Grizzly glared at her. “He say you like history. Say something smart.”
“Smart?” she asked, meekly. It was her first word since he started questioning them.
“Tell me about city. Something I not know.”
Allison racked her brain, trying to remember one of the stories she had learned about Saint Petersburg since her arrival. For the past hour, she hadn’t been able to keep her mouth shut, spouting random facts like a knowledgeable tour guide. But now that she needed one to save her life, she was drawing a complete blank. Which made her even more anxious.
Payne noticed the fear in her eyes and started to speak for her again. “We went drinking last night, and she told me—”
Grizzly interrupted him. “I no care what she say then. I care what she say now.”
“Tell him, honey.”
As luck would have it, Payne’s comment about drinking actually helped her remember one of the best stories she had heard about the city’s history. That wasn’t his intent—she hadn’t shared the story in their time together—but it triggered her memory.
“Did you know,” she said, her voice cracking, “that Peter the Great opened the first museum in Saint Petersburg?” She took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure as the soldiers continued staring at her. “He wanted to bring culture to the city that he created and figured a museum would be a great way to start. Once it was built, though, he was worried that no one would use it, so he promised everyone a free shot of vodka when they reached the museum’s exit. To this day, the residents of Saint Petersburg love their culture almost as much as free vodka.”
Grizzly’s English wasn’t great, but he knew enough to grasp the meaning of her words. Handing back her passport, he said, “This is good story.”
“Thanks,” she said, relieved. “I’m glad you liked it.”
He stepped back and patted Payne on his shoulder. “You are correct. She is smart beach bunny. You are lucky man.”
Payne nodded. “I know.”
“Keep eye on her. Other soldiers not friendly like me.”
With that, Grizzly walked away, followed closely by the other two soldiers. They cut across the busy square, conducting more random searches in the heart of the city.
Payne waited a few seconds as Allison trembled against him. Then he asked, “Are you all right? I thought you were going to have a stroke.”
“I still might,” she mumbled, burying her face against his chest.
Payne smiled. He thought back to the video of her at the Peterhof. She had broken down for about a minute, and then found the courage to sneak away. “I have to admit, you started out shitty, but you finished strong. You’re tougher than you think.”
“Well, I think I’m going to vomit.”
Payne laughed. Early in his career, he had often felt the same way at the end of a mission. “If you have to puke, do it on the giant horse. Not me.”
40
Alexei Kozlov used to work for the Federal Security Service (FSB) of the Russian Federation, the organization that has handled domestic security in Russia since the KGB was disbanded in 1995. Over the years, several FSB officers had been removed from service because of criminal misconduct—mostly extortion, human-rights violations, and payoffs from the Russian Mafia.
Kozlov had been fired for all three. And more.
Nowadays, he used the skills he had learned and the connections he had made while in the FSB to become one of the best-paid assassins in Russia.
Not only was he highly trained, he also had a taste for blood.
His latest victim was a man named Richard Byrd. An American entrepreneur. Kozlov had put a bullet in his brain at the Peterhof, and then casually slipped away.
Normally, that would have been the end of things. The contract would have been complete, and Kozlov could have gone home. But in this case, he still had more work to do.
When Kozlov was hired, his employer didn’t know where Byrd was headed but guessed he would surface in Moscow or Saint Petersburg. Probably at one of the major museums. Other than that, Kozlov wasn’t given much information. He was told to locate Byrd, determine what he was looking for, and then kill him before he had a chance to leave the country.
It sounded simple enough for a man like Kozlov.
Since he lived in Moscow, he had started his search there, staking out the Pushkin State Museum and the cultural facilities near Red Square. His employer wanted him to keep his manhunt highly confidential, which meant he wasn’t able to show Byrd’s picture around the city or hire additional personnel to locate the target. Instead, he used the FSB database to search hotel reservations, track credit card purchases, and monitor phone logs.