Endgame by Blake Banner

Author:Blake Banner [Banner, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-04T16:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

It was the final leg of a grueling five thousand mile journey that had been intended to ensure we penetrated Russia and reached Moscow completely undetected. It had been a partial failure. Instead, we had been detected by the Russian mob the moment we’d set foot on Russian soil, a Russian mob that was being moved and used by Omega.

The drive from Vologda to Moscow was a mere three hundred miles, four hours or less along good roads, through lush, inhabited countryside dotted with farms and pretty cottages. The Lada was a bone-shaker, but we were in luxury. We didn’t talk to Phil, as we had initially planned, because the STD, the communication device, was in one of the crates, and we didn’t want to open them till we were out of sight.

Once in Moscow, we made for the Domodedovo airport, where we left the truck on the top floor at the multi-story parking garage, with its lethal cargo. Next, we took a taxi to the vast shopping mall at Novoyegor Yevskoye Shosse. There, we replaced the luggage we had abandoned on the train, bought some more expensive clothes, cleaned up and had a shave in the public toilets. At ten AM, we found an internet café and booked a couple of business suites in the names of Albert Shipman and Mogens Knudsen, at the Savoy Moscow, on Ulitsa Rozhdestvenka, a mere Molotov cocktail’s throw from Red Square. Finally, we took another cab and arrived at the hotel as two prosperous American businessmen exploiting their expense accounts.

It was one of Jim’s theories that nobody attracts less unwanted attention than a successful businessman in a five star hotel. If law enforcement, or any organization for that matter, are looking for a fugitive, they will always start their search with friends and family, then move on to cash-only dives where no questions are asked. They never check the five star hotels. It’s a theory I agree with.

The Savoy in Moscow is all about old world luxury, and it’s about as old world luxurious as you can get. We were ushered in by the doorman while a buttons collected our bags from the trunk of the taxi. A man with a pencil mustache and a burgundy blazer checked us in with a fake French accent and the buttons was instructed to show us to our suites. Before we went up, I told the concierge I wanted to rent a Jaguar. He said he’d see to it and we could sign the paperwork when we next came down.

The suite was everything you would expect it to be: leather armchairs and sofas that looked like genuine antiques, a dining table and four chairs in heavy mahogany, a walnut desk with a black leather chair and parquet floors inlaid with art deco designs. Heavy drapes hung beside tall windows to a small balcony, harnessed with heavy gold cords, and a fire burned in a dark green marble fireplace. It was over the top, but it was Russian over the top.

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