The Man from Leningrad Page 17
Chapter XXXI
MADDUX DIDN’T RESIST when the Soviet guards tied his hands behind his back and shoved him toward a small holding facility a few meters from the border. His primary concern was for Rose, who was being treated equally as rough physically. However, he was disgusted at the way the guard ogled her, peppering her with lurid comments. Defending her now would be little more than a suicide mission that wouldn’t stop what the guards suggested they were going to do with her. The whole situation nauseated him.
The border guard who had flushed Zhirkov and Darya out of their hiding place answered to the name of Valdimir Smyslov. He puffed his chest out as he acknowledged some of his underlings while walking inside.
“This is going to go down as the greatest day in my life,” Smyslov said. “The day I captured two traitors and two American spies.”
While briefly considering a reprisal of the story fed to the Moscow police officer, Maddux realized the border outpost had far too many resources and would be only able to verify that he was lying. The number of options remaining to devise an escape were dwindling fast.
Zhirkov, who had been walking behind Maddux, quickened his pace so that the two men were walking side by side.
“You play chess, don’t you?” Zhirkov whispered.
“Yeah,” Maddux before he glanced over his shoulder at Rose.
“You any good?”
Maddux huffed a laugh through his nose and shook his head.“I don’t know. I never could beat my old man.”
“Not many people in Russia have ever beaten the great Ivan Hambrick. He’s one of the best in all of Moscow. His nickname is the Rook of Wrath. It’s his signature move to place his opponent into checkmate.”
“I should’ve known. He always enjoyed ending the game by getting me with his rook.”
“So you’re not very good.”
“Well, I did play him to a stale mate once.”
Zhirkov’s eyebrows shot upward. “That’s all I need to hear. And at this point, it’s our best chance.”
“What are you talking about?” Maddux asked, bewildered at Zhirkov’s odd line of questioning. Maddux watched Zhirkov hustle up the line to Smyslov.
“Smyslov,” Zhirkov said. “Vladimir Smyslov. I remember that name. You’re the disgraced chess champion of Leningrad who was caught cheating in the city championships.”
Smyslov stopped and narrowed his eyes, glaring at Zhirkov.“I never cheated. That was a lie my opponent made up because he was embarrassed that he lost to me.”
“Well, before you make a phone call to your superiors about our capture, I propose we have a little fun,” Zhirkov said.
“I happen to enjoy my work, especially when I get the opportunity to shoot traitors between the eyes.”
“I’m sure you might derive some pleasure from such an activity, but I have a feeling that you’d rather be playing chess, especially a high-stakes game.”
“What kind of stakes are we talking about?” Smyslov asked.
“If you win, you get all the money in my bank account and get to turn us in, shoot us, whatever. You will be the hero. If you lose, we go free.”
Smyslov chuckled. “You really think you can beat me in a game of chess?”
“I didn’t say I was playing, unless you want me to. And I was a junior champion in Perm where I grew up. But you can also choose to play our American friend as well instead if it makes you nervous to face me.”
“I would crush you, and you know it,” Smyslov said. “However, I will take great pride in dismantling the American and then taking your money—and then shooting all of you.”
“The American it is,” Zhirkov announced before turning toward Maddux and giving him a quick wink. Rose’s eyes widened as she stared and subtly shook her head at Maddux.
Smyslov led them inside to a small room with a table and a pair of chairs. He ordered someone to bring his chess set to the room and set it up.
“You ready for this?” Zhirkov asked Maddux.
“I guess. Do you think Smyslov will keep his word?”
“I hope we get the chance to find out,” Zhirkov said, patting Maddux on the back. “Good luck, comrade.”
Maddux asked to have his bindings removed, but Smyslov declined, instead only allowing for Maddux’s hands to be in front of him instead of behind.
“What assurances do we have that you will do what you agree to if I win?” Maddux asked.
Smyslov sat down across from him and laughed heartily.“The fact that you think you have a chance is the most ridiculous thing I have heard all day. But I feel the same. What assurances do I have that your friend has five hundred thousand rubles for me to plunder after I defeat you and kill all of you?”
“I guess we will have to operate in good faith.”
“We must,” Smyslov said. “And as a gesture of good will, I will let you be white and move first.”
Maddux forced a smile and nodded. The game began, and he worked quickly to castle his king. Over the next hour, both men mounted attacks and defended them as well. The smug look Smyslov had when he first sat down was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow. Maddux saw an opening after Smyslov was forced into a poor play. However, Maddux tried not to get too excited. Many times while playing his father, the prospect to emerge victorious was snuffed out at the last moment, leaving Maddux slack-jawed and questioning how he had squandered away such an opportunity.
But with so much at stake, Maddux didn’t mull over any what-ifs during the match. He was focused on winning all their freedom. A few minutes later, he maneuvered his rook into position, placing the black king in checkmate.
Maddux announced the victory as if he were reading the ingredients from a meal in a cookbook.
“Checkmate,” he said.
Smyslov arched an eyebrow and withdrew from the table.“That was a surprising move,” he said. “I’ve only heard of one other man in Russia who uses his rook as an assassin.”
“Assassins are everywhere on the board. That you can’t spot them is what makes them what they are.”
Smyslov reached his hand across the table to shake Maddux’s.“You’re not bad for an American. If we ever play again, I won’t go so easy on you.”
Maddux restrained the urge to laugh. He’d just beaten the former Leningrad city champion in a great match, a contest that was played competitively from start to finish.
“So, are we free to go?” Maddux asked.
Smyslov paced around the room, scratching his chin and staring blankly at the ceiling.
“I tell you what,” Smyslov began, “I will let you go on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Zhirkov asked.
Smyslov looked at Zhirkov. “You give me access to your bank account.”
“That wasn’t our deal,” Zhirkov said.
“I’m changing it. And if you don’t like it, we can go back to my original offer, which is nothing but lead bullets.”
Maddux shot a glance at Zhirkov. The look was clear—take the deal.
Zhirkov sighed and asked for a piece of paper. He wrote down all his banking information and handed it to Smyslov.
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s not going to do you any good wherever you’re going because you’re never coming back.”
“You’ve been most gracious,” Maddux said. “Now, can we return to our journey?”
Smyslov looked at the sheet of paper in his hand. “One moment. I need to verify this account of yours.”
He exited the room, locking the door and then leaving the captives alone. Two armed men stood guard in the hallway.
“We need to keep our mouths shut,” Maddux said. “I think Smyslov is a wild card.”
“At least he didn’t cheat,” Zhirkov said.
“Not yet anyway,” Rose said.
Maddux exhaled slowly. “Hopefully, this will all be over within a few minutes.”
“How much is in that account?” Rose asked.
“Well over a million rubles,” Zhirkov said.
Zhirkov grinned. “Enterprising people can find money when there isn’t any.”
“You mean bribes?”
“Bribes, assurance payments, bonuses—you can call them whatever you like. It’s no different than what happens in your country’s political system. Everyone here just looks the other way because that’s how we get things done.”
Smyslov returned to the room moments later along with a guard for each one of the prisoners.
“Did everything check out?” Zhirkov asked.
“Surprisingly well,” Smyslov said. “Thank you for the chess match and for the money.”
“So, we’re done here?” Maddux asked.
Smyslov didn’t look at his captives, instead directing his gaze at one of the guards.
“Lead them outside and shoot them,” Smyslov said.
“What?” Zhirkov said, struggling as he was taken by one of the guards. “We had a deal. You agreed to release us and—”
“I changed the terms,” Smyslov said with a faint smile. “Never trust a cheater.”
Chapter XXXII
A FOG ROLLED ACROSS the field near the border, the ten-foot high barbed wire fence creating a buffer zone of about a hundred meters from Finland. Guard towers were spread evenly along the fence. Spotlights swung back and forth, creating an ambient light as the guards marched Maddux and Rose through the tilled soil.
Maddux grunted as he inched forward, stumbling whenever his accompanying soldier delivered a push in the back.
Rose glanced at him, her forehead lined with worry.
“Is this how it’s going to end?” she asked, her voice starting to crack.
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“Kicking rocks certainly isn’t going to help us,” she said.
He knew what she meant. For the past fifty meters, he attempted to draw out the blades on his shoes. But the spring mechanism that released them was jammed, and he had no way of freeing it.
“It’s not working,” he said. “Something is wrong, and I can’t fix it.”
When they were in the border office, Maddux considered smashing his foot down and forcing out the blades. But there were too many guns.
However, this death march that seemed never ending was the ideal place to attempt a last-ditch effort.
If only these damn shoes would work now.
As they bumbled along, Maddux listened to the guards, who seemed to take the assignment in stride and were unfazed by the gravity of the moment for their prisoners.
For Maddux, survival was simple—slam his shoe against a hard surface and fight like hell. But in the soft dirt, there was nothing to help him. He even considered kicking one of the guards in the head to loosen the blades. But against the soil prevented Maddux from having the confidence to generate enough height to hit the man in the head. And even then Maddux wasn’t sure it would work. If he failed, it’d likely be all over for him.
They continued to trudge along until a strong odor began to waft toward them.
“What’s that smell?” Maddux asked in Russian.
“Rotting carcasses,” the guard responded. “You’ll be joining them soon.”
At that moment, Maddux tumbled to the ground, tripping over something. It was Rose.
“Get up,” Maddux’s guard barked.
He was about to stand up when he felt a tug on his shoe. Glancing down, he saw Rose fiddling with something on his sole. A moment later, the blades sprang out and locked into place.
She smiled as she looked up at him before slicing the bindings off her wrists.
“Whatever you do, don’t miss.”
With that directive, Maddux shredded the rope around his hands then scrambled to his feet. Without hesitating, he swung his leg around, gashing the soldier’s thigh. He moaned in pain and grabbed at the wound before dropping his weapon.
Maddux dove to the ground and picked up the gun. He rolled over once and shot the guard in the head. The other guards panicked at the sound and looked back in time to watch their comrade fall. Maddux then picked off the guard next to Rose.
She dove into the dirt, wrestling the gun away from the man as he gasped for air. With one bullet, she ended his struggle and then focused on the other two guards.
Zhirkov and Darya seized the opportunity to flee from the gunfight. They held hands as they ran. One of their guards wheeled around to take a shot, but instead took a bullet to the back of the head.
The final guard remaining slunk to the ground in an effort to reduce his target size, but Maddux sprayed several rounds at him, two finding their target.
He then walked up to each guard and put a single bullet in their head to ensure they were all dead. Next, he directed everyone to take the clothes off the soldiers and follow his lead. Then they dragged all the dead bodies into the open grave the Soviets maintained. A few minutes later, they were all marching back toward the border station with their heads down.
Maddux figured no one was alarmed by the gunshots since that’s what the guards had been sent out there to do.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” he said. “Just play it cool.”
Maddux spotted a transport vehicle parked around the side of the building. He poked his head inside and noticed the keys were in the ignition.
“This’ll do,” he said. “Load up. Zhirkov, you’re up front with me. Ladies, in the back.”
Zhirkov joined him and didn’t look up, avoiding as much attention as possible. Maddux turned the ignition, and the truck roared to life. He peeled out onto the road and rumbled toward the checkpoint. As he got nearer, a light was shone on the vehicle. Maddux just waved and kept going, assuming the guards weren’t going to shoot one of their own. And he was right.
Much to the bewilderment of the Soviet guards, Maddux crashed their vehicle through the final barrier. They traveled along for a few hundred meters before arriving at the Finnish border.
Maddux slowed to a stop once he reached the post and held his hands up.
“We’re not Soviets,” he said. “We’re seeking asylum.”
A Finnish guard inspected the vehicle and retrieved the weapons from Maddux and the rest of the group.
“We need to speak to the U.S. consulate,” Maddux told the guard.
The man smiled and shook Maddux’s hand.“Welcome to Finland,” the soldier said. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Chapter XXXIII
Two days later
Bonn, Germany
MADDUX TUNED OUT Pritchett’s tirade while sitting in the old man’s office. Pritchett was so animated his patch swung up, revealing the glass eye inserted into his left socket. During the tongue lashing, Maddux imagined a parrot sitting on Pritchett’s shoulder and pictured a raging sea tossing the ship around as Pritchett delivered orders to the sailors. It was far more interesting than the speech Washington was making him deliver to a rogue agent. Maddux glanced at Rose who was wringing her hands and staring at her feet.
“Now,” Pritchett said as he walked around his desk to shut the door, “I can tell you what I really think.”
Rose looked up, her eyes wide. Maddux chuckled.
“You do a great impersonation of an angry man,” he said.
“I wouldn’t have to do one if you would’ve just put those explosives on that damn sub in the Arctic,” Pritchett said.
“I think we all know how fortunate we were that the mission in Barentsburg failed,” Maddux said. “We would’ve never known about all the other things the Soviets were planning, thanks to John—or Ivan, your choice—Hambrick.”
“The microdot was a stroke of genius,” Pritchett said as he looked at Rose. “And according to our sources in Moscow, Hambrick remains in good standing with the military, and no one suspects him of any foul play.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Maddux said.
“You might also like to hear that there were actually two subs launched,” Pritchett
said. “If you had been able to eliminate the sub, we would’ve certainly had a false sense of security over the issue. We never heard a thing about a Soviet sub launching from Siberia to attack the West Coast. It would’ve been a blood bath for sure.”
“And the Russians haven’t viewed attacks on their subs as acts of war?” Rose asked.
“The Russians can’t find their subs. Both of them sunk deep on the bottom of their respective oceans. By the time they have the technology to pull them up to the surface, no one will care or even remember.”
“What about Zhirkov and Darya?” Maddux asked. “What will happen to them?”
“They will both be integrated into American life, Zhirkov serving as a consultant to the Pentagon and Darya enrolling at the university of her choosing,” Pritchett said. “Any more questions?”
“I have a few more about my father,” Maddux said.
Rose stood. “That’s my cue to leave. I need to get back to my lab.”
“You can stay,” Maddux said.
“No, she can’t,” Pritchett said. “But it doesn’t matter. I can’t tell you anything else. All I can say is that what you did was reckless and we’re fortunate that the outcome wasn’t disastrous for the U.S. intelligence community. If you haven’t figured it out, your father is a big deal—a big deal that no one is supposed to know about.”
Maddux nodded. “I see. So, my sacrifice for this country isn’t enough to warrant at least a few more answers to questions I have about him.”
“Maybe another time,” Pritchett said. “But for now, his mission remains highly classified.”
“But I know what he does,” Maddux said. “He works as an engineer to help design missile defense systems.”
“That’s what he does—but that’s not the only reason he’s there. And I’m afraid I’ve said too much.”
Maddux sighed and stood.“Well, thanks anyway,” Maddux said. “Hopefully, you won’t have to yell at me any more.”
Pritchett chuckled. “I doubt that’ll be the case. But damn fine job, Maddux. Damn fine job.”
Maddux followed Rose back to the lab. Once they were alone, she gave him a big hug and kissed him on the cheek. Tears started to stream down her face.