The Lost Throne

42

Allison’s book bag hung from Jones’s left shoulder. Her computer dangled from his right. And he carried a large gym bag stuffed with Byrd’s most important belongings. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to haul them very far. He was scheduled to meet Payne and Allison in St. Isaac’s Square.

Jones eyed the hallway in both directions before he stepped outside the suite. One of the advantages of staying on the top floor of a luxury hotel was a scarcity of neighbors. Wealthy people loved their peace and quiet. Then again, so did burglars. Obviously, Jones didn’t view himself as a thief — he was simply collecting things for Byrd’s assistant — yet he knew the authorities wouldn’t see his actions in the same light. So when Jones heard the elevator doors open at the opposite end of the corridor, he wasn’t the least bit happy about it.

Keeping his cool, he turned toward the stairs and refused to look back even though he could hear footsteps. His goal was to reach the street while being noticed by the fewest number of people possible, and turning around would only increase his chances of being identified.

With his free hand, he opened the door to the stairwell and started his journey down.

For the first few floors, things were going well. He was alone on the stairs and making good time. He assumed his next trouble spot would be the lobby. Desk clerks tended to be nosy. A team of doormen and bellhops would be posted by the entrance, offering to help him with his bags. And hotel guests would be milling around, waiting for friends and family.

Once he survived that gauntlet, he figured he’d be home free.

But it wasn’t to be.

Jones realized there was trouble when he heard the door above him open. It was the exact same door he had passed through a moment before on a floor that had few visitors. Either someone had exited a suite a split second after Jones had left the hallway and had also decided to walk down several flights of steps, or the person from the elevator was still behind him.

In his gut, Jones knew it was the latter.

Payne detected a problem the instant he saw Jones leave the hotel. Instead of turning toward the plaza as he was supposed to, Jones headed toward Nevsky Prospekt in the opposite direction.

“Shit,” Payne mumbled to himself, never taking his eyes off the exit.

“What’s wrong?” Allison asked.

“Time to go.”

Fifteen minutes earlier, Payne would have sent her to safety in the Hermitage Museum or one of the nearby buildings, but considering Grizzly’s warning about unfriendly soldiers in the area and the fact that Jones had altered their plans based on something he had seen inside the hotel, Payne couldn’t abandon her. He couldn’t take the chance that she would be accosted, arrested, or spotted by a hidden foe. That forced him to take her along while he figured out what to do.

Meanwhile, Jones kept moving forward, never running or doing anything that would call attention to himself. That told Payne a lot about the situation. Jones’s life wasn’t in immediate danger. If it had been, he would have signaled Payne to enter the fray or dropped the bags he was carrying and started shooting. But Jones’s methodical pace and calm demeanor meant he was being followed. Or at least he thought he was.

It was up to Payne to figure out if that was true.

And if so, by whom?

Allison walked beside him as Payne crossed the street toward the hotel. The entire time he studied the exit, watching everyone who left the building. An elderly couple appeared first, then a woman in a dress, then a bellhop. None of them turned toward Jones, so they weren’t the shadow that Payne was searching for.

The fourth person to exit was a man in his late forties. He had a buzz cut, a gray suit, and a stiff posture that was common in the military. The instant he hit the sidewalk he stopped, casually scanning Nevsky Prospekt in both directions before he found his mark. Turning east, the man continued his pursuit of Jones, tracking him from a healthy distance.

Payne smiled at the scene. Now he could track his target as well.

Kozlov had reached Byrd’s floor at the perfect moment, just in time to see the black man leaving the room. If Kozlov had arrived a minute sooner, he would have bumped into him inside Byrd’s suite, but what good would that have done? Kozlov would have been forced to kill the intruder on the spot, gather whatever was being taken from the suite, and then slip away before the police arrived.

On the other hand, if he had shown up a minute later, the black man would have been long gone, Kozlov would have found nothing inside, and his employer would have been pissed.

No, Kozlov was thrilled with the way things had worked out. He could shadow the intruder wherever he went, hoping to generate more leads to follow. With a little luck, Kozlov could recover Byrd’s things, figure out why Byrd had come to Saint Petersburg to begin with, and catch the morning train to Moscow so he could start working on his next contract.

Two days earlier, bumping into Byrd had been the result of horrible timing.

But this was just the opposite. This couldn’t have worked out better.

At least that’s what Kozlov believed.

Payne eyed the Russian the way a cheetah eyes a gazelle. He wasn’t ready to spring on him just yet. That would come later. For now Payne was more interested in studying his opponent, deciding if he was alone or part of a dangerous herd.

“What’s going on?” Allison demanded.

“D.J. is being followed.”

“How do you know?”

Payne didn’t have time to hold her hand or explain things. He could always fill her in later when they were safe. For now, he had to concentrate on his surroundings. He couldn’t miss anything or it could cost them their lives. “Just trust me, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you do, but—”

“Listen,” he ordered. “If I tell you to do something, you do it. No questions. No delay.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding her head.

Payne kept looking straight ahead. “If something happens to me or I tell you to run, go to the American consulate. Don’t go to the hotel. Go directly to the consulate. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“I doubt it will come to that, but I need to know you’ll be safe.”

“I promise. I’ll go to the consulate.”

Payne continued to watch Kozlov. He was a block behind Jones but was definitely following him. “The man I’m tailing is in a gray suit. I mention that for one reason. Not because I want you to stare at him, but because I want you to know he’s trouble.”

Allison spotted Kozlov a block ahead and nodded.

“Is that the man who killed Richard?” Payne asked.

“I can’t tell. I didn’t get a good look at him.”

“Come on,” he said as he grabbed her elbow. “We’re crossing the street.”

“Why?”

“What did I tell you about questions?”

Allison blushed but didn’t say a word. Filled with adrenaline, she had forgotten her agreement from a moment before. All this was so new to her. It was one of the reasons she had kept spouting random facts about the city: she didn’t know how to handle the excitement. So she burned her nervous energy by babbling.

At the intersection, several pedestrians waited for the light to change. Payne and Allison stood among them, hoping to blend in with the crowd. A few seconds passed before the entire group made their way across Nevsky Prospekt. Cars and buses filled every lane. It was mid-afternoon, but traffic was starting to build. Once they reached the far side, they turned right. They were now walking on the northern side of the street, the same side they had used on their journey from the Palace Hotel. The side they were most familiar with.

“Keep watching,” Payne said as they passed a small war monument that he had seen before. “D.J. will cross the street soon. It will help me spot other shadows.”

Sure enough, Jones did as Payne predicted. He walked across Nevsky Prospekt in the middle of a block, dodging cars as he did. This simple act, crossing the street with no one else around, forced Kozlov to react. He didn’t have time to wait or think. He had to cross immediately or risk losing Jones in an alley, a building, or a taxi heading in the opposite direction.

Payne studied the avenue, checking to see if Kozlov was the only one who followed.

And as far as Payne could tell, Kozlov was acting alone.

While crossing the busy avenue, Jones spotted the man in the gray suit. He didn’t have a chance to look for Payne and Allison, but he knew they were back there, too.

Probably a block behind.

In situations like this, that was a safe distance. Close enough to keep an eye on his shadow but far enough to be inconspicuous. Normally, a man of Payne’s size would have a tough time blending in. Yet that wasn’t the case with Allison on his arm. She was the perfect cover. The two of them would look like a happy couple, strolling through the high-rent district.

And that gave Jones an edge that he planned on using.

Knowing virtually nothing about his opponent — who he was, who he worked for, what he wanted — left Jones with few options. Especially if this was the same man who had killed Byrd. Jones had seen video of him in action and realized he was highly trained. That meant there was little chance Jones was going to lose him, not while carrying three bags he couldn’t afford to drop. Not in a city he wasn’t familiar with. Not without the help of a friend.

A friend with the skills of Jonathon Payne.