Private Moscow (Private 15)

He opened the rear door, looked at us both and said, “Go!”

I climbed over the front seat and jumped through the driver’s door onto the asphalt. The Gulfstream G650 jet was a few paces away, and a man in a suit stood at the top of the airstairs.

“Come on!” he urged.

I heard a voice shout in Russian as Dinara jumped out of the Land Rover.

“Stop!” another Russian voice yelled in English.

I grabbed Dinara’s arm and we started running as the first shots rang out. I glanced over my shoulder to see the silhouette of men ducking for cover behind two unmarked vehicles as Master Gunnery Sergeant West pinned them down with pistol fire.

Dinara and I raced up the short run of steps, and the suited man bundled us inside and closed the door.

“Go! Go! Go!” he hollered.

The engines roared and the G650 started to move.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Morgan, Miss Orlova,” the suited man said. “My name’s John Hudson, and I’m here to make sure you get home safely.”

I sat port side and looked back to see West raising his hands in surrender. One man confiscated his weapon, two more took him into custody, and a fourth spoke furiously into a radio. But whatever he was saying and whoever he was saying it to couldn’t stop the inevitable, and moments later the engines surged, and we took to the sky.

I glanced at Dinara, who smiled with relief as we left Moscow.

CHAPTER 97

DINARA REALIZED SHE was trembling. She never got airsick, but she was feeling a profound nausea that made her toes curl. She knew it was nothing to do with the Gulfstream’s steady progress. She’d fled her homeland with nothing more than the clothes on her back. She’d made enemies of some extremely

powerful people, and she was going to America as a refugee. She’d lost her friend and colleague, and the life she’d known was gone. Her mind whirled with questions. Could she ever go home? What would she do when they arrived in America? Would she ever be safe?

The man who’d introduced himself as John Hudson emerged from the cockpit. He reminded Dinara of a young Tom Cruise.

“I was just on the horn with Erin Sebold,” he said. “She’s glad to hear we made it. The pilot says the control tower tried to rescind our flight clearance, but we were already airborne.”

Hudson took a seat at the same table as Jack. The two men sat opposite each other, across the aisle from Dinara.

“We’ve got a couple of MIGs off our flank, trying to force us back,” Hudson remarked.

“I saw them,” Jack replied.

Dinara’s stomach rolled, and she fought the urge to vomit. She leaned over to the window and registered the silhouette and navigation lights of a Russian fighter jet off their starboard side.

“They won’t shoot us down,” Jack said, giving Dinara a reassuring look. “They want us alive.”

“The pilot agrees. He thinks they’ll stay with us until their tanks run dry,” Hudson said. He had a languid inflection, but Dinara wasn’t sufficiently familiar with American accents to place it. Florida perhaps? Maybe Georgia?

“You got any comms on this bird, Agent Hudson?” Jack asked.

“Mr. Hudson,” the suited man replied, “‘Agent’ would involve me confirming or denying my employment by a government agency, and in truth I prefer plain old John. But, to answer your question, we’ve got whatever you need.”

“I think Karl Parker saw someone he recognized—a Bright Star agent,” Jack revealed. “You remember what you said to me?” he asked, turning to Dinara. “About never being able to hide who you really are? These kids were brainwashed into thinking they were doing right by Russia, but I think Karl Parker was fundamentally a good man. I think he asked me to New York to tell me the truth.”

“Why not go to the FBI or CIA?” Dinara asked.

“Maybe he was worried they’d been infiltrated by Bright Star operatives? Maybe he even knew they were? He knew he could trust me. And Private has resources and connections,” Jack replied. “I might not have known the truth about his background, but maybe you’re right. Maybe I really did know the man. You can’t hide good, and the man I knew as Karl Parker was good. I think that’s why he left a trail for me. He was trying to expose this without putting his family in jeopardy. I think he loved them and I have to believe he had grown to love America. I think he was going to give me the identity of Minerva.”

“The identification of the Russian agent known as Minerva has become a strategic priority,” Hudson remarked.

“Who’s overseeing it?” Jack asked. “Whoever it is, how do you know they’re not Bright Star?”