 
# Durell's Insurrection

By Rodney Mountain

***Smashwords Edition***

Copyright 2003 by Rodney Mountain

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Art Copyright 2004 Jennifer Mountain (Design) and Chris Barnes (Drawings)

## Other Titles by Rodney Mountain

Immortal Universe Novels

The Healy Murders

Durell's Insurrection

Undercover

The Killer Strikes

Anoki's Revenge

The Immortal Progression

Corporate Immortality

Not With A Whisper

The Mullinix: Ascension

The Mullinix: Redemption

The Mullinix: Resolution

Other Works

Night Strike (Short Story Anthology)

The Black Fossil

## Dedication

There are so many people to thank when it comes to doing a dedication. There is my wife, my best friends and anyone who has pushed me to keep on writing over the years. There are too many of you to list in a single dedication page, so I dedicate this book to all of you, each and every one.

## DISCLAIMER

The country of Finland is used in this piece of fiction due to it's proximity to the former Soviet Union. The Finland described here most likely bears little or no resemblance to its real life counterpart. I make no claim to know anything about that fine nation, nor do I think I know anyone from it. I have very little firsthand knowledge about the government itself or the stability thereof. I have used some information from almanacs, encyclopedias and other places to give it a slightly authentic ring, but this is a complete work of fiction.

In other words, don't take this too seriously. It's only a bloody book you know.

## Prologue

Two men walked together into the utility office laughing and joking together. The only thing distinguishing them from the two dozen other people lined up were the large guitar cases they carried with them. They walked to the end of the long line for cash utility payments and continued talking with each other about how their band was going to rock the night away during a frat party that night.

A couple minutes later a large man walked into the lobby. He was about six feet two inches tall with a large build and a full beard. Neatly trimmed black hair and the casual clothes made him look like a businessman on his day off. The only things that set him apart were his eyes. His gray eyes darted around the room quickly, dissecting everything and missing little. He entered the line while adjusting the strap of a large gym bag that he carried hanging from his shoulder.

The line moved slowly for a few minutes while a few of the poor people begged the clerks not to have their power turned off for lack of payment. A few of the men took notice as a petite blonde woman entered the building and walked up to the large man with the gym bag. They started talking a little bit, but the big man's attention was not completely on the girl. It was on the two cops who had just walked into the lobby.

The officers were obviously on their break, most likely there to pay a utility bill. The big man looked them over quickly and then looked back at the girl, who nodded knowingly back. He then looked at the rock and rollers quickly, who also responded with a slight nod that indicated more intelligence than their outward appearances did.

Suddenly, the big man moved quickly, pulling a pistol out of the gym bag and aiming it at the police officers. The surprised police officers reached for their weapons as well, but they were too late. The big man fired two shots and hit each of them in the chest. The police officers hit the ground, covered in a pool of red, before they could fire a single shot.

"Damn," he grumbled as he pulled out a larger submachine gun from the gym bag, "They weren't supposed to be here!"

The girl took another one out of the big man's bag while the two grunge types took assault rifles out of their instrument cases.

"Everybody on the floor!" the big man shouted as he fired a few shots into the ceiling.

It took barely two seconds for everyone to comply. The rock and rollers quickly went around and barricaded all of the doors except the front one, wiring them with what looked like an orange tinted version of C4.

The front door was guarded by one of them at all times. The guise of the ignorant rock and roller had left both of them. Now their eyes were as hard as the big man's was as they followed his instructions to the letter.

The woman kept an eye on the bill payers, now hostages, with her small assault rifle. If anybody moved at all she aimed the weapon directly at the person, showing them that she was serious. Nobody questioned her authority, the look on her face, pretty as that face may have been, was not one conducive to reason or open to question.

The big man looked around the lobby and checked out his work. He had the place buttoned down and at this point had complete control of the lower level of the building. Now the only thing left for him to do was to wait.

They did not have to wait long. The police showed up less than four minutes after the reports came in. The big man fired a few shots at the cops to warn them to keep their distance. There was no shouting, no malice. Just a few well-placed shots designed to show they were serious without wasting their limited supply of ammunition.

The police soon encircled the place and the negotiators and the SWAT set up shop. As soon as people realized that something had happened, they started to congregate behind the barricades that were thrown up quickly. Some of the people outside the building were screaming because they had relatives inside, but the police were calm and kept the crowd well away from the line of fire.

They were all professionals had dealt with this type of situation before. Once it was established that the situation was serious, the swat team took control of the entire perimeter. Cameras were placed to watch for any openings or signs of weakness. The phone lines were also cut and rewired so that the only person who could call in or receive calls from the building was the negotiator.

A hostage negotiator's job is to make the bad guys listen to reason. He or she has to try to become the criminal's best friend and get them to stand down. The negotiator actually has the hardest job of anyone on the hostage rescue team as they have to try to get an irrational person to begin acting rationally.

The first call was made two hours after the police officers hit the ground. The negotiator looked towards the building, wondering what he was in for as the phone rang. The big man picked up the phone on the tenth ring. He knew that it was time to state his demands.

The negotiator's job was made difficult as the big man cut him off at every opportunity. He did this to keep the negotiator from getting into a rhythm that could lull his defenses. The big man had been through this drill before and knew what he wanted. He wasted no time stating his demands.

He wanted the release of ten men that were currently being held in a prison upstate. He told them that if his demands were not met within eight hours a hostage would be executed every hour until they were met.

If anything happened to the prisoners, all the hostages would be killed. If the police attacked the building, the hostages and the building would explode. Before the negotiator could say another word, the big man placed the phone back on the cradle.

After the line was dropped the negotiator looked at the building again and then at the bosses around him. They expected him to be a miracle worker. He wondered how someone was supposed to be able to work miracles when the people you were supposed to be working miracles on would not talk to you.

The big man smiled as he realized the negotiator's dilemma. He knew that the bigger loop he could throw them out on, the better his chances of getting what he wanted were. While the big man stared at the phone, one of the rock and rollers patrolled the wired doors. The other one sat by the still open entrance, keeping his weapon ready in case of attack. The girl was tired, but she was still alert and watching her captives for any sign of resistance.

After a few hours everyone started getting hungry. The big man, answering the phone for the first time in hours, finally agreed to trade five female hostages for ten pizzas and soft drinks. The big man was unbelievably relaxed. He smiled and even joked around with the hostages a little. The hostages were not in the mood to be buddy-buddy with the man who was holding them against their will, but it helped to relieve the stress of the situation.

The transfer went without a hitch and the pizza was passed around between the hostages. The big man instructed his people to wait until the hostages sampled the pizza before eating themselves. The big man's good mood ended when two of the hostages lost consciousness. The cops had drugged the pizza.

The big man was incensed. He dragged two frightened people to the front door. He started screaming outside at the police officers, though he was careful to stay out of sniper range.

"You want to fuck with me?" he screamed, "Well this is what you get for fucking with me!"

He then pushed the two frightened people, a young man and woman, out the door. Before they could run to safety he fired several shots from his submachine gun into their backs, sending them tumbling down in pools of red. The police fired several shots at him, but he ducked back inside as the bullets shattered the glass door and smacked harmlessly into the wall.

The police were not happy with this new development. They had now lost several hostages to this group, which was a bad situation all around. The situation had escalated. In addition to the physical loss, the police were going to lose face if they did not act soon. The negotiator tried frantically to get the terrorists on the phone, but the big man refused to answer.

The big man figured it was time to let them think about it. He shut the ringer off on the phone and sat back in the chair. He realized that this mess was going to take longer than he had originally planned. He was prepared for it, but did not like it. The police had tried an amateurish trick and it backfired, costing them two hostages.

The big man leaned back and rubbed his temples, looking around at the group of scared hostages. The blonde looked over at him, but said nothing. The two rockers were both tired, but still doing their jobs flawlessly. They all took their bosses actions as a matter of course.

The deadline approached at around nine in the evening. The negotiators were frantically trying to contact the terrorists in the last minutes before their deadline ran out. The governor had a policy against caving in to terrorists, which is what this group was considered. The police were in a no win situation, and they knew it.

The big man turned the ringer on the phone on exactly three minutes before the deadline. He was greeted with the frantic ringing that he expected. He smiled and waited another few seconds and then lifted the handset up to his ear.

"Have you complied with my instructions?" he asked the negotiator.

"You've got to give us some more time..." the negotiator replied.

Without saying another word he placed the phone on the table and grabbed one of the frightened hostages. He roughly shoved her out into the area that had been exposed by the shooting earlier that evening. The girl pleaded with the big man not to shoot her, but her pleas were ignored. The big man lifted his pistol and, without betraying any emotion at all, shot the girl three times in the chest.

The big man walked casually over the phone and picked it up again. The negotiator tried to go into his story about how this sort of thing would not make things any easier on them but the big man cut him off again.

"You now have another hour," The big man told him, ice forming in his voice, "I suggest that you not waste it talking to me."

He then put the phone down on the cradle and sat down to wait for the next hour to pass by. The hostages were all scared, but the blonde with the gun did not give them any relief. Everyone was tense and knew that things were going badly on both sides. It did not take a rocket scientist to see it, either.

The police were desperate. They knew that they could not give up those prisoners and they could not let the terrorists kill another hostage. It was finally the time to plan the assault, and they had less than an hour to do it. The planning started in earnest at this point.

The big man knew that an assault was a very real possibility at this point. He had his people take caffeine pills to heighten their awareness state. The hostages, though now fewer in number than before, were all still huddling on the ground. The big man himself escorted hostages to the bathroom in pairs so that his people would not be distracted by the task.

The hour went slowly for everyone. The big man was mildly surprised that the authorities had not attacked the building. The reason they had not, however, was the chunk of explosive sitting prominently by the hostages. The hour was running out and the phone was not ringing. That alone was not a good sign.

The big man debated on whether to call himself. He knew they were not going to free the prisoners on the death of just three hostages. He prepared to grab another hostage to kill when the phone rang. The big man sighed and picked up the phone.

"Are they out?"

"We've got..."

"I don't care what you have," the big man said impatiently, "One word, asshole. Are they out?"

"I will..."

"I said one word," The big man snarled, "I will shoot one hostage for every nonessential word in the next sentence."

"No."

The big man sighed and looked at the receiver.

"Thank you," he said as he clicked it back onto the base.

He decided to take it easy on them and shoot one of the men this time. He motioned for the man to head towards the door. The man started to make a fuss, but the blonde girl clipped him up side of the head with her gun, knocking him onto the floor.

The big man picked him up and dragged him over to the door and tossed him out. He leveled his pistol to fire shots when suddenly his chest burst in a splatter of red. The big man fell down to the ground.

The girl saw the big man fall, but didn't hear a shot, causing her a moment of confusion. The two rock and rollers did not have time to react, as they were shot quickly by swat team members who crashed in through the windows. The blonde girl saw one of them fall and realized that they had been penetrated.

She screamed a few obscenities as the SWAT team quickly came into the building. In a split second they all fired together. She fired first, knowing the futility of shooting at the SWAT team, and emptied her assault rifle into the group of hostages as they hesitated on whether to shoot her. At a range of less than ten feet she hit at least two thirds of them before she hit the floor in a pool of red.

The SWAT team removed the now empty rifle from her hand and look around.

"All clear!" the team leader yelled.

After a few seconds the big man got up from the pool of red paint that resulted from the paint bullets striking him in the chest. He got up and walked around the room, seeing where everyone had fallen at the end of the scenario.

"Good job everyone," he said as he surveyed, "You almost cleared us out without any extra casualties."

"Nice sim, A.J.," the negotiator, Josh McClain, said as he walked into the room, "If I didn't know better I would have thought it was the real thing."

"Sorry I didn't give you much to do," The big man grinned, "But I wanted to see what would happen if you were confronted with someone who wouldn't negotiate."

"It seems we didn't do very well," McClain said as he motioned to the group of hostages covered with the dark red paint designating death by terrorist weapons.

"You did well right up to the very end," A.J. Durell said to McClain, "Only thing that screwed your people was the hesitation on shooting a woman. Teri emptied her rifle into them as they were deciding whether to shoot her or not."

"Do you hear that everyone?" McClain shouted to the swat team, "Next time remember, if the girl has a gun she goes down. Even if she is as pretty as Teri."

Teri Michaels, the blonde girl that had gotten the best of them, got up and smiled at McClain and Durell as she tried to wipe the paint off her face.

"You win some, you lose some," she said as she looked around, "I'd say everyone lost this round."

There are general murmurs of agreement around the room as A.J. and Josh looked around. It had been a learning experience for all of them, but a useful one. Well worth the quarter million dollars it had cost the police department to hire Durell and his team.

"Tim," A.J. said as he noticed the red on his man's head, "You ok?"

"Great," Tim Warren, one of the rock and rollers, grumbled, "It's going to take me a fucking month to get this out of my hair."

"Stop whining," Mike McGrath, the other rock and roller who was now taking off his wig, told his partner, "Just go back to short hair for a while. You look ridiculous with that mass of long hair anyway."

"He's right," Teri teased him, "Fire red hair looks better short anyway."

"Fuck all y'all," Tim growled as he brushed painted hair out of his eyes, "It's taken me a long time to grow this."

"And it'll only take a few seconds to lose it," Durell smiled as he clapped Tim on the shoulder."

"You four are a trip," McClain said, "Good actors too. We didn't even detect your entrance and we knew what we were looking for."

"The idea is to make a situation that is tougher than the average," A.J. told him, "Most hostage situations are nothing more than punks who fucked up a robbery. Those are usually fairly easy. I stress training for the harder situations, which makes the everyday look like a cakewalk."

"That way when you run into an everyday one it is a cakewalk," McClain nodded, "Good approach. It seems to work well."

"You can thank me by sending the check on time," A.J. smiled, "And sending me the tapes on your first situation after this."

"To check your training?" McClain wondered.

"Exactly," Durell nodded, "Lets me see what areas improve."

"Consider it a bonus," McClain said, "I'll send you the copies myself."

"Thanks," Durell told him and then went back to his team, "Where did we screw up this time?"

"Upper windows," Teri said, "We didn't secure them well enough."

"You showed yourself," Mike said, "Dumb move, boss. Got you killed quick when the time came."

"That's true," Durell admitted, "Teri?"

"Yes?" she asked, looking at her boss.

"Why'd you shoot the hostages instead of the cops?" Durell wondered.

"Because I had a shot at them," Teri smiled, "I was a goner when they took Mike and Timmy down. I figured that if I was going to go I'd make them pay for it."

"Good shooting, Teri," Mike grinned, "Real class act."

"Glad I don't have to pay the cleaning bills," Tim said as he looked around, "It's going to take a lot of cleaning on this mess."

"They signed a waiver," Durell shrugged, "They knew what they were in for."

"The new paint bullets worked wonders," Teri said, "Felt like the real thing."

"New charge packs," Tim explained, being the armorer of the group, "It gives a blowback which simulates the push that's needed to send out a lead bullet out, while giving the paint bullet a much less lethal trajectory."

"How is it that you can act so dumb on some things," Mike wondered, "While you can discuss weaponry to the minutest detail?"

"Timmy has a fixed amount of brain cells," Teri said as she went over and kissed his cheek, "Unfortunately most of them are used in weapons statistics."

"Gotta have a hobby," Timmy shrugged.

"I think we deserve a beer," Mike said, "How bout you, A.J.?"

"Absolutely," Durell said, a smile on his face as the four of them left the thoroughly destroyed building.

# Book I Durell goes to Finland

## Chapter 1

A.J. Durell relaxed in his easy chair with a beer in one hand and the remote control in the other hand. Another sim was done so he could finally just sit back and enjoy his movies. He always did this at the end of a sim, simply take a week off to sit back and do nothing.

It was a needed relaxation for him, as his simulations were meticulously planned, usually taking a minimum of two weeks of intensive work before the actual thing took place. It was exhausting, and often times he had to face the fact that he was not in his 20's anymore.

A.J. Durell was never a paragon of physical fitness. He had to make allowances for the fact that his blown left knee and increasing waistline were increasingly slowing him down. The pack of cigarettes he smoked every day didn't help much either. He grumbled at the thought and took a swig of his beer as he realized the movie he was watching truly sucked. Moving back to his computer in a laboring motion he hit random on his multi-disc CD player.

He smiled and fired up a cigarette as the beginning strains of Vienna Calling floated out of the CD player. A true child of the 80's, A.J. Durell was. He leaned back in his easy chair and flipped the on switch to his computer. He figured that he could play a few rounds of Risk against the amateurs on the internet before he went to bed.

## Chapter 2

Ambassador Matti Roto from Finland cornered Martin Brown at one of the many political shindigs that go on after hours in that city. As anyone familiar with how D.C. really works could tell you, the real deals are made at the cocktail parties between minor bureaucrats from all levels of government. International goodwill is made or broken at them as well.

Finland's economy had been falling apart since the breakup of the Soviet Union in 1991. Bad economies mean political unrest and instability in the populace. In a country used to seeing murder as something done by foreigners in distant lands, they were seeing an increase in violent crime. They were seriously unprepared for an increase of this nature.

"Martin," Roto said in his accented English, "It's getting worse and worse back home now. We are getting these attacks monthly, mainly because our police don't have the training to handle them."

"Sounds like you need to train your people better," Brown said dryly.

He knew where this was heading. He had read the reports on Finland, and figured this was a hit-up for either training or aid money. Knowing the transparent bastard that Matti Roto was, he figured that either was a possibility. Brown was not in the mood to give much, since with the fall of the Soviet Union there was little need for additional goodwill with the small Scandinavian country.

"It would help if we actually had people who knew how to do it," Roto replied, "We can throw all the money we want at it domestically, but the fact is that we need training that no one in Finland, not even our army, has ever had."

Brown looked over to John Castor, CIA's deputy director of operations, who was standing nearby, listening to the conversation. He knew what Roto wanted as well as Brown did. Roto wanted U.S. aid and training to deal with their domestic terrorism, aid that just was not in the cards in the current US political climate.

Castor walked over to save Brown, who was not senior enough to make these decisions anyway. John Castor had dealt with Roto before, mainly while Roto was going up through the Finnish diplomatic ranks in the years before the Soviet Bloc collapsed. It always paid to have friends on the border of your largest enemy, so the CIA had long fostered friendly contacts with the Finns.

"Matti, it's been a long while," Castor said to divert the conversation a little, "So you're the full ambassador now? Can't say it could have happened to a nicer man."

"I thank you for that, John," Roto said nervously, "It's been a long time coming."

Matti Roto had had too many dealings with the CIA in the past to be comfortable around Castor. If Castor revealed to anyone the fact that he had been one of the best CIA sources in Finland for years, Roto's career would be over and he would spend the rest of his life in a Finnish prison. Castor knew this as well, but was smart enough to know that Roto was not the enemy.

"You were telling me about your problems with terrorism?" Brown inquired, not quite sure what hold Castor had over the Scandinavian diplomat, but grateful that he was again on the side with the upper hand.

Roto took a second to compose himself, but continued like the seasoned diplomat he was.

"Yes, we need some serious training," Roto continued, "I was wondering if you would know where we could get some for our forces?"

Castor smiled. He knew he did the NSA man a favor by forcing Roto not to ask for what he needed. A favor that would probably be repaid somewhere along the line. Now it was time to give Roto an alternative that he could take back to his bosses without looking bad.

"You know," Castor said to Roto and Brown, "I know someone who is very good with terrorist simulations, a freelancer who often works with local SWAT teams and occasionally with the federal boys. If you could make a deal with him, I'm sure the proper federal paperwork could be expedited."

Roto looked hopeful for the first time in the conversation, while Brown looked impressed. Brown had been in D.C. long enough to know a master when he saw one. When it came to politics, John Castor was one of the best. Firmly entrenched in an upper-middle tier position, he was one of those with more skill than his bosses had and more permanence because he was not subject to the immediate whims of the elected leaders. Politicos come and go, but men like John Castor stay in Washington for eternity.

"Where can I find this man?" Roto asked hopefully, "Does he work for your government?"

Roto knew Castor has given him an out and figured it was worth following.

"Nope, totally solo," Castor told him, "His name is A.J. Durell. He did some revolutionary stuff in the com bloc during the cold war, ran security for his father's company for a while, and has been doing this for about two years now. Very good, he knows how a hostage situation goes down and will set up the most realistic simulations you will ever see."

"I remember reading about him," Brown added in recollection, "Expensive as hell, but they don't come any better. I don't know if he will agree to go that close to Russia though. They still want his head on a stick for what he did in Czechoslovakia in the 80's. I heard that he was personally responsible for the deaths of at least a dozen KGB agents over a three year period."

"At least he's put his experience to good use," Castor said, "He could be the answer to your training problems. But be warned, it will cost you a good deal of money. Probably upwards of a half million dollars. Maybe more considering what you need and where you need it."

"Small change for training like this," Brown said thoughtfully, "I have the contact information for Durell at the office. If you call my secretary Monday I'll have an introduction and his number ready for you."

"I'd appreciate that, Martin," Roto said with a smile, as his ass had been saved and he knew it, "I will do that tomorrow afternoon."

"Sounds like we have a winner," Castor said with a smile. He loved this part of his job.

"I'll have it ready first thing in the morning," Brown told them.

## Chapter 3

A.J. Durell woke up at around noontime Monday morning. He had always been a night owl, and had stayed up until about three in the morning the previous night playing Risk over the Internet against three other people. He won as he usually did in that game, but it was a good match.

He rolled over and blinked a bleary eye up at the clock. When he saw the glowing blue 12:01 PM he growled a little. He managed to get himself up into a sitting position and look out the back window of the apartment he had occupied since returning to the US several years before. He looked at the kids playing out back in his usual early morning daze.

After a few more minutes the phone started ringing. Durell reached over and picked up the handset and put it to his ear. It was an instinctive move for him, as he was still not quite awake enough to know what he wanted to do.

"Durell here," he said gruffly as he sat up to look for his pack of cigarettes.

"A.J.," Teri's voice came though the phone, "Don't tell me you are still in bed you lazy bastard?"

Durell grinned as he fired up one of his cancer sticks.

"I'm up," he grunted, "Just barely but I'm up. What's up, kiddo?"

"I just checked the office machine," Teri said over the phone, "There are the usual bullshit calls, but one that I thought you might be interested in following up."

Durell frowned slightly, as she knew he did not take jobs this close together.

"I know it's too soon, but this is unusual," Teri said, reading his thoughts, "Thought you might want to check it out. Anyway, you need to get your ass out of bed and your brain working on something more complex than a stupid video game."

"Risk isn't stupid," A.J. said while stifling a laugh, "It helps me keep my analytical mind intact in between dealing with the likes of you, Mike and Timmy."

She laughed and retorted with something unprintable. Durell took a big drag on his cigarette and got up. He then hunted for something clean to wear. Housekeeping was not one of Durell's strong suits. His apartment resembled something between garbage dump and construction site. The only reason you could walk anywhere was the cleaning woman who took out the garbage.

"So are you going to tell me what it is or not, Teri?" Durell asked as he slid on a pair of jeans that did not look too dirty.

"Guy name of Brown from the NSA," she said, "You know him?"

"Yeah, I think I ran into him at one of the post sim debriefings we did for one of the sims we set up for the feds last year. What the hell does the NSA want with us?"

"Setting us up for a call from the Finns," she told him, "The Finns are having a nasty problem with terrorism and need training that they don't have domestically. I guess the government is trying to generate a little goodwill without having to do anything themselves."

"So Brown points them in our direction, huh?" Durell said with a smile, "Well I'll think about it. Have you gotten a direct contact from them yet?"

"Not yet, but Brown's message said that the ambassador was supposed to call his office today for the contact information."

"That's fine," Durell said as he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, "We'll deal with it when the official request comes through. Meanwhile, what are you up to today?"

"The three of us are going to do a paintball tourney over at the rec center. The kids love it, and it's fun for all of us. We could use another hand if you want to do it, A.J."

Durell sighed. He wanted to go, but had another doctor's appointment today. His knees were getting worse, to the point that walking was painful. The doctors would have kicked his ass for even thinking about a paintball game now. The arthritis caused by previous injuries was growing more and more debilitating for him by the year.

"I can't, Teri," he told her, "I've got to have my knees looked at again."

"Getting any worse?" she asked him with a note of concern in her voice.

"I'm already limping most of the time now," Durell reminded her, "Probably going to have to have it replaced by the time I'm 40, maybe sooner if It keeps getting worse. We're going to see if there's a way to keep my knees going for a while, though."

"Damn man," she said with a sigh, "What are you going to do at that point?"

"Retire and play risk for the rest of my life," Durell said with a smile.

"Yeah right," Teri laughed, "You'd get bored in a month, A.J. Anyway, keep an eye on the machine. No need to make potential customers angry by not calling them. I'll call you later tonight."

"Ok Teri, have fun out there," Durell replied as he hung up the phone.

He sighed as he fired up another cigarette. He looked around and finally put his shoes and socks on. Typical morning, he thought as he walked out into the kitchen. He frowned at the pop tarts, which were the only things that could be remotely considered edible in the kitchen, and went into the living room.

Durell dragged heavily on his cigarette and looked at the large shelf of books in his living room. He went over and picked up his old high school yearbook for the first time in years. High school was never a particularly pleasant time for him. He did not make friends easily and was usually smarter than his teachers were.

The talk of Finland made him remember a foreign exchange student he was very good friends with during his senior year. Katarina something or other, he remembered fondly. He never could pronounce her last name. She was a couple years younger than he was, but one of the best friends he had ever had in that miserable high school.

A.J. smiled as he flipped the old pages and found her picture. Not what you would expect from a Scandinavian, she had jet-black hair and a very infectious smile. He had thought a lot about her over the years, wishing he had had the guts to ask her out on a date. He smiled and thought about the possibility of a job there.

"Nothing to lose by trying," he said to himself softly.

He then glanced at the clock and cursed. He had only twenty minutes to get to his doctor's appointment on the other side of town. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he walked quickly to his car, speeding across town in hopes of making his appointment on time.

## Chapter 4

Two men met in a small restaurant in Helsinki, Finland looking around to see if there was anybody noticing them. They chose an isolated booth in a corner and started talking in low tones to prevent eavesdropping.

The younger one of the two, a young man with blonde hair, looked towards the older one in anticipation. He did not like having to be seen in public with this older man, but he knew it was a necessity. The older man, short and dark, with graying hair and a badly pitted face, was not nervous in the slightest. He was obviously an old pro at this sort of thing.

"What is so important that we have to meet now?" the younger man asked in poorly accented Russian, "Couldn't you have just sent a message?"

"This is too sensitive for the normal couriers," the older man said in flawless Russian, "And I wanted to see you personally so that you can't say that a messenger fucked it up."

The young man looked agitated, but said nothing and waited for the Russian to continue.

"The time is coming close for our friends to knock your corrupt government out of place," the Russian told him, "But you're people are going to have to work faster. I'm told that Matti Roto, the ambassador to America, has been told to find some way to get training for the police to deal with attacks like the ones your people have been doing. You've got to move up the timetable."

"Damn! You've got to be kidding me, Timonchenko!" the young Finn hissed at the Russian, "This is dangerous enough with our police being incompetent. Now you're telling me that we are supposed to do it faster with the police becoming better?"

"My people are very close," Timonchenko told the young Finn, "It'll take them months to get a training program off the ground and another six months after that for it to become effective. By that time my people will be in control and your people will be heroes instead of outlaws."

"Don't fuck with me, Timonchenko," The young man said angrily, "There is no way you'll be able to take this country by force."

The Russian said nothing but pulled a pistol out of his jacket and jammed it between the legs of the young man. He looked hard into the fearful eyes and let the realization sink in. The young man was in way over his head and to back out now would be a grave error.

"Don't screw this up," the Russian said gravely, "You are going to be a part of the glorious future of Finland. You are even going to be helping me bring the revolution back to Mother Russia. But it all starts here. It all starts now. And if you screw up, I will find you. Remember that."

With that, Timonchenko slid the gun back into his pocket and stood up. He left the frightened young man sitting in the booth and headed out into the midday traffic in Helsinki. The young man took a minute to compose himself and quickly left the restaurant, tossing down a few markkas on the table to cover the check.

## Chapter 5

Durell hobbled back into his apartment at around three in the afternoon. The doctor, as usual, told him to take it easy on the bad knee and that there was nothing that could be done short of major replacement surgery. Durell, as usual, told them that he would wait until the knee was useless before he put himself through that.

He went into the house and called the voice mailbox that made up the office phone number of Durell Simulations Inc. There were six messages, two of which were discarded immediately as they were from reporters who wanted to interview him about his line of work.

Durell despised reporters for the most part and had long ago issued instructions to Teri, Mike and Timmy that they were not to talk to any form of the press on anything relating to their job. It was one of his few hard and fast rules. One that had never been broken.

The third message was from a previous customer, a SWAT team unit out in San Francisco thanking them for the effort and asking for another copy of the report. Durell made a note to have Teri run one off and send it off to them, charging a fee as punishment for their incompetence.

The fourth and fifth messages were new messages from the same two reporters, which were deleted quickly. He then went on to the sixth message, which was the one that Teri had warned him about. It was from Matti Roto, the Finnish ambassador. Long winded as most politicians were, Roto managed the message concisely. Impressive, considering his accent.

"Mr. Durell," Roto's accented voice stated, "I was given this number by Martin Brown over at the N.S.A. I represent the Finnish government and was told that you might be able to help train our police forces to deal with the increasing terrorist threat. I realize that you are expensive, but I think we can come to a mutually satisfactory deal. The NSA will expedite all the necessary paperwork and I've been assured there will be no problems. Please call me directly at 202-555-8736. If I'm not there, they will be able to get in contact with me."

Durell sat back in his chair and smiled. Roto was moving fast, so he figured that they needed some serious help. Since the NSA was willing to relax the rules that usually kept his team working in the U.S. and Canada, he realized that there must be some serious goodwill at stake. His one concern was working that close to the Russians again, but he brushed it aside for now.

"Ok, this could be fun," he said to himself and looked for his world almanac.

He grabbed his pack of Marlboro Ultra Lights and fired yet another one up as he found the book lying under a computer manual. He picked it up and quickly read the entry on Finland so he would have a bit of knowledge about it before talking to Roto. After finishing that, he picked up the phone and quickly tapped out the number that Roto left on the voice mail.

"Finnish embassy, Ambassador Roto's office," a slightly accented feminine voice said, "May I ask who is calling?"

"A.J. Durell, returning the ambassador's call," he told the secretary.

Roto came onto the line quickly, having been forewarned by Brown that screwing around with Durell was a bad idea. Durell was notorious for having little patience with bureaucracy or extended protocol. He did not have to work most of the time, and he chose his jobs with care.

"Thank you for returning my call so quickly," he said carefully in his accented English, "We need to get something, how you say, rolling... as soon as possible."

"What exactly do you need?" Durell asked, cutting to the point.

Roto sighed, not knowing exactly what to tell him.

"We need training," he finally said.

"In other words, you are dealing with a threat that you have never had to face before and you have no one with the necessary skills to show your police and military how to do it right?" Durell concluded, knowing that if he left it to Roto to state the problem he would be on the phone all afternoon.

"That sounds about right, Mr. Durell," Roto replied, trying to mask his surprise over how fast Durell has taken control of the conversation.

"You realize that this is going to be an expensive task?" Durell asked him, "It's probably going to cost your government several million dollars, in addition to what you are going to have to pay me."

"We have most of the equipment already..."

"You have thousands of specially engineered paint bullets?" Durell asked him, knowing better, "You have all the firing ranges and the places to perform simulations? There are many special items that you need for this sort of training. It's not something you can just start overnight, especially if you don't have the infrastructure already."

"I'm sure we can find what you need when you start," Roto said, "We aren't a poor nation. We simply need a guide in modern antiterrorism. Would you care to come to Washington to discuss how exactly we could go about this? All expenses paid by us, of course."

Durell was not sure he liked the sound of the job, but he was intrigued by the possibility. He decided that it would be worth the trip to Washington just to hear him out. Desperate people were fun, especially politicos that were too used to having their own way.

"Have a ticket waiting for me from RDU to Dulles, first one available after 2pm tomorrow," Durell told Roto, "Sound good to you?"

"I think we can handle that," Roto said slowly, "I'll have a car waiting for you at the airport. Will you be coming alone?"

"I will be," Durell said curtly, "The rest of my team is on vacation."

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Durell," Roto said and clicked off the line.

Durell stubbed out the cigarette and looked out the window. He still did not know what to think of Roto, but he was interested nonetheless. It was part of the wanderlust he had had since running away to Europe for the first time in the early 1980's. He sighed and pushed the thoughts out of his head, it was a beautiful day outside, so he decided to head out to the rec center to see if Teri's paintball game was still going on.

He drove to the recreation center and saw that Teri's 92 Chevette was still there. He fired up another smoke and coughed a little. He made a face at the cigarette as he usually did, but parked the car and kept on puffing. He got out and walked to the back lot, favoring the knee that was getting worse by the month.

He walked into the wooded area carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. He looked around for the signs of people, trying not to interrupt the game. Suddenly, someone jumped out of the bushes and quickly shot two paint bullets at Durell. Durell was caught unarmed and unprepared, so he could only just stand there and take the shots.

The teenager in blue looked up and his grin of triumph slowly dissolved as he realized that Durell wasn't a member of the opposite team. Durell looked down at his now orange chest and grinned at the kid.

"Don't worry kid, it's an old shirt anyway," Durell told the chagrined teen, "Remember to look before you shoot. Nothing wrong with your aim, kid. Just need to work on your target identification."

"Thanks," the red-faced kid said.

"Anyway," Durell asked the kid, "Have you seen Teri Michaels anywhere?"

"She's up at the red team command post, most likely," the kid told him with a smile after he realized that Durell wasn't mad, "Up on the top of the hill to your left. Sorry about the shirt."

Durell smiled and waved it off as he headed up towards the hill. It took him a few minutes to make it up the hill and a few minutes more to find the command post. Teri was looking over some papers as he approached. Suddenly, she looked up and started laughing as she saw Durell.

"Good shot," she said with a smile, "Who got you?"

"Some kid on the blue team. Didn't get his name," A.J. replied, "Good aim, but he needs to work on target identification. Having a good match today?"

"Not bad," she told him, "So what brings you up here this afternoon. Problems with the knee?"

"Knee is as good as it's going to get," Durell told her, "I got the call from the Finnish Ambassador. Talked to him on the phone about an hour ago."

"We going to work tomorrow?" she asked him.

"Not quite so soon," Durell said, "I'm flying up to DC tomorrow to meet with him. I'll decide after I find out exactly what they want whether we'll take it or not."

"Cool," Teri said, "So we've got at least the rest of the week, huh?"

"At least," Durell said, "It's going to take a month or so to get set up as well. Working in Finland won't be like working in Australia was. I'm going to have to hire some people to do language translation, and I'm considering seeing if the NSA can get me into the Swedish Immersion program so I can learn enough Swedish to communicate. This is all providing that I take the job at all."

"Don't they speak Finnish over there?" Teri asked.

"Both Finnish and Swedish," Durell told her, "If they have an immersion program for that, I'll take it. Either will do at this point. Anyway, it'll be a while before we start."

"This isn't going to be a normal sim?" she asked him, "Hit and get?"

"They need full training," he told her, "As far as I can tell they have no clue as to what they are doing."

"Why us?" Teri asked in puzzlement, "Why not the feds?"

"My guess is that the feds are trying to get some goodwill with the Finns, but are trying to do it without having to take resources out of their own pockets," Durell explained to her, unknowingly hitting the nail right on the head.

"Lovely," Teri said dryly, "If it looks like more than we can handle, A.J., don't take the job, Ok?"

"You bet," A.J. replied with a smile, "I'm going to do some quick research on Finland tonight. I don't want to go to that meeting with Roto cold. If I have the upper hand, that means I can negotiate a higher price for this."

"Thinking about fleecing them, A.J.?" Teri said with a look of concern.

"Nope, just want to make my fair share out of this," he said with a grin, "We're capitalists, remember? Just want to make sure we profit appropriately."

"Good," Teri chuckled and went back to her paperwork, leaving Durell to hobble back to his car and prepare for the trip.

## Chapter 6

Durell exited the plane into the terminal at Dulles, stretching his body that had been crammed even in the first class seat Roto had provided. He looked around and finally saw a man wearing a chauffeur's uniform holding one of those stupid cards with his name on it. He chuckled to himself and went over to the man.

"I'm A.J. Durell," he said to the chauffeur, "I'm assuming the Embassy sent you?"

"Yes sir," the young man said happily, obviously schmoozing for a large tip, "Your luggage sir?"

"I'm carrying it," Durell said, referring to the large duffel bag he was carrying. He always was good at traveling light.

"Very well sir," the young man said and led Durell out to the limo.

Durell looked around the airport in distaste, just as he usually did when surrounded by what he called "black ants." Having consciously avoided wearing a suit of any sort since he was fifteen years of age, he had a hard time believing that people would willingly dress up in those monkey suits for any reason.

He grinned to himself as he lit up a cigarette on exiting the airport terminal. The eager young limo driver opened the door for Durell and he climbed into the limo, surprised that the Finns had taken the time to send one. He shook his head and lowered the partition to the front.

"Take me over to the NSA building," Durell instructed the driver, "I need to check something out before I go over to the embassy."

"Yes sir," the young man said as he pulled the vehicle out of the airport.

D.C. traffic had not changed a bit, Durell noticed as they slowly made their way towards the capital. It took them the better part of an hour to get to the NSA building. Durell told the kid to circle the area and be back in a half-hour. The kid gave Durell a card with the cell phone number and said to call when ready.

Durell walked into the building and asked directions to Martin Brown's office. He figured that Brown would be the proper person to ask about the situation, seeing as he was the one that Roto had used as a reference. The receptionist merely asked if he had an appointment.

"Tell Brown it's A.J. Durell," he said testily, "He'll see me."

The receptionist called Brown's office and got the OK to send Durell on in. Durell nodded a gruff thanks to the woman and went up the stairs. Finding Brown's office was easy and he went up to Brown's secretary, who waved him on in. Durell was mildly surprised, as this rarely happened for anyone in this town. He recognized Brown from the other time that they had met, and was greeted with a smile.

"Welcome to D.C., Mr. Durell," Brown said as he offered a hand, "Now what can I do for you today?"

"Just wanted to ask a couple questions," Durell replied, "The main one being how the hell did my name come up for the Finland thing?"

"Castor from CIA suggested it at a cocktail party this weekend," Brown said with a chuckle, "Roto had cornered me and tried to get us to give them the training, but as you know, stuff like that isn't in our budget at present."

"Castor, huh?" Durell said slowly.

Durell remembered John Castor. He was the one who gave covert assistance to his cell in Czechoslovakia back in the mid 80's. A slippery son of a bitch if he'd ever seen one, but an effective man. Something like this probably appealed to Castor's sensibilities, making the Finns pay an outsider instead of the US having to pay for it all.

"You know him, huh?" Brown asked, seeing the look of recognition.

"Too well," Durell said with a grimace, "I dealt with him in Europe, about a decade ago. Not something I personally care to relive. Anyway, how safe do you think the Finland job will be and will I be getting any official support at all?"

"We're going to clear your team for visas and all permits," He said, "What else do you need."

"Does the NSA or CIA have an immersion program for either Finnish or Swedish?" Durell asked.

"We have one for both," Brown stated, "I believe the agency has one for Swedish."

"If I take the job from Roto," Durell wondered, "Think you can get me into the Finnish one before hand?"

"I think that could probably be arranged," Brown acknowledged, figuring it was the least he could do.

"All I wanted to know," Durell said, "I'll get back in touch with you after I meet with Roto."

"I'll be here until seven," Brown nodded.

They shook hands and Durell walked out the door. He then left the building, stopping only to borrow a phone and have the driver return to the building. He went out and only had to wait a minute for the young driver to return. He climbed back into the limo and lit another cigarette.

"Ok," Durell ordered the driver, "Let's go to the Finnish Embassy now."

Replying only with a nod, the driver maneuvered the car down through the hectic traffic and managed to get to the embassy a few minutes before six in the evening. In DC traffic, that was a sure sign of a master driver, as the limo was large vehicle and the traffic bumper to bumper.

Durell signed the paper for the driver and wrote in a decent tip for him. What the hell, he thought, as he was not paying the tab. He headed into the embassy and smiled as a very blonde young receptionist smiled in his direction. He walked over to her and looked her form over carefully, liking what he saw.

"I'm here to meet Ambassador Roto," he told the lovely young lady, "My name is A.J. Durell. Could you tell him that I'm here, please?"

"Please wait a minute, sir," She said in a thick Finnish accent, then quickly made a telephone call, "We've been expecting you. Ambassador Roto is in the dining room and would like you to join him."

"I'd be honored," Durell said with a smile, "Where am I going?"

"Ambassador Roto usually eats dinner in the employee cafeteria," the smiling woman informed Durell as she led him downstairs, "Helps him keep tabs on everyone."

"Very astute of him," Durell muttered as he looked at the place.

As far as embassies go, the Finns had not gone too far overboard. It was a clean and presentable building, but not excessively ornate. In fact, it reminded him of every other government building that he had ever been in, only slightly cleaner in the upper floors.

Not particularly concerned about whether smoking was permitted in the building or not, Durell pulled out a cancer stick and fired it up, taking a long drag on it as they entered the dining room. He was out to make an impression and did not particularly care if it was a good one or not. He was not going to kowtow to anyone.

"Ambassador Roto is at the big table in the corner, Mr. Durell," The woman said as she pointed to him.

Matti Roto was playing his usual game of big shot mingling with the lower classes. It is a sight seen all over the world. High-ranking diplomats from third-rate nations acting like kings holding court. Roto probably would not have been out of place in the royal courts of the Middle Ages, though he would never have been at the head of the table then.

To Durell, however, Roto looked rather idiotic sitting in the middle of a fawning group of sycophants. He grinned to himself slightly, as he realized he was the only one in the room wearing casual clothes or smoking. He shrugged to himself and took another drag of his cigarette. It took a minute before Roto acknowledged Durell's presence.

"Mr. Durell, I presume," Roto said at last, "Please, have a seat. Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"Not yet," Durell said with a smile as phony as a six-dollar bill, "But, I think I could be persuaded to eat something."

"Excellent!" Roto exclaims, "The chef has prepared a nice lamb for us tonight. Please enjoy your dinner, Mr. Durell."

The food was passed around and Durell surprised most everyone in the room by eating like a perfect gentleman. You could not grow up with the mother that he had and not learn some table etiquette. Durell ate the lamb, but was longing for a hamburger. He'd had enough of high-class food as a kid to last him a lifetime, and frankly didn't miss it a bit.

The meal went smoothly, and a lot of small talk went around. Durell held his own, but was frankly bored by the whole thing. He would much rather have talked his business over with Roto and been done with it, but he knew the game. Roto was trying to dazzle his guest and play up the glamour of his job to try to get the upper hand. Durell was not buying it, however. He knew that Matti Roto was just a small fry trying to fulfill the orders sent down from the people back home that really mattered.

After a while Durell began to wonder whether this display happened every night or whether it was planned for his appearance. Whichever way it was planned, it was not having the effect that Roto had wanted. Durell decided after an hour that he was going to tack an extra hundred grand onto the price tag just for making him sit thought this bullshit.

Finally, Roto ended the torture and asked Durell and one of his aides to retire upstairs to Roto's personal study. Durell readily agreed, anything to get out of the pseudo-party, and they all went upstairs. The study was much more tastefully done than the rest of the embassy, probably because it was a working area.

Roto waved Durell to a comfortable chair and took a large stuffed one for himself. Durell sat down and lit another cigarette. The aide didn't look happy, but with a nod from Roto handed Durell an ashtray. Durell smoked for a minute, taking in the scene and taking a better look at Roto.

"Tell me what you have in mind, Ambassador," Durell finally said, "I'm not much for diplomatic niceties."

"We've got a great problem with terrorism in Finland today..." Roto started like the political animal he was.

"If you're going to sit here and wax political," Durell said, cutting him off at the pass, "You can find someone else to listen to it. I know it's hard for you political people, but just tell me the problem straight out and maybe I can help."

Roto stopped abruptly and realized that he was not handling this very well. Durell was not the type of man he usually dealt with. Roto sighed and took a few minutes to collect his thoughts. Durell's gray eyes bored into him as he thought, not helping Roto's courage any. He then put his request as simply as he could, which is not saying much for the average politician.

"Our police forces need training on how to handle a terrorist attack," Roto told him, "They need to know how to handle it, and how to plan a counterassault. I'm told that you are very good at setting up training simulations for American police forces. I was hoping that you could teach some of our people how to do the same thing and that they could teach others."

Durell sat there and thought about this for a minute. He was slightly impressed that Roto was able to break it down as much as he did. He looked at the floor and then looked around the room one more time.

"How much are you looking to spend on this training, Roto?" Durell asked him, "I warn you it isn't going to be cheap."

"Name your price," Roto said, "I'll tell you if we can afford it or not."

Durell decided to aim high, and let Roto talk him down. Roto wasn't quite as stupid as he thought, but he wasn't a brainchild either. Durell took a moment to reflect on it and then state his case.

"What you're asking is going to be an intensive operation," Durell told Roto as if lecturing a schoolboy, "I'm going to have to take the NSA's immersion course in Finnish so I can communicate at all. I'm also going to have to hire people on that end to translate the rest of my team."

"I can provide..." Roto starts.

"No you can't," Durell said firmly, "I choose my own people. That's not negotiable."

"Name your price," Roto said as firmly as he could manage.

Durell thought about this for a moment. He knew this was going to be a major operation, one that he knew he could do but one that was going to take more effort than he had put into anything in several years.

It was not what Teri had worried about. Just a variant on the type of training he had spent years doing with rebels in the Soviet Block. He decided to highball the numbers to see if he could get out of it.

"Five million dollars," Durell said with a neutral expression.

Roto sat back in his chair, trying not to look surprised at the figure that had been quoted. Durell sat back and smoked his cigarette as he gave Roto time to digest it. He half expected Roto to laugh in his face, but did not let that out. Roto merely looked at the man seated across the table from him

"And this includes?" Roto asked softly.

"My team and my expertise," Durell told him, coming up with the specs on the fly, "It'll cover the time I have to take to learn your language and to get my people ready for a training mission on this level. I will pay for anybody I hire on your end out of what you pay me. Your people will pay for all equipment. I will tell you what to get for the training exercises, and where you can find it cheaply."

Roto was impressed. Brown was right about Durell. He seemed a bit arrogant and unwilling to accept direction, but Roto took that as a sign that Durell knew what he was doing. Roto also knew that he was probably the quickest way to get the training they needed. To get training with established military units is difficult at best, and would take time they did not have. Durell's price was high, but if he was as good as his reputation it would be worth it.

Roto looked straight at Durell and asked, "When can you start?"

Durell was slightly taken aback by this. He was not really expecting Roto to cave in on the price. He was actually going to pay the five million dollars for the services? It was something that Durell had never even considered. Durell maintained his composure, however, and answered the ambassador.

"As soon as I can get through the immersion course," he said, knowing he would have to go through with it now, "Probably about a month. I can cut leadoff time by having the rest of my team make arrangements while I'm in the immersion course."

"You're going to learn our language in a month?" Roto asked incredulously.

"Enough of it so that I can communicate directly," Durell shrugged, "I'll probably achieve fluency while we're over there."

"Have you done this before?" Roto asked.

"I speak Russian and German," Durell told him, "And enough Polish and Czech to get by. I pick up languages quickly."

"All right," Roto nodded, taking him at his word, "How long will your program take?"

Durell looked thoughtfully at the ceiling for a few seconds.

"As few as two and as many as six months," Durell said, "Depends on how well your people learn, how good their previous training was and how much the language barrier interferes."

"How would you want the money?" Roto asked him, "What are the usual terms?"

"Half up front," Durell replied, "Swiss bank account in American dollars. Don't worry about taxes, I'll handle it. We get the rest when the job is done. First half is non-refundable. If you cancel the job, we walk away with the cash. I start preparations when I confirm the transfer into the Swiss account."

Roto nodded appropriately. He looked at his aide, who shrugged his acquiescence.

"I do believe we have a deal, Mr. Durell," Roto said after a few minutes.

"I guess so, Ambassador," A.J. said as he reached his hand to Roto.

"Would you like to spend the night, Mr. Durell?" Roto offers, "We've got an extra room."

"I can live with that," he said with a smile, "I'll need to get started early tomorrow. I'm assuming that you want this off the ground as soon as possible?"

"As soon as you can manage, Mr. Durell," Roto said seriously, "The longer we have our pants down, the more people will die."

"I understand," Durell said, though he doubted Roto's sincerity on that score, "I'll get to work in the morning if you can arrange the transfer for first thing."

"It will be done," Roto nodded, "The banks are still open over there. I'll have it done by the time you wake up."

Durell nodded and smiled. He could not believe he was taking this job, but for five million dollars he could learn to live with it. He had not left the states in over a year. He felt it was time to travel again. He left Roto sitting in his comfortable chair and followed the aide out of the room.

The aide showed A.J. to his room, leaving him for the night. Durell quickly pulled out a little device from his duffel bag and started checking out the room. It did not take him long to find what he was looking for. As he expected from a foreign embassy he detected no less than four listening devices all over the room.

Durell chuckled to himself and put the device on the table. He pressed a button on the device and it started letting out a high-pitched noise, sure to annoy anyone listening over a radio frequency. He then pulled out a large cell phone from his duffel bag and dialed Teri Michaels' number. It rang for a couple minutes until Teri picked up the phone.

"Hello, Joe's Pizza," she said.

"Hello Joe," Durell said with a smile, "I'd like to talk to Teri about a job."

"Evening boss," She chuckled, "So we're taking it, huh?"

"Yep, right up our alley," Durell said, "Especially with a five million dollar price tag on it."

Durell smiled to himself as he let the figure sink into Teri's skull.

"You did say five million dollars?" she asked incredulously.

"Yep," he said, "He pissed me off and I decided to high quote him. If you think you're surprised, think how I felt when he said that the price was acceptable."

"Can we do the job?" Teri asked him.

"As he defined it, yes," Durell said, "They need help badly."

"What's the plan?" she wondered.

"I'm going to go see Martin Brown again in the morning," A.J. told her, "I'm going to get myself into the Finnish immersion program. I'll be back in town tomorrow night to set things up with you, Mike and Timmy."

"Ok, see you then," Teri said and clicked off the phone.

Durell looked around at the room and decided that he might as well get some sleep. Though it was only 11 in the evening, dreadfully early by his standards, he knew he had a lot to do tomorrow. He also wanted to get out of the embassy fishbowl as soon as possible.

## Chapter 7

A young Finnish couple ate together happily at a popular Helsinki restaurant. Their love was obvious around the room as they held hands. They were celebrating their second wedding anniversary on this warm August evening.

A group of business people were toasting their latest business deal with a bottle of wine at the next table. The boss made eyes at the pretty young woman from the advertising department, waiting for the alcohol to take hold before he did anything else.

And old man and woman enjoyed their dinner quietly in a corner of the restaurant. Though age had worn their features and pushed them through time, it was a beautiful romantic evening and the elderly couple enjoyed a nice selection of local cuisine as the soft music moved through the room.

It was extremely crowded for a Monday night, but this restaurant was one of the better ones in Helsinki. It was common for it to be packed as full as it was. Everyone was having a good time, except for one man.

That man was sitting at the bar looking around nervously at the other patrons. He looked at the young couple for a minute and then darted his eyes around the room some more. He was dressed in a rumpled business suit and carried a briefcase. He also looked like he had had a very bad day. He turned to the bartender and ordered a straight shot of vodka, which he downed quickly.

The other patrons of the restaurant took little notice as the man walked through the section of tables roughly towards the bathroom. He stopped for a minute next to the young couple's table and proceeded to bend down and tie his shoelace.

After a few seconds he stood up and walked on to the bathroom, apparently forgetting the briefcase that he had been carrying around with him. After a minute or so in the bathroom he quickly walked up to the front, paying his check and leaving the restaurant quickly.

All of a sudden, the young husband on his anniversary accidentally hit the briefcase with his foot. He paused in his conversation for a minute and leaned down to take a good look at the case. He picked it up and told his wife that he would be right back. He was going to bring the case to the Maitre D, but never got the chance.

Before he could even get up from his chair the case exploded in his hands. The restaurant that a minute earlier had been a festive place full of people enjoying a late dinner was suddenly transformed into a war zone of the dead and dying.

The barrage of shrapnel killed everyone within a 20-foot radius of the blast instantly. The bomb in the briefcase was extremely well made for its purpose. Two large blocks of C4 plastique were placed in the bottom center of the briefcase and surrounded by standard ten-penny nails. When the bomb exploded on the table in front of the young husband, it not only disintegrated him instantly, but also threw thousands of nails in all directions around the restaurant.

The police and emergency vehicles made it to the scene in minutes, to find a scene of complete and utter horror. At least forty had died in the blast, another fifty or so sported various injuries, most of which were serious. It was one of the worst terrorist attacks in Europe that year and the worst one in Finnish history.

## Chapter 8

Durell awoke sometime around six in the morning. He awoke to the bustling of people in the hall and started to get up. He dressed quickly and fired up a cigarette. He opened the door to see people scurrying all over the place.

Durell looked around curiously and pulled one woman over to the side.

"What's going on?" he asked casually, "Place looks like a stampede has hit it."

The woman looked at him incredulously for a minute, and then replied with her thick Finnish accent, "Sir, a bomb exploded in a crowded restaurant in Helsinki. Over forty people were killed."

The news hit Durell as a shock, but he asked the logical question, "Any idea who did it?"

"No word yet, and people are clogging the phones making sure their relatives are all right."

Durell nodded and the woman went back about her business. He made his way to Roto's office to find out the status of things. Roto was sitting behind his desk talking in rapid Finnish on the phone. As soon as he hung up he looked up and saw Durell there.

"I assume someone told you what happened," Roto said to him.

Durell merely nodded as there was little for him to say.

"Now do you see why we need this help?" Roto asked futilely.

"I don't know if we can help prevent stuff like this, Ambassador," Durell told him, "But you'll get the best I can give."

"No," Roto sighed, "Perhaps not, but any training we can get will be for the better. If we cannot prevent them, maybe we can stop them from being successful. The money will be in this Swiss account by noon today."

Roto handed Durell a piece of paper with the account information on it.

"I'll go over and start preparations today," Durell said, "Provided the money shows up on time I'll probably start the immersion course tomorrow."

Durell left the building quickly and went over to the NSA headquarters. He was quickly admitted and sent up to Brown's office.

"I'm assuming you took the job?" Brown said as soon as Durell walked in, "Nasty business with that bomb in Helsinki."

"Yep," Durell said, "I need quick entrance into your immersion course. They want me to start soon."

"I'll make some calls. Give my secretary a few minutes to give you the address and directions. When do you want to start?"

"Any time after Tomorrow," Durell said, "I need to fly down to Raleigh to give instructions to my people. Then I'll fly to where the course is."

"Durbel, California," Brown told him, "Its part of a large language center we run out there. The Finnish section is small, but if you're a quick learner you should pick up quite a bit rather quickly. My secretary will type up a letter telling them to let you in as well."

"Much appreciated, Martin," Durell said with a smile.

Durell went out into the anteroom of the office and waited for the paperwork to go through. It took about 30 minutes, which he killed sitting on one of the waiting chairs and reading a paperback. Durell was the type that could not stand having a lack of intellectual stimulation for an extended period, so he carried a paperback with him constantly.

Durell took the papers and headed directly to the airport. He smoked while the Delta clerk set him on a plane for RDU, which ended up leaving in 40 minutes. Durell truly hated traveling, but he did it because it was part of the job. While he was waiting, he went to the phone bank and called Switzerland. Roto's people must have been working overtime, because the money was already there.

Durell quickly had it switched over to one of the accounts he maintained for foreign use. He then transferred some over to the US corporate account to cover expenses for his trip to California and for the initial stuff Teri and the rest were going to have to do while Durell was out of contact.

## Chapter 9

Durell arrived in Raleigh at about six in the evening, and called the team in for a meeting at his apartment as soon as they could make it. They were used to Durell's odd working hours and all readily agreed. Durell kicked back in his chair and decided to have a beer and play a quick game of Risk while he was waiting for everyone to show up.

Teri showed up first, a little after eight in the evening. She was dressed in her usual jeans and T-shirt and smiling.

"Want a beer, kiddo?" he asked her without taking his eyes of his game of Risk.

"Sure. I know where they are," she said with a grin, "Still playing that thing, huh?"

"Yeah... Finally have a good opponent out in California," Durell said, "He's trying to do a runaround on me, but I think I can stop him."

"So what is the story on the job?" she asked as she took the seat next to his Computer easy chair.

"It's a go. I'm going to have to head to Cali tomorrow to the language center down in Durbel."

Teri chuckled, "Where the hell is Durbel?"

"According to the NSA people it's about forty miles north of LA. Have to fly to LAX and then drive a rental car to Durbel," A.J. said with a grimace as one of his major units got clobbered on the screen, "I think I'm going to spend more time flying this week than I have on the ground."

"Good for you, A.J." she said with a grin as another knock came on the door.

"Mike and Tim," they said simultaneously.

A few seconds later they walked in the door. Due to Durell's ever worsening knees, he long ago told them that if they were expected to just come in. It was a way he made his life easier.

"Have a seat guys, this battle should be over in just a minute. There's beer in the fridge."

And the battle ended about thirty seconds later. Durell's opponent came through with a charge that split his forces hopelessly. He chuckled and congratulated his opponent on a good game, surrendering the rest of the game so he could talk to everyone.

"Ok. I'm assuming Teri told you about what I was doing up in DC yesterday?"

Mike nodded and Tim asked for a clarification.

Durell explained what he and Roto discussed at the meeting in DC. He also took great pleasure in seeing their jaws drop as he told them how much the job was worth.

"So what do you need us to do?" Teri asked.

"Get yourselves ready for an extended trip abroad. Find the equipment dealers and get the stats to Roto in DC. His people are supposed to take care of that end of it. Study up on Finland and try to learn some basic phrases."

"How long do we have?" Tim asked.

"Depends on how long I have to spend in the immersion course. I'm hoping that it won't be too hard, since I already speak German, but it may take me as long as a month. Be prepared to leave as soon as two weeks. You start on normal work pay as of Tomorrow. We'll split up the larger sum after the job is over."

"Works for me," Mike said, "How are we supposed to teach if we can't speak the language, though?"

"Translators," Durell replied, "Which is the first thing we'll have to do when we get over there. Mainly what we're going to do is a little classroom work, and help them set up a proper training program."

"I never expected to be a teacher," Tim said with a grin, "Never once in all the times I spent in detention did I ever expect that."

"Don't worry, since you don't speak the language, you'll probably be more of a demonstration dummy," Durell said with a grin.

"Emphasis on the dummy part," Mike added.

They all had a good laugh at that.

"I've got to fly out to Cali tomorrow, so I'm going to have to kick you guys out and get some sleep. That's all I have for you."

Everyone said their goodnights and left Durell to himself. He looked out the window and up at the sky, wondering how well this was going to go. If he truly knew what he was in for, he would not have touched this job or the five million dollars with a ten-foot pole.

## Chapter 10

Durell departed the plane at 10 in the morning, having left Durbel at around 11pm the previous night. He was tired, sleep being elusive in an airplane for him. He fired up a cigarette as soon as he could after collecting his luggage and went to the long-term lot to collect his car.

It had been a long and grueling month for him, but he walked out of Durbel the previous night having mastered the language to the point of near fluency. He was sure that he could work out what little problems he still had with more time in immersion, which should not be difficult once in Finland.

He drove back to his apartment and let himself in. He went to the fridge for a coke, almost dreading what he would find there, lurking in the stuff he'd forgotten to throw away before he left. Durell was pleasantly surprised to find a nearly empty fridge, containing just the 12 pack of coke and 4 cans of beer he had left and 2 fresh looking sandwiches which he was sure he had not.

A.J. looked around and found a note on the table. He picked it up and took a quick read of it.

"Welcome back, guy," the note read, "I took a few minutes to clean out the wildlife in the fridge and leave you something edible while I was here. Give me a call when you get home."

Teri had left the note, of course. He smiled a bit to himself as he popped open a can of coke and downed half of it in one pull. He then fired up a cigarette and brought the sandwiches with him over to his easy chair. He picked up the phone and punched in Teri's number.

"Hello," came the voice over the line.

"What's up, Teri?" Durell asked, "Just got back in."

"How did it go?" she asked him, "Your language skills up to par now?"

"Should be," he admitted, "Though I'm not sure how I'll do against natives. Probably take a couple weeks to get acclimated."

"We going soon?" she asks him.

"As soon as I clear the final details with the Finns. Most likely will be on a plane by Friday," Durell says and then thought a moment, "Maybe sooner if they're insistent."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked him.

"Have you got the equipment and stuff ready?"

"All I need is a place to ship to and someone to bill it to."

"You'll get that either later today or tomorrow," Durell told her, "I'm going to relax for a couple hours and make some phone calls. Call Tim and Mike and tell them to pack up for an extended stay. I think we're going to see a Finnish Christmas this year."

"Lovely," she says dryly, "I'll pack some winter clothes."

"You'll need them," he agreed, "It gets cold up there."

She laughed and then hung up the phone to follow instructions. Durell took a big bite of one of the roast beef sandwiches and looked for Roto's number in Washington. He found it on the back of an old ATM receipt and punched it in after downing the last of the first sandwich.

He went through the usual rigmarole of secretaries and underlings before Roto finally came on to the phone. He sounded more hurried in his greetings and sounded genuinely weary. Durell wondered how bad things were really getting.

"We're ready to go anytime, Ambassador," Durell says and added the next line in Finnish, "My language lessons took a little longer than expected, but the equipment is ready. All we need is a place to have it shipped and someone to take the bill."

"I'll fax it to your office this afternoon," Roto said absently, "When can you start?"

"How soon can you make the arrangements?" Durell answered his question with a question.

"The arrangements are set, just waiting for my call to inform them of your arrival."

"I'll have Teri work out the shipping tomorrow and set up the plane reservations. I'll then inform your office of our departure and arrival times."

"I'll inform them of your impending arrival. You'll deal with General Kahilainen upon your arrival there," Roto told him, "I pray that you do your job well, Mr. Durell. If you don't, then my government may well fall."

"I make no promises," Durell told him, "I will do my best."

"That is all anyone can do, I suppose," Roto said with a sigh and hung up the phone.

Durell sat there for a couple minutes staring at the phone. Again he wondered just what it was that he was getting into. He shrugged off the thought and downed the last of the cola while he hit the power button for his computer. It would be a while before he got a chance to compete online, so he figured he might as well get a few games in before he left.

## Chapter 11

Things moved quickly on the 24th, as they always did just before a job. Durell and his cohorts packed quickly and made their arrangements for an extended leave. Teri also had the training equipment sent to Finland and made the plane.

In some ways, this group was stereotypical. Durell was the mind of the group, as he planned the jobs and handled the bottom line. Teri was the organizer, and despite the sexist implications was left with the secretarial duties, while Mike and Timmy were the muscle. Teri became the organizer mainly because she had the mind for the details that Durell did not have time for and that Mike and Tim were too dense for.

Durell packed his meager luggage, a hodgepodge of old baggage collected over years of traveling around. He made sure he had enough of everything, but not too much. He was sure to have to do laundry over there anyway. He started carrying his stuff over to the car when his right knee decided to go out on him.

He let out a line of curses until he saw that there were a few neighborhood kids coming his way. He bit the words off and managed to get himself on his feet. Durell was getting concerned about his right knee.

Durell managed to manhandle the other three suitcases into his van and get back into the house. He hobbled over to the kitchen and got an ice pack from the freezer and lowered himself down in one of his kitchen chairs.

"Fucking knee," he mumbled to himself as he proceeded to ice it down.

## Chapter 12

The Russian, Timonchenko, walked into a little store in Helsinki at around two in the afternoon. Standing at around five foot six, he was a typical Russian. A little short for the rank he once held in the KGB, but ferocious enough to make up for it, Aleksandr Timonchenko would have been the equivalent of a General had the Soviet Union not collapsed and taken his hopes for the future with it.

Timonchenko had been a committed Marxist-Leninist all his life, although he regularly abused the system the way that most of the Party elite had done during the corrupt and morally bankrupt experiment that had been the Soviet Union. After the collapse, he was one of the hardliners that was retired early by Yeltzin and his new Democratic republic.

Timonchenko walked up to the counter and lit one of his cigarettes. He asked in flawless Finnish for someone in the back by name and waited for the person to get the one he asked for.

When the man whom Timonchenko asked for came out his eyes registered shock. Wordlessly he motioned the Russian to the back of the little store and closed the door once they entered the storeroom.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the man asked, "If I am seen with you it could ruin everything!"

"Relax, Arto," Timonchenko said smoothly, "Who's going to tell? That punk kid that runs the counter?"

"What do you want?" Arto Paasilinna said with a sigh, "It's all I can do to keep my business running, and you come here for more help."

"You will be a politician again soon, Arto," Timonchenko promised, "We make our move on the first of November. The pieces are almost in place. On the first everything will be ready."

"So soon?" Paasilinna asked warily, "I thought you were going to wait until January."

"Unforeseen developments have occurred that make it easier to do it sooner rather than later," Timonchenko explained as if lecturing a schoolboy, "It seems that your Ambassador in Washington has come up with a ringer. An American by the name of Durell is going to come to Finland before the week is out to start training your forces."

"How is that possible?" Paasilinna spat while biting back a curse, "You said there was no way that Roto could possibly convince the Americans to send help, and even if he did manage to do so that they wouldn't be here until next year some time!"

"As I said," Timonchenko continued, "Roto brought in a ringer. Durell runs an American freelance team that specializes in training for hostage situations. Coincidentally, he is someone who I happen to be very familiar with."

"Should we worry about this man?" Paasilinna asked worriedly.

"Not yet," Timonchenko said, "He was a nuisance to me and my people in Czechoslovakia years ago, but has not been politically active since then. I personally chased the son of a bitch out of Czechoslovakia after his cell interfered with a major operation back in the mid eighties. I don't think he will be a problem if he is neutralized early."

"One man is supposed to fix the problems with the terrorists?" Paasilinna asked, "I find that hard to believe."

"No," Timonchenko replied, "But his team is expert at training people. Give him two months over here and he'd have at least one crack squad ready and the staff ready to train more."

"So you are moving the timetable up because of him?" Paasilinna wondered, "Unlike you, Aleksandr."

"Yes," Timonchenko told Paasilinna, "Durell killed a dozen KGB agents a decade ago and nearly killed me too. I wouldn't mind another shot at him after that."

"What do you need me to do?" Paasilinna asked worriedly.

"Get your people in the armed forces ready," Timonchenko said without hesitation, "The terror campaign is working. We'll round up the government people on the first. I will also have Durell picked up at the start of it and take care of him myself."

Paasilinna started protesting, but Timonchenko would hear none of it. He cut him off and left the room with three words.

"Don't fuck up," he said as he left the building and disappeared onto the street.

## Chapter 13

Durell and company departed the United States on a flight to Helsinki via Washington DC and London at eight in the morning. Durell, who was not a morning person, was barely conscious as he and his team showed up at RDU for the flight. They made it to the terminal with only minutes to spare and managed to get checked in quickly.

Teri settled in with a novel, while Mike and Tim played poker. Durell was always lousy about flying and had done too much of it in the past few months. He just closed his eyes and tried to relax until it was all over. Alas, the flight to Dulles was a short one, and they got off the plane for an hour's layover shortly before ten in the morning. Durell walked around the airport grabbing a few smokes before the long flight to Helsinki.

"Getting your fix before you get on the plane, huh?" Teri said as she caught Durell smoking in a busy section of the airport.

"Yeah," A.J. said between drags, "Gotta get the fix in while I can."

"You do know that you can smoke on an international flight, don't you?" Teri said with a grin.

Durell looked at her, "You sure about that?"

" Of course," Teri grinned, "Would I have booked you, of all people, on a non-smoking flight?"

Durell chuckled and finished off his smoke.

"You nervous?" he asked Teri, "You've never been to that part of Europe before."

"A bit," she admitted, "I always get nervous on a foreign job. And this one is a bit close to the Russians, you know?"

"I will admit that I'm a little worried about that," Durell conceded, "But the Russians would face a shit storm of protests if they grabbed me and brought me over there for trial. Not to mention the fact that I wasn't a criminal inside of Russia, just to the Soviet Regime that no longer exists."

"I just hope you're right," Teri said with a sigh, "Some of those people carry grudges for a long time."

"When is our flight?" Durell asked her, trying to change the subject.

"Damn!" she swore, "Ten minutes."

With that, they collected Mike and Timmy and headed to the flight. Durell took his seat in the smoking section and puffed his way through two packs during the flight to Finland. Two novels and eight hours later, they landed at the international airport in Helsinki.

All of them were wide-awake, despite the fact that it was nearly two in the morning local time. Jet lag was always a bitch, and they would be paying for it for several days.

They were met at the Helsinki-Vantaa airport by a couple of government people whose names were unpronounceable to everyone but Durell. One of the men spoke English, but it turned out that Durell's Finnish was much better than his English was, so they talked in Finnish and Durell translated.

It was not much of a conversation, being as early in the morning as it was for them. They brought Durell and company to a nice hotel and smoothed through the late check-in. Everyone was a bit tired from the traveling, but nobody particularly wanted to go to bed. Mike and Tim decided to get some room service and play some more poker, while A.J. and Teri decided to take a walk. They went downstairs and talked to one of the porters, asking how safe it was to be out on the streets.

"Excuse me," Durell asked the porter in Finnish, "I'm new to the area and don't know much about it. Is there any area we should avoid at night?"

"Your Finnish is excellent sir," The porter said in flawless English, "I was told that we'd have important visitors from the USA soon. May I assume that you are they?"

"Safe assumption," Durell admitted in English.

"Welcome to Helsinki then," the Porter said, "This City is fairly safe to walk around in at night, and since your Finnish is so good, you shouldn't have a major problem with finding your way around."

"Thank you," Teri said with a smile, "I hope the rest of Finland is as nice as this hotel."

"I'm sure you will find it so, Madame," The porter said with a smile.

"Thanks for your trouble," Durell said in Finnish and handed him a markka.

"Thank you, sir!" the man replied happily.

Durell and Teri walked around the streets for an hour or so, taking in the architecture and the scenery. Helsinki seemed to be a much cleaner city than most of the ones they were used to, and the streets were uncannily deserted. Not like an American city at all, to Durell's way of thinking.

"What do you think, A.J.?" Teri asked Durell as they walked down a deserted street.

"Nice city," Durell says absently, "A little lacking on the activity side, though."

"Yeah," Teri said, "I think I need to sleep some tonight though. Shall we head back to the hotel?"

Teri and A.J. went back to the hotel and arrived at about five in the morning. Teri slipped off to try to get a little sleep before they started looking around in the morning. Durell went into his room and just lay there on the bed staring at the ceiling for a while.

After a few minutes of futilely trying to go to sleep he got up and looked around the room. After a few minutes, he found his eyes going over to the phone book. He spent a few minutes trying to decipher the format, but with the help of his translation book and some work, he figured it out.

He flipped to the P section and slowly looked for a familiar name. Finally he came to it. Pekarininen, Katarina. He wrote down the number for future reference and reclined back down on the bed. Durell smiled to himself and remembered the first time he met Kat, back in 1982. He was a senior, impatient to get out of that despicable place that he called a high school. His father had been a wealthy industrialist, but rather than spend the money for a private school, his family had always given money to the local schools. Money ill spent, in A.J.'s opinion.

## Chapter 14

Durell had actually been young and fit back in 1982 when he was still in high school. A voracious reader, he spent his lunch hours outside reading a book rather than risk food poisoning by eating the stuff they laughingly called food in the school cafeteria. He even remembered the book he was reading that time, as it was still one of his all time favorites, Fer De Lance, the first Nero Wolfe novel by Rex Stout.

He was sitting alone that day, as had been the norm for the new school year. He had had few friends in that school, and all of them had lunch during the later session that year. So he propped himself up on the front steps of the school and started reading in his normally fast pace.

All of a sudden, he was set upon by a young girl, had to be a freshman or a sophomore. She looked a little scared, and her voice had an accent that the young Durell could not place, but she asked if she could sit down. Her English was a little shaky, but he invited her to sit down with him.

"Thank you," she said and plopped down on the steps, "My name is Katarina. Forgive my intrusion..."

"It's no intrusion at all," Durell said with a smile, "I'm A.J. Durell. It's nice to have some pleasant company in this place."

"I'm glad someone thinks I'm pleasant to be around," she said.

"Tough crowd around here, isn't it?" Durell said with a chuckle as a couple of punks walked by them.

"Not exactly what I expected when I signed up for the program," she agreed.

"Foreign Exchange student?" Durell asked, knowing it was a stupid question as he did so.

"Yes," she said with a smile, "I'm from Finland."

"Nice to meet you, Katarina," Durell said while extending his hand, "I do hope that you'll see nicer things here in the USA than this lousy high school."

"Well, at least I've finally met someone who isn't a total..."

She searched for the right word in English, but couldn't find it and spat out something that was undecipherable to Durell, but whose meaning was abundantly clear. Durell himself had to grin at that one.

"I think the English word that you're looking for in this case is 'prick'," A.J. said with a grin.

They both had a nice laugh on that one. The conversation went on for a while, and by the end of it they were fast friends. They started meeting there every day at lunch, mainly just to talk about whatever was going on. It was mostly platonic between them, mainly because of the three year difference in their ages and due to the fact that she was going to have to go back to Finland at the end of the year.

She turned out to have a wonderful sense of humor, and reacted well to Durell's brand of sarcastic cynicism. They spent some time together, her helping him with his seriously lacking math skills and him helping her with her English. Graduation time was a bittersweet one for both of them. She managed to stay long enough to see him go through the ceremony, but had to return to Finland soon after.

"A.J.," She said to him the last time that they were able to hang out together, "Thank you for being such a good friend to me this year."

"Hey Kat," Durell said with a smile, "It's been fun. We'll have to do it again sometime, you know?"

"If you're ever in Finland, look me up," she said with a smile and kissed him on the cheek.

Before Durell could do anything more than smile, she gathered up her stuff and left. All he could do was watch as she walked down the street, and wish that she had been a couple years older at the time.

## Chapter 15

Durell woke up at noon and looked at the sun shining through his windows. He grumbled a little and swung himself upright, getting nothing but the aftereffects of Jet Lag for his troubles. He groped around for his pack of cigarettes, and lit one up as soon as he found them.

He sat on the bed and looked out the window at the bustling streets below as he smoked his cigarette. Mornings were not Durell's strong suit at the best of times and after the previous day's travel he certainly was not at his best. Despite the fact that it was noon, he still felt like shit.

He had just about finished the cigarette when he heard a knock on his door.

"Who is it?" he asked in Finnish.

"It's Teri," she said loudly through the door, "Stop talking gibberish and let me in!"

He quickly put his pants on and went to the door. Teri was there, looking a mite impatient and more awake that she could have possibly felt. He glared at her and lit up another cigarette.

"What do you want?" he asked testily.

"Breakfast," she said with a grin, recognizing his mood, "And since you're the only one of us who speaks this language, we thought it would be prudent to bring you along with us."

He grumbled a little more, but finished getting dressed so he could accompany them down to the dining room. He realized then that he should have brought Teri to the language training, and possibly Mike and Tim as well. Well, at least Teri. Mike and Tim were good at their jobs, but they were not bright enough to master a language quickly.

Durell finished tying his boots and trudged on down with Teri, Mike and Tim to the dining room. He was pleased to see that the American fetish for banning smoking in restaurants didn't apply to this part of the world. He lit up at the table, studiously ignoring Teri's glare of disapproval.

The waiter came over to the table, said something pleasant that Durell was in no mood to translate and left the menus for them. Since the menus were quite obviously in Finnish they left it to Durell to do the translations. He made it easier on himself and asked them what they were in the mood for.

Teri wanted eggs, Mike and Tim wanted hamburgers. Durell could not find anything resembling a burger on the menu, so he ordered Teri a scrambled egg and the rest of them steaks. Since they were overpaid on this one he figured they should eat well.

Food helped improve Durell's disposition somewhat. He still was feeling severely screwed over by the jet lag, but at least he was not feeling dead anymore. A couple cups of coffee made him feel almost human again.

"So what is the plan for today, O great one?" Teri asked him playfully.

"No plan yet," Durell said, "I'm probably going to talk to our liaison and take a look to see exactly how tough our job really is going to be."

"What do you want us to do?" Tim asked.

"Nothing for now," Durell said, "Just take it easy and get past your jetlag. I'm still not sure what I'm going to have to do. Most likely I'll be setting up classes for these people and we'll be doing some sims."

"How can we do it if we don't speak the language?" Teri asked.

"I'm going to work on that," Durell replied as their food was brought out, "Hopefully they have some officers that speak English. I'm also going to spend some time to find people we can trust for translations."

"I know it's a little late to ask this," Mike piped in, "But just what the hell do they expect us to accomplish here?"

"I'll know that better when I take a tour of their military and police facilities. I need to know what they have to work with before I decide what we have to do with it," Durell said, "We may just have to train what they have, or we might have to help them reorganize as well. Anyway, that's my problem, not yours. Your job will be basically to help me with the training and simulation phase."

"So we're basically on vacation until you decide what to do?" Teri asked.

"Yep," Durell nodded, "That's about the size of it."

With that they finished off their dinner and returned to their rooms. Durell himself went back and got the printout of the contact information Roto had emailed him prior to leaving.

He called the phone number given to him and got a secretary. She answered the phone with a Finnish greeting, so he continued the conversation in that language. He figured the more practice he got the better off he would be.

"Hello," Durell said, "My name is A.J. Durell, and I'm trying to reach General Kahilainen."

"Yes sir," the young woman said in Finnish, "He has been expecting to hear from you. I didn't know you spoke Finnish so well, sir."

"I'm still new with it, so please continue speaking clearly and I'll be fine. I'd like to meet with the General today if that is possible. It seems that we have a lot of work to do and I would like to get a handle on where I need to begin."

"The General didn't expect you to be up and around today, Mr. Durell," the receptionist said apologetically, "He has meetings scheduled all day today. Perhaps you wouldn't mind taking the rest of the day off and recovering from Jet Lag some more?"

"Actually," Durell said, "I recover faster while I'm doing something. Are my team's paperwork and passes complete yet?"

"Those won't be ready until the morning either, sir."

Durell had to chuckle at this. The country and the language may change, but bureaucracy is the same no matter where you go. Even communism never changed that. The communist countries he was in and out of in his twenties had more bureaucracy than any capitalist country he had ever been. Durell had been in lots of both in his lifetime.

"Ok," he said while grinning to himself, "I'm sure I'll think of something to do until tomorrow."

With that he put down the phone and went outside. It was a nice day out for the time of year and the latitude. Of course, given the fact that Helsinki was on the same parallel as Greenland and Iceland the nice October day was around 20 degrees and snowing. Durell had learned all of this during his time at the language center and was dressed accordingly. He was wearing a thick jacket, hat and gloves.

He lit up the last cigarette from his pack of smokes and started walking down the street. He looked at the empty pack for a second and grumbled as he remembered he forgot to buy a new carton to bring with him before he left the states. He walked down the street and found a little store. He went in hoping that he could buy a few packs of cigarettes.

He walked into the little store, looked around at the meager selection of goods. Fresh food was nonexistent, and the shelves were looking rather bare. He walked up to the back of the store and found the shopkeeper, waiting on some customers.

Durell looked around some more and finally found what he was looking for. The words said they were cigarettes, but they looked nothing like ones he was used to. He sighed and figured he would have to get used to them. He picked up a couple packs of various types and headed up to the counter.

Before he could get there a couple of people screamed. He turned around and saw a couple people holding machine pistols. They looked like badly made Czech models, and the men holding them obviously were not that experienced with them. Durell cursed to himself for allowing himself to be caught unarmed.

The men yelled in Finnish for everyone to hit the floor. Durell knew the drill as well as anyone. Do not make a move until you have the opportunity. Making yourself into a corpse will not benefit anyone.

Apparently, the shop owner was not smart enough to figure that out for himself. He stood up and started arguing with the young men.

"Never piss off the guy with the gun," Durell mumbled as he heard one of the guns spit out half a clip into the poor owner.

The two men spit out a whole bunch of clichés and bullied all the rest of the patrons. They were not a very professional group in Durell's opinion. In the states, any professional SWAT team would already have put them down for the count. Maybe even by a simple patrolman walking a beat nearby.

Durell did not have the luxury at that point to wait for the police to arrive. The two men in the store with him were not very stable and he heard no sounds indicating that things were going to change anytime soon. Strangely enough, despite the fact that the two lunatics were using loud, unsilenced weapons, there was no indication that the police were on the way.

The two men were busy robbing everyone in the store. One of them took their time with it and came over to Durell. He was sloppy and went straight for Durell's wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. An experienced man would have held the gun with his right hand, pointing at the back of the skull while fishing in the pocket with the other hand. This one put the gun in his left hand, holding it by the butt.

This was too much for Durell to take. He saw his opportunity and used it. He prayed silently before he moved that his knees would hold up until this was over. He used his left leg to knock his assailant in the back of his knee, knocking him off balance. Before his surprised attacker could get the gun back in his right hand Durell had flipped over and let off a sharp punch in the testicles. The man dropped the gun in pain as Durell used his legs to push him out of the way.

The other terrorist had noticed the commotion at this point, but was slow in deciding that Durell was a threat. By the time he fired shots at where Durell had been lying Durell had grabbed the other man's weapon and rolled behind a shelf. The only thing the terrorist managed to hit was his partner, killing him instantly.

Durell quickly got himself up and got the weapon into his hands, checking to make sure that it was readied. He was not overly familiar with the weapon, but had seen the specs for it in a magazine a while back. He stayed low behind the shelf and listened for the other one's footsteps.

Durell was not disappointed. His opponent had no idea how to think strategically. The idiot simply charged around the shelf right towards Durell. Durell took aim and pulled the trigger, letting out a perfect automatic burst right into the gunman's chest. The idiot was dead before he hit the floor.

Durell quickly jumped up and kicked the gun away from the corpse. He then scanned the room for any hostiles he had missed. He breathed a sigh of relief and picked the other weapon up off the floor. No need checking the dead men's pulses, they were very obviously dead. Durell's shots had been true. He finally heard sirens outside as he looked up.

"About fucking time," Durell grumbled, "I've got one hell of a job ahead of me if this is the best they can do."

Four policemen showed up and came into the store with guns drawn. Durell dropped the weapons and raised his hands, explaining to the policemen what happened. Surprisingly, the men took Durell at his word, especially after a few frightened patrons told them about what he did.

While the officers were talking to the other people Durell went over to the cigarette rack and picked up a couple packs of smokes. He unwrapped one pack and lit up while he waited for the police to get back to him.

"Sir," the officer asked respectfully in Finnish, "We're going to have to ask you to come down to the station and fill out some paperwork with us."

Durell nodded solemnly and went out with the men. He noted that there was very little crime scene protection and only the four officers responding. He sighed as he realized that he had his work cut out for him.

Two of them drove Durell to the police station and led him inside. He was questioned about what happened and what he did. Durell told them what he had seen and explained what he had done all the way down the line. It was all written down, and they left him alone in the room for a bit.

Durell was halfway through the pack of cigarettes when someone finally came into the room. He didn't recognize any of the insignia as of yet, but the way that he walked and carried himself made Durell think that he may be a fairly high ranking man.

"Well, Mr. Durell," the man said in passable English, "We meet at last. I was scheduled to meet you tomorrow. I am General Kahilainen. I regret the incident in the store today. I hope you are all right?"

"Not a scratch," Durell replied after taking a drag on his cigarette, "It would appear that we have a lot of work to do, General. Your police response needs a lot of work."

"Yes," he sighed, "I'm aware of that. I still don't know what you have planned, but I hope that you will be able to come up with answers that I have not."

"Then we'll start with the ground up," Durell told him, "I'll need passes and permission to look at your facilities and talk with your men."

"They will be ready for you in the morning," Kahilainen acknowledged, "You will have access to whatever you need. A translator will be waiting..."

"That won't be necessary," Durell said in Finnish, "I speak your language well enough to get around. I just need a car, directions and the passes to get around."

"You'll have them," General Kahilainen said, "And don't worry about this incident. You did a good job at handling those punks."

"Wasn't hard General," Durell said with a grin, "They were stupid. Their only leverage was a machine pistol, which is useless unless you know how to use it intelligently. They didn't."

"Yes, I guess that is true," Kahilainen said with a smile, "Roto said that you were intelligent. I look forward to working with you."

"And I you, General," Durell said with a smile, "If you don't need anything else for me, I'm going to go out and have a nice stiff drink and look for a place to buy some more cigarettes. Hopefully, I can buy a pack without getting shot at this time."

"I hope so too," the General agreed, "If you need anything, let me know, Mr. Durell."

With that, Durell shook hands with the General and left the building. He went out to the street and walked down to another store. He went in and managed to buy four packs of cigarettes without incident. He walked back to the hotel in the freezing cold and went back up to his room.

## Chapter 16

Timonchenko pulled up his old car to the little hut outside of the town of Imatra just after two in the afternoon. He got out of the vehicle, an ancient Russian model that was not common, but not totally unknown in the streets of Finland. He then looked around to see if there was anyone around.

Satisfied that he had not been followed, Timonchenko entered the hut. Sitting there with a bottle of vodka was an old man, probably somewhere in his mid seventies. The old man looked up and nodded his head as Timonchenko sat down across the table from him.

"Things are in motion, Old Timer," Timonchenko told him in Russian, "Are your people ready to do their part?"

"Why did you move the timetable up?" the old man asked, "It's risky to make a move this soon. It's even riskier to alter the plan that we had set up."

"They brought Andrew Durell in for consultation and training," Timonchenko informed him.

"That son of a bitch? Who brought him in?" the old man demanded, "I thought that bastard was dead!"

"The ambassador in Washington found him," Timonchenko explained, "Evidently he is being paid to set up a training program for their police and military forces."

"Is he why you moved up the plan?" the old man asked him.

"Yes," Timonchenko acknowledged, "He won't have enough time to do anything in a week, but give him a month he will know the system here enough that he could cause a problem to our plans."

"He did raise a storm for us in Czechoslovakia back in 86, didn't he?" The old man admitted, "Nearly killed you as well."

"I'm well aware of that," Timonchenko grumbled, "I intend to get him quickly."

"If we can grab him when our people take the local government, we can trade him to Yeltsin's government for some concessions," Petrukin smiled, "After you get in a few punches for old time's sake."

Timonchenko was not thrilled by this, but knew he had little say in the matter. The old man nodded solemnly and handed Timonchenko the bottle. He took a long pull from it and gave the old man a rare smile.

"I think we may pull it off this time, old timer," He said as he handed the bottle back, "Use Finland as a base to subvert Yeltzin's republic, then we can get the Soviet Union back to what Lenin and Stalin intended."

The old man merely nodded at that, but let a smile crack his weathered lips as he did so.

## Chapter 17

Durell had been lying down on the bed for only a few minutes when a knock came upon his door. He groaned but got up to answer it. It had taken a while, but his knee was finally starting to tell him that it was not happy with the strain that he had put on it earlier. He made it to the door and peeked through the peephole to see Teri's blonde mop standing impatiently close to the door. Durell sighed and opened the door. Teri came barreling in and sat down on the chair. Durell went back over to the bed and sat down.

"Are you ok?" she asked in concern, "Damnit, we haven't even been here a full day yet and you manage to get yourself shot at."

"I'm fine," Durell said, "They were stupid. It was just a case of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all. I'm glad it happened though."

"What?" Teri asked in surprise, "Why would you be glad to be involved in that?"

"Because," Durell said as he let out a stream of smoke, "I learned more about what their problems are from that experience than I could have from anything I saw in weeks of touring."

"What did you learn?" She asked, intrigued.

"Their response time sucks," Durell said, "The police didn't show up until long after I had dispatched tweedledum and tweedledummer. They know little about crime scene preservation and seem to have no grasp about how to handle a hostage situation."

"So we have our work cut out for us?" Teri asked.

"In some ways," Durell acknowledged, "In others, we will have it easier. They seem to have had no training at all. It's often easier to start with nothing than it is to eliminate poor training. Anyway, I need to work on finding you some translators. I'm going to make some calls in an hour or so."

"Got any leads?" She asked.

"One or two," Durell lied, as he had no idea what he was going to do.

They sat there for a few minutes. Durell had gone into one of his contemplative moods as he usually did after an encounter like he'd had a few hours before. Teri decided not to press him anymore and went back to play cards with Mike and Tim some more.

Durell decided it was time to take a chance and call Katarina. He sincerely hoped that it was the right number in the Helsinki directory. He knew he was going to feel like a total moron if it was not her, but he decided he had nothing to lose and that even if she could not do translation herself, she might know someone who could.

He picked up the phone and punched in the number he had found in the book five hours before. The phone rang about six times before a feminine voice came onto the line.

"Hello," he heard the voice say over the line in Finnish.

"Hello," he replied, also in Finnish, "I'm looking for Katarina Pekarininen."

"This is she..." came the hesitant voice.

"The same one who spent a year in an American high school nearly fifteen years ago?" Durell asked, wanting to make sure he had the right one.

"Thirteen actually," she said, "Who is this?"

Durell chuckled and decided it had to be her. He decided to say the next line in English.

"Well, you told me to drop in if I was ever in Finland," Durell said with a smile, "I know it's been a long time, but I'm in the area and figured I'd drop a line."

He could almost hear her jaw hitting the floor. He grinned a little and waited for her to say something, hoping that she'd remember who he was.

"A.J.?" she said incredulously, "Is that you?"

"Yep," he replied, "It's me in the flesh. I'm sitting here in a hotel room in Helsinki."

She said a few words quietly that he was not able to catch. He chuckled for a moment and she quickly returned to the line.

"Your Finnish has obviously improved as well," She said, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing a job for your government," Durell said, "If you're free, how bout dinner and some conversation? On me, of course."

"That sounds great," Katarina said quickly, "What hotel are you at?"

Durell told her and asked her to be gentle on him, as he had been in this city approximately 18 hours.

"There's a nice little café right down the street from you," She said cheerily, "I can be there in about an hour. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds fine to me," he said with a smile on his face, "Will I be able to recognize you?"

"Perhaps, but since you will probably be there first, how will I recognize you?" she asked him.

"Well, I'm a bit bigger than I was back then. I'm six foot two now. I have a full beard and am a large guy. I'm wearing jeans and a black winter jacket."

"Jeans and black jacket," she said with a chuckle, "Well, at least some things haven't changed any."

"See you in an hour?" he asked.

"See you then, A.J.," She agreed.

She clicked off the phone and Durell smiled a little.

"Well, at least something positive may come out of this damn day," Durell said to himself.

Durell decided to head over and see what the rest of his team was doing. He heard voices coming out of Timmy's room and went over to knock on the door.

"Come in!" Tim shouted.

Durell went into the room and saw all three of them spread out around a table with cards spread around.

"What's up, A.J.?" Mike asked as he surveyed his hand, "I'll take two."

Teri dealt Mike two cards, while Tim motioned with his hand that he did not want any. Teri herself took three.

"Piss up a rope," Mike said disgustedly as he folded his hand.

Durell sat down on the bed and watched the rest of the hand play out. It was between Mike and Teri now. He could see Teri's cards and she had nothing at all. He figured it would be interesting to see whether she could bluff Mike or not.

Mike took a good look at Teri and upped the bet by a quarter. She made a study of her cards as if she was contemplating and then tossed two quarters into the pot.

Mike raised her again, which she met and tripled. Mike started getting nervous and debated on whether to meet her bet. He decided against it and folded, giving Teri the pot.

"Nice bluff, Teri" Durell said after she collected the pot, "What did you have Mike?"

"A pair of tens," he said with a grin, "How bout you, Timmy?"

"Damn," he said with a sorrowful look on his face, "I folded with a pair of queens."

"Want me to deal you in this round, A.J.?" Teri asked him, "I'm five bucks up now. We could use some fresh blood."

"Not me," Durell said, "I'm meeting someone for dinner in a few minutes. Just wanted to see what you guys were up to."

"Wait a minute," Mike said, "You're telling me that while we are stuck up here doing nothing, you have got a date?"

"Not a date, necessarily," Durell said, "Just going to see someone I haven't seen since High School, that's all. Having dinner in a café down the street."

"Cool," Teri said, "Have fun and don't get shot at again, huh?"

"Bet on it," Durell said with a grin and took his exit from the room.

Durell went back to his room and put his coat, hat and gloves back on and headed back outside. He grumbled at the cold, as it was more than he was used to. He walked down the street and read the names of the stores, looking for the café that Kat had referred to on the phone.

He made his way inside and sat down at an empty table on the side, ordering a cup of coffee to help him warm up. He removed his hat and gloves and started smoking a cigarette. He hoped that the cold would get easier to deal with the longer that he was in Finland.

He was on his second cigarette and his third cup of coffee when he looked up at the door and saw a young woman vaguely resembling the girl he remembered walk into the café. He looked up and watched as her eyes darted around the room.

She saw him after a couple passes and headed his direction. He pushed a chair over and asked her to sit down.

"Long time, no see, Kat," Durell said with a grin.

"Oh god," she said with a giggle, "You're telling me! You were the last person I expected to drop into my life again. So how have you been?"

"Not too bad," Durell said, "Had a few rough years in there, but life has been pretty good as of late. How about you?"

"Oh," she said with a smile, "I can't complain too much. I did some modeling for a few years, have been doing odds and ends ever since."

"Yeah," he said, "I heard the economy has been pretty lousy over here since the Soviets fell."

"Yep, the black market was a major source of income for years," She nodded, "I've been going from job to job for two years, and haven't been able to hold on to one long enough to get enough seniority to stay in the job. I've been scratching for a month now."

"That's not good, Kiddo," Durell said, "Luckily recessions don't seem to happen in my line of work."

"What do you do now, anyway?" she asked him, "How did you manage to get a job here? If I didn't know you, I'd be jealous."

"Well, I do a lot of things, but my main stock in trade is terrorism prevention simulations for police forces and military forces," He told her, "Your government hired my team to train their people how to handle modern terrorists."

"And how did you get in that racket?" she asked him with a grin, "I thought you were heading to college to go into your father's business."

"I managed to make it through my first semester and then I started going nuts," Durell explained, "I flunked out at the end of my freshman year and just couldn't stand to go to school anymore. My father was pissed at me, my mother was disappointed in me and my younger brothers were hostile. I just had to get out, so I left the country for a while."

"Oooh," she said with a mocking tone, "I always knew you were an adventurer. How long were you away from home?"

"Eight years," he told her, "I left from New York City in September of 1984 and didn't set foot in the United States again until Christmas of 1992. Ran security for my father's company for a year or so until my brother Randy ran the sucker into the ground. Began doing the hostage simulations in the middle of last year."

The waitress came around and they ordered their dinner. She had a nice moderate fish dish and Durell was pleased to find out that they served a decent hamburger. They talked about the normal stuff for a while, about their lives, about their loves and stuff they missed.

"So is there anyone special in your life now?" Katarina asked him.

"Not me," Durell said, "Nothing serious since Kara a couple years ago. Unfortunately, we never had a chance to get very far."

"What happened to her?" she asked.

"We were out shopping, had been back in the U.S. for barely two months," Durell said as he finished his dessert, "She had a slight headache, and I offered to take her home, but she wanted to go skating."

"You skate?" She asked him, "I'd have paid to see that."

"With my knees it's usually just slide around," he said with a grin, "I'm happy if I can stay on my feet."

"Figures," she said with a smile, "I smell another story there, but that can wait until you finish this one."

"Well, her headache got worse and she collapsed while on her skates. I took her straight to the hospital, and had her admitted. It turned out that she had a major brain aneurysm and that there was nothing anyone could do. She died about four hours after the doctors saw her."

"Oh god," Kat gasped, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing anyone could have done, kiddo," Durell told her, "Once an aneurysm gets to that point there is nothing anyone can do about it. She had been a ticking time bomb for months and we never knew it. Enough about her, anyway, is there anybody special for you."

"No," she said with a demur smile, "There hasn't been for a long time. The occasional boyfriend of two, but I tend to remain alone."

"Sounds a lot like me, as of late," he said with a nod, "I'm a chain smoker, have bad knees so can't dance, and have a job that takes me away for weeks at a time. Not exactly a prime catch for a single woman."

"At least you haven't lost your sense of humor," She said, "Something I've been missing for all these years."

"I've missed yours as well, Kat," Durell said wistfully, "Remembering the good times we had together got me through some tough times. I'm glad I made the call today."

"Me too," she said, "Otherwise it was going to be another night of sandwiches with my cat."

Durell chuckled at that one, "You and your cat, huh?"

"Of course," she said with a smile, "Sounds incredibly dull doesn't it?"

"Not at all," he said, "Sounds like how I spend my off nights."

At that, a couple of people pushed by him and Durell caught a nasty look from the waitress. They had been sitting there talking for over two hours.

"I think our waitress wants our table back, Kat," Durell told her.

"Nuts," she said, "I'm not ready to let you leave yet. How would you like to go to my place and continue this for a while?"

"Works for me," Durell said with a smile, "Let me get the check and we can go. Did you drive?"

Katarina shook her head, "I don't have a car. I took the bus over here."

"Ok," Durell said, "Then we'll call a taxi."

Durell paid the check and then hailed a cab outside of the restaurant.

## Chapter 18

It was snowing outside, as was the norm for Russia during this type of year. Nikolai Chernovin stood outside his office building, the headquarters of the Federal Security Bureau, an agency that mostly comprised what was left of the KGB after the massive downsizing enforced by Yeltzin after the final collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. He lit his large Russian cigar and entered the Zil limousine that pulled up a few minutes later.

He entered the vehicle and nodded a greeting to the older man sitting next to him. The older man grunted and instructed his driver to move away from the square and to drive around. Andrey Petrukin rarely made visits to Moscow nowadays, but he still had enough stature that Chernovin allowed him his luxuries.

"Goddamn Yeltzin," Petrukin grumbled as he looked out on the square, "The bastard has no respect for tradition."

"I know it," Chernovin said wistfully, "Where would we have been without Dzherinsky? Stalin and Lenin too for that matter. They were butchers, but at least they knew how to keep the country together."

"I know that you want the Soviet Union to return," Petrukin agreed, his old face cracking a small smile, "But first we must have a solid base to work from. Only then can we overpower the traitors in Red Square and get world socialism back on course."

Chernovin himself did not think that world socialism was ever going to happen, but it pleased Petrukin to wax political and he let him go on.

Petrukin was one of those who came up under Stalin's iron rule and grew to power during Khrushchev and Brezhnev's regimes. Chernovin was born in the late fifties and worked his way up through the ranks during the uncertain times of Andropov, Cherneko and Gorbachev. Politics meant little to him, but restoration of the old KGB and his own personal position meant that he would have to play the game.

"I talked to Timonchenko in Finland yesterday," Petrukin continued after he finished his political tirade, "It seems that Timonchenko has moved up the time table on his end. He expects to move on the Finnish government on the first of next month."

"So soon?" Chernovin asked, "I thought he was going to wait until the first of the year."

"He told me that there were some new factors that made it desirable to move quickly," Petrukin said, "If what he does works, then we'll have a base to move in from. We'll start operations from bases on the Finnish border as soon as Timonchenko has solidified the government under Arto Paasilinna."

"What do you think the chances really are of Timonchenko pulling this off?" Chernovin asked the old man, "I mean, toppling a government is tricky at the best of times, and these are not the best of times."

"We have nothing to lose, Nikolai," the old man replied, "Timonchenko has no ties with your agency anymore. If his plan fails, then he will be cut off. Plain and simple. He knows the risks and is taking them to ensure that the Soviet Union will return."

"What do you want me to do, then?" Chernovin asked, "I have control of the FSB, but Yeltzin and the Duma are always breathing down my back."

"Support Timonchenko as much as you can," Petrukin requested, "I know your directorate is downsized, but you still have resources and information that could be of use to him."

"I can't officially do this," Chernovin protested, "Yeltzin will have my head if he finds out."

"See that he doesn't find out," the old man told Chernovin, "I'll keep you informed as things move along."

"I'll see what I can do," Chernovin said resignedly, "We don't watch the Finns too close nowadays, but I'm sure we still have some operatives there under FSB control."

"Thank you, Nikolai," Petrukin nodded, "Maybe one day it will all be back to the way it was."

Chernovin somehow doubted that.

## Chapter 19

A.J. and Kat left the taxi just before ten in the evening. Her apartment was a small flat in eastern Helsinki. The building was small and dingy by American standards, but just about the run of the mill for Helsinki. They went up to the third floor and Kat worked the locks on the door. They went inside and Kat motioned him over to the couch.

"Times are tight, huh?" Durell asked as he saw how sparse the apartment was.

"I haven't had a job in a month or so," she said, "Stores aren't hiring models right now, and nobody seems to have a need for a secretary or anything like that."

Durell sat down on the couch and resisted the urge to light up another cigarette. She took the chair close by and smiled at him.

"Enough about my problems," she said with a smile, "How long are you going to be around here? Enough time for us to get to know each other again?"

"My guess is at least two months, more likely four to six," he told her, "In fact, that was one of my ulterior motives in calling you. And your situation makes my other motive more palatable."

She cocked her eyebrow and looked at him, "How so?"

"How would you like some work, Kat?" he asked her.

"Depends on what the pay is and what I'd have to do," she replied honestly.

"I don't know this country very well," he started in Finnish.

"You seem to know the language pretty well, though your accent shows severely," she interjected.

"That was the result of a month's immersion in the language in California," he informed her, "Two months ago I'd never spoken a word of Finnish."

She smiled at that, "I'm impressed. Do you do needlepoint too?"

He had to laugh at that, "No, no needlepoint. I can show you thirty ways to take down a terrorist, however."

"So what is it that you want me to do?" she asked seriously, "I could use the work as you can tell."

"I need someone to work with me, keep me from getting lost in this city, help me with my Finnish and stuff like that," he said, "Personal assistant job."

"Is this just because you feel sorry for me?" she asked him with a frown on her face.

"Not really," he told her, "I do need someone to do that here. It was one of the reasons I decided to call on you. I figured that if you couldn't do it, you might know someone trustworthy who could use a job."

"Is the pay good?" she asked.

"Yep," he said with a grin, "And the fringe benefits are even better."

She smiled and slipped over on the couch beside him. He smiled back and took in an older, more mature and even more beautiful version of the smile that had gotten him through so many nights when he was cold and hungry in Czechoslovakia.

"And what might those fringe benefits be?" she purred at him.

"Depends on what you want, Kat," he said to her softly.

"I think we could think of something," she said and snuggled up close to him.

He wrapped his arm around her and looked into her ice blue eyes, wondering how he'd been stupid enough not to ask her out despite the age differences back then.

"You know," she said as if she had read his mind, "I used to wish that you would show up and ask me out."

"Even back in high school?" he asked her.

"Especially back then," she affirmed, "I had a major crush on you for the longest time."

"I guess I had one on you too, but I was too old for you then," he admitted.

They looked into each other's eyes for a while, wondering if they were in fact seeing what they thought they were seeing. She smiled brightly for him, and Durell felt warmness in his heart that he had not felt in a long time. Durell was a solitary man by nature, and letting people in was not easy for him.

He continued to look into her eyes, and debated within himself on whether to reach down and kiss her. The age-old debate goes on when a man is in a position in which things could go farther with a woman than mere friendship. Should he demur and not take the plunge, lest the young lady think that sex is all he wants from her, or should he go for it and kiss her for all it's worth. All this ran through Durell's mind as he maintained eye lock with her ice blues.

Finally, he decided it was worth the risk and he leaned down and kissed her softly. He was pleasantly surprised when she started kissing him back. She pushed in closer to him and they kissed each other for a good long time.

Finally, they decided to go up for air. She smiled at him brightly and he could not help returning a smile of his own. Durell had not felt this good since Kara's death.

"I guess something good is coming out of this trip after all," he said to her.

They held each other for a while and just talked about idle nothings. Durell let the stress of travel and his daunting task just slide away while he was holding her. After a while, she got up and led him silently into the bedroom in the back. Durell, of course followed without any resistance.

They went into the bedroom and she led him over to the bed. He stopped to kiss her again, and held her close to him. They got closer to the bed and suddenly his left knee decided to make itself known. He accidentally bumped it against the side of the bed and promptly went out from under him.

"Goddamnit!" he yelled as he lost his balance.

Luckily for him, Kat had good reflexes and managed to keep him upright long enough to get him on the bed.

"Problem there, big guy?" she said with a smile.

"I told you my knees were bad, kiddo," he said with a grin.

They both had a good laugh over the situation and soon got back to what they had entered the room for in the first place. Durell's shirt was the first to go, and she got a mild surprise when she saw his back.

"My god, A.J.," she exclaimed as she ran her fingers over the scars on his back, "What has happened to you?"

"I got the experience for the job I do now the hard way, Kat," he said to her, "When I left the states, I ended up after a while in a freedom fighter's group in Czechoslovakia."

Her eyes misted as she continued to trace the scars on his back with her fingers and then with light kisses. He turned around to kiss her once more. She kissed him deeply and turned around to give him access to the zipper on the back of her dress. He lowered it slowly and took in the view as he did so.

It was well after midnight when they collapsed into each other's arms, gratefully and happily exhausted by their exertions. They held each other close and kissed softly until sleep took over their bodies.

It was well into the night when Durell's exhausted body finally allowed him to dream, and dream he did...

## Chapter 20

A.J. Durell slept peacefully until his mind started going back in time. This time he didn't regress back to Czechoslovakia, but only to Northern Ireland, where he did some of the work that got him out of the business in the first place.

A younger A.J. Durell stood outside of a small pub in Belfast, looking around nervously. He dragged heavily on a cigarette of a local brand. He was younger and thinner at that point in time, completely clean-shaven but with hair down to his shoulders. He was also dressed in clothing that enabled him to pass off for a local, drawing little attention as he leaned against the wall.

Three young women walked by, smiling at Durell as he stood there. Durell tipped his hat to them and smiled back.

"Good day, me ladies," Durell said to them in a near perfect Irish brogue.

They giggled and waved at him as they passed off into the darkness of the night.

Two young men approached Durell at that point, and the three of them entered the pub, taking a small table in the corner. Durell ordered them all pints and drank down with them.

"Well," he said continuing with the brogue, "Is everybody ready?"

"Aye, that I am," one of them said, "But will Sean go along with our plan?"

Sean O'Sullivan was the head of the local IRA cell. Durell had been trying to work himself in for a meeting with O'Sullivan for nearly four months. He was near the top of the British Government's list of criminals, having operated extensively in both Ireland and England proper.

Durell had fallen into the IRA set after being run out of Czechoslovakia. He had always been good at accents, and managed to get them to believe he was one of them. He also found out after a few weeks with them that they were totally insane. Durell himself had never been a terrorist. He believed he was doing the right thing in Czechoslovakia, but what the IRA punks liked to do was beyond him.

He had talked to the British Government officials soon after entering Ireland, and seeing a marvelous opportunity, they convinced Durell to stay with them and to hand over the worst of them over if the opportunity arose. He had already betrayed nearly a dozen of them at this point. Durell knew he was pushing his luck, but he knew from experience that O'Sullivan was worth the risk.

"I think Sean will like it," another one of Durell's companions said, "It's politically sound, and will be a nice little payback for last Saturday."

The third one shrugged. He did not care. He just wanted a little action that would make him look good to the ladies.

The three of them finished their pints and left the pub quickly. It was a shame in a way, Durell thought, these boys were not all bad, but their way of dealing with the problems in Ireland left a little bit to be desired. O'Sullivan was something else altogether. He had met O'Sullivan once already, but in a place where it would have compromised him to do anything.

Durell and the three punks walked out of the neighborhood and made their way to an old, run down house that had no neighbors close by. They all entered through a side door that looked like it had been kicked open. Durell hated meeting in places like this, but it was still a step up from the time he had spent in Czechoslovakia.

O'Sullivan was sitting in the remains of an old couch, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, reading a newspaper. He looked up as they entered the room and told them all to find a seat. O'Sullivan had been in the IRA for over thirty of his forty-six years, and he looked it. He was six foot two, had reddish brown hair and multiple battle scars. He had the look of a veteran all over him. That was one of the reasons the Brits wanted his ass so badly, he had killed more of their people than cancer.

"Who else is coming on this one, Sean?" the youngest man said.

O'Sullivan looked closely at Durell, as he did not know the man by anything more than the reputation that Durell had so carefully created over the previous months.

"How many men do you think we'll need?" he asked Durell.

"I think we can do it with just the four of us if we have to," he said with little hesitation, "Though having several more people would increase the odds of success. Especially if we could get a woman involved."

"Why the hell would we want a woman in this?" one of the others asked, "This is a man's job."

"Aye that it is!" agreed another one.

"What would you use the young lady for?" O'Sullivan asked Durell, though he did not seem to object the way the others did.

Durell knew a test when he saw it, "We use her for the forward positions, let the soldiers see her, maybe even have her flirt with them some to keep them off guard."

O'Sullivan nodded at Durell, giving the impression that he was pleased. Durell was not particularly pleased with any of this, but he had to play along in hopes of getting a chance to get out of Dodge with O'Sullivan's head. Durell had been under cover for way too long, and needed badly to get out. He knew that this could be his ticket.

"I have just the woman for the job," Sean said absently, "I'm sure that we can convince Katie to play the part. She loves jobs like this."

The protests to the idea ended with O'Sullivan's acceptance. The three younger men with them lavished Sean with a sort of hero worship that almost embarrassed Durell to watch. Durell was intrigued by the thought that the Katie that Sean had mentioned might be Kathryn Miller, another one of the IRA people that the Brits wanted. So much the better, Durell thought to himself.

"We'll go ahead with the plan tonight," O'Sullivan told all of them, "Give me a couple hours to get Katie and someone else. Then meet me over at the depot."

"Weapons, Sean?" one of the three asked him.

"There should be some AK-47's stashed over at Kevin's," Sean told them, "Go see him and tell him I sent you. I'm sure you can handle anything else on your own."

Durell nodded. He was still carrying the Makarov pistol he had carried in Czechoslovakia. He just hoped that the two remaining clips of ammunition he had for it were enough. Russian pistol ammunition was not something easily found here, although most of the weapons he had seen in his time in Ireland were Soviet made.

The three of them left Sean's hideout quickly and headed over to Kevin Mulcahy's house a couple miles away. They managed to make it there in about 30 minutes and went up to knock on the door.

"Who is it?" someone inside asked, "What do you want so late in the evening?"

"We need to speak to Kevin about some business," the leader of the three simpletons shouted through the door.

They were let in and after they told them that Sean had sent them for the weapons they were led down to the basement. Durell fired up a cigarette and watched as Kevin manhandled a few large crates aside, revealing a little door in the floor.

"The Automatic Kalashnikov 47 rifle," Kevin said as he pulled one out, "A gift from our Russian friends. How many do you need?"

They all looked to Durell who shrugged and said, "One for each of us and one for Sean. Probably should grab an extra one for anyone else he brings. Also need a good pistol for Katie."

"I only have two pistols," Kevin told them, "A Beretta 92 and a Makarov."

"I'll take both of them," Durell said, "How much ammunition do you have?"

"I only have three clips for the Makarov," Kevin told Durell, "But the Beretta takes standard 9mm parabellum, and I've got a case of that."

"Let me take a look at the Makarov," Durell told Kevin.

Kevin nodded and handed the Russian pistol over to Durell, who took a good look at it. It was a poor specimen of the pistol, as Durell's was in better condition. Durell frowned at it and handed it back to Mulcahy.

"I hope the Beretta is in better shape," he said.

Kevin nodded, "Much better. Want to take a look at it?"

Durell nodded and Kevin handed it to him. Durell worked the action, made sure that it was empty and dry fired it a few times at the dirt floor to get a feel for the trigger.

"How many clips do you have for this one?" Durell asked.

"How many do you need?" Kevin asked as he opened a box full of clips and ammunition.

Durell chuckled and decided that he was going to make a little switch.

"I'll take ten of them," he said to Kevin, "Also the three Makarov clips."

Durell looked at his companions, "You think Katie will need more than six clips?"

"She shouldn't," one of them replied, "If she does, it means that we'll all be dead."

"I'll take the Beretta myself then, and give Katie my Makarov and ammunition," Durell decided, "How much ammunition do you have for the AK's?"

"I can give you five clips for each," Kevin told him, "I'm sure that Sean can find some more if necessary."

They all nodded and Kevin handed out the weapons, which the put into duffel bags. Durell replaced his Makarov with the Beretta and they went out of Kevin's house quickly.

On the way out of the block they came upon a car that looked like it had been sitting there for a while. Durell looked in the window and saw that the owner had been foolish enough to leave the keys. He looked at his comrades and smiled as he hopped into the driver's seat.

"Shall we go in style, my friends?" Durell asked.

He then reached over and got the registration out of the glove compartment to see if it belonged to anyone he knew. It did not and he passed it around to the rest of them and they all shrugged it off. It was a car and they did not feel like walking around the city with bags of weapons.

Durell drove to a little area just outside of Belfast and they went and checked out the weapons. He fired several test shots from all the AK's and did some plinking with two full clips for the Beretta to get a feel for the thing. He was impressed. It was accurate, and did well for the 9mm parabellum. He still preferred the .45 ACP but had not been able to find one in Ireland.

Satisfied that the guns would operate the way he needed them to, they drove over to the Depot, where Sean and Katie were waiting for them. Kathryn Miller was about thirty years of age at this point, well known within the IRA and wanted by the British for everything from bombings to assassination. For all that, she was a pretty, young thing, standing about five foot three with fiery red hair and a figure that belonged in a men's magazine.

"Got everything?" Sean asked the four of them.

Durell nodded and handed over one of the duffel bags. He looked around the area, trying to get a fix for where they were. It looked like an old army depot that had been abandoned for years. O'Sullivan and Miller were sitting on a bench going through the bag of weapons.

The depot was far enough from other people that Durell figured it was probably the best chance he was going to get to catch O'Sullivan without actually having to go through with the terrorist operation. Durell reached into his bag and pulled out one of the AK's. He put a clip in and pulled the bolt back.

"Watch where you're aiming that thing, kid," O'Sullivan warned Durell, "You don't want to waste your ammunition."

Durell nodded at O'Sullivan and knocked the bag onto the ground, as if by accident. Two of the punks reached down to retrieve their weapons from it and Durell realized that this was probably the best chance he would have.

Sean O'Sullivan was too busy making eyes with Katie Miller to notice Durell release the safety on his rifle. Durell really wanted to bring O'Sullivan in alive, and knew it wasn't going to happen with the other three there. He just hoped that he could handle O'Sullivan and Miller.

While they were still bent down picking up the weapons Durell took aim and shot all three of them in the head, using no more than three shots each, getting O'Sullivan to react in a hurry and go for his rifle.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Sean," Durell said as he leveled his AK at O'Sullivan's head, "Now move your hands away from the weapon really slowly. You too Katie."

"You're going to burn for this," O'Sullivan said slowly, "You know that, don't you?"

"You first," Durell said coldly, "Get up and face the wall."

"You son of a bitch!" Miller screamed at him.

"Now that we've established that," Durell said calmly, "Will you please face the wall before you join your friends on the floor."

It was then that Miller made her fatal mistake. She launched herself at Durell. Durell was not expecting the assault and did not get a chance to aim his assault rifle at her as she hurtled towards him. She jumped all over him. Durell managed to keep the rifle in his grasp and pull the trigger, emptying the clip into Miller's stomach.

O'Sullivan took the opportunity to get up and try to get to his AK, which he had placed on the floor. Durell wasn't about to let him get away at this point and pushed Kathryn Miller's blood ridden body out of the way. He then tackled O'Sullivan as the terrorist got a hold of his rifle.

O'Sullivan was no stranger with hand-to-hand combat and was angry enough at Durell to forget about the assault rifle. He knocked Durell back against the wall and kicked him in the left knee. Durell grunted, but gave back as good as he got, smashing his fist into one of O'Sullivan's kidneys. O'Sullivan had experience on his side, but Durell had twenty years on him as well.

Durell got a few punches in on O'Sullivan, but still was hoping to stop him without killing him. Sean O'Sullivan had no such desires towards Durell. He threw a hard right at Durell's head that missed by bare inches as Durell ducked below it. Durell countered with a hard left to O'Sullivan's nose and managed to shatter it quite badly, breaking the man's concentration.

O'Sullivan rallied, however, and managed to throw a few hard punches into Durell's torso. For a man who was pushing fifty, O'Sullivan still had some good moves. Durell dropped to the floor and let off a kick to the front of O'Sullivan's right knee, managing to shatter it.

O'Sullivan screamed as he hit the floor. Durell pulled himself away from O'Sullivan and managed to pull the Beretta out of his pocket. O'Sullivan was not still for long, as he tried to make it to one of the fallen AK47's. Durell was faster with his weapon and put two shots into O'Sullivan's chest.

Durell stood up and looked at the carnage that he had caused. His left knee was throbbing, but that was the least of his problems now. He hurt all over and was sitting in a small building with five corpses. Not a good situation for him, being an American working for the British in the middle of hostile territory.

Durell sat down on a bench to think about what his next move would be. He decided that he needed to get the hell out of there. He put the gun in his pocket again and headed out the door, when suddenly from behind him two shots were fired, sending Durell careening back into the present.

## Chapter 21

Kat woke up around three in the morning to find Durell tossing and turning violently. She stroked his hair softly for a few minutes, as she saw that he was having a violent nightmare. After a few minutes he woke up screaming loudly.

"A.J.!" she exclaimed in an attempt to snap him out of it.

He snapped out of it as he remembered the shots that had slammed into his back so long ago in that building outside of Belfast. Kat held him tightly as he struggled to get a hold of himself.

"What was it?" She asked him when he stopped shaking a little, "A nightmare?"

He nodded slowly, "One I've had on and off for years. Reliving the events that got me those scars on my lower back."

He told her the story of his time in Ireland, explaining about O'Sullivan and the horrible things that he had to do. She listened intently, learning about the man she was holding in her arms.

"If you'd killed O'Sullivan, then who shot you?" she asked him at the end of the story.

"O'Sullivan did," he told her, "I'd been stupid and not checked to make sure he was dead. The other three were dead on impact, and Katie couldn't have lasted long. Half an AK clip in the stomach will pretty much make a hole large enough to stick your head through. Two 9mm parabellum slugs in the chest is usually fatal, but only if one of them hits the heart. He managed to take my Makarov from Katie's corpse and fire two shots at my back as I went out the door."

Kat paled at that and held on to him tightly, lightly running her fingers over the scars on Durell's back. She was a little scared of what he was capable of, but more sympathetic at what he had been through.

"What happened after that?" she asked him.

"I hit the ground," Durell said with a chuckle, "The Makarov makes a nasty hole."

"Well, you obviously survived it," she said.

"Yep," Durell nodded, "I lost a kidney and about three feet of intestine, but I survived. I managed to get myself up and check on O'Sullivan. He was dead by the time I got back in there, but I put another slug from my Beretta in his brain to make damn sure."

"Then what happened?" she asked him.

"I managed to get to one of the army barracks," he replied, "Coincidentally, the one that we were supposed to attack that night. They applied first aid and collected the bodies. It took me about six months to heal from that, all paid for by a grateful British government."

"I just have a hard time imagining you doing all this stuff, you know?" Kat said upon reflection.

"I was young and stupid," Durell acknowledged, "I don't regret what I did in Czechoslovakia, but I really regret getting involved in the IRA mess. It did get me out of that life, however."

"What did you do when you got out of the hospital?" she asked him, "Did you go back to doing the same stuff or what?"

"I went to London, actually," he said, "I'd helped run a few pirate transmitters when I was in Czechoslovakia, so I knew a bit about Radio equipment. I started working for one of the BBC stations in a job provided by the intelligence services who'd gotten me mixed up with the IRA to begin with. Spent the next three years or so doing that before my father got sick and I finally returned to the U.S."

"I've wanted to go back for a long time," she says, "I just can't seem to make much of a life here, you know?"

Durell nodded to her. He hoped that the revelation of his past would not scare her off as it had the last couple of women he had dated. Even Kara had had problems with it, but had overlooked them because she had known him for over two years when they started dating.

They just laid there in silence for a while, holding close as they were not interested in going back to sleep. Finally he looked up at her and asked what was on his mind.

"Are you upset because of what I told you?" he asked her softly.

She thought about it for a minute. She thought of the man she had spent the previous evening with and about the man that he had told her about in his stories. She took a close look at both what she knew and what he said. She looked down into his eyes and saw the same person she had known, and truthfully fallen in love with many years before.

"I don't like your past, A.J.," Katarina told him honestly, "But I don't think you are as bad as you sometimes think you are."

"Thank you, Kat," he said softly, "That does mean a lot to me."

She smiled and snuggled up close with him again. They managed to make it through the night without any more unpleasant dreams.

## Chapter 22

Timonchenko rubbed his eyes as he looked out at the morning light. The sun was over the horizon as he looked out the window of Petrukin's Imatra hut. Damn the old man and his Vodka, he thought as he tried to deal with the headache that ensued from imbibing a little too much.

He stood up, walked out to the door and looked outside. The snow blanketed the landscape and he saw some children playing outside. He rubbed his temples trying to clear his head from the alcohol and wondered why he was still plotting and planning for a country that had rejected him and his kind.

"Still have doubts, Shurik?" Andrey Petrukin asked Timonchenko.

"Of course I do, Andrushka," Timonchenko replied, "But I know what I must do, as do you old man."

The old Russian had a chuckle for that one. Petrukin had been in Finland for nearly twenty years working for the Soviet Union's interests. Like Timonchenko he had been downsized, as the current Russian government had little interest in keeping illegals like him in non-threatening countries like Finland.

"You drink too much, old man," Timonchenko chided Petrukin as the old man rubbed his temples.

"You cannot stay in this business unless you are either drunk or crazy, Shurik," The old man replied, "And from the looks of that bottle lying over there next to the couch, you drink as much as I do."

Timonchenko lit up a cigarette and looked out at the low sun. It was a day that it took a Russian to love, and love it he did. He was too young to remember when Finland had been part of Russia, but he knew his history better than most people. He hoped that Finland could become a part of a grand new socialist Russian state.

"You've been in this country longer than I have, Andrushka," Timonchenko said to him, "Do you think my plan will work?"

"I believe it is sound," Petrukin replied, "But it will take some luck and some risk."

"Risk is our business," Timonchenko said, "And the rest of it will come in time."

"I hope so," Petrukin said, "I just hope I have enough time to see it."

## Chapter 23

Durell and Kat showed up at the hotel at about eight in the morning, to be greeted by a surprised Teri. Teri was enjoying her morning cup of coffee in the dining room when a very tired looking Durell showed up with Katarina in tow.

"So where were you last night, A.J.?" Teri asked him with a smile.

"I was hanging out with Kat here," Durell said with a grin as he sat down, "Teri, I'd like you to meet a dear old friend of mine, Katarina Pekarininen. Kat, Teri is one of the best organizers in the business and also a good friend."

Teri and Katarina shook hands and got along rather well together quickly. Durell soon found himself left out of the conversation, as often happened to men when women started talking, and flagged down a waiter to bring him a large cup of coffee.

Mike and Tim, who were running late as always came down and joined them at the table. After all the pleasantries and introductions were taken care of, Durell took everyone's attention and spit out a plan of action. This taken care of, they set off to do the job they had been hired for.

Durell and company showed up at the defense ministry at about ten in the morning. Kat was acting as his personal assistant, and three of her friends had been brought in to translate for the members of the team who could not speak Finnish. A meeting with General Kahalainen happened quickly and ended with Durell being given access to all relevant areas.

He sent Mike and Tim to check out their troop barracks and to report to him on what they found, how the conditions are and what the morale was like.

He sent Teri to the police headquarters to get a handle on the civilian operations. The civilian police would necessarily be the first step in any response to a terrorist incident, as it was in the United States. The level of training there would decide how much he would have to do with the military and how much he'd have to devote to the civilian response time.

Durell himself went over the reports for the terrorist incidents over the previous year. He and Kat sat there reading for about twenty-four straight hours, with her translating whatever text he couldn't read. The immersion course was great for his ability to speak Finnish, but it didn't do a damn thing for his ability to read it.

Durell was appalled at the lackluster methods they had for responding to terrorist incidents. He decided the first order of business was to clean up the methods of response. He studied the reports for the rest of the day, and spent the night with Kat at the hotel.

One thing about Durell, when he starts working on a job, he starts working quickly. With Katarina translating where needed, he set out to work with Helsinki's response system. With the authority of General Kahalainen, he set up new methods of response for the police and the armed forces.

He saw that the American model was not going to work as well here, mainly because they did not have enough local police for it. Durell decided that he needed to work on the methods of response using the army instead of local police.

The first thing he did was set up parameters on what a major terrorist incident was, thanking the powers that be that Finland had no laws stating that the military couldn't be used for this purpose.

Durell spent the remainder of the week preparing things for a mock response incident, which he wanted to run on the following Thursday. Durell kept his staff busy with preparations. Katarina stayed by his side constantly, writing down what he said when he spat out orders. Teri fought (through her translator) with the military acquisitions people to get the special paint ammunition that they used in their stateside simulations.

Mike and Tim had the arduous task of setting up the simulation ground. They hired a whole slew of Kat's actress friends to play the parts of the innocents and began training them on what to do for the scenario. It was a simple job, but time consuming to do right.

## Chapter 24

Meanwhile, Timonchenko was busy with his rebel groups in preparation for the planned coup d'état on the first of the month. Crates of AK-47 rifles had been smuggled in from Russia to complement the supply of Valmet M-76 rifles that had already been pilfered from armories around the country.

Timonchenko's force was small, numbering barely three hundred people scattered into groups all over the country. Alas, he had been planning this for several years and knew that he was not going to do this with force alone.

After he made sure that the rebel commanders were doing what they were supposed to, he made a trip to Helsinki, which was a city in which he usually didn't go unless he had to.

For this trip Timonchenko had apparently changed his form. Gone were the usual semi-military clothes he usually wore with the rebel people. He was wearing a three-piece suit like any businessman walking out on the streets. His purpose went far beyond normal business, however.

Timonchenko was activating all the contacts that he had been working on for the past few years. He had gained quiet support for his movement in the current government circles, and was confident that his coup would be supported by many of them.

His plan was not exactly original. The same thing had been done in Petrograd (also known as St. Petersberg and later Leningrad) by Lenin's Bolsheviks during the October revolution in 1917. Timonchenko was just hoping that he could pull it off as well as Lenin did.

Chosen as the leader of the revolution was Arto Paasilinna, a rabid socialist businessman who had the respect of the public due to his service in the Second World War and in postwar politics.

Paasilinna had been thrown out of the government during the long presidency of Urho Kekkonen due to disputes over relations with the Soviet Union. Kekkonen pursued his policy of Finlandization, a strategy of laying low and keeping neutral relations with both the west and with the Kremlin. Paasilinna wanted more direct ties with the Soviets. Kekkonen and Paasilinna had remained enemies, even after Kekkonen's 1981 retirement and until the former president died in 1986.

Paasilinna's party had been pretty much annihilated since the fifties, but he still held valuable contacts that had let him make his business thrive and work behind the scenes in politics. His import/export business also served as an important front for smuggling weapons into Finland for the upcoming rebellion.

Though he was in his eighties, Paasilinna was considered the perfect choice to lead the communist forces in a takeover on Helsinki. Timonchenko was hoping that Paasilinna held enough respect with the armed forces to avert a civil war that would turn out bloody.

Paasilinna was also old enough that he wouldn't be around long enough to create a Stalinist cult of personality, something Timonchenko wanted to avoid.

Timonchenko looked around at the men in the large meeting hall. Most of them had been personally recruited by him over the previous four years. He smiled and raised his glass of vodka, and shouted out a single phrase.

"One Party, One land, One People, World Socialism! Now!"

This was met with thunderous applause. Even Paasilinna, the man who was about to be a leader again, raised his hand and joined the Russian in the toast. They all drank their vodka and another cheer erupted. Timonchenko let them go for a few minutes and then used his hands to quiet the crowd.

"Tonight we rest as subjects to the corrupt capitalist system," Timonchenko said, "Tomorrow we bring socialism to life!"

Again the people in the room cheered. Timonchenko then sat down and smiled. It was going to be a long few days, but the November revolution would be a glorious thing indeed.

# Book II Revolution

## Chapter 25

"Happy Halloween," Teri said to her boss, "These people really do want to work hard, don't they?"

"You wouldn't know that most of them are conscripts," Durell agreed as he lit another cigarette, "We've still got quite a bit of work ahead of us, though."

"I can't believe they were so clueless on this," Timmy said, "I mean most of this is basics."

"We are usually a peaceful people," Kat protested, "Guns are not common and crime is usually low. This rash of terrorism is a new thing."

"She's right," Durell nodded, "The only way to get this experience is to need it. You either get training from someone who knows..."

"Like you," Mike said, "Right?"

"Right," Durell nodded, "Or you learn the hard way, like the Israelis did."

"The Israelis?" Teri said, "They put up with more of it... Oh."

"It would be worse if they weren't as good as they are," Durell said, "Notice that nobody ever fucks with an Israeli airliner. You know why?"

"Because it's a sure way to end up dead?" Timmy asked needlessly, "I think I read about that somewhere."

"Dead as a doornail," Durell nodded, "The KGB had its share of good people, but the Mossad is one really deadly organization if you piss it off."

"It's a shame that we need this," Kat sighed, "It's good that you're able to help save lives, but sad that they have to learn it at all."

"That's what we do," Timmy said, "We get to be shot at with paint bullets and confuse the hell out of people."

"Interesting way to earn a living," Kat said, shaking her head, "Though I bet you make more in a single job than I made last year."

"Especially on this job," Teri chuckled, "How the hell did you pull that off?"

"Matti Roto pissed me off so I highballed him," Durell said, "I gave him a number high enough that I thought he'd tell me no and I could go home for a break."

"What does highballed mean?" Kat asked him, unfamiliar with that piece of English vernacular, "I don't know that one."

"It means he upped the price much higher than normal," Teri told her, "Enough that my jaw dropped when he told me."

"You think your jaw dropped?" Durell said, "Think how I felt when Roto said yes!"

"It's getting late," Teri said, sighing a little, "I need to sleep some."

"How about some Poker, Mike?" Timmy asked him, "You up for a game A.J.? Kat?"

"I'll pass," Kat said, "I should head home."

"Suit yourself," Mike shrugged, "How about we make it Gin if it is just the two of us?"

"Quarter a point?" Timmy asked as they walked out of the room, "See if your luck changes..."

A.J. Durell chuckled as his people left the room. Kat shook her head and smiled at him. He stood up and walked over to the bar and poured himself a small drink and held up the bottle for Kat.

"Would you like a nightcap?" he asked her, "I can't read the bottle, but it smells good."

"Sure," Kat said, smiling, "Has this week really been happening, A.J.?"

"It's more than I expected out of this job," Durell agreed, "I'd have almost done it for free had I known about this."

"Of course you would have," Kat chuckled as she took her drink, "So are you ready to sleep yet?"

"I don't know," Durell smiled, "Depends."

"Hmm," Kat said quietly, pushing back her black hair and sipping her drink, "On what?"

"On whether I have to do it alone or not," Durell chuckled, "I don't know if I've quite gotten over the jet lag yet, but you're welcome to stay if you want to."

"I'd love to," Kat smiled, her blue eyes shining, "I've enjoyed spending this time with you."

"Me too," Durell smiled, "I hope to get to spend more..."

"I think that can be arranged," Kat said, sliding into the chair on his lap, "If you don't think it will cause problems with your people..."

"They will be fine with it," Durell said, "Probably surprised that I'm showing this much humanity."

"You always did have a bit of the robot aura around you," Kat chuckled, "I always thought it was part of your charm."

"You're in the minority, I assure you," Durell said, "Kara was the only other one who was able to take my personality for very long."

"I'm surprised you didn't make a try for Teri," Kat giggled, "She seems to be your type too."

"We're better friends and coworkers," A.J. told her, "I met her about a month or two after Dad's company bit the dust. She had been a police officer that had been pushed out because she broke the code of silence. A lot of guts in her, she helped convince me to start the consulting business."

"I see," Kat nodded, "How about the other two?"

"Mike was a member of a swat team that was a bit burned out," Durell told her, "He just needed a new direction and an outlet for his adrenalin junkie ways. He's worked out really well."

"That leaves Tim," Kat said, "He looks to be the youngest."

"He is," Durell nodded, "He started out as a hacker, pulled off a couple of really ballsy electronic bank robberies, all before he turned eighteen. When they caught him he was offered a deal by the bank, restitution and teaching them how he did what he did. I got him soon after the feds let him go. He's been working for me ever since, getting in touch with his inner adrenalin junkie and doing bank security gigs when I'm not using him."

Kat nodded and finished her drink while she looked closely at Durell. She was not sure what she saw in him. Not having known him before she would certainly have overlooked him if she saw him in a bar, but there was a strength to him that just drew her. She laid her head against him and just felt safe with him, a feeling she hadn't had in her life in a long time.

"I feel safe here," Kat said to him, "Do I have to go?"

"Not unless you want to," A.J. told her, planting a light kiss on her forehead, "How about a night of just lying here and relaxing?"

"I'd like nothing better," Kat smiled, "Come on, let me help you over there..."

"I'm not an invalid yet," A.J. grinned, "At least not all the time."

## Chapter 26

"Aleksandr," Petrukin said, "You are still planning on taking Durell first, aren't you?"

"He needs to be neutralized quickly," Timonchenko told his mentor, "I still have the scars from when I didn't take him seriously."

Andrey Petrukin took note of the way Aleksandr Timonchenko rubbed his stomach when he talked about Durell. He knew that Timonchenko was a professional, but even professionals needed a little bit of guidance in how to curb their emotions, especially when it came to that type of hatred.

"I can agree with your reasoning," Petrukin nodded, "But you need to stay with Paasilinna through those first hours. I don't know how much we can trust him yet. You'll need to be there to remind him who he owes his newfound power to."

"You don't think I'll be able to control myself," Timonchenko said, "I've worked hard, why should I not get something I've wanted for years?"

"Durell is old news," Petrukin said, "He hasn't been active for years and he's merely a trainer now."

"That man isn't merely anything," Timonchenko said, "That son of a bitch dispatched more of my agents than anyone else I've ever dealt with in my life. This was before he was twenty-five years of age. Don't tell me he's just a fucking trainer!"

"I'm not suggesting you leave Durell free," Petrukin said, deciding to placate his man, "I'm just suggesting you let someone else do it. We want him alive anyway."

"Why would we want him alive?" Timonchenko asked, "That doesn't make sense!"

"Chernovin could use a boost back in the motherland," Petrukin explained, "Durell still has a dozen murder charges dating back to the Soviet regime. Getting him back for trial will make him look good and get us much needed weapons and intelligence."

"Keeping that man alive is dangerous," Timonchenko warned, "He escaped several prisons."

"He was years younger then!" Petrukin exclaimed, "I've seen his file. He's been injured several times and nearly killed by an IRA strongman in Ireland back in 1988 He hasn't been in the game since. He's not the threat he once was."

"Men like him stop being dangerous only when they're dead," Timonchenko told him, "You know that as well as I do! You saw the papers. He stopped a robbery while unarmed."

"You are still needed elsewhere, Shurik," Petrukin told him, "You're the best man to stay with Paasilinna. You've done this sort of thing before, no one else we have has. We need you there, not off chasing a broken down relic of the cold war."

"I want Russians doing this, not the Finns," Timonchenko said, "The two best men we can spare, backed up by a half dozen Finns."

"We've got a team going in to get the dignitaries staying at that hotel," Petrukin told him, "Have them pick up Durell and his team first. Take them to the Helsinki Police Headquarters, where you can check on them later."

"They had better not screw it up," Timonchenko said, "But I'll go along with it for now."

"That's all I ask, Shurik," Petrukin smiled, "You've got a long drive ahead of you. You'd best get moving."

"It's time," Timonchenko nodded, "We are outlaws now, Andruska. Tomorrow we will have a country again."

"Soon, Shurik," Petrukin agreed, gripping his hand, "Very soon."

## Chapter 27

It was just after four in the morning when Timonchenko's designated henchmen showed up at Durell's hotel. The main group of Finnish rebels went to secure the other dignitaries, but the two Russians headed straight to Durell's suite. They checked their weapons like the professionals they were.

"This sounds like overkill," Ignatev said, "All of us for one guy?"

"Timonchenko is a pro," Filatov shrugged, "If he's worried about this man..."

"True," Ingatev nodded, "How do we do this?"

"Quick and dirty," Filatov told him, "We go in, get him and get him out of there."

"And hope that our people have the police station," Ignatev grunted, "This is insane."

"Beats sitting around Leningrad waiting for pensions that may or may not come," Filatov grinned, "Let's go."

Ignatev shook his head and readied his weapon. He nodded at his partner and aimed at the door while Filatov took a kick at it, shattering it off the hinges. Ignatev went in quickly, scanning the dark room for figures, seeing only the two people on the bed. Filatov righted his weapon and backed up his partner.

A.J. Durell knew what it was as soon as the kick landed on the door. He rolled over and went to where he used to keep a spare weapon, but being in a foreign nation he had not troubled himself to get one yet. Kat, not being as accustomed to this as Durell was, woke up a few seconds too slow, but started screaming as soon as she realized what was going on.

"Make another move and you die," Ignatev said in Russian, "Hands where I can see them."

Durell growled, but knew that the men had the drop on him. He knew that resisting at this point would get him killed quickly. One of the first things he taught was that it was better to live and escape later than to die like a hero. He raised his hands in a sign of surrender while Filatov turned on the lights.

Kat looked in horror at the two men and then turned towards Durell. A.J. gave her a quick nod and a look that he hoped she'd realize meant shut up and play along. Luckily for the both of them she was too scared to do anything, let alone talk.

"Who is the girl, Durell?" Ignatev asked him, his hands not wavering with the gun.

"She's a local whore," Durell said in fluent Russian, "I am here working for the government. You think you can do this without them finding out?"

"The government you worked for is falling as we speak," Ignatev said, "Turn around, slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them."

Durell followed his instructions and turned towards Kat, who was still scared to the point of inertia. He looked at her and winked quickly, mouthing the words 'Follow my lead' so she would know not to give anything away. She nodded a little, but was still too scared to do anything.

"What do we do with the girl?" Filatov asked Ignatev, "No one said anything about another one?"

"She's a whore," Ignatev shrugged, "Leave her and warn her to keep quiet."

"I don't speak Finn," Filatov said, "You don't either."

"Wrap him up and make him do it," Ignatev suggested, gesturing at Durell.

Durell inwardly flinched a little as he heard some shots go off and some other screams. He had a feeling that his team was getting the same treatment he was. He just hoped that they would remember the training he had given them before their first foreign trip.

"Warn her that she should forget what she saw," Filatov ordered Durell, "Do it quickly!"

"Play along," Durell said in Finnish, "They think you are a whore. Get out of here and go home before they realize otherwise."

"No," Kat said, looking in horror, "But..."

"Do it!" Durell said, "No sense getting you killed too!"

Kat looked at the hard expression in Durell's eyes. She didn't want to leave him like that, but knew that he was right. She grabbed her jacket and ran out of the room, leaving Durell there with two men holding weapons on him. Durell breathed a sigh of relief when she left the room.

"Bind him," Ignatev told Filatov, "I've got him covered."

Filatov nodded and went around, binding Durell's arms with a plastic cord. Durell knew they were professionals from the way that they did it quickly. This was a good thing, because it meant that he was much more likely to survive for a while. If they had wanted him dead they would have shot him and left the corpse.

"Move it," Filatov instructed Durell, "We've got to get you to the police station. Try anything and you will be splatter."

"Anything you say," Durell muttered in Russian as they led him out of the room, "I'm not arguing with you as long as you have that gun."

The Russians said nothing else as they led him out of the room. Durell went quietly, looking at the chaos that was going on around him. He looked around at the people that were being herded out of the building into trucks and knew that something nasty was going on. He did not know what it meant, but with his background he knew it would not be good.

## Chapter 28

The attack began swiftly at dawn. Timonchenko's people took down the guards outside of the presidential palace. They were better trained than the local people that had been recruited by Arto Paasilinna's group, so Timonchenko had them doing the initial run, letting the Finns follow them in and wipe up the rear.

Timonchenko and Paasilinna followed the attackers into the presidential palace and waited for them to clear the guards. Timonchenko's adrenalin was flowing and he felt good. He just hoped that the rest of the people were doing as well as the palace people were.

"I haven't been here in over forty years," Paasilinna said, "Not since Paasikivi held the presidency before that son of a bitch Kekkonen weaseled in."

"Welcome back," Timonchenko said dryly, "Let's find Kitinoja, shall we?"

Paasilinna nodded and followed Timonchenko to the main part of the presidential palace. The invasion was less than an hour old and the gunfire was dying down as resistance fell apart. Timonchenko and Paasilinna went to the living quarters where some of the Russians had taken the President and his wife into custody.

"We have President Kitinoja, sir," one of the Russians said, "We're clearing the perimeter now."

"Very well," Timonchenko nodded, "I'll handle the President. Make sure they don't have backup coming in."

"Who are you?" President Kitinoja asked, "What do you think you are doing?"

"We are the men who are going to replace you," Paasilinna told him, "Your services are no longer needed here."

"I am the elected leader of the Finnish people!" Mikko Kitinoja protested, "You can't get away with this!"

"Kekkonen did," Paasilinna said, "Now it is time to do it right."

Timonchenko watched the exchange, content to let the two men talk. The more time they wasted in this way the more time his soldiers would have to clear the perimeter of the Presidential Palace. He figured it was more entertaining than the local television was.

"Do it right?" Kitinoja said, "What are you talking about, Paasilinna? You have really lost it this time, old man. You are working with the Russians now?"

"They did it right," Paasilinna shrugged, pulling his weapon, "Men like you, Koivisto, Kekkonen and the rest... You are the ones who have made this country the economic hell hole it is!"

"I've got to laugh at that," Kitinoja said, shaking his head, "Your Russian friends have ground more economies into the ground than any nation I know."

"Just like your European Union is doing to this nation now," Paasilinna said, "One of the first things I intend to do is withdraw from that horrid union."

"Just watch the west pull the rug out from under you, old man," Kitinoja said, "We have a just peace now, and you're throwing it away. For what? Because you feel you were wronged by a president who has been dead for almost a decade? What a sad old man you are."

Paasilinna looked very much as if he was considering shooting the younger president. Timonchenko watched and wondered if the old man had the balls to do it, though he knew it would not be a good way to start the new government. He decided that he needed to step in and stop this course.

"Relax, Arto," Timonchenko said, "We need him alive for now. We can shoot him later after a trial."

"Of course," Paasilinna nodded, regaining his composure a little and smiling, "Very well. It looks like we are winning."

"You know what needs to be done," Timonchenko reminded him, "I'm going to go check on the Police Barracks. Get everyone organized here for the work to come."

"I'm on it," Paasilinna nodded, "I'll keep him here, he'll be a great shield. Thanks, Aleksandr."

"My pleasure, President Paasilinna," Timonchenko smiled, "Get word to me if you need any more people."

## Chapter 29

A.J. Durell groaned as he tried to right himself. Ignatev and Filatov had tossed him roughly into the cell without unbinding his arms. The result of that and his bad knees was ending up in a rather uncomfortable position on the single bunk in the old concrete cell.

"Nice mess you've gotten yourself into this time, Durell," he mumbled to himself, almost managing to sound like Oliver Hardy in the process, "Go to Finland, train a few soldiers, make a few million... Sounds almost comical now."

With a bit of effort he managed to get himself upright so he could better get a handle of his surroundings. It was not the worst cell he had ever been in, as this one was actually rather clean. He heard shots going off at random intervals, so he figured that there really was a revolution going on. He stood up and tried to look out of the cell, but could not see much.

"Great," Durell sighed, "A new revolution and I'm stuck in a jail cell. Got to love that."

Durell spent the next few hours moving around the cell and taking inventory of what was there. Every once in a while a few harried officers would pass, but none of them paid him any mind. If there was indeed a revolution going on he knew that even the ones on his side would have more to deal with than him.

Eventually he sat on the bunk and started working at his hands. The plastic binding was tough, but given time it could be worn down. There was little he had more of than time in this particular situation.

It was nearly noontime before anyone came to his cell, by which point Durell was reclining on the bunk clearing his mind and resting. Aleksandr Timonchenko walked up to the cell and tapped on the bars as he looked at his old nemesis.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here, Timonchenko?" Durell asked him in Russian as he sat up, "I take it you are behind this so-called revolution."

"It's a very real one, Durell," Timonchenko said, "You don't know how much it pleases me to see you like this."

"You got lucky in Czechoslovakia," Durell said, smiling a little, "I should have killed you then."

"You tried," Timonchenko shrugged, "You failed."

"I won in the end," Durell said, "The Soviet Union no longer controls anything. The Russians can barely wipe their own asses now."

"A minor setback, that's all," Timonchenko said, "The best days are yet to come, I promise you."

"So that's why you're pushing unrest in a small Scandinavian country?" Durell said, shaking his head, "Your ego is as big as your sense of grandeur, Timonchenko."

"Thank you," Timonchenko chuckled, "You always were good for a bit of amusement, Durell."

"Since you are here I can guess why I was picked up," Durell said, knowing that Timonchenko wouldn't have launched anything with him running loose, "Now the question is, what do you plan on doing with me?"

"The KGB may now be called the FSB," Timonchenko told him, "But they still have a long memory. You did kill over a dozen of my agents back then."

"You plan on extraditing me," Durell laughed, "You do realize I'm here at the behest of the American Government? They won't take well to me being taken illegally."

"The crimes were committed against Russians," Timonchenko smiled, "You are not going to be accredited by the new government, which leaves you open to extradition."

"Nice," Durell said, "Send me to Russia to be shot, huh?"

"Much as I'd like to do it myself," Timonchenko shrugged, "You are more valuable to me in trade to the FSB."

"So how long do I stay here?" Durell asked him, "And when do I get out of these binds?"

"We've got a bit of work to do," Timonchenko said, "And I think you can stay bound for now, thank you. I will check on you later, Durell."

"I'll be looking forward to it," Durell said sarcastically, "So when is lunchtime?"

"I'm sure they'll feed you in Russia tomorrow before they shoot you," Timonchenko said, "Good day, Durell."

"Great," Durell grumbled, "I'll be here."

"Of that," Timonchenko said as he left, "I have no doubt!"

## Chapter 30

Katarina Pekarininen walked down one of the main shopping strips in downtown Helsinki and watched the people running all over the place. The looting was beginning as the news of the revolution came out. Tensions had been at a flare pitch for a long time. This was the excuse people needed to let loose.

She was still tearing up because of what had happened before. They had only been together again for part of a week, but she knew that she had been happier than she had been for a long time. It was not even the job. It was the companionship and the relationship that was just starting.

She walked through the throngs of looters, watching them wordlessly as she tried to figure out what to do next. Durell's entire team was locked up now, as she had seen Teri being dragged out kicking and screaming from the hotel. She sighed as she watched a group of young people break into a store.

"What do I do now?" Kat asked herself, "I... I can't..."

She then dodged a thrown transistor radio and started running down the street. Chaos was ruling the way and she could not take it anymore. She started running towards her apartment and looked for a way out of the area. The pressure was enormous and she just wanted to go home.

"She looks like fun," one man said, looking at Kat, "Let's take her! The police won't find us!"

Kat took one look at the man and remembered a piece of Durell's advice, one he had given her when she was worried about being attacked while in high school. She turned around, faced the leader of the group, and let off a very evil looking smile.

"I don't think so," Kat said and let off a full force forward kick at the leader's balls, "I don't think you'll be doing that anytime soon."

The man's friends ran like hell while he crumbled to the ground. Kat turned and ran in the opposite direction, heading towards the part of town where her apartment was. She was in good shape, so she was able to sprint most of the way, finally slowing down and letting fatigue catch her.

She lived in a lower rent part of Helsinki, unfortunately, and in an area that had more than its fair share of unemployed individuals, many of whom had joined in the unrest. When she got back to her apartment complex the only thing she saw were fire trucks and flames.

"Paska!" Kat spat, swearing in her native tongue, "Get my new boss taken by thugs, nearly get raped, and now my apartment is burning down! Voi Vittu!"

Katarina decided at that moment that she had had enough. She looked around and found a car nearby that someone had been pulled out of. She stepped around the people who were beating on the driver and slipped into the driver's seat. She had not driven in several years, but she remembered enough to slip the car into drive and pulled it away.

She looked around at where she was and headed back towards the hotel. Durell was not perfect and she did not know what he had done in the past, but she knew how she felt about him and that meant more to her than anything at that point in time.

## Chapter 31

Kat parked the stolen car and wiped down the steering wheel with her sleeve. The clerks at the Radisson had overheard that the dignitaries were being carted over to the police barracks, as that had supposedly already fallen to the rebellion. She found that that was not quite the case as there was still some fighting going on in the large building.

She had been there once before to bail out a friend who had been arrested while drunk. The building, like most government facilities, had not changed much in the interim. Since there was fighting going on in the building the front desk was not being manned.

She walked in to the building, shaking a little but determined to see if she could find him. The main entrance to the jail area was still locked. She looked around for a few moments and then went over behind the counter, finding a set of keys. Smiling just a little she went to the locked door and tried keys, finally getting it on the third one.

While she walked she fully expected to be caught and held to task for what she was doing, but she kept going because she knew she had little else to lose. A few people finally passed her, but they were running off to do something else and surprisingly took no notice of her as she continued towards the cellblock.

"Calm down, Pekarininen," she told herself, "He wasn't legally arrested. You can't be busted for releasing him."

Kat continued down the hallway and hit the first jail checkpoint. This one, however was already unlocked, so she slipped in and went towards the actual cells and started looking for anyone she recognized.

It was late in the afternoon and Durell's stomach was grumbling as he sat on the bunk. He hadn't eaten since the night before and it was annoying him. The only comfortable way to sit with his hands bound was with his back to the cell door, so he only heard Kat approach the cell instead of seeing her.

"Come back to taunt me some more, Timonchenko?" Durell asked in Russian, "Well come back with a hamburger if you want me to talk to you, asshole."

"What are you talking about?" Kat asked him, "Are you all right, A.J.?"

"Kat?" Durell said, managing to right himself, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Trying to find you," Kat said, "Are you all right?"

"Hungry and my hands are numb," Durell told her, "Have you seen any of the others?"

"You're the only one I've found," Kat said, "I couldn't leave you to rot."

"You are taking one hell of a risk coming here," he told her, "If Timonchenko finds out I care about you he'll lock you up sure as hell. That's why I fed that story to his goons to get you out."

"I tried to go home," Kat explained, "There's rioting on the streets and my apartment building is on fire. I don't have anything to go back to."

"You may have left the fire to get into the frying pan, Kat," A.J. said, "But you're here, so we might as well leave together. Do you have keys to the cell?"

"I have a set of keys I found upstairs," Kat said, "I don't know if they open the cells or not."

"Give it a try," Durell said, "We have little to lose."

Kat tried all the keys on the chain, but none of them opened the lock. Kat looked at Durell and sighed, shrugging her arms. She did not know what to do, but Durell did not look particularly worried. He had a bit of hope now, something he did not have before she showed up for him.

"Ok," Durell said, "Don't worry. Do you have a knife or something?"

"Yep," Kat nodded, "It is only a penknife though."

"That's enough to cut me loose," Durell said and backed up to the cell door, "Try to take as little skin as you can manage, ok?"

Kat nodded and quickly cut through the bonds. He smiled at her and took her hand through the bars. It meant a lot that she came back for him. She took the hand and smiled back, but she didn't know what to do next.

"Your hands are free," Kat said, "What do we do now?"

"Go look for paperclips," Durell instructed her, "I'll see what I can find in here."

"I'll be back," Kat said, "Wait for me?"

"You think I'm going somewhere?" Durell asked her, "Go on, be careful and leave me that pen knife!"

Kat nodded, tossed him the knife, and left to go find what Durell had requested. Durell left the doorway and went over to the bunk, flipping it over. He hoped that the Finns hadn't retrofitted this cell with newer mattresses that didn't have metal springs. He cut the mattress open and pulled out two springs which he started bending into the shape he needed.

"The offices are filled with a bunch of guys," Kat said, "They didn't look friendly."

"It's ok," Durell said, "Keep an eye out. I think I can do it with these. Let me know if anyone is coming."

"Ok," Kat nodded, "Hurry up."

Durell cursed himself for not keeping up on his skill with locks up to par. At one point he could have handled a lock this simple in under two minutes. With his fumbling it took him nearly five to get it undone.

"What now?" Kat asked him, more than happy to allow him lead, "Do we leave now?"

"We have to find the others first," Durell said, "I take it that if you knew to find me here you went to the Hotel and found them not there."

"All of you were taken," Kat said, "I got lucky and found you first."

"That goes both ways, hon," Durell said, "Come on, they can't be far away."

A.J. and Kat walked towards the actual wing. Filatov was coming down the hall at the same time, but didn't recognize Durell until it was too late. Durell went towards him and clotheslined him, pulling the weapon out of Filatov's holster and jamming it into his gut. Kat turned her head as this was a side of Durell that she really didn't care to get to know that well.

"Where is the rest of my team?" Durell asked him in Russian, "And where is Timonchenko!"

"Fuck your mother!" Filatov hissed, getting a sharp jab, "You won't make it out of the building."

"With all this confusion they won't miss me," Durell told him and moved the gun to Filatov's crotch, "Now answer my question before you become a soprano."

"I don't know where Timonchenko is," Filatov said honestly, "He isn't here."

"Fine," Durell said, "The rest of my team!"

"The Finns handled them," Filatov said, almost spitting at Durell, "I don't know where they are."

"Timonchenko wouldn't have trusted the Finns with anyone related to me," Durell said, catching Filatov's lie and pushing harder, "Now where are they!"

"In this building," Filatov said, groaning a little, "Probably in the conference rooms they are putting the diplomats in. Timonchenko compartmentalized the operation."

Durell nodded, as this actually made sense. Timonchenko was famous for having one hand not know what the other was doing. It was what made him such a pain in the ass to go against back during their days in Czechoslovakia. Kat looked at them and looked to make sure no one else was coming.

"Where are the conference rooms?" Durell asked him.

"Second floor," Filatov said, not seeing the point of defying him now, "Go ahead, get it over with. Shoot me you asshole."

"You're not worth the noise," Durell said, pounding on the back of Filatov's skull with the butt of the gun, "We need to find the second floor, Kat. I can't read the damned signs yet."

"We're in the basement," Kat said, "Best to go back the way we came."

Durell nodded and searched Filatov, taking a number of things from his pockets, namely a cellular phone, two additional clips for the Makarov pistol. Durell hoped for a pack of cigarettes as well, but Timonchenko's people were too disciplined to use them while working.

"Anything good?" Kat asked him, "You were checking him thoroughly."

"Hoping for cigarettes," Durell chuckled, "I'll settle for getting my people and getting out."

"How do you do that?" Kat asked him.

"Do what?" Durell asked her, "Crave cigarettes in an emergency?"

"Go from a cold, serious man to a humorous one," Kat said, "In a matter of seconds."

"It becomes a way of life," Durell told her, touching her shoulder, "I can be cold when I have to be. If we don't get out of here soon you're going to have to see me become what I thought I left behind in Belfast in 1988. Come on. Lead the way. I don't remember being brought in."

"This way," Kat told him, smiling at his touch, "I think I saw signs for the second floor stairwell."

"I'm following you," Durell said, checking his weapon, "Let's go get them."

## Chapter 32

Satisfied at the way the progress was going at the Presidential Palace and the local Police Barracks, Aleksandr Timonchenko decided to check on the group of Finns that had taken over the Parliament House, home of the unicameral legislative body that had existed since the Russians had formed it in 1906.

"Have you arrested all of them?" Timonchenko asked, "We need to have them all locked up."

"Most of them," Ignatev told him, "We're still missing a few, but there aren't enough for a quorum on the loose. We'll have them rounded up within hours, most likely."

"Good," Timonchenko nodded, "Have you gotten any reports from Filatov at the police station?"

"Not lately," Ignatev said, "We've been busy here. The records alone are taking a while."

"I'll contact him," Timonchenko said, "Get things cracking here."

"Yes sir!" Ignatev acknowledged, saluting before leaving Timonchenko, "Call if you need me."

Timonchenko grunted and dialed a number on the cellular phone. The Cellular units were a godsend for this type of operation, allowing clear communication that they would actually have to have your numbers to trace. He dialed the one that Filatov was supposed to be carrying.

Durell was surprised when the phone started ringing. He looked at it and then looked at Kat. He decided to answer it and see who it was, though he knew it probably had to be Timonchenko. He decided to answer it accordingly.

"Da," Durell said, his Russian accent perfect, "Timonchenko?"

"Who is this?" Timonchenko asked, "Where is Filatov?"

"I'm crushed," Durell said in Russian, "You do not recognize my voice by now?"

"Durell!" Timonchenko exclaimed, "What the hell..."

"Don't push me," Durell said, "Right now this isn't my fight. If you choose to make it so then I assure you that this time I will not miss."

"Miss this!" Timonchenko yelled, throwing the phone across the room, "Ignatev!"

"What?" Ignatev said, "What happened."

"Durell has escaped," Timonchenko told him, "He has Filatov's phone, so I assume he is dead. Get a group together and find him."

"But the work here?" Ignatev said, "I'm just getting started..."

"Let the Finns do it," Timonchenko said, his voice calm and even, but his eyes flaring, "I trust them to do that. I do not trust them for this!"

"I'm going," Ignatev nodded, "I'll get him."

"Find out how he got out as well," Timonchenko ordered his henchman, "If the Finns let him out, shoot whoever was responsible."

Ignatev said nothing, merely nodded and left Timonchenko alone in the Parliamentary House seething in his anger. It was something the former KGB agent did exceedingly well these days.

## Chapter 33

"Why did you do that?" Kat asked A.J., "Now he knows you are out."

"He would have found out soon enough anyway," Durell shrugged, "At least this way he gets rattled a little. Still, we'd best get the others and get out of here."

"That sign says conference rooms," Kat said, "That is what he said, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Durell nodded, "Let's go."

They approached the area and heard some screaming. Evidently people were being tortured by the harbingers of the new regime. Durell got angrier at that point, as he had fought against these barbarians once before. It was not until he heard a female scream, however, that he got worried about his own people.

"Kat," Durell said softly, "Stay back until I yell for you. If I yell in Finnish, come in. If I yell in English, get the hell out and do not look back. Got it?"

"I'm not leaving you," Kat said, "I can't."

"If I yell in English it means that I'm in no shape to save," Durell promised her, "I want you to survive this, Kat."

"All right," Kat nodded, "I'm no hero."

"You already are one," Durell assured her, "I'd still be in that cell if you hadn't cut these bonds. Now stay back and let me go in."

Kat nodded and dropped back a bit. Durell took the safety off his weapon and went over to the door where the screaming was coming from. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. What he saw in there was something that he just couldn't abide by. Teri was spread out over the table, her clothing ripped off and one of the two men in the room was violently raping her.

"What the hell?" one of the men asked in Finnish, "Who are you?"

"The end of your life," Durell said coldly as he pulled the trigger, removing the head of the one who had been raping Teri.

"Shit!" the other one yelled as he went for his weapon.

Durell fired a second shot, but this one was non-fatal, catching the would-be rapist in the shoulder. He moved quickly over to the man and pushed him against the wall, his left hand gripping the wound and applying painful pressure as he rammed his pistol into the Finn's balls.

"I have very little reason to let you live," Durell told him in his accented Finnish, "Where is the rest of my team?"

"I don't know," the Finn pleased, "Please don't kill me..."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Durell growled, pulling the trigger, "I'd rather you live as a Eunuch."

The Finn screamed as he hit the ground. Durell went right over to Teri and released the bonds on her hands, bonds much like he had been wearing before Kat had come to get him. She was black and blue all over and had been seriously crying.

"A.J.," Teri mumbled, "Thank god..."

"God had nothing to do with it," Durell said and then switched to Finnish, "Kat get in here!"

Kat hurried in and gasped when she saw the condition Teri was in. She went over and helped steady her. Teri was still crying, but was strong enough to know that Durell needed her at least somewhat sane.

"I'm sorry Teri," Durell said, "We'll get you out of here. The two that did it won't do it to anyone else."

"Thank you," Teri nodded, "Timmy... He fought and... oh god..."

"What about Mike?" Durell asked her, inferring that Timmy was dead, "Did he get caught?"

"Yes," Teri told him as Durell wiped her tears, "We were separated when I was brought in here."

"Ok," Durell nodded and then scooped up the weapons from the floor, "Kat, do you know how to fire one of these?"

"Prepare it for me," Kat said, "I'll figure it out from there."

Durell nodded and cocked the weapon, handing it to Kat. He handed the other one in safety mode to Teri, who held on to it but was not quite there enough to do anything other than that.

"Kat," Durell said, "Can you help Teri while I try to find Mike?"

"I've got her," Kat said, "Find him and let's get out of here!"

Durell nodded and moved towards the door. His knees were hurting, but he ignored the pain because he had something more important to do. He checked the next two rooms and found nothing. Teri and Kat followed behind, with Kat supporting most of the weight. It was in the fourth room that he found what he was afraid of.

"Oh shit," Durell yelped, "Mike!"

"A.J.?" Mike said, though he was not able to look at his boss, "That you?"

"It's me," Durell sighed, "What did they do to you?"

Mike McGrath was covered with blood and his body had obviously been badly beaten. Durell did not know what they had been hoping to get out of his team, but it was obvious that someone was trying to get something. He looked at the young man and sighed.

"I lost track hours ago," Mike said, "Timmy got lucky. They shot him back at the hotel."

"Can you move?" Durell asked him, though he doubted it, "We need to get out of here."

"They broke my back in the last session," Mike said, "I can't feel anything below my neck."

"Shit," Durell sighed, "All right, I guess I'm going to have to..."

"Don't drag me around," Mike said, coughing a little, "I don't want to live like this."

"I can't leave you to their mercy," Durell said, "Not while I escape."

"I'm dead already, A.J.," Mike told him, "End it right."

"I can't," Durell said, a tear actually forming on the big man's eye, "I mean..."

"Pull the trigger, A.J.," Mike pleaded, "End it before they come back."

"All right," Durell said, pulling his weapon, "I'm sorry, Mike."

"Get Teri out," Mike said, "And tell her that I'll be thinking of her..."

Mike McGrath started gurgling. Durell recognized this, as he had seen it before with friends who had been injured in fighting during his time in Czechoslovakia. Mike was really on his last breaths, but a medic could have brought him back, if only to torture him some more. Mike's eyes pleaded for release and Durell knew he could not leave a friend like this.

"I'm sorry, Mike," Durell said as he put his pistol in McGrath's mouth, "Go in peace, my friend."

Durell pulled the trigger and ended Michael McGrath's life. He sighed and vowed silently to make Timonchenko pay for this. He closed Mike's eyes and walked out to where Kat and Teri were looking in horror at him. Neither one was expecting what had happened.

"You..." Kat said, "Shot him?"

"They'd broken his body too far," Durell told them, "He pleaded with me to end it."

"Oh my..." Teri broke down again, collapsing against Kat, "They are both gone..."

"But we're alive," Durell said, "Let's get the fuck out of here before we end up like them."

"I'm following you," Kat said, choking up a bit herself, "Come on, Teri."

## Chapter 34

"What do you mean you let him get away!" Timonchenko shouted at Filatov, "You let him get your phone, your gun, and your cash!"

"He cold cocked me!" Filatov lied, "I didn't have a chance!"

"How did he get out then?" Timonchenko asked him, his voice harsh, "He was bound and locked in a cell."

"There was a girl with him," Filatov said, "Pretty one, dark hair. They spoke in English, but hers was accented like a Finn."

"I thought you said he cold cocked you?" Ignatev asked him.

"I heard them talking over me when I woke up," Filatov lied again, trying to cover his tracks, "I wasn't going to take him on with a gun over me."

"And what did you tell him to let you live?" Timonchenko asked him, "I know Durell. He lived for killing KGB people."

"He only wanted to know where the rest of his people were," Filatov said, giving in, "I didn't know. He said I wasn't worth the noise of a bullet."

"He was right about that," Timonchenko said, the derision apparent in his tone, "Now tell me what you haven't said. I can tell you're holding something back."

"The girl," Filatov sighed, "I'd seen her before."

"Oh shit," Ignatev said, his eyes going wide, "The one in Durell's room..."

"What girl in Durell's room?" Timonchenko said, getting very angry, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"She was a hooker," Filatov said, "You only told us to get Durell."

"You idiots!" Timonchenko shouted at them, "Men like Durell don't hire hookers, especially when working in a place like this! That girl was probably someone close to him! That's why I wanted his whole fucking team picked up!"

"You said there were only four of them!" Ignatev protested, "We got all four Americans!"

"They would have hired Finns to translate," Timonchenko said, "Durell may know the language, but his team wouldn't."

Timonchenko pondered hitting them both but knew it would serve no purpose. He should have gone himself and he knew it. No need to blame them for falling for the tricks of a master. It would be more useful to send them out as birddogs, as Durell would be looking for them.

"Ok," Timonchenko said, still restraining anger, "You two have a new job."

"Oh shit," Filatov said, "I mean, Yes Sir!"

"That's better," Timonchenko nodded, "You two will find Durell and his people. How many of them still survive to your knowledge?"

"Durell and the Finn girl are still alive for sure," Filatov said, "One of his men died at the hotel. The Finns got overzealous on the other one. I found him dead in a room, shot either by the Finns or by Durell. The boy had been tortured and finished off with a shot in the mouth."

"Probably put out of his misery by Durell," Timonchenko said, "What about the girl on his team?"

"I found one dead Finn and one who had been shot in the balls," Filatov said, "He was barely coherent from the blood loss when I found him, but between his ramblings and the fact that the corpse had his dick out of his pants and wet, they were probably raping the girl."

"That means the girl isn't going to be much use to him," Timonchenko said, "There aren't many places left he can go, and his Finnish can't be that good. Take one of the Finns with you and find him."

"You got it!" Ignatev agreed, "We'll find him."

"I'm sure you will," Timonchenko said, knowing that Durell would end up killing both of them.

Ignatev and Filatov left the room and left Timonchenko alone, where he sat and rubbed his temples for a few minutes until Arto Paasilinna walked into the room. The old man looked a bit haggard, but happier than Timonchenko had seen him in all the years he'd known him.

"We've got control of most of the government arms," Paasilinna told him, "The sections of the Military I control are holding most of Helsinki proper and beginning to put down the riots."

"Any real hot spots left?" Timonchenko asked him, "How about resistance?"

"I heard about Durell," Arto said, "There is still a group of constitutionalists, they are being led by General Kahilainen at the moment. We've routed them out of the city, but I think they're playing possum right now."

"I'll get my people working on finding Kahilainen," Timonchenko promised, "You need to get the masses behind you. I don't exist here. You need to become the public face and quickly."

"As soon as we have firm control of the YLE facilities I'll go on," Paasilinna said, "I haven't gotten status reports on that yet."

"I'll check on YLE personally," Timonchenko said, "If we lose that to the Constitutionalists then we're going to pay dearly, especially with public opinion."

"I agree," Paasilinna nodded, "That's even more important than the airport, which we're still fighting for."

"As long as we're fighting then we control what we need to," Timonchenko agreed, "I'm carrying a phone, so if those two idiots pull a miracle and catch Durell, contact me."

"And if Durell catches them?" Paasilinna asked him.

"Put what is left into body bags and dump them in a hole," Timonchenko growled, "If Durell gets them before they get him, those two are as good as dead."

"I've never seen you worried about anyone like this," Paasilinna said, "Is Durell that good?"

"I've run across few better," Timonchenko said, "He killed a number of my agents in the middle of Czechoslovakia during the cold war. This was before he hit the age of twenty-five. Having someone like that in an area where I'm running a major operation is not something I look kindly on."

"Right," Paasilinna nodded, "Ok. I've got work to do."

"As do I," Timonchenko nodded, "Get ready. You will be going on Television tonight."

"I can hardly wait," Paasilinna said, "This has been a long time coming."

"Finland today," Timonchenko nodded, "Russia tomorrow, then we'll bring back the good old days."

"And I will get to dance on Kekkonen's grave," Paasilinna chuckled, "I bet old UKK is rolling in his grave with me in this palace."

"So much the better," Timonchenko agreed, "Good luck."

"You as well," the old socialist said.

## Chapter 35

A.J. Durell hotwired one of the old Zil automobiles that surrounded the Helsinki Police Barracks as Kat helped Teri lay down in the back. Teri looked awful still and curled up in a ball on the back seat. Kat couldn't do much for her so she took the seat next to Durell in the front.

"Where are we going?" Kat asked him as he pulled away.

"I was hoping you would have an idea," Durell said, "I need food. I haven't eaten since you and I ate last night. A pack of cigarettes would be nice too."

"The streets are a mess," Kat said, "I'd offer my place up, but I'm homeless now."

"You're a member of my team now," Durell said without hesitation, "I'll take care of you. We just have to get out of here."

"I'm all for that," Teri said weakly, "I just want to go home."

Teri started sobbing quietly into her arms. Kat and A.J. looked at each other and did not know what to do. One of the few things Durell did not deal with very much back in his younger days was rape victims. It was usually handled by female members of the group.

"I don't know the territory here," Durell told Kat, "We'll probably be better off out of the city. A little store with food and clothing would be good. I don't dare go back to the hotel at this point. Timonchenko's people will be watching it."

"Too late for an airplane?" Teri asked hopefully.

"According to the news earlier the rebels had taken most of the airport," Kat said, "If Timonchenko wants you that badly he'll have people watching it anyway."

"The docks are no good either," Durell said, remembering his geography, "Estonia is the only relatively close location and that would be almost as bad as going to Russia proper. I doubt we'll get lucky enough to get passage to Sweden."

"Not without papers," Kat said, "Which I don't think any of us have anymore."

"Ok," Durell said, pulling the car over, "Do you know how to drive one of these pieces of shit?"

"I can figure it out," Kat nodded, "What are you going to do?"

"Check her out," Durell said, "Unless you have medical training I don't know of?"

"I'll drive," Kat said, "I know Helsinki better than you do anyway."

Durell climbed into the back seat next to Teri. Teri moved over slightly, but kept staring at the back of the seat. Kat pulled away from the curb and headed over to the parts of town that she knew best.

"Teri," Durell said, "Where did they hurt you?"

"All over," Teri said, "Oh god, A.J., I just... I need... Why did I ever come here?"

"I know, Teri," Durell sighed, "If I had known I wouldn't have touched this with a ten foot pole. You know that."

"I don't blame you," Teri said, "I should know better I mean I've done rape counseling..."

"Counseling is a lot different than living it," Durell reminded her, "They won't hurt you again. I will promise you that."

"I just think they hurt something inside," Teri sobbed lightly, "I hurt all over."

"I know you probably don't want to be touched," Durell said, "But I need to see what may be damaged."

"Do what you have to," Teri said, "Be careful..."

Durell nodded and started poking lightly. Her limbs were banged up and there were bruises everywhere. She tensed up tightly every time his fingers prodded her, but the worst of it was around the ribs and stomach area. When he pressed on Teri's stomach she went into a coughing fit that coughed up blood.

"Shit," Durell said, "We've got to get you to a doctor, Teri. There are some internal injuries."

"Do I need to go to the hospital?" Kat asked him, "We're a few miles away..."

"Do that and we all die," Teri said, "It isn't safe."

"She's right," Kat said, turning up the radio, "YLE has been taken over by the communists. They are using the hospital as a rally point."

"I'm ok," Teri protested, "We need to get out of the country."

"Embassy?" Kat asked them, "Maybe they've got an evacuation going on?"

"Good idea," Durell nodded, "Do you know where it is, Kat?"

"Itäinen Puistotie," Kat told him, "We need to get her clothed first. There is a store there."

"Good," Durell said, "Stay with her, Kat. I'll go get some food."

"Do you have money?" Kat asked him, "I thought they took everything?"

"Do you have any, Kat?" Durell asked, "My wallet is at the hotel too."

"I hit an ATM before going to get you," Kat smiled, "Here is a hundred markkas. Should be able to get enough to keep us going."

"You, my dear, are a lifesaver," Durell said, kissing her cheek, "I'll be right back."

Kat smiled for a second, but stopped when she looked at Teri in the back. It was going to be a long night, especially for Teri. She just hoped Durell could make good on his promise to take care of them, though she knew the odds were very far against them at this point.

## Chapter 36

A.J Durell drove the car near the embassy and saw that all hell was breaking loose there too. He pulled the Zil over about a half block away and looked at Kat and Teri. He did not like the look of what was going on at the Embassy.

"I'm going to go take a closer look," Durell told them, "Keep low and if you see unfriendly troops drive off and circle."

"Got it," Kat agreed, "Good luck, A.J."

Durell got out of the car and walked slowly towards the Embassy. His knees were giving him some trouble, but the day of sitting in the cell had actually helped in that regard. He actually managed to walk straight until he got to the embassy gates, where a few rowdy Finns were fighting with the lone guard.

Durell went over and gave a quick assist, knocking one of the young Finns in the back of the head with his pistol. The other one was quickly subdued and then the guard turned to look at Durell.

"Thank you," the guard said in English, "Oh shit... how do I say that in Finnish..."

"Relax," Durell said, "I'm an American. Name is Durell."

"You're alive!" the guard said, offering a hand, "The ambassador thought you dead for sure. I'm Private Copeland. This Embassy isn't long for the world right now and I'm about the only one still left to tell about it. Ambassador Shearer is still inside if you want to talk to him, but I'd suggest making it quick."

"How are the evacuation plans going?" Durell asked him, seeing the movement inside and knowing lower levels are better for getting information, "It looks busy here."

"The suits in DC don't have a clue how to handle this," the guard told him, "It's been that way since Clinton took office."

"I don't know either," Durell said, "Which way to Shearer?"

"Through the door," the guard told him, "Look for smoke."

"Right," Durell nodded, heading inside.

Durell saw the U.S. Embassy and it was a wreck. It looked like looters had been in a time or two already, though it was probably just the result of a hasty evacuation. He found Derek Shearer busily burning documents into a barrel. The Ambassador looked up and reached for the weapon on the table.

"No need, Ambassador," Durell said, "I'm an American. Name is A.J. Durell."

"You're the one Roto hired to train people," Shearer said, "Brown sent a cable about you. Nice to see you're weathering this storm."

"My people weren't so lucky," Durell told him, "I've got two dead, one badly injured."

"Damn it," Shearer sighed, "I sent most of the staff out an hour ago. Last plane to leave before they lost the airport."

"I was hoping you had medics left," Durell said, "Teri is in bad shape. They want my ass badly too."

"Why?" Shearer asked, "You're a simple training man, aren't you?"

"The Russian running the show dealt with me in Czechoslovakia," Durell told him, "I nearly killed Timonchenko back in 1986."

"Timonchenko?" Shearer said, "The fucking Russians are behind this mess? I thought they stopped that when the Soviets fell."

"I think he's solo," Durell said, lighting a cigarette from the flame Shearer was burning files in, "Probably working with other disaffected ex-KGB."

"Kahilainen could use that information," Shearer said, "He's fighting a losing battle to keep the armed forces together."

"Do you know where he is?" Durell asked him, "And why are you here with just the one guard?"

"One?" Shearer asked, surprised, "There were six when I left."

"You might be better off just torching the place, Ambassador," Durell said as he heard motion outside, "I hear people, and I doubt they are friendly."

"I'm an ambassador," Shearer said, "I don't know anything about this end of the business."

"Start torching," Durell said, pulling a weapon, "I'm going to get that kid. We're getting out of here."

"Right," Shearer nodded, going for the lighter fluid, "I'll be down in a couple."

Durell nodded and made his way down the stairs slowly. There was another fight going on and despite a valiant effort Copeland was losing. Durell extended his weapon and fired three quick shots, taking each of the men down. Copeland fell to the ground and looked around.

"Oh god," he said, "I thought I was dead for sure."

"Are any of the others still alive?" Durell asked him, "It is time to leave this place."

"I'm the last one," Copeland said, pulling himself up, "The Ambassador coming?"

"Yeah," Durell nodded, "Come on kid."

"My name is Mark," he said, "Where are we going?"

"We're going to find the loyalists," Durell said, "Do you have a getaway pack?"

"Yeah," Mark said, "Right here."

"Good," Durell said, "Change. Get out of your uniform. You stand out like a sore thumb."

"Right," Mark nodded, "I'll be out in a minute."

"Make it thirty seconds," Durell said, "We're running out of time."

Durell was not kidding either. The groups that were intent on taking the embassy were getting sick of being pushed off by a handful of marines. Durell saw the groups massing and picked up a rifle from one of the dead marines. He checked the load while Mark finished changing.

"Get your weapon ready," Durell told the marine, "We're about to be invaded again."

"Shit," Mark said, "Ambassador! Get ready to get out!"

Mark grabbed his weapon, readying it again. Durell knew that they would not be able to take all of them, but he knew that if they made enough of a dent the group would back off enough. He just hoped that they would be able to do enough.

"Pick off the leaders," Durell instructed him, "Kill shots if you can, knees if you can't. We aren't out to kill them all, just delay them."

"Right," Mark said, gladly taking the instruction, "I've only been here for a couple months."

"You've passed your first tests," Durell said as he steadied, "You're alive. They aren't. That's the only result that matters. Remember that."

"I will," Mark said, "I just hope that I live long enough for it to matter."

"Fire!" Durell said as they started to charge the embassy.

Durell shot two of the instigators in the head quickly. He had not used a rifle like this in years, but his aim was still true. This delayed the crowd, but they knew that they were sitting ducks. Mark shot several of the front row in the knees, causing them to trip and knock other people down.

"Let's go!" Ambassador Shearer said as he came down, just in time to take a bullet in the shoulder, "Shit!"

"Get down!" Durell yelled, "You alive, Shearer?"

"Yeah," the ambassador said, "Any ideas on how to get out?"

"Is there a back way?" Durell asked him while Mark continued firing, "Quickly!"

"No back way," Shearer said, "Place was built into a hill to make it easier to defend."

"Shit," Durell said, "How are we doing, Mark?"

"They are regrouping," Mark said, "They're outside the gate, out of range."

"Reload and get ready," Durell said, "We're going to try to drive them back again. Do you have any explosives?"

"A few grenades," Mark said, "We're down to the end of our stocks."

"Ambassador," Durell said, "I need alcohol, highest proof we can get."

"There's a bottle of vodka in the desk," Mark said, "What are you going to do?"

"Try to make them retreat far enough that we can slide out," Durell said, "Hopefully Kat and Teri are still outside."

"I'll hold them back," Mark said, "Do your stuff."

## Chapter 37

"That's not good," Kat said, "They're trapped."

"What do you mean?" Teri asked her, "They can go out the back."

"There is no back," Kat said, "I got all my visas for my exchange program from there. They are stuck in there."

"I'm in no shape to play hero," Teri said, "Any ideas?"

"What do you know about Zil automobiles?" Kat asked her, "I'd never seen the inside of one before today."

"A.J. would know," Teri said, "I don't."

"If we don't help then they're going to die in there," Kat said, "And without A.J. the odds are good that we won't be far behind."

"No argument there," Teri agreed while groaning, "If I were not hurt I could help, but I can't sit up now without help."

"Stay down," Kat instructed her, "I'm going to hope this thing was built well."

"You aren't going to do what I think you are, are you?" Teri asked her, and then realized she was going to do so, "Take this, you'll need it more than I do."

Teri handed Kat the gun, but she had no idea how to use it. Kat handed it back to her and Teri cocked it to get it ready to use. Teri handed the gun back to Kat, who held on to it with her left hand while she shifted the black Zil into gear. She took a deep breath and shifted the weapon to her right hand as she moved her foot from the brake to the gas.

## Chapter 38

"There is a car coming in at high speed!" Mark yelled, "They can't be trying to crash the gate area, can they?"

"That concrete will stop them cold," Durell said, "But... It could be..."

Durell looked hard out there and saw the black Zil that he had commandeered from the police station. He fired a few shots at the group massed by the gate to keep their attention from the Zil. Durell then turned to Mark and Ambassador Shearer.

"Get ready to move," Durell said, "Ambassador, can you walk on your own?"

"Yes," Shearer nodded, "It hurts, but I can walk."

"Good," Durell nodded, "Reload your weapon, Mark. When Kat hits the group, we run and shoot anything that is not inside the car. Ambassador, stay behind us and stay low."

"You got it," Shearer said, "I take it if this doesn't work..."

"If this doesn't work we're all dead," Durell said, "We get one shot at it, so let's go!"

Kat ran the Zil as hard as she could. The group at the gate wasn't aware of what was happening until too late. The large Soviet era automobile plowed into them as Kat pulled the wheel to turn it into a slide. Teri, still huddled in the back, held on for dear life as Kat pulled that bizarre maneuver.

"Move!" Durell yelled and started walking and shooting, "Get to the car!"

The three of them went quickly, with Mark and A.J. firing at anything they could move. Kat pushed open her passenger's side and Teri did the same. Kat fired out the driver's window at a few people, but her aim was so lousy that she missed them completely. Mark got to the car first and fired shots at the group, providing cover for Durell and the Ambassador.

"Get in!" Kat yelled, "Come on!"

Durell wasted no time, especially since his knee was about ready to go out. Mark played the good soldier and provided cover for Durell and the Ambassador. Teri had pulled herself over to the side and the bleeding Ambassador went into the car next.

Mark narrowly missed taking one in the head as he ducked in and climbed into the old Zil. Durell fired out his open door hitting the one who nearly winged Mark as Kat tried to shift the aging Zil back into gear.

"Why haven't the windows shattered?" Mark asked, "They're shooting at us!"

"It's a Zil," Durell said, "Russian Government Issue. Bulletproof glass."

"Goddamned thing doesn't want to shift!" Kat exclaimed, "I think we broke something."

"Jam the clutch," Durell said, "Gas it when I tell you."

Kat nodded and followed instructions. Durell forced the vehicle into gear and gave her the go ahead, sending the black Zil flying ahead and smashing into one of the attackers. One of them managed to jump into the air enough to get on the hood and hold on for dear life as the old Soviet limo charged forward.

"Kat," Durell said, "I could kiss you."

"Wait until I stop driving," Kat smiled, "Then I'll insist on it."

"You ok, Teri?" Durell asked her, "You look a bit peaked."

"As good as I've been today," Teri said, "You are right, I need a doctor."

"So do I, so don't feel bad," Ambassador Shearer said, "I'm Derek Shearer, by the way."

"Teri Michaels," she said, "What do we do now, A.J.?"

"We need to get out of this car," Durell said, "How is it running, Kat?"

"Barely," Kat said, "I think I damaged something."

"You got us out," Durell smiled, "You have good timing."

"You're lucky I've been in that building," Kat told him, "I knew you were trapped."

"Thanks," Durell said, putting his hand on her shoulder and kissing her cheek, "You did well, Kat."

That alone was payment enough, as far as she was concerned. She let off a bright smile, as that was the first time in years that anyone had given her that type of praise. It was just as well that the fear had not registered yet. She would have the rest of her life to have the nightmares. It was time to enjoy the adrenalin.

## Chapter 39

"What idiot decided it would be a good idea to kill the Americans?" Timonchenko demanded, "Are they trying to make sure that the Americans fight hard against us?"

"It was mostly a gang of kids, most of them are dead now," Ignatev said, "The interesting thing is the one who got the ambassador out."

"Durell," Timonchenko said, almost spitting out the name, "That Svoloch!"

"We don't have exact numbers," Ignatev said, "Filatov is still chasing down the leads, but we think that Durell got away with the Ambassador and one or two of the marines."

"That man is going to be one giant pain in the ass," Timonchenko said, "That General is not helping matters much either."

"Kahilainen?" Ignatev said, "How much authority does he carry?"

"Not enough thankfully," Timonchenko said, "Paasilinna has been smart and kept Kitinoja alive. We control the parliamentarians and have most of the people who could take power."

"The military?" Ignatev asked his boss, "Where do they lie now?"

"I have to give the old man credit," Timonchenko said, "He wasn't able to get them all, but enough have wavered to give Arto the in we needed. Petrukin read this situation right."

"So why are we worried about Kahilainen?" Ignatev wondered, "Sounds like he's rather impotent right now."

"Never underestimate an opponent," Timonchenko said, "Get out there with Filatov. If you can find Kahilainen, get me a message. Be sure that you get Durell first, though."

"Right," Ignatev said, "What do we do when we find Durell, anyway?"

"Kill him," Timonchenko said, "Quickly. Don't play hero. Just leave me enough to identify and spit on."

"You got it, boss," Ignatev said, "As soon as we can."

Timonchenko did not hold much hope of that.

## Chapter 40

"Keep the pressure down on that, Ambassador," Mark the Marine told him, "You aren't hit bad, but if you bleed out you are dead sure as hell."

"Yeah," Shearer nodded, "I know. Damn Bill for sending me here."

"You know our draft dodger in chief, eh?" Durell said, "Nice thank you this post turned out to be."

"Don't I know it," Shearer groaned, "What is the next step, Durell? I guess you're in charge now."

"I guess so," Durell nodded, "Kat, you ok driving?"

"I am," Kat agreed, "This car isn't long for the world though. Engine is starting to overheat."

"The ambassador needs medical attention," Mark said, "From the look, so does your friend here."

"We need to figure out who is still in charge," Durell said, "Timonchenko's people can't be running everything."

"Last I heard General Kahilainen was leading the constitutionalists," Shearer said, "Scuttlebutt had them massing outside of Helsinki, but where is anyone's guess."

"Any ideas, Kat?" Durell asked her, "You've lived in the Helsinki area. The rest of us are visitors."

"I managed to duck army time," Kat said, "I don't know where they would be, but I may know how to find out."

"What?" Durell asked her.

"They'll need supplies," Kat said, "Any bets on whether they've gotten there ahead of the communists?"

"Do you know where the armory is?" Durell asked her, "You'll earn a big kiss if you do..."

"Everyone knows that," Kat said, "It's not far from here, provided the car survives that long."

"Push it, Kat," Durell said, "How much ammo do you have left, Mark?"

"Two clips," he said, checking, "A third that is half full and one in my pocket that I should be able to combine."

"I picked up two for this one from one of your late friends," Durell said, "I'm down to about two shots in this pistol I took from that jackass back in the police barracks."

"Here," Kat said, handing him a weapon, "Teri passed this to me."

"I'll take it," Durell nodded, "Ok, Kat. Get us there. We'll see if we can find clues to where Kahilainen and his people are. If nothing else maybe we can get some decent medical supplies."

"It's worth a shot," Mark nodded, "Can't do worse than we have already."

"Yes we can," Teri said, almost groaning, "We can die."

"There is that," Mark admitted, "Not something I'm keen to do yet."

"The only one who is going to die is Timonchenko," Durell said, "He's the son of a bitch who did all this."

There was a general murmur of agreement. Hate was not much, but in the right situation it could keep a person warm. This was such a situation.

## Chapter 41

"About time you answered," Filatov said over his replacement cell phone, "I've been calling for ten minutes"

"I was with Timonchenko," he said, "Where the hell are you?"

"Playing odds," Filatov said, "If you were Durell where would you go?"

"Home," Ignatev said, deadpan.

"Other than that," Filatov grumbled.

"Find Kahilainen," Ignatev said through the radio, "What are you up to?"

"I'm guessing Kahilainen and his people raided this depot," Filatov said, "It's sure as hell empty. Any bets on whether Durell shows up?"

"Better than what I have," Ignatev agreed, "Someone needs to stay by that place anyway."

"I figured," Filatov agreed, "I've got six Finns with me and we're in ambush position."

"I've got a few leads to follow up," Ignatev said, "Get a bit of rest while you are there. If it doesn't pan out you can go out while I rest later."

"Right," Filatov said, "See you later."

"Good luck," Ignatev said, "You'll need it."

## Chapter 42

"It's just around the corner," Kat said, "What next?"

"If we were in a better car I'd do a drive by," Durell said, "I'm wondering what the hell we're going to find there."

"We're in a damaged car with two wounded people," Mark said, "Perhaps you and I should check it out on foot? Probably be safer than driving this piece of shit."

Durell sighed and rubbed his knee. He knew it wasn't going to last much longer, but Mark was right that it would be safer. He figured that he had no other choice but to continue. Mark waited for the older man's decision.

"Kat," Durell said, "I want you to circle around a bit."

"Until the car dies," Kat nodded, "And if you don't come back?"

"Get to a hospital, get them taken care of," Durell said, "If we're not back in a half hour, we're not coming back."

"Don't talk like that," Kat said, "Come back to me."

"As soon as I can manage," Durell said, planting a kiss on her forehead, "You ready, Jarhead?"

"Yeah," Mark nodded, though he looked nervous, "I'll follow you."

Durell nodded as he got out of the old Zil. Mark followed closely, holding his weapon down in the ready position. Durell knew enough not to head directly to the armory, as any enemies would be expecting that. He wormed his way around the nearby buildings.

"I thought Kat said the Armory was that way," Mark said, "What do you have in mind?"

"Avoiding suicide," Durell said, "You have a set of binoculars, Jarhead?"

"Yeah," Mark said, handing them over, "You think the bad guys control it?"

"I would," Durell said, "Never leave supplies lying around."

"Who the hell are you, man?" Mark asked him as Durell eyeballed the armory building, "You aren't regular military, that's for damn sure."

"Nah," Durell said, chuckling a little, "I was a freelancer. Got sucked into the freedom fighting in the old Soviet bloc back in the eighties. I do mainly anti-terrorist training now, which is how we ended up here."

"No wonder they want your ass," Mark said, "Guys like you are dangerous."

"That's what those people at the Armory are about to find out," Durell said, pointing out one of Filatov's people, "They've set up an ambush."

"Which side, though?" Mark asked, "I mean..."

"We need more information," Durell nodded, "I think I know how to get it too. You need to get on the other side of them. Think you can do it?"

"I took second in my class in urban warfare," Mark nodded, "Give me ten minutes and I'll get on the other side of them."

"Good," Durell said, "We'll ambush the ambushers."

"How do we tell if they are good guys or not?" Mark asked him, "I don't want to kill any loyalists, you know?"

"I'm going to yell something in Russian," Durell said, "You'll be able to tell by their reaction whether they are good or bad."

"What are you going to yell that would do that?" Mark wondered, "Or do I want to know?"

"Yob materi vashi!" Durell grinned, "It means, quite rudely, that I fucked their mothers. If they are Finns, it won't mean much to them unless they speak fluent Russian."

"And if they are Russian..." Mark said, then chuckled, "You'll be dodging bullets."

"And you'll be picking them off from behind," Durell nodded, "You got it, buddy."

"Give me ten minutes," Mark said, "I'll get into place."

"Right," Durell nodded, "I'll be timing you."

## Chapter 43

"Look alive," Filatov said, "We could have action at any time."

"It's too late for that," one of the Finns said, "Everyone in their right mind is asleep, just like we should be."

"You can sleep when you're dead," Filatov said, "I promise that if Durell shows up he won't be whining about sleep."

"He isn't the boogeyman," another Finn said, "He can't be that important."

"He tore through a group of your friends at the Embassy," Filatov reminded them, "That man will not stop until we're all dead."

"You make him sound like the Terminator," another one said, "He's just a man."

"I've seen him in action," Filatov said, "I've still got the knot on my head. Four of your friends at the police barracks are dead, along with over a dozen of your friends who attacked the embassy."

"Eh," they said, "I mean..."

"Yob materi vashi!" Durell yelled from around the corner, interrupting the thought, "Zhri govno i zdohni!"

"It's him!" Filatov yelled, "Get him!"

Durell took cover and fired a couple poorly aimed shots into the air with a pistol to make them think he was actively trying to get them. Mark saw the Finns getting in position and slowly got himself ready. While they were trying to figure out the best way to attack he started letting off well aimed head shots at them from behind.

Filatov was the first to realize that they had been hoodwinked by Durell's gambit. He tried to turn around, but only managed to get out of the way enough to take Mark's bullet in the shoulder rather than in the neck as he had been aiming for.

Durell poked up with his rifle and fired shots into the targets closest to him. Filatov had so poorly planned his ambush that it had turned into a true duck shoot for them. Durell fired two more shots at Filatov, almost removing the Russian's right arm so that he could not fire his weapon.

"Don't kill the Russian!" Durell yelled in English, "I want him alive!"

Mark silently followed Durell's instructions and continued firing at the Finns until the only one moving was the Russian. Durell stood up first and made the approach as Mark covered the area. Filatov was lying in a pool of his own blood on the concrete. He looked up at Durell and coughed.

"Poshol nahuj," Filatov said to Durell, "You can't win."

"I've beaten you," Durell said in Russian, "That's enough for now."

"Ignatev will find you," Filatov said, "You will die."

"I'm sure you'll be there to greet me into hell," Durell said, "Tell me where Timonchenko is and I'll make it quick."

"It'll come quick enough," Filatov said, chuckling as he coughed up more blood, "Timonchenko wants you dead. He'll find a way."

"I hope for his sake the next one is better than you," Durell said, raising his weapon, "Goodbye Filatov."

"Poydi k chertu!" Filatov exclaimed as Durell pulled the trigger.

"What did that mean?" Mark asked as he came out from behind the wall, "It didn't sound pleasant."

"Told me to go to hell before I killed him," Durell said, "Do a clear check on the building. I'm going to go flag down Kat."

"You got it," Mark nodded, "If you hear shooting it means something has gone wrong."

"I know," Durell nodded and pulled out a cigarette, "It usually does."

## Chapter 44

"This place is a mess," Mark said as they pulled the Zil inside, "No way even the Finnish military left it like this."

"They probably were in and out," Durell said, "Still some good stuff here, especially the medical stuff."

"So what do we do now?" Kat asked him, "We've still got two injured people."

"I was hoping there would still be some loyalists around," Durell said, "I'm pulling this all out of my ass just like the rest of you."

"We're still alive," Mark said, "I'll take that as a start."

"Teri won't be for long without attention," Kat said, "She passed out again."

"I know," Durell said, "I'm trying to come up with a plan here, and it's not working."

"There's movement out there," Mark said, "Hear that engine?"

"Yeah," Durell nodded, "Get the car in the back, Kat. Mark, take one side and don't shoot unless I shoot first."

"Right," Mark nodded, "Following your lead."

A single truck arrived at the armory and drove to the open front bay door. Durell held a hand out indicating that Mark needed to take it easy. It was a pair of young men in the front of the truck, both looking nervous. They wore uniforms like regular soldiers, something that Durell had yet to see any of Timonchenko's men do.

They climbed out of the truck and Durell saw that they weren't holding weapons. This made him think that most likely he was dealing with either a pair of deserters or someone who actually was working for the army.

"Looks like a battleground," one of them said, "I thought we were only grabbing extra supplies?"

"Let's do it quickly before someone else comes back," the other one said, "This place gives me the creeps."

"It will do more than that if you don't put up your hands," Durell said in Finnish, "I won't ask again."

Durell clacked the slide on the weapon to let both men know it was there. Neither one of the young men had an urge to die that day, so they did as they were told. Durell walked around slowly and took a better look at them.

"Which side are you on?" Durell asked them.

"We're conscripts," one of them said, "We're only following orders."

"Whose orders?" Durell asked him, "Quickly."

"They came from General Kahilainen," one of them said, "And no, I don't know where he is."

"About time we ran into constitutionalist soldiers," Durell said, smiling a little, "I think we're on the same side."

"Can we put our hands down now?" one of them asked, "Please?"

"Antti?" Kat said, "Joosep? What are you two doing here?"

"Kat?" the one she identified as Antti said, "What the..."

"What are you doing here?" Joosep said, "I haven't seen you since my sister moved to Norway."

"I got myself caught in this mess," Kat said, "Please tell me you're sticking with the government?"

"Not in the mood to get executed," Antti said, "We're following orders."

"Which are?" Durell asked them, not quite trusting yet.

"See who had the armory and get supplies if it was unattended," Joosep said, "Can we put our hands down now?"

"Go ahead," Durell said, "What are you supposed to do with them after?"

"Meet Major Kurstot outside of the city," Joosep said, "Just who the hell are you people?"

"Joosep," Antti said, "Isn't this the guy that was handling the training before all hell broke loose?"

"That's me," Durell nodded, "I've got two injured people in the back. I'll make you a deal. Mark, Kat and I will help load if you take all five of us with you to meet the Major. Hopefully he'll know how to get to Kahilainen and medical attention for them."

"You've got a deal," Antti said, "I guess."

"Let's go," Durell said, "We're running out of time. Ignatev is going to wonder what happened to Filatov before long."

"Who is Filatov?" Joosep asked, "Who is Ignatev for that matter?"

"Ignatev is one of the boys behind this mess, working for another Russian named Timonchenko," Durell explained, "Filatov is that grease spot you ran over when you pulled in here."

"Fair enough," Joosep nodded with respect, "Let's go."

## Chapter 45

"This has been a nightmare of a day," Kat said as she leaned against Durell in the front seat, "Please tell me it's close to over."

A.J., Kat and Antti were in the cab of the truck during the long drive as the others got the back. It wasn't supposed to be a long drive, but since it had been such a long day any drive was turning into a long one.

"Soon, hopefully," Durell said, wrapping an arm around her and then switching to Finnish, "How far out are we, Antti?"

"Five miles or so," he said, "How the hell could this happen here?"

"It can happen anywhere," Durell said, "Anytime people get pushed to the point where their livelihood is threatened."

"That is how Hitler got in power as well," Kat said, "Desperate times make for desperate people."

"So what the hell are you doing here?" Antti asked Kat, "I mean last I saw you was in that show with my sister, a few years ago."

"Show?" Durell asked her.

"A Fashion show I modeled for," Kat explained, "Before I started getting too old for that."

"Too old?" Durell said, "You're younger than I am!"

"A model's career is short," Kat said, "Especially when the economy sucks like it does now."

"Kekkonen's policies left us vulnerable," Antti said, "They kept the Soviets from gobbling us up but screwed us when they died."

"Nobody expected the Soviets to fall like they did," Durell said, "You should have seen my face when I found out about it."

"What were you doing?" Kat asked A.J., "At that time?"

"Working security for my father's company," Durell said, "I think I got drunk and stayed that way for about a week."

"This still doesn't answer what you're doing here, Kat," Antti said, "I mean you're the last person we expected to see here."

"I knew A.J. when I was an exchange student," Kat told him, "He called me when he came into town. I needed a job, so I started doing translation for him and his team."

"Somehow I think you are more than just employer/employee," Antti chuckled, "You're entirely too close for that."

"I..." Kat said and looked up at A.J., "I think we..."

"I think we picked up on something we should have years ago," Durell finished for her, "Sound about right?"

"Glad something good came out of this mess," Antti chuckled, "We should be there anytime now."

"So what are you two doing in the army?" Kat asked him, "Last I heard you two were working construction or something."

"The economy got us too," Antti shrugged, "It was either join or starve."

"I can understand that one," Kat said, "I considered it a few times, but I don't think I'd have lasted long."

"It isn't such a bad life," Antti shrugged, "Joosep and I have been saving our pay. We plan on opening an auto shop or something when we get out."

"Sounds like a plan," Durell said, "Provided we get out of this mess alive."

"Don't I know it," Antti sighed, "We didn't sign up for this."

"There's a checkpoint ahead," Kat said, pointing out a group of cars, "I can't tell who it is, though."

"Is this it?" Durell asked Antti.

"Could be," Antti said, "We weren't told exactly so that we couldn't tell if we were caught."

"Hit the floor, Kat," Durell said, "Antti, get prepared. If they look hostile, we'll ram them."

"Right," Antti agreed, "I'll follow your lead."

Durell nodded and cocked his rifle, looking hard at the men who were manning the upcoming checkpoint. They were aiming weapons at them, but the looks on their face held little malice. Durell also recognized several of them from the classes he had been giving. Durell didn't let his guard down, but kept the rifle down.

"Halt," the leader of the group said, "Who are you?"

"Antti Harkkonen," he identified himself, "Corporal."

"Halonen," the leader said, "Captain."

"Which side?" Durell asked him, his voice remaining cold.

"We serve under General Kahilainen," Captain Halonen said, "Nice to see you are free, Mr. Durell."

"Nice to see you, Captain," Durell said, "I have two injured in the back. They need medical care."

"Follow me," Captain Halonen said, "We've set up shop at a base not far from here. We have doctors there, surgeons if necessary."

"Thank you," Durell said, smiling finally, "Let's get moving. I have information the General could use."

"I'm sure you do," Halonen agreed, "Follow along. It is about ten minutes from here. Would you like one of my medics to join you?"

"They are in the back," Durell said, "Please, if they can do anything it would be helpful."

Halonen nodded and barked an order. Two men climbed into the back of the truck while Captain Halonen went back to his jeep. They pulled out and caravanned towards the base while everyone in the truck breathed a sigh of relief.

## Chapter 46

It did not look much like a military base, but the Finnish military had not been a particularly active one for many years. Antti Harkkonen parked the truck in front of a building and climbed out. A.J. and Kat climbed out of the truck, their feet crunching into the snow. Captain Halonen walked over to them and looked at them.

"You don't look so well, Durell," Halonen said, "When is the last time you slept?"

"Sleep isn't the problem," Durell chuckled, "My knees are. Let's get the ones who are badly injured taken care of first."

"You sure you don't need attention?" Halonen asked him, "You look like you're barely standing up."

"Nothing your doctors could do that would help," Durell assured them as medics took Teri Michaels and Ambassador Shearer from the truck, "Is General Kahilainen on base? I've got information for him."

Mark walked over and stood with Durell and Kat. Durell nodded at the marine and then looked back at Halonen. Kat stood there, shivering a little in the cold November air. Halonen looked at them and nodded.

"He's here," Halonen said, "But busy."

"He's not too busy for what I have for him," Durell assured him, "I know who is behind this."

"Arto Paasilinna," Halonen said, "Everyone knows that."

"That's the public face," Durell said, "There's a Russian behind him doing the dirty work. His name is Timonchenko."

"Son of a bitch," Halonen said, his eyes lighting up, "How do you know this?"

"Kahilainen will want to know," Durell said, "I'd prefer not to repeat myself."

"Of course," Halonen nodded, "You only, though."

"She comes with me," Durell said before Kat could protest, "The Marine can go stand watch on Ambassador Shearer."

"Fair enough," Halonen nodded, "You give the instructions, I can't speak English very well."

"Mark," Durell said, turning to the marine and speaking English, "Your job now is to watch the Ambassador and Teri. I've got to talk to the General for a while, figure out what the next step is."

"Ok," Mark nodded, "I don't even know who I work for anymore."

"Technically still the Ambassador," Durell said, "I'll try to get that cleared up if I can get communication back to the states."

"See you later," Mark said, "I saw where they were going."

"Let's go," Durell said to Halonen in Finnish, "I need to sit down."

Halonen led them into one of the few permanent structures in the area, a large house that looked like it had once housed some form of nobility. A.J. and Kat followed him, though Durell kept his weapon for the moment. Nobody was about to try to take it from them, a sure sign that they were not worried about him.

Halonen went into the room first, presumably to make his report, then came out to get A.J. and Kat. The three of them walked back into the room to find General Kahilainen sitting behind a table covered with maps and status reports. He looked harried, but still confident. Anger was also present on his face, but not directed at the Durell.

"Glad to see you made it out," Kahilainen said from across the table, "I heard they took you early this morning."

"It was a rude awakening," Durell agreed, "It was worse for my team than it was for me."

"I heard one died at the hotel," Kahilainen nodded, "What happened to the others?"

"Teri was raped," Durell said, "She's in bad shape, but your people are working on her now. Mike was beyond help, paralyzed and in serious pain. He asked me to end it for him. I obliged."

Kat visibly shuddered at that. Kahilainen simply nodded. He had been in the military long enough to know what it was like. Durell had been through it too many times to let himself dwell on it anymore.

"Captain Halonen tells me you brought Ambassador Shearer to us too," the General said, "I can't believe this day has gone this badly."

"Timonchenko is involved," Durell said, "I'm not surprised at all."

"Who is this Timonchenko?" General Kahilainen asked him, "Is he employed by Paasilinna?"

"Paasilinna is more likely his stooge," Durell said, "Shurik decided to pay me a visit at the jail this morning. Luckily for me I was worth more to him as a bargaining chip than as a corpse. That is likely to change after today."

"You've been a busy man," Kahilainen nodded, "You've also been more successful than we have. We keep losing ground."

"How do things stand?" Durell asked him, "I've heard bits and pieces, but don't know the tactical situation."

"About a third to a half of the armed forces stand with me," Kahilainen told him, "The border forces don't know what to make of it yet, especially in the north. That comprises maybe a quarter. The rest are in Paasilinna's pocket."

"Which means Timonchenko is probably exercising indirect control over them," Durell said, "Did they come in from the east?"

"A lot of them are Russian border troops," Kahilainen nodded, "Which does hold up with what you've told me. I've been trying to regroup and get a resistance together, but this hit by surprise."

"I sure as hell wasn't expecting it," Kat said, "I was enjoying my new job and suddenly it all went to hell."

"How did you get out, Durell?" Kahilainen asked him, "If Timonchenko wanted you so bad, I would have thought he'd have watched you well."

"He locked me up and tried to forget about me," Durell said, "I managed to trick Timonchenko's flunkies into thinking I'd hired Kat for the night and they let her go."

"I decided that I wasn't going to abandon him," Kat said, "I've lost everything from the rioting. I had nothing else to go back to."

"I'm glad to see you both," Kahilainen said, getting up to shake hands with them, "Is there anything else you can tell me that might help?"

"Timonchenko is down a few flunkies," Durell said, shaking hands and moving on to the subject Kahilainen wanted to avoid, "What is the status of the actual government?"

"They have enough of the parliament to prevent a quorum," Kahilainen said, "They also took control of the presidential palace. Paasilinna keeps saying that Kitinoja is alive, so..."

"No clear succession," Durell nodded, "I take it that you're the highest ranking officer they haven't caught?"

"Luckily I was with my mistress," Kahilainen said, a smile on his face, "A few of my aides got out and met up with me. We've been playing catch up ball ever since."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Durell asked him, "I've been in this type of game before."

"I'll know more tomorrow," Kahilainen said, "You look like hell, Durell. You should get checked out and get some food into you. When is the last time you ate?"

"I haven't had but a few snacks since last night," Durell admitted, "You hungry, Kat?"

"Starving," she said, "I haven't eaten in a while either."

"Go get yourselves taken care of," Kahilainen said, "We'll discuss further in the morning."

Durell nodded and took Kat by the arm, leaving to go get some food and some medical attention. General Kahilainen called Captain Halonen into the room once Durell was gone. The younger man looked at the General and flashed a proper salute, as was the custom.

"At ease, Captain," the General said, "How did you come across Durell and his people?"

"They came in with Corporal Harkkonen's group, sir," Halonen said, "I recognized him from the training classes and figured you would want to speak to him."

"Where the hell did Harkkonen come up with them?" Kahilainen said, "Never mind, it isn't important. You did well, Captain. Could you get Major Kurstot on your way to mess?"

"Yes sir!" Captain Halonen barked and walked out of the room.

Major Kurstot entered the room and looked at his boss. He was a tall man in his early forties, an almost stereotypical specimen of a Scandinavian. He sat down in a chair and waited for General Kahilainen to begin.

"You've read the file on Durell," Kahilainen said, "Did Halonen tell you anything about what Durell is claiming?"

"The Russians," Kurstot nodded, "Not surprising, really. I've heard of this Timonchenko character. Our security forces were watching him, but evidently not well enough."

"What do you think about Durell himself?" Kahilainen asked him, "You saw more of the training than I did."

"He's good," Kurstot said without hesitation, "He has a low tolerance for bullshit and a bit of arrogance, but that is because he's good. The fact that the Russians thought enough of him to grab him before taking the president's mansion should tell us something."

"I don't know if he will be willing to help," Kahilainen said, "This isn't his fight and we aren't his people."

"I don't like having to have an outsider here," Kurstot said, "He's angry too, which could be another bad thing."

"We owe him for bringing the American ambassador here alive," Kahilainen said, "We may be able to turn that into a public relations windfall, especially on the foreign stage."

"I suggest letting him rest," Kurstot said, "He's obviously smitten with Miss Pekarininen. Let them rest together before we deal with them."

"I don't think she will be a factor," Kahilainen told his subordinate, "But losing his team may be. At any rate, there's little we can do tonight."

"Whatever works," Kurstot nodded, "I'll follow your lead."

"You're a good soldier, Major" Kahilainen nodded, "Thank you."

"I'm going to go catch a few hours of sleep, General," Kurstot said, "Unless you have any more instructions..."

"None right now," Kahilainen said, "Good night, Major."

## Chapter 47

"How does it feel to be in that seat, Arto?" Aleksandr Timonchenko asked him, "Is it everything you wanted?"

"It feels good," Paasilinna said, "I almost never thought I would see this day."

"We aren't done yet," Timonchenko said, "A lot went right, but it could still crumble on us. We don't control the military yet, and that's going to be a sticking point."

"If we could have captured Kahilainen we would be better off," Paasilinna agreed, "We're still looking for him."

"Durell is going to be a factor," Timonchenko said, "That son of a bitch is still on the loose."

"Why didn't you kill him when you had him?" Paasilinna asked him, "Nobody would have known the difference."

"Petrukin wanted to trade him to our old agency," Timonchenko explained, "I should have known better."

"I should sleep," Paasilinna said, "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"You're due on television tomorrow," Timonchenko nodded, "How soon do you think your people will have control of the local police?"

"It will take a few days," Paasilinna replied, "It will get better as we beat down the competition."

"I'll do some behind the scenes work on that," Timonchenko promised, "Some of the opposition will disappear."

"I can live with that," Paasilinna said, "Let me know in the morning, and we'll confer on who to remove."

"Get some sleep," Timonchenko told him, "I need to contact Petrukin anyway."

"Very well," Paasilinna said, "Give him my best."

Timonchenko nodded and excused himself. He went to a small-enclosed room and pulled out a communications kit. The one thing that was still operating well was the communications system, which by all standards was a good one. Better than the old Russian phone encryption device he was using, that was for sure.

"Come on," Timonchenko said, "Work for me you little sooka!"

Timonchenko fought with the device for a bit and was about to dial when someone started knocking on the door. He bit off another curse and turned to the door, opening it up. What he saw was a very pissed off Ignatev. Timonchenko took a breath and stood up to look at his subordinate.

"What happened?" Timonchenko asked him, "Since you are this pissed off, I can only guess that Durell was part of it."

"Filatov is dead," Ignatev said, "Along with the group he had with him at the Armory."

"How many?" Timonchenko asked, not wanting to know for sure, "And did they at least get him?"

"Filatov and six of our Finnish comrades," Ignatev reported and then proceeded with the details, "It was Durell. I found the same Zil that he had used at the American Embassy. No sign of where they went, though the place was pretty well cleaned out."

"With our luck he's probably trying to join the loyalists," Timonchenko said, frowning, "Anything else?"

"Not now," Ignatev said, "Other than the fact that I intend to kill him."

"No argument from me," Timonchenko nodded, "No more games. If you find him, kill him. Just leave enough for me to identify."

"Good," Ignatev said, "I'm going to go get some food and rest. No need to continue angry."

"Durell will pay," Timonchenko promised, pleased that Ignatev knew his limitations, "I promise you that."

"Thanks," Ignatev said, "I'll report back in the morning."

Timonchenko nodded and closed the door. He went back to fiddling with the communications machine and finally got it to dial the number he was trying to get. It rang four times before the encryption machine on the other side picked it up.

"Petrukin," the voice on the other side said, "It's about time you reported in, Timonchenko."

"Been a long day," Timonchenko said, "Mostly successful though."

Timonchenko spent the better part of a half hour explaining what had been going on in the capital. Petrukin was gratified that it had gone as smoothly as it had and informed Timonchenko about the progress being made in the border regions. Petrukin was handling that himself, as it was not a high profile operation.

"Durell is going to be a wild card now," Timonchenko said, "I should have killed him when I had a chance."

"It's my fault," Petrukin said, "I should have listened to you. I didn't think he'd be that big a factor."

"He's not, yet," Timonchenko said, "I have a suspicion that he may hook up with the Constitutionalists. I would if I were him."

"You need to get a group together and take out Kahilainen's group before they get themselves recognized," Petrukin warned, "It's easier to break them at the beginning than to let them get entrenched."

"As soon as we find them," Timonchenko said, "We think they took over a base outside of Helsinki, but we lost some of the records during the resistance."

"I'll get a list of Helsinki area government owned properties," Petrukin said, "How many people have you lost?"

"About two dozen Finns," Timonchenko said, "They're expendable, no loss. I lost Filatov to Durell though and that is going to hurt."

"I thought he and Ignatev always worked together," Petrukin said, "Where is he?"

"They had split up," Timonchenko explained, "Filatov had set up an ambush at the main armory on the theory that Durell would probably show up. Unfortunately for him, Durell did."

"You make him sound like a ghost," Petrukin said, "He's not immortal and he's not even in very good shape. I've read his FSB file. He has bad knees and a bunch of other problems. What the hell makes him more dangerous than anyone else?"

"His mind," Timonchenko said, "That son of a bitch wasn't the most physically dangerous, but he has a knack for getting into his opponent's head. You know as well as I do that that is half the game."

"Do what you need to," Petrukin said, "I trust your judgment. I wouldn't have chosen you otherwise, Shurik."

"Ignatev is taking the lead on that for now," Timonchenko said, "He has the fire and doesn't have the baggage of Durell knowing his tactics like I do."

"Watch him," Petrukin suggested, "He was close to Filatov. That might unbalance him a little."

"I will," Timonchenko told him, "Anything else?"

"Not for now," Petrukin said, "You're handling it well. You know where to reach me if necessary. If I'm not here there will be a message for you. Decipher it with the old code."

"Right," Timonchenko agreed, "The motherland is closer to returning today... Do you feel it?"

"I do," Petrukin said, "Now go rest. You won't do anyone any good unless you are refreshed."

"Yes sir," Timonchenko chuckled, "Good luck, Andruska."

"You too, Shurik," Petrukin said, "Good night."

Timonchenko put down the phone and sat back in a chair. It hadn't been too bad of a day, after all. He just hoped he could stop the problems before they got any worse. There was one memory that kept coming back to his head. One that had plagued him ever since he knew Durell was in the area.

## Chapter 48

Colonel Aleksandr Timonchenko had been the KGB resident officer in Prague, Czechoslovakia in June of 1986. Durell had been a problem for him for over a year when the fateful day came.

"That damned group is going to be the death of me, Lev," Aleksandr Timonchenko said, "They have killed five agents this month! They are starting to call this the post of death back home!"

"It's that fucking American," Lev Andropnik said, "He's like a ghost, Shurik. Word is that he isn't even twenty five, but he's got them organized so well that we can't find them."

"Well we're going to take care of that today," Timonchenko said, "One of our informers got a tip on where Durell's cell is located. Since our Czech friends have been doing such a lousy job, we're going to do it this time."

"I'm in," Andropnik nodded, "What do you want me to do?"

"You were in Spetsnaz," Timonchenko said, referring to Soviet Special Forces, "I want you to lead the first group."

"I can do that," Andropnik said, "It'll be good to get back into the game. I've been playing your spy games too long, Shurik."

"Good," Timonchenko said, spreading out some papers, "Here's the plan..."

Timonchenko took his back up team to a position outside of the building that the intelligence had pinpointed as the current headquarters. Timonchenko was chief of station in the area, but Durell had become enough of a problem that he wanted to take personal charge of the mission.

"Team one," Andropnik said over the radio, "We're going in."

"Call me if you need me," Timonchenko said, "We're waiting for you."

Timonchenko watched the squad of Russians rush into the building. He smiled and waited for the words of success to come through the radio. He watched through a pair of binoculars as a few idle shots were fired. It looked like it was going smoothly, which pleased Timonchenko. He needed a success, especially with Gorbachev's perestroika causing him more headaches than he cared to think about.

"Shurik," Andropnik's voice came over the radio, "Something is wrong here, there aren't enough people here..."

Before Andropnik could finish his sentence a large blast erupted in the building that the team was in. The blast was large enough to knock in the windows in the building that Timonchenko had his reserve team in. Timonchenko himself was knocked backwards, crashing into a table.

"Let's go!" A.J. Durell yelled in Czech as he stormed the room, "Kill anything wearing a Russian uniform!"

A group of teenagers, most of them younger than Durell himself, rushed the room and many shots were fired. Most of Timonchenko's backup team died within seconds, not being prepared for this type of assault. Durell himself took the lead and rushed over to the table where Timonchenko was lying.

"Nice to see our friend's tip found its way to you," Durell said in Russian with a smile, "How does it feel to be on the other side of the gun, Timonchenko?"

"Just pull the trigger," Timonchenko said, growling, "Pashol na khui!"

"It isn't going to be that quick for you, Timonchenko," Durell said, then switched to Czech, "Bind him."

Two of Durell's people moved in to do that as Durell kept the KGB agent covered. Timonchenko knew better than to resist someone with a gun. His only hope was to keep himself alive until either Durell's people traded him or his people found him. He just hoped that whatever happened would happen soon.

Once Timonchenko was properly bound Durell stood him up and roughly pushed the agent forward. Timonchenko resisted a little and got the butt of Durell's gun into his ribs. Timonchenko gasped and lurched forward a little.

"How does it feel, Timonchenko?" Durell asked him in Russian, "This is what you've been doing to the people of this nation for years."

"You are a common murderer," Timonchenko said, "Nothing more, Durell."

"That's rich coming from you," Durell chuckled, "You and your ilk kill more Czechs each year than we ever could of assholes like you."

"We are the legal authority," Timonchenko said, "Who is going to run it, people like you? You want what we all do, Durell. You want power."

"I'm not like you, Timonchenko," Durell told him, "I'm not here to become a tyrant, just to help them throw your people out."

"That's nice," Timonchenko seethed, "We'll put that on your gravestone."

"You wish," Durell said, the smile never leaving his face, "We'll see how that goes."

"More KGB outside!" one of Durell's people yelled, "We need to leave now!"

"Move it, Timonchenko," Durell said, "Otherwise you will outlive your usefulness."

Durell roughly pushed Timonchenko into the hallway as the group tried to head out. Before anyone could duck out of the way, however, two KGB agents ran into the hallway firing. Four of Durell's people were killed instantly while Durell shoved Timonchenko to the floor and fired back. Timonchenko grunted as he hit the ground and tried to push himself out of the way.

Durell's shots rang true, killing one of the KGB agents. Another one of the survivors took out the other KGB agent while Durell pulled himself up and reloaded his stolen Russian pistol. Timonchenko took this opportunity to take a strike at Durell, knowing that those two agents who died would not be alone.

Timonchenko rolled over and let off a savage kick to Durell's kneecap, sending the tall young man falling backwards, screaming in pain. Timonchenko got another shot at the other knee, but was not able to do as much damage. Durell, with the help of one of his people managed to get up.

"We've got to get out of here, A.J.," the resistance member said, "Leave him."

"Not without payback for the knee," Durell growled and switched to Russian, "What was it you said before? Pashol na khui? Well same to you, buddy!"

Durell fired two shots into the KGB agent's stomach and dodged one that was fired at him by a rushing KGB agent in the doorway. Durell and his remaining team quickly made their way out the back of the building, disappearing as Czech regulars and more of Timonchenko's people came to save him.

Timonchenko was lucky that Durell had not had time to fire again, as those two bullets were in and of themselves very nearly fatal. If he had been simple rank and file in the communist block he would have died from the poor medical attention, but being a chief of station no effort was spared and he survived to fight another day.

The memory of A.J. Durell was one that had haunted him ever since that day, however. Sometimes it took generous doses of good Russian Vodka for him to let go of it enough to sleep it off. The fact that Durell was free and local made it even worse for the former KGB agent.

## Chapter 49

"You can barely stand up, Durell," the doctor checking him out said, "Don't bullshit me, there is something badly wrong with your knees."

"They have been bad for years," Durell said, "I don't see the point of x-raying them again."

"Come on, A.J.," Kat said, gripping his arm, "What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing," Durell said, "You aren't going to tell me anything I don't know already."

"What is wrong with it?" the doctor said, "You might as well tell me."

"My knees were badly damaged years ago," Durell said, "I've had doctors in the states looking after them for years. They've been telling me the same thing you will if you look at the X-Ray. I need to have them replaced. Something I don't have the time or inclination to do right now, even if you did have the facilities for it."

"You weren't kidding about how bad they were," Kat sighed, "I'm sorry, we should have been more careful..."

"I get this way from simple walking some days," Durell shrugged, "Some simple Tylenol should help me along. Ace bandages might not be a bad idea either."

"I've got both," the doctor nodded, "Though I wouldn't recommend either."

"No choice," Durell said, "A bit of rest will help me along with it more than anything you can do in the short term."

"I'll have some brought to you," the doctor said, "You are staying here tonight, right?"

"As long as you have my people I am," Durell agreed, "Any word from them?"

"The ambassador is resting comfortably," the doctor said, "His wound was minor, just needed treatment. The young lady is still in surgery. Her internal injuries were even more serious than we though."

"Damn Timonchenko," Durell said, "That son of a bitch is the cause of all of this."

"I doubt he ordered Teri's rape," Kat said, "There's nothing we can do about that now."

"I know," Durell said, "Where can we go to rest for a while, Doc?"

"There's a private room over there," the doctor said, "I'll come get you if we need information on your friend."

"Thanks," Durell said, "Ready to rest a bit, Kat?"

"Yeah," Kat nodded, "Very much so. Need a hand?"

"I'll be all right," Durell said, pulling himself up, "Let's go."

Kat stayed close to her man to give him a place to lean when he lost his balance. Durell cursed his knees silently as they gave out several times. Kat silently took the extra weight, keeping him from falling down. He took the help, much as it pained him to have to do so.

They walked together into that room and found that there were two beds. Durell sat down on one of them and Kat pushed the other over so she could be next to him. He laid back and tried to relax a little, though he knew relaxation was something he was not going to get much of that night.

"You ok?" Kat asked him, "You don't look so well."

"I always get like this after a day of action," Durell said, "I thought I'd ended this part of my life years ago."

"You couldn't have known," Kat said, "You heard General Kahilainen, they were just as unprepared."

"I know," Durell sighed, "I'm still sorry I had to drag you into it."

"Don't be," Kat smiled, kissing him on the forehead, "Most girls wait a lifetime for this sort of date, A.J."

"Joke now," Durell said, "You'll be waking up with the same nightmares I will."

"I don't doubt it," Kat said, "What did you do to stop it?"

"There is nothing you can do to stop it," Durell told her, "You just have to realize that it happens for a reason and do your best to rationalize it."

"You just knew what to do," Kat sighed, "I just wish I was that good..."

"You are," Durell said, smiling at her, "I would be dead now if you hadn't run that Zil into that crowd. We were trapped, nowhere to go."

"My life has changed so much in the past week," Kat sighed, "I don't know. It's just so strange right now."

Durell nodded and wrapped an arm around her. She pulled closer to him, until he gasped in pain when his pistol jammed into his already sore ribs. She pulled back a little and pulled the pistol out of his waistband.

"We can't get away from the things, can we?" Kat asked him, "I..."

It finally started hitting her. She realized just how close to dying she had come that day and the emotions flooded into her. Durell set the safe on the weapon and put it on the table next to the bed before pulling Kat tight against him. Kat started crying against him as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"Excitement is seriously overrated," Durell said, "Take it from someone who has been there."

"Why did you do it in the first place?" Kat asked him through the sobs, "Knowing you would be killing people?"

"I was looking for adventure," Durell said, "I fell into it. Turns out that I was good at it. I guess in a few ways I was too good at it."

"Does it ever bother you?" Kat asked, "Killing people?"

"Yes," Durell nodded, "It does."

"When does it stop?" Kat asked him, "I mean, I killed someone tonight..."

"If you are lucky it never does," Durell told her sternly, "I still am bothered by every single person I have ever killed."

"Lucky?" Kat said, "This is, the worst..."

"It's the worst feeling you will ever have," Durell said, "But if you ever stop feeling it..."

Durell sighed for a moment and gripped on to Kat for a moment, who returned in kind. It was painful for him to talk about this, as it brought back memories. The last time he had covered this subject had been with Kara, shortly before they had come back to the states together.

"If you ever stop feeling it," Durell finally said, "Then you end up like Timonchenko."

"You will never end up like him," Kat said, "You think too much."

"I keep telling myself that," Durell smiled, "I don't know though. I swear this stuff follows me around the world."

"When you're good, you're good," Kat said, "If you weren't here who knows, I might have died in the fire that burned my apartment."

"I wouldn't have wanted that to happen," Durell agreed, "I'm glad to have you here, even if I would have spared you from this mess."

"You are a mass of contradictions," Kat said, burying her face in his chest, "In a matter of seconds you go from sweet, caring guy to a cold professional."

"It is something you have to do," Durell said, "If you intend to survive you need to be able to be that person, but if you stay that person all the time..."

"It's no way to live," Kat agreed, "But I'm glad you kept that sense of humor. I have missed that over the last thirteen years."

"Me too," Durell said, "I don't know, you've pulled something out of me too. The way you make me feel..."

Kat smiled and put a finger over his lips. She didn't care by this point just how bad the physical body was. She had never felt this way about anyone else in her life. A.J. Durell, despite being a heavy smoking, physically injured, jaded man had something that she needed. He was himself with her, something that very few men had ever been for her.

"So what do we do next?" Kat asked him, "Where do we go from here?"

"That depends on Kahilainen," Durell said seriously, "It also depends on whether he can get Teri and the Ambassador out."

"You want another shot at Timonchenko, don't you?" Kat asked him, "I can see it in your eyes."

"I know instinctively that he isn't responsible directly for what happened to Teri," Durell said, "And I'm the one who had to pull the trigger on Mike. But if he hadn't been here, we probably would have slipped out of the country before we got involved with it."

"But you still want your shot," Kat sighed, "I swear, boys and their grudges."

"He's the one who is responsible for my knees being this bad," Durell said, "Though I shouldn't complain too much. I pumped two bullets into him right after he did it."

"Sounds like he has much reason to hate you," Kat said, "But you are in no shape to go against him directly."

"I'm hoping to avoid a direct confrontation," Durell said, "Though I wouldn't mind getting in rifle range..."

"You might be able to do it," Kat nodded, "But will it be worth it?"

"I don't know," Durell sighed, "It doesn't matter right now though."

"Why's that?" Kat asked him, looking into his eyes, "Cause there is nothing you can do about it now?"

"Because I have one of the prettiest women on the planet curled up with me right now," Durell smiled, "What is the point of fighting for anything if you don't have something to come home to?"

"I bet you say that to all the girls," Kat giggled, "So what are you in the shape for?"

"A little kissing and a lot of forgetting about what we've been dealing with," Durell said, "Not sure my knees can handle anything more than that."

"I don't know," Kat smiled and kissed him quickly, "I think I might be able to work around that, if you're willing to let me try."

"It is true what they say you know," Durell grinned, "Violence does make you horny."

"Well," Kat said, "I'm all for making sure those old sayings remain the truth, especially in this case."

"No argument from me, I assure you," Durell agreed as he kissed her, "It is one of the best sayings I've known for a long time..."

# Book III Insurrection

## Chapter 50

Durell was the first one awake in the morning, something that surprised him more than anyone else. Kat had spent a good portion of the night trembling and had a few of the expected nightmares, so when she had finally fallen hard asleep Durell was not about to move her. He quietly pulled himself out of bed and put an ace bandage on each knee before putting on the same clothes he had worn the day before.

He walked out the door into the medical center itself. There was one doctor left on duty, the same one who had been there when he and Kat had been checked out the night before. Durell tapped on his desk, startling the young doctor.

"Morning," Durell said in Finnish, "I take it nothing untoward happened overnight?"

"The riots are still going on in Helsinki," the doctor said, "Nothing particularly new here."

"How about Teri?" Durell asked him, "Anything new?"

"She is out of surgery," the doctor said, "I don't know her condition. They kept her upstairs."

"Is anyone up there?" Durell asked him, "I'd like to get a status on her."

"The nurses should be," the doctor said, "I've been catching some much needed sleep."

"Go on back to it," Durell nodded, "I wish I could manage more."

The doctor grunted and curled back up on the cot. Durell walked over and grunted his way up the stairs, feeling every step send a new wave of pain through his body. It was obvious how bad it was on him because when a nurse finally saw him she rushed over to help him out.

"Let me find you a doctor!" the nurse gushed in Finnish, "Where are you injured?"

"I'm ok," Durell said, "Bad knees and stairs don't go together. I was told that you had one of my people here."

"People?" the nurse said, "You are here for the girl?"

"Teri is one of mine," Durell nodded, "How is she?"

"She spent most of the night in surgery," the nurse said, "Those animals did a number on her."

"I know," Durell nodded, "They won't be doing it to anyone else."

"Good," the nurse said, "Let me wake one of the doctors. They can explain what went on."

"Ok," Durell agreed, "I'll be here."

Durell looked around and remembered the last time he had been in a hospital like this. It was when his first real girlfriend after his time in Czechoslovakia had died of a cerebral aneurysm. Kara's death had shaken him badly, in some ways directing him to the point in his life that he started doing what he currently did for a living.

The surgeon, a very haggard looking man in his early fifties, walked into the area. He looked Durell up and down and briefly considered whether the man in front of him was a patient, but remembered in his sleep-deprived mind what the nurse had told him. The nurse handed the doctor Teri's chart and he perused it for a moment to remember what he had done.

"You look about as lousy as I feel," Durell told him in Finnish, "Sorry I had to wake you, but I need to know how Teri is."

"She's a sick young woman," the doctor said, "I spent several hours inside of her guts last night repairing what those animals did to her."

"What did you have to do?" Durell asked him, "I knew she was hurt, but I had no way of telling how bad."

"There were the usual rape injuries," the doctor said, "Vaginal tearing, scarring and the like. Nasty, but the beating she took while they were doing it to her was what caused the really nasty problems."

"Internal hemorrhaging?" Durell wondered.

"Ruptured spleen," the doctor said, "One of her kidneys shut down, her uterus was mashed into a pulp along with most other areas. I had to do extensive rebuilding in a lot of that area."

"I'm glad we got her to you," Durell told him, "What is the permanent damage going to be?"

"The usual psychological damage of course," the doctor said, "She's never going to bear children. There was too much damage for that. She lost a kidney, but she can live with one. She'll physically be able to recover, but it will be a long process."

"Son of a bitch," Durell said in English before switching back to Finnish, "How soon before she can be moved?"

"At least a day," the doctor said, "She'll be off her feet for a few months, however."

"I'm going to try to arrange evacuation," Durell said, "Not that I question your care, I just want to get her out of the battle zone."

"I understand," the doctor nodded, "It will take you at least a day to arrange that, maybe more. By that point she should be stable enough to move."

"Ok," Durell nodded, "Thanks."

"One question," the doctor said before he left, "What is with the kid sitting outside the Ambassador's room? He's been there all night and doesn't understand what we say."

"He's a marine," Durell said, "The last of Ambassador Shearer's guards."

"The Ambassador is safe here," the doctor said, "The kid looks beat."

"I'll talk to him," Durell promised, "Is the ambassador awake? I want to talk to him too."

"Last I knew," the doctor said, "I think I'm going to go back to sleep."

"Thanks again," Durell nodded, "It's going to be another long day."

The doctor departed and Durell walked down the hallway, finding Mark sitting half-awake on the floor in front of the Ambassador's room. Durell nudged him and the young marine sat up and flashed a salute at Durell.

"You took my instructions a bit too literally, Copeland," Durell said, "The doctor told me that you wouldn't go to bed."

"My job is the ambassador," Mark said, "I take it seriously."

"He's safe here," Durell told him, "We're among friends. General Kahilainen is one of the good guys."

"If you say so sir," Mark said, "What are we going to do next?"

"You're going to get some sleep," Durell said, "There's a bed in the next room. Go ahead and take it. You've done your bit for now."

"What are you going to do?" Mark asked him.

"I'm going to see if there's any way I can make Timonchenko and his people pay for what they did to us," Durell said, "I have an old score to settle with that scumbag anyway."

"If you need me let me know," Mark told him, "I lost a lot of good friends in that mess."

"Find me later," Durell said, "Either the Ambassador or I will have instructions for you."

"Will do," Mark nodded, "Thanks."

"You did your part," Durell reminded him, "No complaints from me."

"Thanks," Mark chuckled, "I think."

Durell watched the young man go into a room and find a bed. He was glad that Mark had survived relatively unscathed. If they all got out alive Durell figured he might make the man a job offer for when he got out of the military. With Mike and Timmy both dead he would need more muscle if he was to keep his business alive, especially with the additional damage to his knees.

Durell then walked into the ambassador's room. Ambassador Shearer was awake and staring at the wall until he looked up at Durell. He looked up at the man who had saved his bacon the night before and nodded at him.

"I see you made it through without a scratch," Shearer said, "You look fairly decent considering."

"Food and sleep will do that," Durell told him, "I just sent Mark to bed. He was still guarding your door."

"He's a good marine," Shearer nodded, "They all were."

"Not your fault," Durell said, "This whole mess was a complete cluster fuck from the get go."

"Finland was supposed to be a cakewalk assignment," Shearer said, "I mean it is usually a stable country. Bill said it was a reward for my service in his campaign."

"Nice reward," Durell chuckled, "You know the president well, right?"

"Well enough," Shearer nodded, "Why?"

"I want to know what he's going to do about this," Durell said, "And if his State department will fight it if I give some aid to the loyalists."

"I doubt they'll care," Shearer said, "In fact they'll probably encourage it. They would rather have Kahilainen's people restore the republic than see another hardline communist regime come back."

"Especially since it would destabilize Russia," Durell said, "Timonchenko is backing Paasilinna, probably with some heavy local level assistance. My guess is that Timonchenko's people want to use Finland as a base to push Russia back into a Communist state."

"Do you think it's possible Timonchenko is working alone?" Shearer asked him, "I mean... He was fired from the KGB wasn't he?"

"Men like him don't work on their own for the fun of it," Durell said, "He's not so much a believer as he is a parasite. He liked the system for the perks that it gave him. It's all about power for him."

"So what did you get in the game for?" Shearer asked him, "You don't look like the type that cares about power."

"Adventure, bravado, insanity," Durell shrugged, "Take your pick."

"I see," Shearer chuckled, "I don't know what else I can do to help."

"Kahilainen will probably find a way for you to call home," Durell said, "If he can do so and make arrangements to get out, I want you to do something for me."

"Anything I can?" Shearer said.

"Arrange to have Teri taken stateside too," Durell said, "The doctors spent hours on her last night. I'd like her out of the war zone."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Shearer nodded, "How is she?"

"She'll recover physically," Durell said, "I don't know about the rest of it."

"I'll see that she gets home," Shearer agreed, "What are you going to do?"

"Talk to Kahilainen," Durell said, "If he wants my help, I'll give it to him. If he doesn't, I may take Kat with me and evacuate with you when the time comes."

"He may want your help, but may be unable to take it at this point," Shearer said, "I've met Kahilainen a few times. He's no dummy, but his people are going to be touchy. They may just want you to clear out of the country."

"I can live with that as well," Durell said, "I've seen enough of this for a lifetime."

## Chapter 51

"Any developments overnight?" Timonchenko asked Paasilinna, "Problems, comments, anything?"

"I've managed to get control of the local police," Paasilinna said, "Amazing how a promised funding increase will cow people."

"Power is the key," Timonchenko nodded, "Give the peons the perception of power and they will keep you in power."

"A lesson that Kekkonen learned well," Paasilinna nodded, "Much as I hated him he was a master at it."

"That's a good lesson," Timonchenko agreed, "Learn from your enemies."

"What do you intend to do today?" Paasilinna said, "I don't want to get my people in your way."

"I'm going to have a chat with your president," Timonchenko told him, "He may well be the key to finding Kahilainen's people. We get them quelled and I can form the secret police force."

"I intend to have public trials," Paasilinna said, "I've got people working on the evidence for that."

"I won't stop you," Timonchenko said, "It looks promising so far. I will have to travel to Imatra to talk to Petrukin soon, but not today."

"Your men have been busy," Paasilinna said as he walked to the window, "My lists have been put to good use."

"I see that," Timonchenko nodded, "I have work to do. You have a country to solidify."

"I'm working on it," Paasilinna said, "Count on it."

Timonchenko nodded and left the room. He walked down the stairs and found his people gathering in the parking area. Ignatev was at the head of the group, still looking angry about what he had found out the night before. He was smoking an unfiltered Russian cigarette and pacing around the lot.

"Durell," Timonchenko said, "He's the only man I've ever seen cause that reaction in an agent."

"I want to kill him," Ignatev said, "But it is like the world has pulled up around his hole."

"I'm betting he is with the loyalists by now," Timonchenko said, "Paasilinna's people are doing well with getting control of the local elements. The only group I am worried about is the part of the army that General Kahilainen still controls. Durell worked with Kahilainen's people and probably hooked up with them last night after he killed Filatov."

"Any more good news?" Ignatev asked him, "Like they have gotten a nuke or something?"

"If they got nukes then the Americans might care," Timonchenko chuckled, "Right now things are going according to plan. The longer the west delays the better it is for us."

"You don't think we can make it work, do you?" Ignatev asked him, "The system collapsed once. Think we can avoid having it happen again?"

"I don't care," Timonchenko admitted, "Paasilinna is an old fool. Petrukin isn't one hell of a lot better. I'm here because it is all I know. The system doesn't matter, Ignatev. It's the methods that make the difference."

"I see," Ignatev nodded, "And Durell?"

"Find the rebels," Timonchenko smiled, "And we'll find him. He's a sucker for an underdog. He won't run home."

"Why not?" Ignatev said, "It isn't his fight."

"We've hurt his team," Timonchenko said, "It all started with the death of a friend of his back in Czechoslovakia. It ended with the deaths of over ten of my people and me taking two bullets in the gut."

"I guess he holds a grudge," Ignatev said, "Good. So do I. I went to academy with Filatov, we've been friends all our lives. I want Durell's head."

"And you will have it," Timonchenko promised, "Come with me. I think I know where to look."

## Chapter 52

"What are you going to do?" Kat asked Durell as they walked towards the building, "I thought we were going to get out of here."

"Timonchenko isn't going to let me leave easily," Durell told her, "I want another shot at that son of a bitch."

"It isn't personal, you know," Kat said, "You can barely walk. You aren't that much of a threat."

"As long as I'm alive he'll consider me a threat," Durell said, his voice like ice, "I would feel the same about him in his place."

"I'll never understand men," Kat sighed, "So what do we do?"

"We talk to Kahilainen," Durell said simply, "Most likely I'll be ruled out of field service anyway. I'll do more good with planning and strategy if they want me there at all."

"Now you are talking sense," Kat smiled, "I hope."

Durell tossed his cigarette in the snow before he entered the building. General Kahilainen and his people were already working on the plans when he entered. The General himself stood up and greeted Durell and his girl.

"How are you doing, Mr. Durell?" General Kahilainen asked them, "You look a bit better than you did last night."

"Amazing how much good a bit of sleep will do," Durell nodded, "I appreciate your hospitality."

"I just wish I could repay it longer," Kahilainen said, "As it is you may become a liability."

"Timonchenko wants me," Durell said, "As long as I'm with you there is danger."

"You see my dilemma," Kahilainen agreed, "Much as I would like to have your help your presence may anger my men as much as it would help at this point."

"I've got no objection to going home," Durell said, "Provided we have a way of getting out."

"Unfortunately we have another problem," Kat said, "The ambassador and Teri are both injured."

"I have one small plane available, an old prop plane from the continuation war," Kahilainen said, "It is usually used to scout with, but it won't do much good for this. We can use it to get Teri and the ambassador out."

"I saw it outside," Durell said, "That will get the injured ones out, that leaves Me, Kat and the Marine."

"I'll provide you with a jeep and papers," Kahilainen said, "You are a resourceful man. The three of you should be able to make it to the northern border."

"Not great," Durell said, "But beats being sitting ducks."

"Unfortunately it is now the best I can do," Kahilainen said, "If we'd gotten you here a few months ago..."

"My training wouldn't have done a damn thing on that," Durell said, "We'll stay here until Teri and the Ambassador are out of the country."

"I can live with that," Kahilainen nodded, "Thank you."

"Be sure someone gets Timonchenko," Durell smiled, "You can send his head me as a going away present."

"Yes indeed. Good luck, Mr. Durell," Kahilainen said, "We're all going to need it now."

## Chapter 53

"Our control is strengthening," Timonchenko told the old figurehead when they met later in the morning, "That was a masterful stroke, co-opting president Kitinoja into this. After his tough talk yesterday I never thought you'd be able to pull him in."

"Kahilainen's troops are the main problem right now," Paasilinna said, sidestepping that issue, "Though your band of idiots isn't helping matters much, especially with the American ambassador in Kahilainen's hands."

"Without my band of 'idiots'," Timonchenko said, trying not to seethe too much, "You would still be a forgotten import/export smuggler. Petrukin has put a lot of political capital behind you, which he expects to be repaid."

"I will not argue with you when you base people on our border," Paasilinna assured him, "Just remember that Finland is not Russia North. You don't run the show here."

"You still need us, Arto," Timonchenko reminded him, "Without us Kahilainen would crush you and restore the old republic."

"We need to crush them first," Paasilinna said, "Having control of the television stations is giving a major propaganda advantage."

"We lucked out on that part," Timonchenko agreed, "The loyalists were too slow in getting to the station."

"We need to end this soon," Paasilinna said, "The people are starting to get restless. Bringing in Kitinoja has given me some breathing room, but I would like to put the parliament back together soon. Unfortunately I don't dare to do so until we get Kahilainen's people out of the way."

"I have a plan for that," Timonchenko said, "Ignatev is working on that now."

"You finally got him to see past his hatred of Durell?" Paasilinna said, "I'm impressed."

"I merely used that hatred," Timonchenko smiled, "I can understand it, as I share it. I still ache in my stomach when I think about Durell. I will enjoy hanging his head in my eventual trophy room."

"Do what you will," Paasilinna said, hoping it would keep Timonchenko busy, "Just do it quickly. We are running out of time."

"I'm massing forces to put down the son of a bitch," Timonchenko said, "As soon as I get word from Ignatev we'll be starting the operation, possibly tonight."

"You have a Finn in mind to lead?" Paasilinna asked, "The general public still doesn't know about your Russians."

"I have one in mind," Timonchenko promised, "Ignatev will probably have operational control, but the Finn will be the one the public sees."

"Good," Paasilinna smiled, "Now that Kitinoja has seen the light we should be well on our way. I'll be forming the cabinet soon."

"Just be careful not to let him have too much power," Timonchenko warned, "The last thing we want is for him to give Kahilainen a chance to depose us."

"I've learned some lessons from Kekkonen," Paasilinna assured him, "If they fuck with me, I will destroy them."

"Good attitude," Timonchenko said, "Keep it up."

## Chapter 54

"I take it you weren't followed," Major Kurstot said, "If I'm seen with you we are both dead."

"I wasn't followed," Ignatev said, holding back his grumbling, "It wouldn't matter unless it was one of your people following me."

"My people are running around like chickens with their heads cut off," Kurstot told him, "I have to follow orders for now to be any use to you."

"Quite," Ignatev agreed, "Is Durell still at your camp?"

"Yes," Kurstot said, "That damned American is still there. Kahilainen has given him marching orders, but isn't enforcing them until after the injured Americans are airlifted out this afternoon."

"So have you made your choice?" Ignatev asked him, "Are you going to become a part of the future or are you going to hold on to the past."

"I want to go home," Kurstot said, "I've had enough of this military bullshit, but I don't want to lose my pension either."

"I'll guarantee you an upfront payment," Ignatev said, "You will also keep your pension for as long as we are in power. You'll even be famous as the great Finnish leader of the assault."

"Very well," Kurstot said, "How soon do you want to do this?"

"Where is Durell staying?" Ignatev asked him, "He is the top priority."

"At our camp," Kurstot said, "Usually under guard. He and that whore who shares his bed have one of the rearmost huts."

"Less likely to blow if we bomb them," Ignatev explained, "I want information on where."

"I can get it," Kurstot said, "How soon do you want to go in?"

"Tonight," Ignatev said, "I need maps of the place and dimensions. We also need a way in that won't cause attention."

"I have a group that is fed up with Kahilainen and the way our country is run," Kurstot said, "They leave the more mundane security matters to me. I will have them on the gates to let you in. If you come in the front while Durell is sleeping you should be able to take him quickly."

"Very well," Ignatev said, "Go back to the camp and get ready. I will meet you here this evening. We'll go in at midnight, take the leaders and let the hardcore partisans flounder in the field."

## Chapter 55

Durell and Kat walked towards the hospital again. He wasn't particularly surprised at the General's handling of the situation, but he still wished for a chance to go after Timonchenko.

"This is a good thing, isn't it?" Kat asked him, "I mean... Don't you think it is?"

"I do and I don't," Durell told her, "I'd love to catch up to Timonchenko and put a bullet in his head."

"Someone will do that eventually," Kat said, "I'd prefer to get to safety, you know?"

"I know," Durell said, "Let's go talk to the Ambassador. Looks like you, me and the Marine will be heading north soon."

"Not soon enough," Kat smiled.

Durell chuckled and finished his cigarette before they went into the hospital. Mark Copeland was sitting in the waiting room chowing down on a MRE. He started to sit up when Durell waved him down.

"Go ahead and finish eating," Durell said, "I'm going to talk to the Ambassador. Looks like we'll be trying to get out of the country soon."

"I can live with that." Mark said, "How?"

"I don't know yet," Durell said, "As soon as I do, you will."

"I'll wait here," Copeland said, nodding, "Nothing else for me to do here."

"It'll be a waiting game for all of us," Durell said, "Kick back and relax, it may be your last chance before we get out of here."

Copeland nodded and worked on finishing his food. Durell walked into the main hospital area and found the room that the Ambassador had been in last night.

Derek Shearer was awake and poking at some of the hospital food that had been put in front of him. His face had color again and he looked a lot better than he had when he'd been brought into the hospital.

"You're looking better, Ambassador," Durell said, "You ready to get out of here?"

"They have a way out?" Shearer asked, "Nobody has told me squat yet."

"Kahilainen has a small airplane that will be able to bring you over to Sweden," Durell explained, "Only room for three though. Two passengers and a pilot."

"I take it that you aren't a pilot," Shearer said, "And neither am I."

"You and Teri will be taking the plane," Durell said, "I'll keep Copeland with me and the three of us will head overland to one of the other Scandinavian countries."

"State would tell me to take Copeland with me," Shearer said, "But I know better. Your girl is injured badly, isn't she?"

"The doctors here are good," Durell said, "But she needs out of this danger zone."

"I'll make sure she gets good care," Shearer said, "You're not staying to help?"

"Kahilainen gave me my walking papers," Durell said, "Just like you suspected."

"Too touchy to have another foreigner in the mix," Shearer nodded, "I'll make sure that the border guards for both countries know that you are to be escorted to the nearest embassy when you make it there."

"I'd appreciate that," Durell said, "If you see Matti Roto when you go back to DC kick him in the nuts for me too, ok?"

"I'll see what I can do," Shearer chuckled, "Thanks for getting me out of there, Durell."

"If I remember correctly I was just as fucked as you," Durell reminded him, "Don't worry about it. Make sure that Kat has an American visa when I get her out and all will be good."

"I should be able to manage that too," Shearer said, "I'll make use of the secure phone when I get to Stockholm."

"I'm going to go see if Teri is awake," Durell said, "That plane will probably take off at dusk. You'll want to be ready."

"I will be," Shearer said, "No problems there."

## Chapter 56

Colonel Kurstot walked into the depot with a sense of foreboding. He knew he was committing treason to the people he had worked with, but he felt that it was his only way to get out of this with his life. He looked around and saw Ignatev, who waved him over.

"You ready for this, Kurstot?" Ignatev asked him, "You're going to be leading the group."

"Why me?" Kurstot asked, "You're the one putting it together."

"It will look better if a Finn leads," Ignatev said, "I'll be there to keep things together, but you will be the front that people see."

"I see," Kurstot nodded, "So long as we catch Durell and the general first."

"I have every intention of taking them quick," Ignatev smiled, "Just make sure that if you shoot first they die. Durell won't be slipping out of our hands again."

"That I can promise you," Kurstot agreed, "That arrogant American is going down."

"I hope so," Ignatev said, "Anything I need to know?"

"Morale is really low," Kurstot told him, "But they all love General Kahilainen. It would be best not to take Kahilainen publicly if you want to keep resistance down."

"What about Durell?" Ignatev said, "Does anyone have an opinion on him?"

"He's too new," Kurstot shrugged, "They all respect him. I don't like him either, but it would be best to get them off the base grounds before shooting them."

"Just so long as he's dead," Ignatev grumbled, "Get to know your crew. We'll go in at 3am when most everyone is sleeping."

## Chapter 57

Durell watched as the sun started to go down. He smoked a cigarette as the stretcher carrying Teri was brought out to the small airstrip. General Kahilainen was watching as well and shaking his head.

"I'm sorry it had to end like this, Durell," Kahilainen said, "When are you planning on leaving?"

"Mark, Kat and I will take the jeep and head out in the morning," Durell said, "Kat knows the terrain fairly well and Shearer should have our entrance covered at the border."

"Ok," Kahilainen nodded, "I'm going to initiate contact with the Paasilinna faction soon. I'm still hoping to avert a civil war."

"If Timonchenko is involved prepare to give up a testicle," Durell said, "He'll be out for blood."

"It is my hope that Timonchenko will be pushed out of the picture," Kahilainen said, "And I'm still sitting in a strong position."

"I hope you're right," Durell said, "I just hope that I'm not here to deal with the aftermath."

Kat and Mark walked out with the stretcher as they started to load Teri into the back seat of the plane. Kat bent over to listen to Teri and then waved for Durell to come over.

"Looks like I'm wanted," Durell said.

Kahilainen nodded and watched Durell walk over to the plane's entrance, tossing his cigarette out in the snow. Teri was awake and looking for her boss.

"I'm sorry, A.J.," Teri said, "We all should be going out of here."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Durell assured her, gripping her hand, "Nobody expected this to happen. Ambassador Shearer will see that you get good medical care in Sweden. We'll be there in a few days."

"How are you getting there?" Teri asked him, "I mean..."

"We're driving," Durell said, "You'll see us in a jiffy, I promise."

"Ok," Teri said, "You'd better get there."

"Take it easy Teri," Durell told her, "Take care of her, Derek."

"Will do," Shearer said, "Let's get out of here."

They closed up the plane and the pilot taxied out on to the runway.

"Let's get our stuff ready," Durell said, "I want to get out of here at first light."

## Chapter 58

"Ignatev is set to lead a group to take Kahilainen's camp," Timonchenko told Paasilinna, "Durell is there as well. We might make a clean sweep of it."

"Don't let them waste too much time on him," Paasilinna warned, "Kahilainen still has a lot of respect here. We need him neutralized fast. Should have done it at the beginning."

"We tried," Timonchenko said, then threw a barb at Paasilinna's people "Our intel on him wasn't as good as it should have been. Evidently he had a mistress."

"How did you find him?" Paasilinna asked, "He is a crafty old bastard."

"One of his officers doesn't like him much," Timonchenko smiled, "A Major Kurstot had a conversation with Ignatev this afternoon."

"I hope you're giving him a suitable reward," Paasilinna said, "We need men like him."

"He'll be the Finn lead on the mission," Timonchenko said, "They have instructions to eliminate both Durell and Kahilainen quickly."

"I'd thought you would want to play with him some more," Paasilinna said, "Seeing as you clench every time you mention him."

"No more games," Timonchenko said, "Durell will die this time. I made the mistake of listening to Petrukin when he wanted to trade Durell to the FSB."

"Just keep yourself low key," Paasilinna said, "I don't need to explain this out."

"We've got control of the press," Timonchenko reminded him, "General Kahilainen will have a heart attack in custody. A nine millimeter heart attack."

"All right," Paasilinna said, "I've got to meet with Kitinoja and work out the details of the new government."

"I'll be back in an hour," Timonchenko said, "I want to be there for that one."

"We'll hold the main part of it for you," Paasilinna said, "Where are you going?"

"I'm doing a double check on the YLE station," Timonchenko told him, "I want to make sure the news goes out as we need it right now."

"Of course," Paasilinna agreed, "We'll wait."

Timonchenko left the room and Paasilinna waited for him to leave the building before going in to see Kitinoja. The sitting president of the Finnish republic was sitting at his desk and breathing a sigh of relief.

"He's useful," Kitinoja said, "But his methods are a bit bullish."

"He's getting rid of the opposition," Paasilinna said, "That's useful in itself."

"We just have to watch out," Kitinoja told him, "Keep him on a leash. If he figures out that we planned this from the beginning he might turn on us."

"Once he's taken care of Kahilainen we'll let him take care of the opposition party," Paasilinna said, "Once we get our people in place we can use him as the scapegoat."

"I like the sound of that," Kitinoja said, "By the way, that was good acting yesterday. Timonchenko really bought that you wanted to kill me."

"I still might," Paasilinna grinned, "Give me time."

"Later," Kitinoja told him, "Let's get our game faces on and figure out what to do next..."

## Chapter 59

"You can cut the tension in this place like a knife," Mark told Kat and A.J., "I don't speak a word of Finnish and I can see it."

"That's why we're getting out of here," Durell told them, "Teri and the Ambassador are out of the way, so that leaves us."

"What are we doing?" Kat asked, "I am included in this, right?"

"I was hoping you'd want to come with me," Durell told her, "I mean, I can't make you leave everything..."

"I have nothing," Kat reminded him, "My apartment burned down and I have only about a hundred Markkas in the bank. I let my insurance lapse months ago."

"You can crash with me when we get to the states," Durell smiled, "I take it you want to get out of here too, Mark?"

"I'll follow you," Mark told him, "I'd get lost in an hour without help."

"General Kahilainen is going to provide us with a jeep and a bit of traveling cash," Durell said, "I'm thinking we'll head north and make a crossing at one of the less patrolled border stations."

"Sweden, I assume?" Kat said, "Since that's where Teri and the Ambassador are?"

"That would be ideal," Durell agreed, "Know that part of the country?"

"I've been north a few times," Kat nodded, "We should be able to slip out. I speak Swedish, so if we have to make our way down to Stockholm we shouldn't have any real trouble."

"Once we're over the border we can demand to be talk to an embassy representative," Mark said, "Unless you think Timonchenko's people hold sway over there?"

"Should be safe," Durell said, "We'll worry about that after we get out of Finland."

"Finland should be reasonably safe after we get away from the Helsinki area," Kat reminded them, "Paasilinna hasn't had time to consolidate anywhere else. It'll be weeks before things sort themselves out."

"By which time we'll be on a first class flight back to the states from Sweden," Durell said hopefully, "Kat, should we leave now or in the morning?"

"I can't navigate this area without seeing it," Kat said, "I suggest waiting."

"We'll leave first thing," Durell said, "I take it you can be ready, Mark."

"I think we need to stand watch," Mark said, "I don't feel safe here."

"Neither do I," Durell agreed, "I'll take the first watch, Kat the second and you the third."

"Why don't I take it all?" Mark asked them, "I'm going to be useless driving anyway. I might as well sleep in the jeep."

"He's got a point," Kat said, "Even if you're driving I'm going to have to navigate."

"I guess we can do that," Durell nodded, smiling a little at the way they were starting to click as a team, "Let's get some rest. I want to get out of this place at daybreak."

"I'll go over to the mess hall and get some coffee," Mark said, "It'll be a long night."

"The word for coffee is kahvi," Kat told him, "Say 'Kahvi avulla lypsää ja sokeroida' for Coffee with Milk and Sugar."

Mark repeated the phrase phonetically a few times and then headed off, leaving A.J. and Kat alone in the room that they had taken in a building near the back of the complex.

"What do you think?" Durell asked her, "Think you're ready for this?"

"Been ready," Kat smiled, "Most girls have to wait for a lifetime for a date like this."

"It isn't over yet," Durell said, "I'll believe we're safe when we get the hell out of Finland."

"I wish I could show you some of the more beautiful sights," Kat sighed, "It really is a pretty country."

"Maybe someday," Durell said, "I think we need to get out of here now."

"I agree," Kat said, sitting down with him, "Just so long as I get to follow you."

"That I can promise," Durell smiled, "Let's get some sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

## Chapter 60

"It's nearly 3am," Ignatev told Kurstot as he looked at his watch, "Are you ready to lead this?"

"Yep," Kurstot nodded, though he was feeling a few pangs of regret, "What do we do first?"

"My people will round up the General," Ignatev said, "You will give your instructions to people and point the way to Durell. I'll be making sure he doesn't cause anymore trouble."

"And if he bolts?" Kurstot asked him.

"Chase him down," Ignatev said coldly, "Just make sure that if you kill him you make it hurt."

## Chapter 61

Mark walked around a bit to keep himself warm. He hated playing a simple guard, but the logic made sense. His knowledge of Finnish and Swedish was minimal at best, though he had picked up enough to get himself in trouble. He chuckled at the memory of the young woman he picked up at a bar a month before the revolution turned his life upside down.

He cracked his neck and looked up at the full moon. He hated full moons, nothing good ever came from them. The fiasco that had sent him into the army had happened on a full moon as well.

He looked at the base that had been home for the previous days and wondered what would happen to all the people here once Durell took his people out of there.

Mark considered walking outside the base, but knew better. He was about to go sit down on the bench outside the building when he saw motion outside the base. He picked up his set of binoculars and flipped on the infrared mode. Looking outside the base he saw several trucks and a few jeeps, none of which should have been there. Standing up in one of the jeeps Mark recognized as Major Kurstot, who was talking to someone and pointing at the base.

"Fuck," Mark said, "Kurstot sold us out!"

He ran like a bullet towards the building and burst in the door. Durell looked up at Mark, half waking up. Kat groaned and pulled the covers over her eyes as she curled against Durell's body. The days of half sleeping had been affecting them both so Durell did not wake up quite as quickly as he normally would.

"Kurstot is with a force outside the gates," Mark told him, "I think he sold us out."

"Shit," Durell grumbled, "You sure it is Kurstot?"

"Can't miss that ugly face," Mark said, "Want to look?"

"Get up," Durell instructed Kat, "We're getting the hell out of here before the shit goes down."

"Yep," Kat nodded, "Getting dressed."

Kat gingerly pulled herself up, though Durell flying out of bed and putting on his clothes quickly pushed her to move a bit more. Mark quickly moved to get the packs that they had prepared for departing. There was no talk of helping to defend the base. With the defection of Kurstot it was a matter of minutes before it was going to fall.

"What do we do?" Mark asked, "Stay and fight or do we run?"

"No point," Durell said, "Morale is so bad here they'll surrender as soon as the first shot is fired. We stay here and we're dead."

"Then I suggest we leave," Kat said, "Like now?"

"Get the jeep started," Durell instructed Mark, "We'll be out in a minute."

Unfortunately they did not have a minute, because the bullets started flying and the final attack started. Kat threw on her boots as Durell took his weapon and headed outside. The attack was coming in right through the front and it was going quickly. As Durell had predicted, surrenders were coming fast and furious.

"Come on!" Mark yelled, "Let's get out of here!"

Kurstot saw the Jeep and fired a few rounds at it, which Mark barely dodged. Durell fired a few back, providing cover as Kat dove into the back of the Jeep. Mark ducked down and drove the jeep over, with Durell hopping into the passenger side.

"Go through the fence," Durell shouted at Mark, "If they want us they'll chase. If they want the base we'll get out!"

"Roger!" Mark agreed and did a 180.

He paused for a moment and then put the pedal to the metal and went ramming speed into the fence. Durell got into crash position and prayed that they had enough speed to make it through the thick chain link fence. Kat curled up in a ball and said a few long forgotten prayers as the speed worked up.

"Ramming speed!" Mark yelled gleefully as they ran head on into that fence.

It was a remarkable sight, watching the Jeep burst through the barrier, shattering most of the glass in the jeep and causing Durell to knock his head against the side, dazing him. Kat was protected by the seats and suffered no ill effects. Mark endured a few cuts, but the adrenalin kept him alert and he continued off into the snow.

"That was Durell!" Kurstot yelled to Ignatev, "What do we do?"

"Go get him!" Ignatev told him, "Don't let him get away!"

## Chapter 62

"This was not particularly well thought out," Durell said, "Damned Kurstot. Why the hell couldn't they have waited another day?"

"What do we do?" Kat asked them, "Can we get away from them?"

"I don't know," Durell said, "How is this thing doing on gas?"

"It's doing badly," Mark said, "I can't read the gauge correctly, but I'm dead certain that it isn't supposed to be going down that fast."

"We're losing gas in the back," Kat said, "Not fast, probably a knick in the line."

"Kurstot and his people are following us as well," Durell said, "This is definitely not good."

Mark kept driving as fast as he could, but the older jeep was no match for the newer off road vehicle that Kurstot and his people were driving. Durell fired a few shots at them, but his weapon was underpowered.

"We're not going to make it," Mark yelled, "This vehicle is not going to last long enough to outrun them."

"Head north!" Kat yelled, "There's a ravine a mile or so from here. I used to play there as a child. I doubt Kurstot will know enough about the area to find it."

"Do it!" Durell instructed, "Kat... is there a gas can back there?"

"I put one there," Mark said, "Filled it myself, just in case."

"Find a rag," Durell said, "Give me the can, Kat."

Kat handed it up over the seat. Mark kept the jeep running at full speed, pulling driving maneuvers in the trees to keep Kurstot at bay while Durell came up with an industrial sized Molotov cocktail. Kurstot pressed as hard as he could, but could not get close, as they were not as good at driving in the snow.

Durell dipped the cloth Kat handed him into the gasoline and got it good and wet. He climbed into the back of the Jeep and warmed his hands in his pockets for a moment. Kat looked at him and wondered just what he had in mind to get them out of this mess.

"Get in the front," Durell yelled, "I can throw farther than you and if it blows early no need for it to get us both!"

Kat nodded and climbed in the front seat. Durell got in position and made sure he was solid. He picked up the gas can and hefted it a little. He looked at the following vehicle and smiled at the two men who were chasing him. He raised his middle finger and waved it defiantly at them.

"Drive straight," Durell shouted, "Let them get closer!"

Mark grunted and followed Durell's instructions, slowing down a little. Kurstot saw the maneuver and didn't know what the hell Durell was up to. He looked at the driver and shrugged his shoulders.

"What the hell is he doing?" the driver asked, "What is that in his hand?"

"Paska!" Kurstot yelled, "Molotov!"

Durell lit the gasoline-covered rag and let it catch well enough. He heaved it in the air and his aim was true, the can landing and exploding on the hood of the all terrain vehicle. The Driver jammed the brakes while Kurstot dove out the side of the vehicle. The driver was not far behind, tumbling in the snow.

"Yeah!" Durell shouted, "Take that, motherfucker!"

"Hold on!" Mark yelled, "Big dip!"

Mark tried to stop the vehicle but the snow worked against him. They went into a slide and the jeep went up into the air. Mark tried to stamp on the brake again, but accidentally hit the gas, sending the jeep lurching forward. Durell, who was the most precariously positioned, flipped backwards out of the jeep and landed flat on his back in the snow.

"Shit!" Mark screamed.

The Jeep flew a few feet until the bumper caught a rock, flipping it up and rocketing Kat and Mark out and across the upcoming ravine. The jeep itself did a few more flips until it cracked what was left of the gas tank and set it to explode into the far side of the ravine.

## Chapter 63

"That was nice," Kurstot grumbled as he brushed snow off himself, "Driver!"

"I'm here," the driver said, "The vehicle is a total loss though."

"I can see that," Kurstot said, "You have a radio on you?"

"I just called in," the driver said, "Another unit will be here in a few minutes. Should we check for survivors?"

"Yeah," Kurstot nodded, pulling a pack of Russian cigarettes out and lighting one, "I want to make sure the son of a bitch is dead."

The driver pulled out his sidearm and walked over towards the edge of the ravine. He walked near the edge and looked over, seeing the remains of the Jeep he figured that the occupants were most likely dead. He walked back over to Kurstot, who looked on with satisfaction.

"Good," Kurstot said, "Serves them right."

The driver merely nodded. Kurstot watched the remaining flames as he finished his cigarette. He smiled and tossed the cigarette on the ground into some of the ground up snow, managing to land it on Durell's half-exposed neck. His groaning at this caused Kurstot to look over.

"It's Durell!" the driver exclaimed, "He's still alive!"

"Pull him out!" Kurstot instructed, "Ignatev will want him if we can keep him bundled up."

"No problem," the driver said, "He looks half dead."

"Too bad he's not all dead," Kurstot grunted, "Let's get him."

The two men dragged A.J. Durell out from the snow. He was alive and relatively uninjured considering the fall he took. He was not anywhere near coherent when they dragged him out of the snow, however.

"Maybe he'll get lucky and he'll die before we can shoot him," the driver said, "He looks like he's in lousy shape."

"There's our ride," Kurstot said, "He'll live long enough. He's too damned stubborn to die otherwise."

All Durell could do was groan.

## Chapter 64

"A.J.!" Mark said loudly, "Kat!"

"I'm here," Kat mumbled, "You are a miserable driver..."

Mark pulled himself out of the snow and growled at the lack of usefulness in his left arm. He knew it was broken in at least two places and let it hang down at his side as he tried to regain his balance.

"Where's A.J.?" Mark said, "Did you see where he went?"

"I think he flipped out the back," Kat said, "Right after Kurstot's car blew up."

"He's probably on the other side of the Ravine," Mark nodded as he followed her voice, "Are you hurt?"

"I think I cracked a couple ribs," Kat said, "I can move and I don't feel much else screaming, though I hurt all over."

"Thank god for winter," Mark mumbled as he found her, "Need help?"

"I could use some balance," Kat said, holding out her arm, "You ok?"

"My arm is broken," Mark said, giving her the good one, "Hurts like hell too."

"Let's go find A.J.," Kat said, "Think Kurstot is still out there?"

"I doubt it," Mark shook his head as he looked down the ravine, "He probably thought we died in the crash if he survived his own."

"We couldn't get that lucky," Kat mumbled as she winced, "Are you still armed?"

"I've got a sidearm," Mark nodded, "The rifles probably went up in the crash."

"Let's go see if A.J. is still alive," Kat said, "Are you up to a walk?"

"I can walk," Mark said, "My left arm is broken in at least two places so I can't climb."

"I know this area," Kat said, "That's why I had A.J. come this way. I used to cross country ski along this ravine. There is a bridge about a quarter mile from here on the road."

"Help me bind this arm so it isn't flopping around," Mark said, motioning at his broken arm, "Then we'll go to the bridge."

Kat nodded and took her extra scarf out and tied it as a makeshift sling. She then helped Mark move his left arm into a more comfortable position, securing it in place with her scarf and his scarf.

"You'd make a good battlefield nurse," Mark said, "Good positioning."

"Thanks," Kat said, "I assume that's a good thing."

"Let's get over to the other side," Mark told her, "And yes, it is a good thing. We need to find out what happened to A.J. and then get out of here before Kurstot sends someone out for the wreckage and our bodies."

"Right," Kat nodded, "Sounds like a plan to me."

Both of them were sore as they walked nearly a mile round trip. Their bodies had taken a nasty beating in the crash and were telling them just how bad it had been. When they got to the crash site both of them were dead tired and ready to collapse.

"We're back," Kat said, "Looks like there was a bit of foot traffic over here. How long were we out?"

"Close to an hour, according to my watch," Mark said, "Probably a good thing, all told."

"For us," Kat said, "Not for A.J. Look over by the tire tracks."

There was a bit of snow in the shape of a body, right about the same size as Durell's form. There were also a few tracks around it showing that the body had been pulled out roughly. Kat whimpered a little bit as they followed them.

"He's gone..." Kat said, "Those bastards..."

"He's not dead," Mark said as they followed for a bit, "Look towards the tire tracks."

The third set of tire tracks started to shift a bit, and moved to half steps. This is something that does not happen if a dead person is being dragged, but can happen if a living and injured person is being dragged roughly. There were also drops of blood in irregular patterns that showed that it was from active bleeding, not post-mortem drip.

"He's alive, but in custody," Mark told her, "Meaning he may not be alive for long."

"We've got to get him back," Kat told him, "We can't leave him in their hands. They'll kill him for sure."

"We go back and they'll kill us," Mark said, "We're two people, both injured, and they have an army."

"You know he'd go back for us," Kat reminded him, "Besides, we would die of exposure if we tried to leave on foot. Better to get killed trying to rescue him than just dying in a quixotic attempt at escape."

"You really love him, don't you?" Mark asked her, "Despite his gruff exterior."

"He's the only person who has ever treated me as an equal," Kat said, "Never talks down to me and likes me for who I am, not just how I look."

"I can see that," Mark nodded, "Ok. It's insane, but we'll make an attempt. Besides, without one of you I'm dead anyway. I don't speak a lick of Finnish and couldn't read the friggen maps even had they survived the crash."

"Come on," Kat said, "We're probably less than an hour's walk away from the base. If he's alive they will be contacting Timonchenko before they think about killing him."

"That's if Timonchenko isn't already there," Mark reminded her, "I caught sight of Ignatev and that means the Russians were in on it."

"A.J. told me some of the stories from Czechoslovakia," Kat said, "Timonchenko is a coward who hid behind the power of the state. Men like that don't go on raids, they send others to do it and go to the site when its all clear and the bodies are picked up."

"You have been listening to your boyfriend too much," Mark chuckled as they walked, "He is a treasure trove of that type of knowledge though."

"That's what makes him good at it," Kat nodded, "I've only worked with him a little over a week on this and I've seen how he reads people."

"I bet it beats guard duty,' Mark agreed, "This is the most interesting thing I've done, though all things being equal at this point I would have stayed in the city."

"Why did you end up in the army?" Kat asked him, "I never did learn much about your story."

"I didn't have much choice," Mark shrugged, "It was either get out or I would have had some other problems. I was going nowhere there and decided that the army would be a good way to get some decent training and to get some college paid for."

"I just realized," Kat said, "I don't even know your last name!"

"Copeland," Mark said, "You never asked, though I think Durell knows."

"Surely there must have been some other reason," Kat said, "I mean, you don't look like the type that enjoys following orders."

"I'm not," Mark chuckled, "But the operation I was running before I joined the army wasn't particularly legal. The cops never did get enough on me to connect me to it, but after Tracy got herself killed and Claire was arrested... Well... I was pretty much told that if I didn't move on they would investigate harder and try to find something else on me."

"What were you doing?" Kat asked him, "I mean there's no harm in telling me out here now."

"We were vigilantes," Mark said directly, "We killed human scum trying to clean up the streets a little."

"Were you at least good at it?" Kat asked him, taken aback a little now, "I'm not sure what to say about that one."

"It's ok," Mark chuckled, "I have no shame over it. Most of the people whose lives we ended deserved it. Not sure I'd do it again like that, but I have no regrets."

"So it was you and Tracy?" Kat asked him, "What happened to her?"

"She was killed on our last mission," Mark told her, "Claire, my girlfriend and the third partner, barely got out alive. I was working a sniper rifle a few hundred yards away when the police got her."

"What happened to her?" Kat wondered, "You obviously got out but you said she had been arrested."

"She refused to roll over on me," Mark replied, "They didn't have any physical evidence on me for the killings. The local police weren't willing to push too hard because the victims were people that the world was better off without. They gave Claire a sweetheart of a deal and a suggestion to me that I get the hell out of dodge before they had to come up with anything else."

"So you end up where your skills are actually appreciated," Kat chuckled, "Nice."

"You got it," Mark nodded, "Claire will be out in a few years. I'm hoping to meet up with her again and live a life that we don't have to be on the run for."

"With your skills I bet A.J. will want both of you," Kat said, "Provided he's still alive and that we live through this."

"More interesting than guard duty," Mark chuckled, "That's for sure."

"We've got some walking to do," Kat said, "Let's get to it, shall we?"

## Chapter 65

"How does it feel to be a traitor, Kurstot?" Durell asked him from his position on the floor, "To betray everyone who ever trusted you?

"I'm a patriot," Kurstot said, "Ignatev works for the constitutional government headed by Arto Paasilinna."

"You mean the sham government that Paasilinna took by force," General Kahilainen chuckled, "He's a Russian puppet, run by Timonchenko and the Soviet hardliners he works for."

"The old way wasn't working," Kurstot shrugged, "It's time for a change. Since the government wouldn't change itself, someone had to do it for them."

"Keep telling yourself that," Durell said, "Watch as they try to take over and take your rights away one by one. That's how men like them work."

"Shut up," Kurstot said, "We need to figure out what to do with them.."

"Shoot them" Ignatev said, "No more screwing around."

"If you shoot them here there will be a major uproar," Kurstot said, "We have control, but just barely."

"Come on," Ignatev said, growling, "I want you there when I talk to Timonchenko. You should have shot him when you found him."

Durell watched while they left the room and then turned to General Kahilainen. The older general looked sunken in his cheeks and had aged several years in the hours since Durell had seen him last. Kahilainen's internal spark had dimmed considerably now that he knew his defeat and probably his death was at hand.

"I thought I told you to run," Kahilainen said, "I guess you didn't run fast enough."

"Mark crashed the jeep," Durell said, "I don't know if they survived or not."

"Better that they died in the crash," Kahilainen mumbled, "You know we're dead men."

"Timonchenko may want to see me first," Durell said, "Maybe they will make a mistake."

"Ever the optimist," Kahilainen grumbled, "I don't fear it anymore. At least I won't have to live in Paasilinna's world."

"Don't buy trouble, General," Durell told him, "It'll come soon enough without encouraging it any."

"They'll bring us off base and shoot us," Kahilainen said, "They won't risk doing it here."

"Morale was so bad that some of them might watch and enjoy," Durell reminded him, "Notice that Kurstot pretty well walked in and took control."

"Don't get me started on him," Kahilainen grumbled, "I have words for..."

The opening door interrupted Kahilainen as Ignatev and Kurstot came into the room again. Durell looked up defiantly, ignoring the massive pain in his body from the accident and his knees. He was determined that if he was going out he would go out looking his attackers in the eyes.

"Timonchenko sends his regards," Ignatev said as he kicked Durell in the ribs, "He also wants you both dead."

"We have to do it quietly," Kurstot said, "And if the troops see the bodies..."

"You might end up like us," Durell said, "Not that I'd mind that..."

"There are no words for people like you," Kahilainen said, "Nothing is strong enough."

"I will go down in history as a hero," Kurstot told them, "You will just go down."

"Big words from a little man," Durell said, "Traitors never prosper, Kurstot. You will get yours."

"Take them into the woods," Ignatev instructed Kurstot, "We'll drag them off and tell the troops here they are going to Helsinki. By the time they realize what has been done no one will care."

"Big men," Durell mumbled, "Can't even be honest about our deaths. Surprise, surprise."

"Gag them before you take them out," Ignatev instructed, "That way they can't start shouting. Be sure to bring Durell's corpse back. Timonchenko wants to see it."

"Right," Kurstot said, "Open wide, kiddies."

Kurstot gagged both of them and had some of his people drag them out into another one of the all terrain vehicles. It was an open top vehicle, but they would not be going far enough for it to matter. The troops shouted obscenities at their former commander and the foreigner, proving that an execution might not have been very unpopular after all.

## Chapter 66

"I hate the cold," Kat muttered, "I hope to hell we get to go somewhere warm when this is over."

"You grew up here," Mark chuckled, "You should be used to it by now."

"I miss the climate from the area I was an exchange student," Kat said, "Most enjoyable winter I've ever had. Didn't see snow once, could wear a light jacket. Would love to go back."

"Hopefully soon," Mark told her, "That's if we don't get killed first."

"See that over there," Kat said, pointing towards the trees, "That's one of the ATV's brought in by Kurstot's traitors."

"Let's go see what they are up to," Mark said and pulled out a weapon, "Do me a favor and reload that properly. I can't do it one handed."

## Chapter 67

Kurstot had left the convoy to and driven the ATV into the trees. He preferred to not have to deal with others while doing this, so he did not bring anyone with him. He was still internally glad he had made the choice he did, but it still ate at him a little.

He pulled Durell and General Kahilainen out of the back of the ATV and pushed them down into the snow in front of the vehicle. The headlamps gave the place a hellish glow that blinded them to anything except each other.

"Don't even give us a sporting chance, do you Kurstot?" Durell said as he spit out his gag, "So this is where it ends."

"It ends," Kurstot said, shrugging, "Another couple corpses on the pile."

"Then end it," Durell said, "I'll be waiting when they drag your ass to the pits of hell."

Kahilainen still had his gag on, but he managed to sit himself upright. The older man glared at his former protégé. The look was enough to make Kurstot reel back a little, but he managed to regain his composure. He pulled out a weapon and pulled back the slide, clicking the round into place.

"I hope you've prayed to your gods," Kurstot said as he raised the weapon, "Because you're about to meet them."

"Big words," Durell said, "You don't have the balls."

Durell used every bit of his strength to pull himself upright. His knees screamed, especially after the beating they took when he was thrown from the jeep, but he stood upright and looked straight at Colonel Kurstot, the man who fancied himself his executioner.

"I'll kill you!" Kurstot said, "I swear it!"

"Do it," Durell said, looking him straight in the eye, "Just remember that he trusted you and this is what you did with that trust."

Kahilainen followed Durell's lead, pulling himself to his feet to meet the bullets head on. Neither man was particularly afraid of death anymore, realizing that Kurstot would lose no matter what. Kurstot reeled back at the stares, hiding behind his gun and wrestling with his internal demons.

"I made a mistake with you," Kahilainen said as he spit his gag out, "I never should have trusted someone so damned weak."

"I will be a hero," Kurstot said, almost shouting now, "You will be a corpse rotting here in the forest!"

Durell and Kahilainen knew that the goading would do little but encourage him to pull the trigger, but they knew it was dark and that Kurstot was nearing his breaking point. The only chance they felt they had was to try to break him down and then see if they could get the drop on him.

"It's a sad day," Durell said, his eyes driving directly in to Kurstot's, "When Timonchenko has to rely on lapdogs like you to kill me instead of doing it himself."

That was the last straw for the traitorous Finn. For some reason it offended him worse to be called a lap dog than it did to be called a traitor. Kurstot stood up straight and regained his backbone. He raised his weapon and locked eyes with Durell, his hatred for the American coming to the surface and giving him the courage.

"My conscience will be clear," Kurstot said as he pulled back the slide on the weapon, "And you will still be dead."

Durell braced for the bullet that he knew was coming. He refused to flinch and kept looking at Kurstot's eyes. Kurstot's finger started to tighten on the trigger, but the blast did not come from the weapon in his hand, but from a position in the dark about ten yards away from the area awash in light. Kurstot reacted with a jolt as the bullet took him in the neck.

The traitor looked confused for a few long moments as the blood drained out of the massive neck wound. He managed to get his hands up to his neck, dropping the weapon on the ground. Durell and Kahilainen looked at each other, almost in shock at the display. Kurstot finally lost his battle to stem the blood loss and fell to the ground, gurgling as he died of his wound.

Mark and Kat walked into the light and checked the area carefully. Durell smiled, as he was very glad to see the two of them. Mark was still holding on to the weapon as he went over to Kurstot's body and took aim, putting another quick shot into his forehead to make sure the traitor was dead. Kat rushed over to Durell and hugged him tightly before starting to work on his bonds.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance," A.J. said to them, "Glad to see you both survived."

"Barely," Mark grunted, "My driving leaves a bit to be desired."

"I thought we were dead for sure," General Kahilainen said in badly accented English, "Thank you, young man."

"She saw you," Mark said, "We figured that we could take the vehicle at least and try to find out what happened to you."

"Couldn't have planned it better than that," Durell nodded, "Ok, we need to get out of here before Ignatev sends someone out to look for this dipshit."

"Should we leave him?" Mark asked, "Or should we take the body?"

"Take it," Durell said, "Kick some snow over the blood pool so it won't be easily found. Let them wonder what happened to their golden boy."

"Ghoulish," Kahilainen said, "But it may give us time to get to the border."

"No it won't," Durell said, "It'll just give us a few hours. Besides, I'm not going to the border."

"What?" Kat asked him, "Not going to the border?"

"We need a doctor for Mark's arm," Durell said, having already noticed the makeshift splint, "And once Timonchenko figures out that I'm loose again he's going to bring the world down on us. He can afford to now that Kahilainen's camp is out of commission."

"I have some friends that can help us for a bit," Kahilainen said, "But where are we going if not to Sweden or Norway?"

"We're going back to Helsinki," Durell said, "I don't know exactly how I'm going to do it yet, but I'm not leaving Timonchenko to his own devices any longer."

"I'm all for that," Mark said, "I question your judgment, but I'll follow."

"Let's just get out of here, ok?" Kat said, "It's cold and they could come after us at any time."

"You drive," Marc said to Durell, "I've had enough."

They all had. Durell and General Kahilainen wrapped Kurstot's corpse in a blanket and put it in the back of the ATV. Durell then took the wheel of the ATV and started to leave the area as light started to come up and the snow started falling down.

## Chapter 68

"What do you mean they are gone?" Timonchenko seethed as he talked on the phone, "You had them! You told me you were going to shoot them!"

"I told you I would send Kurstot out to do it," Ignatev said over the phone, "He took them out nearly two hours ago. No one has heard from him since."

"You should have sent others with him," Timonchenko growled, "Kurstot is already dead, along with my plan to use him as a Finnish hero."

"He may have gone on..." Ignatev said and then stopped. He knew that Timonchenko was right.

"Finish up there and report back here," Timonchenko snapped, "You will be leading the search team. If they are still on the loose they are dangerous."

"Right," Ignatev said, "I'm going to have a recovery run done on the jeep crash now that daylight is here. That way we know if anyone survived."

"I hope for your sake no one did," Timonchenko said, "Durell's people are more dangerous than anyone else in that damn camp."

"I don't know," Ignatev said, "This isn't Czechoslovakia."

"No," Timonchenko admitted, "It isn't. He'll have an easier time moving around here than he did there. Get moving."

Ignatev barked a response and released the line. Timonchenko stepped away from the phone and looked up to see Arto Paasilinna looking at him. The old man sat down in a chair and lit up a cigar. Timonchenko was having a hard time dealing with the old man now that power was actually starting to transfer.

"Durell again?" Paasilinna asked as he puffed on the high-class cigar, "I can tell. That man has a way of getting under your skin."

"I should have shot him myself," Timonchenko said angrily, "In that damned jail cell."

"Take it up with your boss," Paasilinna shrugged, "I trust that was the only bad news."

"Kahilainen and Kurstot disappeared with Durell," Timonchenko told him, "They are holding the camp though. Only a few injuries and a couple deaths. Nothing major."

"Sounds major enough," Paasilinna chuckled, "You look like you are about to pop a blood vessel."

"That man has more lives than a cat," Timonchenko said, "He's pissing me off, that's all. Everything else is going to plan. How did the meeting with the parliamentarians go?"

"Very well," Paasilinna nodded, "Kitinoja is going to dissolve the parliament and we'll start from scratch within the constitution. We'll work on getting the people we want in there."

"I thought the point of this was to dissolve them permanently?" Timonchenko said, not liking the sound of this, "We need to bring back the socialist state!"

"We will," Paasilinna said, "But slowly. We do it too quickly there will be a counter revolution."

"Not if you put it down properly," Timonchenko said, "We can do this."

"Remember how Stalin did it," Paasilinna said, "He worked quietly from the inside. The cult of personality. That's what we are doing now. Just like Hitler, only without the insanity."

"We're all insane," Timonchenko said, "We wouldn't be in this business otherwise."

"That's true as well," Paasilinna agreed, "I'll leave you to your work. Report to me later and we'll see where we stand."

"Yes," Timonchenko said, not sure if he liked the change in the new leader, "I'll be sure to do that."

## Chapter 69

"Thanks Reza," General Kahilainen said, "I know having us here is dangerous right now."

"It is a dangerous time," Kahilainen's old friend said, "Someone has to oppose that fool in the presidential palace. Is it true the stories about Paasilinna having Russian help?"

"Yes," Durell said in his accented Finnish, "Aleksandr Timonchenko is leading the Russians who are supporting Paasilinna."

"This is a name I do not know," Reza said, "But my home is yours if you need to rest."

"We need your medical expertise as well, Reza," Kahilainen said, "We don't want to put you at risk so we will not stay long, just long enough for you to patch our American friend up and for us to get a bit of rest."

"What is wrong with him," Reza asked, directing the question to Durell, as he could tell that Mark was clueless with the language, "You all look banged up."

"His arm needs to be set properly," Durell said, "It was broken pretty badly in an accident last night."

"I can accommodate that," Reza agreed, "I haven't practiced actively in a few years, but I can still set a broken bone."

"I know you, Reza," Kahilainen grinned, "You still take charity cases even though you've retired. You probably have a full clinic on premises."

"You know me too well," Reza chuckled, "Come, let's get to work on your friend. You can talk about your plans in English so I will not be able to compromise you."

"He's going to set your arm," Durell told Mark in English, "General, do you speak English well enough to plan in it?"

"I do," Kahilainen said, his words coming out accented, "It has been a while, so I may ask you to repeat."

"I'll translate if you don't understand," Kat told him, as her English was much more fluent than his was, "Let's go."

Reza led them to his office and started unwrapping Mark's arm. He was in quite a bit of pain, but took it well. A.J. Durell sat down in one of the chairs, taking the load off his battered knees, while Kat sat between him and General Kahilainen.

"They probably think we're dead," Kahilainen said, regaining some confidence in his rusty English skills, "You sure you don't want to use that confusion to get out of the country?"

"Timonchenko will know better," Durell said, "When Kurstot didn't show up again they would have realized that we managed to get away. Timonchenko has probably already got the dogs running."

"Even more reason to get out," Kat said, "I mean this is my home, but it won't do any good for all of us to die here."

"I'll follow you into the fire, A.J.," Mark said, "But I'd like to know why."

"If we run then Timonchenko wins," Durell told them, "And all four of us will be looking at our backs for the rest of our lives."

"But there are just four of us," Kahilainen told him, "An old man, an injured marine, a young woman and you, a half crippled expert in counter-terrorism. What do you think we can accomplish?"

"I hold no illusions about winning the battle directly," Durell said, "But I do think we can make some changes in the dynamics of this."

"How so?" Mark asked, "The public is on their side."

"There is more than one side of this," Durell reminded him, "How did you, Claire and Tracy operate on the streets when the world was against you?"

"Wait," Mark said, "Kat didn't have a chance to tell you about that... How the hell?"

"Shearer told me" Durell chuckled, "There's a whole file on you. Just because they didn't have legal proof didn't mean they didn't know what you were up to."

"I should have guessed," Mark said, "And you didn't tell Kat?"

"Yeah," Kat said, "When were you going to let me know?"

"I figured either he would tell you," Durell shrugged, "Or I would when I had reason to. I do now."

"I'm confused," Kahilainen said, "What are you talking about?"

"I worked as a vigilante on the streets before I joined the marines," Mark explained to the General, "I basically joined the Marines after one of my partners was killed and the other one was incarcerated."

"It is one of the reasons you were chosen for foreign guard," Durell agreed, "I'm personally amazed they didn't draft you into intelligence. Now that we all know that, answer my question."

"You keep low and get the leaders..." Mark said, "You want to perform a head strike!"

"Paasilinna is a danger," Durell nodded, "But if we remove the pressure of Timonchenko and the Russians I'm betting that Kitinoja will be able to moderate him and his movement. Not my preferred political coupling, but since they have popular support..."

"They wouldn't be toppled even by an election," Kahilainen nodded, "So you want to attack Timonchenko's people to keep them out of the process."

"I want to find out who is funding him," Durell corrected, "We kill Timonchenko directly and they will replace him. I want to scare him into revealing who is trying to play puppet master."

"You don't think Timonchenko is doing it on his own?" Kat asked, "He seems pig headed enough to do it."

"He is," Durell agreed, "But Timonchenko is a fallen KGB agent. He does not have the connections or resources to do this on his own. Besides, if he was playing kingmaker he wouldn't be out on the lines like this. Kingmakers don't play the game. They watch it from the luxury box in the stands."

"I take it you have a plan?" Kat said, "Or are we playing it by ear?"

"Timonchenko is working out of the presidential palace," Durell said, "So the idea is to spook him."

"The best way to spook someone is to do something to make them not feel safe," Mark said, "That's a tactic we often used to make a less desirable criminal that we couldn't attack directly leave the area."

"I'm thinking that a daytime delivery might be a way to do it," Durell said, "Kurstot may be more useful now that he's dead."

"What are you thinking?" Kahilainen asked him, "Body delivery?"

"Not the whole thing," Durell smiled, "Just the head will do."

"That's disgusting," Kat said, "Why would that matter?"

"It would catch him off guard," Mark said, "I never went that far, but since Kurstot is already dead and we have the body... That might be a great way to send him running to his boss."

"It won't do any good unless we can follow him," Kahilainen said, "There are only four of us, and he knows what A.J. and I look like."

"Timonchenko doesn't trust anyone here," Durell said, "His people brought in a few old Zil's. Anyone care to bet that he has a Zil limousine for his use and his use only? If he goes anywhere it will be in that car."

"Tag the car and we tag him," Mark said, "I know how to build a decent transmitter."

"Better yet," Durell said, "We can lift one from the depot. Kat's friends are still working there."

"What type of delivery are we going to do?" Kat asked, "I mean just sending it by parcel post is out of the question."

"Personal is best," Durell said, "I'm still debating that one, but I have some ideas. We'll need to acquire some equipment first."

"I'll contact my friends," Kat said, "Make a list of what you will need."

"An untraceable car," Durell said, "Non-military, preferably. I also want a sniper rifle, four good sidearms, a couple of assault weapons and plenty of ammunition for each."

"I know where to get the car," Kahilainen said, "It shouldn't take too long."

Mark grunted his ascent to the plan while Reza finished setting his arm. None of them knew exactly how this was going to work, but at least it was a plan, something that they had not had for a long time.

"I'll need to set the arm in plaster," Reza said in Finnish, "Then you can all rest."

"I suggest we do so," Durell nodded, "It may be the last chance we get for a while."

## Chapter 70

A.J. Durell looked around the corner and lit a cigarette. It was broad daylight and he was one of the most wanted men in the country. He found it a bit amusing that in that situation he was currently in he was standing not two hundred yards from the palace where the leader of the manhunt was staying.

"What the hell are we doing here, A.J.?" Kat asked him, "We should be leaving this area, not returning to it."

"We need to spook Timonchenko," Durell said, "I needed to eyeball it to make sure that it was set up the way I thought it was."

"You've seen it," Kat said, "Now what?"

"Now we go see if Mark and the General are ready to put my plan in action," Durell smiled, "It's time to scare the hell out of some people."

A.J. and Kat went over to the van that had pulled to a stop a block down the way. General Kahilainen was sitting behind the wheel in civilian clothes, looking much different from the man they had met when this insurrection started less than two days before.

Mark opened the door and the two of them slid into the back with them. All of them had deadly serious expressions on their faces. They knew what was at stake and knew that Durell's harebrained plan was the best chance they had to alter the course of events for this country and to get the Russians off their backs for good.

"It's doable," Durell said, "Did you get the things I wanted?"

"Sniper rifle is in the boot," Kat said, "Same with the sidearms."

"There's another car waiting two streets over," General Kahilainen said, "I got the parts you wanted, though I don't know what to do with them."

"And the laser pointer?" Durell asked them.

"I still don't know why you want that," Mark said, "That's useless as a weapon."

"I have a different use for that," Durell smiled, "It's a bit of bait and switch."

"So which one of us gets to make the delivery?" Kat asked him, "It's probably going to have to be me or Mark."

"Why not me?" General Kahilainen asked.

"You're too recognizable," Durell said, cutting off the soon to come comment about age, "And my knees are bad. Plus, I'm probably the only one of us who can operate a sniper rifle still."

"I know how to operate one," Mark said, "But my arm..."

"Exactly," Durell said, "Mark, think you can carry a bag with one arm?"

"Sure," Mark nodded, "I can always drop the bag to shoot if I have to."

"Why not me?" Kat said, "I'm healthy."

"That's why," A.J. told her, "You can drive easier, not to mention you can read street signs. Mark might as well be illiterate here."

"Oh," Kat nodded, placated, "I see."

"So how do we do this?" Kahilainen said, "I don't quite understand your plan."

"These devices," A.J. said as he opened the boxes, "Are tracking devices. They are generally used by private detectives when they are tracking a cheating spouse. They're cheap and the Russians don't expect them."

"How do they work?" Kahilainen asked him, "And why don't they expect them?"

"Because," Durell smiled, "They are too commonplace and the intelligence agencies avoid commonplace. No CIA agent would ever use one of these devices. They don't last long enough and you have to actually get access to the vehicle to plant it."

"So how do we get access to it?" Mark asked, "I mean his Zil is easily visible, but locked up."

"That's where Kat comes in," Durell said, "While Mark is making his scene at the front gate you'll be making your way to the driving gate. It's a loose setup there and those guards will head to the front when I pull the trigger."

"I slip in and put this device under the fender," Kat nodded, "I can do that."

"Then we follow him," Kahilainen said, "I still don't get what my part of this is."

"Misdirection," Durell said, smiling, "That's what the laser pointer is for."

"I see," Kahilainen nodded, "I make them look at me while you pick them off from the other direction."

"You got it," Durell nodded, "I'll take down the two Russians outside the door and Mark beats a hasty retreat."

"This is risky," Kahilainen said, "This whole thing."

"That's why it is worth it," Durell said, "I'm sick of letting Timonchenko have the initiative. Time to turn the tables. See how he likes being hunted."

"Let's do it," Mark said, "See if it gets us anywhere."

"Wear a glove and put the weapon under it," Durell told Mark, "That way you don't have to waste time drawing."

"Works for me," Mark said, "Too bad Tracy isn't here. She lived for these cowboy jobs."

"Just keep low when the shooting starts," Durell told him, "I haven't used a sniper rifle in years."

"How do we know who to shoot?" Kat asked him, "I mean we don't want to kill poor Finns just doing their job."

"That's where these come in," Durell said, pointing at the radios, "Mark, I'm going to record a few phrases in Russian on a tape. Play them for the guards and then give them the package. If they react properly, say it is a go. If they don't, cancel, drop the package and get out."

"What phrases?" Kahilainen asked him, "Or do I want to know?"

"Some very insulting Russian phrases," Durell smiled, "Something that if they are Timonchenko's people they will react to. If they are Finns they won't."

"I still think this is insane," Mark grinned, "I love it."

"You're in the danger zone," Durell told him, "You can back out."

"Let's do it," Mark said, "Gotta go sometime. Might as well have fun doing it."

## Chapter 71

Mark waited impatiently for the signal to begin his approach up to the front gates. He was holding the package containing Kurstot's head in the fingers of his broken arm. He did some breathing exercises while waiting.

Durell surveyed the scene with the scope on the rifle. He did not like the scene, but he knew that it was not going to get any better. He scoped across the road and saw that General Kahilainen was in place. He then scoped down to the rear gate and saw that Kat was in place.

"Mission is a go," Durell said into the radio, "Mark, take it easy and play the tape for the guards. I want you to trigger the radio when you approach, that way I can hear the reactions and make my own judgment. Wait for my go before approach."

"Roger," Mark said, "Give me the signal."

"General?" Durell asked, "You ready?"

"In position," Kahilainen said, "Will start on your go."

"Kat?" Durell asked.

"Let's do it," Kat said, "Quickly."

"Mark," Durell said, "Go."

Mark nodded and readied himself. He sighed and decided that a straight up approach would be the best. He went towards the guards at the gate and hoped for the best. Once he was in range he triggered the radio and then triggered the tape player, which immediately started with Durell speaking in guttural Russian.

"Приветствие Timonchenko's сука," Durell said, deliberately insulting them, "Делать ты вспомогательный глагол для образования сложных времен шутка проклятый ваш мать последний ночь?"

This got the Russian guards' attention faster than anything Mark could have done. There was something about asking Russians if they fucked their mothers that pissed them off. Mark tensed for a moment until the red dots appeared on the guards chests.

"Этот тюк быть для ваш хозяин," Durell's voice said, telling them that the package was for their boss and then saying that if they made a move they were dead, "Если ты делать высшая отметка за классную работу двигать от принадлежащий мне человек ты быть мертвый."

The Russians stood nervously and fingered their weapons. They knew what the red dots meant and did not want to end their lives that quickly. Unfortunately for them Durell heard their muttering in Russian, confirming his assumption.

"Drop the package, Mark," Durell muttered, "Get out of there."

"Take the package," Mark said in English, waving it at them, "Come on!"

Kahilainen shook the laser pointer to indicate to the guard that he should take the package. Instead of taking the package the two men raised their weapons and dropped behind the nearest barricade.

Mark knew that he needed to get out of there, so he dropped the package and the recorder to make sure that Timonchenko got the message Durell sent for him.

Durell saw the drops and decided to go proactive. He fired two quick shots that killed the guards immediately, his plan working properly and alerting the rest of the guards.

"Here goes nothing," Durell muttered, "Good luck, Kat."

Durell fired three more shots into the compound, making sure that they didn't hit anyone but that they would make people start moving and going into confusion.

Kat watched as the rear gate guards started heading towards the front. The gate was a good eight inches off the ground so she dropped down and rolled under the gate.

Durell tracked down and covered Mark's escape for a few more moments until he managed to get out of the sights. He then tracked over towards where Kat was making her entrance into the car pool.

"Get in and get out," Durell mumbled as he watched her through the scope.

Kat was scared out of her mind as she made her way to the parked cars. She jumped as Durell fired a few shots into the compound, making sure that nobody went near her.

She found the two Russian Zil limousines and quickly broke out the devices that Mark had trained her on earlier. She placed the devices on the inside of the hubcaps, just like Mark had showed her to do. It took all of five seconds and then she started moving out.

## Chapter 72

"Durell!" Timonchenko growled as he heard the shots, "Get out there, Ignatev!"

Ignatev pulled his weapon and ran out towards the door. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew he had to keep low. He saw the red light flashing around and knew what it meant. He also saw that the shots had been coming from the other direction.

"The shooter is on the other building," Ignatev shouted, "You three get him! The rest of you lay covering fire!"

Several men started firing up towards Durell, causing him to abandon his position. Kahilainen left soon after, knowing that things were not going to stay docile for long.

"Get them," Ignatev said, "I want Durell's head on a fucking platter."

The Russians ran out and started looking for Durell and the package deliveryman. Ignatev kept his head down, but stayed reasonably safe since the covering fire.

Mark got into the van and started it up. He drove it to Kahilainen's building. Kahilainen jumped into the van. Mark drove over towards the other building. Durell came limping out quickly, jumping into the van.

Kat walked over towards the building quickly, knowing that she was in danger now. Mark tried to drive over towards her, but Ignatev started moving faster.

"Let's get her!" Durell said, "We need to get out of here!"

Ignatev saw her before Mark could get the van over there. He recognized Kat from the motel room and started shouting.

"Get that woman!" Ignatev yelled, "She's Durell's bitch!"

Mark tried to guide the van over, but Ignatev's people were faster. They grabbed Kat and roughly pulled her back to the palace. Durell looked out the window but knew that if he did anything they would all be dead.

"Get her inside," Ignatev said, "Timonchenko will want to see her."

## Chapter 73

"Goddamn it!" Durell yelled and pounded the van, "They've got Kat!"

"Nothing we could have done," Kahilainen said, "We all knew it was risky. We should have gotten her first."

"Timonchenko won't do anything to her," Mark said as he drove, "She's too valuable as leverage on you."

"That's what scares me," Durell said, "Shit."

"We've come too far now," Kahilainen said, "She placed the transmitters and got out before Ignatev saw her. They probably think she's a spotter."

"How did that son of a bitch ID her?" Mark asked, "They'd never seen her or me."

"Ignatev had seen her," Durell said, "He was the one who came in and took me to the police station the first day. Kat was there."

"Bad luck," Kahilainen said, "Only type we've had lately."

"What do we do?" Mark asked him, "Where the hell am I going?"

"Take a left," Kahilainen said, "My mistress has an apartment there. We can lay low there until the beepers start moving."

"Right," Durell said, "I'll look forward to killing him properly this time."

"I've got some contacts still," Kahilainen said, "We'll make some calls. We'll get her back."

"We'd better," Durell said, "Because if he kills her, there will be hell to pay. I don't care if I have to bring this whole fucking country down to do it."

Mark and the General simply looked at Durell, hoping that it would not come down to that.

## Chapter 74

"Where is Durell?" Timonchenko asked the young woman tied to the chair, "I'm only going to ask you once."

"I don't know," Kat said, "Your stooge grabbed me before we could figure it out."

"So what did he have you deliver?" Timonchenko asked, "A bomb? A message?"

"Look at it yourself, asshole," Kat said defiantly, "It is addressed to you."

"Why don't you open it?" Timonchenko said, putting the package on the table in front of her, "Humor me."

"I can't do it with my hands tied," Kat said, "Feel free to aim it at me."

Timonchenko knew she was not nervous enough for it to be a bomb. He went over and pulled the lid off the box and looked inside. Ignatev looked as well and had to suppress a retch when the smell from Kurstot's severed head hit his nose.

"Cute," Timonchenko said, not even affected by the corpse smell, "I take it that this is the officer you sent out to execute Durell."

"What's left of him," Ignatev said, "Why would Durell risk people to send this."

"Ask her," Timonchenko said, "Why would Durell risk you for this?"

"He wanted to put you on notice," Kat smiled, "Read the note yourself."

Timonchenko pulled the note out and read it over. Durell's Russian script was rusty, but good enough to get the message across. Kat almost smiled at the obvious rise in blood pressure that occurred as Timonchenko read Durell's text.

"That crazy son of a bitch," Timonchenko said, "He's going to try to wreck it all."

"How?" Ignatev said, "What can he do?"

"Assassinate Paasilinna," Timonchenko said, "Which would throw a nice monkey wrench into our process."

"How does he plan on that?" Ignatev asked, "I mean..."

"I'd ask her," Timonchenko said in Russian, knowing the girl didn't speak it, "But I doubt she knows. My guess is that he doesn't know yet."

"Then why do this?" Ignatev said, "It makes no sense."

"He wants to get under my skin," Timonchenko said, "Just like he did in Czechoslovakia. I should stay here today. Petrukin doesn't need me there."

"Petrukin is our boss," Ignatev said, "I can handle things here. Durell won't hit this quickly."

"All right," Timonchenko said, "Keep an eye on Paasilinna and Kitinoja. I think they are up to something. I just don't know what. I'll be back tonight. See if you can avoid screwing up until then."

"What about her?" Ignatev asked, referring to Kat, "He'll look for her."

"I'll keep her with me," Timonchenko smiled, "Make Durell think twice about coming after me directly."

"Good idea," Ignatev said, "What do you want me to do about the dead men?"

"Take our boys off the entrances," Timonchenko said, "No need to let them remain targets."

"How did he know?" Ignatev asked, "Or does he care?"

"The tape recorder," Timonchenko said, "That was Durell's voice. No Russian would listen to it and not react."

"That's how," Ignatev said, "He's good."

"Too good," Timonchenko said, "Next time don't hesitate. Kill him."

"You have my word," Ignatev said, "I'll serve his head on a platter."

"Make sure you have a side of caviar," Timonchenko smiled, "It'll be better that way."

## Chapter 75

"I don't know what you have in mind," Kahilainen said, "But going this fast is going to get us caught."

"The police have better things to deal with," Durell said as he drove fast, "Besides, Timonchenko is driving almost as fast as I am."

"Durell is right," Mark said, "Look at that blip, he's flying down those roads."

"So you're going to fly in to a compound filled with Russians who want to kill you," Kahilainen said, "Think about this, A.J."

"It's the last thing Timonchenko would expect from me," Durell explained, his eyes staying hard on the road, "That's why I left Czechoslovakia. Timonchenko became too good at reading me and I was burning out."

"And this is different how?" Kahilainen said, "You're talking like a madman."

"They are going to be on home turf," Durell said, "The last thing they'll expect at this point is me popping in out of nowhere guns blazing."

"Still," Kahilainen said, "You need more of a plan than that."

"My goal at this point is to get Kat back," Durell said, "I don't give a damn about Finland, nor do I care what happens to me. If I can get her out alive and get her out of the country then I'll go after that son of a bitch."

Kahilainen sat there and thought about that as they drove. He knew Durell was a bit out of his mind, but he had an idea on how to use that to his own advantage. Whether the pissed off American would go along with it, he did not know.

"You don't need me for this," Kahilainen said, "I'm too old."

"I'll let you off when you want," Durell said, "I'm doing this."

"I'm not going to try to stop you," Kahilainen said, "In fact, you might just prove to be the diversion I need."

"How so, General?" Mark asked, "What can you do?"

"I'm betting that Paasilinna is using Timonchenko," Kahilainen said, "Maybe while Durell is off raising hell with the Russians I can do an end run around them and gain control of the government again."

"Co-opt the co-opted," Durell nodded, "Kitinoja will probably go for it, don't know about Paasilinna."

"I just need time to figure out how," Kahilainen said, "I'm sure there is a way."

"You have until I find out where Timonchenko is going," Durell said, "Then you're on your own."

"This road heads towards the Russian border," Mark said as he read the map, "Think Timonchenko is based in his homeland?"

"The FSB would be all over his ass," Durell said, "He's probably in a town just on the border. That would ease transportation for his troops. They could meander across the border when needed."

"Let me see that," Kahilainen said, tracing his finger on the road, "Imatra. That is where my first rebellions were happening according to the threat boards. That is probably where the Russians are based."

"Two more hours," Mark said, tracing miles on the map, "Then we get out."

"I can refuel there," Kahilainen said, "That will give you three hours or so to do your thing before I get back to Helsinki. By the time your shockwaves start to hit I can get people to do things there."

"That is your problem," Durell said, "If Kat is in Helsinki, I'll be back. If she's in Imatra, we'll be heading north and trying to get over the border. Nothing personal, but we've had enough of your fine nation."

"I'll mail your commendations to the states," Kahilainen grinned, "I'm going to rest a bit. I have a feeling it will be a long day."

"Only if we live," Mark mumbled.

Durell kept silent as he kept his eyes on the road. His mind was set on one thing now and that one thing was in a car with a beacon, some forty miles ahead of them.

## Chapter 76

Timonchenko pulled the vehicle into the driveway of Petrukin's hut. He stood up in the seat and looked around the building, looking for signs of danger. He'd been in this location hundreds of times over the years, but this was the first since Finland had become a work zone.

"Andrushka!" Timonchenko yelled, "Where are you?"

"I'm here," Petrukin said, coming out, "You're looking well, Timonchenko. How goes the fight?"

"Just as much fun as I remembered," Timonchenko told him, "Have you got a room I can secure?"

"Prisoner?" Petrukin wondered, "Why didn't you leave him with Paasilinna's people?"

"Durell's bitch," Timonchenko explained, "She may be my ticket to getting him."

"I thought you already got him," Petrukin said, showing he was a little behind in his intelligence, "What happened?"

"Ignatev let a Finn take Durell and General Kahilainen out for execution," Timonchenko grumbled, "Durell had his head delivered to the presidential palace."

"He always did know how to deliver a message," Petrukin said, "You can lock the girl in the basement."

Timonchenko nodded and barked the orders to his guards. He and Petrukin walked inside and sat down. Petrukin poured both of them glasses of good Russian Vodka, which Timonchenko downed quickly, as it had been a long day.

"So is that why you're so worked up?" Petrukin said, "Because someone sent you a head?"

"That spooked me a bit," Timonchenko said, "But I can live with that. I think Paasilinna is trying to sucker us."

"I've thought that was a possibility," Petrukin agreed, "How have you been doing with controlling that possibility?"

"As well as possible," Timonchenko said, though he had no idea what Paasilinna had in mind, "I've been mostly cleaning up messes."

"I've paid good money for this!" Petrukin said, "We need this country to be friendly."

"I need instructions then," Timonchenko said, "I am an operator. I don't do strategy, I never have."

"How many people are you down?" Petrukin asked him, "How big a toll has Durell taken?"

"Between Durell and other problems I'm down a dozen Russians," Timonchenko told him, "Ignatev is holding the fort for me until I get back."

"I'm still worried about your friend Durell," Petrukin said, "Are you sure he is behind the delivery?"

"The girl is his," Timonchenko said, "Ignatev caught her near the compound, probably spotting for Durell. She was wearing a radio."

"Near your compound?" Petrukin said, "Wait a minute, how near?"

"Near enough, why?" Timonchenko said, "Do you have an idea?"

"Yes," Petrukin said, "Why would he risk the girl to simply spot from the street? She could have done that with a telescope from a distant location and been safe."

"To piss me off," Timonchenko shrugged, "He used to pull stunts like that in Czechoslovakia."

Petrukin downed his vodka and stood up. He walked out to Timonchenko's Zil limousine and ran his fingers inside the wheel wells. Timonchenko wondered what he was up to until the old man pulled the bug out, holding it up.

"Durell wasn't trying to piss you off," Petrukin growled, "He was trying to bait you into coming here."

"To reveal you," Timonchenko growled, "Damn it, I should have seen that."

"We're one up on him now," Petrukin smiled as he crushed the bug, "We know he's coming. We have his girl. Let him come. We'll destroy him and then go make sure Paasilinna bends to our will."

"Just so long as Durell is dead," Timonchenko said, "This time, I'm going to kill him myself."

"There will be time for that," Petrukin said, "He'll know we're on to him. We'll leave this place for him with a nice surprise inside."

"Where are we going?" Timonchenko asked him.

"Other side of the border," Petrukin said, "I have a compound there."

"Why do you live in this hut then?" Timonchenko asked him, "That doesn't make sense."

"I've owned this place for forty years," Petrukin smiled, "Nobody can find me here that I don't want to find me. The other place is a bit more ostentatious and easier to find."

"So why are we going there?" Timonchenko wondered.

"Because it will become a death trap for him," Petrukin told him, "And in Russia I still carry enough clout to make Durell disappear for good."

## Chapter 77

"The bug just went dead," Mark said, "Last stop was just inside of Imatra."

"Near the border," Durell growled, "Damn it. They know what we were up to."

"Probably best to go back," Kahilainen said, "We won't find them now."

"Timonchenko won't run that easily," Durell said, "I'm going to continue in. General, you probably should head back and see if you can do something while I have Timonchenko occupied."

"What about me?" Mark asked him, "Where am I going?"

"You can either go with him or come with me," Durell said, "I wouldn't blame you either way."

"Fuck that," Mark said, "I can still aim a gun and my knees are a damn sight better than yours. I'm coming along."

"You are insane, Durell," Kahilainen said, "He's got you outmanned, outgunned and probably outrun. Why are you going to do it?"

"He's the only one who knows where Kat is now," Durell said, "Also I'm not leaving until I know he's dead."

"Fair enough," Kahilainen nodded, "I'm taking the van?"

"We go on foot from here," Durell said, "I'll steal a car if I need one."

"I may not be able to protect you," Kahilainen said, "You know this, right?"

"I don't expect you to," Durell said, "I don't expect to go back to Helsinki unless Kat is still there."

"I understand," Kahilainen nodded, "I'll drive you to the edge of the area where the beeper stopped. The rest is up to you."

"Thanks," Durell said, pulling over, "Mark, let's get our weapons ready."

"Right," Mark nodded, "Time to go to work."

## Chapter 78

A.J. Durell and Mark Copeland walked quickly towards the coordinates where the tracking device died. Durell had a stern expression on his face as he tried to put the pain emanating from his knees out of his mind.

"You're limping again," Mark said, "You going to make it?"

"The cold is working to my advantage," Durell said, smiling a little, "I can't feel them that much. The limping is just a simple byproduct of what is wrong with them."

"I swear," Mark said, "This cold is brutal. I'd give a lot to go tropical."

"Tropical heat gives a new meaning to dehydration," Durell told him, "Give me a good temperate climate any day."

"So do you think this is going to work?" Mark wondered, "Going in like this?"

"If you don't why are you following me?" Durell asked him.

"Because I don't speak a word of Finnish," Mark grinned, "I'd get caught before I got ten miles. I can't even read our fucking maps."

"That's a good reason I guess," Durell chuckled, "Sorry I got you involved in this."

"Eh," Mark shrugged, "I guess it is a bit of penance for me being free while Claire is stuck in that prison cell."

"How many years did she get?" Durell asked him, content to keep talking to keep his mind off his knees.

"Eight years," Mark said, "She's served a year and a half now."

"If we make it out of here I'll see if I can pull some strings," Durell promised, "After getting me involved in this mess the state department owes me a few favors."

"Let's just survive this first," Mark said, not wanting to think about Claire, "Kat is waiting for us anyway."

"Right," Durell nodded, "Let's keep moving."

## Chapter 79

"Who controls the border guard?" Timonchenko asked Petrukin as they crossed the border into Svetogorsk, "Durell is sure to follow."

"We do," Petrukin said, "You worry too much."

"Not where he's concerned," Timonchenko said, "You don't worry enough."

"He's not going to get over the border," Petrukin assured his comrade, "We'll let the Finns lock him up and then we'll slip back over."

"I don't like it," Timonchenko said, "But it isn't my operation anyway."

"That's right," Petrukin nodded, "It isn't."

"I've dealt with him before," Timonchenko reminded him, "I've seen him get out of scrapes where I had half of our Czechoslovakian forces after him. Forces that were more than ten times as good as what we have now."

"I think you're paranoid," Petrukin said, "Come on inside and have a glass of vodka."

Timonchenko nodded and followed along. He did not have a good feeling, although it was good to be in his homeland. The terrain was not much different, but there was just a feeling that he did not get when he was in a different country.

Petrukin watched his protégé and worried a bit about his stability. He drank a little more and held his council a little. His spies in Helsinki had been less than enthused about the way events had been playing out.

"What is going on with Paasilinna and Kitinoja?" Petrukin asked him, "I'm getting conflicting reports about their relationship."

"I've spent most of my time cleaning up trouble spots," Timonchenko told him, "I warned you at the beginning I wasn't a political handler."

"You're going to have to learn," Petrukin reminded him, "We'll ride out today and tomorrow here and then you can go keep an eye on them. Remind Paasilinna where he'd be without our cooperation."

"I will do so," Timonchenko nodded, "You can keep the girl here as insurance for me. She's the most valuable chip I have to keep Durell out of my hair."

"Get some sleep here," Petrukin instructed him, "You haven't slept since the start, have you?"

"Not since Durell escaped," Timonchenko admitted, "I need some."

"It is making you paranoid," Petrukin agreed, "He can't cross the border. You're safe here."

"I'll believe it when Durell is dead," Timonchenko said, "But I'm too tired to debate it."

Timonchenko went upstairs and picked a room to go collapse in. Petrukin lit a cigar and walked down to where a couple of the guards were holding Kat until they got instructions.

"Put her in the room next to the furnace," Petrukin said in Russian, "She'll get enough heat to survive but won't have any way out."

The guards nodded and dragged Kat along as she cursed at Petrukin in Finnish. Petrukin smiled a quick smile and went up to his room to retire for the night. All was right in his warped world.

## Chapter 80

"Looks deserted," Mark said as they approached the hut on the outskirts, "This is the place where the bug stopped according to the device."

"There were people here before," Durell said, "Look at the tire tracks."

They walked around a little bit to try to see what they could find at Petrukin's hut. Durell lit a cigarette and tried to forget about how much his feet and knees hurt him. Mark checked out the driveway and found the remains of the bug and a bunch of footprints.

"Kat was here," Mark told Durell, "Look at the tracks."

"He was here, but I don't get why," Durell said, "Let's check out the hut."

Mark nodded and pulled his weapon. Durell did the same and took the lead. There did not appear to be any people around, but they did not want to take any chances.

"Keep your ears open," Durell said, "I'm going to open the lock."

Mark nodded while Durell fought with the lock for a minute before giving up on it. It was a better lock than he had tools for at that time. He growled and took a deep breath.

"That lock is too good for this hut," Mark said unnecessarily, "Why put a state of the art lock on a shitty little hut?"

"I'm betting it was their base," Durell told him, "Timonchenko and his boss were probably planning this takeover from here."

Mark watched as Durell took a deep breath and got in a tight stance. He controlled his breathing and slowly pulled his arm back, leaving his palm flat. He then made a practice motion, miming a piston punch. Then he did it for real, pushing all his power into the punch, his hand concentrating it into a spot just above the lock, shattering the frame around it.

"Impressive," Mark nodded, "Where did you learn that?"

"An old man in Czechoslovakia," Durell said as he opened the door, "Now let's see what we can find."

They searched through the hut and tried to find any indication of what had been going on here.

"Whoever lived here was a pro," Mark said, "There's nothing identifiable."

"It's been lived in, that's for sure," Durell nodded, "Not up to Timonchenko's old palace in Prague, that's for sure."

"Someone older has been living here," Mark said, picking up a bottle, "My grandfather used a variation of these pills to control prostate problems. Only hits older men."

"Is there a name on them?" Durell asked.

"I can't read it if there is," Mark said and tossed him the bottle.

"Andrey Petrukin," Durell smiled, "That old son of a bitch is still alive. That makes sense."

"Who is he?" Mark asked him, "Sounds like you knew him too."

"Not personally," Durell said, "He was a Soviet KGB head when I was in Czechoslovakia."

"Why would he be living here?" Mark asked, "That doesn't make sense."

"I think we just found out who the big boss is," Durell smiled, "He was put out on the street when the Soviets dissolved. I'd imagine he was pissed as hell."

"So why fuck with a small Scandinavian country?" Mark wondered, "I mean I've lived here for a bit now. This place isn't that important."

"It is an easy target," Durell said, "A country with a history of a strong presidency, a Democracy that was almost a dictatorship for nearly thirty years during Kekkonen's rule. Not to mention the fact that the fall of the Soviets damn near wrecked their economy."

"So they start small," Mark said, "And try to make a base to subvert Yeltsin's government."

"You got it," Durell nodded, "Or at least make a place that's more amenable to the former Soviet leaders who are still out there. Petrukin was an ideologue though, so he probably wanted to get the ball rolling again."

"Why would Timonchenko go along?" Mark asked, "What does he have to gain from it?"

"Timonchenko lost a lot when the Soviet Union fell," Durell said, "His type of agent was most likely the first type dumped. Petrukin probably stole millions on his way out. He's probably using it to finance this gig."

"Now we know the who and why," Mark grumbled, "That leaves us with the where."

"How good are you at tossing a place?" Durell asked him, "Have you ever done it before?"

"Learned it from an ex-cop that helped train us," Mark nodded, "We routinely tossed our targets apartments for intelligence."

"Good," Durell said, "You take this room. I'll take the bedroom. No one can spend this much time here without needing a place to hide important documents."

The two of them tore the place apart. Mark turned out to be the lucky one who found the hiding spot. He pulled out three handwritten books in Russian.

"Jackpot," Durell said when Mark handed him the papers, "Son of a bitch kept a diary."

"Does it tell us where he went," Mark wondered.

"Fucker went across the border," Durell said, "He has a place in Svetogorsk. They knew we were coming. I bet he has gone there."

"It says that in there?" Mark asked, surprised, "Why didn't he take it."

"They are old diaries," Durell said, "Timonchenko fears me. That's why he took me the first day. He was following orders when he let me live. Petrukin talks about it in the last book."

"So how do you know they went across the border?" Mark asked him.

"Because," Durell smiled, "Timonchenko is here and they found the bug. Rather than risk a confrontation with me here they would have gone to home ground."

"So she's out of reach?" Mark said, "We have no transportation and just a bag of weapons, which we have no way of getting across the border."

"Where there is a will there is a way," Durell said, "Petrukin made a mistake leaving this here. It details a way across the border."

"I'm all ears," Mark said, "Where are we going?"

"South of here," Durell told him, "According to the book it is one of Paasilinna's import stations. Evidently he has been in Petrukin's pocket for years."

"You want to use the enemy's import station?" Mark asked.

"Sure," Durell nodded, "Let's make the bastards work for us for a change."

"How do we do it?" Mark asked him.

"The codes are here," Durell said, "We pray they haven't been changed."

"One problem," Mark said, "I don't speak a word of Russian or Finnish."

"Stay quiet and let me do the talking," Durell told him, "We'll practice a few phrases on the way. Nothing major, just enough so you'll know when to follow me."

"Let's do it," Mark nodded, "I'm a sucker for a good ruse."

"Let's hope they are too," Durell smiled.

## Chapter 81

Mark and A.J. made it to the import yard and talked their way in expertly. With the codes they possessed they were brought through to the Russian side of the border without a problem. Paasilinna's man drove them to the next point.

"Thank you," Durell said in Russian, "When are they expecting you back?"

"I live on this side of the border," the Russian told him, "I'll be going home after I drop you off."

"Good," Durell said, "They won't miss you."

Durell reached over and knocked the driver out. Mark looked up and smiled at Durell, wondering if he could finally talk again.

"We made it," Durell said in English, "Time to find Petrukin's place."

"What do we do with him?" Mark asked, pointing at the driver, "He's not a threat."

"We'll tie him to a tree," Durell said, "Unless he's a complete idiot he'll get out of it."

"But not in time to fuck us over," Mark nodded, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"If I don't," Durell said coldly, "We're all dead."

"All right," Mark nodded, "Lock and load. Let's get her out."

"All hell is about to break loose," Durell told him, "God, I haven't done anything like this since I was young and stupid."

"Look at it this way," Mark said, "Maybe we'll live long enough to become old and stupid."

"I already am," Durell said, "According to the diary he has an estate. There can't be too many of them here in Svetogorsk."

"Hey," Mark said, "Think he knows?"

"Can't hurt to try," Durell nodded, "Let's get him tied up and wake him up."

Mark took the brunt of the man's weight, despite the bad arm. Durell cursed his knees silently and bound him against one of the local trees. He then took a handful of snow and dumped it down the man's back.

"What the..." The man groaned as he regained consciousness, "Where am I?"

"You'll be dead if you don't answer my questions," Durell told him in Russian, "Where is Petrukin's estate?"

"Fuck your mother," the man said, "Why did you hit me?"

"Because I didn't feel like killing you," Durell told him, "That will change if you don't tell me what I want to know."

"They'll kill me if I tell you," the man said.

"I'll kill you if you don't," Durell reminded him, "Which of us is the more immediate threat?"

"Ok," the man growled, "It is on this road, ten kilometers or so up the way."

"How many guards?" Durell asked him.

"How the hell should I know?" the man spat, "I'm not on his guest list. I make occasional deliveries."

"Very well," Durell nodded, "Take another nap and you can start working on getting out."

Durell knocked him out with the butt of his gun again and stood up. Mark looked at him expectantly as Durell steadied himself.

"Ten clicks," Durell said, "On this road. Let's get moving. It will be light soon."

"Not good," Mark said, "They'll be waiting."

"As will I," Durell said softly as he got in the truck, "As will I."

## Chapter 82

General Kahilainen drove like a bat out of hell back towards Helsinki. He did not know what Durell was going to do, but he wanted to be in position to take advantage of it.

All his life he had avoided being any more political than he had to be, but that changed the moment that Paasilinna had become complicit in his execution. He had a reason to join in the counter-revolution that he knew had to be brewing.

He was not thrilled with position that he had been forced into, but he had not been defending his country from outside invaders for thirty years to turn tail and run when the enemy was inside the gates.

He did not hold much hope of ultimate success for Durell, but he had seen more than a little of the man's capabilities. He wished that Durell had been a few years younger and Finnish, for he could have taken over with a few more men like him.

Kahilainen did not hold too many hopes, but he was betting that the American would keep the Russians at bay, or at least distract them long enough for him to do something.

The something, however, was going to be the difficult part. At least he had another hour to ponder it as he drove. He just hoped it was enough time for him to come up with a plan.

## Chapter 83

Timonchenko woke up in a cold sweat at around four in the morning. He had just had another one of the dreams in which Durell had shot him. Just like always happened, his stomach was burning. A part of him knew it was the alcohol, but another part still kept the superstition alive.

He got up and looked at his reflection in the mirror, an image that did not please him. He was not expecting to be where he was at this point in his life and he sure did not like what he saw. Thinning hair, a slightly gaunt disposition, a combination of too many years not eating well and drinking too much.

"He can't get me here," Timonchenko said, "The son of a bitch is in Finland, probably dead by now."

He did not believe it, of course. A part of him knew that Durell would not lie down and die that easily. Especially as long as that girl was here in his custody.

He lit a cigarette as he walked around the room. He knew that there would be no more sleep that night so he got himself up and went to the bathroom to try to get himself moving.

"I should start jogging again," Timonchenko said to himself.

He was considering going outside to get some air when he heard something outside. He looked outside and saw one of Paasilinna's trucks pass by, something he wasn't expecting.

"It's probably nothing," Timonchenko mumbled, but then thought better of it, "Unless..."

## Chapter 84

Durell cursed when he saw the Zil limousines outside the large dacha. He knew that he'd driven too far and that the guards were likely to have seen the truck.

"Fuck," Durell muttered, "We've gone too far."

"Too late now," Mark said, pulling his weapon, "There's motion in the house."

"Cigarette," Durell nodded, "Shit."

"Someone has seen us sure as hell," Mark said, "They're moving."

"Well, since we're here let's kick some ass," Durell nodded, "Hold on. We're busting the gate."

"You're kidding me!" Mark said in horror, "That makes no sense!"

"It'll cause a stir," Durell said, "And it will be the last thing they'll be expecting."

"And maybe the last thing we do," Mark muttered as he held on, "Jesus..."

Durell turned the truck around and started pushing it as fast as he could towards the gate. Mark held on as best he could as Durell hit the gate, sending it flying end over end into the side of the building.

"Here we go," Durell said, "Time for Timonchenko to pay his check!"

## Chapter 85

"He's here!" Timonchenko yelled as the gate hit the side of the house, "Get the guards ready!"

"Who is here?" Petrukin grumbled as he made his way out of the room, "What is going on?"

"Durell," Timonchenko said, "He crossed the border."

"No chance," Petrukin said firmly as the first shots came, "The guards would have shot him."

"Tell that to the men who are dying outside," Timonchenko snarled, "I told you we should have killed him."

"You're paranoid!" Petrukin yelled, "I should have known better than to pick a drunk like you for an operation like this!"

"Then fire me!" Timonchenko growled, "If I survive long enough."

Timonchenko left his boss standing in the top floor bewildered by the events that were happening around them. He made his way down to the first floor and pushed one of the guards against the wall.

"Where is the girl?" Timonchenko growled, "The one I brought in this morning!"

"Downstairs!" the guard said, "We're under attack!"

"Then go kill them!" Timonchenko spat, "I have no more use for you!"

He then physically threw the young man towards the door where he took two bullets from Mark Copeland's pistol. Timonchenko fired two shots back as cover as he ran towards the stairwell.

## Chapter 86

"Two down," Mark said, "Which would be helpful if we knew how many there were."

"Search the house," Durell said, "Don't kill Timonchenko or Petrukin unless you find Kat first."

"I'll do the best I can," Mark nodded, "Kindly don't shoot me, ok?"

"I'll do the best I can," Durell grinned, "Move it. They've got people all over here."

Mark and A.J. split up, Durell going low due to his poor knees. They were both surprised at how few people were in the compound to fight back against them. What they did not know and should have guessed was that most of Petrukin's people were in Finland raising a ruckus over there.

Durell found two men who were barely awake. Neither knew much and ended up dead because they made the mistake of challenging Durell. Durell fired two quick shots and they both fell.

Mark made his way up the stairs and looked for people. He made one mistake that nearly cost him his head, however and did not check behind him. Luckily for him Andrey Petrukin was not the nimble man he was back when he was one of Stalin's men.

Petrukin swung a cane at Mark, but his aim was off just enough that it caught Mark on his left arm, the one that was already covered in plaster. Mark used that arm to block and turned around.

Petrukin did not bother with niceties and tried to hit Mark again. Mark, with the advantage of youth, dodged this one smartly, saving the bullet and letting off a kick to the old man's stomach, causing him to lose his balance.

Mark took another kick and the cane flipped out of Petrukin's hand. Mark then rushed the old man and wrapped the cast arm around his throat. He knew instinctively that he had Petrukin and that Durell would want to talk to him.

"Don't move if you know what's good for you," Mark growled to Petrukin before shouting, "I've got Petrukin!"

"Fuck your mother," Petrukin gasped in English, "I'll have you shot."

"Where are the rest of your men?" Mark asked him, "Where is the girl?"

"Why should I tell you," Petrukin asked him in halting English, "You are dead anyway. You'll never leave Russia alive."

"Neither will you," Mark growled and then shouted, "Durell!"

"Timonchenko isn't on the first floor," Durell said in English as he pulled himself up the stairs, and then switched to Russian, "We meet at last, Andrey."

"So you're A.J. Durell," Petrukin said, also in Russian, "Call your ape off and we can talk."

"Release him and finish securing the floor," Durell told Mark in English, "I can shoot faster than he can run."

"Right," Mark nodded and pushed Petrukin against the wall, "Enjoy your chat, asshole."

Mark did a quick check of the other rooms and did not find anyone at all.

"It's clean," Mark said, "Where the hell is everyone?"

"Let me ask our friend here," Durell said and switched to Russian, "Where is Timonchenko, Andrey?"

"Why should I help you?" Petrukin asked him, "You'll kill me anyway."

"Because," Durell said with a smile, "You've been living a privileged life for too long. You don't remember pain. I would be more than happy to remind you if you don't tell me where Timonchenko has taken Kat."

"You're here for the girl," Petrukin nodded, "You don't care about Timonchenko at all, do you?"

"Other than wanting him dead, no," Durell nodded, "I couldn't care less what you're planning. You could have gotten away with it had you just left me alone. I probably would have taken Kat and left the country."

"Yes," Petrukin nodded, "I should have rethought my position on Timonchenko when you showed up."

"Where is she?" Durell asked him, "I'm not going to ask again."

"Timonchenko went downstairs when you showed up, probably to the makeshift cell in the basement," Petrukin said, knowing he had lost, "Make sure you put a bullet in his paranoid brain."

"Very well," Durell said, "Any last words?"

"Fuck your mother," Petrukin spat.

"Wrong words," Durell said and fired a single shot, splattering Petrukin's brain against the wall.

"Where is she?" Mark asked him, not even fazed by this.

"Downstairs," Durell said, "Timonchenko is probably with her. Let's go."

"Shit," Mark said, "I hope we're not too late."

"Me too," Durell mumbled.

## Chapter 87

Aleksandr Timonchenko was sweating despite the bitter cold. He knew this day was coming. He'd known it since he had been shot by Durell in Czechoslovakia, nearly a decade before. Durell had been the only one to get that close to him in his long career.

"Let me go!" Kat said in Finnish as Timonchenko dragged her along, "I did nothing to you."

"Not a chance," Timonchenko replied in kind, "You're my leverage."

He did not know where he was going, but knew he had to get away from the house. There were not nearly enough guards there to keep them safe from a man of Durell's caliber. He had heard the shots that killed most of the guards before he pulled Kat from the basement and left the back.

"He's here," Kat said, trying to figure a way away from Timonchenko, "He'll keep chasing you if he doesn't get me back."

"You overestimate your importance," Timonchenko said simply, "Now keep moving."

Kat had no choice. She could tell that Timonchenko was not particularly sane. She kept a close eye on him, but he had not let her have any openings. His paranoia had grown to enormous proportions.

"Come on," Kat said, "This is insane. What are you doing?"

"I'll figure it out when I get there," Timonchenko growled, "Shut up and keep moving before I decide you aren't worth the leverage and shoot you."

Kat shuddered a little and shut her mouth. Her hands were still bound, so she knew she had little choice but to go where Timonchenko directed her. She also saw that Timonchenko was badly cracking under the pressure.

"Move it!" Timonchenko demanded, "We're almost there."

"Where?" Kat asked, "There's nothing here!"

"So you think," Timonchenko grumbled and pushed her into the snow, "Sit down!"

Kat watched as Timonchenko cleared some snow off a piece of the hillside. He opened up the hidden door and Kat was surprised to see it open up into a larger cavern.

"What is this?" Kat wondered.

"Where it ends," Timonchenko said, "It is an old base used back during the great patriotic war. Petrukin's father was one of Stalin's lieutenants. It has been his ever since Beria killed his father in '49."

"Lovely," Kat muttered, "What are we doing here?"

"I can think of no better place for a final showdown between Durell and myself," Timonchenko smiled, "Especially since I know this place and he doesn't."

"Figures," Kat said, "Some things never change."

"Get inside," Timonchenko growled, "Now."

"I can't use my arms," Kat complained, "How am I going to get up."

"Fine," Timonchenko growled, picking her up and almost hurling her inside.

Kat nearly lost her footing as she went down the stairs, but managed to get down them without doing a full out tumble. She ran into a far wall, which was surprisingly far back from the stairs.

"Welcome to our battle ground!" Timonchenko announced, reveling in the echo, "Durell! I'm waiting for you!"

Timonchenko dragged Kat towards the back and went to a room that he had been introduced to just after agreeing on this insane mission of Petrukin's. He did not think his boss would be in any position to object to him taking weaponry for his own use. He was sure that Durell had killed Petrukin by now.

"I've always wanted to try some heavy firepower," Timonchenko smiled, "Let's see if these are as good as my father said they were."

Timonchenko opened the door and pulled one of the WWII era Degtyarev DTM machine guns out of the box it had been residing in for years. He slapped on one of the ammunition drums on top of it and readied it.

"It is time to have some fun," Timonchenko said, "I'll just save you for later."

Timonchenko opened another door and found the room empty. It was not much larger than a prison cell, so he pushed Kat in there and went to get ready. Timonchenko held no illusions. He knew that Durell was close and that there was a good chance that he would be killed even if he won. He just wanted to make sure that Durell died first.

## Chapter 88

"Kat is alive," Durell said as they walked into the snow, "Look at the tracks."

"That's sloppy," Mark said, "Even by Timonchenko's standards."

"I don't think he's quite all here now," Durell said, "Petrukin's last request was for me to put a bullet in his paranoid brain."

"That makes him more dangerous, you know," Mark said apprehensively, "I'd rather have him sane."

"I'll take him any way I can," Durell said, "This is probably a trap though. I am going to follow the tracks. Since you're in better shape than I am do a circle around. We outnumber him and that may be our saving grace."

"Do me a favor and reload me," Mark said, "I can't do it with this bum arm."

"Here," Durell said, handing him his pistol, "Put this in your belt for backup. I've got the machine pistols we took off the corpses."

Mark nodded and did so while Durell reloaded the pistol. Once that was complete Durell started heading up the hill, following the tracks. Mark jogged around the bottom of the hill, looking for landmarks.

Durell held his weapon ready as he slowly made his way up the hill. His training and instincts were coming back to him as he followed the tracks.

With the moon high over the sky adjusting to darkness was not a real problem. He was just hoping he could manage to get to where Timonchenko had brought Kat without getting her killed in the process.

When he found the bunker that Timonchenko had opened he chuckled a little. He had heard of these large bunkers but had never seen one in person. He wondered just what Timonchenko thought he was doing.

"Durell!" Timonchenko yelled in English, "Where are you, you son of a bitch!"

Durell readied his machine pistol and slowly entered the doorway, keeping his guard up. He knew that he was at a distinct disadvantage. Timonchenko would know the place better than he would, so entering was a huge risk.

"I know you're out there," Timonchenko yelled, "You may win the battle, but you're going to lose this war! Socialism will rule the world!"

"Neither of us are going to be around to see it," Durell shouted, "Where's the girl, Timonchenko?"

"She's close by," Timonchenko shouted, "Show yourself and I'll let her go!"

"You really don't expect me to fall for that, do you?" Durell shouted as he made his way down the stairs, "You'd shoot me and then shoot her for spite!"

"You've been a most worthy opponent," Timonchenko admitted, "But it is time for this rivalry to end. Only one of us will leave this building."

"Bring it on, Timonchenko!" Durell yelled, "Let's shoot this thing out so I can either die or go home! I don't much care which at this point!"

Durell saw a niche that he could get to and made a quick run and dive over there. Timonchenko saw him and fired a few rounds at Durell that narrowly missed him and made large dents in the steel wall.

"Shit," Durell said, "Where the hell did he get that?"

Mark heard the shots and knew that Durell had made contact. He also heard the echoing and that it had to have come from a concrete building, something relatively enclosed. He looked feverishly for a rear entrance.

Durell wanted to fire up at the area where Timonchenko was firing from, but he didn't know where Kat was. Kat heard the firing and decided to take a risk.

"I'm locked in a storage room!" Kat yelled at the top of her lungs, "Kill him!"

"Shut up, shalava!" Timonchenko yelled and fired a few shots at the door.

Durell took the moment of distraction to do a roll over into another doorway, firing a few shots at Timonchenko as he did so. Timonchenko whirled around and fired back, his closest shot stinging Durell's leg as he pulled it back.

"Too close, Durell," he muttered to himself, "Gotta lure him away from Kat so Mark can get her out."

He stood up and limped into another large cavern. This bunker had evidently been made to hold a lot of people and supplies. It showed the signs of disrepair, but some of the boxes looked almost recent. Durell decided that he needed better firepower if he was going to make it through this.

"You want me!" Durell yelled, "Come and get me!"

Timonchenko forgot about Kat, figuring she was safely locked up, and went down the stairs to fire shots at where Durell was hiding. Durell slipped behind a box, punched it open and pulled out a weapon he was familiar with, a Czech model 57 machine gun.

"Nice," Durell whistled, "Something I actually remember how to load."

Timonchenko fired a dozen shots into the room even though he didn't know where Durell was. Durell kept low and fed one of the 100 round belts into the weapon. Both men knew they were playing a dangerous game, but only Durell actually cared at this point.

"This is insane, Timonchenko!" Durell yelled, "All we're going to accomplish now is killing each other!"

"You had your chance in '86!" Timonchenko yelled as he fired a few more shots, "It's time to finish what we started in Czechoslovakia!"

"Great," Durell muttered, "He's insane. I've pushed him over the edge."

Durell sighed and pulled the slide on the weapon. He knew he was going to have to have a machine gun duel with Timonchenko. He just hoped he could live long enough for Mark to find Kat and get her out of the bunker.

Mark found the front entrance and slid in slowly, listening to the shots and to Timonchenko's banter. He knew that Kat was inside as well and that he could be the ace in the hole.

"Hiding in a hole?" Timonchenko yelled, "Some things never change!"

"You always did like going after the innocents," Durell replied, "Not to mention you can't play for shit unless you're on your home turf!"

Durell picked up the heavy weapon and slid a little to the left. He did not know if Timonchenko knew about the other weaponry, so he decided to let his old adversary have a little fun.

Timonchenko fired a few more shots and then ducked behind some crates. He was not insane enough to think that Durell had come into the bunker unarmed. He also figured that Durell was not alone, either.

Mark crept quietly in, looking for a shot at Timonchenko, but made a mistake and knocked over an iron bar left near the entrance. Timonchenko heard it and fired a line of shots at Mark, one of which caught him in his already shattered arm, the 7.62 round tearing open the cast and pretty well destroying the muscles in that arm.

"Fuck!" Mark yelled as he did a forward roll across the doorway, firing at the time.

Timonchenko dodged the shots and fired a few more rounds at the doorway. Durell took the opportunity to fire a dozen rounds at Timonchenko's position. Timonchenko dodged behind some boxes and fired back.

Mark kept going up the stairs where Timonchenko had started and looked at the damage on his arm. He knew he had to do something to it quickly. The bullet had hit his major artery and he was going to bleed out if nothing was done.

Kat heard the shooting and hit the floor again, kicking at the door in an attempt to get it open and out to help Durell. Mark heard the kicking and figured that it was Kat, so he opened the door.

"Mark!" Kat exclaimed, "Where's A.J.?"

Durell fired a few more shots at Timonchenko's position, this time hitting a crate that was precariously sitting next to the doorway. Timonchenko fired at the ceiling, trying to use ricochet to get Durell.

While Durell was trying to get away from the raining bullets Timonchenko pushed the damaged crate over, blocking most of the doorway. Timonchenko saw some more crates about to fall over and let a kick off to cut off at the bottom one. They fell over and blocked the doorway completely, covering his back.

"It's just us now!" Timonchenko yelled, "Only one of us is coming out of here alive!"

"Mark!" Durell yelled, "Get Kat and get out of here! I don't want to hit either of you by mistake!"

"We've got to help him," Kat said, "Can you get me out of these?"

"Hold your hands apart as far as you can from your body," Mark groaned, "Do it now!"

Kat did as she was told and Mark took aim at the chain on the handcuffs. He aimed the weapon so that the bullet would ricochet away from them and into the wooden boxes behind Kat.

"Good shot," Kat mumbled, "Let's help A.J."

"Tie off my arm," Mark said, "Or I'm going to bleed out..."

Kat nodded and saw the wound on his arm. She pulled a piece of rope off one of the broken crates and tied it as a tourniquet. Mark was looking a little peaked, as he lost a lot of blood.

"We've got to go help him," Kat said again, "Let's go."

Mark nodded and pulled himself up, getting ready to move again. He held the pistol forward and walked down the stairs carefully. Kat stayed behind him, knowing that she was unarmed. They were both dismayed to find the doorway blocked.

"They're trapped," Kat said, "What do we do?"

"A.J.!" Mark yelled, "He's blocked the door!"

"Get out!" Durell yelled as he fired his weapon again, "Mark! Get her back across the border! Now!"

"Come on," Mark said, "Let's get outside before those two bring it down on top of all of us."

## Chapter 89

"It's just us now, Durell," Timonchenko said in Russian because it was easier, "Time to die."

"I guess so," Durell replied in kind, "So what do you want, a duel or just an all out shooting war?"

"You know," Timonchenko said, "We could have been a good team. If I'd had you in Czechoslovakia it might still be a communist state."

"I wouldn't have lasted long," Durell said, "Nonconformists like me didn't last long over there."

"Very true," Timonchenko allowed, "I guess this was inevitable. Now let's have some fun, shall we?"

Timonchenko fired the last of his drum of ammunition and hid behind a crate to put a new drum on the ancient Russian machine gun.

Durell knew that he was a sitting duck where he was and that if he didn't move either Timonchenko would destroy his hiding place or set off the bullets still in the case. He threw an additional belt of ammunition over his shoulder and pulled the weapon up, firing his own cover as he headed for a larger area of the bunker.

This bunker had been designed to act as both a bomb shelter and an ammunition storage facility. The chamber they were in was roughly the size of a large basketball stadium, with a concave concrete roof to give it stability. Considering when it was built it was a masterful piece of work, if not elegant.

After the end of the Finnish part of the Great War the Soviets had used the old bunker as a storehouse for the old weaponry that was no longer needed. Even though most of the weapons, like the old machine guns, were obsolete it went against the Soviet ethos to dispose of them.

This made for an interesting maze for the two men to have it out in. For nearly an hour they stalked each other, firing in vain. Durell's knees were killing him and he was looking for a way to end this.

Timonchenko was feverishly into the game. He wanted little more out of his life than to end Durell's. They fired quite a few bullets at each other to no avail.

Timonchenko, who was in a bit better shape than Durell, climbed up on one of the crates to try to get a better view. It almost worked, but Durell saw him first and they both started firing.

Durell came closest, with one of his bullets grazing Timonchenko's leg, but neither of them got a direct hit. Timonchenko lost his balance and started tumbling. Durell fired at him, but the weapon was too unwieldy to aim accurately and he missed Timonchenko.

Timonchenko fired as he fell, though most of those bullets went in the opposite direction from Durell. Timonchenko managed to flip a little and land on his feet, though the pressure managed to break one of his feet in several places.

Durell, his knees already barely holding up, tried to bring the weapon up to finish off Timonchenko, but did not quite make it. He stumbled a bit and fell towards the Russian, the barrel of his machine gun actually jamming into Timonchenko's stomach.

Timonchenko, wincing from the hot barrel managed to get his weapon up and jabbed into Durell's neck. Neither man moved after that, as they found themselves face to face with old nightmares.

"So who gets to pull the trigger first?" Durell asked him, "Do you realize just how stupid this duel is?"

"I knew it would come to this," Timonchenko shrugged, "Ever since I found out you were in Finland."

"You should have shot me that first day," Durell told him, "Haven't you ever seen a James Bond movie?"

"I told Petrukin that," Timonchenko said, "Look what it got him."

"Dead," Durell nodded, "So how do we end this? Do we both pull the trigger and die in the middle of nowhere?"

"I've got nothing else," Timonchenko said, "You took it all."

"You were working for a flawed system," Durell told him, "You're lucky. Most of the people who lived under it didn't get half of the privileges you did."

"Can't you tell I'm weeping for them?" Timonchenko asked sarcastically, "What the hell did they ever do for me?"

"I don't know why I'm trying to reason with you," Durell said, "I've yet to meet a committed communist with any common sense. They're all idiotic idealists, cowed slogan shouters or cynical psychopaths. And then there is you, who is all of the above."

"You're breaking my heart, Durell," Timonchenko said, "I'm ready to die. I have nothing to live for really. Just so long as I get the satisfaction of killing you first."

Durell saw the Russian's finger tighten on the trigger and started pulling his own. He expected to be dead in a second, fulfilling Timonchenko's mad game of mutually assured destruction.

Luck was with Durell that day, however, as his right knee, badly battered from the long fight and punishing use went out from under him. The old Russian machine gun took longer than the Czech one, so Durell fell out of the line of fire before it went off and climbed upward.

Timonchenko wasn't quite as lucky, as Durell's CZ57 caught him in the shoulder, pushing the Russian backwards and causing him to lose his weapon. Timonchenko flew backwards and rolled over to get out of Durell's line of fire.

Timonchenko knew he was injured badly and wouldn't be getting out. His right arm was just about destroyed by the large round that had hit his shoulder at close range. Only a small layer of tissue actually held that arm on.

Durell knew that he hit Timonchenko but didn't know if the man was dead or not. His right knee was pretty well separated and he knew it wasn't going to hold his weight again.

Timonchenko used his left arm to pull himself up to his feet. His mind was getting a little fuzzy from the blood loss, but he knew he had nothing to lose. Unlike Durell he knew most of what was in this building, having gotten a full tour from Petrukin a couple years before.

Durell, from his position on the floor, could see Timonchenko going for a box with a label he recognized. It was a Russian symbol for biohazards. Durell knew that if the mad Russian released any chemical or biological weapons in this environment they both would die.

Durell fired at Timonchenko, but the Czech machine gun's belt of ammo had jammed when it clattered on the floor. He then tried to get himself up, but his left knee would not cooperate.

"Fuck," Durell growled as he reached for a pistol that had been given to Mark earlier, "I'm not going like this!"

Durell saw a barrel right next to him with the Russian lettering for Diesel fuel. He used it to pull himself up and then pushed it over as he put his weight on his one remaining good leg. The barrel popped it's top and started rolling towards Timonchenko as the Russian feverishly worked on opening the opening the case.

Durell reached for a cigarette and lit it up as Timonchenko managed to open the crate and pull out a vial of white powder. He turned around and looked at Durell while holding the vial.

"Anthrax," Timonchenko said, "One of nature's deadliest toxins. Enough to kill both of us. Any last words before I drop it?"

"Just this," Durell said calmly, "You're fired."

He flicked the cigarette into the petroleum on the floor and jumped behind the crate as the flames started. Timonchenko tried to throw the vial, but the flames came too quick for the injured Russian. The vial flew only a few feet into the flames, destroying the toxin.

Durell knew an explosion was about to take place, so he dragged himself away from the flames. Timonchenko tried to get another vial, but the flames got to the barrel first. Durell heard only screams as the barrel exploded, covering his adversary with burning Diesel.

Without his left leg working properly he was having a hard time moving. Timonchenko, now dying and covered with flames, ran towards Durell in a last ditch attempt to set Durell on fire. Durell easily dodged the burning Russian, using his good leg to trip the flaming man and sending him head first into a box.

Durell breathed a sigh of relief as Timonchenko collapsed into a smoldering heap. It was a short-lived relief, as there was still a raging fire in an underground munitions storage chamber.

Durell pulled himself up onto his good leg and hobbled his way back towards the known entrance. The fire had caught one of the boxes of munitions and bullets were beginning to fly around the concrete room in all directions.

"Shit," Durell grumbled, "Out of the frying pan..."

Durell was breaking no speed records, but he made good time to getting over to the doorway that he had entered before. He pulled gamely at the crate that was blocking the way but it was too heavy for him to move alone.

Durell looked across the floor, looking for another way out. Unfortunately the fire was taking hold on the other side, blocking the way to the only other door he could have used for an exit.

Durell was looking around hard for a way out. He knew he was running out of time. Finally, he saw some markings that he knew could help. He had just opened the box when he saw a smoking man come running at him.

Timonchenko, more corpse than man, had dragged himself up and was psychotic to the point where the burns had no effect on him. Durell blinked and finished what he was doing as Timonchenko came for him.

"Night of the living dead," Durell said, "Jesus!"

Durell picked up a large shard of crate that had been blown off during the earlier firefight. Timonchenko rushed Durell, using the last bit of adrenalin for an attempt to wrap his remaining hand around Durell's throat.

Durell got in position and let Timonchenko rush. He held the spike tightly and thrust it into Timonchenko's chest, slicing the injured Russian's heart in two.

"Death pays all debts," Durell said as Timonchenko's eyes went wide with the knowledge of his demise, "This one is for Mike and Timmy."

Durell pulled the bloody spike out of Timonchenko's chest and rammed it through his temple, ensuring that Timonchenko would not rise again.

The wasted time, however, had allowed the fire to grow worse. Durell saw this and ran towards an office that was going to give him at least some shielding. Weapons exploded to chain reactions that Durell knew would eventually cause a complete conflaguration. He just hoped it did not bring the roof down on his head.

## Chapter 90

"Holy shit," Mark said as he and Kat heard the massive explosion, "What the hell was that?"

"No!" Kat yelled, "It can't be."

"I guess it's over," Mark said, surprised to feel a small bit of tearing on his eye, "Come on. We need to get out of here before the Russians show up."

Kat started sobbing and fell down on the ground as the smoke started billowing out of the still open door. Mark sighed and stood by her, realizing that she needed to get it out before they tried to cross the border back into Finland.

"He can't be dead!" Kat exclaimed, "We've gone through too much. I just got him. Why do I have to lose him now?"

"I know how you feel," Mark said, "I felt the same way when Claire was sentenced. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get her back."

"I should have been in there with him," Kat said, "He gave his life for me."

"He did it willingly," Mark reminded her, "Remember... His instructions were for me to get you out."

"I know," Kat nodded as she wiped tears, "Doesn't make it any easier."

Mark nodded and looked down into the billowing smoke. At first he thought he was hallucinating when he saw something moving. Kat was too busy crying still to see it at first, but she finally noticed that Mark was staring down there with a strange expression on his face.

"What?" Kat asked, "What is it?"

"It can't be..." Mark said, "I don't believe it..."

Kat turned around and looked where he did. Her eyes went wide as she saw what Mark did. A.J. Durell, wearing a WWII surplus gas mask and covered with soot from head to toe, slowly hobbling up the stairs.

Kat started to rush towards him, but Mark used his good arm to pull her back. She fought him a little, but he kept hold and told her why.

"The smoke is toxic," Mark told her, "He's got a gas mask on!"

Kat did not want to listen, but Mark was stronger than she was and managed to keep her from going. Durell saw Kat and managed a little more energy, pulling himself up the stairs using the railing and getting to the top.

When he had mostly cleared the smoke Mark let Kat go to help him. Kat rushed over and Durell wrapped his arm around her, allowing her to help him away from the billowing smoke. When they were all clear he collapsed to the ground and Kat removed the mask.

"Oh my god," Kat exclaimed, "I thought I lost you!"

"I'm like a ruble," Durell muttered, coughing a little, "I'm worthless for most things, but I just can't die."

"You're not worthless to me," Kat told him as she kissed him, "You still need to make good on your promise to bring me to America."

"Only if the Russians don't get us first," Mark said, "Why the hell haven't the authorities come out here yet? That explosion had to have been heard for miles."

"This is Russia," Durell said, coughing again, "Petrukin was once a politburo member. He could commit mass murder here and nobody is going to come out until Yeltsin gives the order."

"How the hell did you survive that explosion?" Kat asked him, "We felt it up here!"

"The place is reinforced concrete designed to survive a bomb," Durell said, "So were the offices. I was trapped and knew it was going to go up. I got lucky and found the gas mask. I hid in an office and let it go, waiting for it to burn out a bit so it was cool enough for me to rush out past the blown away crate."

"So what do we do now?" Mark asked him, "And what happened to Timonchenko?"

"Let's just say that he's not going to become one of the undead anytime soon," Durell said with a smile, "There were some Zil limousines at Petrukin's. We'll hotwire one and head back across the border. The guards will recognize it as Petrukin's and probably just wave us through."

"Worth a shot," Mark agreed, "Beats walking."

"What then?" Kat wondered, "Helsinki?"

"Hell no," Durell chuckled as they started hobbling away, "That's Kahilainen's problem. We'll head north, try to get the Swedish border at Tornio before anyone realizes just what we did here."

"How far is it?" Mark asked, finally seeing freedom, "Not that it won't be worth it."

"400 miles, give or take," Kat said and then turned to Durell, "And what do you mean about Timonchenko not joining the undead?"

"It's a long story," Durell chuckled, "I'll tell you in the car."

## Chapter 91

General Kahilainen spent little time recruiting. Word of the abuses of Paasilinna's Russian friends had been spreading and without Timonchenko to keep things in check it had been getting worse.

Kahilainen managed, by the time that Durell and Timonchenko had had it out in the Bunker, to get a large group of soldiers and politicians, many of whom had been unseated by Kitinoja and Paasilinna's maneuvering.

As the sun came up in Helsinki proper the demonstration had already grown. Kahilainen had taken the lead as the word of his near escape from execution had spread. The march grew and thousands of people marched up to the Presidential palace.

Kitinoja, Paasilinna and Ignatev stood at the windows and watched the angry crowd as it grew outside. They knew that it was not a good sign, especially with Timonchenko unaccounted for. Kitinoja stayed in character and fretted a little. Paasilinna looked and grumbled when he saw who was leading it.

"Kahilainen is alive," Paasilinna said, "Durell probably isn't far off."

"Unless he went after the girl," Ignatev said, "Timonchenko brought her with him as insurance when he went to see Petrukin."

"Either way it isn't good for you," Kitinoja said, "What are you going to do about it?"

"We call out the troops and kill them!" Ignatev exclaimed, "That's what Timonchenko would do!"

"Timonchenko isn't here," Paasilinna said, "And I doubt they'd shoot their own boss."

"Might not be a bad idea to talk to them," Kitinoja suggested, "Kahilainen isn't unreasonable. He never showed political interest before this. Maybe we can deal with him and calm this down."

"That's insane!" Ignatev protested, "Timonchenko would go through the roof!"

"Let him," Paasilinna said, "I'm not going to back down, but this will get worse if we ignore it. Better to meet Kahilainen now and see if we can co-opt him."

"I'll arrange it," Kitinoja smiled, "Be back in a few."

"He's too happy about that," Ignatev said, "We can't trust him."

"We have no choice," Paasilinna said, "We need to stop this now. If I go out there it will enrage the crowd. Kitinoja is neutral enough at this point."

Paasilinna didn't much care about what either Ignatev or Timonchenko had to say. His informants had long before told him about Timonchenko crossing the border with Petrukin and about the missing deliveryman. He was able to put two and two together and figured that either Durell had made it across or that Petrukin had pulled his forces back, making a hasty exit and leaving them to face the consequences alone.

Kahilainen finished with whatever speech he was making and informed the crowd that he was going inside to talk. Kitinoja met him at the door and sent the guards away. He had known Kahilainen for years and knew the man posed no physical threat to him.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Kahilainen said, "I'd think you wouldn't have anything to do with this."

"They need me," Kitinoja shrugged, "Paasilinna can't form a legitimate government without me right now. Gives me a bit of leverage."

"You're playing with fire," Kahilainen said, "You know this."

"That's the nature of the political game," Kitinoja said, "I just wanted to talk to you first."

"Did you know about the execution?" Kahilainen wondered as they walked to the office, "That's what they were about to do to me and A.J. Durell."

"I didn't hear about it until Durell delivered Kurstot's head," Kitinoja assured him, "I wasn't thrilled. There have been many mistakes made. That was one of them."

Kahilainen nodded and walked into the room. He was not at all surprised to find Ignatev there. Ignatev looked increasingly agitated, but Paasilinna was actually smiling.

"Welcome General," Paasilinna said, "I see that you've gathered quite a following out there."

"They are angry about what you and your Russian friends have done here," Kahilainen said, "It is over, you know."

"Timonchenko has already left the country," Paasilinna said, "Change needed to be made. I'm making it."

"With communist thugs?" Kahilainen said, "These men want nothing but domination. You've picked dangerous playmates."

"For a reason," Paasilinna said, "No one else had the resources to effect this type of change so quickly."

"So you sold us down the river?" Kahilainen said, "Did you know about your friend's orders to execute me?"

"You're still angry about that, I take it?" Paasilinna asked him rhetorically, "I had nothing to do with that decision. It seems that Timonchenko has held some things back from me as well."

"Uh huh," Kahilainen said, "Then explain him."

Kitinoja walked behind Ignatev and picked up a large paperweight from his desk. Without fanfare he weighed it in his hand for a moment and raised it quickly, bringing it down hard on the back of Ignatev's skull. The blow was devastating, killing the unsuspecting Russian before he hit the floor.

"Timonchenko was a means to an end," Paasilinna said, "The parliament had been an impediment since Kekkonen retired. This was a means to shake it up."

"We've been planning this since I was elected," Kitinoja explained, "We needed them, but had to moderate them. Some things we could not control. We didn't find out about what they did to your camp until you had disappeared."

"Someone has to answer for that," Kahilainen said, "People are dead because of this."

"Timonchenko and Petrukin can answer for it," Kitinoja said, dropping the paperweight, "You may have a crowd, but we have control. If you fight us you have the start of a civil war on your hands."

"I'm listening," Kahilainen said, "Nobody needs a civil war."

"We're going to reinstate the parliament," Paasilinna said, "We need some time to clean up the mess they made first, though."

"I should have known you were too much a capitalist to go completely communist," Kahilainen said, "So if I agree to this what is to keep you from doing to me what you did to Ignatev and Timonchenko?"

"If you join us you can hold on to the military," Kitinoja offered, "It is fragmented without you anyway. If you can unite it, behind our government, then we will be able to do this faster. The parliament will be restored with new elections and the incumbents will all be barred from office. Maybe we can do it right for a while."

"And what about Timonchenko and Petrukin?" Kahilainen wondered, "What will they do when they find out about this?"

"We received word of a large explosion in Svetogorsk an hour ago," Paasilinna said, "Petrukin's car went through the border and headed promptly north from there. Petrukin hasn't been further than Imatra yet and surely wouldn't come with you here."

"Durell," Kitonja said, "He went after the girl, didn't he?"

"If he killed Petrukin and Timonchenko he did us a favor," Paasilinna said as Kahilainen nodded, "You can rest assured we won't oppose his departure. Better that he leaves than turns on us."

"Very well," Kahilainen said, "I'll take your deal for now to avoid civil war. You fuck me over and I'll bring the war straight to you. Understand me?"

"I think we can agree on that," Paasilinna smiled, "Anything else?"

"I'm going after anyone who had direct knowledge of the rapes and killings," Kahilainen said, "If I find out that you two had direct knowledge..."

"We didn't," Kitinoja said, "It was a byproduct, not the intention."

"Keep it that way," Kahilainen said, "I'm going to go talk to the crowd. I'll let you clean your own mess up in here."

Paasilinna and Kitinoja watched as Kahilainen walked out of the room. The two groups did not trust each other, but knew that if they did not work together then the whole country would go in civil war.

"That went well," Paasilinna said, "Don't you think?"

Kahilainen had not bought any of it, however. He only accepted the invitation to listen to the excuses. He waved in the policemen that were waiting outside.

What Kitinoja did not know was that mixed in with the crowd outside was a majority of the supposedly deposed parliament. One of the policemen handed Kahilainen with an official document.

"What is this?" Kitinoja said, "Who are these men?"

"Policemen," Kahilainen smiled, "You see, by agreeing to see me as a legitimate representative of the crowd outside you allowed a parliament meeting, which convened while we were in here."

"They can't do that!" Kitinoja exclaimed, "We dissolved the parliament!"

"Conspiring with the Russians is treason," Kahilainen said and pulled a microphone out of his shirt, "You admitted it and we have it on tape. This was enough for the parliament to impeach you without a single opposing vote. You are to leave office until a trial can be held."

"You son of a bitch!" Paasilinna yelled, "You can't do this!"

"I am doing this," Kahilainen said, "I can't justify leaving you in power. Not after the way you tried to shortcut the legislative process. You're going to burn for your crimes. Both of you."

"Our supporters..." Paasilinna said, then stopped, "What?"

"Your supporters were duped," Kahilainen said, "You're going to be abandoned faster than Ryti was after the Continuation War. I hope you're prepared for prison, because that's where you're going."

Kahilainen watched at the former president was led away in handcuffs. He knew that since he was in the building he was going to have to fill in until the parliament could get back together to get the trial together.

"General," a young man said, "Yeltsin's foreign minister is going nuts. Evidently someone killed Andrey Petrukin and a half dozen people in Petrukin's Svetogorsk estate."

"Probably Durell," Kahilainen said, "Any word on where the perpetrators went?"

"Petrukin's Zil crossed the border unopposed as usual," the young man said, "It went north. The Russians are asking for assistance in stopping it."

"Let that message get lost for a while," Kahilainen suggested, "It had to be A.J. Durell. Give orders to the northern guards to let them go unopposed into Sweden. The American embassy there should be able to handle them."

"Very well sir," the young man nodded, "Anything else?"

"No," Kahilainen said, sitting down in the chair, "Send someone to collect the body and send me some food. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning."

Kahilainen poured himself a drink from Kitinoja's liquor cabinet and sat down. He knew it was early and he held the glass up.

"Here's to you, Durell," Kahilainen said, "Thanks."

## Chapter 92

"My god," Kat said as she drove, "Kahilainen must have succeeded."

"What do you mean?" Mark asked, "What makes you think that?"

"The radio," Durell said, listening, "The announcers have stopped with the ideological bullshit and are now reporting that the parliament has convened."

"Damn," Mark said, "What about Paasilinna?"

"Paasilinna and President Kitinoja have been arrested for aiding Timonchenko," Durell chuckled, "Way to go, General."

"We're getting close to the border," Kat said, "What do we do?"

"Go through," Durell said, "The Schengen Convention took effect earlier this year. The border between Sweden and Finland should be fairly porous."

"We're driving a stolen Russian Zil," Mark said incredulously, "And we're toting weapons."

"Not to mention we have no travel documents," Kat reminded him, "This isn't a good idea."

"We've got to get out," Durell said, "Not to mention this was Kahilainen's stomping grounds. Any bets?"

"We're too dead to fight," Mark said, "Let's try it."

"Hide the guns," Kat suggested, "I'll try to look pretty. Hopefully they won't notice the car too much."

"All right," Durell said, painfully moving his leg, "Let's go."

The guns were stowed underneath the seat to keep them out of sight. Kat straightened her hair a little and drove to the border crossing. It was fairly deserted, as most of the rush had ended with the announcement of Kitinoja and Paasilinna's arrests.

One of the guards looked curiously at the vehicle and motioned for Kat to roll the window down. It took her a few moments to figure out where the control for it was, but she did so and smiled at the guard.

"Yes sir?" Kat asked him.

"You must be Katarina Pekarininen," the guard said, "General Kahilainen sends his regards."

"I should have known," Kat said, "You knew this would happen, didn't you, A.J.?"

"I'd hoped," Durell said, "I take it there won't be problems with us crossing?"

"None at all," the man smiled, "The Swedish government is expecting you. Keep in the Zil and they will keep you clear until the American Embassy in Stockholm."

"We can do that," Durell said, "Thanks."

The guard nodded and waved them through. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they drove through the guard station and headed south. Mark did not understand a word of the conversation, but felt a lot of relief when the car started moving again.

"What the hell was that?" Mark asked, "That easy?"

"Don't knock good luck," Durell smiled, "We were the decoys. It let Kahilainen do what he needed to do without the hardcore belligerents chasing him."

"Now I'll settle for good medical treatment," Mark said, "My arm still is killing me."

"We'll stop at the Lulea," Kat said, "We'll need another round of gas and medical supplies by then."

"Works for me," Mark said, "I can't believe it. Is it over?"

"It'll never be over," Durell said, "These nightmares are going to last forever."

Kat nodded silently and put her hand on Durell's. Durell merely closed his eyes and let himself relax for the first time since he had been taken only a few days before.

## Chapter 93

As the guard had promised the Zil was not molested in any way during the drive down to Stockholm. They received courteous directions from a police officer in the city limits and made their way quickly to the American Embassy.

Kat poked Durell as she pulled up to the gates. The guards, having been forewarned by Ambassador Shearer, simply opened the gates and let the Zil in. She parked it in a space and let Durell wake up a little.

"Did I sleep the whole trip?" Durell asked, "Man."

"It's ok," Kat told him, "You needed it and you couldn't have worked the clutch with that knee anyway."

"Mark," Durell said, "You still alive?"

"Barely," Mark said, waking up a little, "I'm trying to forget just how bad my arm hurts right now."

"We're in Stockholm," Durell said, "On American soil no less."

"About fucking time," Mark said and then calmed a little, "Damn... We survived."

"Let's find out," Kat said, "Ambassador Shearer is coming down the stairs now."

Durell nodded and opened the door. He slid out and tried to stand up, forgetting his destroyed knee and nearly fell onto the pavement. Mark was a bit more graceful, as both his legs were working. He went over and offered Durell his good shoulder to lean on until Kat made it over to him.

"I see you made it," Shearer said, smiling, "You three look like hell."

"We've been there," Durell said, "I pissed in the Devil's drink and kicked him in the balls."

"So we heard," Shearer nodded, "Come on inside. We'll talk in English while the Swedish docs work on your injured hides."

The guards looked on as the injured men made their way into the Embassy. They were led to Ambassador Siebert's office. The Ambassador looked at them and winced at the obvious wounds they carried. A blanket was laid over the couches in the room so they could sit down comfortably without bleeding on the furniture.

"I'd heard how bad it was," Ambassador Siebert said, shaking his head, "But the reality of it is horrifying."

"We're the lucky ones," Durell said, "We got out alive. I left two good men dead over there."

"We're in contact with Kahilainen's provisional government," Shearer told him, "They have the bodies of your men and they'll be shipped back to the US for proper burial when things calm down."

"Small comfort," Durell said, "So what happens now?"

"I have some questions on behalf of the government," Ambassador Siebert said as the doctors came in the room, "Ambassador Shearer is here as a courtesy, since you saved his rear over there. If you have no objection we can talk while the doctors check you out."

"That's fine. Take care of Mark's arm first," Durell said, "What do you want to know?"

"The Russians found Petrukin and put two and two together," Siebert said, "No sign of Timonchenko was found and the Finns want to put him on trial. Is he still loose?"

"Timonchenko is dead," Durell said, "His body was probably consumed in the underground explosion in the bunker. If they sift through the rubble enough they might find a tooth or something."

"How bad do the Russians want us?" Mark asked, "We did create a bit of a mess over there."

"Officially you are wanted criminals," Siebert said, "But that's only for the locals of the area. As far as Yeltsin himself is concerned he is glad Petrukin is dead and will be gratified to hear that Timonchenko won't be able to stand trial for what he did."

"So we become wanted?" Kat said, "That doesn't sound right."

"I've been technically a fugitive from Soviet justice for over a decade now," Durell shrugged, "I take it that they aren't going to make any moves for extradition."

"Yeltsin would prefer it to just disappear," Siebert shrugged, "The Finns aren't going to press any charges, especially with Kahilainen a good bet to succeed Kitinoja as president."

"How about the state department?" Durell asked, "Any problems from them?"

"You're kidding right?" Shearer asked him, "I'd kick Bill's ass if he did anything but cooperate fully."

"We've been given leeway to work with you fully," Siebert acknowledged, "As soon as the doctors finish with you we'll ship you back to the states on our dollar. You're even up for a medal."

"I'll settle for going home," Mark said, "Do I get a discharge from the army if I want it?"

"I can arrange that," Shearer promised Mark and then turned to Durell and Kat, "I assume you want a permanent visa for her."

"I would," Durell acknowledged, "Is that what you want, Kat?"

"Do you come along with it?" Kat asked him.

"You think I'm going to let go now?" Durell asked her, "After nearly getting myself killed to get you back from Timonchenko?"

"Then the answer is yes," Kat said, "I'd love to get a permanent visa to the US."

"How is Teri?" Durell asked, "Where is she?"

"She was flown to Bethesda once she was stabilized," Shearer told him, "They told me that she was doing better and was transferred to a hospital closer to home. We are picking up the tab for her injuries by the way. Least we can do at this point."

"So when can we get out of here?" Durell asked, "No offense to the Swedes, but I want to go home now."

"As soon as the doctor patches you up enough that you can fly," Ambassador Siebert said, "Your friend looks like he'll need surgery. Probably two or three days."

"We can wait that long," Durell said, "Though I won't be submitting to surgery until I get back to the states, thank you."

"You're not going to worm out of the knee replacement now," Kat said, "That knee is destroyed."

"I just want to be able to recuperate in my own apartment, thanks," Durell told her, "Nothing else."

"The muscle damage isn't bad," the doctor told them about Mark's arm, "The bones need to be reset. I can get an orthopedic surgeon tonight if you'll submit to it."

"Do it," Durell said as the doctor moved over to him, "It's going to get worse if you don't do it now."

"And you won't?" Mark asked him.

"My knee isn't an open wound," Durell said as the doctor prodded him, "Nothing short of a full replacement will calm the pain either."

"X-rays would tell me more," the doctor said, "But from prodding it I think you aren't far off."

"The doctor back home has been telling me to replace that knee for years," Durell explained, "I'll have to do it now."

"I can set it in a cast," the doctor said, "That might help a bit."

"I'll pass," Durell said, "Though if you could have a pair of adjustable crutches brought over with an ace bandage..."

"We can do that," the doctor said, "No problem."

Mark went with the doctor, surprisingly still under his own power. Ambassador Siebert excused himself and left Durell, Kat and Ambassador Shearer alone in his office."

"Thank you," Ambassador Shearer said, "I'd be a corpse if you hadn't come along."

"Good timing," Durell said, "It worked out for both of us. If it hadn't been for Mark's help I'd probably be dead too. I wouldn't have met him without going to get you."

"I'd like to do something for him too," Shearer said, "Getting him a discharge is nothing really. At least I was able to get you two the permanent visa and the travel."

"I can think of something," Durell smiled, looking at Kat, "It may be difficult, but with your connections I think you can pull it off..."

## Chapter 94

A.J. Durell, Katarina Pekarininen and Mark Copeland landed at the Raleigh Durham International Airport at three in the afternoon. They had spent a little longer in Stockholm than they had expected while the doctors repaired the damage in Mark's arm.

"I never thought I'd enjoy a landing that much," Mark said as he looked out the window of the aircraft, "We actually made it back to the states."

"It's beautiful," Kat smiled, "I've dreamed of this for a while."

"Me too," Durell said with a smile, "But not for the same reasons."

Kat smiled and pressed closely against Durell's side. Mark sat and watched them wistfully, dreaming of his own days of being able to do that. Kat caught the look and flashed him a smile as well.

"Let's touch the ground, shall we?" Durell asked them, "It's been too long."

The government jet pulled up to a terminal and the door opened. Kat helped Durell up and got his crutches from the overhead compartment. Mark got up and stretched out, walking slowly towards the front.

The three of them walked out into the terminal with little fanfare. There were no crowds waiting, no reporters with cameras. It was a slow time of day for this terminal so there was nearly nobody there at all.

Kat walked close to Durell, who had taken to his crutches well and made decent speed. It was Kat who saw them first, two uniformed cops and a young woman wearing an orange jumpsuit. She poked Durell, who looked up and nodded at them.

The young woman was pale and her straight hair was cut in a very unstylish manner. She looked confused and very tired, as if she had been rushed to get where she was going.

Mark, still sulking a little, was the last one to see her. His eyes went wide when he recognized her and he started running towards her. She did not recognize him at first, until his features became clearer.

"Claire!" Mark exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

"He did it," Durell grinned, "Shearer pulled it off."

Mark ran over to Claire and tried to hug her, something difficult when one has only one arm and the object of the affection is handcuffed.

Durell smiled as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. The agents made their way over to him and looked him over. Kat wondered what was going to happen next.

"A.J. Durell?" one of the agents asked, "I'm Agent Daigen of the FBI."

"Good afternoon," Durell said, "I'm Durell."

"I've been told to relinquish custody of the prisoner to you," Agent Daigen said, "Evidently President Clinton did not want to pardon her completely, but commuted her sentence to time served and probationary custody will be placed in your hands for the rest of her sentence."

"That works," Durell said, "I take it I need to sign something?"

"Yes sir," Agent Daigen nodded, "I have the probation orders here."

"Let me read them and I'll sign," Durell agreed, "Meanwhile take her cuffs off so she can hug him properly please?"

"My pleasure," Daigen said, "Go for it, Andy."

"How?" Mark asked her, "I thought you would be in there for a few more years..."

"They offered me a deal," Claire said as her cuffs were removed, "A commutation to probation as long as I agreed to work for Mr. Durell. I took it and hoped I could let you know. I should have known you'd be here."

"I knew nothing about it," Mark said, looking at Durell and Kat, "I take it you had something to do with this?"

"I convinced Shearer that I needed people to replace Mike and Timmy," Durell grinned, "I figured that if she was good enough to work with you on the streets then both of you would be a good addition to my team."

"I'm in," Mark said, "Especially if it means I get Claire back."

"Excuse me," Agent Daigen said, "The papers please?"

"Sure," Durell nodded, skimmed the pages and signed them, "Here."

"Thank you," Agent Daigen said, "Her stuff will be delivered to your address later this week."

Durell nodded and leaned against Kat as they watched Mark and Claire kissed each other deeply. Kat pecked Durell on the cheek and smiled happily as they watched.

"Let's go home," Durell suggested, "You can get out of the Jumpsuit, Claire and we can finally relax and try to get the horror of this trip behind us."

## Epilogue

"Welcome home," Teri said as she wheeled into Durell's living room, "Thank god you live on the first floor, A.J."

"With my knees, I'm glad too," Durell said, "How much shit did the docs give you about leaving the hospital?"

"They want me back for nights," Teri said, "But I'm moving around a bit better now."

"Looks like we have a full house now," Kat said as she sat down next to A.J., "Any regrets now?"

"Yeah," Durell sighed, "Mike and Timmy. They paid the ultimate price for Timonchenko's folly."

"True," Teri said, "Are you planning on going back into business?"

"Eventually," Durell said, "We're going to live off the 2.5 Mil for a while and I'm going to get my knees replaced. I'll be down a good six months to a year with that."

"Maybe we'll all be healed by then," Mark chuckled, "Doctors say it'll be that long before I can use this arm again."

Durell nodded and lit a cigarette. He knew he was going to have to cut down on them now that Kat was here, but he wasn't going to quit completely. He was enjoying the smoke when his doorbell rang.

"Jesus," Durell said, "Who the hell knows we are back?"

"I don't know," Teri said, "I've been back for over a week, but I didn't tell anyone about you."

"Don't look at us," Mark said as he looked up from Claire, "We've been too busy to notice."

"I'll get it," Kat said, "Who knows."

Kat went to the door and opened it up. Durell was surprised to see Matti Roto, the Finnish Ambassador who had hired him for the job, walk in the room.

"That was quick," Durell said, "I've been back less than a day."

"I heard you came in this afternoon and figured I'd pay you a visit," Roto told him, "I take it that this is Katarina?"

"Yes," Kat nodded, shook his hand and promptly sat down, "I am."

"So why are you here?" Durell asked him, "I hope not to offer me another job. The last one didn't turn out so well, you know."

"I think you completed it admirably," Roto said, "So does my government, which is now a democracy again thanks in a large part to your actions."

"I was caught in the middle," Durell said, "I just fought my way out of it."

"Even so," Roto said, "My government feels that we owe you the rest of your payment. General Kahilainen feels that you went way above the call. Consider this a token of our gratitude."

Roto handed over a government check made out to his company for five million dollars. Durell was a bit taken aback, as he had already collected 2.5 million as a pre-payment before.

"You've earned it," Roto said, smiling, "I have to return to Washington for an affair of state tonight, but I wanted to deliver this in person."

"I can see why," Durell said, whistling a little, "Thank you."

"No," Roto said, gripping Durell's hand tightly, "Thank you, Mr. Durell."

Roto took his leave and left the group sitting there with a bit of shock.

"I don't think we have to work for a while," Durell said, smiling, "We just hit the big payday."

"Too bad Mike and Tim aren't here to enjoy it," Teri sighed, "I miss them."

"So do I," Durell said, "I think a million of this will be going to create a scholarship fund or something in their memories."

"I think that's a great idea," Kat said, "I just can't believe it is all over."

"The worst part is over," Durell said, "But the dreams are just beginning and those may never end."

"Beats the alternative," Mark said, "Right A.J.?"

"I guess you could say that," Durell said, "Come on, this is a celebration. What say we order pizza?"

"Some things never change," Teri groaned, "You're handed a five million dollar check and you order pizza?"

"I'll get one with anchovies, just for you," Durell grinned, "How's that?"

"I'll take him as he is," Kat said, "Don't ever change."

"I'll place the order," Mark said, "As long as you dial for me, Claire?"

"Sounds good to me," Claire smiled.

A.J. Durell looked around at the people around him and could not help but smile. He knew that these people were more of a family than he ever had growing up. Things were finally back to normal again, at least as close as they ever would be.

***The End***

## Other Titles by Rodney Mountain

Immortal Universe Novels

The Healy Murders

Durell's Insurrection

Undercover

The Killer Strikes

Anoki's Revenge

The Immortal Progression

Corporate Immortality

Not With A Whisper

The Mullinix: Ascension

The Mullinix: Redemption

The Mullinix: Resolution

Other Works

Night Strike (Short Story Anthology)

The Black Fossil

