Die Trying by Chris Ryan Page A

pal.’
    ‘I know… because Shiloh have been tracking Sotov’s every move.’
    ‘Bullshit.’
    ‘It’s the truth,’ Golan said. ‘Israel has a lot of friends in Russia. We have a man on the inside. Denis Popov, he… he works as Sotov’s chauffeur. He’s the one who originally alerted us to the sale of the nuke.’
    ‘Where’s Sotov now?’
    Golan shook his head and chuckled wearily. ‘It does not work like that. If I tell you now, you’ll kill me.’
    Gardner lowered the Sig.
    ‘What do you want?’
    Golan tended his sore balls. ‘Immunity. And safe passage back to Tel Aviv – tonight.’
    ‘Forget it, mate. The Firm will never agree to your demands.’
    ‘Time is ticking, my friend. The convoy has already left. Check outside if you don’t believe me. If you want to stop the bomb, you need to play by my rules.’
    Gardner shoved Golan to one side and drew up Land’s number on his mobile. One, two, three rings. Pick up, pick up! Land answered on the fifth ring. He was breathless.
    ‘Where are you? Did you find the nuke?’
    ‘Yeah—’
    ‘Great work, old chap, there’s a real future for you—’
    ‘The convoy’s already left.’
    Land went quiet.
    ‘It’s headed for the Bosporus Bridge in Istanbul,’ Gardner said, then heard a flurry of swear words rasping down the line.
    He caught a bang and pictured Land thumping his desk. For several seconds the connection was quiet. Then Land said, ‘Right. This is what we’re going to do. I’ll alert the Turks. Get them to set up a blockade at the bridge. A Black Hawk will transport you onward to Istanbul.’
    ‘Fuck off,’ Gardner said. ‘Send a specialist team to disarm the nuke.’
    ‘There isn’t one. We’d have to locate engineers, call them back from operations, brief them, transport them… There’s not the time. You’re only a couple of hours away by helicopter. And I do recall’ – Gardner heard the rustling of paper – ‘that you have experience in detonations.’
    The radio station in Belgrade. The shadows, and the bodies.
    ‘Golan says the suitcase bomb is due to detonate at eight o’clock tonight, yes?’ Land continued. ‘So that leaves us with a shade over four hours to get you on-site and deactivate it. You’re the best man for the job, Joe.’
    ‘What about Aimée? She doesn’t deserve to die.’
    ‘She won’t. Soon as Golan calls his informant she’ll be granted a stay of execution.’
    Gardner sighed. Each passing minute revealed strange new pains along the crescent of his chest. This one last step. Then it’s over.
    For ever.
    ‘Just make sure you get Aimée away from the fucking Russians,’ he said.
    ‘You worry about your job, old boy, and I’ll worry about mine,’ Land replied, then hung up.
    ‘OK,’ Gardner told Golan. ‘You’ll get your safe passage. But first you give us Sotov’s location.’
    ‘How do I know you won’t backtrack on your promise after finding her?’
    ‘If Aimée is where you say she is, you’ll be sent home. You have my word.’
    Golan chewed on it for several seconds.
    ‘OK,’ he said. ‘We have a deal.’
    The word spiked Gardner’s stomach. The nausea returned.
    ‘Get a fucking move on,’ he said to Golan.
    They made their way down the aisle and out of the church. The sun had packed its bags and pissed off, replaced by a continuous grey curtain that seethed rain. Puddles plopped with raindrops in the pitted streets. Gardner felt the rain on his head, cool and refreshing. He let Golan walk in front as they passed around the side of the church.
    The rain washed wet heat into Gardner’s mouth. He tasted salt on his tongue; felt his stomach unstitching again. He’d asked a lot of his body the past seven days. There wasn’t much left in the tank.
    He stopped dead in his tracks.
    The sky blackened. Steel-grey clouds seemed to oscillate like the vibrations of heavy machinery. Gardner peered into the distance. A fleet of eight UH-60 Black Hawks surfaced on the horizon,