Andy McNab - Battlefield 3 - The Russian

‘Tourniquet!’

‘Forget about me, soldier. It’s you who are done for. All of you.’

His eyes swivelled again. Blackburn pumped his chest, banging life back into him.

‘The suitcase devices — the nukes. Where?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘It’s not me you should be concerned about. I am history. The baton has passed. .’

Campo was on his knees beside Blackburn, stripping the plastic off a tourniquet. ‘He’s bleeding out, stop him talking.’

‘Try all you want soldier, whatever happens to me you are done for, my friend.’

Blackburn put his face close. ‘The other one who you were with, taking the nukes.’

He nodded. ‘Very good, yes. He will destroy you.’

Campo tried to apply the dressing. ‘He’s fucking lost it. He’s talking shit.’

Blackburn hushed him. ‘A name. Give me his name.’

‘His name is death, my friend.’ He coughed up more blood. ‘Sol-man.’

‘Solman?’

Bashir’s voice was now no more than a gurgling whisper. He used a breath for each syllable. ‘Sol. . o. . mon.’

After that there were no more breaths.

38

Vladimir leapt up and brushed some quake dust off the couch. Kroll offered her a cigarette. She draped herself across the beige leather: although she looked drained Dima noticed that she had refreshed her make-up. He wondered what she was hoping to get out of all this, presumably not a fling with any of this lot. Women like her made sure they went up in the world, not down.

‘The snow was very good. He even had a private ski-lift. It’s a protected area, for wildlife.’ She snorted. ‘He got special dispensation, a favour from the government. I think it once belonged to the Shah.’

‘And you’ve met him.’

‘Several times. Gazul always told me to be very nice, very attentive. “Whatever he wants to talk about, listen — like this”.’ She did a faintly sinister wide-eyed stare. ‘“Without him we are nothing.” That was his belief. I don’t know why, that sort of thing they never discussed in front of me. I thought it might be drugs. He always had plenty. One of his wives died of an overdose, his girlfriend told me.’

Dima was looking at Amara with a stare that was almost as intense as hers had been.

‘The place: describe it please.’

‘It’s well hidden, up a track that only a 4x4 can go, but also there is a helipad.’

‘Where?’

‘In the grounds. It looks like a Swiss chalet, you know, like Alpine, but it’s made of concrete and is cut’ — she made a chopping motion — ‘into the mountain. Kaffarov calls it his Kelsten something.’

She shrugged. Dima rose excitedly to his feet.

‘His Kehlsteinhaus . . the Eagle’s Nest!’

Everyone looked nonplussed.

‘So?’ said Vladimir.

‘Hitler’s secret retreat at the top of the Kehlstein mountain,’ said Kroll. ‘Built by Martin Bormann for his fiftieth birthday, cost: thirty million Reichsmarks. Only Hitler hardly ever stayed there.’

He and Dima looked at each other.

‘Because he was afraid of heights!’

Amara shrugged again. Some people had no sense of history.

‘Sorry,’ said Dima. ‘Go on.’

She shrugged.

‘How many guards will he have with him?’

‘I don’t know — some North Koreans, I think.’

‘The infamous Yin and Yang.’

‘They never speak. And some others who walked round waving their Uzis. Always guns, guns, guns, wherever you went.’ She shivered. ‘She said he always sleeps with one under his pillow.’

‘And?’

‘That’s it.’

‘We’re going to need a bit more than that,’ said Kroll.

‘Please think, Amara: how many floors? Where are the vehicles kept? Are there guards on the perimeter wall? How high is it?’

‘How would I know? I’m not a bloody tour guide. I just stayed there a few times.’

‘What’s she called, your friend?’

‘Kristen.’

‘Oh, yes, I remember now. She’s Austrian.’ Dima laughed. ‘An Alpine mistress to go with the chalet: he’s got the matching set!’

‘She doesn’t like to be called that.’

‘Whatever. Has she ever sent you anything? Directions? A map?’

‘Of course not. I always went with Gazul and he knows where it is. Knew.’

Dima wondered what she could make of her life now he was gone, but there was no time to think about that now.

‘Kristen is very sweet, always happy, never trouble. Gazul was always saying to me, “Why can’t you be like Kristen? Kristen is always smiling”.’

Dima frowned. Did she miss the guy or not?

‘Kristen is always smiling because she is always stoned all the time. Without her, those trips would have been bo- ring . We used to have a good laugh together. One time we — hang on, I’ll show you.’

She got up and opened the bottom right-hand drawer of the desk.

‘Here it is.’

She reached in and lifted out a white silk-covered photo album.

Vladimir, Zirak and Gregorin gathered round.

‘This may not be the best time for wedding snaps,’ said Zirak.

But it was something better than that: far better.

‘Oh my God. .’ said Dima.

She opened it: the first page showed several shots of herself and an attractive blonde, leaning out of the window of a turret, waving. Then page after page of holiday photos, taken by her and Kristen, and by the look of it some of the guards, showing the entire layout of the Eagle’s Nest.

The miserable widow had come good after all. Dima put an arm round her and kissed her.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘But not the rest of you tramps.’

‘Look,’ said Zirak. ‘She’s even got Yin and Yang.’

The two Koreans gazed self-consciously at the camera, their Uzis clearly in view.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Kroll. ‘It really does look like the original. Hang on a sec. .’

He put the scanner carefully to one side and rebooted the laptop:

Welcome to the Kehlsteinhaus . . it said. Historical landmark, Museum and Restaurant .

The two buildings were identical. Kroll looked round at them all, smiled and clicked on Map .

39

A door led from the kitchen to the garage. Kroll ran his hand over the hood of the black Chevy SUV with tinted glass.

‘Everyone loves an American 4x4,’ said Kroll. ‘If they have no taste. Maybe we could pass ourselves off as US Special Forces.’

‘It’s not exactly inconspicuous.’

‘Right now anything with wheels that isn’t an APC is conspicuous.’

‘I like it,’ said Vladimir. ‘It’s bigger than my old cell.’

Kroll opened a door.

‘It seats five easy.’

‘Six. Amara’s fleeing for her life with her loyal security detail: that’s us.’

‘Kaffarov’s going to buy that?’

‘He doesn’t have to. It’s just to help us get past the guards. She’ll call Kristen from the gate.’

‘How do we know she’s even there?’

Dima smiled.

‘Amara called her on Gazul’s satphone: she said to come right over.’

He looked at Gregorin and Zirak.

‘Anybody want to bail out?’

No one did. There was just one thought chipping away at the back of Dima’s mind: what did Amara want out of all this? And when the time came for her to ask for it, would he want to comply?

40

Camp Firefly, Outskirts of Tehran

A dirty orange sun was seeping through the smoke and dust over the east side of Tehran. Inside the tent, Blackburn faced his interrogators across a folding table. It was just gone 0700. He had been allowed three hours’ sleep before being roused for questioning.

Lieutenant Cody Andrews from the US Military Police Corps did the smiling. Captain Craig Dershowitz, Marine Intelligence, did the writing.