The Kremlin File

Noah spoke to the boy who had ghosted through Jerome’s army. The young man nodded and took the candle, waving me to follow. The faint light shone upon a painted screen hung behind a primitive altar. He lifted a corner of the screen, revealing a passage behind it, and went into it ahead of me. I hoped he knew where he was going. The stub of candle wouldn’t last very long. We went down more steps to a lower, curving tunnel lined with recesses. Bits of candle were stuck in the walls, never more than two-or-three inches long. The air was foul. Then I saw why. Most of the recesses held human bones, hollow-eyed skulls behind them on stone shelves. This was the burial crypt of the tribe.

The corridor was long with several turns. My sense of direction told me it led to the far side of the fortress. Finally there was a round pool of sunlight on the floor. Looking up, I saw a small hole in the roof, barely wide enough for my shoulders and too high for me to reach.

The boy understood. He reached for the machine gun, laid it and the candle on the floor, and offered his back for me to climb. I reached up, got my hands spread on the upper surface of the opening and lifted myself out.

I rested for a moment. I was on the roof of the rooms near the outer wall. The grounds appeared to be empty. I stretched an arm back down the shaft and felt the barrel of the gun the boy was handing up to me. I pulled it out, hearing the slap of his bare feet running down the tunnel. He was heading back to Noah.

Crawling to the edge of the roof I discovered my missing man, the fourth Russian — on his stomach behind the parachutes, his gun ready on the door behind which Mitzy watched. He wasn’t far away. As individuals, the enemy are never impressive. This one was young, slight, but dangerous because of the lethal toy in his hands. I called to him in Russian, wanting him to face me.

“Up here.”

He turned. I fired. He jerked and rolled. Mitzy appeared at the door, saw the body and walked toward it. I jumped off the roof.

In that fraction of time a fifth parachutist lunged from behind an open door, ramming a heavy revolver against Mitzy’s neck. To kill him I’d have to shoot through her. He was looking at me.

He called in fair English, “Throw away the gun.” Then he said something to the girl.

I let my gun fall. He gave an order: “Come this way, not close. Stand against the wall facing it.”

I crossed past them. His uniform was of better material, better tailored than what the others wore. He had the mark of an officer and a walkie-talkie hung from his belt.

Even at the distance I could heard Mitzy’s ragged breathing. He held her tighter and she gagged.

He laughed. “One chance for you both. Tell me where Dr. Fleming is. If you don’t, I shoot first her, then you.”

My stiletto was on the floor out of reach.

Mitzy’s voice rasped through her teeth. “Tell him to go to hell.”

I turned slowly, not to startle him. He cursed me.

“I didn’t tell you to move.”

I pretended to be frightened. It was easy. I chattered, “Don’t shoot. I’ll tell you. He’s hiding. I’ll get him.”

Mitzy swore at me, a thorough job. But I knew that if I could pass the catacomb’s door, I’d find guns there. It didn’t come off. The Russian knew they were there too. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He could use both Mitzy and me as a shield and walk to where I’d pointed. Then, using us as protection, he’d demand that Fleming give up. But suppose Fleming didn’t give a damn about our lives and shot through us to get to the enemy? That was a possibility he couldn’t risk.

So he tried another tack. He’d realized Mitzy was important to me by the way I laid down my gun the minute he’d grabbed her. He sneered.

“Yes. Go bring him. If there is a trick, the woman dies at once.”

I had to play it out. He was a head taller than the girl and I trusted my aim with the Luger to blow his block off while he watched the door I’d gone through.

“Walk slowly,” he told me. “With your hands high. Do not bend down. I will watch.”

We marched toward the catacombs. Just before I reached the steps he told me to stop, wanting to accustom his eyes to the change of light; then he told me to go on. He didn’t follow me any further. The stairs and the chamber below me felt like I was walking in India ink A soft footfall preceded me and at the bottom a hand was laid on my arm. Noah’s voice whispered against my ear.

“I saw and heard. Come with me.”

He kept hold of me, steering me ahead of him. I whispered to him what I had in mind, and his fingers tightened on my wrist.

“It will not work. You could not see behind you. There is too much risk that he would see a shadow in time to pull the trigger. We will try another way.”