All three men stood. Hansen rolled back behind the doors, glanced down at the old lady, then heard the bartender cry, "Nadia! What's taking you so long?"
Hansen held his breath. If he could just stall the old man until Murdoch and his buddies left . . .
Footfalls drew closer.
Bratus called out, "Thank you, and have a good night!" The bartender responded in kind.
The front door opened.
And the back doors swung inward. The old bartender entered the storage room, glancing around.
Hansen took him from behind, drawing one of the old man's arms behind his back and wrapping a gloved hand over the man's mouth. Hansen muttered, "Don't struggle, and you'll be okay. Nadia is sleeping. Just wait for another minute. Don't move."
Outside, the car engines fired up. Hansen listened a moment longer, then suddenly released the man and charged out the back door and into the alley.
"Sergei? They're going to the airport. Come on! I'll meet you behind the petrol station."
Hansen raced as fast as he could along the walls, waiting for his runner to reply. "Sergei?"
8
KORFOVKA, RUSSIAN FEDERATION NEAR THE CHINESE BORDER
WHILEHansen was off on his glory mission, Sergei had driven around the front of the petrol station, as Allen Ames had instructed him to do. Sergei waited there for Ames and his taxicab tail to show up. When he arrived, the short man remained in his car and motioned for the cabdriver to turn around and head back to Vladivostok; then Ames parked under the awning, hidden from the satellite's prying eyes. He left his car, carrying a video camera and suitcase. He climbed into Sergei's Toyota and took a deep breath. "Hello, Luchenko."
"It's too late. He's already implicated Kovac. Grim knows. I did what I could to delay him."
Ames raised a finger and speed-dialed a number on his satellite phone. He waited. "It's me. Yes, sir. I'm afraid that's already happened. Yes, sir. I know what to do now, sir. I was already prepared." He hung up.
"What now?" asked Sergei.
"You didn't delay Hansen. You second-guessed yourself. I told you what we had planned for you in the NSA, and you threw it all away on drinking and whores and feeling guilty about your buddy, who is notyour friend, trust me. You don't have what it takes, and that's why you're not a Splinter Cell. I told them we were wasting our time on you. They didn't believe me. We gave you a second chance, and you blew it."
"Doesn't matter now. Nothing matters."
"Oh, you're wrong. I have new orders. Hansen's not just expendable. The boss wants him dead. I've brought money and a camera. You bring me the proof, and you get paid $250K." Ames opened the suitcase and showed Sergei the stacks of bills.
Sergei stiffened. "You guys were planning this all along. I wasn't just a mole. I'm an assassin."
Ames slapped shut the suitcase. "You wanted to be a field operative. Welcome to the big leagues. And you don't have a choice."
"As a matter of fact, I do." With that, Sergei had a pistol with a long suppressor jammed against Ames's head.
The little weasel didn't flinch. "What's the point? If you kill me, you're only delaying the inevitable. They'll find you."
Sergei began to lose his breath. "Why do we have to kill Hansen? He's just a rookie operative. A nobody."
"Kovac wants him dead. That's enough for me."
"Why?"
"Maybe to punish Grim. Maybe he thinks Hansen is Grim's pet. He's got it in for her. I don't know. I once heard him say that Grim was grooming Hansen to become the next Sam Fisher. Maybe that's why."
"If your boss wants him dead, you do it."
"I can't get close. If he saw me and I failed, it would ruin everything. They've got a lot invested in me."
"So I do your dirty work? What makes you think I won't talk?"
Ames chuckled under his breath. "Come on, Sergei. You're dealing with the most powerful intelligence operation on the planet. Even a man like you has one thing you love more than anything in this world: one . . . woman. And if that woman's life were threatened, you would do anything to protect her. Did you think we would bring you into our fold without knowing everything? When you're little people like us, you do what the big people say. And if they throw you a bone, you take it and run as fast you can."
Sergei began to choke up. His life had come to this. He was just a hired killer. A thug. And he'd been wrong. He had no choice. It didn't matter that Victoria said she no longer loved him. He would love her forever, and as Ames had said, he would never allow anything to happen to her. He could smell her now, her perfume, and he felt her long, blond hair brushing against his cheek and the smooth curves of her back as her lips opened slightly, warm and wet, to touch his.
If he did what they asked, the woman he loved would be saved. He would collect a quarter of a million dollars. And a man that made him green with envy would be dead.
Sergei lowered the pistol.
Ames nodded. "Here's the camera. The money comes back with me. Bring me the video. You tell them Hansen never came back. They'll find his body, it'll be another mess for Third Echelon, and we'll laugh our way to the bank."
"Hansen called. He's on foot. He was coming here, but he decided to double back to the airport."
Ames's smile evaporated. "What?"
"Hansen's been calling me. He's running over to the airport right now. The group's meeting there. Zhao says he has a surprise for them."
"This is . . . unexpected. We'll leave my car here. Drive!"
Sergei nodded and threw the car in gear. They roared away from the petrol station, and for a moment he glanced over at Ames and, with a shudder, imagined himself putting a bullet in the mole's head.
Maybe he would.
HANSENhad been running for about ten minutes, heading past groups of old houses whose icy roofs glistened in the night. He followed a rickety old fence that cordoned off an open field, and he suspected that the occupants of the two cars, well ahead on the road about a quarter kilometer to his right, couldn't see him. The airport lay farther northeast, not far from the water tower and another collection of buildings, the tallest of which was an old Eastern Orthodox church, the three-bar cross casting a deep silhouette against the gray clouds.
"Ben, Sergei's car has left the gas station and is headed toward the airport," reported Grim.
"And the other car?"
"Still parked there."
"Any idea who it is?"
"Trying to check now, but we didn't get a tag. He's got it under the awning, and we can't get a good shot."
"Why isn't Sergei answering me?"
"Not sure, and, quite frankly, I wouldn't trust him at this point."
"Don't write him off yet. Maybe we were being tailed, and he took out the guy. Maybe he's just got a problem with his OPSAT."
"From our end his OPSAT looks fine. Anyway, just get to the airport. We need to see Zhao's surprise. . . ."
"Roger that. I'm on it."
"And one more thing. Don't forget to breathe."
Hansen grinned to himself and jogged on across the snow. As he turned toward the church, the wind and swirling snow began buffeting him head-on.