Skills to Kill

by Brian Drake

  Something scurried up a nearby tree trunk, across the upper branches, shaking the leaves. Steve Dane paid no attention. He knew a squirrel when he heard one. But Poppy August was not so accustomed, and she tried to follow the sound with her eyes.

  Hosler’s property contained a small stable of horses, a pool, and a garden. As estates went, it was pretty modest, and trees and shrubbery, especially near the house, provided ample cover and concealment. Dane scanned the property with night-vision binoculars. Patrolmen crisscrossed the field in fifteen-minute intervals. It did not appear that there were many of them, but more could have been hanging out inside.

  He lowered the binoculars and let out a breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Nina said.

  “Alek’s recon photos showed more men.”

  “Is he gone? That might help us.”

  “Assuming he hasn’t taken the file with him.”

  “Why would he go on the road and risk losing the file in transit? A portable safe isn’t.”

  “And if he’s gone and left a large force behind, we’re walking into a mess.”

  Poppy said, “We’re still going, right?”

  Dane said yes. They didn’t have another option, but his gut told him to tread carefully. He checked his watch. In seven minutes McConn would start his part of the plan. Dane had no way of contacting his friend, but they’d agreed on a time to begin the proceedings. At the appointed time, if guards were out, McConn would, from his hiding spot and with a scoped rifle, shoot however many he could.

  “Move out,” Dane said.

  He broke off alone, following the slope to the fence, then running along the fence to the opposite side of the house where they knew Hosler’s study to be.

  Nina rose and headed straight for the fence, placing her steps without haste, making no sound. Poppy snapped twigs and rustled branches. The fence was made of wood, with horizontal boards stacked three high and separated by gaps; Nina pulled the HK close to her body and rolled under the fence. Poppy tried to duplicate the move but got stuck when the barrel of her HK bumped the bottom plank of the fence. She adjusted and rolled up beside Nina.

  “Takes practice,” Nina said, and moved ahead in a quick trot. But then her foot struck something hard and she dropped face first into the grass.

  Floodlights blazed to life but no alarms sounded.

  “What’s this?”

  Nina pushed up, looked back. Poppy pointed at a circular metal object partially sticking out of the ground. Black plastic strips began at the top of the object and then went beneath the grass. Not a land mine.

  Armed security men raced toward them.

  “A motion sensor,” she said. “Lock and load, honey, here they come.”

  Todd McConn watched the property from his own night-vision scope mounted atop his semi-auto Springfield M1A. He watched Steve Dane hustle across the field, keeping to the shadows. When floodlights lit the opposite side, he didn’t hesitate. He bolted from his perch, sprinting along the circular route plotted earlier that allowed a near 360-degree view of the estate. When he reached the next perch, he dropped prone, resting the rifle on a log, and switched off the night scope for a normal view. He lined up on Nina and the other woman as they readied their weapons; scanning further along, he counted three gunmen running their way. Aiming ahead of the lead gunner, he fired one shot. Nina would know the source and get out of the line of fire. The round connected, and the lead man pitched forward and landed in the grass. McConn watched him roll over and saw the leg wound. A clean hit. Sorry, pal, just business. Nina and Poppy fired on the other two, the muzzles of the HKs flashing in McConn’s eyepiece. The shooters dropped and rolled. McConn selected the right-hand target and fired. The shot pinned the gunman to the ground. A shoulder wound this time.

  A cloud of smoke drifted across the field. Nina, letting off one of her smoke grenades. He nailed the third gunman in the left arm, and a follow-up scan to the immediate left revealed more gunners racing to the scene. As Nina and Poppy ran for better cover, McConn zeroed in on the new targets and squeezed the trigger. He couldn’t hit them all, but he could keep them pinned down and away from the women.

  He hoped Dane was having better luck.

  Poppy heard each of her heartbeats as the three gunmen closed in.

  “Lock and load, honey…”

  It was a line from a movie, she thought, flicking off the HK’s safety like she’d been taught. Her vision clouded; sound faded. What she heard had a faint echo to it.

  She lined up her sights. Or tried to. With her impaired vision, the sight picture looked nothing like it did at the range. Her pulse quickened and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. She jerked back the trigger. The HK bucked against her shoulder. Somehow the recoil didn’t feel right. It was too light. She fired again. The approaching gunmen kept coming. This was a nightmare. Her bullets did nothing. The monsters kept coming. A scream caught in her throat and then—

  The gunman in front seemed to—trip? She watched him fall forward and hit the ground, but also saw that one of his legs was covered in blood. Who had fired?

  She glanced at Nina, who fired another burst, steady, no panic, like she was swatting a fly. Poppy jerked her head back, sighted, fired. The muzzle flash made her wince. Still none of the gunmen dropped. She aimed for another only to see a bullet hit from another direction, ripping into the man’s arm.

  “Come on!” Nina shouted. It sounded like she had screamed in Poppy’s ear. Poppy watched Nina pull the pin from a smoke grenade and roll it across the grass. As the thick white cloud spread, Nina ran toward the house. Poppy followed. She did not get shot in the back.

  Dane heard the sharp cracks of gunfire but did not stop. His people knew what to do. He rounded a corner and stepped onto a covered patio. Through the sliding doors he spotted Hosler at his desk talking furiously on the phone. Dane advanced and smashed through the glass with the stock of the HK. Hosler dropped the phone and lunged for an open drawer; Dane blasted the phone with a single burst. The pieces landed on the carpet. Dane closed in, bits of glass that stuck to his clothes dropping off as he moved. As Hosler turned around with the gun he’d taken from the drawer, Dane stopped with the smoking muzzle of the HK mere inches from the other man’s face.

  “Toss it,” Dane said.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Hosler said. He flung the automatic over the desk; it clunked on the floor.

  Hosler filled his lungs with air, exhaled. He had no hair and a jowly face, but his roly-poly frame had some muscle under it. He scanned Dane’s face. Recognition filled his eyes.

  “Dane!” he said. “Are you behind—”

  “Give me some credit.”

  “But—”

  “I’m working with the responsible party, yes. You’re lucky I convinced them to let me loot your safe.”

  “But the shooting—”

  “You hired professionals. My people are the ones taking the risk.”

  “I don’t understand what’s going on! What do your people think they have? Dave and I didn’t—”

  “They have a doctored recording that makes it sound like you and Peter have conspired to profit from the war. Did he keep the original?”

  “You’d have to ask him. I know he doesn’t keep the recordings very long. He was stunned when he learned of the theft. There’s nothing compromising on any—”

  “Tell him to keep the original. If I fail, it’s the only thing that will save his neck. The opposition will try and blackmail him with it, trust me.”

  “But why are you here now?”

  “They think you have papers in your safe backing up the deal you made with Peter. I volunteered to come here and steal it.”

  “But Dane there’s nothing—”

  “I need to bring something back.”

  “A stack of papers, maybe? Miscellaneous items? Like you didn’t have time to sort? It won’t be your fault there’s nothing valuable in it.”

  “Perfect.”

  It t
ook less than two minutes to gather miscellaneous documents and a bound ledger—“Last year’s take,” Hosler said—and Dane stuffed it all into the leather satchel over his chest. “I don’t need any of it back.”

  Dane went to the window. “Give the president my regards. I’ll contact you somehow if I lose control of this.”

  “Good luck.”

  Dane slipped out.

  “Ohmygodohmygod what a rush! How did I do? Come on, be honest!” Poppy could not stay in her seat, jumpy and jittery and loud too.

  “You’ll get better,” Nina said.

  “Is it always like that? I mean I couldn’t breathe or see too good, and everything had a weird echo and my gun didn’t feel right—”

  “Poppy. Stop. Now.”

  Poppy blinked at Dane and sat back. But the smile did not leave her face. “That was better than sex!”

  Dane dropped Poppy off at her building. The HKs and other gear remained in the trunk; Poppy didn’t ask for it. She would never see the unused blanks still in her gun.

  Dane drove off and savored the silence.

  Back at the hotel, Nina went to bed while Dane smoked a cigar on the deck and reviewed the night. How best to keep the pressure on Savelev? Another grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as the solution came to mind. He made a brief phone call to his CIA pal Len Lukavina. Lukavina complained about the late hour and the short notice, but after Dane explained the situation, the CIA man agreed to put a surveillance team on Savelev’s place—but he also said he would have to consult higher authority. Dane had no problem with that, since Hosler would tell Cross and Cross would put the word out that Dane was to receive all the help required.

  After he finished the cigar and cleaned his teeth, Dane decided that once again even a small plan beat no plan at all. And the arrangement with Lukavina would help reduce the amount of enemy personnel he had to face.

  Dane crawled into bed beside a snoring Nina and quickly went to sleep.

  23

  Dirty Work

  Dane looked out the front window of Savelev’s home and wondered which of the two “delivery vans” within sight was watching the place. The white vans were blank on either side. Such an obvious ruse. He wasn’t in a position to complain, but one would think somebody with Lukavina’s resources might do better. Maybe the second van would throw off suspicion. Crazier things had happened.

  Alek Savelev sat at a table reviewing the contents of the leather satchel. He scanned each document with a growing frown. Presently he pushed the papers aside.

  “That’s everything?” the Russian said.

  “I emptied the safe.”

  “It’s not there. Do you think he moved the file elsewhere?”

  “He would have had plenty of time.”

  “Unfortunate. Do you think we have what we need with just the recording? They can’t spin it away, like you said?”

  “They’ll try. They may even succeed a little, but maybe it will inject enough poison into public opinion that the administration won’t survive.”

  Savelev nodded. “You did well. I suppose I owe you some money.”

  “I didn’t accomplish the mission.”

  “I didn’t say your payment depended on getting the file. I hired you to go in and crack the safe.”

  Dane followed the Russian into the study, where he opened a drawer and removed a battered lock box, which he placed on the desktop and opened via a combination. Savelev raised the lid. Nestled inside with wrapped US greenbacks was the flash drive. Dane stifled a smile. Savelev truly believed he had something important. He counted out twenty one-thousand-dollar bills, severely reducing the size of the overall roll, closed the lid, put the box back in the desk.

  The Russian smiled and handed the cash to Dane, who folded the bills and slipped them into his front shirt pocket. “And now the second part of our bargain.”

  “Indeed, my friend. I have already left a message with my employer, and she will call back before the day ends. Meanwhile I have a meeting with my team. I hope you’ll excuse me.”

  “You don’t want me and Nina here for that?”

  “Not for this one.”

  Dane said okay. Savelev showed him out. Dane again glanced at the delivery vans. He turned right at the sidewalk and went three blocks before hailing a cab to take him back to the hotel.

  Dane stood on the deck of the hotel room as the sun set. Twilight turned to evening. Nina, arms folded, leaned against the railing beside him. She said, “He’s late.”

  Dane’s cell rang. He answered and said, “Are you here? Good, come on up.”

  A few minutes later, Len Lukavina knocked on the door and Dane let him in. The CIA man carried a blue tote bag. They sat on the deck chairs, though Nina remained at the rail. Dane poured Crown Royal for everybody, brought Lukavina up to date.

  When Dane finished, Lukavina said, “After we spoke yesterday, I got another call that about knocked me over. I’ve been told from the top—the tippy, tippy top, Steve—to give you everything you need.”

  Dane smiled. “Good old Peter. Been watching the brownstone?”

  “Of course. Saw you there. The redhead visited before you did, by the way. We’ve photographed three others, all male, as well.”

  “Round them up. Make a grab for the redhead but let her go. I need her to warn Savelev. That will clear the way for me and Nina to be their assistance in time of need.”

  “We can’t do that,” Lukavina said. “FBI will scream. There’s been no time to properly investigate—”

  “I don’t care if you let everybody go after twenty-four hours. They’re small fry. They’re nothing without Savelev. We need Savelev to take us to the Duchess.”

  “What about McConn?”

  “Keep him with you. He knows the players, so he’ll come in handy.”

  “One condition,” Lukavina said.

  “Which is?”

  “You wear new shoes.” Lukavina set down his glass and opened the tote bag. He extracted a pair of black leather dress shoes and passed them over. Dane examined the footwear with a frown.

  “Homing device in each heel,” Lukavina said. “About the size of a fingernail. If I’m doing your dirty work, I want to know where you are at all times.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Put ’em on,” the CIA man said.

  Dane complied and took a few steps around the deck. “Perfect fit.”

  “Make sure they stay on, Steve.”

  “Even in bed?”

  “In bed, in the shower, everywhere.”

  Nina laughed.

  The next call came around nine-thirty. Nina muted the TV Dane let the phone ring two more times and then answered:

  “Alek?”

  “Do you have a car?” The Russian spoke fast, in a panic.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m with Poppy. I need you to pick us up. Don’t go near the house.”

  “Wait, what’s going on?”

  “My people have been arrested. They almost got Poppy.”

  “Did you leave anything behind? They’ll tear your place apart.”

  “I have everything important.”

  “Okay. Where are you?”

  Savelev told him. Dane hung up and called Lukavina, who gave him the location of a black Chevy SUV with special CIA upgrades. A code pressed into a keypad installed on the door unlocked the vehicle. The keys were under the driver’s floor mat. The supercharged motor was a plus, as was the armored glass.

  With Nina in the passenger seat, Dane drove to the gas station where Savelev and Poppy were waiting and they jumped in. Dane sped off.

  Savelev, breathless, said, “Thank you.”

  “Anything for a pal,” Dane said. “There’s a motel about thirty miles up the interstate. We can go there, unless you have another idea.”

  “Every hideout I have is compromised.”

  Dane glanced at Poppy in the rearview. She clutched her purse to her chest and stared out the window. She shut her eyes and then ope
ned them again. The glazed stare remained. Almost getting arrested was not, apparently, better than sex.

  With evening traffic it took over an hour to get out of the city. Dane didn’t talk. He wanted Savelev and Poppy to try to relax. A tall order. But he and Nina stayed silent, and the other two watched the passing scenery. Once on the interstate, Dane opened the throttle and drove the next 30 miles at the speed limit.

  Then Dane said, “How did they get onto you, Alek?”

  “I don’t know.” The Russian spoke quietly, but the panic in his voice was gone. “We messed up somewhere. Or they grabbed Poppy’s contact and he talked. It doesn’t matter.”

  “What do your people know?” Nina said.

  “Almost everything.”

  “Do you have any contingency plan to get out of the country?”

  “Out of the country?” Poppy said.

  “Poppy—”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “This is the real thing, little girl,” Nina said. “Espionage will get you executed or a long prison term.”

  “Oh my god,” Poppy said. She slumped against the door. She let her head bump the window.

  Savelev patted her leg. She inched away from him.

  “I’m not worried about our exit,” Savelev said. “What I am worried about is our other deal. Can you deliver the weapon like you promised?”

  “All it will take is a phone call. Nina and I can get you two to the country of your choice as well.”

  “You know this motel you’re taking us to?”

  “Nope. For all I know they won’t even have rooms for us. We’re flipping a coin. Best we can do right now.”

  Savelev rubbed the right side of his face. “Okay.”

  Dane and Nina exchanged a glance, but neither betrayed a thought. Dane turned back to the road. As plans went, this one could not have been going better—so far. Unless Sean McFadden was with the Duchess in the dragon’s lair, and then all bets were off.