Private Moscow (Private 15)

Erin gave us both a cryptic look. “How are you guys with confined spaces?”

CHAPTER 90

DINARA’S HEART RACED as she heard the heavy movements of the two police officers searching the vehicle. Pictures of what would happen to her if she was caught invaded her mind, and she fought the urge to cry out. Jack touched her hand, and squeezed it reassuringly.

The two of them were side by side in a cramped compartment concealed beneath the flatbed of an old long-wheelbase Land Rover Defender. Master Gunnery Sergeant West was driving, and he’d explained the compartment walls were filled with countermeasures to defeat X-ray and infrared equipment. Dinara guessed at a lead lining and some sort of cooling system, but West hadn’t elaborated other than to say the vehicle was very useful for getting things into and out of the embassy in secret.

The compartment was two meters long, a little over a meter wide and thirty centimeters deep. If she took a deep breath, Dinara could feel cold steel pressing against her chest.

“You know you’re breaking every international convention,” Dinara heard West say.

The Moscow police were still running checkpoints at both ends of Bolshoy Devyatinsky Lane, and were searching every vehicle entering and exiting the embassy compound, in direct contravention of the privileges accorded to diplomats.

“If you are unhappy with your treatment, your State Department can make a formal objection to the Interior Minister,” a Russian voice replied.

The two officers above them banged away at the false flatbed, searching for anomalies. They’d find none. The hinges and catches to open the secret compartment were on the inside.

“It’s clear,” one of the men directly above them said in Russian.

Dinara heard more movement, and then the sound of the two officers jumping out of the Land Rover, their boots crunching rock salt and grit as they hit the road.

“You can proceed,” the Russian voice said, and the Land Rover rumbled forward.

They made a series of turns and a few minutes later, the chunky SUV pulled over.

“Time for coffee,” West said, using the pre-agreed phrase that signaled it was safe for them to leave their hiding place.

Dinara sensed Jack feeling for the catches, and heard him snap open three of them in rapid succession. She helped him push the heavy flatbed and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light.

They clambered out of the tiny compartment, their presence concealed by the Land Rover’s privacy glass.

“I bet that feels better,” West remarked as they closed the false flatbed and sat on the bench seats that ran along the Land Rover’s flanks.

“You OK?” Jack asked.

Dinara nodded. “Let’s go,” she replied. “We’ve got a job to do.”

CHAPTER 91

MASTER GUNNERY SERGEANT West drove to Konkovo where we were supposed to meet Feo. My heart sank the moment we turned onto Maklaya Street, a quiet side road in a residential neighborhood. I saw a Moscow police patrol car directly ahead of us.

“This could get ugly,” West warned as he stepped on the brakes.

The Land Rover came to a rapid halt, and West threw it into reverse as the pa

trol car doors opened, but I recognized the people who stepped out of the vehicle.

“It’s OK,” I said. “That’s Feo Arapov and Anna Bolshova. They’re friends.”

West stopped the Land Rover. “You sure?”

I nodded.

West pulled over, and we got out into the bitter chill of late afternoon. The snowstorm had stopped, but dark clouds brooded and swirled overhead, promising more.

“You can’t be here,” Dinara said to Anna.

“After what happened at the embassy my superiors don’t know whether to suspend or promote me. Some of them know the official story stinks. Others are loyalists. You’ve opened a box of trouble, Mr. Morgan.”