Scorpion: A Covert Ops Novel (Second Edition) (21 page)

“Where does Litvin
come in?” Avery asked.

“Recently, Belarus
agreed to repatriate quantities of its uranium to Russia for down-blending. GlobeEx
will transport the uranium to Russia’s Mayak Chemical Combine facility in the
Urals.”

And like the SA-24
missiles, the paperwork and numbers would be fixed and a cut of the HEU will
find its way to the Taliban, Avery thought.

“How did you
learn all of this?”

“My friend
Yuri,” Aleksa replied. “He is a Ukrainian journalist. He was forced out of
Ukraine under Yanukovych. He’s investigated GlobeEx even longer than I have. It’s
become personal for him. He uncovered Litvin’s illegal sales of RPGs and
landmines to the Lord’s Resistance Army in the Congo. After ignoring the death
threats and pursuing the story, he was assaulted by masked men inside his flat,
his computer stolen, and he was left for dead. He barely survived that beating.
He has excellent sources in Belarus and in the Russian exile community. He extensively
documented everything. This is going to be the biggest story of his career.”

“Can you put me
into contact with him?”

“I can try to
arrange it, but it is up to him if he wants to speak with you.”

“We might not
have time, Aleksa. It’s extremely important that I speak with your friend.” But
Avery knew that she wouldn’t be so easily convinced. Reporters were all the
same. He had to offer her something in return. “Look, if you take me to him
tonight, I’ll tell you everything I know about Litvin. I was there in Tajikistan
when his people made the transfer with the Afghans. Mullah Adeib Arzad was
there, too. If you help me, I’ll help you.”

Of course, there
were a number of conditions, which Aleksa would likely not be agreeable toward,
but Avery didn’t get into that now.

Aleksa dropped
her cigarette and ground it out beneath her heel as she considered the
proposition.

“I will take you
to him.”

Yuri Dzubenko rented a two bedroom apartment
in the Shabany district, on the city’s outskirts, which Aleksa said was Minsk’s
most crime ridden neighborhood. Instead of looking out for KGB and cops, they’d
need to be alert for muggers and drug addicts looking to finance their next fix.
Aleksa was staying with Yuri and said that she tried to avoid being outside at
night here. Except for the dirty, dilapidated tower block walls, poor lighting,
and the heavy industrialization of the area, it looked no different from the
other parts of the city Avery glimpsed so far. But nearing midnight, the streets
were empty, silent, and dark, and he thought he’d seen far worse in some
American inner cities.

Aleksa parked,
and then they walked three blocks to the three-flat brick building. Turning the
corner, she immediately noticed that Yuri’s lights were off and frowned. It was
still early for him, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about going out tonight. He’d
anticipated a late night writing and organizing his notes. She tried to
rationalize it and thought he could have received an urgent call  from a
colleague or source and left in a hurry—perhaps he’d left a note for her
inside—but the anxiety that something was wrong still lingered.

“What’s wrong?” Avery
asked. The change in her demeanor was apparent.

Aleksa didn’t answer.
She quickened her pace. Avery followed her up the porch steps, through the
front door, and up a set of steep and narrow creaky stairs to the third floor.  

The door off the
landing at the top of the stairs was unlocked and ajar, and this confirmed
Aleksa’s worries. Avery detected at once that something was wrong, but before
he could say anything, Aleksa called out Yuri’s name. No response came. Avery
was about to tell her to wait here, so that he could go in ahead of her, but
she had already pushed the door open and stepped into the darkness.

Avery went in
after her, his senses making the switch to combat mode. His hand instinctively
reached for the Glock, until he realized he’d left it at the motel. He stood
just beyond the doorjamb, but the darkness and unfamiliar environment made it
difficult to find anything out of place, and he waited, to allow his eyes to acclimate.

 A second later,
a light went on, and Aleksa stood near a lamp, seven feet away. Her mouth was
agape, and the color was gone from her face.

Yuri Dzubenko
was sprawled across the hardwood floor of the living room, on his stomach and chest.
His hands were tied behind his back. A plastic bag covered his head, with duct
tape forming an airtight seal around his neck. The plastic was pressed against
the contours of his face, some of it sucked into his mouth, while he had
struggled for air. His eyes were wide open.

Aleksa backed up
against a wall, staring down at her friend. Tears welled in her eyes. She
opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say became caught in her
throat.

Avery stepped
around the body, ignoring Aleksa for now, and swept the apartment, mostly to
make sure no one else was here and also because he wanted to avoid the tidal
wave of emotions from Aleksa, uncertain if he was expected to provide comfort
or reassurance and having no desire to do so.

The desk and
dresser drawers and closets were all opened, with their contents now strewn
about everywhere. Articles of clothing and pieces of paper littered the floor,
scattered around overturned furniture. Avery checked the bathroom and kitchen,
looked behind doors, and out the windows. Black footprints had dried on the
floor, the path ultimately heading out the front door. Avery was satisfied that
the apartment was empty.

He returned to
the living room.

Aleksa was where
he’d left her.

He crouched to
examine the body on the floor. He didn’t need to check for a pulse. Early
stages of rigor mortis had set in. The body had already emptied its bowels and
bladder, and its temperature had dropped. He estimated that Yuri Dzubenko was
three, four hours dead. Aleksa may have just missed the killers, when she’d
gone to the airport to meet Avery.  Given her reaction, he thought that this
realization wasn’t lost on her.

 Avery got up
and stepped in front of Aleksa, intentionally obscuring her view of the body.
The longer she stared at it, the worst off she’d be, not that it made much
difference at this point.  

“Aleksa, listen
to me. Take a deep breath. You need to look around and see if anything is
missing. I need you to focus, okay? Then, we need to leave here immediately.”

“What about
Yuri? We can’t leave him here like this.” Her voice was nearly a whimper. She
tilted her heard to look over Avery’s shoulder. He sidestepped a bit, to
obstruct her view once more. Her vulnerability made him uncomfortable, and he
had little patience for this sort of thing.

“Yes, we can.
There’s nothing we can do for him now, and the people that did this may still
be outside watching this place.” He allowed that to sink in, letting her know
that they were both in danger every second they stayed here. “Take a look
around. See what they took, and grab whatever you can carry, anything important,
especially anything that can be used by the police to identify you. We’re not
coming back.”

Aleksa finally looked
up and met his glare for the first time but didn’t speak.

“Do you
understand me, Aleksa?”

She finally
nodded and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. The focus and
drive returned to her eyes, replacing the distant, faraway stare, and Avery was
grateful for that and hoped it lasted. She stepped away from him and walked
around, appraising the ransacked apartment, rummaging through the closets, and moving
between the two bedrooms.

While he waited,
Avery walked along the walls and peered through the windows at the streets
below. There wasn’t a view of the building’s front entrance from up here, but
from what he could see, there was nothing unusual outside, and no activity. He
kept his ears open for the sounds of anyone coming up those stairs outside the
apartment. They’d be finished if two, three men with guns came through the
front door. He regretted his decision to leave the Glock behind.

When Aleksa
returned to the living room, she had a stuffed backpack slung over her
shoulder. “Our computers are missing. All of our work, everything was on them.
They took Yuri’s cell phone, too. But I always keep everything backed up on
this.” She held up a USB key she’d taken from her jeans pocket. “They would
kill for this.”

“Yeah,” Avery
said. He took a knife from the kitchen. “That’s why we need to get away from
here. Come on.”

He started for
the door, and when she wasn’t moving quickly enough, he reached back to grab her
by the wrist and gave a pull. He took the lead this time and instructed her to
stay three steps behind him and keep her eyes open and mouth shut. He closed
the door.

If an attacker
was indeed waiting, then stairs were a deathtrap, so Avery descended them
quickly and kept his eyes trained on the bottom. He paused in the foyer to look
through the window. The street and sidewalk were empty.

Avery opened the
front door and stepped out onto the porch. He swept his eyes immediately left
and then right, looking down over the railing. The dark spaces on either side
of the porch were clear, as was the street. There was no activity in the
windows or on the rooftops of nearby buildings. The silence stood out most to
Avery. There was barely a sound, not even an occasional passing car somewhere
nearby. The neighborhood was completely lifeless. He walked down the stairs and
at the bottom, without turning, raised a hand and motioned for Aleksa to come
out.

She stayed close
to his side as they walked back to the Siena. The three short blocks suddenly
felt like miles, and the rain abruptly picked up again, drenching them. As they
walked, Aleksa looked frantically around. When they turned the corner, she
jumped at the presence of a shadowy figure, and Avery tensed, too, but it was
only an old woman with an umbrella walking her dog, and they moved past her.

“You said the
Siena was Yuri’s car, right?” Avery asked.

“Yes,” Aleksa
said, having the same realization as Avery.

“Then they
probably know what car to look for. We can use it to get away from here, but we
need to switch vehicles soon as we can.”

Half a block away,
Avery could see the Siena now.

They walked down
the center of the street, not on the sidewalk. Problem was there were other
vehicles parallel parked in front of and behind the Siena, including a large
carpenter’s van that hadn’t been there before, making plenty of good hiding
spots.

Avery tried to
look for any unnatural shapes or shadows in the darkness through his peripheral
vision, because in the dark human eyes can more easily make out objects off to
the side than directly in front of them, but he saw nothing to raise alarm.

It was darker
now than when they’d parked here twenty-five minutes ago. Searching his
surroundings, Avery realized that the corner streetlight was now out.

“Give me the
keys,” he commanded Aleksa, looking around once more.

“What-”

“Quick. Just do
it, and get in the car.”

Aleksa produced
the keys and held them out for Avery, but it was too late. A looming figure
sidestepped onto the street in front of them from behind the large van. He wore
a ski mask, black pants, gloves, and a black sweatshirt.

Startled, Aleksa
jumped and stepped back, right into another black-clad assailant. She screamed
as an arm wrapped around her and pulled her close, but Avery didn’t turn around
to look. He’d already launched himself at the first attacker, throwing his
shoulder, with his full weight behind it, into the man’s chest, knocking him
off his feet and against the van.

As they
grappled, Avery caught a glimpse of the pistol, a silenced Makarov, in the
man’s hand. He rammed an elbow into his opponent’s solar plexus and grabbed his
left hand onto the attacker’s gun hand and directed the barrel away and off to
the side just as it spat a muffled shot into the sidewalk. Avery’s right hand
lashed out with the kitchen knife, burying every inch of the serrated blade
through the man’s throat. Eyes bulged behind the ski mask, and the grip on the
Makarov loosened. Avery ripped the pistol out of the man’s hand and spun around.

While this took
place, the second attacker had already produced his own gun, and Aleksa gripped
his wrist with both her hands, struggling and thrashing. But her opponent had
nearly a foot on her, was twice her weight, and easily overpowered her. He
backhanded her across the face, knocking her onto the street. Her head bounced off
the wet pavement. Her vision blurred, and she felt on the verge of blacking
out. A booted foot pressed down against her ribs, holding her against the
street. She looked up and saw the hazy image of the masked man angling his
pistol less than three feet from her face.

Avery fired the Makarov
twice, tapping the assassin above his ear. As the man collapsed, Avery turned
around at the sound of movement.

The other attacker
lay on the street, gasping for breath, holding onto the knife handle jutting
out of his throat. He stared up at Avery with pleading, watery eyes. He tried
to speak but was unable to produce a sound, coughing and gagging on his own
blood and the blade that was lodged through his windpipe.  Avery shot him once
in the head. Then he held the Makarov two handed in front of him and threaded a
path around and between the parked vehicles, tracking for more targets—finding
none—and came back around in the street to Aleksa.

She sat slowly
up, disorientated and dazed from the blow to her head. Avery reached a hand out
and pulled her up onto her feet. Her balance was off, and he steadied her. She
had a bleeding scrape where her forehead struck the pavement and the shocked,
haunted expression of someone who had just stared up helplessly at the business
end of a gun in the hand of an apathetic killer while her life flashed before
her eyes.

Keeping a hand
on her back, Avery directed her toward the Siena. He helped her inside and
walked around to slip in behind the wheel. He keyed the ignition, put the car
in gear, and peeled out. 

Only once they
had safely put some distance between them and Shabany, Avery asked Aleksa if
she was all right. He wasn’t being nice. He needed to need if she’d be able to
hold herself together for a while longer. If she wasn’t, then he needed to
think about leaving her behind.

“I…I don’t
know…” He knew she wasn’t referring to the head wound. She’d taken a box of
tissues from the glove box, and pressed a wad tightly against the cut. “I was
attacked once, in Moscow, but this is different. Those men back there on the
street were going to kill me. If they’d been a little faster or had a third man,
I’d be…If I hadn’t met you tonight, I’d have been at the apartment with Yuri
when they came…It doesn’t seem real. I’m meant to be dead right now…”

Her voice trailed
off. Avery heard her hyperventilating. He lowered her window a couple inches. “Look
at me. Focus on breathing. Don’t think about all the shit that might have been.
You’ll just fuck yourself up even worse. It’s over now, and you’re alive.
That’s all that matters.”