January's Child: Robert Walker - Book 1 (Robert Walker Series) Read online

  JANUARY'S CHILD

  NEIL HOWARTH

  For Gigi.

  In good times, and difficult times, always there

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  CHAPTER ONE

  WASHINGTON D.C. NOVEMBER 1991

  One month before the fall of the Soviet Union.

  It had begun to snow again. He stood at the window, peering past the edge of the closed curtains. It was already dark, but the streetlights illuminated all for him to see, despite the falling snow. His name was Matt Sterling, though the name was fiction, like most of his life.

  The cars had arrived an hour ago, standing out, stark against the white backdrop. There were two vehicles, black Suburban SUVs, one directly across from the house, another farther down the street. They were not hiding their presence, but it seemed they were prepared to sit and wait. The snow had settled on the roof of the one across the road, but the hood was clear. The engine was still running. They were keeping warm — or ready for action.

  A figure hurried past the end of the driveway, dressed in a pink parka with the hood up. He recognized their next door neighbor, Alice, despite not being able to see her face. She was being dragged along by an energetic bull terrier. His name was Monty, and when Monty decided he wanted to go out, rain or shine, or snow, Alice took him.

  He could see her look towards the SUV parked directly across from the driveway. Knowing Alice, by the time she reached the corner, she would call the cops. She was not a trusting soul, seeing conspiracy and threat hidden in every shadow, which was interesting, seeing as she had lived next door to them for the past ten years.

  If the occupants of the vehicle across the street were who he thought they were, the cops would not be coming.

  The streetlights caught the swirl of the falling snowflakes as the wind gusted in off the Potomac, like dancing moths mesmerized in their orange glow. He had a sudden memory of when he was a child. He remembered it clearly. It was his twelfth birthday. His father had taken him out to a snow filled forest, a two hour drive outside Moscow. It was a dark, forbidding place, famous for its brown bears and wild wolf packs, like something out of one of the scary bedtime stories his grandfather used to tell.

  His father had said, if they were lucky, they might find the odd Sika Deer that had wandered too far south. He had seemed happy on that day. Hunting together was not something that happened often, his father rarely had the time, so he relished every moment when they did. He remembered that time clearly, because it turned out to be their last.

  He was unsure why he remembered it now. It had snowed many times since, and his father had been gone a long time. But today was different. Today, the memory was a vivid image in his head.

  He could still remember the kill that day. He had made it. It was only a scrawny snow rabbit, but he still remembered his father’s smile and the reassuring squeeze of his hand on his shoulder.

  His father had shown him how to skin and clean it, then cook it over an open fire. He could still recall his father’s words as he had taken his first bite, the grease trickling down his gray bearded chin.

  ‘We should only kill what we can eat.’

  If only life had stayed like that.

  But that was not to be. Another occasion slipped into his mind. It was almost twenty years ago, but more relevant to today. It had been snowing then.

  They had stood before the Colonel’s desk, in his spacious office, with its logs crackling and glowing in the fire grate, and its view over a snow laden Lubyanka Square. The statue of Iron Felix stood in the center, as if making it clear what they had to do.

  It was also the day they had first met.

  Her name was Irena, though that name was to be forgotten the moment they stepped out of the office. As was his own. From that moment on, they would be Matt and Helen Sterling, citizens of the United States of America.

  He still remembered her standing there, stiff and erect. And how beautiful she looked, despite the drab gray uniform. He could still hear the Colonel’s words. He had made it clear to the two of them. Their task was of the utmost importance, crucial to the security of the motherland. It was about the greater good, about loyalty and dedication — and sacrifice.

  He caught a movement outside. Another vehicle moved into view and stopped behind the SUV parked across the street. He gripped the Glock 19 with its sound suppressor attached. No sense in waking the neighbors. Though he couldn’t speak for the visitors.

  “They’re coming.”

  He looked across at his wife. She sat on the sofa, a chilled glass of her favorite Chablis on the glass topped table in front of her. She had swept back her raven hair in a short ponytail, exposing her excellent bone structure. There was the odd splash of gray that she never tried to hide, and her face had a slight trace of makeup. It was all she ever needed. She was wearing the red dress, the one she saved for special occasions. The one he loved so much. She was still beautiful, after all these years, after everything they had been through.

  They had received the warning a couple of hours before. It could have come anytime in the past twenty years. But now, after all that had taken place, it was inevitable. They could have left then, but they would not have gotten far. They would have been already watching the house. And besides, they would lose all control from that point, and others needed to be protected. The plan was already in place. Now they had to let it play out.

  He glanced back out of the window.

  Two men carrying assault rifles and wearing vests, presumably Kevlar, with FBI stenciled across the
front, were moving up the driveway. Another two were hanging back a little. There would be others out on the street and round the back of the house. He checked the load on the Glock for the umpteenth time. He had to be sure.

  He turned to look at his wife.

  “I love you,” he said.

  She gave him the smile again. The stress was showing a little, but she carried it well. “I wouldn’t change a single minute.” Her voice was faint but clear.

  If only we had more minutes. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

  He took a last look out the window, then crossed the room and stepped up close to her.

  “Will they be all right?” She had a troubled look in her eye.

  “Don’t worry, Eleanor will take good care of them.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes. He bent forward and kissed her forehead. The sweet aroma of Eau de Joy tugged at his senses and all of his memories. Tears stung his eyes.

  In that moment, he was no longer Matt Sterling, the persona he had inhabited for the past twenty years. He was once again Major Pyotr Ivanovich Rostov. It was the only way he could do this. He took a last look at his beautiful Irena. He had a last fleeting thought.

  Had it all been worth it?

  He didn’t wait to ponder it further.

  “It’s time.” He wasn’t sure if he had said it out loud.

  He lifted the Glock and placed it close to her head without touching it. He held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

  CHAPTER TWO

  PRESENT DAY

  She spotted her prey moving through the trees. They had cleared the asphalt track of snow, and she now had an unrestricted view of him as he reached the bottom of the hill. He was wearing a dark blue tracksuit and moved well for a man who had recently reached seventy. He was in good shape, too. She could see that. The rugged movie star looks, which had been his political trademark, were clear in the winter morning sunshine.

  The girl was pretty, her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, just the way she had been instructed. They knew what he liked. The jogging top she wore was tight enough to make all her important parts stand out. She glanced back down the track. His Secret Service detail was jogging along, ten yards further back, under clear instructions. She knew all about ‘Gorgeous George’ O’Connell, the Vice President of the United States, and his penchant for picking up pretty girls on his morning run.

  She jogged down the path and emerged as the Vice President appeared. She smiled as if recognizing him for the first time, then stumbled and collapsed on to the track.

  “Hey, are you okay?” The Vice President reached her, panting slightly, and knelt beside her.

  His security detail arrived at that moment, guns already drawn.

  “It’s okay boys,” he held up an arm. “The lady just had a slight tumble.” Then she had his complete attention. “Now then, let’s take a look.”

  “It’s my ankle. I kinda went over on it.” She looked up into the Vice President’s handsome face and smiled. “I feel a little stupid and just a little embarrassed. I saw you coming, then I recognized you, then I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  He took a hold of her arm. “Now let’s see if you can stand.”

  The girl got gingerly to her feet, keeping tight hold of the President. “I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Can you walk on your own?”

  “It’s a little tender.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Just across the way.” She pointed to a row of houses overlooking the road that ran along the edge of the park.

  “Come on. I’ll help you get home.” The Vice President nodded to his security detail, then walked along with her, a firm arm around her waist, her arm around his shoulders, and she semi-limping along.

  They reached the far side of the park. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

  “I’ll be fine, thank you. I just feel bad for ruining your run.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  “Can I offer you and your men a cup of coffee?”

  “Well, that’s mighty nice of you.” He glanced at his watch. “Maybe I’ve got fifteen minutes.”

  She flashed him a promising smile. “Well, come inside.”

  The Vice President looked over towards his security details. “Guys, wait for me out here. I won’t be long.”

  “Sir.” The head of his detail spoke up. “Check first.”

  The Vice President nodded and looked at the girl. “Sorry, security protocol.”

  Ten minutes later, the two of them disappeared inside her apartment. Two security men followed to stand outside the door, the rest stood around outside the building. They’d been here before.

  Ten minutes after that, the Vice President and the girl were in bed, naked. The VP was moaning softly as the girl worked her magic. She was mounted on top of him, gently writhing back and forth. She reached under the pillow. Her fingers closed around an object she had placed there earlier, while the VP was in the bathroom. She reached back and laid it on the bedsheet behind her, then gently slipped her hand between his legs, letting her fingers gently titillate the area beneath his scrotum, exploring the erogenous nooks and crannies. The Vice President groaned.

  “You like that?” She knew he did. It was all in the brief. She smiled and reached behind her, her fingers closing around the small auto-inject syringe. She jabbed it quickly into the base of his blood swollen penis, and the auto-inject did its job, sending the contents quickly into his bloodstream and up towards his rapidly beating heart.

  “Ow, carefully honey.”

  “I’m sorry, are you alright?”

  The Vice President smiled, then seemed to freeze into a tight teethed grimace. He tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t work. The last thing he saw was the girl’s beautiful face and her magnificent breasts swinging above him.

  The girl jumped off the bed, the syringe still in her hand. She crossed over to the bedroom window and opened it. This was the rear of the building. Directly below was a large plant pot, now covered in snow. She dropped the syringe, as she had practiced several times before. It fell directly into the tub. She closed the window but stood a moment, as a dark hooded figure appeared out of the shadows below, reached into the tub, then hurried off along the path.

  The girl pulled on a bathrobe, then headed for the living room. She ran over and opened the front door. The two security men were standing in the hall.

  “Boys,” she said, a distinctly worried look on her face. “I think the Vice President has a problem.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Barracuda sat out there, on the edge of his vision, like a pale green ghost floating in the murk. The depth was no more than thirty feet, but already the bright morning sunshine no longer penetrated down this far. Still, he could make out certain details. The creature had to be six feet long, with a pointed head and a characteristic large under bite, lined with rows of sharp-edged fangs.

  The divemaster held up a hand, and his class glided to a halt behind him. He studied the beautiful creature, as it appeared to be studying him. There were beautiful moments in diving, like this chance encounter. He knew this snake-like beast with laser fast reflexes could rip him apart in seconds. He also knew attacks were rare, but there was always a first time.

  He checked back on his class and gave them the thumb and forefinger circled, OK sign. His daughter, Nikki, though only thirteen, had been diving since she was five years old and was also a divemaster, gave him the okay sign back. It was the school holidays and she would be back next week, so he was making the most of it.

  She was shepherding Helmut, the overweight man from Munich. Helmut was an air guzzler, which he quaffed in unbelievable quantities, like downing beer at the Oktoberfest. Which meant his air bottle was usually getting dangerously low halfway through the class. So he and Nikki took turns in giving him their buddy mask, the spare air line each diver had on their air tank, to supplement his air supply..

  Helmut’s wife, E
lga, was just the opposite, following the divemaster’s instructions and treating her time in the water like meditation, seemingly sipping her air supply like fine tea.

  The other couple were in their mid twenties, on honeymoon from New York. The divemaster reckoned the man would be the first one to panic. He could see it in his eyes, despite the mask. That’s why he kept him close. He gave him a gentle, flat wave of his hand.

  Keep it calm.

  They all settled down, resting on their knees on the fine sand about thirty feet below the surface, close to where the seabed fell steeply away, descending rapidly into the darkness.

  The divemaster gave his attention back to the Barracuda. It was still studying him, still hovering over the abyss. It seemed a little closer now, its silver white underbelly and its dark green back now clearer. He could see its eyes, like black marbles, fixed upon his own face. Then it moved, with a wild slash of its tail, and disappeared into the gloomy depths.