Without Options Page 9

  The woman relaxed and finally saw she had an audience of one, her assistant, Russian Army Colonel Vladimir Bortnikov. She hated when he interrupted her mid-day workout.

  As deputy director of external counter-intelligence, General of the Army Tatyana Petrova was the first woman to rise so high in the SVR or its predecessor, the KGB. She had been trained at Russia’s finest universities and had started off her career in the military flying helicopters in battle in Chechnya. Along the way she had left her male counterparts behind, intellectually and militarily. She was on the fast track to become the first female SVR director. Even in her mid-forties, with her fit body, her silky blonde hair, her high cheek bones, and her elegant demeanor, she could have been confused on the street for an aging movie actor or super model. But that would have been a mistake. She was a sixth degree black belt in karate and knew how to use just about any hand-held weapon in the Russian arsenal, from knives to sniper rifles.

  Wiping her face with a towel, Tatyana stepped closer to her assistant and said, “What is it, Vladimir?”

  “General, you asked to be informed on any changes in Germany.”

  Assessing her assistant, she noticed he seemed to have a lot more gray than when he started working for her six months ago. And he was five years her junior. Maybe she was working him too hard. Note to self. . .give Vladimir leave. In December.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I think we might have a problem with Anton Zukov.”

  She threw the towel to the floor. “Zukov’s only problem is he doesn’t seem to have any contemporaries who think outside the box like him.”

  “But, ma’am. . .”

  Tatyana waved her hand as if she would strike her colonel. “What is the problem? Get to the point so I can take a shower and eat my lunch.”

  “He seems to be deviating from the plan, General.”

  If she believed in a God, she’d hope he would strike this man in his tracks if he didn’t get to the point. “And?”

  “He’s left one of the potential assassins dead in a park in Berlin.”

  She twirled her hands for him to continue.

  “And they still haven’t been able to track down that American, Jake Adams.”

  “You have got to be kidding me, Vladimir. He’s one man. And he’s not even with the CIA anymore.”

  The colonel clasped his hands together as if massaging arthritis from them. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  Tatyana Petrova considered her assistant more carefully. Something was really bothering him. “What’s the matter?”

  His mouth opened and closed a few times. “I don’t understand this direction,” Vladimir said reluctantly.

  She squeezed down on his shoulder. Maybe she should give him leave in November. “We don’t always know everything we’d like to know, Vlad. Sometimes we must just do what we’re told. As a military officer, you know this deep in your bones. It’s programmed into your DNA.” Could she give him a little more information? Maybe it would settle him down somewhat. He was like a dog outside a Korean restaurant. Okay, she assured herself, just a little more information. “As you know, Russia has lost much power in the world in the last few decades.”

  Colonel Bortnikov nodded his head as if in shame.

  “Well, we’re just trying to build ourselves back up to where we were,” Tatyana said, a slight shrug of her shoulders. “You understand?”

  “Of course, ma’am. But how do we do that by killing these men?”

  She smiled and said, “That’s easy. We won’t be pushed around the school yard again. Their agencies will think twice about sending their operatives into the field without great caution. And this caution will lead to mistakes on their part.”

  “It’s a game,” Vladimir concluded.

  “It’s always a game, my friend.” She took her hand away and patted him on the shoulder as she started for the showers.

  “But General.”

  Tatyana stopped without turning around, taking in a deep breath. Finally, she twisted to face her assistant.

  “Won’t the CIA react. . .” He hesitated as if seeking the proper word. But then he didn’t continue.

  “We hope they react,” Tatyana said. “We live in a world of action and reaction, Vlad. We’ll see how and if they respond. That’s part of the equation.” She shifted her eyes toward the door and her assistant finally took that as a sign that he was excused.

  She went back into the locker room and stepped out of her karate uniform. Then, as naked as the day she was born, she glanced at herself in the full-length mirror. Her only imperfection was a couple of scars she had gotten over the years—most were from being shot down in Chechnya. Lifting her perfectly-rounded breasts and letting them drop, she noticed they still didn’t sag but were not as uplifting as they had been in her youth. Damn gravity. Turning around, she slapped herself on the buttocks and smiled at how firm she still was in that area. She could live with that. Smiling, she stepped gracefully into the shower.

  12

  Jake woke late Sunday morning with the smell of sex in the air and his left knee aching somewhat. He rolled over in the semi-dark bedroom to find Alexandra gone, a dent still in her feather pillow. Reaching down, he found he was still naked. Okay.

  He found his backpack and pulled out some fresh underwear, socks, and a shirt, before heading off to the shower. While he let the hot water pelt his body, he thought about where he’d go next. It was one thing to simply run away from his problems, but he was endangering Alexandra by staying here. He knew that much. Somehow someone would figure out their relationship and show up to kill him. And he couldn’t put her in danger like he had with Anna. Sure Anna put herself in danger with Interpol many times, but she shouldn’t have had to watch her back while she was with Jake. Even though he was officially retired from the Agency, Jake guessed he had made too many enemies in his years there.

  He came out of the shower still toweling off and found Alexandra back in the room, laying fully clothed on her side of the bed.

  “What’s up?” Jake asked.

  “Not you.”

  “You didn’t get enough last night?”

  Raising her brows, she said, “I got plenty.”

  Jake got dressed and the two of them went to the kitchen, the smell of thick, dark coffee wafting in the air. She poured them both a cup and they sat at the small kitchen table.

  “I’ll get out of your hair today,” he said.

  “Maybe I like you in my hair.” She smiled over her cup of coffee.

  He couldn’t keep her in danger, but he also knew that was the nature of her business with the German Federal Intelligence Service. The BND had pulled back many assets during the years after reunification with East Germany, but had slowly built itself back up with the war on terror.

  “Where do you plan on going next?” Alexandra asked.

  Shrugging, he said, “I don’t know.” That was partially true, but the less she knew the better.

  “Stay on the move,” she said. “But I don’t need to tell you that. Sorry.”

  “It’s all right. It’s good to hear it from someone else. Someone I trust.”

  They stared at each other. God she was gorgeous. He knew that if it wasn’t for her job she would’ve probably been married with children by now—assuming she even wanted them.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You were wondering why I didn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Are you psychic?”

  She smiled at him. “Maybe. I don’t even consider having a boyfriend. A husband is out of the question. Not with my job. I would need a very strong man. Someone who understood what I did for a living.”

  He nodded understanding. “I better get going.”

  “I think you need a ride.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Jake rounded up his backpack, strapped one of his guns under his left arm, and covered that with a windbreaker. He wished he’d taken his leather jacket
. But there had been no room in the pack for that.

  Outside, she had Jake put his pack in the back seat and they got into her BMW. She started to drive away, a look of confusion as she glanced in the rearview mirror and turned right on a small residential street.

  “What’s the matter?” Jake asked, his eyes shifting to the right mirror and seeing nothing of interest down the street.

  “You get to know all the cars on your street,” she said. “Especially in our business.”

  “And?”

  “And there was a new one.” Her eyes concentrated behind her. “There. . .rounding the corner.”

  Jake glanced back and saw the dark green Audi following them. “Looks like two guys.”

  She picked up speed and turned left, shoving Jake against the door. Now she gunned it, the engine powering up. Home field advantage, Jake thought. She would know every way in or out of her place and take a different route almost every day. He looked behind them again. The Audi was still there but farther back. Seconds later and she entered a priority road heading toward Munich.

  “The train station is the other way,” Jake said.

  “I can’t bring you there now. They found you and they found me.”

  He studied her and knew she was right. She wouldn’t be safe at her own home now. They could pick her up and force her to tell them where Jake had gone, even if she didn’t know.

  They were flying down the two-lane road now. A sign ahead directed them toward Autobahn 95, and Jake knew that would bring them right to the outer rings of Munich. From there they could head west toward Augsburg, east toward Salzburg, or north to Nurnberg. They got onto the Autobahn and were only there for a moment before they had to decide which way to go.

  “Are they still behind us?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Persistent bastards.” He pointed to the turn ahead. “There. Take ninety-nine.”

  She quickly powered down, caught the exit and onramp to Autobahn 99 and said, “Which direction?”

  “West.”

  At the last second, she cranked the wheel left and jammed the gas down, shoving them back into their seats. Jake ran the road system in that area through his mind. Germany was great with signs, though. As long as he knew where he wanted to go eventually, down the road a ways, the signs would lead him there. And he knew his intended destination. Autobahn 96 would bring him toward Memmingen and then to Switzerland. Farther ahead, Autobahn 8 would bring him toward Augsburg, Ulm, Stuttgart and then Karlsruhe. From there they could head south into Switzerland, north to Frankfurt or beyond, or west into France.

  “Where now?” she asked calmly.

  Jake checked behind them, but he couldn’t see the Audi in the increased traffic. “Take the eight toward Stuttgart.”

  Moments later she did just that and then picked up speed to more than 200 kilometers per hour. Neither said a word for a long while, Jake racking his brain trying to understand how anyone could have found him at her place.

  “How could anyone have found me?” he asked her.

  She kept her eyes on the road. “I have no idea.”

  “Really.”

  Turning to him, her eyes strayed from the road too long before concentrating again on the task of driving at high speed. “Really,” she repeated. “You think I would sell you out, Jake?”

  That thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “No. It’s just that.” He hesitated.

  “I understood your comment on the phone before I picked you up at the train station. The Prussian man and the Spree River.”

  He guessed that much or he wouldn’t have brought it up to her in the first place. Although they both knew that Jake had killed her uncle Gunter along the Rhine River in Bonn, neither of them had ever confirmed the kill to the other. Gunter Schecht had gone rogue after retiring from German Intelligence, getting wrapped up in a scheme that included former Hungarian officers. Jake had nearly been killed by Gunter and his men, before the two of them finally shot it out in Bonn. Jake knew he had no real choice. It was self defense. Part of Jake wondered if his current situation didn’t come from that incident. But Gunter Schecht was dead.

  “Your uncle didn’t give me much of a choice,” Jake assured her.

  “I know.” She hesitated. “He was a good man at one time. A good military officer and a good Service officer. But it still hurts me to know you shot him.”

  It pained him as well. He had worked with her uncle a few times while Jake worked in Berlin. “Some things are better left alone.”

  “You think someone associated with Uncle Gunter is after you? You think they put up the million Euros?”

  “I don’t know. That’ll take some time to figure out. What did you tell your boss at the Service.”

  She turned to him again. “What do you mean?”

  “While I was in the shower you packed a bag and took it to your car. Which is why you had me put my bag in the back seat.”

  Alexandra’s eyes checked the speedometer and then settled on the Autobahn again. “I took the week off,” she finally said. “I haven’t taken a vacation in more than a year.”

  “What did you tell them?” he implored.

  “I just said I was going to take some time off. Maybe go to Paris. Maybe go to Berlin. I wasn’t specific. It’s none of their business.”

  “They must have suspected something wasn’t right with your request. Sent a crew to check on you.”

  “You think those men in the Audi were BND?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “We don’t play games like the CIA and SVR.”

  “That’s not true and you know it,” Jake scolded. “But it could have been innocent concern for your safety.”

  A tear streaked her right cheek, which she let stay there, both of her hands occupied with the driver’s wheel. Jake wiped the tear away.

  “I would never do anything to hurt you, Jake.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply that. Like I said, they could have been looking out for you. You said you hadn’t taken vacation in more than a year, so that’s out of the ordinary for you. It raised a flag.” He thought for a moment as another tear rolled down her face. “Why didn’t you ask me to bring you along?”

  She sobbed. “I know what you’d say.”

  He moved toward her and wiped her face again. He wasn’t sure why she was becoming so emotional. It was a side of her he hadn’t seen.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her.

  She cried now. Not just sobbing, but full tears and emotions pouring out of her. As she did so, she slowed the car to a reasonable pace. Jake looked in her glove box and found some tissues, handing a pile to her. Jesus, he wasn’t overly equipped to deal with a crying woman. Not when he couldn’t hold her to sooth away the tears.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Finally, she said, “I’ve been under investigation.”

  “For what?”

  “For two months.”

  “Why?”

  Recovered somewhat, she picked up speed again. “Since you were shot in Austria. My boss knew I knew you and Anna. I went to the funeral for more than just Anna. They had me check into the situation to see if it had anything to do with German state security. My conclusions were less than certain, but my superiors told me to end my investigation.”

  “And?”

  “And I didn’t. I continued to look. I thought I’d covered my tracks. And then when I heard a man had died trying to set a bomb on your car, I went to Innsbruck on my time off. I ran into a brick wall with that new Kriminal Hauptkommisar, Hermann Jung.”

  “We’ve met. He came by the hospital a couple times.”

  “I know.”

  Jake scrutinized that revelation.

  She continued, “Then I heard about the men at your apartment. How one had died and the other got away. I was concerned, so I inquired further. I’m guessing our internal division found out I’d been looking into the incidents. Your call from the train station wasn’t totally un
expected. That’s why I called you my cousin. But I called my real cousin Johann this morning. He said the Polizei came to his door last evening and asked to see his identification. Something about terrorism. He showed them his passport and driver’s license and they left. They were checking up on me. I just know it.”

  Jesus. “This is my fault, Alexandra. Just drop me off at the next train station. Get out of my life. Everything goes to hell around me.”

  “Nonsense. What happened to Anna wasn’t your fault.”

  If only it was just Anna. What about all the others who had died at his hand or while working with him? He couldn’t even count all of those. What kind of man doesn’t remember how many people he’s killed? What had he become?

  “I’m in this with you,” Alexandra said defiantly.

  Just try to tell a German woman she can’t do something. Good luck with that, Jake. “All right. But will you have any access at all to your Service?”

  She smiled now. “Yes, sir. Directly and indirectly. I have contacts all over.”

  “Outstanding.”

  “Where to next?” she asked, her hands gripping the wheel with newfound strength.

  “Luxembourg.”

  “Why there?”

  “I need to make a withdrawal. In person.”

  They drove on with great speed. At that pace, they’d be to the Duchy by afternoon, Jake guessed. He felt both good and bad about Alexandra joining him. Sure he enjoyed her company. But he didn’t want her getting caught in the crossfire when more assassins came for him. And Jake knew they’d keep coming. He felt it in his bones.

  13

  German Federal Intelligence Service (BND)

  Pullach, Germany

  Toni and Franz drove north through Garmish early that morning, not even stopping, and continued toward Munich. The BND and the Agency cooperated on many levels, and Toni had worked with them dozens of times over the years. Although many of her contacts were on assignments overseas, or had moved on to the new facility in Berlin, she still had access to BND assets after a quick phone call to her boss, CIA Director Kurt Jenkins, on the drive.