Antoine and Kovac moved towards Kalemegdan Fortress from the riverside.
Smith went into position on the riverbank, taking the fortress into aim through his infrared scope. A fortress’ use was to be invulnerable from the outside. That this one was publicly accessible made it anything but. Entries were open until late night, giving them easy access.
“I have some fond memories about this place,” Kovac whispered. “Used to bring my girl here back in the day.”
He led Antoine down a compartmented passageway.
“Romantic,” Antoine said. The bench where Kovac indicated had a view of two rivers, the Sava and the Danube meeting at the confluence.
He ran over the soft grass, leaving no trace thanks to his sound suppressing boots.
Kovac signaled him to stay low, as they sprinted to a waist high and well-lit stone wall.
Antoine braced his hand on it and flicked his body over. Leaves crunched as dust kicked up. He pressed his back against the building and slid into cover next to an entry door.
Kovac took a step back and regarded it curiously.
“This shouldn’t be open,” he said.
“Well maybe we are finally going to have it easy. I see this as a good sign,” Antoine replied.
Kovac pushed the door open with his foot. The light was on inside.
“Someone is in,” Kovac said.
“It must be Khabib,” Rose said, her voice ever present in their ears. “He beat us to the fortress. I just spoke to Derek and MI6 know of him but came up with nothing but body bags when trying to chase him. Expect him to have prepared for you. Be vigilant.”
“Great,” Antoine thought. They were on a suicide mission and out of time. He slid in through the gap watching out for booby traps. Kovac followed him in, his night vision goggles already on.
“Kovacs, I hope you remember your way around here,” Antoine said.
“It has been a while,” Kovac said. “Antoine, stay close. Rose, I have no plans on dying today.” They ghosted down the corridor watching their step with the safeties off and their trigger fingers ready.
They raced down till they reached a wine cellar.
Stopping, Kovac pointed at the barrels that were there and turned to Antoine and said, “If only we had more time.”
They continued through the doors on the other side, examining them for trip wires before progressing.
“What is that sound?” Antoine said hearing noise coming from the room ahead of them. They carefully opened the door. The red gleam of fire brought them to a halt.
“Somebody beat us to it,” Kovac said next to him. “The painting won’t be here anymore. They are covering their tracks.”
“We have to get Khabib,” Rose commanded from her seat in Vienna. “The trail will go cold without him and the painting.”
Antoine ducked down, while the smoke drifted above. He wrapped a cloth around his mouth.
Through the flames he could see a shape leaving the room in the other direction.
“Speaking of the devil,” Kovac whispered.
It was Khabib.
“Target acquired,” Antoine reported over radio. “He set the room on fire. We are going to double back and engage him outside. Smith look out for him. He has a crate. It must be the painting.”
“Understood,” Smith replied. “Locked and loaded.”
“We cannot afford to lose Kovac. Pursue him!” Rose said.
Antoine looked at the flames. Every part of him thought it was a bad idea. Kovac looked at him, shaking his head.
“In pursuit.”
“You do not give two Schnietz !” Kovac swore running in the opposite direction of Antoine.
The room Antoine was in had started to fill with smoke. He reached the end where he had seen Khabib. The fire was too intense to cross.
“I have reached dead end.” He turned to see Kovac rolling an oak wine barrel towards him. “Some help,” Kovac called out grabbing one end of the barrel.
Antoine hurried to the other side. Together they tipped over the barrel and spilt the wine towards the flames. A huge cloud of smoke rose with a loud
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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