CHAPTER 81

“UMBRELLA IS EN ROUTE, five miles out. He’ll be here in ten minutes. ”

Strain had kitted up with a low-vis mag carrier. His carbine was slung to his left side. Reece had both 9mm pistols courtesy of his new employer. They were on their own radios, which were not compatible with the ones used by the Secret Service. That meant that Reece stayed close to Agent Scheer so she could relay any relevant information from her feed. It was the best that they could muster on such short notice.

The former SEALs had placed themselves on opposing ends of the Tioschin pedestrian bridge, an elevated structure that gave them a good vantage point and reasonable mobility. Reece and Scheer were closest to the colonnade where the presidents would be speaking while Freddy was positioned on the west end. He had given Reece the sat phone since he was in a better position to coordinate assets and intelligence should that become necessary.

The streets had been closed, and the route had been cleared. A crowd of several hundred people, all having been frisked physically and electronically by uniformed Secret Service agents, filled the space in front of the colonnade. No backpacks, satchels, or briefcases were allowed inside the perimeter. A brass band was set up at stage left, facing the direction of the pedestrian bridge. Television cameras were ready to film the event with the agreement that the live feed would be sequestered until the respective leaders were on-site.

A team of Ukrainian police had searched the pier that had concerned the Americans and found nothing out of the ordinary. Reece peered into every probable hide site that he could find using his binoculars. The tough part was that this area had virtually no middle ground; the shooter was either very close or extremely distant.

I know you’re here. Where are you hiding?

“Umbrella is five minutes out. ”

“You see anything, Freddy? ”

“Negative, Reece, ” his friend responded over the radio.

• • •

The shipping container sat at the top of the large stack of identical boxes riding on the deck of the freighter, giving them a commanding view of the harbor. They had no communications devices in the container, so everything depended on the clock. Cell phones, satellite phones, and radios all gave off electronic signatures that could be detected remotely and would give away their location. If there was anything the Americans were good at, it was locating and targeting communications equipment, specifically cell phones. Lessons learned the hard way.

The ventilation system had been shut off twelve hours earlier to prevent heat signatures from escaping, and though the oxygen tanks that had been fitted inside allowed them to breathe through medical masks, the heavily insulated container had become incredibly hot, humid, and stagnant. Nizar closed his eyes and tried to remain calm. Finally, after what seemed like days, Tasho nodded to Nizar that it was time to open the doors. Both men donned dark sunglasses.

They each turned a crank that raised a metal panel inward, much the same way that residential windows functioned. A red cloth mesh that matched the outside paint of the container remained in place, allowing them to see out while limiting their exposure to all but the closest visual inspection. The air that rushed into the space felt like heaven but, even darkened by their sunglasses and the cloth screen, the light was blinding. The rifles were already positioned behind the openings, resting on their bipods and beanbag-like sandbags at the rear. Tasho and Nizar easily found the distinctive architecture of the colonnade in their scopes and made adjustments to their bodies and to the rifles until they found what was called a natural point of aim. Heat and moisture emanating from Nizar’s breath and sweat-soaked forehead quickly fogged the rear lens of his scope. He wiped it hastily to clear the image.

They had already dialed for elevation, the exact distance from their hide site to the target had been calculated and sent to them before they’d entered the container. They knew the precise width of the ship and its position against the pier. The wind was another story. It was blowing from the southwest, which made it almost full value. At this extreme distance, knowing the wind at the muzzle wasn’t enough, as it could change multiple times between rifle and target. Fortunately, coastal winds such as these were fairly consistent and there were few terrain features in their path to cause disturbances in the air.

Tasho studied the visual mirage, the movement of the water below, the sway of the tall trees near the target, and even the flags mounted atop the pier’s numerous cranes through his Swarovski spotting scope. As he studied each indicator, he began to build a picture of the wind call that would determine the success or failure of their mission.

• • •

“I’ve got something here, Andy. ”

It was Fabian, the computer expert who was supporting their frantic search for some shred of evidence that could assist the team on the ground in Odessa.

“What is it? ”

“I’ve been searching known associates of Andrenov and bumping them against every database that we have. Yuri Vatutin is Andrenov’s head of security and, like most of them, he’s a former FSB commando. One of the men under his command in Chechnya was Grigoriy Isaev. There’s a very similar name, Gregory Isay, on the Russian Federal Protective Service roster the Secret Service just emailed us. Isaev means ‘son of Isay’ in Russian. I think it might be the same person. The computer didn’t match the names because it wasn’t an exact match. We run into this problem constantly with Muslim names, so it’s something I think about. I’ve just never had to do it with Russians. ”

Danreb snatched the list from the analyst’s hands. “Get Strain on the phone! Now! ”

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