Russian Law (Law Series ) (Volume 1) (8 page)

Well
if that just didn’t suck.

Lucas
heard the telltale cock behind him of a gun’s safety being released. Lucas let
his pistol slide from his hand, holding onto it by just his index finger caught
on the trigger casing. He raised his hands to his head and turned around slowly
to face the MDV police officer standing there, his service revolver pointed at
Lucas’s chest.

The
man in blue and red spouted off Russian in rapid bursts. The words coming at
him full force. Lucas looked the man in the eye, wondering at the wisdom of his
plan. Wasn’t it written somewhere that when confronted with an angry dog never
to look them in the eye, something about looking down at the ground in a subservient
manner?

Too
late to change his mind now, might as well power on.

The
folks around here all seemed to think that every American was arrogant so he
might as well live up to the stereotype. Not that he wasn’t arrogant but he had
earned it by working hard and knowing with confidence that he could back it up
with his abilities. He spoke very calmly, never breaking eye contact with the
MVD officer.

“I
don’t speak Russian. I’m CIA working with the SVR. Call them and check.”

The
officer glared, his mouth curling much like the dead Alvin Pochenchov’s had.
This was obviously not Lucas’s day, did anyone in this country not despise an
American? The officer responded in a harsh voice, his English fragmented. “Put
your weapon down!”

Bits
of spittle flew at Lucas’s face as the man spoke. He was tempted to step back
out of range but he had no idea how itchy the police officer’s trigger finger
was. He didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. He didn’t want any bullet
holes in his body. Lucas knew he was up shit creek if he didn’t find a way out
of this mess.

“I’m
CIA. Check my coat pocket.”

The
officer made a threatening move forward. He spoke rapidly into his radio, most
likely calling for back-up. He would probably only have another five minutes
tops before he was arrested. He doubted the Russian court would rule in his favor
– killing one of their agents and all. A bad agent but he could hardly prove
that now could he? He would be lucky to make it to prison before being beaten
to death.

Well
shit, this was not good.

“You
have no jurisdiction here. You are under arrest and your status will be decided
after your case is reviewed,” the police officer told him.

Things
were going bad to worse. He had to get the fuck out of there. The officer came
towards him, handcuffs at ready. This would not do. Lucas sprang to life as the
officer moved even closer. He knocked the revolver from the officer’s hand
before raising his elbow into the man’s face, breaking his nose. The officer
grabbed hold of his nose, the blood gushing out. In a last ditch effort to
retain the suspect, he pulled out a knife from his blue and red uniform and
came at Lucas with the sharp dagger. He tried to move away as he was attacked
with the knife, the blade slicing the palm of his hand when he moved too
slowly.  Lucas used his foot to trip up the officer, knocking him on his ass
before escaping to the street and losing himself in the crowd of late evening
partiers and shoppers.

He
didn’t like to think it, but he was currently up shit creek. He wasn’t stupid,
he knew the Russian Government would convict him before they would even look at
their own. Everything was slowly falling together and he knew he had been set
up. Lucas wasn’t about to take that sitting down. Someone from within the
government was calling the shots and he wasn’t playing nice. Lucas knew he
needed help, needed to contact Jim and explain what happened and get Jim to run
interference with Director Mishkin while they organized his extraction. There
was nothing worse than being stuck in a foreign country with no bag and no
passport to get out. Both were in Elena’s office at SVR Headquarters in
Yasenevo. There was no way of getting to them without being caught and possibly
killed. He doubted he’d get a fair trial let alone given time to explain his
actions. Worse, he was without his gun, having to leave it in Pochenchov’s
nightclub as he made his escape. He was a dead man walking and he knew it - a
marked man. His ego wasn’t big enough to be bruised by admitting he needed
help. The life of a CIA Special Agent couldn’t afford such stupid frivolities.
He would take anything he could get. Only problem was where could he go for
help without fear of being shot?

He
crossed the street, moving at a brisk pace. He could hear the emergency vehicles
stopping outside Pochenchov’s nightclub and knew it would be all over the news
soon. He needed to get some place safe. Somewhere he could think and regroup.

An
image of Elena popped into his head - lovely Elena, all creamy skin and silky
hair, smelling of gardenias. He had never much thought about a woman’s perfume
but hers along with the rest of her had been a constant thought in the back of
his head. Even with the last couple of hours he had just endured, the thought
her brought a smile to his face.

Elena.

Lucas
knew he didn’t want to involve her. He would do anything not to have to drag
her into this mess he made. She didn’t need that and she certainly didn’t
deserve it. She was the only one who had helped him since he got to Moscow. But
she was his only chance. He only prayed she was who she seemed to be. 

He
pulled out the card she had given him from his coat pocket. Elena’s name was
written proudly on the front in Russian Cyrillic characters along with her
office numbers. He would only use them in case of emergency. He would like to
avoid that option if he could. Now that he had a starting point he was feeling
slightly better, the knot in his stomach stopped tightening inside of him. Next
stop was a phone booth.

Yellow
Pages was world wide right?

Chapter 7

Michael
Ducane smiled
when he heard the news of Alvin Pochenchov’s demise. He sat at an old oak desk in
a small farmhouse west of St Petersburg. He was glad the CIA Special Agent
finished him off. It saved him time killing the Russian bastard once his job
was completed and it got the special agent of his back for a while
.

Michael
knew he was the reason the agent was in Russia. Agent Zimtovich’s body had
obviously been discovered and now a full investigation was underway. He must be
extra careful from now on, make sure he doesn’t make any stupid mistakes. It
would also be a good thing to keep his head down low, at least for now until
the heat died down. He had no plans of being captured any time soon – if ever.  

It
was a good thing he had gotten the shipment from Pochenchov when he had,
Michael mused. He did not have time to find another weapons dealer. Especially
one that was so well connected. Despite Pochenchov’s slimy demeanor he had
certainly come through with the goods.

Ducane
cut the malleable plasticized adhesive of C4 into a large block, just small
enough so that it would go undetected but still large enough that it would
create quite the explosion. The C4, which was of  top quality was one of the
many items requested that had come from Alvin’s black market dealers, most
likely courtesy of the Russian Army.

The
C4 was made up of RDX explosive and plasticizer. The small compound was often
used in bombings including the 2010 Metro station bombings in Moscow. RDX is often
used in professional fields and is more powerful than TNT , gunpowder or
dynamite. In the past he had worked with all types of explosives, using
whatever he could get his hands on. Now he had the luxury of choosing even the
most expensive or elusive chemicals to create the type of devastation he
wanted.

Michael
set aside the block of C4, and started making his own recipe where he was able
to tweak the cocktail to make it a more concentrated explosion, adding it to
the already procured blocks. He cautiously poured out each chemical to the
precise measure, never more and never less, making sure none spilled onto his
gloves to burn his skin. With deft and knowledgeable movements, he mixed the
multitude of ingredients together as if baking a cake which he thought
absentmindedly as his entire attention was on the delicate work in front of
him, was exactly what he was doing. He gently stirred the combined chemicals in
a stainless steel bowl with a whisk and when he was almost finished, added Paraffin
to help to stabilize the explosive during transit and movement.

Once
the mixture dried it would be an off white color and would smell of sulphur and
should one have the need to taste it would be a bitter tang. Not that he would
be eating it and luckily for him had a escort past the guards and the dogs that
were trained to scent explosives – although that was not supposed to be an
issue, his contact having advised him that the scent dogs will be useless on
the day. He didn’t care how his contact accomplished this, only that it was
done by the time Ducane arrived.

Ducane
added the negative and positive wires needed into the block and tested the
signal from his remote to the metal panel attached to the C4. The light flicked
green, stating it was ready for a trial run before switching the receiver off.
He had done this many times before. He would have preferred spending more time
to perfect the solution before he was required in St Petersburg but time was
limited so he had to work fast. Had he been in America he could have used his
contact’s there rather than going through Alvin and his black market thugs but
he had to make do with what he had. Michael had decided to make the bomb from
scratch than buy something already made, first so he could guarantee it would
go off when he wanted it to and not before, not after or not at all. Second he
needed something that could go undetected through metal detectors and he loved
putting his own mark on his work.

Michael
Ducane picked up the white rectangle of C4 and took it outside. He stomped
through the thick snow that covered the ground and placed the charge inside the
nearby barn and set the timer for three minutes. He turned away and casually
made his way back the porch of the farmhouse and turned to watch the force of
the bomb as it exploded. He needed to make sure that the blast area was
sufficient. If not he would have to modify the quantity of RDX until it was.
The force of the explosion shook the farmhouse, the glass of the windows
rattling slightly before shattering. He nodded to himself as he took in the
fire that consumed what was left of the barn.

Michael
Ducane shivered through his thick woolen coat and long johns. Jesus this was an
unholy place he thought and vowed that this would be the first and only time he
would take a job in Russia. He didn’t like freezing his ass off in the middle
of nowhere. He stepped inside the farmhouse and shook off the snow from his
jacket, swearing as a snowflake fell down his shirt opening and slid down his
back. He had a little more work to do here and with any luck forty-eight hours
from now he would be on a flight to Canada where he would rent a car and drive
home through Canada’s limited border defenses.

Chapter 8

Elena
was dead
tired, after spending the evening in Director Mishkin’s office, being subjected
to his tirade about ‘that American’ and that he had better be apprehended
shortly and that the US had a lot to answer for sending a rogue agent to them, Elena
had been happy to see the back of his door. She had decided to work through the
rest of the night and finish up her reports and take the day off. The sun was
just beginning to rise above the tall buildings and she lifted her knees higher
to accommodate for the evenings snow fall.

God,
what had Lucas gotten himself into? she wondered. There was no way he was
getting out of this. If she was Lucas, she would be getting herself to the
nearest airport and flying back home. Let the Politician’s smooth over troubled
waters, that was what they were there for.

She
had walked to the Metro station in Yasenevo and boarded the train on the
Kaluzhsko-Rizhskaya line and headed home, after changing trains further on down
the line and walking in the early morning’s cold air, she was ready for a hot
shower and climbing into bed to fall into a long, deep slumber. She had gone
from being on top of the moon yesterday to exhausted and worried today.

Elena
made her way from the Metro station towards her apartment in Pushkinskaya, she
could feel the cold temperature seeping through her winter clothes as the day
promised to be a cold one, at seven-thirty it was only minus one point six
degrees, set to drop further throughout the day. A good day to stay at home
snuggled in bed with a good book and a steaming cup of hot chocolate, she mused
as she ambled up the stairs of the apartment building she had once shared with
her husband and finally reached her floor. She walked over to her door and
fiddled through her purse looking for her key.

“Don’t
you know you should already have your key ready before you get to your door?” a
voice asked her from behind. Startled she turned around and stared in shock at
Lucas, her hand resting on her chest above her heart in hopes to calm the
pounding organ.

“What
the hell are you doing here?” she whispered. “The entire SVR are out looking
for you. Not to mention the MDV. You are an extremely popular man, what in
God’s name were you thinking?”