It isn't too difficult to follow the bloody trail through the tunnels. Whoever was sure seems to be losing a lot of blood. Yuri can't help hoping it was Jessica. He knows how dangerous she is from the reports and would just as soon have her be less inclined to armed confrontation.
Yuri nods in agreement with Moten and continues to follow the trail.
Continuing along corridor, the bloodtrail is interspersed with a few spent pistol casings strewn about the floor. Moten picks one of them up with the tip of his ballpoint pen, smelling the brass.
"It's fresh alright. Probably no more than a few hours old."
The shell casings coincide with bulletholes further down the passageway.
A few t-junctions and a couple of turns later...
Yuri's tracking of the bloodtrail ends at some sort of bulkhead. There are bloody handprints all over the mechanism's half-opened release assembly.
Flashing red lights couldn't make a much easier trail to follow. Yuri and Mikhail continue to slog through the smelly tunnels. Upon reaching a bulkhead, Yuri grunts at the sight of the bloody handprints.
"I'd say it's safe to assume they went this way, wouldn't you?" If no one else offers, Yuri will attempt to open the hatch.
"Thank you. You've been most helpful in the investigation. I'll be sure to note that in my report." quips Moten, moving behind Brian as if he spotted some more evidence.
Moten feigns his action, instead turning back towards the Russians with his pistol drawn as Brian raises his MP5 proceeding to go full-auto on Yuri while Moten fires at his partner. Shellcasings fly all over the place as the muzzleflash illuminates the entire passageway. The scene goes silent as the fog of cordite settles, showing Yuri and Mikhail face-first in the shallow water, dead to rights.
Moten walks over to the bodies of Yuri and Mikhail. He kneels down next to them and goes through their pockets. He pulls out their badges and throws them to Brian.
He stands up and shakes his head. "I'll be sure to note your cooperation in my report as well." He draws his pistol and fires one shot into the back of each of their heads. "Let's go."
Moten and Brian dispose of the FSB agents' bodies in a pitch-black area of the tunnel. It's not as good as say, melting them in a vat of floric acid, but it will be a while before someone finds them. They take their leave of the crimes scene(s) and escape out (presumably) the same place Jess and Anatoli did. Moten's intuition tells him that the two fugitives wouldn't be able to make it too far without urgent medical care. Keeping Brian in tow as back-up, he canvasses the surrounding area. An elderly man, apparently drunk on high-octane vodka tells him of a nearby clinic.
In the rig, about 100km outside of Novosibirsk.
From the cab, Artis and Peter can see the flashing blue lights of the Siberian Mounted Police. While at first it appears to be an accident, the closer they get to the scene (maybe 2km or so), they see that the SMP have established a roadblock up ahead.
Trans-Siberian Railway, about 200km outside of Novosibirsk
The trainride is surprisingly uneventful for Carla and Ayumi. Booking passage in a second-class berth affords them privacy and, save for some lecherous Army boys in the corridors, they are otherwise ignored. As the car matron (a kindly babushka in her late 50's) serves the ladies tea and hot blintzes (sp?), the train suddenly grinds to a halt. The matron spills some hot water on Ayumi and heartedly apologizes as she cleans up the mess. Curious as to why they stopped, Ayumi looks out the glazed window and spots two "non-local" men climbing aboard at the rear of the train and into the First-Class car.
"We no stop till Krasnoyarsk." the matron says in very broken English, as she helps Carla tidy-up.
Quickly taking in their appearance, Ayumi notices the men are dressed well yet plain and carry a degree of uneasy authority with them. That's all she can make out before they go out of sight as the train lurches forward on the tracks.
Peter looks at the roadblock ahead with a fair bit of non-enthusiasm.
"Oh, wonderful. There's a bunch of shrink-wrapped boxes in the back. We'll need a few of those."
He makes a few strange gestures.
"You know, looking at those Russian cops, you'd never figure they'd be in the market for Britney Spears CDs. But alas, that's the way the world works over here. Grab a few boxes, but keep them out of sight now. We know that they want the CDs, and they know that we know, but it's a bit of a ritual. We won't say that we have them, they won't say that they want them, it'll be tense for a few minutes, then we'll offer them a smoke and things will work out."
The SMP checkpoint consists of two UAZs on either side of the road with two policemen (in each direction) checking the vehicles. The policemen are armed with AKSUs and sidearms.
Waiting in the queue (three vehicles are checked then they switch directions to keep traffic going). Now at the front of the queue, the policeman waves at Peter to move his rig up to the checkpoint. The policeman looks like your standard, underpaid patrolman only doing his job because it beats mining uranium or working the oil pipelines.
Peter grabs a package of ID, driver's license and freight papers for the rig - a faked set, but looking respectable enough that it implies atleast some mob connections.
As the rig pulls up to the checkpoint, Peter pastes his best subdued smile onto his face, drops the window and hands the cop the papers.
The policeman is unresponsive to Peter, taking his information and looking it over with a scrutinizing eye. He looks at the picture ID then back at Peter, then back at the ID. The policeman reaches for something in his coat, but retrieves nothing. Looking concerned, the cop walks toward his associate who is minding the roadblock exit/entrance.
The policeman chats with his partner, who points toward one of the parked UAZs. Walking over to the vehicle, the cop opens its back gate and fishes out what looks like a large office envelope. The cop affixes the envelope to his clipboard and walks back over to the rig.
"Your papers are in order."
(handing back Peter his ID and documents)
"Have you seen either of these two men?"
The policeman hands Peter two xeroxed copies of composite sketches. He doesn't immediately recognize either of them.
Stealthily minding what's going on from the back compartment, Artis' brow perks up when he notices that one of the sketches is undoubtedly Brian.
Quote: from Gatac on 1:01 pm on Dec. 16, 2004
Peter looks at the sketches. He genuinely doesn't recognise either of them, and states just that matter-of-factly.
"Don't think so. But my memory's pretty good; if I see any of them, I'll call you folks."
The cop nods.
"Keep them. These men are wanted for questioning. They are considered extremely dangerous. If you see either or them, notify SMP immediately. You are to free to go."
The policeman steps back from the rig, giving his partner the OK to let it through.
The matron continues to apologize to both Ayumi and Carla for the mess when a frantic knock is applied to their cabin door. Opening it reveals another matron, much younger than the babushka, looking terribly flustered and nervously pointing towards the First-Class berths down the corridor.
The babushka consoles the women in a soothing manner with a It'll be alright. type of tone her voice.
"Well, I think that one guy jumped out of our plane earlier, but I've never seen the other one." Artis chuckles to himself. "No, really, he did. It was pretty cool."
"I use up about three batches of CDs per month of travel. They don't usually pass out sketches, though. Did anyone at HQ read my memo? The Russians have a few really good radar operators to the East, and many people watch the sky and report anything strange they see. Communism's all gone, but it left behind people. Particularly when you're as far away from Moscow as we are."
fanchergw
