The Man from Leningrad Page 5

  “Will Logan,” the man said in a barely audible voice. “I think there’s a KGB agent in here.”

  Logan poured a shot and downed it.

  “Maybe we should take this outside,” Maddux suggested.

  “Give it a few minutes. You go first and I’ll follow you.”

  Maddux made small talk with Logan, discussing topics from the weather to cars to the best-tasting vodka in Leningrad. Once the banter reached a lull, Maddux placed his money on the bar and wandered outside. He rounded the corner and found an alleyway to await his CIA contact.

  After several minutes, Logan eventually joined Maddux.

  “Let’s make this quick,” Logan said in English. “My gut is telling me that we need to be careful.”

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  “You need to sneak into Kresty Prison and get an audience with Darya Zhirkov.”

  Maddux scowled and cocked his head to one side.“Sneak into that prison?”

  “It’s the only way we’re going to find out what we need about what the Soviets are planning. Darya obviously saw something—and that’s why she’s in prison. I’m sure she’ll be willing to tell you anything you want to know. You might even promise that we’ll extract her once this is all over.”

  “Lying to her like that seems rather cruel, don’t you think?”

  Logan shrugged. “I’m not sure that’s a lie. It’s definitely not out of the realm of possibility.”

  “She would have to know a whole lot more than just what she saw on some papers in her brother’s office for you to seriously consider her as a candidate for extraction.”

  “Perhaps, but let’s not make an issue of this right now. We need to get out of here soon.”

  “Fine. So how should I plan on getting into the prison?” Maddux asked.

  “It’s not a very well-kept secret that the Soviets have a research lab inside Kresty. And as I’ve come to learn, that company you’re consulting with—what’s it called?”Logan snapped his fingers in an effort to remember but failed to do so.

  “Protek,” Maddux said.

  “Yes, Protek. I think they’re supplying that lab with parts.”

  “That would make sense,” Maddux said. “I noticed some boxes addressed to Kresty Prison when I was on a tour of the manufacturer’s facility.”

  The man’s eyes lit up.“That’s your in. Just take those over there and come up with a reason to go wandering to the fifth floor where the women are corralled. I’ll have someone drop a Kresty prison guard’s uniform by in the morning.”

  The familiar pot-bellied man staggered along the sidewalk, passing by them without giving them a second look.

  The agent gave a long stare toward the road.

  “I told you there’s nothing to worry about here,” Maddux said, reading the man’s eyes. “He’s just a drunk.”

  “You haven’t been here long enough. Just one slip up and you’re done. These KGB agents swarm like flies.”

  “Okay, I’ll get out of here,” Maddux said. “I think I know what I need to do now to find out what was on the contents of those pages. I appreciate your help.”

  Maddux turned toward the street and hustled out of the alleyway. However, before he could clear it, a firm hand slammed into his chest.

  With a furrowed brow, Maddux stopped.

  “Excuse me,” he muttered in Russian as he stared at the man’s hand.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” the man said.

  Maddux looked up and immediately recognized the man as the other half of the doting romantic couple. Without much of a pause, Maddux pushed forward past the man who grabbed Maddux by his coat collar and spun him back around.

  “I’m afraid you didn’t hear me,” the man said.

  Maddux resisted the man’s attempts to pull him back into the alley. However, it wasn’t until the sound of metal tearing through the man’s flesh did he relent.

  “Go,” Logan said.

  Maddux glanced back to see blood pouring out profusely through the attacker’s jugular vein. Rounding the corner, Maddux glanced back in time to see the woman heading for the alley, wielding a knife.

  “Good luck,” Maddux called out in Russian as he sprinted away. He wanted to stay and help Logan, but the big man could manage. Besides, Maddux only had the biggest mission of his life the next day. He needed to rest up before breaking into Leningrad’s notoriously bad prison.

  Chapter VIII

  Kresty Prison

  Leningrad, Russia

  MADDUX TAPPED the steering wheel as he waited for the guard to grant access to the old prison. Comprised of two buildings in the shape of a cross, the brick structure had stood for more than 200 years. Although initially built as a wine storage facility, its conversion provided ample space to house the city’s convicted inmates as well as those awaiting trial. And then there was a special wing dedicated to the KGB’s detainees.

  The guard lumbered up to Maddux’s van and gestured for him to roll down his window.

  “Dobryy den,” Maddux said, tipping his cap. He had scrounged up a coverall uniform along with a Protek cap at the conclusion of his mid-afternoon meeting and paid a man at the docks a hundred dollars to take his place for the delivery to Kresty Prison.

  The guard wasn’t interested in exchanging pleasantries.

  “What’s the reason for your visit?” he asked in Russian.

  “I’m here to deliver parts,” Maddux replied.

  “To what department?”

  Maddux paused and looked down at his clipboard. The answer wasn’t written anywhere on there, and he knew it. While his first inclination was to blurt out that it was for the research lab, the secrecy of it made him pause. No one was officially supposed to know about the arrangement, so mentioning it wouldn’t help him avoid suspicion.

  “Let me see here,” Maddux said.

  The guard took a couple steps back and looked at the logo painted on the side of the van.

  “You’re with Protek?” the guard asked.

  Maddux nodded.

  “Then why didn’t you say so in the first place?” the man asked, gesturing for Maddux to proceed after cranking open the gate. “Just come right on in.”

  Maddux eased onto the gas and then followed the delivery sign staked into the patchy grass growing along the paved path inside the prison walls.

  Maddux leaned forward on the wheel, glancing up at the towering walls and buildings that looked far more daunting once inside the gates than outside of them. Thick, gray clouds blanketed the sky, and a stiff breeze whipped the Soviet flag flying on a pole soaring above the grounds.

  A thump against the side of his van startled him before he slammed on the brakes. The vehicle skidded to a stop. A guard passed in front and glared at Maddux.

  “Watch where you’re going,” the guard said with a growl.

  Maddux nodded before easing back onto the gas and rumbling toward the docks. He backed up to them and turned off the van. After a deep breath, he climbed out of the vehicle and hustled around to the back doors. Using his keys, he unlocked them and then flung them open.

  “You need any help?” asked a guard, pushing a dolly as he sauntered up to see Maddux’s delivery.

  Maddux shook his head.“I’m just dropping off a few packages.”

  The guard shrugged and spun around, leaving the dolly for Maddux to use.

  Without wasting any time, Maddux piled the boxes on top of one another and secured them with a bungee cord. He kicked the the cart and yanked on the handle, pulling it back in order to maneuver around on the wheels. The guard who had lost interest once Maddux refused help stopped and turned around.

  “What are you doing?” the man asked. “You’re supposed to leave the packages on the dock. I’ll take them to the right place.”

  “I’m sorry,” Maddux said. “I just thought I would help you out today.”

  The guard chuckled.“First delivery here?”

  Maddux nodded.

  “Well, there are
a few things you need to understand,” the guard said. “Number one is under no circumstances are you to ever enter the prison.”

  Maddux remained tightlipped while watching the man intently. Templing his fingers, he turned his back on Maddux and continued to stride off as if about to begin a long lecture.”

  Maddux dashed for a nearby crowbar and rushed toward the guard, who still had his back turned.

  “Number two is—”

  Maddux smashed the man in the head, sending him straight to the ground in a heap. After glancing around to make sure no one saw the incident, Maddux dragged the man into the truck and bound his hands and feet before tossing a tarp over him.

  Maddux ripped off his delivery uniform, revealing the prison uniform Logan had delivered earlier that day.

  Maddux snatched the keys off the guard before hustling up to the fifth floor where the women were reportedly held. A single guard stood outside. With an outstretched hand, he attempted to stop Maddux before ever saying a word.

  Maddux ignored the gesture and continued until he was within striking distance of the guard. With a quick punch to his throat, Maddux rendered the man immobile. Two more haymakers to the man’s face knocked him out.

  After using the guard’s keys to unlock the holding facility, Maddux entered the large open area where women were cuffed and anchored to a wall. Snatching a clipboard off the back of the door, Maddux walked deliberately toward the far side of the room.

  “Zhirkov,” Maddux said. “Darya Zhirkov.”

  He scanned the room and found a woman cowering in the corner. Another woman gave a faint smile as she pointed toward Darya.

  Maddux approached her and then knelt beside her.

  “We need to talk,” Maddux whispered.

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I’m not who I appear to be,” Maddux said. “I know you saw what was on your brother’s documents. What was it?”

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “A friend of your brother’s,” Maddux said. “I’m work for the U.S. government. Can you tell me anything that you saw.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head.“I don’t know,” she said. “It said something about nuclear weapons at the top. I didn’t understand much. But I know that whatever it was, it was dangerous.”

  “Your brother was trying to help us prevent a war from erupting. Do you know anything else that could help us do that?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. With quivering lips, she shook her head.

  Maddux stood to leave before she tugged on his pants.

  “What?”

  She gestured for him to kneel down, and he complied.

  “There is one place you might look in his apartment,” she whispered. “He always kept a copy of all important documents in a false bottom drawer. You might be able to find something there.”

  “As I understand it, the entire apartment was searched.”

  “I doubt they searched there. It’s all I can tell you.”

  Maddux paused before standing. He leaned in with a whisper, “I’m sorry. This is all for show.”

  He slapped the woman across the face and cursed at her. It pained him to do it, but it was necessary to avoid drawing suspicion from the other inmates who might be looking to find favor if some other guard came around asking questions.

  She whimpered, withdrawing into the fetal position.

  Maddux strode out of the room, glaring at all of the women as he did. With his performance, he doubted anyone would wonder if he was a real guard.

  After exiting, Maddux replaced the guard’s keys and found a nearby empty bottle of vodka. Slipping the bottle into his hands, Maddux took a moment to survey the scene. He wondered what the man’s superior would think if he happened upon this situation. Maddux smiled before hustling downstairs.

  The man tasked with inspecting exiting vehicles didn’t even look inside Maddux’s van. With Protek delivering packages to the prison on a near daily basis, a cursory glance of the two front seats was all the guard felt necessary to approve Maddux’s exit. After waving him through, the guard lowered the gate and returned to his post.

  Maddux turned onto the road and drove straight to the nearest gas station. Wasting little time, he hopped out and called Will Logan.

  “I need your help,” Maddux said.

  “With what?”

  “I need to dispose of some trash.”

  “You just tell me where, and I’ll be there.”

  “A block away from Sixth Street and Mikhail Avenue. Meet me there in five minutes.”

  Maddux hung up and rushed back to the van. When he climbed inside, he heard the moans of the captured guard.

  Just ignore it. There’s nothing you can do about it now.

  Maddux resisted—though he wasn’t sure he could’ve lasted much longer without peeking. After five minutes, he rolled into the parking lot of a gas station situated on Sixth Street and Mikhail Avenue. Logan was already waiting.

  “Want me to bury the body?” he asked.

  Maddux nodded. “Bury it, drown it, burn it. Just whatever you do, do it so that it won’t be retrieved.”

  “Roger that,” Logan said as he dragged the body out of the van and tossed it into his trunk.

  Logan scanned the parking lot once more, admitting that there were many KGB agents who had been seen in the nearby area conducting some type of surveillance.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to help you retrieve the documents?” Logan asked.

  “No,” Maddux said. “If they’re already watching you, you’d be putting everything on the line. And that’s foolish at this point. We’ve already done the hard part. Let’s just pray that we can reap the benefits once I get my hands on these papers. If there are duplicates in Zhirkov’s apartment like Darya said, I’ll find them.”

  Maddux drove off, heading straight toward Zhirkov’s place.

  The truth is literally right around the corner.

  Maddux stomped on the gas pedal, the force thrusting him back in his seat. He didn’t have a second to waste.

  Chapter IX

  Bonn, Germany

  PRITCHETT ALWAYS HESITATED to send his operatives deep behind enemy lines. Despite the presence of fellow CIA agents, the lack of communication always left him nervous until he was satisfied that his people would return safely home. When it came to Maddux, Pritchett always experienced a heightened sense of anxiety. Maddux’s civilian job made him less suspicious to the country’s secret police, but it also meant any trouble could put him in a situation that might be too challenging to talk his way out of. And with Pritchett devoid of any living children of his own, he viewed Maddux a son and would err on the side of protecting him.

  Pritchett was reviewing some reports in his office late in the afternoon when his secretary knocked on his open door.

  “This just came for you, sir,” she said as she held out an envelope.

  He took it from her and inspected the writing on the front, which looked unfamiliar.

  “Do you know who delivered this?” Pritchett asked.

  “Underhill brought it to me. He said it came through some old procedure but believed it was legitimate.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  He watched her disappear into the hallway before turning his full attention to the contents of the package. Using his hook, he ripped open the top before pulling out a note written on a single sheet of paper.

  The message followed CIA protocol, albeit one that was rather outdated. But Pritchett had no reason to believe it was sent by the Russians in an attempt to fool him. When he saw the code name of the agent at the top, he gasped: John Hambrick.

  “LNO struggling. Nothing I can do to help. Assistance required.”

  Based on the brevity of the letter, Pritchett could only assume that Hambrick was being careful not to put himself in a precarious situation should the message get intercepted. He understood his deep cover was one of the most valuable assets the CIA possessed in the Cold
War. The risk that Hambrick took just to worm his way into the central brain trust of the Soviet war machine was harrowing. If that were lost, a great opportunity would be lost with it.

  Pritchett examined all the phrases and understood what Hambrick was trying to say far beyond the simple words and phrases that he used. The term “LNO” was the CIA cryptonym for “U.S. operative,” presumably Maddux since the note had found its way to Pritchett’s desk. There were no other agents working in Russia from the Bonn station.

  “Struggling” was a phrase used to describe danger, helping Pritchett understand that Maddux was in serious trouble. Adding “nothing I can do to help” was straightforward but would be meaningless if the KGB didn’t understand the rest of the communiqué. And the final expression for “assistance required”was the CIA’s way of saying that someone needed extraction. Hambrick was trying to say that the situation was so precarious that leaving Maddux there meant endangering his life or risking possible arrest by the KGB.

  Pritchett was relieved to know that while the message wasn’t the best news, at least the KGB hadn’t determined definitively that Maddux was working for the CIA. That would’ve contained a different phrase, the one reserved for when an agent’s cover was blown. And if that were the case, Maddux would’ve likely already been arrested. But the mere suspicion was enough to alarm Pritchett, especially when it came to an agent that he cared about as his own.

  Pritchett got up and lumbered down the hallway to Dex’s office.

  “Come with me,” Pritchett said. “We need to talk.”

  Dex dropped what he was doing and hustled after Pritchett.

  “What is it?” Dex asked as they reached the conference room.

  Pritchett shut the door before taking a seat at the head of the table.

  “It’s Maddux,” he said.

  “Is he alive?”

  Pritchett nodded. “As of right now. But I’m afraid he might not be much longer if we don’t pull him out of there.”

  “Isn’t he scheduled to come home tomorrow anyway?” Dex asked.

  “Well, you know Maddux. That’s plenty of time for him to find trouble on his own.”

  “Give Maddux more credit than that. He’s gotten savvier since you first paired me with him. He’s honing his instincts as a spy and has a good idea about when it’s time to cut bait.”