Matthew Dunn - Sentinel

Sprinting toward the target, now no longer caring if he was spotted, he saw car headlights in the distance, racing down the street toward the pedestrian.

He heard Laith say over the roar of his powerful BMW, “I can see you and you can see me.”

The target stopped, turning quickly to face Will. Roger’s Audi A8 then appeared on the street from an alley on the left, screeching as it turned hard into the road barely thirty feet in front of Will. The target was now trapped between Laith’s and Roger’s vehicles. But Will sprinted faster, racing past Roger’s car, withdrawing his handgun, until he was fifty feet away from the target. He slowed, held his QSZ-92 high in two hands, and aimed it at the pedestrian’s head. The target looked left and right but remained in place.

Will walked right up to the target. “Korina Tsvetaeva.”

The woman took three steps back, looking terrified and confused. “Yes?”

Will marched right up to her, keeping his pistol trained on her skull. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

The GRU major looked toward Laith’s car, then over Will’s shoulder at Roger’s vehicle. “Then what do you want?”

Will smiled. “Your help.” His smile vanished. “But I will gun you down if you try anything stupid.”

Korina was dressed in a long fur coat and hat and was in her early thirties. She removed her hat, allowing her long black hair to fall onto her shoulders. Her eyes were still wide with fear, though when she spoke she seemed to be making an effort to control her emotions. “So the letter was a trick to flush me out.” She shook her head slowly. The wind receded, and snow fell gently over her face.

Will nodded, stepping right up to Korina. Lowering his handgun, he said quietly, “I mean you no harm. But we need to go somewhere private so that we can talk.”

Korina narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

“A friend of someone who’s important to you, someone who’s in danger.” He glanced at Laith. The SOG operative was on foot beside his car with his weapon trained on the GRU major. He looked over his shoulder at Roger and saw that he was in an identical stance. He called out, “Lower your weapons.” He looked at Korina. “We need to go.”

Korina shook her head. “No.”

Will silently cursed, aware that at any moment they might be spotted by a civilian in one of the adjacent houses or maybe by a routine naval dock patrol. He stepped even closer to Korina, placed a hand on her arm, felt her flinch, but retained his grip and pulled her body right up to his. He whispered into her ear, “My name is William Archer. I’m a British Intelligence officer. I know who you really are. You’re an MI6 agent. The man who’s been running you has been captured by a Russian special forces officer who wants to kill you and others like you. If he succeeds, your death won’t be the first. Several weeks ago, he infiltrated a naval base and murdered a submarine captain. That man was your father.”

It was ten P.M. Will, Roger, and Laith were in Korina’s tiny terraced house. The residence was barely three hundred yards away from where they had confronted her on the street. They were in her lounge, and the place was crammed with full bookshelves, had a small wooden dining table, one chair, a television that looked at least twenty years old, and little else. Korina had removed her coat to reveal jeans and a turtleneck sweater. She grabbed the wooden chair, spun it around, and sat on it the wrong way, with her arms resting on its back. After lighting a cigarette, she silently observed the three Western intelligence officers, who were perched on whatever they could find.

Will studied Korina for a moment, then nodded toward Laith and Roger while still keeping his attention on the GRU officer. “My colleagues are CIA paramilitary operatives.”

Korina looked at them and blew out a thin stream of smoke between her lips. “You look like killers.”

Will rubbed his cold hands together, then abruptly stopped doing so. “We’re hunting a man called Taras Khmelnytsky. Have you heard of him?”

Korina said nothing.

“You know who he is.” He nodded. “Khmelnytsky’s a colonel and the head of Spetsnaz Alpha. His profile will be well known to someone in your line of work.”

Korina continued to stare at Will, before asking, “He murdered my father?”

Will nodded. “Since then, he’s killed six other Russian MI6 agents. He’s got another three agents to murder. When that’s done, the world’s going to hell.”

He told her about Razin’s plan before asking, “You never knew that your father was an MI6 agent who worked for the same man as you?”

Korina shook her head; a tear ran down her face. “And my father never knew about my secret.” She wiped her face and composed herself. “Are you trying to trick me?”

“To what end? If we’re FSB, we’d have just arrested you.”

“Maybe you are who you say you are. But perhaps you’re not telling me the truth about the real reason you want Khmelnytsky.”

“You decide! But time is running out.”

Korina seemed deep in thought. Finally, she sighed and said, “For obvious reasons, I can’t take this to my superiors.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

She frowned. “Then what are you asking?”

Will leaned forward. “For Khmelnytsky’s plan to work, the explosion must look like an American strike. Are you aware of anything that the Americans are about to do that, if combined with a nuclear explosion, could spark war?”

“I-”

“Any briefings you’ve received? Information coming out of agents? Signals intelligence? Anything?”

Korina extinguished her cigarette, pulled out another, and froze. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

Silence.

“What, Korina?!”

More silence.

Then she spoke. “An intelligence report. Naval matter. Given I’m GRU navy, I was cleared to read it.”

Will spoke with deliberation. “What was in the report?”

Korina lit her cigarette with a shaking hand. “Three U.S. Ohio — class cruise missile submarines are going to be sailing in the Barents Sea.”

A sea that was above northwest Russia.

“Not unusual.”

“No, but this deployment’s different. They’re going to covertly enter Russian waters. Not too far, but just enough. We believe it’s the first time the Americans have tried this.”

“A training exercise?”

“The report came to no conclusion, though it did make one stark observation.”

Will waited.

“The cruise missiles have a maximum range of fifteen hundred miles.”

Will’s stomach knotted. “They’re entering Russian waters to bring them within range of Moscow.”

Korina nodded.

“This has to be the trigger.” Will’s mind raced. “But it doesn’t prove that Moscow is Razin’s target. The Ohio ’s deployment is a test sortie, I’m certain. It’s unlikely that a first strike against Moscow would be made by a cruise missile submarine-more likely a ballistic submarine from somewhere out in the Atlantic.”

Roger interrupted. “I agree.” The former sailor also seemed to be thinking fast. “But if war had already started, the Americans might use Ohio subs in the second or third strikes if they felt confident that Russia’s missile interception capability had been diminished. I think it’s a training exercise, just to see if they can get close enough if there ever is a need to hit Moscow.”

Will felt frustration. “Moscow’s not Razin’s target, because a detonation there will not convince Russian high command that it was an Ohio missile strike. While Russian air defenses are at peak performance, it just wouldn’t ring true to them. That means Razin’s target could be anywhere much closer to the subs. But that still leaves a vast range of possible targets.” He punched a fist on his leg. “Damn it!”