Fateful Lightning: A New History of the Civil War & Reconstruction by Allen Guelzo (self help books to read TXT) 📕

after a few beers and some big talk about slotting him, we actually decided that we were going to attempt to get eyes on Zalkind, confirm his identity as Kamenev, and then Gagnon would use his intelligence connections to bring you guys in.”

Tom stared, at the DD, “Wait a moment, how did you know he’s a Colonel?”

“We’ve been aware of his presence for some time. Were you involved in the fight?”

“No. It happened after I had left. Gagnon called me from his hotel after the fight. Said he’d been jumped in an alley. Had beaten one guy badly and stabbed another in a quick knife fight. He had been stabbed so I went over to see if I could help and to accelerate our involving the security services as this whole thing was clearly getting out of hand. At the hotel, as I got off the lift on Gagnon’s floor, I saw a small woman, red hair, dressed as a hotel maid in the door of a room, clearly raise a pistol. You know the rest.”

Tom leaned forward and held the DD’s gaze. “Look,” Tom continued. “I’m worried about my…” what was Nia? “… my friend, err, my girlfriend.” He winced when he said it. “Zalkind may have used her to find a link to me and to Gagnon. If so, she could be in some danger.”

“Nia Williams is perfectly safe,” the DD answered. “We had the local plod out to the filmset this morning. And one of our lads is on set now. No worries, it’s secure. We think Zalkind, or Kamenev as he is now called, and, possibly, the injured and or dead SVR or FSB men, have already been spirited away. There was some last-minute activity at London City airport early this morning. The embassy filed a hurried flight plan to Moscow’s Vnukovo airport. Private jet flew in and left later this morning. All this was accompanied by what appears to have been an increase in embassy chatter.”

“So, you know of Kamenev?” Tom said trying to disguise some of the anger he was beginning to feel.

“Somewhat,” the DD said. “We thought he was low level FSB trying to make connections and contacts in the media world. One of those louche Russians who enjoy hanging out with celebrities, keeping an eye on oligarchs, that kind of thing. But over the last few days we picked up an increase in Russian Embassy chatter, followed some FSB imported heavies, and then the link to Gagnon and to you, Major Price, became rather obvious in the early hours of this morning.

“We got CCTV tape of Russian Embassy cars at Gagnon’s hotel reversing into the alley, we now assume they were picking up Gagnon’s assailants. We purposefully watched the activity in and out of the embassy. Again, an increase in chatter, a quick filing of flight details occurred at London airport and surveillance followed a couple of embassy cars that later headed out to London airport. Two chaps went up the air-steps into the jet. A large bag, which we think probably contained a body, went into the hold.”

“So, Gagnon did kill the Russian?” Tom asked, feeling sick.

“It’s what we’re assuming,” the DD noted. “But we’re pretty convinced that it was self-defence. We don’t intend to pursue the situation any further,” she added with a gentle smile.

“And Zalkind’s, what, safe in Moscow?” Tom asked.

“I’m afraid so,” the DD answered with genuine empathy. “Again, we’re assuming that it’s too hot for him in London and that he’s been recalled to Moscow. I’m sure his reception at Moscow Centre will be anything but pleasant. We’ll ask for the suspension of his diplomatic immunity and extradition back to the UK as a person of interest in a violent altercation outside of a London hotel,” she sighed. “But we know the Russians will refuse. They don’t extradite their own citizens. Let alone an intelligence officer.”

Tom grimaced.

“But,” the DD continued, “He’s now on our radar, and on our allies’ radar, too. He won’t be able to show his face, whatever face he has now, so his usefulness to the SVR and FSB has been much reduced. Plus, as you may know, Major Price, we have long memories. He ordered the killing of one of our own so we, the Secret Intelligence Service, the Canadians, and the CIA will be very alert to the whereabouts of Zalkind or Kamenev or what the hell he’ll call himself. He’s a marked man.”

“Somehow, I don’t feel that’s enough.”

“No, but it’s the reality of the situation,” the DD continued. “Worse, perhaps, is that Gagnon, probably will be a marked man. I’m sure he’ll now be looking for a new career after his home service deal with him. You too, Major Price, may now be a person of interest to the Russians. I wouldn’t plan any trips over there if I were you.”

Tom grasped the reality of the situation. “Shit,” he said.

“Shit indeed,” the DD added.

***

Outside of Ditchling

Daria Kirov made sure there were no cars in front or behind her, nor any pedestrians around when she turned her motorbike into the lane from where the Fiesta had emerged previously. She was nervous as she knew it was a dead end and she could be trapped. She hoped that there would be at least a gate or two which would offer a possibility of egress and escape across farmers’ fields if necessary. She slowed the bike and raised her visor while still constantly scanning her rear-view mirrors. She reached the end of the lane and slowed the bike to a crawl. Daria noticed tyre tracks in the mud close to the verge of hedgerows that lined the lane. More telling, she observed, was the pile of fresh cigarette butts. In her mind’s eye she saw a Russian waiting in the car smoking, like all FSB or SVR men did, waiting for some signal