Another right turn on Cheyne Walk, and then a jog to the left to put him on the Chelsea Embankment, and for a moment Zack wondered if the cabbie was heading to Battersea Bridge to cross the Thames, because he was now traveling back to the west.

But this theory didn’t stand ten seconds of time. Wheeler’s cab turned right again, back on Oakley.

They’d just driven in a large square.

Zack knew a few things in life, for sure, and one of them was that London cabbies do not get lost.

And that meant only one thing to him.

Is Wheeler running an SDR?

And then another thought occurred to him. It would have to be one hell of a weird conversation in that vehicle ahead for Wheeler to ask the cabbie to make an unnecessary series of turns and double-backs.

The only thing that made sense was that the cabbie was the one doing the SDR, and Wheeler was just along for the ride.

As the taxi made another right, Zack reached for his phone.

CHAPTER 46

   David Mars took his phone from his pocket and answered it while stepping out of Dr. Won’s laboratory. He stood on a third-floor stone balcony, looking down at the University of Edinburgh. It was a rainy day in Edinburgh, but for the moment the precipitation was light enough for Mars to stand here and remain dry.

“Hello?”

“Black? It’s Barnacle.”

“Excellent, mate. You’re in London?”

“Yes, yes I am. But . . .”

“But what?”

“The driver you had pick me up is doing an SDR, and we’ve detected a definite tail.”

This was distressing to Mars, but not overly so. “That’s unfortunate.”

“No shit, it’s unfortunate. If they get the idea I’m not going to the embassy, they might make the reasonable assumption that I’m running, which will lead them to the assumption that I’m the one they’re looking for.”

“Don’t worry, Barnacle. We won’t let that happen. You’re almost free and clear. That cabbie works for the Solntsevskaya Bratva, and he’d get his bloody throat slit if he doesn’t get you to the destination in one piece.”

“That’s it? That’s the only assurance you have I won’t get picked up in the next ten minutes? Look, Black. Don’t forget how much you don’t want me to fall into the hands of your enemy.”

“Go carefully, Barnacle. I don’t want you harmed or held, but I also do not take well to threats.”

“Just . . . please, get me out of here. I don’t want to go directly to the Peruvian embassy; I don’t have any manpower to stop a snatch team if they come for me.”

“You soon will. I’ll send a team to meet you; we’ll get you out of that cab and better protected. Just tell your driver to keep driving, and give me a few minutes to arrange something.”

“Rush them, please.”

David Mars hung up, then called out to Fox, who was in the hallway outside the third-floor lab, talking on his phone. He hung up and rushed in to Mars to see what he needed.

“Sir?”

“Barnacle is compromised down in London. Need some of your boys to bring him in. As quick as you can assemble them.”

“On it,” he said, as he pulled his phone out again. “I’ll have them contact the driver and meet somewhere near the Peruvian embassy, but not too close by.”

* * *

• • •

Zack Hightower was having a difficult time convincing Suzanne Brewer that he now believed Wheeler was up to something. She challenged him on this over the phone, insisted the cabbie must have been looking for some address, and told Zack to calm down the more animated he got.

But Hightower could not be swayed. “They are just driving around in circles now. They know they have a tail, and they aren’t trying to shake me, so they’re obviously trying to stall. That makes me worry.”

“Worry about what?”

“About the possibility they are planning something.”

Now the cab drove north up West Carriage Drive, through the center of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, and Zack tried to think ahead several steps in his adversary’s plan. He didn’t know where he was going, but driving the one road that led through the middle of the park seemed like a bad idea from the perspective of someone who was being tailed.

But then he realized what his adversary’s game was. Right in front of him the taxi rounded a turn and stopped in the road, right next to a maroon passenger van, which itself slammed on its brakes.

Marty Wheeler leapt out of the taxi and into the open side door of the van, which immediately launched forward, whipping past Zack at speed. He could see that the van was full of at least four more men in addition to the American CIA exec.

Zack pulled a hard U-turn, bumping up onto the grass alongside Carriage Walk Lane to do so.

Zack spoke to Brewer through his earpiece mic. “Subject has changed vics, and now is heading south, surrounded by muscle.”

Brewer just muttered, “Unreal.”

“I need you to tell me what you want me to do here. He’s making a definite, overt run for it now, and he’s got four Slavic-looking knuckleheads surrounding him.”

Brewer said, “Look, Romantic, you might just have to handle this yourself.”

“Lady, I just got off an international flight. I don’t even have a damn gun!” Zack said.

“Yes, you do,” Brewer interrupted. “There should be a weapon with extra magazines in the glove box.”

Zack checked quickly, pulled out a Smith and Wesson M&P .40, a forty-caliber pistol in a retention holster, then checked to make certain it was loaded with one hand while he drove with the other. He said, “Got it. Orders?”

“If Wheeler switched vehicles and has security, then there is a reasonable chance he is guilty of being the mole. Do you concur with that assessment?”

“Sorry, lady, went to state college. It was more about baseball and coeds and less about learning what ‘concurring with assessments’ means. But if you’re asking me if this motherfucker who’s surrounded himself with Russian shitheads and is desperately trying to lose anyone tailing him is guilty as hell, well then, my answer is abso-fucking-lutely I concur.”

Zack read off the street names he passed, and when the van turned to the left he told Brewer they were heading into Knightsbridge.

Brewer took a moment to respond. “I’m driving myself to the embassy now, but I’m looking at the map on my phone, trying to figure out where they are going. That part of Knightsbridge has a lot of embassies.” After a moment she said, “Shit. The Peruvian embassy. Their government is tight with the Russians and decidedly anti-American at the moment. They’ll carry Moscow’s water for them.”