He can see me? But how?
Justin raised his pistol and aimed it at the guard. Before he could pull the trigger, he heard a single shot. The guard plunged forward and fell face first into the snow. Behind him, Max lowered his AK rifle, walked a few steps toward the Lada, then shouted in English, “Justin, come out and let us talk.”
Justin fell back behind the spruce. Max killed the guard and now wants to talk to me. What’s going on? Is this a trap?
“Justin, I don’t have all night,” Max called at him. “I’m not going to shoot you.”
Justin struggled with his thoughts. Perhaps Max was luring him out of his hiding spot. But Max had shot the guard in the back. Well, guards were expendable, at least in Max’s mind. It was a cheap price to pay for recapturing Justin, and Max could easily blame Justin for that kill. What does he want? Why did he come back?
Justin crawled to the other tree and then to the next one. He readied his AK and stepped out slowly from the forest, keeping the AK pointed at Max, who was standing next to his Mercedes-Benz sedan. He had crossed his arms over his chest and there were no weapons in his hands.
“Max, you bastard.” Justin stormed toward him.
“Easy, take it easy.” Max lifted up his empty palms. “I’m unarmed. I got rid of the guard, so you know I’m not here to kill you.”
“I could have handled it,” Justin blurted as he stopped a few feet away from Max. Justin’s AK was still pointed at Max’s chest. “And I’m here to kill you.”
Max’s face formed a small grin. “You’re not going to shoot a defenseless man who came to your rescue. And you want the information I have about Carrie, Bashir, and his list.”
“Carrie? How is she? Where is she?”
“She’s well. She escaped a few minutes ago, leaving behind two dead guards. I… the FSB have no idea about her current location.”
If you’re telling the truth, she’s headed toward the safe house. I’ve got to check and confirm your story.
“You’re not lying to me?” Justin said.
“No, I’m not.”
Justin cocked his head to the left. “OK, but don’t talk to me about being defenseless. Was Becca defenseless when you shot her?”
“Hey, that was your fault.” Max stabbed the air with his index finger in Justin’s direction and took a couple of steps toward him. “I was just pretending to arrest you to hide my connection to the CIA.”
“Yeah, good one. I know you’re a double agent and you’re playing for the other team.” Justin lifted his rifle toward Max’s face.
“You’re wrong. I truly work for the CIA but I had no way of revealing it after you were caught. Derzhavin already suspects there is a mole in the FSB, and many agents are under constant surveillance.”
“But you’re not,” Justin said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“No, not yet. And you’re not listening to me. I know where Bashir is and I’m here to take you there.” He made a hand gesture toward the sedan.
“I don’t trust you.”
“You will have to trust me. Your other option is to try to find Bashir on your own. Eventually you’ll find him, I’ll give you that. But it will take you time and it’s not a safe bet. Not with the FSB and local police closing in. You’ll have to watch your back at every moment.”
“I’m used to that.”
Max sighed, then shrugged. “Listen, Justin. I’m trying to make things right. I can’t do anything about Becca, but I can do something about saving other innocent people. Bashir’s intelligence can help save them all.”
Justin hesitated for a moment. Max was saying the right words and conveying the right emotions. Does he truly mean to help me?
“Where’s Bashir?”
“Held in a detention center with other Chechen terrorists, about eight of them. I’ve got the address in my pocket.” Max lightly tapped the left front side of his black suit.
“Security?”
“About fifteen guards or so.”
“And you’ll get me in. How?”
“As a prisoner. You’ll be in the same cell as Bashir. You’ll collect the intel and the next morning you’ll be out.”
Justin shook his head. “Uh-uh. I’m not getting locked up again. Not if I can help it. See, Max, the FSB now has even more reason to hold me, because I’ve killed the guards, two FSB agents.”
“Wrong again, Justin, the FSB will not—”
His words were cut off by a low thud and a spatter of blood bursting out of Max’s chest. Max reached out toward Justin as if to take hold of him, then Max’s knees betrayed him and he toppled down to his left side.
Justin noticed a large bullet wound on Max’s back and knew he was already dead. But Justin was still out in the open, with no idea about the location of the sniper who had taken the silent, deadly shot. Justin dove to his right, rolled on the snow, and scrambled for cover behind the sedan. Expecting another shot, he stayed put, pondering his options. He could make a run for the forest and risk being shot by the marksman. He could fire back but he was unsure about the sniper’s hiding place. A third option was to retrieve the keys of the sedan from Max’s body and attempt a getaway in the car. He would still be exposed, at least for a few moments, but the likelihood of the sniper hitting him inside the fast-moving car was smaller than if he darted away on foot.
Justin glanced at Max’s body and tried to calculate the location of the sniper from the trajectory of the slug. It was difficult since Max was down, Justin had moved further away, and by now the sniper would have secured another firing position to frustrate any counter-sniper efforts. Justin tried to remember the landscape around him from the point of view of when he was standing face-to-face with Max. The sedan was parked at an almost ninety-degree angle to the narrow pathway snaking around the cabin. The pathway connected to the road to the left. The small, tree-covered hill further ahead was in a direct line of sight and at a vantage point, a perfect location for a sniper’s hiding place. So the sniper is probably to my left at ten or eleven o’clock. The Merc’s covering me, otherwise the sniper would have already taken another shot. Unless he’s not here to kill me.
The last thought gave him a spark of hope, but the hope was short-lived. Justin dismissed it as wishful thinking, certain that Carrie would not have had enough time to prepare the hit, set up position, then execute the perfect shot at that particular moment in the dimly-lit backyard. But if it’s not Carrie, then who’s the shooter?
Chapter Twenty-four
Justin was still considering his options when two strong headlights flooded the area around the sedan. The engine roar sounded like a large vehicle, perhaps an SUV or a truck. He edged to the front of the sedan, his body flat to the ground, his AK aimed at the nearing target.
The SUV was of dark color, recent BMW model. Justin leveled his rifle with the windshield and followed the BMW as it parked about fifty feet away, next to the Lada.
The front passenger door opened and a silhouette jumped outside. It moved casually toward him at a fast pace, without trying to secure a position. Judging by the shape and the size it looked like a woman or a thin man, but Justin could not make out the face. The silhouette held a long-barreled rifle over its shoulder in a relaxed position.
“Justin Hall, a pleasure to meet you again,” a calm, soft woman’s voice greeted him in English with a slight Russian accent.
Justin recognized her voice and her face, as the woman stopped a dozen or so feet away from the Mercedes-Benz. She was wearing dark blue camouflage pants and jacket.