BETRAYAL

The gunshots rang out as John Munro and his mentor, Harry Vaughn walked away from meeting what was supposed to be a reliable informant. The gunshots whined off the brick walls and tarmac outside the school, which had been closed for two years pending reconstruction. The dust flew up, blown by the cold November winds that would soon bring snow to Moscow's streets.

John cursed as he and Harry ducked, but the informant barely moved. He had a look of resignation on his scarred, lined face.

The CIA had been left with egg on it's face after September Eleventh of 2001, and then there had been the shakeup and a long drawnout battle with the FBI, NSA and Homeland Security for funding for training, personnel and everythiing else.

There had been timesa when John thought Harry would have given up, but he didn't. In the last couple of years, Harry had felt they were getting closer. Thanks to the diplomats, aid programs and the increased dedication by military and civilian agencies to gathering information by satelites, Remotely Piloted Vehicles and Signals Inteligence, they felt better prepared. And Ivan Bogorenko had provided reliable information before.

The former KGB language instructor and field agent had provided everything from information on heroin trafficking by the Mafiya who bought opium from Afghan and Chechen networks, to Al Qaeda's attempts to by small arms, explosives and even nuclear materials. He had been confirmed by British Intelligence and Israel's small but thorough MOSSAD service, and he was known to be reliable, if somewhatr expensive.

And they had spent twenty minutes standing in the parking lot at the old high school which was now closed, listening to him. The man was fighting cancer, with chemotherapy and now radiation seeds, but he was looking very emaciated, and his eyes were constantly rolling back in his head and he would start coughing and shaking as his body was wracked with pain.

"You should come to the embassy. We can get you out and get proper medical treatment in America. Maybe even the famous Mayo clinic. Get you a nice pretty nurse that looks like Pam Anderson."

"This is my penace, Yankee. Years of lying and killing and protecting those who tortured and betrayed my fellow Russians. All while I drank too much, smoked too much and indulged in drugs and women.At least I will leave a small inheritance to my daughter and my son's children.

I must tell you that there are stories going around the favourite watering holes that some of myt former partners in crime have thrown in with a man in the Middle East. A man even more brutal than the Chechens.

It is said he has assembled a small army of killers, spies, businessmen and clerics from al over, from Morocco to Malaysia. Men who might not be thought of as a threat. And they have begun smugling weapons and men into America. I do not know if this is what we used to call disinformatskaya. Disinformation you know? But I know that the evidence points to someone supporting a student at Moscow State University. Perhaps a Turk or Egyptian.

There have been many of them the last ten years since the Cold War ended. Even a few Americans. There must be someone who got into the files and paperwork of professor Davidoff two years ago before he died. After his body was found they did a thorough autopsy and there were nosigns of forced entry." And then the infoprant broke off and was wracked by a spasm of coughing. Then he straightened up, and gave John anwry lok before shaking his head and continuing. He was making an effort, perhaps remembering those who had done everything to fight off the Germans, the drug pushers and the Chechens and the Chinese.

"You remember the West thought he was taking payoffs from the Mafiya or Pakistan to help them acquire nuclear materials. I worry if we have not missed something. The KGB and MVD and even the high and mighty GRU military experts think all the papewrwork is intact and that there is no sign that plans for warheads have gone missing. But I can't sleep at night with this pain, and I have a feeling in my bones that perhaps we are about to suffer a tragedy even greater than the one in New York City.

You must make the GRU and the KGB listen, but you must make it an independent investigation. They ae too proud to admit that something might have slipped out of their grasp and been used to threaten the West. I am too old to stop it now. But at least your children and my grandchildren will be safe. And free. Strange to say those words to Americans, but I do love our freedom."

Harry nodded, and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his Gore Tex jacket.The former Army Ranger and Army Intelligence expert was due to retire next year. But he was determined to spend his very last day opening people's eyes.

"Maybe we can go over the reports again? There must be something we missed. "

"I remember now it was a Turk they suspected. his father is with a shipping firm. The Egyptian drowned while in Odessa for a three day vacation with some freinds of his. They said he went swimming too soon after eating, and devel;oped cramps but they were to far off. He was a bright engineer and electrician. Do you know, I remember the man who investigated the Egyptian went to Alexandria and when he came back he said something on his cell phone about the Americans being overloaded with to many problems and trying to find a nuclear bomb would be their undoing. He kept saying that. Not anything about an explosion or fallout, but an overload."

And something about his posture and his eye movements began to make John nervous. He'd seen the same thing in Afghanistan when he was a sniper, and he reached into his computer case, and produced the five thousand dollars in cash he'd promised. Then he shoved his hand back in and grabbed the Springfield XD polymer-framed .45 pistol.

"Maybe you could give me this man's name and your associates. If they aren't afraid of attacking America, then maybe Russia will be next. They must read in the papers about Russia's concern about China building up and the success of Russia's new helath care and eductaion initiatives. Maybe even this school will re-open someday. If they provide us with information, we can stop this nightmare and everyone will win." Harry sighed, and the Russian nodded, and trembled again, and then John began to turn and look around him.


"Does this man have many freinds in America?"

"He knows everyone in America. He has met with people at the Pentagon and CIA Langley. Even your boss Philip Marconi. You remmeber the gift he got when his wife got sick? "

And John realised right there and then that they'd been betrayed. The pistol came out of the satchel and he was dropping to one knee as he shoved Harry down and he whirled, his movements limited. The steel plates inside the Second Chance denim jacket were heavy and it wasn't exactly like a John Woo movie, where some actor wore a light jacket and could fire off a thousand rounds in the blink of an eye. It was cold and John wore a heavy jacket designed to protect undercover police officers from gunfire.

The burst of gunfire from the men charging across the field missed, hitting the wall and the ground, but then a second burst erupted from the man crawling out of the dumpsterand it ripped into the Russian, and he dropped to his knees and then fell on his back.

John was shouting as he fired two rounds into the target, and when the man didn't get up again it was a relief. He probably wasn't wearing body armor. John crawled forward and checked the informant, but his lung and heart had been ripped to shreds by high velocity bullets. John reached into the pockets of the greast coat and began searching. He pulled out the five thousand dollars and stuffed it in one pocket, and found a 1GB memory stick that he shoved into a top pocket.

"You got the keys Harry?"

And then there was shouting. Some couple in a BMW 525i must have been on their way home and decided to take a trip down memory lane. John could see the look on the woman's face. Most of the upper-middle class yuppies in Moscow were people who had risen above the poverty and desperation after years of sacrifice and hard work.But they weren't saints. Nepotism and corruption didn't make them any better than the people she was scowling at.

"Mafiya killer! Rot in hell! I call the police!"
And then the windshield of the car was hit by several bulets, and the driver, a man shouted, before they both ducked and the car roared off down the street. There was a faint thud as the body of the car was hit several times, but they must have made it because there was the sound of screeching tires and then the roar of the BMW's V6 as they headed for shelter.

Harry was lying there, the red stain on his sweater getting bigger and deeper by the second. But he grinned and managed to pull the Smith and Wesson Model 19 revolver from his pocket.

"What the hell are you waiting for? Your damn paycheck? Get the hell out of here while I buy some time for you kid. Get those bastards. And when you find our boss, nail his butt to the wall. Don't call Langley. Oh Christ I'd forgotten how bad it hurts to be shot! Damn! Call Brian Morris at NSA. I've got his number. Call him at home. Now get going and don't forget to take care of my sister."

"Thanks Harry." John whispered, and puled the keys out of Harry's inside pocket, then crouching, began to hurry backwards. His mentor rolled onto one side, and the men were advancing. not all bunched together but a few feet apart, at a steady trot, clutching folding-stock AKs.

John aimed and fired off the rest of the clip from his Springfield, and then Harry roared in his best Russian.

"Go to hell you bastards! "

The roar of six .357 Magnum rounds was something that John hadn't heard in a while. And he'd never seen Harry draw down on anyone. Only on the range.

He ran across the parking lot, zig-zagging and reloading on the run like sergeant Max Bennett had taught him, and then he was on the street and heading for the rented Volvo wagon.

It was as he put the car keys in that he realised the computer case was still slung on his shoulder. That had been the sound on the tarmac as he'd hurried bakcwards. And he wondered for a moment how durable those Panasonic ToughBooks were. But he climbed inside and put the case on the passenger seat, and then opened the laptop and hit the power button, before turning the key in the ignition.

As he roared up the street, he could hear the chatter of the Kalashnikovs, and then as he reached the end of the street, he heard the bark of the revolver one more time. Harry had died the way he lived, always thinking of others instead of himself.

The headlights of the Volvo showed him that despite the improvements in Moscow since Gorbachev had brought an end to the Communist menace, there were still ugly things in the city. This time it was garbage, prostitution, derelicts and potholes. He managed to avoid the worst of the jagged holes, but a couple of thuds rocked the car. And then he could hear and feel the air rushing out of the tire.

He pulled the car over, and left the keys in the ignition. He didn't have time for it. The computer, thankfully, was working, and he quickly found the notes and Harry had left a couple of phone numbers. He hauled out his cell phone, and dialed the number of former United States Navy Inteligence officer Brian Morris. He stuffed the laptop back in the case and was quickly across the street and into the club. it was frequented by Goths and headbangers. The last time John had been here, there had been a concert by one of those pro-wrestlers. Mongoose-something. It had almost been a riot.

John paid the cover charge to a woman who had shaved half her head and the other was streaks of red and blue. She winked and he shook his head as he pushed his way through the crowd and into the bathrooms.

The band had taken a break but now everyone poured out of the toilets to hear their second set. John dialed the number and waited impatiently. The first screams from a guitar and the machine gun-pounding of the drum almost made him jump out of his skin.

"Hello? Brian Morris here. How can I help you?"

"It's John Munro. Harry is dead or dying. He told me to call you. Our informant is dead too. I think Marconi's been bught. And our informant overheard Yevgenii Moschenko talking to poeple about an overload. I think they have a nuke or more than one in the States. He also mentioned Professor Davidoff and an Egyptian student who died. It could be that-"

"He was picked up in London this morning. Avi Marad. It's been our best break since I don't know when. Some cop in Moscow did their homework instead of drinking too much. Sent the fingerprints and dental records to Interpol. And we ae certain that he knows poeple here. We have phone records of a woman in Houston and her boyfreind in Galveston. Works on the docks. Yeah I think we are looking at something damn serious. but nothing's gone off with the NEST teams or anything. it must be-oh Jesus. I'm at my computer and I found it.

Overload is the code name of a test of one of those damned flux compressor bombs we tested in oh three. It will generate an Electro-Magnetic Pulse without a nuclear bomb going off. Oh Christ almighty! There will be no radiation and no fallout, but they will turn the lights out in any city. Airplanes will fall out of the sky. No electricity or cell phones or radio or anything.

I've got to call my boss and then the White House.I should probably call the FBI and FEMA if it wil help. Are you safe? it sounds like you are in the middle of a Led Zep concert."

"These poeple are a lot louder than Led Zep ever were. Some Black Sabbath tribute band. I gotta move. I think I can get to the Aquarium."John sighed,and remembered the layout of the GRU facilities at Khodinka airfield.

"You do that buddy. Let's get these bastards and hope we can find them before they move their stuff."

"Just make sure you find Marconi and shoot the bastard. And tell Harry's sister and keep her safe."

"First thing I'll do. You got any idea who is behind this?"

John pulled out the laptop again, and found the files. Then he used the Memory Stick to look through more files by the informant. And he noticed the Muslim names.

"Remember that day when Diane Sawyer interviewed Rani Khalifa? She was talking about those guys who killed her mother and brother and shot her dad. The look she gave the camera. She has money and her fiancee is Syrian. i'd bet my eyeballs she's behind it. Her dad goes to mecca every year, but he's never been the type. I would bet you anything it's her. Her dad has offices in Moscow and New York and they have ships going into Murmansk, New York and Philadelphia all the time."

"Khalifa's shipping empire. lot of people and a lot of docks. but I can run it down. Find the GRU and telll them everything."

"I just hope this doesn't mean we'll start threatening Iran or Syria. Just the individuals. We don't need another invasion to provoke them. :et's just keep this professional."


"Always do kid. Go find some freinds to help you kid."

"Yeah.Hey, would you call my folks and let them know I'm allright?"

"Yeah yeah. The things I do for you Army guys. Get your ass to the Aquarium."
And John turned off the computer and the cell phone, and then put them in the case and hurried out the door.

In the club, he could see a couple of police officers and then he saw a tall man with a hand stuffed inside his trenchcoat. He was looking all over the place and then he saw John. John whipped around and began pushing through the crowd, and kicked open the emergency escape door. From there, it was a nightmarish stumble through a garbage filled alley and past a derelict fellow in a fur hat and blankets. And John was almost in the street when the bullets struck the wall. he threw himself into a pile of garbage bags and brought up the gun, and fired four shots into the tall man who held an MP-5K machine pistol. The body hurtled back into the club, and the dloor swung closed. A scond later there was an outbreak of screams, followed by the guitars wailing.

"You kill Mafiya? They sell drugs to truck drivers. They drove bad and killed my wife and son." the man sighed, and John reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of cash and threw it into the man's lap.

"Fuck the Mafiya. They try to ruin life for everyone. Get yourself some food and a bed for the night comrade."

John hurried down the sidewalk and into a shopping complex, and he remembered his last trip. He pushed open the doors and the security guard was walking towards him.

"We are closing sir. We-"

'There were two men killed at the school over on Govorniy Prospekt. My freind died. I am an American and I need to get to Khodinka airfield to meet with your government's agents. I must get through the mall. "

"Go up the stairs and down the hall to the lingerie shop. Turn there and take the emergency door to the stairs. It will be two flights down to the garage and up the ramp to the bus stop. They run past that airfield all the time."

And John was running as fast as his Lugz could carry him, up the stairs and down the hallway, past book stores, a pharmacy and a china shop. At the lingerie shop, he could see the janitor moping the floor. But he was able to slow down just enough and leap to the bench and run it's length and leap to the dry floor.

It was a breathless and terrified John Munro who was able to reach the bus stop and jump into the bus just in time. He stuffed several bills into the driver's hand and then he walked halfway down the length of the bus. An older woman in a Burberry trenchcoat turned and looked at him.

"You look awful. Did you hear those Mafiya murdered peple by the old school? I went there and so did my Boris. And they even fired shots at Doctor Pederenko and his wife. Thankfully they escaped unharmed but is getting worse this city."

"If the police move fast they will get those kilers and make sure this city will be safe for everyone."

And John sat back and took a deep breath before loking out the window. Several police cars roared past and then he could see in the distance, the lights of the airfield and the buildings.

"I hope we're in time Harry. I hope to God we're in time."

Twelve minutes later, he was standing at the bus stop as the bus roared off, and he could see two mnen in unfirom standing at the gate, clutching the new AKS rifles at port arms. These were not tired kids who would soon be relieved of their duties to be sent to look for work in civilian jobs. They were hardened killers, skilled in the ways of the paratroops and elite Spetsnaz.

"You are Munro? Colonel-general Koriyev is on the phone with your National Security Advisor. We are told to escort you to his office. and-"

And John had been so relieved to be at his destination that he had failed to notice the approaching van. It had lurched to a halt a hundred and fifty yards away and men were throwing themselves out. Men with guns.

John turned himsefl to one side, offering a minimal target and drew his Springfield, but it was the two young men at the gate, and a man at the door who shouldered their rifles, and didn't wait. They shouted and opened fire with controlled bursts of their weapons and the van was turned to Swiss cheese.

A couple of bullets ripped past John's face, but he knelt and aiming, fired three into one man in the leg and torso. The others were dropping and it was over.

"Quickly! Into the building! I am major Sonya Beregov! Quickly!"

And John ran across the road and found himself stuffing his pistol into his sholder holster, and pulling out the passport from his pocket.

The woman was tall, at about five foot ten, and she looked like she spent most of her time at the gymn.

"Welcome to the headquarters of the GRU, sergeant Munro. I wish the circumstances were beter."

"They must have plans for the type of flux compression generator that professor Davidoff designed. A non-nuclear EMP generator. There were rumors an iranian electrician was helping to evelop one, but you know the KGB. Kept saying they couldn't figure out how to build a decent rocket let alone an e-bomb. If those go off in Moscow or Washington it's all over. We'll be in the Dark Ages."

"We must hurry if we are to avoid a disaster. But I know a man who can help."

And the two ran into the lobby and towards ehe elevator. John couldn't help but admire the way the woman handled things.

"You have no idea how relieved I am that the Russians are on our side."

"If you Americans elected decent men instead of morally corrupt idiots, we might not be in this mess right about now. Either right wing idiots who act like trigger happy red necks or Democrats who waste money and reate paperwork and sex scandals. I have been to America. You poeple might be better off without electricity and the pollution from so many cars." she snapped, and pressed a button to send them to the fifteenth floor. John let out his breath slowly, and closed his syes. This might be worse than he'd thought, but at least he could talk to them about Harry and show them the files from the informant.