“Excellent. Did he provide more information on the northern situation? I would be interested in anything he said.”
“Not exactly.” Kyle smirked. “I told him the decision had been made in both Washington and Moscow that he was a worthless piece of shit, and had no information that we wanted. The man was a master manipulator, and just as he had pretended to be a sniper to infiltrate my sniper course many years ago, he was now flying a false flag to masquerade as a cyberwar expert. He had been trained by computer experts just enough to be dangerous, but Colonel Markey nailed him right away on the technical stuff.”
“The man was nothing but a fraud,” said Sir Jeff. “He was trying to maneuver us into a full war to take the Baltic States.”
“Thank God we stopped that.” Ravensdale could not stand up because the table was in the way.
“Anyway, I had the pleasure of telling Ivan that the good news was that he was not going to go rot in Guantánamo. We’re a bit overcrowded down there and President Thompson wants to close the place. So I informed Ivan that we were turning him over to Turkey, where he would be kept in a dungeon for the rest of his life.”
Ravensdale was fighting to remain calm. “That is a fitting punishment for his kind,” he said. “Another good job by you, Kyle.”
“But Ivan didn’t give up easily. He said that he had something else to trade, something really important. At first, I thought he was just blowing more smoke, but I told him if it was worthwhile, we might still get him into Guantánamo. And guess what? He earned his orange jumpsuit and a ticket to sunny Cuba instead of rotting in Istanbul!”
Ravensdale was very quiet. He politely lifted the china teacup with its saucer and took a sip.
“He gave up you, General Ravensdale.”
“What poppycock! Cornwell, are you just going to sit there and listen to this man spew insults at an old friend?”
“Actually, he brings up some interesting points,” said Sir Jeff. “Kyle, please continue.”
Swanson was ready. “So investigators questioned some of your NATO compatriots, who said you continued pushing hard to transfer troops to the north even after the danger to Estonia became obvious to everyone else. Even when your boss ordered everything to remain in place!”
“That was my new job, you fool!”
“The final straw was when your staff members revealed your new German mistress. Even a quick look at her finances and background by the computer boys and girls turned up links to the Russians. Arial Printas was arrested last night and, just like Ivan, made a deal to save her own ass.” Swanson paused for a breath. He could hardly believe this trail of facts that showed how a man of impeccable reputation had sold out.
“I barely know the woman!” It was a poor and obvious bluff.
“She had the whole thing on video, General. She handed it over.”
Ravensdale finally fell silent, rooted in position by his guilt.
“You were the mole all along, Freddie-boy. You have been in Moscow’s pocket for years. God only knows how much damage you have done. I should kill you right where you stand.”
Sir Jeff gave a sharp grunt. “No, Kyle. Leave him alone. Freddie has been my friend for many years, and we will deal with this. Leave us for a few minutes. Please?”
Swanson stalked off to the stern, propped against the rail with his back to the dark waters of the North Sea, and watched the two older men still sitting there, drinking fuckin’ tea and talking as if nothing unusual had just taken place. He opened a storage box.
“Well, now, Freddie. It does seem that you are in a bit of jam, doesn’t it?” Sir Jeff kept his voice low. “Traitor and all that. I never would have believed it of you. I saw some of the video. Astonishing.”
Ravensdale felt some of the tension leave him as Swanson stayed far away. “I never meant for it to happen. They trapped me and I foolishly played along, hoping not to do harm until they went away.”
Jeff clapped his hands together once, a sound of finality, then put them in his lap. “Let us resolve this situation, then. You cannot escape from this yacht, and you will embarrass the queen and government if you are publicly exposed. Not to mention smearing the army and especially our beloved SAS. You really are quite a disgrace, old man.”
“Does that mean Swanson is going to kill me out here? Just dump my body overboard?”
“That really all depends upon you, Freddie. We can do it that way if you choose, but let me offer an alternative.” Jeff lifted up a Glock 17 Gen4 handgun that had been beneath his hip and placed it on the table. The weapon was loaded with a single 9mm round, a close-quarters bullet that would explode on impact and not go through the target.
“Take this and go over by the railing, put it to your head and pull the trigger, Freddie. It ends there. The official story will be that you suffered a heart attack while on the way to London and we buried you at sea. A memorial service with full honors will be held in London.”
“Swanson or myself, eh?”
“Yes. Quite. But please, let’s just get on with it, shall we?”
“Suppose I shoot you instead?” Ravenscroft had not yet touched the weapon.
“That, I fear, is not possible.” Jeff pulled out a second Glock. “This one has a full magazine.” He lost his smile and commanded, “Go.”
Ravensdale stood and brushed off his trousers and straightened his shirt. One look aft showed him Swanson standing there holding an M-4 rifle. Jeff was pointing his own pistol. The general let out a long sigh, looked around, smelled the ocean, heard the gulls and picked up the gun. It was only four strides to the rail, and he took them, then with a fluid motion, he brought up the pistol and blew his brains out.
Swanson trotted back just as Trevor Dash arrived from the bridge. Together, they picked up the body and hurled it into the passing water. It landed with a big splash, bobbed in the wake, then vanished from sight. Jeff reached for a cookie and Swanson and Dash sat beside him. A crewman came back and flushed away the bloody debris with a high-powered hose before it could stain the deck or the side of the yacht.
“So, are you ready to fly back to Washington? We’ve got a business to run, you know.” Jeff did not seem disturbed, but why should he be? Ravensdale had sold out his country and gotten the fate he had so richly earned.
“I was talking to Marty Atkins about that last night,” said Kyle. “My original mission was to take out two jihadi fools, one in Rome and the other in Egypt. I had to postpone the second one when Ivan Strakov popped onto the screen and really screwed things up. Now I want to finish that assignment. It shouldn’t take more than a few days.”
Jeff Cornwell closed his eyes and rested beneath the warm sky. “I understand. Get back as soon as you can.”
“Yeah,” Kyle said. “I will.”
ALSO BY JACK COUGHLIN
Shooter: The Autobiography of the Top-Ranked Marine Sniper
(with Capt. Casey Kuhlman and Donald A. Davis)
Shock Factor: American Snipers in the War on Terror
(with John R. Bruning)
Kill Zone
Dead Shot
Clean Kill
An Act of Treason
Running the Maze
Time to Kill
On Scope
Night of the Cobra
ALSO BY DONALD A. DAVIS
Lightning Strike
The Last Man on the Moon (with Gene Cernan)