Gambit, David Hagberg [most life changing books .TXT] 📗

Nyunin took several more long moments before he nodded. “I know exactly who would be willing to carry out something like that—actually, I think they’d jump at it.”

“Are they capable?”

“They’re my men.”

“Will you do this for me?”

“Yes, I will, Nana,” Nyunin said. “But when it is over, I will resign my commission.”

FIFTY-SIX

The Spetsnaz base Promezhitsa was not far from borders with Estonia and Latvia but well away from the administrative center of the Oblast, like a state or county, at the city of Pskov. Well wooded in some spots with many rivers but swampy and mosquito ridden in the north, except during the brutal Russian winters, it was a much tougher training venue than that of the American SEAL Team 6, and the troops here were proud of the fact.

First thing in the morning, Colonel Nyunin had a runner fetch Senior Lieutenant Boris Vetrov to his office, who showed up within five minutes in regulation battle dress uniform, his blue airborne beret tucked neatly in the epaulet on his left shoulder.

Vetrov was a compact man in his late twenties, all angles, made of muscle, with a narrow face and deep eyes that never seemed to smile. He came to attention and saluted. “Vetrov, Boris A., reporting as ordered, sir.”

Nyunin, seated behind his desk, returned the salute and motioned for the senior lieutenant to take a chair.

“How would you like to be rich?”

“Like anyone, sir, but if I had my choice, I’d stay with the brigade.”

“This life comes to an end for everyone sooner or later.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have a proposition for you to consider, but I’ll need your answer this morning before you leave this office. The op would be strictly off the grid and carry with it not only a considerable money reward in euros but a considerable risk and some very unusual conditions.”

Vetrov obviously was at a loss, but he nodded.

“Have you ever heard the name Kirk McGarvey?”

“No, sir.”

“He briefly served as the director of the American Central Intelligence Agency, and he and his wife have since became freelance operators, once just a couple of years ago even going up against President Putin.”

Vetrov was impressed, but he held his silence.

“By tomorrow evening or the next at the latest, he and his wife will be at their home in a converted lighthouse in an isolated section of the Greek island of Serifos. I want you to pick a team of five operators, who will be flown to the island for a night HALO drop. On the ground, you will locate and eliminate both of them and then make your way off the island.”

“I have the perfect five, but I can see a number of issues—among them, our exfiltration after the op.”

“That will be the least of it,” Nyunin said, and the way he said it as well as the words themselves caught Vetrov’s complete attention, but again, the senior lieutenant said nothing.

“The conditions will be the toughest to bear in the entire operation, all of which will be classified most secret for the good of the state, and that comes directly from the general staff. No one outside of you and I and your team must ever hear a word of this op. The blowback could be devastating to the Rodina, the Motherland.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Not yet, but you will,” Nyunin said. “How soon can you have your team briefed?”

“Within the hour of leaving this office, sir.”

“You’ll probably need to take most of the day for prep and equipment change-outs, most of which can be issued from special infiltration supplies. You’ll be going in civilian clothes, with Ukrainian credentials, using German Heckler & Koch primary weapons, along with Glock subcompact pistols in the ten-millimeter caliber. Take the Chinese HALO chutes. Nothing must connect you with Russia if you’re captured.”

“Except for our language and unit tattoos, sir.”

“We’ll take care of that as well later this afternoon. As soon as you’ve briefed and outfitted your squad, I’ll want the six of you back here in my office.”

“I’ll have to come up to speed on the island and the McGarveys’ exact location, as well as whatever firepower they may have at their disposal, as well as some plan for getting out.”

“If you are a go, a civilian jet will touch down here this evening, load you and your equipment, and take off for refueling in Sofia. Aboard will be your briefing kit, including maps and exfiltration plans, along with a contact number for updates or unforeseen issues.”

“What about the aircrew?”

“You will kill them, dump most of the fuel, and set the autopilot for a route south, where the aircraft will crash into the sea.”

Vetrov sat back in the chair, his shoulders slumped, an odd, almost wistful expression on his face. “There’s no plan for getting us back, is there, sir?”

“No, but I’ve been assured that an untraceable bank account in the amount of thirty million euros will be set up, to be divided among anyone who survives.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but that still doesn’t answer the question of returning to base. Unless that will be included in the briefing package.”

“You won’t be coming back, not here or to anywhere in Russia, but you’ll be given medals of highest honors for service to the Motherland in secret.”

Vetrov was bitter. “A small amount for losing a home.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ll be retiring myself,” Nyunin said. “But you’re a highly trained, capable man. You and whoever is left of your team could set up as independent operators. There is a great deal of need for your talents. You would not get bored. And in between times, you wouldn’t be stuck living and training in a godforsaken shithole like this.”

Vetrov nodded and got heavily to his feet.

“As soon as you’re ready, come back here with your team,” Nyunin said, the worst of his briefing coming right now.

Vetrov saluted and headed to the door, but Nyunin stopped him.

“One last thing, Senior Lieutenant.”

“Sir?”

“There will only be one official record of