‘So what’s the state of play?’ Konstantin interrupted.
‘The general secretary is under house arrest at his dacha outside Moscow… and refuses to sign his letter of resignation… Ghukov has been replaced by Volkov, and the Americans have been told not to interfere in our European sphere. The deputy secretary is going to speak to the nation and give them the sad news that our general secretary is in a critical condition, which of course is true.’ Vdovin laughed at his own joke.
‘And General Marov?’
‘On the run. The KGB is going to take care of that upstart.’ Konstantin saw the look of distaste on the general’s face. ‘Speaking of which, Misha Revnik is still alive.’
‘Barely. I don’t think he will be causing anyone any trouble soon.’
‘Well, my friend is not happy.’
‘You can tell your friend that everyone else on that list is taken care of. I have four people in a warehouse by Pulkova. They have no idea what is going on. I’ll need to know what to do with them. They can’t stay there forever.’
Vdovin nodded. ‘You need help with Revnik?’
Konstantin did not want the military involved. There was money at Morskaya Prospect, tons of it. They’d sack the place.
‘No, I’ll deal with Revnik.’ And Viktoriya, he thought. She had certainly given him a run for his money, proved more resourceful and lethal than he had anticipated. When she, her half-dead friend and general were gone, RUI would be his. It was more or less going to plan.
14 OCTOBER 1989
Chapter 51
NEAR KALININ
Yuri woke at first light and felt a powerful urge to relieve himself. Unzipping his sleeping bag, he rolled off the lower bunk and scrabbled around for his boots. He found them tucked under the bed and fished them out. Derevenko grunted, still asleep. Yuri decided not to wake him for the moment. He donned his parka and gazed out onto the clearing in front of the cabin. The jeep was where he had left it, its roof canvas still visible under a light sprinkling of snow. The snow must have stopped shortly after they had arrived. Tyre tracks traced their way back to the fork he had negotiated the previous night. He wondered how visible they might be from the main road.
Nothing to be done right now. He would wake the captain as soon as he was back. Fifty metres into the wood, Yuri stopped behind a large fir, unbuttoned his jeans and began to relieve himself on a small bank of snow drifted against the tree. He looked up at a crystal-clear blue sky, and, with a sense of relief, breathed in the morning air, watching his breath as he exhaled and the steam rise from the ochre indentation he was making at his feet.
The sound of feet crunching on snow made him look up.
One hundred metres down towards the fork, two men in parka jackets and fur ushankas crept up the drive. Yuri hurriedly fastened his flies and took cover behind the tree. He felt for his automatic and then remembered he had left it in the jeep. He cursed himself… so much for basic training.
He didn’t have a lot of time. The moment the two intruders entered the cabin they would see his empty sleeping bag and guess where he was. Yuri estimated the distance to the jeep at fifty metres, about the same distance to the cabin door.
Squatting down, with the two men in front of him now, he began to circle towards the back of the cabin, using the trees and snowdrifts for cover. When the gunmen disappeared from view, Yuri sprinted the final thirty metres and flattened himself against the log wall, to the right of a small high-up window.
It was then he noticed the hatchet, buried in a wood block, placed next to a pile of neatly stacked logs. Carefully, he twisted it free. It felt heavy but familiar, just under a kilo, with a smooth wood haft. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he thought of his father and the dacha outside Yekaterinburg, splitting logs in late summer and stacking them in readiness for cold winter nights.
Bending down, Yuri loosened his laces and gently eased off both boots, making sure they didn’t bang on the deck. They must be inside by now, he thought. As if in answer, Yuri caught the high-pitched screech of wood being dragged over wood followed by a heavy thud and a cry of protest. Yuri ducked under the window and edged his way round to the front porch. Raised voices emanated from the open cabin door. He could hear Derevenko arguing. Yuri weighed the hatchet in his hand. It might be Stone Age versus twentieth-century man, but it was the only chance he had… that they both had.
Bent double, Yuri raced under the front window to the door jamb and flattened himself against the side of the cabin. Where were they now? Front or back? He tilted his head slightly towards the open doorway. He could make out Derevenko’s voice.
‘Did you bring us any breakfast? We ate all our rations last night. I’m sure the general will be back in a second.’
‘In the jeep,’ replied a second voice.
Yuri stepped into full view. Derevenko sat at the table with two men Yuri now recognised as the co-pilot and navigator.
‘Cometh the man, cometh the axeman… chopping wood, General?’
Derevenko and his companions began to laugh. Yuri swung the hatchet in front of him in mock attack.
‘A pity, I was rather looking forward to using this. How did you find us?’
‘We borrowed a jeep. There were checkpoints everywhere east of the reservoir so we took the A14. We guessed you would head towards Moscow, General.’
‘And you saw our tracks?’
Anatoly nodded.
‘The goat has a pretty distinctive track.’
‘We should decamp.’
With Anatoly and the navigator acting as point, the two jeeps headed back out on the road. Traffic was sparse; a freighter ploughed past them in the opposite direction and then a car.
Yuri tried to put himself in the mind of his pursuers. It wouldn’t take a genius to describe an arc around Cherepovets. At least the two of them had succeeded in widening that circle by evading capture overnight, but if Anatoly and the navigator could find them, so could the military police.
‘Do you still think they are going to be coming after us, General?’ asked Derevenko.
As if in answer, a helicopter clattered loudly across the highway just above tree height. Yuri glanced up through the dense snow-laden overhang of trees and caught the tail of an MTV as it raced north. He guessed it would turn in about ten to twenty minutes and retrace its steps. They had to change vehicles, into something more anonymous than a military UAZ.
Derevenko flashed Anatoly to stop. The two vehicles pulled over, well under the forest canopy.
‘We need to ditch these. We’re an open target in a sky like this. You saw the MTV?’
They both nodded.
‘They’re doing a sweep. It’s probably not the only MTV up there either,’ said the navigator.
‘Get everything we need out of the jeeps. Yev, you still have your uniform. Anatoly, go up the highway one hundred metres, and Stephan, one hundred metres downwind. When you see something coming, whistle.’
Yuri watched as the two men trudged off in opposite directions and took cover behind the firs that hugged the roadside’s edge. Derevenko climbed into the jeep and turned on the engine.
They didn’t have long to wait. Yuri heard a piercing whistle from Anatoly. Yuri banged on the canvas and Yev rolled forward, blocking the road in both directions. The dark blue Lada skidded inches from the side of his jeep. A heavily built man with wiry hair that stuck out from under his beanie, and wearing a tartan jacket, jumped out, furious at Yev’s apparent lack of road skills. What the hell was he doing blocking the road like that?