Matthew Dunn - Slingshot

Exiting the building, he ran into the forest and sprinted close to its edge. He caught glimpses of the three white buildings. He’d reach them in one minute. Then everything would be concluded.

Fighting every instinct in his body to stop, roll over, and wait for help, Will kept crawling toward the buildings. He was forty yards away, but might as well have been four miles away at the speed he was moving. Dmitriev was there, waiting by one of the walls, looking left and right, no doubt trying to decide what to do. Will attempted to call to him, but blood entered his mouth and made him choke. Dmitriev moved.

No! Stay in sight and within handgun range.

But Dmitriev edged along the wall and then disappeared from view behind the building.

There you are.

Kronos darted between trees as he saw the old man hobbling into the forest while looking wildly around. The Russian hadn’t seen him yet. It wouldn’t matter if he did; he had no chance of escape. Silently, Kronos leapt over broken tree limbs and foliage, then slowed to walking pace. “Nikolai Dmitriev!”

The Russian spun around, terror on his face.

Kronos raised his gun and walked quickly toward the man. “You know who I am and you know why I’m here.”

Dmitriev opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Stand still.”

The Russian did as he was told. “Why. . why didn’t you shoot me?”

Kronos moved behind Dmitriev, placed the muzzle of his handgun onto the crown of Dmitriev’s head and the tip of his knife under his throat. “I may still shoot you, or stab you, or both.”

Dmitriev closed his eyes. “I won’t. . won’t beg for my life.”

Kronos moved his mouth close to the Russian’s ear. “I’d be disappointed if you did.”

Dmitriev opened his eyes, fear and confusion coursing through him. “Then what are you doing? You want to savor the moment before you do it?”

The assassin smiled. “You know that’s never been my style.” His smile vanished. “I want answers, but make sure you take great care to give me the truth. Lie to me, and I’ll kill you without hesitation. First-was my activation authorized at state level? Second-what is the secret that I’ve been deployed to protect?”

Dmitriev frowned. “They. . they didn’t tell you?”

“Just answer me!”

Sweat streamed down the old man’s face. “The surviving individuals present at the Berlin meeting are no longer in office, though that may change soon. That’s why I need to testify in ten days. I can’t let them assume power.”

“Was it authorized at state level? Testify to what?”

“No. . no. They’re acting in a private capacity to stop me from telling the world about Slingshot.”

Kronos moved his finger over the trigger. “Slingshot?”

“That’s the secret. It refers to genocide.”

In a flash, Kronos pulled Dmitriev closer to him so that the old man’s body was completely in front of his. “Lower your weapon!”

Will stopped crawling, his breathing labored, his shaking arms pointing his weapon toward the men. “Can’t do that.”

“Englishman?”

Will spat blood, didn’t answer.

“Will Cochrane?”

Mention of his name didn’t surprise Will. Schreiber would have supplied it to Kronos. “Let him go!”

“A silly suggestion.”

“Let him go. Otherwise I’ll put a bullet through Dmitriev’s head to get to you.”

“You’d have done that already if you wanted to.”

Will tried to keep his gun still, felt light-headed, wished he could see even an inch of Kronos’s face, had no idea what to do.

But Kronos did. “I kept you, your men, and Dmitriev alive for a reason. Be grateful for that, and try to establish why I did it. Good-bye, Mr. Cochrane.”

Kronos edged away from him, keeping Dmitriev firmly in his grip.

Will blinked fast. Make a nonlethal shot into Dmitriev to get the man to drop to the ground? Given his age, it could still kill him. Kronos could easily kill him.

The men moved farther away from him, into the forest.

Will’s mind raced. Why didn’t Kronos put kill shots into the team? Why didn’t he just destroy the plane midflight? There had to be a reason.

Answers.

That was it.

Kronos needed answers.

He watched the men disappear from view, lowered his gun, felt his head spinning, then lost consciousness.

Kronos guided Dmitriev deeper into the forest, stopped, took three steps away from him, and pointed his gun at the Russian’s head. “Turn around.”

Dmitriev faced him, a look of resignation on his face. “I thought it would end somewhere like this.”

The assassin was motionless. “Genocide?”

Dmitriev nodded. “Sometime after you pull the trigger, it will happen.”

Kronos narrowed his eyes. “I never trusted Schreiber. When he met me recently, I suspected that he wasn’t there with official authorization. Also, he gave me an instruction that I could never act upon.”

Leaving his family.

“I want to know every detail about the planned genocide. Based on that, I’ll decide whether to pull the trigger.”

Will felt cold hands hitting his face, a voice, something trying to shake him. What was happening? Where was he? Something felt really bad on him. God, it felt awful! Oh yes, gunshot wound. He opened his eyes. A man was leaning over him, talking. Couldn’t make sense of the words. Who was he?

Everything came back to him.

Colonel Nikolai Dmitriev stared at him. “He’s gone.”

“Gone?”

The old man nodded. “He said that he made the right decision keeping you and your men alive, that I needed all the protection I could get before appearing at The Hague.”

Dmitriev extended a hand and helped Will get to his feet. Wincing, and keeping his injured leg off the ground, Will placed a hand on the Russian’s shoulder and hoped the old man could take the weight. “You’re still under threat?”

“No. To Kronos’s knowledge, not from anyone else. And he made it clear that I need never fear him. He swore that he won’t come for me again.”

Will stared at the airport, at the distant wreckage of the airplane, and at the injured men that littered the place. He shivered, felt exhausted, every inch of his body in agony. He reflected on Kronos’s promise to Dmitriev. “Thank God.”

James was crouched beside Sarah in the Isle of Wight house, his arms around her, rocking her back and forth.

Alfie shouted, “What’s happened?”

James was in shock. “Sarah’s okay. We’re not. . not hurt. Kitchen. . kitchen. .”

Alfie’s heart pumped fast as he walked past the couple, his gun still held high, eyes narrow, sweat pouring over his entire body. Pausing to one side of the kitchen entrance, he ducked low and swung into the room. Bacon and sausages were burning in a frying pan.

So was something else.

Betty’s head.

Bullets had torn chunks out of it and had forced her dead body to collapse over the stove.

“Betty!” Alfie looked around urgently. No one else here. The fucking bastards had long since gone. His arms involuntarily swung down, and he dropped his gun and staggered toward his beloved wife. Tears running down his face, he started shaking. “Not my Betty. My dear, dear Betty.”

Kurt Schreiber lifted the ornate telephone handset and held it against his face.

“It’s done, Mr. Schreiber.”

“As I instructed?”

“Exactly. We did it in front of the sister.”

“Excellent. You and your men are to return back here.”

“You don’t want us to keep watching the others?” The man laughed. “Or give them a bit more of a shock?”