Hard Cover Page 28

  I motioned with the Saiga’s barrel for him to sit. He did so, sinking into a squat and placing his hands on the ground. I walked closer to check him for other weapons. Up close he was big and hard-boned, with broad shoulders and a blade of a nose. His eyes were watching me with caution, but behind that look I could see a whole turmoil going on.

  He was suffering.

  I saw no reason to humiliate him further, but I had to be sure I was safe. I patted my pockets and pointed to his jacket. He indicated his side and said, ‘Makarov.’

  ‘Take it out. Put it on the ground. Be very careful.’

  He did so, lifting it out with the tips of his fingers and thumb. I knew he was within a professional’s ace of being able to flip it and start shooting, but he’d have to cock it first and even he must have known he’d never make it in time. He placed it on the ground and pushed it away.

  ‘Any others?’

  ‘No.’

  I stepped forward and kicked the Makarov out of his reach. He didn’t move, but watched while I did it with the kind of detachment of somebody only vaguely interested, with no real concern at the possible outcome. I guessed he was in deep shock.

  ‘American?’ he said, and sank onto his butt, lacing his fingers and placing his forearms on his knees. It wasn’t a good position from which to jump up and fight, especially against a gun, and he wanted me to know it.

  ‘Doesn’t matter what I am. You were here to stop Tzorekov?’

  He shrugged. ‘It was my job.’ He spoke good English with a strong accent, and I figured he’d picked it up over the years mixing with troops of various nations. ‘And you?’

  ‘Protecting him. That was my job.’

  He almost smiled. Two opponents acknowledging the other’s position.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

  ‘Chesnokoy. Alexei.’

  ‘All your men?’ I nodded at the burning remains of the Ansat, which took that moment to send up a vivid gout of flame followed by the vibration from an explosion. The smoke was drifting into the sky in a huge pillar-like formation, and spreading out on the wind and rain to form a blanket over the burning trees below. The pop-pop of burning fabric and rubber, and the occasional louder report of a burning cartridge going off were the only other sounds.

  ‘Yes.’ He turned his head to glance at it, then looked back at me. His eyes were full of pain and fury, although I didn’t denote much direct hostility. A professional soldier after all, recognizing that there was nothing to be gained by showing anger. All that did was blind you to opportunities for seizing back the advantage.

  ‘That didn’t look like a friendly-fire accident. What was it?’

  ‘It was not friendly. We were—’ he searched for the right word, then said – ‘betrayed.’

  ‘By who?’

  ‘The man who hired us.’

  ‘Name?’

  He hesitated for a second, then shrugged and said, ‘He is Simoyan. Victor Simoyan.’ He spat on the ground to demonstrate his contempt for the man. ‘He makes weapons … and lots of money. He also uses people.’

  ‘How many were you?’

  He held up both hands, showing eight fingers, and added, ‘Also pilot and navigator. All gone.’ His eyes glittered. ‘But not all here.’ He was acknowledging my part in the contest, but whatever the means, he’d lost all his men. It would have been a very bitter pill to swallow.

  ‘Two were wounded,’ I pointed out. ‘Burns.’

  He shook his head. ‘He will kill them, too. If they are not dead now, then soon.’

  ‘Why?’ I meant, why was it ending this way for them?

  ‘Because that is the way of these things.’ He shrugged almost fatalistically. ‘Biznismen – they have no honour. Not like soldiers.’ The way he said the word ‘Biznismen’, which meant exactly what it sounded like but was definitely not a compliment, told me everything I needed to know about the kind of person who’d hired him. Simoyan and others had been protecting their pockets and status and now they were making sure they protected their backs, clearing up the mess by making certain nobody got back to talk about it.

  I walked around him and picked up the assault rifle, slinging it over my shoulder, then collected the Makarov and put it in my pocket. I was going to walk away from here and I didn’t want him coming after me. He had good reason for doing so and I didn’t assume for a second that he lacked the guts or determination to want me dead. As it turned out, I was only half right. He had guts in spades.

  He didn’t turn to watch me, but dipped his head, and I realized he was waiting for the shot that would send him to join his colleagues. He was a fatalist at heart.

  When I walked back in front of him, he looked suspicious, then surprised.

  ‘We’ve done enough, you and I,’ I told him. ‘This is over.’

  ‘For me, maybe.’ He shrugged again. ‘Some win, some lose.’

  ‘For all of us. Tzorekov is dead.’ When he raised his eyebrows I added, ‘Heart attack. He was an old man. Sick.’

  He nodded. ‘So, all of this for nothing. And Gurov?’

  ‘Gurov’s gone.’ I pointed away over the hills. The truth was, I didn’t know where he’d gone but it didn’t really matter. He’d been well-trained and would disappear into the landscape and make his way into whatever kind of future he had waiting for him.

  ‘You can manage from here?’ I was being polite but I wasn’t going to be noble enough to offer him a lift out of here. Once he got over his shock at what had happened, it would be like having a silverback gorilla in the car with me.

  ‘Of course.’ He didn’t look at me, but stared out across the lake.

  ‘You know, if you go after this Simoyan, you’ll die,’ I said. It wasn’t really any of my business, but I felt I had to say it. I also knew what I’d have said in his position.

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But if I do not try, I should be dead, anyway. They were good men. They did not deserve this.’

  There was nothing more to say, so I turned and walked away into the trees, back towards the car. This was Chesnokoy’s country and I figured he’d do the same as Gurov, only with different aims in mind. Gurov would survive but I wasn’t certain Chesnokoy was that interested, beyond dealing with the person he knew had organized the gunship to take out the Ansat and everybody onboard. The same person who’d hired him in the first place.

  Victor Simoyan. It was a name I hadn’t heard before. Whoever he was, he must have had some pull to have been able to arrange all this. I’d be looking out for his name over the next few weeks, to see what happened. Whoever or wherever he was, he was going to need some serious protection when Alex Chesnokoy returned from the dead.

  I called up Langley. It was time to go home.

  Lindsay came on.

  ‘Go ahead, Watchman.’