Part 5 (2/2)
The deputy director saluted back awkwardly and waved toward an empty chair. ”Miss Svarzkova, we are-”
The deputy director trailed off as she gave him an icy smile. ”You may call me Lieutenant.”
The deputy director cleared his throat. ”My apologies, Lieutenant. Please, have a seat.”
Lieutenant Svarzkova's smile brightened slightly. ”Thank you.” She ignored the chair the deputy director indicated and took the empty seat next to Bolan. The Executioner examined the twin rows of service ribbons on the left breast of her uniform. He recognized the orange-and-black ribbon of the Medal for Valor. They also told him she was rated as a marksman and a communications expert. Her English was excellent. The deputy director cleared his throat again.
”Lieutenant Svarzkova, we wish to thank you for your nation's cooperation during our operation in the former Yugoslavia. We appreciate your-”
Svarzkova cut him off. ”We have a mutual problem, and his name is Igor Baibakov. If he is not already in the United States, he will be very soon.”
The man from the State Department rolled his eyes. ”Excuse me, Lieutenant, but according to our information Igor Baibakov is dead.”
The lieutenant looked at the diplomat as if he were a small child. ”Your information is incorrect. Russian Military Intelligence has known that Igor Baibakov survived and has been selling his services as a mercenary in the former Yugoslavia for some time now.”
Bolan's eyebrows shot up. He had been around a number of Russian Intelligence agents in his time, and they were a notoriously close-mouthed bunch. Svarzkova was extraordinarily frank. She suddenly turned to Bolan. ”Igor Baibakov is alive, is he not?”
”He was the last time I saw him.”
Svarzkova nodded and opened her briefcase. She slid out a set of identical files and pa.s.sed them around the table. Her tone grew somewhat colder. ”I will be honest with you. It is no secret that the Russian republic supports the Serbian cause in the former Yugoslavia. We cooperate with your peace initiative there to maintain good relations with the United States. However, we now have a mutual problem.” She opened the file in front of her, and the men around the table did the same.
Bolan looked at the photo in front of him. Baibakov stood with the Kremlin behind him dressed in his Spetsnaz parade uniform. A sheet containing his statistics and service record had been translated into English. Svarzkova read them out loud anyway.
”Captain Igor Baibakov, seven feet, 325 pounds. Fluent in English and Spanish. Rated as expert in small arms, explosives, escape and evasion, airborne qualified. Born 1958 in the northern Ural Mountains. His father was a Cossack and a war hero. He became a hunting guide after World War II, specializing in tracking Russian boar and grizzly. His son learned the family trade early, and hunting remains Igor Baibakov's only real pa.s.sion. Due to his immense size and strength, Baibakov was groomed for the Soviet Olympic team in wrestling and power lifting. However, he had a number of disciplinary problems. These problems were severe enough to have him eliminated from the Soviet sports program. As punishment, he was enlisted in the army and immediately sent to fight in Afghanistan. Disciplinary problems continued. However, he was rated as an expert with small arms, and his ferocity awarded him the Medal of Valor. He was then noticed by a Spetsnaz commander, a Major Pietor Ramzina”I believe you are acquainted with that name.”
Heads nodded around the table. Major Pietor Ramzin had dug a smuggling corridor between the United States and Mexico big enough to drive trucks through. He was the first man in history to have built a covert, hostile military firebase manned by foreign soldiers in the continental United States. He had been convicted of murder, extortion, drug trafficking, possession and smuggling of illegal weapons, transport of illegal aliens into the United States and conspiracy. They had been forced to rewrite the possession-of-destructive-devices statute to convict him of attempting to detonate a nuclear-demolition charge on United States soil.
Ramzin was currently serving four consecutive life sentences in the Leavenworth Federal Maximum Security Prison. Mack Bolan had put him there.
Svarzkova continued. ”Under Ramzin's command, Baibakov excelled. He received numerous commendations for his combat ability, and achieved the rank of captain. His record was shadowed by accusations of atrocities committed against Afghan civilians. However, due to the expediencies of war and Baibakov's obvious talents, such allegations were not deeply scrutinized.”
The lieutenant's eyes narrowed. ”With the recent political changes in Russia, the armed forces were downsized. Ramzin's Spetsnaz unit was decommissioned. We are aware of their actions in the United States. That is history. The fact remains that Baibakov is alive, he is probably already in the United States and he will carry out the Red Falcons' agenda. Whether you wish to believe it or not.”
The room exploded into argument. Bolan looked at the Russian agent speculatively. ”Why does the Russian government care about what Baibakov does?”
The argument around the table died with Bolan's question, and the woman grimaced. ”Baibakov is an embarra.s.sment to our government. As a former Russian Special-Forces soldier, we cannot have him engaged in terrorist activities in the United States.”
Bolan raised an eyebrow. ”He's done it before.”
The woman's eyes narrowed. ”Yes. But we thought you had killed him.”
”You knew of his activities in Sarajevo and did nothing.”
The woman glared but said nothing. Bolan smiled coldly. ”Due to the expediencies of war, his activities were not deeply scrutinized.”
Svarzkova flushed red.
He continued. ”As long as he was training Serbian militia units and butchering Bosnian civilians, he served your political expediencies. Now that he has killed an American envoy and several United States Marines, he is an embarra.s.sment. Now he is here in the United States because you wouldn't take action.”
Svarzkova's knuckles whitened, but her voice remained calm. ”You are partially correct. Baibakov is here, along with elements of the Red Falcon Brigade. On this we must agree. On this we must take immediate action.” Lieutenant Valentina Svarzkova looked Bolan in the eye. ”Igor Baibakov must be found and killed.”
An hour later Hal Brognola sat across from the President of the United States.
”Hal, what do you think?” asked the Man.
Brognola sighed. He trusted Mack Bolan with his life, and while he had never trusted the Russians, in this situation he trusted their motives. ”If Striker says he ran into Baibakov in Sarajevo, I believe him. If he says Baibakov is on his way here on the Red Falcon agenda, I believe that, too. The State Department can complain about snipe hunts all they want. I believe the threat is real.”
The President frowned. ”What about this Russian woman?”
The big Fed shrugged. ”I think she corroborates what Striker has already told us. Baibakov is a major liability to the Russians. They want trade agreements, they want foreign aid and mutual cooperation internationally. Some seven-foot maniac who used to be an operator of theirs running a terrorist network in the United States won't be very helpful once Congress and the Senate find out. In this instance I believe them. They want Baibakov, and they want him terminated.”
The President nodded slowly. ”I agree.” The lines in his face set grimly. ”What do you suggest?”
”For starters, the usual. Get Baibakov's description to the FBI and run it through channels. He may be Superman but he's also seven feet tall. He'll be hard to hide.”
The President nodded. ”And?”
Brognola didn't like the idea of sending a friend of his after one of the worst killing machines to ever walk on two legs, but it had to be done. ”Send Striker after him. Baibakov will be using Russian mafiya connections to move and get materiel in the United States. He's dealt with them before. Lieutenant Svarzkova can go along as a liaison and an observer. I'm pretty sure she has some cards to play she hasn't shown yet.”
The President frowned. ”Can we trust her?”
”I believe the Russians want Baibakov dead. She might be useful. If someone is going to watch what she's up to, Striker is the man.”
”You think the two of them can hunt down this psychopath?”
”I think it's the best shot we have, and they have an angle no FBI agent has.”
The President c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. ”What's that?”
Brognola let out a slow breath. It was a worst-case scenario, and the only real shot they had. ”Striker is proposing to use the same tactic he used in Sarajevo. He and Baibakov have a history. Once Baibakov knows that Striker is on his trail, Baibakov will start hunting him.”
8.
Mack Bolan knocked on the hotel-room door.
”Who is it?” a woman asked.
Bolan considered his answer for a moment. He had fought against, and more recently acted in cooperation with Russian Military Intelligence. He couldn't be sure just what this agent knew. ”Me.” There was a short pause. ”Who is this, *me?'”
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