, taking a patrol of troops. It was shot down and ditched in enemy territory. Major Colbert flew out and picked them up under heavy fire, but he took a bullet in the chest as they were pulling away. Still, he got them all back safely, then collapsed. They rushed him into hospital. He needed blood, but he had a rare blood type. They had to get a donor from the States.”

“I don’t remember any of this.”

“You were hiding away on your Greek island. But it’s a matter of public record. His father, former Secretary of State Bryce Colbert, famously flew out to donate his own blood. They have the same rare blood type.”

She paused. Walker was struggling with the implication of what she just said.

“Bryce Colbert is Brad Colbert’s biological father. Brad Colbert can’t be Peter Sterling.”

The icy grip had turned into an ice cold rock in the bottom of his gut. Everything pointed to the Vice President. Vasili had confirmed it. Don had the proof. There had to be something they were not seeing.

“Maybe we’ve got this all twisted. You said that Helen Sterling was well connected. Maybe she was connected to Bryce Colbert, maybe they had an affair?”

“And their offspring was Brad, or was it Peter? You’re way out there now.”

“I’m clutching at straws here, help me out.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You were the one that told me the first rule of investigative reporting - Keep digging.”

Walker hung up the phone and looked at the bartender. “Bourbon, make it a double.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Tanya pounded away at the keyboard, then flipped from screen to screen. All her training, all her experience, told her to keep digging. She didn’t need her father to tell her. There was something in here. She had just taken a wrong turn. If she kept at it, she would unearth something, but when? And what?

She worked her way through the files her dad had given her. But the truth was beyond this. These were just potential stepping off points. She spent an hour chasing dead ends and then backtracking and starting over. Her phone bleeped. It was a message from her dad with the name of the offshore company he had told her about. She did some more digging. Her friend had given her access to a financial network. It saved her calling him every time she wanted some inside finance information. She found the company her Dad had mentioned. Brad Colbert was there on the director’s list. Her dad was right, the finger was pointing firmly at him.

Suddenly it was there, staring right at her. As if it had jumped off the screen and slapped her across the face. It seemed unbelievable she hadn’t seen it before, except then she hadn’t been blindsided by what she wanted to see.

Then came the dip after the euphoria of discovery, that deep empty feeling inside the gut, that voice crying out from within, the voice of reason, patiently telling you that this can’t be true.

She went back to the beginning, checking every aspect. Double checking wherever she could. Step by step, retracing her steps. Then at last she had it. Looking at it, in the cold clear light of hindsight, there it was.

This was too much for her head to take right now. She needed to let it settle, then look at it with fresh eyes. She would call her dad when she had it straight in her head. When she could even begin to believe it.

She went out through the kitchen door. She stopped under the stoop and bent her head to light a cigarette from her cupped hands. The boards creaked under her foot as she walked out onto the jetty. She zipped up her jacket against the cold, but somehow the chill felt good, as if pulling her back to earth. It had stopped snowing, but a thick mist had rolled in from out on the bay, making it difficult to make out the water beyond. It seemed like some unearthly nether world from which a dragon would suddenly appear.

And where was your knight in shining armor when you needed one?

The deck creaked behind her. She swung around. A man was standing at the entrance of the jetty. Where she had just come from.

“Who are you?” She called out, fear gripping at her gut. “What do you want? This is private property.”

The man didn’t answer. He just stood there, unmoving.

The drone of an engine seemed to echo across the water. She turned around, trying to identify its source. The man behind her had still not moved.

A boat nosed its way out of the mist. It was a big craft, the luxury kind, the expensive kind, like you would find at the yacht club further down the coast. The boat moved in closer, obviously heading for the dock. Its powerful engines rumbled into reverse and the water bubbled around its stern.

A man with a gray beard stood in the bow. He had his hand on the shoulder of a young girl.

My god, Nikki.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

Walker left the bar before he drank too much. He knew if he stayed any longer, he would step over the edge. The crushing defeat seemed to sit like an enormous weight on his chest. He was struggling to breathe. He knew it was stress, but maybe it was also a heart attack. The ultimate stress buster.

He couldn’t believe after all he had been through, after each discovery, he was here, with nothing.

No wonder Viktor had not responded to his taunt. I know about your boy. Yeah.

It turned out he knew shit.

His phone rang. He was expecting Tanya, but it was only more bad news.

* * *

He wound his way around town, making sure that no one was on his tail. He took two cabs and had the second one drop him at the end of the street. He approached, keeping into the shadows. There was no sign of surveillance, but that didn’t mean no one was watching.

He took the stairs, then unlocked the front door and switched on the hallway light. The door to the living room was wide open, casting the light into the room. A chair had been placed in the middle of the room that hadn’t been there when he left, and someone was sitting in it.

He reached for the Glock, then remembered it was out there somewhere, buried in the snow. He stepped into the room. The person in the chair was Alice, the nurse. The reason she was sitting in it was because she was tied to it with duct tape, which also covered her mouth. She wasn’t moving. Her blouse was open and even in the half light, he could see the cigarette burns on her body. He stepped forward and reached out to check the pulse in her neck.

“She’s dead.”

Walker spun around. Vasili gave him a humorless smile from the armchair.

“So how did you get here?”

“Do you not think with all my resources I could not find out where your daughter lives.” He nodded towards Alice. “It seems I was not the only one. She was dead when I got here but I don’t think she’s been dead for long.”

Vasili got up and walked over to the pathetic body of Alice strapped to the chair. “Someone took pleasure in doing this. Look at her, she would have spilled her guts at the first threat. But someone took their time doing this, anyway. Someone is leaving you a message. But what did she tell them?”

“Shit.” Walker pulled out his phone. There was only one thing she could tell them. Only one thing she knew about. He punched the speed dial number and waited for the phone to ring.

The bird sanctuary house.

“Dad?” Her voice sounded strange.

“Tanya? You need to leave. Right now.”

Another voice comes on the line. “Mister Walker. I think it is a little late for that. It is time we stopped playing games and had a little chat.”

Walker had only met the man once, but he knew who it was.

“Harm one hair on her head, and I’ll cut you into little pieces and feed you to that blood hound of yours - Ivan.”

“Now then Mister Walker, you’re in no position to make threats and Ivan here is more than a little upset with you.”

“What do you want?”

“I have someone else who wants to speak with you.”

There was a pause, then a voice came on the line that chilled his blood to ice.

“Daddy.” Nikki’s voice had a tremor in it. Then Viktor was back on the line.

“You know where we are. Come and visit us. And remember, if I see anything I don’t like, your daughters disappear, forever.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

Vasili sat beside him as Walker drove out of town, out towards the house in the bird sanctuary. The car was Vasili’s rental but Walker insisted on driving. He had to have something to do. He didn’t speak until they were almost there. They had discussed the plan back at Tanya’s apartment, now it was time to focus. About a half mile from the house, he slowed and pulled in under the trees.

Vasili climbed out and retrieved a long leather bag from the trunk. He slung the strap over his shoulder. Back at the apartment he had made a phone call, thirty minutes later a car had arrived outside. The driver had handed over the bag and driven away without a word.

“I hope you still remember how to use that thing.”

Vasili leaned back in through the window. “Some things you never forget. Stall them for fifteen minutes, then I will be in place and set up.”

“Am I still pinging?”

Vasili pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen. “There you are. I can find you in the dark.”

The item doing the pinging was stuck to the inside of Walker’s shoe.

“I hope this thing keeps working.”

“Russian technology. When it comes to surveillance equipment, we make the best. I got this from a friend in the FSB.”

“Good, because it’s pitch black out there. Remember, all you focus on is Nikki and Tanya. Take out anyone who is a threat to them. Forget about me, I’ll take my chances, just see that they are safe.”

Vasili held out his hand. “I was right to let you marry my daughter.”

Walker took the hand and smiled, though he felt a million miles from smiling. “I thought it was Maya who decided that.”

“Just try to stay alive.”

“Remember, we have one advantage, so don’t blow it.”

Vasili gave him a cockeyed look. “Remind me.”

“They don’t know you’re here.”

* * *

Walker drove towards the house. As he approached the turnoff, two men with assault rifles stepped into the middle of the road and flagged him down. One stood back with his weapon trained on Walker, while the other shone a light in his face and consulted what was obviously a picture of him. The man nodded and waved him on.

He swung in through the gate and drove up to the house. Lights shone from the windows, illuminating it against the dark backdrop of the bay. He parked the car and got out. Vasili had offered him a gun, but he knew they would only take it from him. He would have to improvise when he got inside.

Two men stood at the door, their weapons in plain sight. They stopped him as he reached them and patted him down. They looked a little disappointed when they found nothing.

He walked through into the living room. It was brightly lit. Viktor stood by the fireplace, a sickly grin on his face. Ivan was in the corner, his shoulder heavily bandaged and his arm in a sling. Tanya stood beside him, trying to hide the fear.

“You’re a long way from home, General.” Walker looked directly at Viktor. He remembered that was the way that Dimitri had always referred to him.

“I had important business to deal with.”

“Daddy.” A figure slipped out from behind Tanya and ran towards him. One of the men moved to stop her, but Viktor held up a hand.

Nikki leaped into his arms.

“Daddy, I knew you’d come for me.”

Walker’s heart pounded like a piston. All he wanted was to hold on to her and never let her go.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m here now.”

He walked over to Tanya, still holding Nikki in his arms, and wrapped an arm around her.

“Are you okay?”

Tanya gave a tight smile and nodded. Walker pulled her in close.

“Okay Mister Walker,” Viktor called out. “The reunion is over.”

Walker let Tanya go. But she clung on for just a moment, her lips close to his ear.

It was barely a whisper.

“We had the wrong child.”

Then the guard pulled her away. Walker was still trying to understand the significance of what Tanya had just said.

“So, Mister Walker.” Viktor looked pleased with himself. “What is it you Americans say. You have been a pain in my ass since I dragged you off that pathetic island.”

“I seem to remember you kidnapped my daughter.”

Viktor waved a hand at the two girls. “And now it seems I have both of them.”

“But it’s all coming apart, General. Do you think I have been running around in the dark? I know about your plan, about your little secret. Eleanor told me all about it. Do you think I haven’t told someone?”

“Who would you tell, Mister Walker? I believe that everyone you have told is dead.”

Walker didn’t allow himself to think about how true that was. Instead, he thought about the one person who he had told. Who was still alive, at least the last time he had seen him. They had said fifteen minutes. He had had more than that.

Where the hell was Vasili?

“So what happens now? Is this the part where you tell me how smart you’ve been.”

“I am glad you have not lost your sense of humor, Mister Walker. Unfortunately, there will be very little to laugh about from here on.”

Walker was thinking of a smart reply when he caught the sound. It came from outside, distant at first, then grew into the pulsing beat of a helicopter.

Viktor had heard it. Walker caught the troubled look in his eye as he looked across at Ivan.

“Did you call?” Viktor asked.

Ivan shrugged, but said nothing.

“What’s matter General, things not working out the way you’d planned?”

The sound grew as it flew over the house, then circled back. The throb of the engine became louder as it came in to land. Viktor said something, but Walker’s mind was caught up in the significance of what Tanya had said.

Sometimes you can get too close. You need to step back. He had been so convinced he had the answer, but Tanya had said, - We had the wrong child.

And he had the wrong fairy tale. He had been thinking Rip Van Winkle, when he should have been thinking Sleeping Beauty.

Suddenly he had a vision - the photograph from Eleanor’s secret stash. He was right when he had said Eleanor had told him their secret. It was sitting right there for anyone who cared to look. Two young boys in military uniform and a young girl. She was looking, not at the camera, but at the young Bryce Colbert, a look that said everything.

He looked up as she stepped through the door. It was obvious now, the girl in the photograph. She was pretty then. She was stunning now.

“Mrs Colbert,” Walker said as she looked directly at him. “Or what is it now - Second Lady? Or maybe I should just call you Irene Stirling?”

CHAPTER SEVENTY

Jennifer Colbert’s face broke into a smile that had captivated an entire nation. “I was named after my mother, Irena Karosova.”

She walked into the room.

“Quite a surprise.” Viktor greeted her and kissed her on both cheeks. “I was not expecting you. It has been a while.” He switched to Russian as he leaned in close. “You should not be here.”

It was no more than a hissed whisper, but Walker caught it anyway.

A fall out in the camp?

She kept on smiling and continued in Russian. “Do you think I would miss it, being here with him.” She swung around, looking directly at Walker. Her eyes were hard, like marble chips. She may look like America’s sweetheart, but Irene Sterling was looking out from those eyes. “I know you understand Russian, so let me use it. I feel it is appropriate for the occasion. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

Walker wanted to say he knew exactly how long, down to the day, but he said nothing.

“Mister Walker, you diligently followed my little trail of breadcrumbs. And I got a bonus, both your daughters. It will help to balance up for what you took from me.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Walker finally spoke, in Russian. “After all these years? A simple act of revenge. My daughter is thirteen years old, she had nothing to do with anything.”

Jennifer Colbert’s smile froze and for a moment, who she really was showed in her eyes. “The same age I was when my parents were taken away from me. You needed to feel some pain. Just like I had.”

“And you’ve carried that bitterness all these years.”

“You destroyed my family. You forced my parents to kill themselves and ultimately drove my brother to take his own life.”

“Do you really believe that? I’m sorry about your brother, but your parents were fighting a war. They made a choice.”

“A choice you forced on them.”

“Have you really thought about what I did, and what effect it had. All very convenient, don’t you think, to get you into the perfect position. After all, you were always Viktor’s grand plan, his long term strategy. What better way to implant you into American elite society than to make you an orphan, adopted by one of your mother’s influential friends. From there, a beautiful, intelligent woman just needed to position herself for the right man. And that happened early, your brother's best friend at the Academy. He had a secret. That’s what brought them together. They both had a secret.” Walker looked across at Viktor. “So how did you put pressure on the then Secretary of State.”

Viktor didn’t answer.

“What was it? Simple blackmail, a journalist on your payroll threatening to expose him. His career would have been ruined completely. Was it a surprise when he quit and acknowledged the boy as his son.”

Viktor shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. “No plan survives first contact with the enemy. You have to adapt. We applied a little leverage. You have to admit, things worked out rather well for him. He was never going to be President, but he is going to get the next best thing.”

“And is that what Matt and Helen Sterling were, leverage?” He looked across at Jennifer Colbert. “Have you ever asked yourself how I found out about your parents. I was stationed in Moscow and traveling on a train from St Petersburg, Leningrad, as it was then, back to Moscow. Someone came up to me at the bar and gave me a piece of information. Something that was your Uncle Viktor’s most closely guarded secret. Now, how do you think that happened? Was Viktor careless? Or was he playing chess, moving the pieces, and you were the queen, his most powerful fighting piece. You were always Viktor’s grand strategy.” He turned back to Viktor. “That’s true, isn’t it? It was never about Peter. Did you always know that he would be too weak? Did you help him on his way?”

Jennifer Colbert glanced across at Viktor, a nervous look in her eye.

“Ignore him, my dear. He’s just trying to get inside your head.”

“So you finally got me here, All the way from my little Greek island, all this way just so that she could put a bullet in my head.” He looked across at Jennifer. “What would your parents think? Did they sacrifice themselves for you, for this? Your parents were brave patriots doing what they believed in. I recognize that. We were on different sides, but I can salute their courage.”

“You forced them into doing what they did.”

“I didn't betray them. Someone betrayed them to me. Who was that? Was it the same person who murdered Eleanor?”

Jennifer flashed a hard look at Viktor.

“He is messing with your head. Nobody murdered Eleanor, she died of natural causes, you have seen the medical report.”

“You think he can’t manipulate a medical report. I was there, I saw her. Someone suffocated her.”

“Stop,” Jennifer shouted. Her face was pale. Suddenly, she was holding a gun. Her hand was shaking.

“Does your husband know?” Walker kept on pushing. “I suspect not. Because he is a patriot, a good and honest man. And you will betray him for this man.” He pointed at Viktor. “A liar, a manipulator. He knows nothing of honor. All he wants, he wants for Viktor.”

“Are you going to listen to him?” Viktor was looking directly at Jennifer. “He is just trying to knock you off balance. Don’t you think it is time to take a step back. You have what you want. If your are going to do it, do it now. Or I can get Ivan to take him out into the bay and shoot him in the head out there. It will be less messy. You can watch, then go back to your dinner with the President.”

“Shut up.” Jennifer swung around, pointing the gun at Viktor. “You think I didn’t know. Aunt Eleanor told me a long time ago. She had worked it out. It had to be you.”

Viktor was caught off guard for a moment, but only for a moment. “They understood the sacrifice. They knew what they had to do. I promised them I would take care of you. I did it for us.”

“And Peter? Did you promise you would take care of him too?”

“Irene, please. We have a plan. Everything is in place. There have been a few problems. We need to adjust.”

“I decide what happens next.” She was still pointing the gun at Viktor. And no one was doing anything about that. “It is up to me now, and I have waited long enough. You said it has been a while since we last met. Well, not that long. It is six months since we met in Vienna. Six months since we decided the time had come. And here we are. Tonight we take the next step.”

“You don’t have to do this. We just need to be patient. We adjust the plan as we always have. We need to let things settle down. Irene, we have waited thirty years for this. We can wait a little longer. I have already started making arrangements. At the next convention the President will announce he is stepping down due to ill health. Brad will get the nomination. I have all the pieces in place, and the people, to make that happen. For now, all we need to do is step back and wait. It will happen in its own good time. In less than two years from now, you will be the First Lady of the United States. Please, Irene, listen to me.”

“No, you listen to me. Things move ahead just as we planned.”

“Things have changed, in case you haven’t taken a closer look at our friend, Ivan.” Viktor gestured towards Ivan, displaying his bound arm and sling. “Courtesy of Mister Walker.”

Walker shrugged. “Sorry about that, but he was trying to kill me.”

“So we have no shooter, which means we are going to have to delay, anyway. I told you it was too soon. We need to take a step back and reassess.”

“And I told you, we have a finite time until the election. The longer we delay, the bigger the risk we lose it. We need a hero to step up now, when our dear President has so brutally been cut down by his enemies. By the time the election comes around, it will be a landslide.”

“My God.” Walker shook his head. “You're not happy enough to have your mole sleeping in the Vice President's bed. You want her in the White House. You're going to assassinate Jake Tasker and her husband will automatically become the next President.”

Jennifer gave a macabre grin. “Poetic justice. There is only one person I hate more than you, and it is Jake Tasker. He built a political career on the back of my parents’ death, claimed it as a victory.”

Viktor held up a hand. “It will take me a couple of days to bring in a new shooter.”

“No, no delay. I’ve waited too long for this. We have it planned for tonight. Everything is in place.” She turned to Walker. “We don’t need a new shooter. We have one. Mister Walker, I’ve been reading your file. Champion marksman at a thousand yards when you were at Quantico, cross services champion, two years running.”

“You have to be crazy.” Walker gave her a wide grin, though his gut was wound up tight. “That was more than thirty years ago.”

“Don’t tell me a man with a passion for something like that has let it fade away. I know you have been keeping your eye in. When Viktor’s people went to your house on that island, they found a professional rifle. A sniper’s weapon, or a competition shooter’s rifle. And your rewards. I guess you needed to hang on to the trophies you won.”

“And you expect me to shoot the President?”

“You heard what Viktor said about adapting. And as my husband is always telling me. Improvise, adapt, overcome.”

“And if I don’t.”

Jennifer half turned, brought up the gun and fired. Tanya spun around and collapsed onto the floor. Nikki screamed.

“No.” Walker rushed forward but one of Viktor’s men got in his way.

“Don’t worry,” Jennifer called out. “I’m an excellent shot. Just one in the shoulder. But she might just bleed to death unless you make up your mind.”

“How do I know you won’t kill them, anyway?”

“My issue is not with your daughters. I don’t do battle with little girls. The older one may bleed out before she gets help. But that depends on you. Do what I ask and the boat will drop them off at the other side of the bay.”

“If they promise not to tell?”

“Who cares? Their daddy shot the President. The new President’s wife made him do it. She’s a Russian spy. Sounds like a Q-Anon conspiracy theory. If fact, I can guarantee it will be. No one knows what the truth is anymore. Nobody cares.”

“And of course, I’ll already be dead.”

“Sacrificed for a worthy cause.” She glanced at her elegant wristwatch. “Time is running out and I have an important dinner appointment.” She waved the gun. “Take them out to the boat.” She looked across at Viktor. “And take him too.”

The one called Yuri stepped up and patted him down. Viktor shook his head but Yuri ignored him.

Jennifer shrugged and smiled. “You just have to pay more money.”

He gave her a look that said it all. “It is not just about today, don’t forget everything that comes after. I have the money, the connections. You still need me to make this work.”

“Alexi assures me we don't.”

Viktor seemed to reel from a physical blow.

Jennifer had a cruel smile on her face that transformed her beautiful face, revealing the hate that drove her. “Do you feel it, Viktor? Does it hurt — betrayal?

“Yes, your son and I have been talking. For quite some time now. By the way, he tells me that when you die he inherits everything.”

Walker looked across at Viktor “So much for your grand plan.”

Nikki helped Tanya towards the door. She stopped as she reached him. “I love you.”

One of the men stood between them. Walker had all on to hold it together. He gave her the best he could for a reassuring smile. “I love you, always.” He looked at Tanya, the pain was clear on her face. “I love you both.”

The man behind Nikki nudged her in the back with his gun, and they headed for the door.

Jennifer turned back to Walker. “Very touching. You go with Ivan or they die right now.” She looked across at Ivan and nodded, then headed out the door.

Ivan nudged Walker in the back with the pistol in his good hand. Walker walked out onto the dock. Nikki and Tanya had already reached the boat. There was no sign of Jennifer. He stopped and let his eyes wander, looking out, straining his eyes into the strands of mist draping the swamps. What was it that Jennifer has said. Improvise, Adapt, Overcome.

Vasili, where the hell are you, you son of a bitch?

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

Vasili was soaked and covered in mud. The chill seeped deep into his bones. He had waited until Robert drove away, then worked his way into the trees, getting well away from the road. He had swung around, following the direction the pinging blue light on his phone was indicating. Ahead was only blackness.

The ground beneath his feet was soft and marshy, and as he moved further in the direction of the house, the ground had turned to swamp. He slowed, testing the firmness under foot as he went.

The light from the house had appeared through the trees. It seemed tantalizingly close. He was wading knee deep and trying to find his way back to firmer ground when he had heard the helicopter. He saw its navigating lights as it maneuvered in to land. An important visitor.

Shit, he needed to be closer.

He staggered on, the mud oozing beneath his feet, sucking at him with every step. He put a foot forward. The mud turned to sticky liquid goo beneath it. He tried to back up, but his weight was already committed, and he went in and down.

He had struggled not to drown, tried not to let the dark filth into his lungs, panic rising in him as the black depths seemed to suck at his body. He thrashed his way to the surface, desperately holding on to the bag containing the rifle, and desperately hoping it was waterproof.

He had floundered his way out onto firmer ground, and laid there like a beached whale. The taste of salt and peaty bog, along with the stink, made him want to throw up. He resisted the urge. He lifted his arm and looked at the illuminated dial of his wristwatch. He had asked Robert for fifteen minutes. He had had more than thirty.

Vasili struggled to his feet and moved back towards the road until he felt solid ground beneath his feet, then turned and headed directly for the house. He didn’t need the tracker anymore. He could see it clearly, lit up like the house in the woods from some Russian fairy tale.

He moved in closer. The ground rose and flattened, then dropped away to the water’s edge. He had a good view across to the house, no more than thirty yards away, and of the dock out to the side. A large pleasure cruiser was tied up against it.

He knelt down and unzipped the rifle bag. A stinking black ooze spilled out onto the ground. The stink was already in his nostrils, but it seemed even more intense. He pulled out the rifle. It was coated in the stuff. He knew it would be clogged and useless, at least until it was stripped down and cleaned.

He looked towards the house as figures appeared out on the dock.

He had just run out of time.

He recognized Nikki. She seemed fine, but was helping a woman along. He assumed she was Tanya. Two armed men walked behind them. One of them herded the two girls along, the other held a gun to someone else he recognized - Viktor.

What the hell was going on?

He recognized the woman next, and the intrigue got deeper. She stepped out, then disappeared round the back of the house. Robert appeared next. Two men holding guns stood back a safe distance. They obviously knew who Robert was. One of them had an arm in a sling. He seemed to look directly at Vasili. Another familiar face — Ivan, the black scorpion.

Nikki and Tanya had already reached the boat and were stepping onboard. Viktor was close behind, followed by Robert. This was not the way it was supposed to be.

He looked up as the helicopter ascended from behind the house, then swung away to the south. He unzipped a side pocket in the rifle bag and removed a Glock 19, along with a spare magazine. At least they were dry. He stuffed them into the pocket of his ski jacket and zipped it up, then scrambled down the bank and waded out into the water.

Everyone had disappeared onboard apart from one man who cast off the lines. Vasili was already chilled to the bone, so the cold didn’t seem to matter. He looked up at the lights of the helicopter disappearing in the distance, then began to swim as the boat drifted away from the dock. A flat area of deck in the stern jutted out just above the water level. Convenient for divers and swimmers, and him.

He swam toward it as the water bubbled beneath him and the boat began to move. He grabbed hold of the metal rail and pulled himself in, then slipped onboard as the yacht picked up speed.

Everyone appeared to have gone inside. He climbed a short set of steps to the main deck. Ahead was the main cabin, which was in darkness, but there was a glow from what was probably the bridge beyond. He was conscious of how exposed he was out here if anyone wandered out for a quiet smoke.

There was a deck above him, but no convenient steps at this end of the boat. He climbed up onto the rail, running across the rear of the deck. He was able to reach up and grasp the stanchion of the rail on the deck above. He hauled himself up, straining with his arms. He was past sixty, but he still kept in shape, still lifted weights, and tonight he was on fire. He had something driving him — Nikki.

He pulled himself up and straddled the rail. In front of him was a flying bridge, the open air area to control the yacht. But tonight everyone was inside, using the bridge controls from the comfort and shelter of the deck below. Vasili stepped onto the deck. He unzipped the pocket of his ski jacket and removed the Glock. It was still relatively dry.

He couldn’t say the same for himself.

The chill was working its way into his bones. He gripped the Glock in both hands. He had to grip it tight to stop them shaking. He crouched down beside the rigid plastic container of an inflatable life raft. He was out of the chill of the wind, but he knew he had to get inside. He needed to get dry. He needed to get warm.

The mist was clearing as the yacht headed out into the bay. He could see the lights of other vessels out on the water. The coast was out there. Out to his right, the clustered lights of a small town danced in the distance, then more scattered lights extended along the coast.

He caught the scrape and bustle of activity down below. He edged forward and peered over the lower level of the guardrail. A man was doing something down on the swim deck.

He had dragged out a large, bulky black bag. He unzipped it and pulled out its contents, then continued to work away. Vasili heard the hiss of compressed air, and an inflatable dinghy appeared on the deck. When it was inflated, it was about eight feet long, extending beyond the swim deck, out over the water. Vasili could see what he knew to be a rigid inflatable boat, known as a RIB, preferred insertion craft for Special Forces and smugglers. Vasili had never been in Special Forces, but he had been a smuggler.

He sensed the yacht slowing. The water bubbled behind the stern and the craft came to a stop. The man on the swim deck pushed the rubber boat into the water and secured it to the rear of the deck, then dragged something out from the cabin behind him. Vasili could make out an outboard motor. The man installed it on the rear of the RIB just as three men emerged from the cabin and slipped down the steps to the swim deck. Vasili recognized Robert, one of the men held a gun to his back. Behind him was the man with his arm in a sling - Ivan.

They all climbed aboard the RIB as another man emerged from the main cabin in a hurry. He clattered down the steps as one of the men in the RIB started the outboard. It burst into life but instead of a loud clatter it settled into a suppressed hum. More technology used by special forces, and smugglers.

Vasili got a bad feeling as the RIB pulled away and headed in the direction of the coast. He did a mental calculation in his head. He went over it again to be sure. Assuming there was no other crew, and that seemed a reasonable assumption seeing as they were drifting in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay, only Nikki, Tanya, and Viktor were left onboard.

He looked out towards the RIB. Robert was sitting in the rear, looking back towards the yacht, as if he could see him. But Vasili knew that was impossible in the dark. But he knew Robert expected him to be here.

The yacht seemed to shudder beneath his feet as a suppressed boom sounded below him. He had to catch the rail to support himself. He looked around. The yacht seemed to be intact. He looked back down at the swim deck. The rear portion was already under water.

There would be no fire, no booming explosions waking up the night. They were scuppering the boat, sinking it nice and quietly, and his Nikki was still inside.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

Vasili headed forward onto the flying bridge. He reached the steps down to the main bridge, then stopped as the yacht seemed to judder and sink even more. He looked back. His eye caught something and he swore in his most gutter Russian. He dashed back and unclipped the container for the inflatable life raft. He opened it and pulled out its contents, then pulled the inflate tag and tossed it overboard. The life raft began to inflate as it hit the water. Vasili didn’t stop to watch.

He clattered down the steps to the bridge, then dashed through the door into the main lounge. It was deserted.

The deck was already canted to a thirty degree angle down by the stern.

“Nikki,” he called out as he dived for the stairs leading to the lower deck. The angle of the boat already made it awkward to negotiate his way down. He jumped the last part and landed up to his knees in seawater.

“Nikki,” he called out again. “Where are you? Speak to me,” he shouted in Russian.

He thought he heard a sound, it seemed to come from the cabin at the end of the passage. He splashed through the water and grabbed the door handle, turned it, and pushed. But the door remained shut. He kicked at it, but it was made of solid wood and the water was already restricting his movement.

“Nikki,” he called out, his face close to the door. He pushed his ear up to the wooden door. He was sure he could hear someone calling out.

He looked around, desperate to find something to help him. The water level had already reached his waist. Something on the wall further down the passage protruded from the water.

He struggled towards it, his feet sliding on the tilted deck below him. He was now wading chest deep and had to duck below the water level to reach what he wanted. His eyes were open, but he couldn’t see a thing, just a swirling fog. He felt his way along the wall. His fingers touched what he was seeking. He grasped it with both hands and pulled it free, then pushed back above the surface. He sucked in a deep lungful of air as he looked up at the fire axe gripped in his hands.

He made his way back along the passage. The angle of the deck made him have to climb. He had to use the rail on the wall to help him. But at least as the floor tilted up, the door of the cabin was still halfway out of the water.

“Nikki, hold on. I’m coming for you,” he yelled. He jammed his back against the passage bulkhead and shoved his foot against the opposite wall. He swung at the door with the axe, whacking it by the lock with all the strength he could muster. The door splintered but held. He swung again, giving it all the power he had. It connected with a satisfying splitting of the wood, but the effort took his feet from under him. He slipped back and dropped below the water, sliding down the slope of the deck. He tried to grab hold of something to stop himself and felt the axe slip from his grip. He tried to grab it, but it slipped away, lost in the murk of the sea water.

His fingers touched the rail on the wall. He grabbed a hold and pulled his head up above the water, panting and spluttering. He struggled forward. The angle of the boat seemed even steeper.

He reached the door. The level of the water was already above the lock. The passage was narrow, and he was able to get a hand on the rail on both sides. He swung at the door, striking it with both feet. He felt it give slightly, but the water was sucking out the power from the blow.

The water seemed to rise even quicker. Soon he would have no power in his kicks at all. He swung at it once more, exploding every ounce of energy into the kick. He felt the door give slightly, but as he forced a small gap, seawater rushed out from the doorjamb above the waterline and could feel the pressure holding it shut.

He held on to the passage rails, holding his feet against the door, pushing with all his strength as he tried to force open the gap, watching it grow wider as the pressure equalized. Suddenly, the door moved and swung open.

Vasili pushed his way forward, but the water took him and suddenly he was upside down and struggling for breath. He got a foot on the deck and pushed. He broke the surface. The ceiling was only a few feet above his head. He looked around desperately. Three heads protruded from the water against the far wall.

“Nikki.”

The one in the middle gave a desperate smile. “Grandpa?”

He floundered his way towards her and flung his arms around her, but she was unable to move.

“My hands are tied to something down there.”

He looked across at the woman beside her. She looked pale.

“Tanya’s been shot,” Nikki said. “She needs a hospital.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m okay.” Tanya tried her best to smile.

“Sorry. We haven’t been introduced. I am Nikki’s grandfather, but you can call me Uncle Vasili.” He tried an encouraging grin.

“Can you get us out of here?”

Vasili pulled his hand out of the water. He was holding a knife. “Just give me a moment.”

He ducked below the water level. He couldn’t see a thing and had to feel his way down. His fingers felt the plastic of the tie holding Nikki’s wrists to a rail on the wall. He quickly sliced through it, then moved across to Tanya. His head burst through the surface as the two girls were hugging each other.

“We have to get out of here fast.” Vasili looked up. The gap to the ceiling was considerably smaller than when he had come in. “This will be gone in minutes.”

He took hold of Tanya as gently as he could. Nikki was holding on the other side. They moved towards the door. Less than a foot of the doorway was above water.

“Vasili,” Viktor called out. “Don’t leave me here to die.”

Vasili grabbed hold of Nikki by her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

“There is a stair on your left. The deck above might still be above water. But you need to get clear of this boat before it goes down. When you get out, there is a life raft out there, swim towards it and climb on board. If you can’t get on, hold on until I come.”

“Where are you going?” Nikki pleaded with him. “Come with us.”

Vasili smiled at her. “I have to deal with Viktor.”

He bundled them through the doorway and turned back to the cabin.

“Viktor.”

“Vasili, don’t let me drown. We go way back, we were brothers once.”

Viktor’s head was barely above the water. It was splashing against his mouth as he tried to speak. Vasili had to swim to get to him. He still had the knife in his hand when he reached him.

“Brothers? You have betrayed everyone you ever knew.”

“Don’t let me drown. I will pay you whatever you want.” Viktor pleaded.

Vasili held the knife to his throat. “Oh, Viktor, you are going to pay. I promise you that.” He pressed in with the blade. A trickle of blood ran down Viktor’s neck and dispersed into the water. “Do you remember the last time I held this blade to your throat. I made you a promise. I told you what I would do if you had anything to do with taking my granddaughter.”

“It was just business, Vasili. I was never going to hurt her. I had nothing to do with this.”

“I understand Viktor. I have business too. Family business.” He thrust the blade up under his chin, pushing with all his strength until the hilt was already pushing up against his skin and the blade was deep into his brain. Viktor gurgled momentarily, then went still. Vasili left the blade there and swam for the door which was no longer visible. The boat seems to move beneath him. A huge bubble of seawater erupted from where the doorway had been. The cabin filled with blackness that seemed to suck him down.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

The RIB bumped across the waves as it sped across the water. The outboard should have been screaming, but with the engine noise suppression, it sounded more like a very long wheeze.

The one called Yuri was steering. Ivan was seated in front of him. Walker sat in the center, holding on, each bump threatening to throw him out. He considered taking a chance and jumping. He reckoned the RIB was going flat out. Maybe he would survive. But what would that mean for Nikki and Tanya?

He had tried to hang on to the image of the yacht as long as possible, but without any running navigation lights it had quickly vanished into the darkness.

What had happened to Vasili? He was supposed to be there for them. Were there more guards out in the woods? Or had this piece of junk in his shoe stopped working and Vasili was still out there, wandering around in the dark.

The RIB hit a wave and launched free of the water. It bounced hard as it landed. Walker took a tighter grip and held on. Ivan was obviously in a hurry.

They travelled for about thirty minutes. Walker was ticking it off in his head. You never knew when it would be useful. What he did know was, every mile was a mile further away from Nikki and Tanya.

He was still unsure where they were going. Jennifer, or Irene as he preferred to think of her, had said she was having dinner with the President. But where? They were hardly traveling to the White House in this. It had to be somewhere where a sniper shot was possible. But given the President’s security, those opportunities would be few.

He looked out across the water. They were traveling close to the coast now, far away from the yacht where Nikki and Tanya were being held. She had said they would be dropped off on the coast. Could he believe that? It was a question he didn’t want to answer right now.

The note of the outboard motor dropped. They were slowing. Walker looked up as they brought the RIB into a small inlet.

“Look for the light.” Ivan called out in Russian to the two men who were sitting in the front of the RIB looking towards the shore. “According to the GPS, our contact should be right around there.”

But Ivan did not point towards some rendezvous point, instead he removed a silenced Makarov from his jacket with his good hand. The weapon spit twice rapidly, striking each man in the back of the head. Ivan had obviously adapted to using his other hand.

One man disappeared over the side with barely a sound. The other was pitched over the bow, his arms dangling in the water. He appeared to be still alive. His head moved. Ivan scrambled forward and put his gun close to the back of the man’s head, then pulled the trigger. He stuffed the Makarov in his trousers and eased him into the water with his good hand.

Walker was still trying to believe what he had just seen.

“What’s the matter, Ivan?” Walker called out. “Is the boat getting too crowded.”

Ivan looked back at him but didn’t answer.

Walker turned his head to the other man left in the boat, with his hand on the tiller. He was looking directly ahead.

“If I were you I’d jump overboard right now, and start swimming.”

Yuri looked at Walker. His mouth broke into a grin. “Money split three ways, now only one.”

“Just hope you’re around to spend it.”

Ivan looked at his watch. “Dinner is about to be served. They are having roast rib of beef. Nice and bloody.”

“I would have thought you would eat it raw.”

“We have one hour. We will see who bleeds then.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

Tanya’s shoulder throbbed incessantly. The pain concentrated her mind away from the nightmare that had just taken place. But the image kept returning. The water erupting into a mass of swirling bubbles as the yacht had finally slipped out of sight, taking Nikki’s grandfather, her newly found Uncle Vasili, with it.

She couldn’t wipe away the vision of him flashing a grin at her before he had pushed them out through the door of the cabin.

They had made it to the upper deck, which was already knee deep in water. She was sure it would disappear at any moment.

Was it true that a sinking boat could suck you down?

She had seen the life raft fully inflated, floating twenty yards out to the rear. It seemed like twenty miles. Nikki had shouted something in her ear, then grabbed hold of her and they had leaped into the water.

The cold had almost paralyzed her. She struggled to even breathe. It was Nikki who had saved them. She had swum, surprisingly strongly, still holding onto her, then had got her into the life raft. That was before the enormity of it all had struck her.

One moment Nikki was all energy, then next she was still, gazing out across the empty water, no doubt the last image of the fast sinking yacht playing in her head, taking her grandfather, then she had collapsed in tears.

Tanya held onto her. She had sobbed into her good shoulder, but now she was quiet. The pain in her other shoulder still throbbed painfully, but the bleeding appeared to have stopped. Maybe the salt water had helped.

Uncle Vasili had saved both their lives. Minutes later, and it would have been too late. And now he was gone, after only knowing him for such a short time. Nikki had often talked about him in their Messenger exchanges. She always said how much he made her laugh, and how she loved to visit him in St. Petersburg, in Russia. They would speak Russian all day, all the time. Nikki said it had always made her feel Russian, and closer to her mother.

Nikki had given her the gist of what was being said back at the house. Translating as the one called Viktor and the golden girl, Jennifer Colbert, had argued. How her father had to go with them. They wanted him to shoot the President if he wanted to save their lives. Not that it had meant anything. They had tried to kill them, anyway. But her father didn’t know that.

Something bumped against the life raft. Tanya held onto Nikki. A hand seemed to reach up from the water, then an arm, then another. A bearded face appeared. It broke into a grin.

“Room for one more?”

Nikki seemed to wake up from her stupor.

“Grandpa.”

* * *

“Is anybody driving this thing?” Vasili looked across at Tanya. Nikki was cradled in her arms. They were both covered in silver thermal blankets from the survival kit he had found onboard. Nikki appeared to be sleeping.

Vasili had an identical blanket wrapped around his own shoulders, but he was still cold. He had laid there like a beached whale, letting the tide take them until eventually he responded to the voice screaming inside his head, that if he didn’t move, he would die. And so would Nikki.

He had found the survival kit and handed out the thermal blankets, then collapsed in the bow while he tried to get some heat back into his body.

He draped a hand in the water, feeling the tug of the current. He knelt up, letting his eyes sweep the night. A cluster of lights danced in the darkness, almost straight ahead. Vasili allowed himself a smile. The tide was coming in, sweeping them towards the shore.

He picked up one of the wooden paddles and knelt at the front of the raft. He thrust in the blade and began to paddle. For the most part, all he had to do was steer. The craft was being carried along on the tide much faster than he could paddle. He just hoped it didn’t turn before they landed, because all that was waiting for them in the other direction was the Atlantic Ocean.

He settled in and glanced back at Tanya. She appeared to be wide awake.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Your father filled me in on what he knew, but it would be good to hear it from your side. And besides, I have nowhere else to go.”

So Tanya told her story, reeling it out piece by piece from her journalistic mind, as if she was writing the story.

The life raft bounced over a wave. Vasili turned his head. The lights were coming on them fast. He dug in the with paddle, steering the raft away from the main cluster. No point announcing their arrival. The ocean seemed to want to have the last word. It picked them up on a powerful wave and thrust them up onto a pebble beach.

“Okay, time to go.”

Vasili helped Tanya out of the life raft. Nikki followed and tried to take her other arm. Tanya let out a yelp.

“Sorry.”

“I’ll be fine with Uncle Vasili.” Tanya forced a smile.

Vasili led them to an abandoned beach hut. There was a wooden bench outside. He sat Tanya down.

“How are feeling?”

“It’s still throbbing.”

“Here, let me take a look.” He unzipped her jacket and unbuttoned her shirt, revealing the top of her bra. “Forgive me.”

“That’s okay. I don’t care anymore.”

Vasili eased her shirt back over her shoulder. Tanya winced as he did so. The wound was a neat hole just below her collarbone. It had stopped bleeding, and the blood had congealed into a black mass, plugging the wound. He eased her forward and examined the other side. The wound was less pretty, but it had also stopped bleeding.

“It looks like you have been lucky. It is a through-and-through. It doesn’t appear to have hit anything of vital importance.”

“Except me.” She forced a smile.

Vasili unzipped his soaked jacket and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a cell phone.

“The man who sold me this for an exorbitant price assured me it was waterproof.” He tapped at the screen, then smiled as it lit up. He looked down at Tanya. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” Tanya called out, then winced as she jarred her shoulder. “No hospital. They will have to call the police and then what will we tell them. The Vice President’s wife has kidnapped my father and is forcing him to assassinate the President.” She shook her head. “Good luck with that one. We need to get back to my apartment. My friend Alice is an ER nurse. She’s in Florida, but I have a key to her apartment. She will have everything you need to patch me up.” She eyed him with a slight grin. “I’m sure you know how to do that, Uncle Vasili.”

Vasili’s mouth suddenly went dry. He could taste the salt from the seawater. Tanya looked up at him.

“What is it? What’s wrong.”

Vasili glanced across at Nikki. She was standing out on the beach, looking out across the water. He kept his voice down.

“Tanya, your father and I were at your apartment earlier.” He took a deep swallow. “Alice was there. I am sorry. We got there too late. They had got to her.”

“No, she’s in Florida. She’s gone to visit her sister.”

“Tanya, I am so sorry.”

“What, no, it can’t be. Alice only ever wanted to help people.” She shook her head. Tears were streaming down her face. Then suddenly she looked up, determination on her face. “What happened? What did they do to her?”

“Tanya, you do not want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Tell me. Alice was my friend. My best friend.”

“They tortured her, made her talk. I think that is how they knew where you were. Did Nikki tell you about what happened to her?”

“We were not left alone back at the house, so we didn’t have much time to talk. When Jennifer Colbert arrived, they were speaking in Russian, and Nikki translated for me. But that’s all, she’s not really spoken about the whole thing, and I didn’t push her.” She looked out towards Nikki. “It’s going to take a therapist to help her get over this. A damned good one.”

“In Russia, we have the best. I’ll take care of it.”

Tanya looked across the beach at Nikki. She was still staring out across the bay. “I’ll be there for her.”

“Speaking of still being here. I still have some contacts in this town.” He stood up and tapped into his phone. “I will get someone to take care of you.” He spent the next ten minutes making calls. Eventually, he hung up and gave Tanya a grin.

“All done. I have a safe house arranged. A doctor will be waiting when you get there to take care of your little incident, and maybe he can give something to Nikki. You both will be safe there.”

“But what about you?”

Vasili flashed his perfect white teeth. “I need to stop your father from shooting your President.”

“How will you find him?”

Vasili held up the phone. “Just a little something a friend of mine gave me. The other end is in your father's shoe. We put it there before we left your apartment. It was meant to guide me to your house in the bird sanctuary in the dark. But I think maybe, the least said about that, the better. It has a good range.” He tapped at the screen. “And according to this, he is not too far away. So I need to leave.”

“And if you’re too late?”

“Let us just hope I am not.”

A car arrived thirty minutes later. Vasili spoke to the driver, then helped Tanya into the back seat. He turned to Nikki and put his arms around her.

“You take care of Tanya. Your father and I will be back soon.”

He looked down at her. The words didn’t seem to register. He helped her into the back of the car, then had a few last words with the driver. He watched the taillights as the car disappeared.

The driver of the car had handed him a backpack and a few other items. Inside the pack was a change of clothes. He stripped off his sodden ones, then danced about naked in the moonlight while he dried himself off, then dressed in the dry, warm clothes. He checked the load of the Glock the driver had given him. He had lost the other one back in the ocean when he had discarded his jacket as he struggled to the surface. Then he handled the other item he had received. He ran his hand along the smooth barrel. It was a replica of the one he had dumped back at the house.

He walked for about half a mile before he reached his next destination. A small marina. His instructions had been clear. He had the pin code for the keypad on the security gate and the jetty number. The boat was a water skier’s craft. The key was under the bench. The engine started with a low rumble. He unhooked the line and took her out into the bay.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

The RIB moved up the coast, staying close to the shoreline. It had stopped snowing some time ago and a pale sheen of moonlight broke through the thin layer of cloud, illuminating the black sweeping waves of the bay. The navigating lights of other vessels seemed to dip and sway in the distance.

Was one of them the yacht where Nikki and Tanya were waiting?

But he couldn’t think about that. He had to focus on now. He had to find a way to save them.

A dark mass appeared out of the gloom. The engine note dropped and Yuri, the man who reckoned he was getting all the money, steered them in close to a sheer wall of rock with overhanging vegetation. The cliff fell away, and the boat turned into a small inlet overrun by trees and bushes. Yuri navigated the RIB into a small wooden jetty.

Ivan held the Makarov in his good hand and pointed it at Walker. “Out, tie her up.”

Walker did as he was told. The three of them stepped off the jetty onto a narrow path that twisted between the trees and encroaching vegetation. Ivan set out in front and Lev behind.

The path rose quickly, and in places, became quite steep. Ivan held up his good hand and stopped as the path leveled out. He turned around, still pointing the Makarov, and waved Yuri forward. Yuri hurried past and disappeared into the trees.

“Almost there, Mister Walker. You are about to make history.”

Walker wanted to give him a witty reply, but he couldn’t find one. Fear gripped his gut. Not for himself. He knew that Nikki's and Tanya’s fate would be decided in the next few minutes.

Yuri reappeared and waved them forward, then headed back into the trees. Ivan stood well back, pointing the gun. “Follow him.”

The trees receded, and they emerged into an area of thick grass. Yuri was already on the far side of the clearing. Ivan indicated with the Makarov, and Walker headed towards him. A small hut was tucked in beneath the trees and overgrown with brambles and bushes. There was a small door at the back. Yuri stood aside as Ivan entered. Walker followed him in.

Inside was dark, but moonlight seeped in through a long horizontal slit in the far wall. Two low, flat wooden benches ran down either side, another ran beneath the slit in the wall, this one covered in cushions like you would find scattered across a sofa. There was nothing else here. Walker knew about this region. He reckoned Tanya’s house was just along the coast. The entire area was a protected bird sanctuary. This was a birdwatcher’s hide.

Ivan moved in and knelt on a cushion, then looked out through the slit.

“Come, take a look.”

Walker stepped forward and ducked to look out through the slit. Trees and bushes ran out before it, falling away slightly before dropping out of sight. In the middle distance, moonlight reflected off the water. Walker knew they hadn’t turned around. They had travelled pretty much straight ahead. In the distance, maybe a thousand yards away, was land. They were on an island.

Lights glistened from a house close to the water’s edge. A sailing yacht was tied up against a wooden dock.

“One thousand one hundred meters, or one thousand two hundred yards, if you prefer. A medium difficulty shot for a man of your skills.”

“Do you really think I can make a shot like that, after all this time.”

“Please don’t be modest, after all, the lives of your daughters depend on it.”

Walker looked back out from the bird watchers’ hide.

“So what happens now?”

“Now we wait.” Ivan looked at his watch. “They’re probably on dessert. I hear it is baked Alaska.”

“You seem well informed.”

“As you know, we have a reliable source.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

“Excellent meal, my dear.”

Jennifer almost winced at the President’s reference, but she held her smile. She couldn’t let her loathing for the man show.

“Glad you enjoyed it, but I can’t take the credit. We brought in Max from the Piedmont.”

The table had been cleared and a fine Napoleon Cognac had been served in large cut glass snifters.

“Well, pass on my compliments.” The President took a sniff from his glass, then took a sip. He nodded in approval. He was still looking at her. “So are you ready?”

Jennifer met his gaze. “Should you not be asking Brad that?” Her husband sat across from her. The President was at the head of the table.

“I know that Brad’s ready, but we both need you to make this work.”

Jennifer fixed her smile. It came easier this time. “Don’t worry. I’m ready.”

The President looked across at Brad and grinned. “Wonderful.”

“Shall we take our Cognacs outside?” Jennifer said. “It’s a beautiful evening. A little chilly but the brandy will take care of that.”

The President looked at his watch. “My ride is picking me up in twenty minutes.”

Jennifer struggled to hold back the contempt for his little joke. The President’s six vehicle motorcade was already parked up outside. She swirled the amber liquid around her glass.

“Well, let’s make the most of it.”

Jennifer hunkered down in her thick sheepskin coat. She had a bright colored woolen hat pulled down over her ears. The bite of the evening seemed to remind her how good it was to be alive. After all this time, through all the pain and anguish. To be finally here on the edge of realizing her parents’ dream.

She took a sip of her Cognac, an excellent Napoleon. Appropriate, she thought. She let the rich flavor flow across her tongue and closed her eyes.

For Mother and Father - and for Peter.

She had to have the strength for all of them.

The President was standing next to Brad. Brad was talking animatedly, pointing out into the distance. She moved up and stood on the other side of the President, framing him in the middle. Brad was telling him about the bird sanctuary on the island across the narrow passage of water.

She looked across at her husband. Brad was a good man, a true patriot, someone who would make a truly great President. He was just the man to lift this country out of its vitriolic and divisive struggles, and give her back her pride, her dignity, maybe even make America great again. But she intended to change all that.

He was about to become the man who destroyed America.

She suddenly had a strange thought. If she were to die right now, the man she had shaped could eventually become that President, and would achieve exactly the opposite of what she and Viktor had been planning for the past thirty years. She looked into the distance. As if she was staring directly into her destiny.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

Ivan hunkered down over the sniper rifle. It was set up on the flat board that ran along the slit in the wall of the hide. Normally, this would be the platform for cameras and video equipment, but today it had a much more deadly purpose.

Walker recognized the Dragunov. It was the same model as the one he had found on the clifftop back in Narkos, the day this nightmare had begun.

“Here we go. Right on time,” Ivan said, his eye pressed up against the telescopic sight.

Walker could make out movement with his naked eye, out on the terrace at the back of the house.

Ivan made some adjustments to the sighting. The wind was slight and not gusting, so that made the set-up easier. He looked up at Walker. “Come on, take a look.”

He stood up as Walker got down behind the rifle.

“Don’t get too excited.” Ivan held up a single brass bullet. “It is not loaded yet.”

Walker pushed his eye up against the scope’s rubber eyepiece. Three figures came into view. Their faces were clear. He recognized Don’s old boss. The President of the United States. On one side of him was the handsome face of the newly appointed Vice President, on the other was Jennifer, Irene Sterling. She was laughing at something. He placed the center of the reticle on the President’s head. His gut told him these were perfect conditions. He knew he could make this shot.

“I think it is show time.” Ivan leaned forward and slid the bullet into the chamber. “You have one bullet. You know what will happen if you miss. I can assure you Yuri will not.” He nodded towards the Russian, who had his pistol pointed at Walker’s head.

Walker automatically worked the action. He pressed his eye back on the scope and adjusted his aim slightly. The cross hairs settled on Jennifer’s smiling face. All he had to was squeeze the trigger and it would be all over. His patriotic duty would be fulfilled. On the other side of the President, was a good man. He might not survive the aftermath, but a good man would always find his way back into the light.

He had a sudden vision of Maya. She had brought him back into the light. What would she choose? He knew she would always choose Nikki. He eased his aim back, settling the crosshairs on the center of the President’s chest. Maybe he was wearing a vest.

“Take the shot.” Ivan was crouched down beside him, looking through a pair of binoculars.

Walker took a deep breath and let it out slowly, gradually increasing the pressure on the trigger.

The dull spit of a silenced weapon carried flat through the still night air. Jennifer Colbert’s smile appeared frozen on her face as some unseen force pushed her backward. She seemed to stagger, then collapsed on the snow covered ground. Walker glanced down at his rifle. Had he just pulled the trigger.

“What—”

Ivan didn’t get the words out. Walker instinctively swung around and caught him on the side of the head with the butt of the rifle. He heard Yuri curse behind him. Walker rolled on his back as Yuri brought up his gun, trying to avoid hitting his boss. As far as he was concerned, Walker had an empty weapon.

Walker swung up the rifle and squeezed the trigger. His single bullet punched a hole in Yuri’s chest. He dropped to his knees, then pitched forward onto the floor of the hide.

Ivan grunted and scrambled for the Makarov he had dropped when Walker hit him. Walker dived on him, using the now useless rifle as a club. Ivan reached for the Makarov, but Walker got the butt of the rifle to it and flicked it away across the floor of the hide. Ivan swung around and head butted him in the face. Walker turned at the last moment, and the blow caught him high on the cheekbone.

Bright lights flashed in his head and Ivan wrenched the rifle from his grasp. Before Walker could orientate himself, Ivan was on him. He had discarded the sling and held the rifle in both his hands. He thrust it across Walker’s throat. Walker got both hands up to it, but Ivan was now on top, straddling and choking the life out of him.

Walker released one hand and threw a short knuckle punch at Ivan’s injured shoulder with all the force he could muster. Ivan let out a shriek but didn’t release his grip on the rifle. His mouth opened in a maniacal grin. He had blood on his teeth.

“I eat pain, Mister Walker. And just for the record, both your daughters are dead at the bottom of the Chesapeake.”

Walker wanted to scream. He gripped the rifle with what felt like superhuman powers and pushed. Ivan adjusted his position and got a knee onto the center of Walker’s chest and began to lean on it. Walker struggled to breathe. He looked up at the maniac above him.

Something glinted in the moonlight. Was this his final view of the world? An image flashed into his head. It was Ivan on the docks in Piraeus. Then another. The day he had killed Dimitri. He was wearing it both times.

He let go of the rifle with his right and reached up and grabbed it. The razor blade earring. He didn’t know if it was still sharp, but he ripped it clear and slashed hard at Ivan’s neck, aiming for the carotid artery. He felt the blade dig in deep. He pulled down hard and was rewarded with the warm rush of blood across his hand.

Ivan opened his mouth, but no scream came out. Blood sprayed across the wooden floorboards, black in the moonlight. Walker pushed him aside and left him clutching at his neck, desperately trying to stem the blood flow.

“Eat that pain, you son of a bitch.” Walker lay there panting for breath as Ivan finally stopped moving.

“Need any help in here?” A voice called out from the doorway.

Walker lifted his head. Vasili stood at the door, a high powered rifle in his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here? Tell me you did what you were supposed to do,” Walker yelled. “Tell me—”

“It is all fine.” Vasili held up a hand. “They are both safe and well, and staying with some friends of mine.”

Relief flooded through him like a flash flood, draining every last ounce of energy from his body. For a moment, he was unable to move.

“Are you good?”

Walker nodded and staggered to his feet. He took a deep breath and stood there, swaying.

“We need to leave,” Vasili said. “This place is going to be crawling with Secret Service any minute now.”

He followed Vasili out the door of the hide and back down the track to the jetty. Another boat was tied up beside the RIB. Vasili ran up to it. Walker grabbed his shoulder.

“We should take their boat. I think it’s faster and easier to slip away.”

Vasili looked back at the boat he come in on and smiled. “I hope my friend is insured.” He untied the boat then, still holding onto the rope, he stepped into the RIB.

Walker untied the mooring rope and jumped in behind him. He started the outboard and steered them away from the dock, clinging to the coastline as he opened it up. Vasili held onto the rope, pulling the boat he had arrived in behind them.

“Hopefully, the Secret Service will be concentrating on getting the President safe.” Walked called out. “It might just give us enough time to disappear.”

He waved an arm at Walker, who dropped the throttle on the RIB. As the speed dropped, Vasili swung around the speedboat, pointing its bow out into the bay, then gave it a push and the tide took it.

“Hopefully that will confuse the Secret Service for a short while.”

Walker watched it drift away.

“Do you think she’s dead?”

Vasili looked back at him and shrugged. “Trust me, she is dead. I made no mistake. The bullet hit her right between the eyes.”

“I would have shot him, you know. The President.”

“Then it is a good that I took control.”

“Was the revenge sweet?”

“Who said anything about revenge? Like I told Viktor before I shoved a blade into his brain. That was Russian justice.”

Vasili picked up the rifle he had just used to end her life and held the barrel to his lips, gripping it with both hands. He looked as if he was reciting a prayer. He stood up, balancing precariously, and swung it above his head, then flung it out across the water, watching it spin through the air, then dip into the bay with barely a splash.

Walker gave the outboard full throttle and the RIB surge forward.

“Can you not get any more speed out of this rubber duck?” Vasili sat forward in the bow and looked out across the moonlit water. “Where the hell is the fog when you need it.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

Three months later.

“Hey Dad, are you coming in? The water’s lovely.” Nikki called out to him, knee deep in the blue Aegean Sea.

Walker gave her a wave but stayed on his sun bed. Dad, he wondered about that. It used to be Daddy. He liked that. Was it Tanya’s influence or was she just growing up?

Still, Tanya’s influence was positive, and Nikki seemed to really appreciate having a big sister around.

Tanya had been with them for the last three months, ever since they had departed the US in a hurry. Vasili had organized a private jet. Someone owed him a favor. Nikki was in a bad way. She had retreated inside herself and didn’t speak, not even to Tanya, who never left her side. They had flown to Lyon in France, and from there had taken a roundabout route that Vasili assured him no one could follow.

They arrived in Lausanne, in Switzerland, where Vasili knew a therapist, a Russian, but with a private clinic in the town. He had greeted Vasili like a long lost brother. Vasili said they had history, and the treatment was on the house - another favor.

Nikki had spent a month as an in-patient in the clinic. Walker and Tanya had rented an apartment with a magnificent view of the lake and the mountains. It had been a kind of therapy for both of them, spending time together.

They had not said a lot at first, but gradually things had eased, and they would sit over long dinners in the little restaurant by the water’s edge, telling their stories. There was the odd tear here and there, but mostly it was smiles and often laughter.

At first, they were not allowed to visit Nikki, but after the first two weeks, they were permitted one visit a day for a short time. They would sit out in the beautiful grounds, with their breathtaking views of the icy blue, Lac Leman, and the snow covered mountains beyond. Vasili would turn up at least once a week, always with some soft toy, like he would give her when she was a small child.

At first she didn’t speak, but eventually she would say the odd word or two. Mostly about how people were treating her well, and how much she liked Doctor Petrovski.

After a month, she was allowed home. Where home was the rented apartment. At first, she would return daily for her sessions with Doctor Petrovski.

It was towards the end of the second week. They were sitting out on a bench by the lake in the bright sunshine. Tanya and Vasili had gone into town, leaving the two of them alone. Nikki was looking out across the water when she spoke.

“Doctor Petrovski says I should talk about it. About what happened.”

“You don’t have to. Not yet.”

“He says it’s part of my recovery.”

“Only if you feel you’re ready.”

“I want to tell you what happened.”

Walker had looked into her eyes, trying to work out if this was a good thing. “Are you sure?”

“Doctor Petrovski said it would be good for me.”

“He said when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.” She nodded her head. “I want to.”

Walker sat beside her on the bench and took her hand. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Nikki nodded. She told him how she had been taken, the boat and then the planes. She paused from time to time. Walker didn’t push her, just left her to come to it in her own time. Eventually she got to Viktor Polyakov’s yacht, and the lights on the shoreline.

“I had a plan. If only I could make it to the shore, if only I could get to Tanya’s place. I thought I would be safe there.”

She closed her eyes and took long, slow breaths. A technique Walker knew that Doctor Petrovski had taught her.

Walker squeezed her hand. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“I had my secret stash. You said I was only ever to use it in an emergency. I figured that this constituted an emergency. All my friends at school had their own versions, cash their parents had given them that they kept in a separate pocket. But I’m sure I was the only one with a father paranoid enough to put a credit card in her shoe.”

Walker smiled and they repeated together. “Only the paranoid survive.” They had both laughed.

Walker remembered he had slit a cushion sole inset and slipped the card inside. She only had to remember to move the insets as she changed her shoes, which in Nikki’s case wasn’t difficult because she had a pair of pink Nikes, which she wore constantly.

“Those men searched me but they never thought to look inside my shoe.”

She began the breathing technique again. Walker let her come to it in her own time.

“It was so cold out there, and dark.”

“You don’t have to do this.” He knew Doctor Petrovski had said it would be good for her to talk it out. But he still felt it was too soon.

“I’m okay.” Nikki nodded her head as if she was telling it to herself. “When I lifted my head out of the water, I could see the lights. I had to get there. So I just swam.”

Walker wasn’t sure who was feeling the most fear. Nikki or him. He squeezed her hand, and Nikki continued.

“I don’t remember how long it took, but I finally made it to the shore. I do remember staggering out of the water. I couldn’t feel my legs. I began running round in circles, trying to get warm. I think the cold had got to my brain because I finally realized I still had the plastic bags around my neck. They had done their job. The towel was dry and so were my clothes. I got dressed and started running to keep warm. I don’t know where the energy came from.

“I found a beach hut along the coast. The door was locked, but I smashed it open with a rock. Inside, I found a blanket and I must have been really exhausted because I fell asleep and stayed there the rest of the night.

“The next morning, I headed inland and found a road. There was not much traffic on it. But I was still afraid they would be out there looking for me. I started walking. I wasn’t sure which way the nearest town was and I had to duck out of sight every time a car appeared. But there wasn’t that much traffic and at least I wasn’t on the boat. I was free.

“After about an hour, the road came out onto a highway. Across the road was a gas station with a diner on the side.” She opened her eyes and looked at her father. “I had the biggest stack of blueberry pancakes with syrup and cream you’ve ever seen. The waitress was very nice. She asked what I was doing out there. I said I had gone to a party with some friends. That I had got separated from them and I had lost my phone. I think she had made up her mind about what had happened. I didn’t enlighten her. She asked if I wanted her to call my parents, but I told her I was hoping to stay out of trouble and got her to call me a cab.

“I remembered the name of Tanya’s building — Cherry Blossom Park. I always had a picture in my mind of what it would look like.”

“Did it look like it?”

Nikki smiled and shook her head. “Not a bit.”

“I saw a lady come out of the building and asked her if she knew Tanya. I said I was her niece. She gave me the apartment number and let me in.

“When I got to the apartment, there was no one there. So I waited in the dark. It seemed like forever before the lady appeared. She said she was a friend of Tanya. I thought everything was going to be all right. Then the men came. He was there. The one called Ivan.”

“I think that’s enough.” Walker put his arm around her and held her closer. “Don’t worry Ivan is not going to bother anyone again.”

“Did?”

He could see the fear in her eyes.

“I said that’s enough. How about we go into town and find us some pancakes?”

“They call them crêpes here.”

“What?”

“They’re called crêpes. Dad, I thought you were a man of the world.”

“I am, and I’m paying.”

Walker had worried about her, but she seemed to get a lot better after that, and Doctor Petrovski finally announced she could really go home.

Vasili arranged the transport. A private jet to Athens, a limo to Piraeus. Andreas was there to meet them and his son, with a high speed boat to take them back to Narkos.

It had been great to be home. Spring was here, and the sun was pleasantly warm, but not too hot. Niki had a Zoom call with Doctor Petrovski every other day, and every day she got better, every day she got closer to the Nikki he knew.

“Top up?”

Vasili pulled the vodka bottle out of the icebox between their sun beds.

“I’m good,” Walker said, as he watched Nikki and Tanya racing each other through the surf and laughing.

“You’re a lucky man.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“I see Jake Tasker has announced he will not be seeking a second term. Claims it is for health reasons. Speculation is, his ratings are so far down the toilet he might not even vote for himself.” Vasili grinned at his own joke and took a drink of his vodka.

“According to Tanya, who has been reaching out to some of her colleagues. It seems everyone is blaming him for Jennifer Colbert’s death. That the assassin was really aiming at him and she just got in the way.”

“Are they blaming my illustrious government?”

“Officially, they are blaming right wing terrorists, but there was the small matter of two dead Russians in the bird watching hide. Of course, details of that never saw the light of day, but word is, they are putting the screws on Putin. Speaking of your dear friend, how are things for you back at home?”

“I cannot complain. I was able to pick up a few of the late Viktor Petrovski’s assets at a very reasonable price. A few small enterprises, a little property. Especially after his sole heir was found floating in the river Neva with a bullet in his head.”

“So it’s not all bad.”

“The ebb and flow of life.”

“I prefer my ebb and flow to stay right here.”

“What about Brad Colbert? Is he going to throw his hat in the ring?”

“Not this time, from what I hear. But he’ll be fine. His time will come. A good man always rises in the end.”

“Dad, are you coming in?” Nikki came bounding out of the water.

“In a while, sweetheart. Your grandpa and I are just having a little chat.”

“Grandpa, you should come in too.”

Nikki knelt down in the sand beside her father. “I love you, Dad.” She took hold of his hand and kissed it.

“Wow, that’s a surprise. I love you too. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling good.” She held his hand to her face. She squeezed his hand. “I haven’t had a chance to say thank you.”

“Thank you for what? For bringing you home? I’m your Dad.”

“For finding me. For saving me.”

“Hey,” Vasili called out. “I had a something to do with that. I dived into the raging ocean with a dagger in my teeth and swam down to that sinking ship and cut you free. Then fighting off great white sharks, I swam to safety with you and Tanya in my arms.”

Nikki grinned. “Grandpa, it gets better every time you tell it.”

“An old man needs some memories.”

Nikki flashed a beautiful smile. “And I love you both. Now come on, the water’s lovely.” She got up and raced towards the water, waving at Tanya.

Walker stood up. “Fancy a swim.”

Vasili pulled the hat down to shade his eyes from the sun and balanced the vodka glass on his chest. “I think I’ll stay here for a while and ponder my good fortune.”

Walker looked out at his two daughters, laughing together as they bounded through the surf.

Vasili was not the only man with good fortune.

“Hey,” he called out as he sprinted towards them. “Wait for me.”

THE BOX SET OF THE ARMAGEDDON TRILOGY

If you’re a binge reader get the complete box set of all 3 books of the Armageddon Trilogy, including the prequel, The Journey.

The Simeon Scroll – The Ultimate Crisis for the Ultimate Goal. A race to stop a Global Holy War.

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The Final Pontiff – A secret that could tear the Vatican and the Catholic Church apart.

The Day of Wrath – A man on a mission, an avenging angel – from Hell.

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THE SIMEON SCROLL

The Simeon Scroll - The Armageddon Trilogy - Book 1

(Joe Fagan - 1)

The Ultimate Crisis for the Ultimate Goal.

The Imperium - The Shadow Government - A secret organization, behind the Government, beyond the Government, manipulating markets, controlling economies, orchestrating world events - cultivating chaos, and reaping the profits.

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Father Joseph Fagan, a priest with a question mark over his past, is asked to investigate the hit and run killing of a close friend of the Pope. But it quickly escalates into a series of ‘accidents' that take the lives of anyone asking questions. Which leaves Joseph Fagan squarely in the firing line.

Pope Salus I, Fagan's friend and mentor. A Pontiff reaching out to heal the conflicts and the wounds between all religions.

Dominic De Vaux, billionaire entrepreneur, and Golden Boy of the Imperium, following a plan to fulfill the Holy Bible's most devastating prophecy. Using an ancient scroll, he will tear apart the fragile relationship between Christianity and Islam, and plunge the whole world into chaos.

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The Final Pontiff - The Armageddon Trilogy - Book 2

(Joe Fagan - 2)

Father Paul Brennan is back in the Vatican, and he is on his way up.

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The story of the Armageddon Trilogy continues as Fagan and Frankie are hounded from their farmhouse hideaway in the South of France by a deadly group of religious fanatics, and pitched onto a desperate journey to discover what Brennan is hiding. It takes them to an ancient Priory on a windswept clifftop in Southern Ireland, and from there to the wild mountains of Bosnia. There they are forced to step carefully through the minefield of its war-torn history, on a quest to uncover a dark secret, buried for the last twenty-five years beneath the bones and memories of its painful past.

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THE DAY OF WRATH

Book 3 in the Armageddon Trilogy

The final chapter in the Armageddon Trilogy.

The Imperium, this time determined that their grand plan for a New World Order, will succeed.

Joe Fagan - A man on a mission, determined to stop them. An avenging angel – from Hell.

A Final Showdown, at a place where the three Abrahamic faiths confront each other face to face - Jerusalem, The Temple Mount.

THE JADE MOUNTAIN QUEEN

Joe Fagan - The Journey Continues.

What if the worst is worse than you could ever imagine.

Joe Fagan and Walter are hiding away (from their Armageddon Trilogy past) on a remote island in the Philippines. The region, along with much of the world is in chaos. China, no longer the sleeping dragon, is now wide awake, and a man known only in whispered circles as the Silent Mandarin is poking its belly with a very sharp stick.

A storm is building and sweeping through the international corridors of power, with far reaching consequences. The Silent Mandarin is determined to shake the world, but  his time is limited. He must act now but he needs help from a mythical Chinese Goddess who can give him the vital time he needs.

Fagan is trying to stay out of trouble, but sometimes trouble just comes your way.

When he is pulled into helping a friend, he finds himself in the dark underbelly of a Hong Kong that is about to explode, and comes under the unforgiving eye of the Bamboo Tiger, a powerful Chinese Triad gang. Time is running out for him and the ones he cares about, and as things escalate Fagan finds himself walking a tightrope between shady Chinese politics and underworld power, and between folklore and myth. With each step the situation moves from bad to worse.

But what if the worst is worse than you could ever imagine.

The Jade Mountain Queen, now available on Amazon.

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THE DOOMSDAY LEGACY

The Secret to the World's Salvation or its Darkest Nightmare

When his uncle, a retired CIA agent, turns up dead on a train in Eastern Europe, international war photographer, Mason Bradley is caught in the middle.

The Russian Mafiya and shady factions of the CIA believe the former agent was carrying something of vital importance. But where is it now? They suspect that Bradley knows the answer, only he doesn’t, and his only way to stay alive is to find it and use it as a bargaining chip for his life.

Bradley begins a journey into a shady world where money, greed, and deception, are the deadly currency in the battle for ultimate power, a world of dark secrets, where life can be snuffed out with the snap of unseen fingers. The action moves from the United States, through Europe to St. Petersburg, and the heart of the Russian Mafiya, then to the far north, to the frozen wasteland of Siberia, and a secret still kept long after the demise of the Soviet Union. Bradley struggles to stay one step ahead of his pursuers, as one by one, his every avenue of escape is closed.

But perhaps Mason Bradley has some dark secrets of his own.

Get a free copy of The Doomsday Legacy on Amazon by clicking on the link.

THE FOO SHENG KEY

The Middle East teetering on the brink of war and one man willing to push it over the edge.

A man with great wealth and power, prepared to plunge the whole world into chaos in the simple, selfish act of revenge.

And a twelve year old boy who stands in his way.

The key to a dangerous secret

Jai has a happy life as a novice monk in a Tibetan monastery, protected from afar by his mother, an important Chinese scientist. Until one day his happy life is shattered. Soldiers attack the monastery, killing all inside except for Jai, who escapes into the snow.

Jai, unknowingly, has become the vital key in a deadly secret, and his pursuers want him - Dead or Alive.

A deadly chase across the roof of the world

Jai finds himself alone in the vast mountainous wastes of Tibet, with the Chinese Security Service and dark factions of the CIA not far behind. But so also is his father, an American, a war battered veteran, who years before in an attempt to protect his family, walked away from his wife and son. Now he has to step out from his past, face his demons, and make one last effort to put things right.

Can Jai escape his pursuers and stay alive? Can he survive in the savage mountains of Tibet, and will he ever find his way home again?

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COPYRIGHT

January’s Child

Copyright © 2022 by Neil Howarth

All rights reserved.

The right of Neil Howarth to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.