They followed one another in silence until Faith’s light hit another set of flanges. “Where’s your count?”
“Just under four hundred.”
“Then we’re there.” Faith shined the light on the joints.
“I don’t think so,” Summer said. “I’d put money on it the one we’re looking for is a hundred meters up ahead. I’d really hate to pop up in Lenin’s tomb or something.”
“Actually, the mausoleum is pretty cool inside,” Faith said. “They have the lights arranged so that Lenin lets off this bizarre glow. They’ve used too much wax and made him kind of shiny. I’ll take you there if we get a chance after all this is over.”
“I’ll pass. I’ve had enough of you two taking me sightseeing in Moscow. I can tell you this: If you’re thinking about going into the tourist industry, you’d better not quit your day jobs. No, sir.” He laughed to himself. They filed along until they reached another junction in the pipes. “I’m at four thirty-six and we’re a few steps away. I’d say we’d better get in the turn lane.”
Patterns in the dirt, loose cement and handprints marked where maintenance workers had crawled under the pipe.
“It’s definitely had more traffic than the other ones,” Faith said.
“After you.” Zara put her hand on Faith’s back.
Faith squatted down and leaned over to get a peek at the other side. “You know, there’s something that looks like rat crap down here.” Faith flattened herself against the ground and squirmed underneath the scalding-hot surface, forcing herself to become one with the muck to minimize her risk of contact with the pipe. Pain stabbed her sides as she wiggled under it. She stood up, dusting herself off. “We’ve got another passage. Smaller, though. We’ll have to hunch down to walk through it.”
Zara let out an involuntary moan as she squeezed under the pipe. Faith helped her to her feet. “Shoulder okay?”
“About as well as can be expected when you rake a fresh wound over a rock. I’ll be fine.” Zara unfolded the crumpled map and took point, stooping to clear the low ceiling. “About twenty meters ahead, there should be a ladder and a thirty-centimeter pipe that feeds into the GUM complex. Hey, there’s something else ahead.” A half-dozen boxes blocked the path. Zara turned her light to the dark spot on the roof of the tunnel and found the shaft. “We have definitely found the right place. It appears someone is stealing from GUM and leaving the goods here to be picked up. Anyone interested in a new toilet seat?” Rusting metal rungs led straight up beside a pipe. Zara shined the light up the hole. “I can see about ten meters; then it looks like there’s something blocking it.”
Summer squeezed past Faith. He paused for a moment when they were face-to-face.
“I’ll go first. Let me get it open and then you two can come up. No sense in making Zara hang on to the rungs any longer than necessary. We also don’t know if they can hold weight for long,” Summer said.
“I won’t argue.” Zara stepped aside for Summer.
Summer pulled himself up like a gymnast mounting a set of rings. Zara shined the light up the shaft as he climbed. A scraping noise echoed and loose pebbles tumbled down. Zara jerked her head to the side, but continued to hold the light.
“One side of a rung pulled out. You’re going to have to be real careful.”
Summer reached the top and pushed open a manhole cover. He climbed into the room, leaned back over the shaft and motioned for them.
“Let me help you up to the first rung. You shouldn’t try to pull yourself up with your arm like that,” Faith said.
“I’ve done worse. I’ll be okay.” Zara reached up for the rung with her left arm.
Faith wrapped her arms around Zara’s upper thighs and boosted her up. She supported her until she could feel her weight transfer to the ladder. Faith borrowed boxes from the black marketeer and stacked them under the shaft. She climbed them until she could easily get on the ladder. She scrambled up, spreading her weight across three rungs at a time to minimize the risk of another pulling out. She made it to the top and sat on the floor of the boiler room to catch her breath. A tangle of pipes led off in different directions from a large tank, and the room was cluttered with buckets and mops. “How are we doing on time?”
“It’s zero-five-fourteen. A couple of minutes later than we wanted, but within the margins. We should have plenty of time to set up a stakeout and wait for our sniper. Now, you’re sure we’re not going to set off any burglar alarms?”
“This is GUM, not Nordstrom’s,” Zara said. “I doubt if they even have alarms wired to the doors. No way will they have motion detectors.”
They filed out into the hall. A foul stench assaulted them. Faith gagged. Russian toilets.
The first light of morning filtered down the stairs directly ahead of them. They climbed them to the top floor. Rays of sun now glistened on the arched skylights of the main arcade. Shops lined each side of the gallery, with a wide promenade separating them. The center was open to the ground floor with bridges linking the two sides.
“Any idea which gallery we’re in?” Faith said.
“We’re in the right place. The stores on that side should have back rooms overlooking Red Square. Gorbachev will be on the viewing stand atop Lenin’s mausoleum-that way.” Zara pointed to her right. “The sniper has to go through one of those stores to take his shot. We should set up our observation post in one of the shops across the gallery from them.”
“Let’s take the corner one. We can see everything from there and there’s a bridge to the other side right beside it,” Summer said.
They went over to their new observation post. Heavy red velvet drapes covered the shop window. The glass door was blocked off with similar curtains and no markings hinted at what was sold inside. Zara used the Leatherman to jimmy the lock quicker than most people could have opened it with the proper key.
Faith was totally unprepared for what she saw: stylish dresses adorning the mannequins. They could have been in Paris or London, but not Moscow, home of unisex underpants. She fingered a shawl-cashmere.
“I didn’t think Russia had stores like this,” Summer said. “What happened to lining up for a loaf of bread?”
“This must be a special shop only for the nomenklatura. We have a special shop at Lubyanka for KGB workers that stocks hard-to-get items, but I’ve never seen anything like this.” Zara flipped through a rack. “And for rubles!”
“Okay, let’s get organized. It’s zero-five-thirty. The parade starts in two and a half hours. Now, I doubt our marksman arrives anytime within the next two hours, but you never know. He may be the obsessive-compulsive type that needs to come do his wacko rituals on-site before he can do the job, or he may be the one who likes to come in just in time for the mark, do the job and not hang around. Whatever the case, we have to be ready. We’ll do thirty-minute shifts peeping through the curtains. I’ll go first, then Zara, then Faith. Any questions?”
“Yeah. What are we going to do when he gets here?” Faith wrapped a cashmere shawl around her shoulders to keep warm.
“When it’s time, I’ll go over and take care of him. Zara will come along and cover me. Sorry, honey, but you’d be in the way and I don’t want to put you at risk any more than I have to. You’ll wait here.”
Faith nodded as she spread out another shawl and lay down on the floor to rest.
Summer nudged Faith awake. “Okay, sleeping beauty. Time for your watch.”
Faith opened her eyes wide and checked the time. “Hey, it’s already eight thirty. What’s going on?”
“We couldn’t bring ourselves to wake you earlier. We pulled double duty for you,” Summer whispered. “The parade began half an hour ago and no one’s shown yet. We’re starting to think we have bad intel and this is the wrong building.”