Chapter 19

19

May 12, 8:07 A . M . MSK

Sergiyev Posad, Russian Federation

Hiking along a trail through the wooded park, Tucker kept an eye on the clutch of black-robed women strolling along another path. Even knowing Seichan was one of the four, he could not pick her out.

The group moved with a silky brush of their robes, and though they kept a decorous stride, they spoke animatedly in Russian, often waving an arm back toward the Lavra's towering walls behind them or pointing at the spring flowers poking their buds out of the damp soil.

Just tourists appreciating the sights.

Their two routes paralleled each other, both aiming for the next street.

"That's the place, da ?" Yuri whispered next to him. "Up ahead."

Tucker frowned at the hulking man, not because he was wrong, but because Yuri had been instructed to speak only Russian. They both wore green military fatigues, including matching berets. The plan was to blend in as two soldiers on leave. Yuri accentuated his disguise with a half-empty vodka bottle gripped by its stem.

Tucker had his own accessory to help maintain his cover. He held Kane's leash. The Russian army employed its own cadre of military working dogs, many of them Malinois. Kane was already wearing his vest, which to the casual eye looked like a stout harness. In addition to the visual look, the presence of Kane went a long way in discouraging any bystanders from approaching too closely or challenging Tucker's fluency in Russian. A stern nod from him had proved good enough so far.

Tucker responded to Yuri, subvocalizing to demonstrate the throat mike. "Yes, that's Sychkin's house directly ahead."

" Da, o verno ," Yuri whispered, chagrined.

Ahead, at the corner of Ilyinskaya Street, a five-story brick mansion rose above the tree line. It was crowned by a steepled tower with mullioned windows facing the Trinity Lavra. The house sat on an acre of gardens. It had once been a dacha , a Russian country home—until eventually, the town grew around it.

The mansion was the residence of Leonid Sychkin, going back generations in his family. During the Soviet era, many of the rural dachas had been taken over and turned into communal living quarters, but not this place. Stalin had granted an exception to the Sychkin family. Mostly due to the largesse of Leonid's grandfather, who had gifted Stalin with one of the family's other dachas , one outside of Saint Petersburg.

Tucker had learned much of the family's history from the trio of nuns—sisters Uliana, Maria, and Natalia—who escorted Seichan. Having grown up here, they had no love for Stalinist partisans. Worst of all, none of them believed Leonid had come into his faith from a true calling, but more out of lust for greed and power, drawn by the new money flowing into the orthodox church's coffers and the resurgent patriarchate's growing status.

If so, Sychkin's interest in lost libraries and mythic continents made sense.

If Russia's star rises, so would his .

Reaching the edge of the park, Tucker stepped out onto the sidewalk, but he kept to the shadows of a maple tree. Closer now, he could discern the scaffolding and ladders around the mansion. The roof slates looked new. Several windows were temporarily boarded over, waiting to be replaced. The steeple had a shining layer of fresh gold-leaf, as if trying to rival the Lavra's gilded onion domes.

And clearly the work was ongoing.

Tucker frowned.

No way this costly renovation was done on an archpriest's salary.

He wagered Sychkin must be skimming off the generous flow of funds that were filling the coffers of the orthodox church. No wonder the nuns were so upset with the guy.

Tucker glanced down the street as those same women exited the park, stopping thirty yards to his right. He still couldn't tell which one was his teammate. Valya might be a master of disguises, using her pale face as a blank canvas, but Seichan was clearly equally skilled in such deceptions.

He radioed Seichan, rubbing his chin to further hide any movement of his lips. "We're all set here."

"The limo out front," she warned. "It's the same vehicle that Gray and I had spotted at the monastery ruins."

Tucker had also noted the stretch limousine. It was parked before the fence's ornate iron gate.

Then Sychkin must be inside.

The plan was for each group to set off in opposite directions and canvass the mansion as best they could. Cobblestoned alleyways, bordered by tall brick walls, ran behind and to the right of the building, separating the estate from its neighbors.

Seichan and her group headed toward the mouth of the alleyway to the right. She would inspect the house's front, too. Tucker and Yuri would surveil the mansion's left flank and the rear of the structure.

Their goal was to search for any evidence that the captured group had been brought here. The team had been ordered to do nothing more. If the others were here, Seichan's group would continue their surveillance—then, after nightfall, a rescue effort would be made to extract them.

Tucker's jaw tightened. While he recognized the need for caution, he chafed at the constraints, uncomfortable with having to follow orders. Then again, he had been taught a hard lesson last night. He pictured Kowalski being dragged off and Elle guarding over Marco. If there was any chance of rescuing them, he couldn't go it alone.

Not here, not in broad daylight, not with a military encampment nearby, stationed to protect the Lavra.

Tamping down his frustration, Tucker set off with Kane, trailed by Yuri. He reached the corner, noting Seichan's group had stopped by the entrance to the far alley. They chattered amongst themselves, unfolding a map. Though Tucker could not discern Seichan, he had no doubt she was studying the narrow cobblestone lane and her half of the mansion.

Tucker continued along the opposite side. The sidewalk was deeply shaded by the crowns of old rowan trees, a species revered by Russians, believed to have magical properties. The trunk of one of the nearest had grown past the garden's iron bars, swallowing the spars into its bark. It spoke to the age of the mansion and its grounds.

Unfortunately, the canopies occluded the view of the home's upper levels, but Tucker imagined that if his friends had been hauled here, they wouldn't be locked up high. While pretending to take a swig from Yuri's vodka bottle, he surreptitiously eyed the first floor and the half-sunken basement windows.

Most of the curtains were drawn, which further frustrated him.

He passed the bottle back and continued down the sidewalk. A bricked lot covered the rear of the building, with a six-car garage at the far end. A pair of large SUVs—Mercedes G-wagons—were parked near the steps at the back. One flight headed up to the door on the main level, another led down toward the basement.

Tucker could get no closer to inspect the vehicles or the mansion's rear. Tall electric gates closed off the parking lot.

But he didn't need to.

Kane whined next to him, lifting his nose high, pointing his muzzle toward the gate. That was enough.

"Good boy," Tucker whispered and added, "S TAND DOWN ."

This rescinded Kane's prior order: S CENT M ARCO .

Tucker knew that if Marco had been hauled all the way here, the dog would need to relieve himself after the journey, going for the nearest post or bush.

Kane—who had lived for the past eight months with his new brother, eating, sleeping, playing, and training with the young Malinois—knew Marco's scent as well as he did Tucker's.

With this confirmation, Tucker continued past the gate. Kane followed with him, but the shepherd glanced over a shoulder with the faintest rumble of complaint.

Right there with you, brother. He patted Kane. Don't worry, we're not leaving Marco behind.

Tucker radioed Seichan. "They're here. Kane caught Marco's scent, like I told you he would. I'll meet you at—"

She cut him off. "Stay in position."

Tucker slowed as he reached the mouth of the back alley. "Why?"

"Sister Uliana suggested we make a house call."

"Why?"

"To go begging for funds for their convent. Apparently, they do that a lot. It seems little of that new orthodox money ends up with them. They've approached Sychkin in the past and been rebuffed. So, what's one more attempt?"

Tucker balked. "We were told to back off after we had confirmation."

He could almost hear Seichan shrug. "This will give me a chance to look inside. Assess the security and manpower. Until then, stay close."

He didn't have to ask why again.

He motioned to Yuri and drew him into the alley.

" Chto sluchilos'? " Yuri asked, remembering to speak Russian this time.

From the security chief's worried expression, the translation was easy.

What's wrong?

Tucker tried to stare through the brick wall and mansion to its front stoop.

"We're about to find out."

8:32 a.m.

Seichan climbed the steps toward a wide stone porch. She followed behind Uliana, Maria, and Natalia and kept her head bowed.

It was Sister Uliana—a scrappy seventy-two-year-old—who had suggested this course of action. Seichan had balked at involving them, but Uliana had waved away her concern with a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. The other two had nodded vigorously in agreement. While still paranoid, Seichan had sensed no deception in these women, only impish glee.

They must really detest Sychkin... or maybe they watched The Sound of Music too many times.

Regardless of the reason, Seichan wanted a peek inside—and not just with her eyes. She also palmed a matte-black spherical listening device. If given the opportunity, she would roll it across the threshold into a dark corner of the mansion's vestibule. While her team had secured the mansion's floorplans, the blueprints offered no intel on the level of security inside.

Time to find out.

Uliana led their brigade through the garden gate and up to the front doors, which were carved out of oak, patinaed darkly by age, and studded in iron. The nun pressed a buzzer. Chimes echoed out to them.

As they waited, Seichan noted a security camera and kept her face turned away. She shifted closer to the hinges and stayed behind Natalia's shoulders.

Loud footsteps reached them through the thick wood. A moment later, the door swung open. A huge figure filled the doorway, blocking the view. The giant was dressed in an ankle-length black cassock, the same as he had been wearing before, but he had shed his cap, showing black hair shorn in a pious tonsure. His exposed scalp formed the shape of a cross.

Even Uliana knew the commanding figure. "Brother Yerik," she greeted him in Russian, offering a slight bow. "I see from the limo that the Reverend Archpriest Sychkin has graced our town once again. We were hoping to beseech his generosity. Our need has grown most dire."

Seichan tried not to roll her eyes.

Yerik merely stared under heavy brows. The left side of his face and neck were scarred and pocked from an old burn. Seichan had heard about his past with an apocalyptic cult. His small black eyes took in the women, showing little regard for them. He lifted a palm, plainly telling them to remain on the stoop.

Seichan pictured his use of sign language back at the monastery. He was plainly continuing his vow of silence here, too.

He turned his back and stepped away, clearing the doorway.

Finally...

Past the foyer, which was darkly paneled and lit by gas wall sconces, a long hallway crossed the length of the building. Bulky men in black suits stood guard before a door at the far end. She also spotted the glowing eyes of security cameras high on the walls, both along the hall and in the parlors to either side.

She leaned down as if to scratch a knee.

With Yerik's back to her, she rolled her listening device across the threshold, aiming for a pedestal that supported a marble figure of the Virgin Mary. She quickly lost sight of it as it vanished into the shadows.

Unfortunately, something was far more eagle-eyed and noted the intrusion.

A siren burst across the mansion, winding into a screeching wail. Her bug's electronics must have tripped off a counterintelligence scanner inside.

Seichan swung around, pushed the shocked trio of nuns back, and pointed toward the steps. "Go!"

To buy the others time, Seichan did what she had wanted to do all along.

She rushed low across the threshold and ducked into a side parlor.

She radioed Tucker.

"Looks like we're done hiding."