“I need ten men, three cars, mini-Uzis, now. Seal both ends of a street called Chisti Pereulok. I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”
It was half-past midnight.
At ten minutes after one o’clock Monk arose and bade the Patriarch good night.
“I don’t suppose we shall meet again, Your Holiness. I know you will do the best you can for this land and people you love so much.”
Alexei II arose also and accompanied him to the door.
“With God’s good grace, I shall try. Good-bye, my son. May angels guard you.”
For the moment, thought Monk, as he descended the stairs, a few warriors from the North Caucasus will do nicely.
The fat valet was there as usual, holding out his coat.
“No coat, thank you, Father,” he said. The last thing he needed was something to slow him up. He took out his mobile phone and tapped in a number. It was answered at the first ring.
“Monakh,” he said.
“Fifteen seconds,” replied a voice. Monk recognized Magomed, the senior of the protectors Gunayev had assigned to him. Monk pulled the street door open a few inches and peered out.
Down the narrow street a single Mercedes waited near a dim streetlight. It contained four men, one at the wheel and three with mini-Uzi machine pistols. The white plume rising from the rear in the bitter night indicated the engine was running.
In the other direction Chisti Pereulok debouched into a small square. Waiting in th
e shadows of the square were two other black cars. On foot or four wheels, anyone wishing to leave the alley would have to pass the ambush.
At the end where the single car waited, another vehicle approached, its “Taxi” light burning yellow above the windshield. The watchers let it come abreast. Clearly it had come to pick up their target. Bad luck for the taxi driver; he would die too.
The taxi came abreast of the Mercedes and there was a double clink as two grapefruit-sized pieces of metal hit the icy road and skittered under the sedan. Hardly had the taxi cleared it than Monk, behind the street door, which was by then an inch open, heard the double whump of the grenades going off.
Simultaneously a large delivery truck rolled into the square at the other end, rumbled across the entrance to the alley, and stopped. The driver leaped from the cab into the road and began to sprint down the alley.
Monk nodded once at the trembling priest, opened the door wide, and stepped into the street. The taxi was almost opposite him, rear door swinging open. He threw himself inside. From the front seat a strong arm reached back and dragged him the rest of the way in. The running truck driver followed.
In reverse gear the taxi roared back the way it had come. From behind the immobile truck came a spray of bullets as someone flat on the ground used a submachine gun. Then the two charges under the chassis of the truck went off and the firing ceased.
One of the men had managed to get out of the Mercedes and was standing groggily by the rear door, trying to raise his gun. The rear fender of the taxi caught him in the shins and sent him flying.
Out of the alley, the taxi slewed sideways, skidded on the ice, recovered, moved into forward gear, and sped off. The gas tank in the Mercedes exploded and finished the job.
Magomed turned from the front seat and Monk caught the flash of his teeth beneath the black Zapata moustache.
“You make life interesting, Amerikanets.”
In the small square at the far end of the alley Colonel Grishin stood contemplating the ruined truck that blocked the access. Beneath it, two of his men were lying dead, killed by the two small charges lashed beneath the chassis and triggered from inside the cab. Peering around the edge of the vehicle he could see his other car burning at the far end of the narrow street.
He took his mobile phone and punched in seven numbers. He heard the mobile phone he had dialed trill twice. Then a panicky whisper said, “Da.”
“He got away. You have what I want?”
“Da.”
“Usual place. At ten this morning.”
¯
THE small church of All Saints of Kulishki was almost empty at that hour. A verger tended the altar and two babushkas, cleaning women, were dusting. A young priest entered, genuflected at the altar, crossed himself, and disappeared through a panel in the wall toward the vestry behind the altar.