Mikhail closed half the distance to the SUV — fifty meters — and was well within an enemy’s rifle range and still within pistol range for Chris and Sonny. They drew their pistols and covertly kept them down at their sides. At twenty-five meters, Mikhail was in enemy pistol range. Mikhail closed in on the suspicious vehicle from the rear. Chris and Sonny moved forward. In the middle of the parking lot, they had absolutely nothing to hide behind or use as a shield to stop flying bullets. They aimed their pistols at one of the SUV’s tinted windows. If any shots were fired at Mikhail, Chris and Sonny would return fire first and ask questions later. Sonny stepped away from Chris, giving them separation so an attacker couldn’t easily hit them both with the same salvo.
Mikhail looked in the rear window. When he reached the driver’s side, instead of presenting a smaller target, the side of his body, he presented a bigger target, the full front of his body. He didn’t even have his weapon drawn.
Is Mikhail so tactically stupid? Or is he sure this isn’t a threat?
Chris’s heart thumped faster and his breath chased after it.
Mikhail tapped on the window. No answer. He tapped again. A woman’s voice screamed from inside. Chris’s pistol hand perspired, and his heart raced. There was a flurry of movement in the SUV in front of Mikhail before the engine revved and the vehicle sped away.
Mikhail calmly turned and walked toward Chris and Sonny. Mikhail smiled so hard that it seemed his jaw might crack.
Chris lowered his pistol.
“What the hell happened?” Sonny asked.
“Kids,” Mikhail said with a chuckle. “Making the beast in the backseat.”
Chris’s heart rate slowed as he holstered his weapon. He wiped his damp palm against his trousers. He shook his head, and they returned to their vehicle without a single lead.
On the drive back to the safe house, Chris gnawed on one question. Where are you Xander?
Inside the safe house, Chris studied a map of Baku Bay and Sangachal Terminal, and then he opened his guitar case and broke out his M4.
Hannah sat down next him. “I’m sorry to keep dragging you into these messes,” she said with a somber voice.
Chris cleared his M4 in order to do a function check. “I came because I wanted to. After Xander killed Michael, nobody had to twist my arm to make me stay. I wanted to get Xander. Still do.”
“This work is how I breathe.”
“I know.”
“But you don’t need this work to breathe,” she said. “Not anymore. Your life as a preacher gives you oxygen.”
Chris made sure his weapon was on safe, with the bolt forward, and squeezed the trigger. The hammer didn’t fall. “I’m not sure where this conversation is going.”
“Xander and his goons are brass knuckles tougher than I expected.”
He moved the selector switch to fire and squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell. “The only easy day was yesterday.”
Emotion trickled into her voice, but she held it in check. “If something happens to you, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.”
Chris pressed down on the top cartridge in his magazine, making sure he had a full thirty rounds inside. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“You’ve done more than most Americans to fight the bad guys. You’ve sacrificed more than enough for your country,” she said. “If you walk away from this now, I’ll still care about you the same way. We can still see each other just as often. We can still be friends.
He loaded the magazine into his M4. “Not more than enough. Not yet.”
22
The next morning, Young called. “The Binagadi, one of the four ships Xander is tracking in his Marine Finder account, is docked in Baku Bay. Also, we found his IP address, but he’s using a re-router to throw us off his actual physical location. Even so, we installed a keystroke logger in his computer and found he’s searching the web about the Shah Deniz Alpha gas production platform.”
“Why would he search that?” Chris asked.
“If he destroys the Shah Deniz, he’ll kill a lot of crew members and interrupt the flow of gas through the South Caucasus Pipeline,” Young answered.
The pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together. “If the South Caucasus Pipeline shuts down, Europe will have to buy more of their gas from Russia.”
“Right. So Russia will have more money for its occupation of Ukraine and to send its military to expand Russian territory into other countries.”
“We have to figure out Xander’s plan of attack and stop him.” Chris ended the call and informed the others.
They planned on the fly and piled into the SUV outside, hoping to check out the Binagadi in port. Again, they made sure they had enough gear, including assault rifles and ship-boarding gear, like a caving ladder and extension pole, so they were prepared for a variety of contingencies. Mikhail drove out of the parking lot. Shortly after hitting the main road, they saw a white police car marked with a blue stripe on its side. It was parked on the side of the street up ahead. The police appeared to have stopped someone, and an officer was talking with him.
Another officer stood behind the stopped vehicle and directed traffic. As the parked car pulled out, the signaling officer motioned for Mikhail to pull over.
He slowed down. “Police roadblock. Not good.” The SUV came to a halt on the shoulder of the road. Because Mikhail and the SOG trio were carrying loaded pistols on their persons and loaded assault rifles under a blanket in the back of the SUV, Mikhail was right. This was definitely not good. And although the police were authorized to shoot Chris and his crew, they couldn’t shoot the police. Chris hoped their diplomatic passports would be honored by the local law enforcement, helping them to avoid a search. Now was not a good time for an international incident.
“Mikhail, do you have a get-out-of-jail-free card?” Hannah asked.
“I’ll take care of this,” Mikhail said.
The older policeman approached the driver’s side and said something in Azeri. Mikhail replied and pulled out his wallet, but instead of giving the officer a driver’s license or other such documents, Mikhail handed him several manta banknotes, the Azeri currency.
The police officer became indignant, raising his voice and waving the money at him. Mikhail had tried to bribe his way out of a ticket.
Shit.
Mikhail pulled something out of his wallet. More manta!
Damn, Mikhail, don’t make it worse.
The police officer discreetly put the money in his pocket before puffing out his chest and waving his finger.
Mikhail nodded without protest.
After the policeman finished speaking and stepped away, Mikhail shifted into drive, pulled out from the shoulder, and returned to the road. Chris looked back to see the police pull over another car.
“Sorry about that,” Mikhail said. “This has happened before. They just want to shake down drivers for some cash.”
“Thanks for getting us out of it,” Chris said. “I can’t—” Chris’s cell phone rang, interrupting him. “Uh, it’s Young. One sec.” He held up a finger. “Hey,” he answered.
“SIGINT reported an increased volume of unidentified communication out of Baku, but they were only able to decipher a time, 0830, and a name, Binagadi,” Young said, “Pier Three.”
“That’s in six minutes,” Chris said, then thanked Young and hung up.
He told the others, and Mikhail sped up without having to be asked. The four arrived in the harbor parking lot, but the Binagadi wasn’t at the pier.