Heading north through Novosibirsk was quickly eliminated due to the location of a sizable military garrison northeast of the city. The possibility of going north was considered solely on the merits that it would be the least expected route. Vektor Labs was located south of the city in a small urban settlement called Koltsovo, which had easy access to the M52 Highway. The highway led south to several smaller roads that reached the Kazakhstan border and provided the quickest path out of Russia. They had little doubt that the Russians would focus their search efforts south along these routes, leaving the northern roads relatively unguarded. The trick to heading north would be Novosibirsk.
Situated twenty-five kilometers north of Koltsovo, road options were limited and would no doubt be heavily patrolled once the alarm was raised. The key highway northwest of the city was only accessible by crossing the Ob River at one of two bridges located well within Novosibirsk city limits. They could imagine few scenarios in which those crossings would be left unguarded once they completed their handiwork at Vektor. The critical question for the northern attempt centered on whether they could travel roughly twenty-five kilometers before the police and military response became organized enough to establish roadblocks. Nobody felt optimistic about their chances to break through Novosibirsk.
With a northern escape off the table, all of their efforts became focused on a southern escape and evasion plan. Farrington liked what his team had devised, but they would be forced to rely on some sketchy variables to reach the border area. Getting across the border was another story. One that would likely require a small, U.S. military sponsored miracle…or a series of them. He’d leave that part of the equation to General Sanderson, who had an uncanny ability to produce miracles on a near biblical level.
“My biggest concern is trusting our escape to the bratva. One lapse, whether intentional or unintentional, will put us out of business,” Farrington said, glancing up at Sanderson.
“We either trust that money buys their loyalty, or we try to figure out a way to do this without them,” Sanderson said.
“Reznikov’s holding back key information. I don’t see us having a choice.”
“There’s always a choice. This is your team, so it’s your call. My gut tells me the Russian brotherhood will honor their end of the deal, though I have no doubt they will hit us up for more money right at the end. Mafiya is mafiya,” Sanderson said.
“And we’ll cover that?”
“We’ll have to. I’ll send the CIA a bill later.”
“Good luck collecting,” Farrington said.
The general exposed a thin smile.
“Equipment won’t be an issue?” Farrington said.
“Not at these prices. I’ve been assured top-of-the-line gear. Latest generation Russian military hardware and high-quality commercial-grade electronics. All included. Berg has given them a basic list of items based on our earliest assessment, so they can start to source the equipment. You can fine-tune that list with your bratva contact before the team departs.”
“Sounds good,” Farrington said. “What about border crossing?”
“I’m working on that with Berg and my DoD friends.”
“You still have friends at the Pentagon?” Farrington asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Christ. Are you taking over Petrovich’s role as camp comedian too?”
“His personality rubs off on you after a while.”
“Wonderful. As long as some of his skill rubbed off at the same time, I can deal with it. Anyway…I can’t guarantee what we’ll muster from Uncle Sam, but we’ll get you something decisive,” Sanderson said.
“Worst-case scenario, we split up and go to ground. Wait for opportunities to cross, or double back into Russia and blend into the population,” Farrington said.
“Besides Novosibirsk, you’re not looking at any major population areas,” Sanderson said. “Options will be very limited with the Russian government on your heels. I’ll get you out of there. I have Parker working with Admiral DeSantos in D.C. to push the case, along with Berg and a few other allies. I’m sure Berg has a few surprises left in him.”
“He’s been pretty resourceful in the past.”
“I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side,” Sanderson said.
Farrington heard a knock at the lodge door and turned in time to see the screen door swing inward. One of the Russian Group operatives poked his head inside and spoke to someone standing on the porch.
“They’re inside. Good luck,” he said and disappeared.
Erin Foley stepped inside the post-and-beam structure, surveying her surroundings. “It’s a little more rustic than I expected, but I like what you’ve done with the place,” she said, not waiting to be invited to the table.
She shook hands with Sanderson first, then Farrington. Her grip was strong and cold, which didn’t match what his visual senses had predicted. He had been too preoccupied in Stockholm to take in many of the salient details. He remembered her wearing gray, carrying a red purse and sporting blond hair. The woman standing in front of him looked drastically different. A jet-black, shoulder-length bob had replaced the golden locks sported in Scandinavia. She wore stylish, functional clothing, a mix of J Crew and Patagonia that had probably been purchased in a boutique mall somewhere in Buenos Aires.
She looked more like a highly primped adventure traveler than a hardened espionage operative, but looks could be deceiving. Berg had assured them that she was the real deal. Another Jessica Petrovich in the making. He highly doubted that, but Daniel had vouched for her lethality based on what he had witnessed in Stockholm, and that was good enough to earn her a place on the team. Her skills and attractiveness would play a critical role in the early phase of their plan.
“It appears that I’m a little overdressed for the camp,” she said.
“Welcome to the team, Ms. Foley,” Sanderson said. “I trust your trip went smoothly, but most importantly, unnoticed?”
“My journey west from Buenos Aires was unremarkable, beyond the antics of Rico Suave and Julio Iglesias,” she said.
“Munoz and Melendez escorted her from the airport and kept an eye out for unwanted attention,” Farrington explained.
“You were in capable hands,” Sanderson assured her, “despite the comedy routine, which seems to be the only bad habit I can’t eliminate here.”
“Oh, they weren’t cracking jokes. The two of them bickered like a married couple throughout the entire ride. I think they need to get out more often,” she said.
Sanderson broke out laughing, catching Farrington off guard.
“They get out plenty. Mostly together, which is the real problem. They’ve been joined at the hip for over a month now,” he said, pausing to glance at Farrington.
“So, Ms. Foley,” Farrington said, “are you ready to take your field craft to the next level? Your role in this operation will be unlike anything you’ve experienced. You’ll work hand in hand with the Russian mafiya to execute your objectives.”
“I won’t be working with the rest of the team?”
“Once you leave this compound, you may not see any of the team again…unless I can persuade you to permanently join our modest operation,” Sanderson said.
“I don’t know. I’m not big into nature,” she said, glancing around the lodge.
“Very well. Would you like to go over the basic concept of your role in the operation, or do you need to freshen up after the trip?” Sanderson asked.
“You’re kidding, right?” She brushed past Farrington to examine the map, staring at it for several seconds before looking up.
“It’s a little over four days on the train from Vladivostok. Don’t you think it might be easier to fly me into Kiev? I could drive or take a shorter train to Novosibirsk.”