Private Moscow (Private 15) - Page 92

“We’re in,” Mo-bot said. “I’m going to copy his entire drive.”

A status bar filled the screen, displaying a job completion percentage. The klaxon, which had been constant since we’d triggered the alarm, suddenly fell silent.

“They’ll have started checking the building,” Dinara warned.

I looked at the status bar, which was three-quarters of the way along. Mo-bot’s tech was impressive. Copying an entire hard drive in such a short space of time was no mean feat. Even so, we were in a precarious situation.

“Anything I can do to hurry this along?” I asked.

“You can have something done fast, or you can have it done well,” Mo-bot replied.

“I just want it done,” I told her sharply.

“I know you’re under a lot of pressure, Jack Morgan, so I’m going to forgive your tone,” she replied. “Almost … There.”

The status bar disappeared.

“You’re good to go,” Mo-bot confirmed. “Just grab the USB and get the hell out of Dodge.”

I didn’t wait to be told twice. I pulled the USB drive from the port, and Dinara and I scrambled over the desk, jumped through the doorway and ran along the corridor toward the elevators.

We took a car to the first floor and stepped into a lobby full of people being allowed back into the building.

“They know it was a false alarm,” Dinara whispered, translating the muttered conversations around us.

We pushed to the edge of the crowd, and made our way to the exit.

“Salko,” Dinara whispered urgently.

I followed her eye-line to see a grizzled man in his late fifties. He wasn’t much taller than Dinara, and his wrinkled face looked as though it was set in a permanent scowl. The guy radiated ruthless hostility.

Dinara and I turned away from the man who had ordered the city scoured for us, and hurried out of the building.

My heart raced like a jackhammer as we walked away from the gigantic headstone, and the burning adrenalin didn’t subside until we were in the car and on our way to rendezvous with Master Gunnery Sergeant West.

CHAPTER 95

“ARE YOU GOING to be OK?” I asked Anna and Feo.

Anna shivered in the evening chill, and nodded.

“We have our cover story, if we need it,” Feo explained. “You took us hostage at gunpoint and forced us to drive you to SVR headquarters.”

“Mr. Morgan,” West said, “we have to go now.”

He stood beside the modified Land Rover, and eyed Veyernaya Street anxiously. There was no one else to be seen, and the surrounding industrial units stood idle.

“Take care,” I said, shaking Anna Bolshova’s hand. “And thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“Good luck, Mr. Morgan,” she replied.

I offered Feo my hand, but he pulled me in for a hug. “We’re family now. You let me know if you ever need anything else, American, OK?”

“Thank you, Feo. That means a lot,” I said when he released me.

Dinara said her farewells in Russian, and minutes later we were in the Land Rover, watching Moscow roll by as West headed for the embassy. When we were a few blocks from Bolshoy Devyatinsky Lane, Dinara and I returned to the secret compartment, and West smuggled us through the police checkpoint.

An hour later, having been debriefed by Erin Sebold, who was in awe of our audacious, simple plan, we were waiting impatiently in the secure meeting room on the third floor.

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