The Warsaw Protocol: A Novel(95)
Which would make him the first target.
“They should be far enough down the tunnel that we can head after them. You don’t happen to know another way back to that elevator that doesn’t involve the tunnel they took?”
“Actually, I do.”
* * *
Eli followed Ivan.
Thankfully, the Russian had volunteered to stay in front of him. The big man carried a gun in one hand and the sealed packet in the other. Munoz had handed it over back in the chamber.
He debated whether to kill the fat Slav and take his chances with anybody waiting above. But the Russian foreign service, the SVR, was every bit as ruthless as its predecessor, the KGB. Its staff and resources were endless, and there would literally be no place to hide anywhere on the globe. Not to mention the Americans, French, Iranians, North Koreans, and Chinese who would want to exact revenge for their losses, too. The smart play, the only play, was to allow Ivan his moment and get out of this mine, and away, with his five million euros. The Pantry was still one level below him and he could barter it to the Poles.
Personally, he would have killed Malone and the others back in the chamber. But Ivan had made it clear that was not to happen. He did not want to antagonize the Americans any further by generating another martyr they could rally behind. Better to let Malone and Stephanie Nelle be embarrassed over their failure to secure the information.
They kept walking, following Konrad down the dark tunnel, their lights illuminating the way. The chilly breeze in their face felt good and brought the anticipated comfort of fresh air above.
Around two bends and they came to the elevator.
Konrad stopped before the closed doors. “When do I get paid?”
“That not my problem,” Ivan said.
Konrad pointed at Eli. “It’s his problem. One hundred thousand euros. And no one said anything about guns and shooting. Weapons are not allowed here. We could all be in trouble if anyone heard that shot.”
“But apparently no one did,” Eli said.
“You said I would be paid once I led you to that statue. It’s done. Where’s my money.”
Ivan raised his gun and fired.
* * *
Cotton heard a shot.
From somewhere in the echoing darkness.
“How far to the elevators?” he asked Patrycja.
“Just ahead.”
* * *
Eli motioned and Munoz dragged Konrad’s body back down the tunnel and into one of the offshoots they’d just passed.
“Was that necessary?” he asked Ivan.
“We can’t afford that witness.”
But he needed Konrad to get back to the Pantry. Now another way would have to be found.
Damn Russians.
“Can you afford me as a witness?” he asked.
Ivan chuckled. “I was told to leave you be. You have friends in Kremlin who like doing business with you. No worry.” Ivan motioned with the packet. “We have what we want.”
Some comfort, but not enough, since Russians lied.
Munoz returned.
He wondered how long it would be before the body was found. Hours? Unlikely. Days? Probable. Which was fine. He’d already thought it all through and saw Munoz had been thorough, handing over Konrad’s fob that activated the elevator.
“We go up to Level III and blend in with the tourists leaving for the day. That way”—he motioned with the fob—“this gets recorded as having been used to leave from down here. We remove these coveralls and walk right out with the rest of the visitors. Nobody the wiser.”
Ivan smiled, then reached out and clamped a paw on his right shoulder.
“Good plan.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Czajkowski still sat at the table in the meeting hall. A few people had wandered in and out, but no one had paid him any attention, thinking him a mine employee thanks to the coveralls. Sonia was dealing with the mine manager, checking out the situation and determining how they would proceed. She’d thought it best he wait here, which had given him time to speak with Anna.
Interesting how his fate might rest in the hands of two women, one his estranged wife whom he’d once loved, the other a woman whom he now loved. Both working in concert, their goal the same.
To save his ass.
Some men might see that as emasculating. Not him.
His entire life he’d tried to do the right thing. But defining right had sometimes proven tricky. Dealing with the communists had required extreme measures. Both offensive and defensive. Back then they’d lumped it all under the label of “resistance.” An easy thing to describe. Difficult to understand, since its actions took many differing forms. Eventually, he’d come to learn the difference between revolution and resistance. Revolution looked ahead to what could be. Resistance dreamed of the past and a restoration of what once existed. Both, though, were paid for in exile, prison, torture, and death. He, and millions of others, had resisted the communists, wanting nothing more than a free Poland restored.
It had been a war.
Exactly how the communist government described it, declaring that there will be no turning back from socialism. And the government supported that declaration with fifty thousand SB internal security forces deployed throughout the country, who broke strikes, coerced, and intimidated the people with death, violence, and fear. Spies played an integral part on both sides.