Adrian Magson - Execution

‘Adapt my arse. .’ Serkhov’s head snapped up at the sound of an engine. It sounded closer and lighter than any before. ‘What’s that?’

‘Probably a tender from the boat to pick us up.’

They both stood up, and it took a moment for both men to realise that the engine noise had come from the rear of the cottage, where they had left their car, not from the sea.

‘Fuck!’ Serkhov swore and pulled out his gun. ‘This doesn’t sound good.’ He stepped across to the window and glanced out. When he turned to Votrukhin, he looked grim. ‘Four men getting out of a car. They’re armed with machine guns.’

Votrukhin joined Serkhov, pulling out his weapon. He peered out and shook his head. The sergeant wasn’t exaggerating. It was no contest. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and four men with fully automatic weapons. Enough fire power to blow this rotten building off its foundations.

‘Whoever they are, they’re not here to tell us job well done.’ He paused, then did a double-take on the man in the lead, who was signalling his men to spread out, the way a good commander should. ‘Mother of God, I know that man. His name’s Brizsinsky, Breshevsky. . something like that. He was Spetsnaz. I heard he was in V Section.’

Serkhov looked relieved. ‘That’s good, isn’t it? It means we’re going home. Let the British try stopping us now.’ He stepped towards the door, eager to be gone.

But Votrukhin wasn’t moving. He grasped Serkhov’s arm. ‘Wait. You don’t understand. V Section ran special penetration operations. Fast in, fast out. Really high-level stuff. If they’ve been sent here, it’s not to pick us up.’

Serkhov frowned. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I heard V Section was closed down a few years ago, but a few guys were kept on for special duties.’ He nodded towards the outside. ‘Including Brizsinsky or whatever the hell his name is. Nobody knows where they’re based, and they work completely off the books. They’re ghosts.’

‘I never heard that. How come you know about them?’

‘I’m an officer. We hear things.’

‘What sort of special duties?’ Serkhov’s voice had dropped several notches.

‘They’re called cleaners. They make sure bad mistakes get buried.’

Serkhov stared at him for a few seconds as the implication set in. This wasn’t something Votrukhin would joke about. ‘Go fuck a goat. Doesn’t look like there’s going to be a boat after all, does it? Bastards.’ He ejected the magazine, checking the load by feel, then clicked it back into place. ‘ Now do you finally believe me? We’ve been stuffed.’

Votrukhin nodded. ‘Yes. I believe you.’ He turned and spat on the floor. ‘God, I hate it when you’re right.’

‘Never mind. I had to be at least once.’ He shook his head and spat on the same spot. ‘You think we’ll be heroes back home among the other guys, for what we did?’

‘For knocking off Tobinskiy, you mean?’ Votrukhin shook his head. ‘No, my friend. Nobody will talk about that, ever. They might pretend to miss us when we don’t turn up. . might even have a dinner at Tinkoff’s in The Arbat with the proceeds of the sale. But that’s about it.’ He was referring to the alleged custom of selling off a fallen comrade’s personal possessions if there was no family to consider. Neither Votrukhin nor Serkov had ever given time to such things as family. Not that either man had much to sell, in any case.

‘I thought that sentimental shit was for officers only.’

‘Not at all. It’s just that the rest of you scum can’t be bothered to celebrate our heroes.’

A few minutes passed, then Serkhov muttered, ‘I would like to have been a hero. So people on the base could point me out to new recruits and say, “There goes Sergeant Leonid Serkhov. He’s got the balls of a bull elephant.” It would have been nice.’

‘Are we talking about courage or size? There’s a difference.’

‘Sergeants can be heroes, too.’

‘I guess. But not often, because they’re mostly useless insubordinate bastards who prefer to get drunk. But it does happen.’

‘Up yours, lieutenant. We sergeants are the backbone of any army, hadn’t you heard?’ Serkhov reached in his pocket and took out the pink plastic powder compact he’d taken from the Jardine woman. ‘I won’t be needing this anymore, will I? Do you think pink brings soldiers bad luck? Is that what went wrong?’

‘No. But carrying that thing does make you look like a girl.’

Serkhov grinned. He bent and placed the compact on the plank where Votrukhin had been sitting. ‘Maybe she’ll get it back some day. The Jardine woman.’

‘Sure, why not?’ Votrukhin slapped him on the arm and took a deep breath. ‘Shall we do this, Leonid? Or should I call you Butch?’

‘No, Fyodor. I’m Sundance. You’re Butch.’

They walked to the door, guns held loosely by their sides, then opened it wide and stepped out into the night.

‘It’s over.’ It was Ballatyne’s voice echoing down the wire. He sounded tired. ‘Two bodies were found on the shore near Canvey Island late last night. The descriptions match our two Russians.’

‘What happened?’ Harry felt an odd sense of relief. He’d done enough chasing and shooting recently; all he wanted now was for this to end.

‘The locals heard a lot of gunfire coming from an abandoned fisherman’s cottage. One was a former armourer and recognised automatic fire. He called in some of Crampton’s pals. When they got there they found two dead and a lot of spent shells.’

‘It wasn’t your lot, then?’

‘No. This was an execution; the two dead men got off a couple of rounds each, but if they hit anyone there were no signs of it. A couple of dog walkers further back down the road remember two cars going by at separate times, but it’s a public road and popular with young couples. The cops are trawling any cameras in the area for footage, but they don’t hold out much hope. They’re writing it up as a gangland shooting, to keep the press happy.’

‘It’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? Why would the Russians eliminate their own people?’

‘Possibly to get rid of an embarrassing situation. If Gorelkin and his two hoods were operating off the books and without official sanction, no matter how high up the orders came from, nobody this side of the next ice age is going to say otherwise. We can’t prove who they were, and Moscow will deny any knowledge until the vodka runs dry. In the end it’ll be forgotten.’

‘And Gorelkin?’

‘Already gone. He was escorted onto a plane at Heathrow by two embassy security types late yesterday afternoon. He didn’t look well.’

‘You didn’t stop him?’

‘Why bother? He was here as a private citizen, and nobody wants to pursue a case of entering the country under false papers, which is all we’d get him on. We have to watch the pennies these days. In any case, my guess is he’s going back to a far worse punishment than anything we could dish out. How’s your neck?’

‘My neck’s fine. We were lucky. . they weren’t trying to kill us, just put us off.’ Harry was convinced that the ramming hadn’t been accidental. The timing had been too perfectly executed, when all their attention was on the car in front. It had taken skill, but even Bruce had agreed that it was possible, given the right training.

‘You still think that?’

‘I do. Any news about Paulton?’

‘He’s keeping his head down if he has any sense. There’s now a charge out on him for suborning a member of the security services to gain information under the Official Secrets Act, and the murder of the same individual.’