“Well…shit.” I tried to consider the logistics of this—three of us, an unknown but large number of them, every escape route watched and guarded, plenty of cameras…but on a second-story flat so ingress for an assault and/or rescue would be difficult at best. “So how do we do this?”
Sasha shrugged. “He know us, trust us as much as he trust anyone. We go in, take Lear, go out. Hope to get away.”
I snorted. “Fast and loose, huh?”
“The longer we let it go, the harder it will be. There is usually some chaos in times like this, when things are not going his way. Now is the best opportunity. He will be distracted trying to figure out how it all went wrong, and how to make a new plan for his stupid revenge.” Alexei handed the cigarette off. “I would like to wait for your RMI and the others from A1S to arrive, but if we want Lear alive and in one piece, it must be now. Cain will lock down his security and we will be, as I think you Americans say, shitting out of luck.”
“Shit out of luck,” I corrected.
“Da, whatever.” Alexei waved a hand.
“So we just sort of go in and hope for the best?” I asked.
Sasha flicked a finger at me. “You are not going inside. Anyone see you, game is up—all of soldiers know your face. Alice, she has your photograph blowed up very large, so all know to look for you.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Well I’m sure as fuck not sitting around with my thumb up my ass.” I checked the load on my HK, replaced the mag, and slapped the charging handle. “You want to try and stop me from going in after my man?”
Sasha just grinned. “I do not say you are not help, just that you are not go in.” The grin became a teasing smirk. “Lear, he is your man?”
I nodded. “Yeah, he is. That okay with you?”
Sasha blew smoke. “Sure, is great. Lear, I say for many years he need a woman. You? You are woman.” The way he emphasized the word made it a compliment.
Alexei backhanded Sasha across the face, a no-look smack. “Watch your mouth, idiot.”
I laughed as Sasha reached over and whacked his brother back. “Keep your hand to yourself, or I cut it off.”
“Hey now, boys. No fighting.”
Sasha just chuckled. “We are brothers, it is how we are. You are not offended, though, I think.”
“Nah. I mean, I am a woman, and I take it you meant it as a compliment.”
Alexei silenced our conversation with a rough chop of his hand. “We are close.” He halted the Mercedes a few feet back from a corner. “Around this corner, another block. We are outside of where his camera see, as close as we get.” He gestured at me. “You are any good with sniper rifle?”
I grinned. “That’s how I got my start in black ops.”
Alexei nodded, pleased, and flicked a hand at Sasha. “Get rifle.”
Sasha pulled a face, made a gesture at his brother which I assumed was something rude. “You get rifle.”
I rolled my eyes at them. “Boys—I’ll get the rifle. The trunk, I assume?”
Alexei just nodded, watching the mirrors and studiously ignoring Sasha, who had his Zippo out and was spinning the wheel to send sparks at his brother’s neck.
I exited the car, rounded to the trunk, opened it, and saw a long flat black hard case, the kind of case a partially assembled sniper rifle would be found in. I grabbed it and stood at the driver’s side window. “Where should I stake out?”
Alexei tilted his head to one side, eying the street across from the car without turning his head all the way, peering through a screen of smoke from the smoldering cigarette butt clamped in the center of his lips. He jutted his chin upward. “There.”
I followed his curt gesture—a tall building, newer than the rest of the Old Town. I nodded. “Got it.” I paused, eying Alexei and then Sasha. “You get Lear out, or we’re gonna have issues.”
“We get him, no worries. He is our friend, for many years. He is our eyes for many missions.” Sasha, who seemed otherwise to be a jokester type, was serious. “We have waited and played the criminal, and now they have our friend. This will not go well for them.”
I saw the murder in his eyes, and in a situation like this, it was the most reassuring thing I could ask for. I nodded. “Give me five, maybe seven minutes to get in place.”
Sasha yanked open the glove box, withdrew a still-packaged burner phone. He ripped it open, powered it on, dialed a number—his phone rang, and he connected the call, leaving his phone on his knee; Alexei called next, and now all three phones shared a line. Sasha then took my headset from the walkie-talkie, plugged it into the jack on the phone, and I stuffed the device into a pocket of my shirt.
“Now we talk. You tell us when you are in position, and then we go.”
I nodded, and tipped a two-finger salute at them before strolling casually across the street. The door of the building—an apartment building, it looked like—was locked, but after quick glance around, I used my KA-BAR to force it open. I let the door close behind me as I entered the foyer—considering this was Old Town Riga, when I said this building was newer, I meant newer than the eighteenth century, which means this building was still double the age of most buildings in America…and it smelled like it: musty, urine, and old cigarettes. I trotted up the stairwell, following it in an ascending spiral to the top, where it exited onto the roof. I had to force another lock, but hey, it wasn’t like anyone would know the difference anyway, seeing as the locks barely worked in the first place.
On the roof, the wind blew stiff out of the east—a factor I tucked away. I skirted the perimeter of the rooftop, noting the emergency stair running down the backside—old, rusty, and rickety, and I’d have to make a pretty risky drop down from the rooftop to make it, but an escape route nonetheless. No approach from anywhere except that staircase, which would make a godawful racket if anyone tried to climb it. I found a rusted wrench in a corner of the roof, and angled it against the door of the stairwell, so the slightest nudge of the door would knock it over and create a sound to warn me.
Then, I knelt on the edge of the roof, opened the case, assembled the rifle, and used the scope to scan the area where Alexei had indicated Cain’s hideout was located. I found it easily—Cain’s blacked-out SUV was parked out front of one building, with a man at the wheel and two in the back seat, and two more standing on either side of the door. More on the roof—I counted four. I had a clear line on the front windows, and counted at least six different bodies.
I spoke into the mic of my headset: “In place. I’ve got the SUV with three, two at the door, four on the roof, and at least six I can get a bead on through the windows.”
Alexei’s voice came through: “Da—the usual. There are six…eight rooms. Usually six to twelve men. Drinking, smoking, playing cards—sometimes a woman or so, for entertainment. Lear will be top floor, back room where you cannot see from roof. Cain never goes in those rooms either, where sniper could get him.”
I snorted. “Paranoid, huh?”
I heard the shrug in Sasha’s voice. “For good reason, and it keeps him alive so far, da?”
“True,” I said.
“We go now,” Alexei cut in. “When we are out, you start blasting open the heads, okay?”
“Understood.” I hesitated. “Good hunting, boys. Get our guy back, yeah?”
“Da,” I heard both voices say.
Waiting, then.
Wanting to just open fire, start putting holes in heads. I held, though.
I saw Alexei park the Mercedes across the street from the apartment, and the men swaggered through the front door, bold as you please.
Minutes passed, and despite the fact that it wasn’t hot out, I was sweating. Laying prone on the rooftop, eye pressed to the scope, finger along the outside of the trigger guard, I waited.
Waited.
Saw movement in one of the top floor windows, shapes moving quickly. I heard voices. A shout, tinny and distant. The muffled crack of a gunshot. Another. Several in a row—crackcrac
kcrack.
I held my fire, watching the men on the roof touch earpieces and speak into microphones, charging rifles. I heard an engine cough to life. The men at the door tilted their heads, listening to earpieces. Rolled away from the door, AK-47s whipping up to cover the entrance.
That was my cue—I drew a bead on the leftmost, did some quick calculations, factoring wind speed and direction, distance…adjusted my aim to compensate.
A crackle from the phone: “Exiting,” Alexei barked. “Situation hot. Covering fire requested.”
“Understood,” I responded, and then slid my finger over the trigger.
Squeezed a shot off, and the figure in my scope slumped, red painting the wall. The other ducked, backed away, retreating for shelter behind the SUV.
“Oh no you don’t,” I whispered.
Cracked off a shot by instinct, no time to calculate now. Got him center mass, a combination of luck and skill.
The door flew open and I saw Alexei first, Lear slumped over his shoulder. Limp, still. Sasha was close behind, walking backward, rifle to his shoulder and jerking as he fired in bursts.
I aimed over their heads through the doorway, saw a shape and dropped a round in, somewhat blindly. Again. Then shifted my aim to the rooftop—this was easier picking, as there was little cover for them. They knew my approximate location, but without a scope I’d be hard to spot at this distance. I changed magazines and fired four shots in quick succession—two hit, two missed. I cursed under my breath; being out of practice meant more missed shots than I liked. When I was a full-time sniper, I’d have hit every shot. I adjusted aim, sent a round zinging through space—it took one of the two remaining rooftop guards through the shoulder, and he dropped. No time to finish him—I fired again, and caught the last one as he started to run for the edge. He stumbled, rolled, and toppled off the edge. I took another shot to finish off the wounded one.
Alexei and Sasha had Lear in the car by then, and were screaming away from the apartment.
Leaving me.
“We do not forget you, Cuddy,” I heard Alexei say. “Meet near cathedral.”
“Copy.” I rolled away from the edge and trotted down the stairs with the rifle over my shoulder and the case in my hand.
Something jangled in my skull, though—this had been too easy.
“Watch your six, boys,” I said, keying the mic. “This doesn’t feel right.”
There was no answer.
Reaching the street, I oriented myself by the spire, and set off on foot—a suspicious figure I was, carrying two long guns, wearing full combat gear, trotting down the street in broad daylight.
Men with cigarettes smoldering in thick fingers watched, unblinking, seemingly unsurprised.
The city was quiet.
Nerves jangled in my skull, setting my blood to pounding.
I reached the cathedral, saw the Mercedes parked along the curb across from it, and took off in a jog for it.
Reaching it, I yanked open the rear door, saw Lear lying on his back on the back seat.
Awake.
Bleary, eyes creased and narrowed in pain.
“Hey.” He winked at me, but it was a woozy gesture. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I laughed, wanting nothing more than to climb into the seat with him and shower him with kisses. Instead, I just smiled at him. “Hi. You okay?”
He blinked slowly, rolling a shoulder in a weak shrug. “No? Cain had an in-house doctor get the bullet out and stitch me up, so I’m better than I was—I won’t die any time soon, at least. I need antibiotics, though—I feel feverish.” His gaze narrowed again, but over my shoulder. “Fuck.”
I whirled, dropping to a crouch, and then let myself sink to a sitting position, despair soaking through me:
A line of Cain’s mercenaries filed out of the cathedral, running in a single file, streaming in ever-growing numbers until it was obvious this had all been a setup from the beginning, and that we were well and truly fucked. I gripped my HK, prepared to go out in a blaze of glory…
But Lear struggled to a sitting position, groaning in pain at the effort.
“Don’t.” A gasp, a low moan. “Dani, no. There’s no point.”
Alexei’s voice was low, a rough growl. “There will be time for that later. Remember, we have help on the way. A lot of it.”
I set my weapons down, cursing, feeling defeated, and angry at myself for letting that feeling win; I’d known it had been too easy.
Lear nudged me with a foot; I twisted, craning to glance at him. “The guys are on the way, my guys and yours. It’s gonna be okay.”
“This fucker is getting on my nerves,” I snapped, eying the tall, broad shape of Cain as he exited the cathedral, arms swinging loosely, AK-47 dangling from his shoulder. He strode right up to us, a wry grin on his face.
“It worked like a charm.” His voice was pleased, but his eyes were cold and feral. “You walked right into it.” His gaze went to Alexei and Sasha. “You two, I am displeased with you. I take this as a personal betrayal.”
Alexei just smirked, lit a cigarette. “You should.”
Cain nodded. “Tell me, were you planning this from the very start, or did you get cold feet?”
Sasha took the smoke and dragged on it. “From the very start.”
Alexei whacked him. “Shut up, idiot.”
Sasha just chuckled. “Why? Like it will make a difference?”
Cain watched the exchange. “You are awfully calm.”
Alexei shrugged. “You kill us, you don’t, is no matter to me. You will die soon.”
“What if I don’t kill you? What if I give you to Yuri for torturing?” Cain’s grin was devilish. “You know what he likes to do.”
I remained seated on the cold damp cobblestone underfoot. Tapped Cain’s calf with my boot. “Yo, dickface.”
He glanced down at me with an ugly, threatening sneer. “What, dead woman?”
“This Yuri…he a big, ugly motherfucker with a short temper?”
Cain’s evil brown eyes narrowed at me. “Yes. Why?”
I shrugged, reached up into the car to steal the smoke from Sasha—I didn’t smoke often, but would occasionally share one with the guys after an op, ceremonially. “Well, I guess you didn’t hear.”
“Hear what?” Cain spat. “Make your point or I will give you to my men to have their way with.”
I laughed. “You’re planning on that anyway, so that’s an empty threat.” I let the silence breathe. “I killed him.”
“You?” Cain snorted derisively. “You killed Yuri? I think not.”
Sasha laughed. “Is true, actually.”
Cain’s eyes flicked from me, lounging relaxed on the ground, smoking a cigarette—and then to Alexei, and Sasha. “Lies.”
I handed the smoke up to Alexei—he reached down through the open window and grabbed it from me. I blew smoke up at Cain. “Didn’t even break a sweat. He made a pass, and I don’t tolerate that shit. Broke him like a twig, and then blew his brains out. Call your guys at the airport and ask.”
Cain dug a cell phone out of his pocket, dialed a contact, and held the phone to his ear. Spoke rapidly in a low, guttural voice, listened—his face went white, pale, furious, and he hung up.
He crouched, radiating fury. “He was my friend. Most of these,” he waved at the gathered men, “I care nothing for. But Yuri? He was my friend from childhood. You will die very, very slowly.”
I was going to die anyway, so why not take him out with me?
But I felt Lear’s toe pressing into my shoulder, nudging in a rhythm. Code—three long presses, three short taps, three long presses: S-O-S.
Meaning, don’t do it.
He could read my thoughts, obviously, and was reminding me that help was on the way—wait, just wait, we’ll get him. Swallow the rage. Keep it burning.
I just grinned up at Cain. “I’ve killed a lot of people, and most of ’em, it was just…whatever. Just the job, nothing personal. But that big ugly piece
of shit? I enjoyed killing that fucker. I’d like to say he died slowly, but he didn’t. He did die in a lot of pain, though.”
Cain stood up, his fury going cold; I’d just baited the devil.
He regarded me steadily, coldly. Leveled his AK at me, then at Lear, and then at the brothers, the barrel swiveling and traveling slowly, his eyes on me the whole time. As if trying to gauge who would cause me the most pain. My poker face was solid ice, and I gave away nothing.
Crack!
The AK barked, and Sasha jerked, grunted. I twisted to look—Cain had shot him through the cheek—a through-and-through. His face was opened, a grisly, bloody sight, teeth showing shattered in white shards through crimson. Alexei held still, but I felt the hate boiling.
This was about to go sideways. All the talk of wait for backup, wait for backup…
Yeah, Sasha was hurt, and Alexei wasn’t dealing with it rationally.
“That was…not smart,” Alexei growled.
Cain just laughed. “You forget who’s in charge, here.” He gestured with his rifle. “I could just kill him, if you rather?”
Alexei just sat in stewing silence. Sasha had one hand clamped to his jaw, pressing a piece of his shirt to his wounded face. “Uh-uh,” he grunted through a mouthful of blood, thumping Alexei. “Wai-h.” Wait.
Sasha was remarkably stoic; I saw death written on his features.
Lear’s toe was still tapping the S-O-S on my shoulder. I twisted farther around to glance at him, meaning to indicate that I’d gotten his message. Instead, I saw his eyes meet mine, and then flick up, briefly, to a rooftop in the distance:
Lear Page 22
