Sniper's Honor(81)

“What is he talking about?” said Reilly.

“Spy shit. There’s a secret here these jokers need to keep quiet. I haven’t figured it yet, but I’m working real hard on it.”

“We’re the good guys, we’re the last great hope, but if you publish, Ms. Reilly, you do a lot of harm. A lot of harm. We’re very uncomfortable with that.”

“See, in the old days, they just said, ‘We’ll kill you,’ ” said Swagger. “Now they say, ‘We’re uncomfortable with that.’ ”

“There’s no need to talk of killing,” said Renn. “Look, I’m not just asking for favors, I understand the quid pro quo that underlies every political transaction. I’m authorized to tell you that if you cooperate with us on this, all sorts of good stuff can happen. We can make selected deliveries of very hot intel for Reilly. When you get back to D.C., you can have the phone numbers of some very important folks who, at our request, will always call you back. Not saying you’re a failure now, no, not at all, but we can move you into the big leagues. You’d be stunned how many of D.C.’s leading journalists have been helped along by us.”

“What’re you going to get me,” said Swagger, “a new rocker?”

“Any one you want, even the deluxe version. But how about if we get your pal Nick Memphis off the Bureau shit list and back on the A team? Deputy director? That’s what he wants, right? What about if some real nice scoops fall Nikki’s way at FOX 5? That can happen. Does Miko want to go to Harvard, then Harvard Law? We hear she’s smart enough, but it isn’t just about being smart. We can make it happen. Yale, Princeton, Virginia. Where does she want to go? Be a shame for her to have to end up as a Boise State commuter student. What I’m saying is, if you’re good to us, we’ll be good to you. That’s all. If you say yes, you can drive out of here—that is, when I give you your distributor cap back. You go on back to your lives, and the good stuff starts happening. No monitoring, no observing, nothing like that. The whole thing runs on the honor system, because we know you’re honorable.”

“What if we say no?” said Reilly.

“Ouch,” said Renn. “I’d hoped that wouldn’t come up. You asked, so I guess I’ll answer. I’ve got five guys. Heavy-metal guys from some Moscow gangs. Dumber than stumps but packing a ton of heat. Boy, they love that 74, don’t they? To me it doesn’t hold a candle to the AR, but don’t tell them that. Anyhow, Jesus, don’t make me do this. It would be so tragic. These boys, you know, they like this shit. I’d have to let them loose. I have a secret to protect. It has to be protected. Here you are, standing on a pedestrian bridge in a Carpathian tourist trap, unarmed, and suddenly you’ve got six real bad operators on your case. I guess by the time I got them back here, you’d have at least an hour head start. I suppose you’d try and hide in the mountains, but an old guy with a stainless-steel ball where his hip used to be and a grandmother, over rough country, in what is basically complete wilderness, I don’t like your chances. Plus, we have a dog. I’d hate to see it happen. Guys, it’s up to you.”

Swagger looked at Reilly, who nodded.

“Tell him good,” said Reilly. “So he understands.”

That was it. He turned back to the younger man.

“We ain’t here for God, country, and baseball, and excuse me, I don’t think you are neither. We’re here for Mili Petrova, who was betrayed by everyone and everything. Nobody stood for Mili. She was all alone. Still she found a way to get her job done. But then the big boys got to her and crushed her and her memory. Now, seventy years later, you fucking birds come along, and you’re the same action. Crush Mili. Destroy Mili. She’s so goddamned inconvenient. Mili’s nothing. Mili’s disposable. Nobody cares, nobody knows, nobody gives a damn. Not this time. This time she’s got some pals. That’s us, the old man and the old lady. So if you want to go all black ops on us, we’ll go black ops. You better be good, sonny, because I may be old, but I’m still who I always was. I’m the sniper.”





CHAPTER 38


The Cave


The Carpathians


JULY 1944


A bird tweeted from the trees nearby, except it wasn’t a bird at all, and with a crash and a stumble, a large body broke free in the clearing. It was the Peasant.

“Sergeant Mili,” he called in Ukrainian, “I have returned.”

Mili felt a surge of pure bliss. He wasn’t dead at all. Nobody could kill him. He smiled as he shambled closer. From inside the cave, she heard the Teacher stir, as the mild clamor had awakened him. The Teacher came out.