Lance pushed Davidov toward the door, then, holding him very tight, his gun pressed against Davidov’s temple, they walked out into the corridor.

“Stop right there,” a soldier yelled. “Stop or we shoot.”

Lance held Davidov in front of him as a shield. “Tell your men to put down their weapons.”

“What?”

“Do it or you’re a dead man.”

Davidov hesitated. The soldiers had their carbines trained on them, bayonets extended.

“Tell them to drop their guns,” Lance said again.

“Lower your weapons, men,” Davidov said. “Do it.”

The soldiers looked to their commanding officer.

“On the authority of the president of the Russian Federation,” Davidov said, “lower your weapons.”

The officer was the first to put down his gun. The others followed.

“Now,” Lance said, “where’s your helicopter?”

“What helicopter?”

Lance twisted his arm behind his back and Davidov said, “Ivanovskaya, right outside. The square in front of the building.”

“Which way?”

Davidov resisted again and this time Lance lost his patience. He twisted Davidov’s arm back so far his wrist snapped like a branch.

Davidov screamed in pain and said, “Behind us. Behind us.”

Lance beckoned for Laurel to come out to the corridor.

“Check the route,” he said to her.

She came out and checked the path toward the exit.

“Tell those men to stay put,” Lance said to Davidov.

The men didn’t need to be told. They stood their ground and watched as Lance and Laurel backed down the corridor. When they reached the door, Lance pushed Davidov out first.

Davidov waved his uninjured arm wildly in the air, desperately signaling any soldiers out there not to fire.

Lance held him by the door and peered out. The chopper was where he’d said it would be, out on the cobbled square between the senate and the Patriarch’s Palace.

He turned to Laurel. “You go first. Tell the pilot to get ready for takeoff.”

“What about you?”

“We’ll follow when you’re on board.”

Laurel ran the hundred yards to the chopper and got inside.

Across the square was the enormous Tsar Cannon, a forty ton, bronze behemoth capable of firing one ton projectiles. Soldiers were taking up position behind it but had been ordered to hold back.

It wouldn’t be long before they got presidential authorization to open fire, regardless of Davidov’s safety.

“Get those men to stay back,” Lance said.

Davidov yelled at them but his voice was lost under the noise of the chopper as it fired up.

Behind him in the corridor, Lance could see the six soldiers approaching cautiously.

“Come on,” he said, pushing Davidov out ahead of him. They began to cross the cobbled square, Lance eyeing the assembled soldiers on the far side, their guns pointed out in front of them like a firing squad.