Chapter 38
Comrade Borisov and his men had remained in their seats after the commotion at the tavern. After all, they had nothing to do with it.
The police had come and gone. The place remained open. Half the patrons left, but the others, like the Russians, stayed behind late into the evening.
Borisov had come here for a meeting, and it wasn’t with the scruffy man who’d been described by the witnesses as running from the scene with a gunshot wound.
And while there was little chance the shooting had anything to do with his meeting, especially considering how the Chinese and Americans had run out the door after the man, it didn’t mean his contact wouldn’t show.
And when he did, Borisov would demand an explanation.
Three rounds later, his patience was rewarded. Limping across the tavern floor was the broad-shouldered man whom he knew as Ahab. “It’s about time you graced us with your presence.”
Ahab stood at the edge of the table, his fingers wrapped around the silver handle of the cane. “May I sit down?” he said. “My leg aches in this weather.”
“Sure,” Borisov said. With a wave of his hand, he directed the other men to move off into a shielding position, where they could keep others from looking and listening.
Ahab sat across from him, leaning the cane against the wall.
“I hope you brought us here for more than a box of junk and a show,” Borisov began.
The box of “junk” was a small container of parts from the C-17 that had been delivered to their table before the shooting. Some of the items were specifically identified as coming from the EAGL. Borisov had not been impressed.
“I thought you would appreciate a chance to study the material before we met,” Ahab said. “Are they not genuine?”
“Some of them appear to come from an American plane,” Borisov replied. “But that doesn’t mean they came off the missing one. And some of them…I’m not sure what they are.”
“I was told they come from the guidance unit,” Ahab mumbled. “Unfortunately, the only man who could confirm that is now dead.”
Borisov was not surprised. “The man who ran out bleeding.”
“He was one of the hijackers,” Ahab said. “A mission specialist who worked on the laser itself.”
“Who shot him?”
“He got careless and allowed the Chinese to see him. They tried to abduct him. He fought and one of them foolishly shot him in the stomach.”
“How do you know he’s dead?”
“The police radio channel is not scrambled. Ridley crashed the van halfway up the mountain. He bled out.”
“How do we know the Chinese didn’t get the location from him first?”
“Because the Americans beat them to it.”
Borisov didn’t need the simple truth explained any further. If anyone had the information, it would be the men from NUMA.
“That’s one hijacker,” Borisov said. “There must be others.”
“All dead,” Ahab insisted. “Ridley eliminated the others.”
Borisov’s face turned sour, but to some extent he was relieved. At least things had fallen apart before he transferred the inordinate sums the hijackers wanted. “It seems our quest is at an end.”
“Not quite,” Ahab said. “I’ve had Ridley’s phone for the past hour. He was not as careful as he believed. I located the plane on a frozen lake not far from here.”
Borisov was not moved. “And how does that help me? If the Americans know where it is they’ll surround it with a platoon of NATO soldiers and helicopter gunships.”
“I very much doubt that will be the case,” Ahab said.
“For one thing, the American in charge is a brash and arrogant sort of man. He has a history of acting on instinct and abhors waiting for approval or the marshaling of backup forces. Fearing the Chinese may know where the plane is, he will move the instant he narrows down the location. The overriding desire to reach the prize first—either to collect it or simply deny you and the Chinese access to it by destroying it—will be the rationale for his haste. But more importantly…the lake in question is on the border between your country and Norway. Depending on where you draw the line, the EAGL is almost certainly in Russian territory.”
A sort of awed silence descended over the table.
“The Americans would never send an army onto the lake,” Borisov acknowledged.
“Austin will go for it alone,” Ahab insisted. “Or perhaps with a small crew he trusts. With my help, you can meet him at the aircraft.”
Borisov warmed to the idea. If the plane was in Russian territory, he would be able to do as he pleased.
Encountering Americans on his side of the lake, he would be free to repel them as invaders or simply leave them dead on the ice.
“I suppose you’ll want the same outrageous payment the hijackers demanded. ”
To Borisov’s surprise Ahab shook his head slowly.
“The original deal died with Ridley. I would never have demanded so much. We’ve worked together before.
You know that. My fee in this would have been ten million dollars, but considering this particular American is the reason I walk with this limp, and this damn cane, I’ll take half that much, as long as you make sure he dies up there and does so painfully. ”
Borisov felt his chest swelling with anticipation.
Things had turned in his favor. All things.
All at once. Not only did he still have a chance to secure the plane and the laser inside it, but he could act under the cover of repelling American spies, and he could do so without risking his career (and life) by dipping into funds best left alone.
He imagined the payoff. If he could return to Moscow with the laser, if he could bring even part of the system home…A victory like that would see him rewarded with wealth, prestige, and honor, the likes of which few Russians had ever known.
He would get his men ready. He would draft a few extras from the trawler’s crew. He would make all of them understand the need to act with violence and fury, leaving no survivors to tell the tale.
“We’ll be ready,” he told Ahab. “Give me that location and we’ll finish the job.”