Chapter 50
Ivan Saravich sat at the end of the poorly lit bar. A tepid shot of bad vodka sat in front of him.
He looked at the man beside him, the head of the FSB unit he now commanded.
Commanded. The word was a figment of someone’s imagination. Not his.
These men of his were as much his guards as his subordinates. They answered to him, yes, but only in regard to the quest. Their real masters resided in Moscow, with Ropa and the FSB.
“Let me get you a glass,” Ivan said.
“I don’t drink,” the man said.
Ivan shrugged. “Perhaps you should. You look upset.”
“We should not have left Gregor,” he said.
“It could not be helped,” Ivan said.
“We should have continued the pursuit,” the man said insistently.
Ivan downed his shot and poured another one.
“Along the crowded beach, with your weapons held high?” he scoffed. “How long do you think before the Mexican police arrived? How long before a helicopter and waves of cars made it impossible to escape? What would happen to our quest then?”
The man backed off a bit, but he still seemed angry and there was a sense of arrogance that would not fade. Finally he spoke. “I wonder if you really want to find the boy.”
Ivan smiled to himself, disgusted.
The man stood up. “We leave in the morning. You should know, I will not let you act that way next time.”
The man walked away. He was half Ivan’s age, thirty pounds heavier, and strong. Ivan guessed there was little beyond disdain in his heart for the old warrior.
How things change. He had once been a hero of the Soviet Union, and since its disintegration he had become a successful capitalist. He marveled at the differences. For him communism had meant honor without wealth, and capitalism wealth without honor. And now he was a disgrace, his only hope for redemption to assassinate a child.
Not a satisfactory end to either part of his life. The capitalist in him saw no profit in it and the communist saw no honor.
He downed another shot of vodka to quell that thought. The vodka was beginning to grow on him.
The truth was, if he didn’t succeed or do as ordered, these men would kill him. And if he did succeed … they would probably kill him anyway.