They joined the autobahn heading north. Maria relaxed a little. She could drop back even further, accelerating only as they approached an exit, in case he took it. Eventually Cologne’s silhouetted skyline disappeared from the edges of the autobahn and they seemed to be heading towards Dusseldorf. The BMW suddenly veered off the autobahn without indicating. Maria felt a tightness in her chest. Was there a significance in him pulling off without signalling? She put her indicator on and followed him off the autobahn. As she followed the circular sweep of the exit, she found she had lost sight of the BMW. The rain still pounded on the windscreen and the unlit arc of road seemed crowded in by trees. The road straightened and she came to a junction. She could see as far along the road in both directions as the darkness and the rain would permit. No tail lights. She stopped. There were no cars behind or in front of her – she was isolated in the tiny universe of her car and the silver rods of rain caught in her headlights. She sighed. She accepted she would have to lose him rather than stick too close and if she had to pick up his trail every night at the bar where he obviously had a regular meeting with Viktor, then that was what she would do. She put the car back in gear and drove off.
Maria knew she would get lost if she blindly followed the road, so she decided to turn and head back in the direction of the autobahn. She reckoned that the Saxo’s turning circle would be tight enough for her to swing round without finding a junction to turn in. She checked her rear-view mirror. Clear. Maria swung the Saxo around and, apart from the right front tyre mounting the verge a little, did a perfect turn. It was then that the headlights of the BMW came on full beam, blinding her. The Ukrainian’s car was on the wrong side of the road and she realised that until that moment it had been heading straight for her at high speed, its lights switched off. Maria pulled hard on the steering wheel and the BMW flashed by, but it caught the rear right wing of the much lighter Citroen and sent her into a sideways skid. Maria’s training took over from her instinct and she straightened the Saxo. She floored the accelerator and the little car surged forward faster than she had anticipated. She checked the rear-view mirror: the BMW had been forced to do a three-point turn, giving her time to open up a precious lead on it.
Maria’s mind worked hard and fast. Bastard, she thought, you were hiding with your lights out in that entrance to the woods. She knew what he had intended: to knock the Saxo off the road, then probably smash her head in and make it look like she’d been killed in the crash. Maybe that’s what they had done with Turchenko, the Ukrainian investigator who had come after Vitrenko. Maria was aware of the nauseating fear that gripped her, but there was also a sense of exhilaration. And defiance. There was no way this prick was going to chase her to her death.
She saw the headlights of the BMW behind her. A couple of cars passed in the opposite direction, then nothing. He had known that this was a relatively deserted stretch of road and had led her here deliberately. The BMW was still some distance behind, but she calculated that he was closing. If there had been more bends on the road she would have stood a better chance: the Saxo was quick to accelerate and handled corners well, but on a straight stretch like this she was no match for the BMW’s horsepower. Maria kept her foot pressed hard to the floor and tried to achieve the same with her mental processes. He was a soldier. A Spetsnaz. He could probably kill someone with a paper clip in a snowstorm, but that didn’t necessarily give him an advantage in this environment. There was a gentle bend ahead; he would lose sight of her for thirty or forty seconds. She took the bend fast, the rain now driving hard against the windscreen. As she did so she unbuckled her seat belt and killed her lights. She swung the Saxo round in the road as fast as she could without losing control on the rain-sleeked tarmac. The BMW was already round the corner by the time she had completed her turn. Maria braked hard, leaving the Saxo on the wrong side of the road, hit the lights and jumped from the car.
6.
The three Spetsnaz made their way back along the edge of the Teteriv river. Buslenko had calculated that, in this moonlight, anyone approaching them would be silhouetted against the sky. When they reached the lodge it was still in darkness, the door wide open. Buslenko sent Stoyan around to the back, got Belotserkovsky to cover him, and swung his aim into the lodge.
‘Captain Sarapenko?’
‘Here,’ said Olga, and switched on a table lamp. She was aiming her automatic at him. She eased the safety catch back on and lowered the weapon.
‘Very good…’ Buslenko smiled. ‘But switch the light off. We’ve got trouble.’
‘Vorobyeva?’
Buslenko shook his head. ‘And we think Tenishchev and Serduchka too.’
Belotserkovsky swung into the lodge and closed the door. Stoyan came in from the back. ‘Clear at the rear. But there’s bad news there as well. Someone has disabled the vehicles. If we want to get out of here, then we have to walk.’
‘That should make it easy for them,’ said Belotserkovsky grimly.
‘Enough of that,’ said Buslenko. ‘I’m not going to let that bastard Vitrenko fillet me the way he did Vorobyeva.’
‘So you think he’s out there?’ asked Olga.
‘Oh, yes. If the prey is special to him, he likes to be there for the kill.’ Buslenko paused, frowning. ‘Funny… I said exactly the same thing to someone just yesterday.’ He felt a sudden panic in his chest as he thought about Sasha. Sasha was no soldier. He was an analyst. A soft and easy target. The thought must have registered in his face.
‘What’s wrong?’ said Olga.
‘The guy I got to put the team together… He was the only person who knew we would be here. They must have got to him.’
‘Bribery?’
‘No…’ Buslenko shook his head. ‘Never. Not Sasha. They must have
…’ He let the thought die.
Belotserkovsy rested a hand on Buslenko’s shoulder. ‘If it was him, Taras, he’s not in any pain now. They wouldn’t have kept him once they knew we were here.’
7.
The BMW braked as it came around the corner and found Maria’s Saxo head-on in its path, but the tyres aquaglided on the wet surface. The driver corrected by accelerating and swinging the BMW to avoid the Saxo. By the time he passed Maria where she stood at the side of the road, she had the illegal automatic aimed at the flank of the speeding car. She fired six rounds in rapid succession as it passed and the side windows shattered. The BMW swung from side to side, straightened, then accelerated away. Maria fired three more rounds at the rear of the car as it disappeared into the distance.
Maria watched the BMW for a moment, then took a second clip from her pocket, rammed it into the grip, snapped the carriage back to put a round in the chamber and stood, arms locked before her, waiting for the BMW to come back. It didn’t. Her heart pounded. The rain plastered her newly darkened hair to her scalp and she was chilled to the core of her being.
And she felt better than she had in months.
The bastard had seen her as an easy victim. She had seen herself as an easy victim. But now the hunted was the hunter. Nine rounds into the body of the car: she must have hit
him somewhere. Maria ran back, spun the Saxo around in the road once more, and headed off after the BMW.
8.
They had been in the lodge for three hours. They had not allowed themselves a light, nor the comfort of food or drink.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Buslenko. ‘Why don’t they just get it over with? There’s only four of us in here. We’re kilometres away from civilisation. They could finish us off with silenced fire and no one would be any the wiser. Where are they?’