The Nazi's Son by Andrew Turpin

The Nazi's Son by Andrew Turpin

Author:Andrew Turpin [Turpin, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788750110
Publisher: The Write Direction Publishing
Published: 2019-11-05T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Twenty-Nine

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Leningrad Oblast

The strip of flat, recently laid tarmac that comprised the M10 highway curved northeast through a flat expanse of fields and pine trees that stretched as far as Johnson could see, beneath a chilly ice-blue sky. Despite the warmer spring weather, there were still patches of snow on the fields, particularly up against the hedges, where it had drifted.

A blue signpost read Vyborg 56, Helsinki 311. Katya kept the Lada moving at a steady 110 kilometers an hour. Once they had reached beyond the city limits of St. Petersburg, the traffic had become light; there was little to hold them up.

Johnson checked the map on his phone. From the town of Vyborg, situated near the head of the Gulf of Finland, it was about sixty kilometers to the border crossing at Vaalimaa and about forty kilometers to the other main border post at Nuijamaa.

But by now he was becoming anxious and irritated at her continued reluctance to tell him her planned route out of the country. It seemed a dogmatic approach, doubtless something that her father had ingrained into her rather than something she was actively thinking about in the current situation. She was young, and he had to assume she had little experience in assessing and dealing with potential threats from Russian counterintelligence officers.

On the other hand, she obviously did have a proper plan that had been set up by her father, who had known what he was doing.

They bypassed Vyborg to their left and then, rather than continuing along the M10 to Vaalimaa, Katya turned right onto the 41K-84, which led to the alternative Nuijamaa border post.

To their right lay the silvery waters of the head of the Gulf of Finland, which by that stage was no more than a series of lakes connected by narrow channels.

At a Tatneft gas station on the left side of the highway, a solitary customer was standing next to his pickup beneath a large overhead canopy. A pump assistant who was filling the truck with fuel for him looked up at the sound of the Lada’s engine—there were few cars on the highway, and he was probably hoping for another customer, Johnson surmised.

But Katya braked hard opposite the gas station and, with a slight squeal of tires, turned off the highway and accelerated sharply in the opposite direction, down a narrow tree-lined lane.

They rounded a bend, and there in front of them to their right was the lake, with a long jetty that stretched far out into the blue-black waters.

To Johnson’s surprise, moored to the jetty and dwarfing everything around it was an enormous ship, which he estimated must have been about 240 feet long and 30 feet high. He stared at the ship—a boat of this size was the last thing he had expected to see in the middle of rural Russia, surrounded by trees. The ship was heavily laden with timber; tree trunks were stacked high on deck, dwarfing the men he could see walking alongside them.



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