Chapters (25)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also Available by Chris Ryan
- Title page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgements
- Glossary
- Russian Expressions
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
My boots touched the top rail of the twelfth-floor balcony. I eased myself down gently until my backside was on the rail, then got my feet on the floor of the balcony itself. I’d landed in front of Window Two. The greenish curtains were drawn tight, but light was shining out round the edges.
The second I was out of my ropes I turned to guide Igor in.
By 9.28 all three of us were in our prearranged positions: myself crouching beside the door, Nikolai on my right, Igor on my left. Even in the relative shelter of the balcony the wind was blustering loudly, and there was no need to keep my voice down when I reported in. ‘Red leader, on target. Blue, report your state.’
‘Blue, preparing charge,’ came Whinger’s voice. ‘Wait out.’
‘Red, roger.’ My heart was going like a hammer. I imagined Whinger deftly taping a length of det cord down the centre of the door. I glanced either way at the dark, helmeted faces beside me and gave a reassuring twitch of my head. The lads had heard Whinger in their earpieces, but naturally hadn’t understood what he said, so I made taping motions round our own doorway. Both got it, grinned back and nodded.
But I was wrong. Suddenly I heard Whinger say, ‘Blue. We have a problem. I can see through a glass panel in the fire-escape door. There are two guards sitting outside the apartment, in the corridor. Wait one.’
I made an instant decision. ‘Red. You’ll have to drop them. I’ll use your shots as the signal to go.’
‘OK,’ said Whinger softly. ‘Ready when you are.’
‘Red. Roger. Control – is Black on schedule?’
‘Da, da. Chyornii gotovi,’ came Anna’s voice. I could tell that the excitement was getting to her as well because for a moment she forgot to translate. Then she said, ‘Yes. Black ready.’
‘Red. Starting countdown now. Sixty, fifty, forty . . .’ I imagined the Black team wagon speeding towards the Mafia entrance, silenced weapons at the ready. The gale was certainly going to help mask any noise they made.
‘Twenty . . . ten . . .’
Jesus, I was thinking, I hope this goes our way, because we shouldn’t be anywhere near here.
‘Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five . . . Stand by, stand by . . . GO!’
The hammer of rounds going down in the corridor came clearly through to us. With my charge held flat to the glassed upper half of the door, I knelt with my head tucked down, away from the blast, and squeezed my clacker.
BOOM! The blast made the inner wall shudder. I raised my head. The entire glass panel had vanished. Through the hole I lobbed a stun grenade and ducked again, eyes averted.
BANG! A sharper, louder explosion. I came upright again. Pieces of glass were tinkling down. The lights in the room had gone out.
‘Poshli!’ I shouted at Igor. ‘Go!’