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
‘Thanks.’ I took her hand gently. Her English pronunciation was perfect – no trace of an accent – and it was refreshing to hear her sound British, rather than American, as most Russians do when speaking English. She smelled pretty good, too: I was getting traces of some scent that I knew but couldn’t quite place.
In a few moments we were all sitting at a rectangular table and the secretary was getting a brew on. Allway sat at one end, on my left, Anna opposite me. She sat back in her chair with her arms folded, very composed, very still, as she listened.
Allway was courteous, brisk and efficient: without any faffing about, he went straight into confirming the details of our schedule.
‘You arrive all together next Saturday . . . the eighth,’ he said, checking a sheet of notes.
‘That’s right.’
‘Transport is by RAF C-130, which will fly direct into the strip at Balashika. Arrival at 0030 local time.’
‘Correct.’
‘The aircraft will depart as soon as unloading’s finished.’
‘Correct. It’s going to refuel in Berlin on the way here, so that it can turn straight round and be gone in the dark.’
‘Good. Now – your personnel.’
He began to run through the list of names – he had them all correct – and at the end I said, ‘I take it you have secure satellite comms with the UK?’
‘Of course. I’ll give you a list of numbers in a minute. You can call me direct from Hereford – and from Balashika, when you get there.’
I looked across the table. ‘Colonel?’
‘Please call me Anna.’
‘Anna, then. Can you explain what our official status is going to be? I mean, what basis will we be here on?’
Her face, which had been set rather hard, softened into a smile. ‘Don’t worry. It’s all above board. You’ll be here as guests of the Ministry of Defence and the Ministry of the Interior, jointly.’
‘Does anyone outside the armed forces know we’re coming?’
‘No. There has been no official announcement. Our aim is to protect you from possible interference by criminal elements.’
‘You mean the Mafia?’
She nodded. ‘They would hardly welcome the idea of foreign experts coming to train the new unit.’
‘So it’s important that we don’t get seen or recognised coming and going, or outside the camp?’
‘Precisely.’
‘In that case, what about transport? One or two of us are going to have to liaise with the Embassy. I imagine we’ll be coming in and out.’
‘That’s no problem. We’ll make a couple of civilian cars available. The only thing is, you’ll need driving licences. If you give me your names and details, I’ll arrange that.’
‘Thanks. What if we get stopped by the traffic police?’