Yelagin sighed. “The history of the icon is rather clouded. Its path started in Jerusalem. But then, in the fifth century, it was moved to Constantinople. From there, it vanished for a time until it miraculously appeared to fishermen near the Tikhvin River in northern Russia in 1381. A church was built at the site to enshrine the icon. Centuries later, Ivan the Terrible added a fortified monastery around it, thoughthe true protection of the church came from the icon itself, which was said to have repelled hostile enemies many times.”
“Where is it now?” Jason asked.
“That remains controversial. During World War Two, the Nazis stole the icon from the Tikhvin Monastery. Eventually it ended up in the United States and was returned to Russia in 2004, where it is enshrined at the Tikhvin Mother of God Assumption Monastery.”
Monk shrugged. “Then what’s the controversy?”
“The bishop who transferred the icon to the U.S. had originally said it was only a reproduction of the original. He later claimed he had lied to protect it. In fact, hundreds of copiesweremade of the icon, many of which were also tied to miracles. Those reproductions are spread across dozens of churches, cathedrals, and monastic sketes, all dedicated to the icon. Because of that, scholars and historians have wondered if what is hanging at the Assumption Monastery is a copy, too.”
Sister Anna interjected. “If so, it would mean the original remains lost, perhaps hidden away for safekeeping.”
“Possibly at the Trinity Lavra,” Jason said.
“Or any number of other churches dedicated to the Tikhvin Icon,” she added.
Jason stiffened as he suddenly remembered where he had heard that name.Tikhvin. A hot flush of trepidation rushed through him.
Gray and Seichan had left to investigate the address that Tucker had given them, where the kidnapped botanist was supposed to have been taken. It was a church dedicated to Theotokos of Tikhvin.Theotokoswas the orthodox title for the Virgin Mary. He realized the place must be one of the many churches dedicated to this venerated icon.
But is this just a coincidence or is it significant?
The answer came as his phone—an encrypted Sigma device—thrummed in his breast pocket. He reached for it, noting Monk doing the same with his own phone.
Uh-oh.
They shared a worried look and stepped aside to answer the call.
As soon as Jason put the phone to his ear, Kat’s voice came throughurgently, transmitting to them both via a conference connection. “We’ve got a problem. I’ve been monitoring local chatter and NRO sat feeds. There are reports of multiple explosions near the ruins of the Simonov Monastery. Sat footage shows a cloud of smoke rising from one of its outbuildings.”
Jason swallowed hard, trying not to show any outward reaction, but all this intel boiled down to one conclusion: Gray and Seichan were in trouble.
“Local authorities are already responding,” Kat added.
Monk grimaced at this news.
Jason understood.
Even if Gray and Seichan survived whatever was happening, if they were caught and exposed by the Russian authorities, the two would likely vanish into some icy gulag. Worse, such a black eye on U.S. intelligence operations would likely be the final nail in Sigma’s coffin. It would destroy the agency.
At any cost, the pair could not be captured.
But first, they had to survive.
9
May 11, 6:55P.M. MSK
Moscow, Russian Federation
Enveloped in smoke, Seichan plummeted through a gristmill of fiery debris. A shattered chunk of floorboard struck her shoulder. She snatched it and twisted it around, bracing it like a shield before her.
As she plunged, splintered chunks and broken rocks pelted her. Something struck her head, hard enough to squeeze her vision into a tight knot. Exposed skin got ripped and lacerated. Her body jolted as she crashed through obstacles. She fought to keep hold of her shield, but a jarring impact cracked it in half.
She toppled headlong with a scream trapped in her throat.
Through slitted eyes, she watched a smoldering pile of wreckage rushing toward her. She had two heartbeats to react. She spotted a thick rafter laying crookedly atop the mountain of debris filling the basement level.
She curled her legs under her, aiming for the beam. Her boots struck it, but her legs went out from under her. Her chest slammed hard. Momentum slid her down the rafter’s length. Splinters tore through the leather of her jacket and pants. From above, rocks and fiery shards battered at her.
