Above and behind her, Lauren heard the soft tinkle of glass falling from a pane in the window, and a round hole formed in the man’s forehead just above the bridge of his nose. His eyes rolled up in his head and his forward momentum carried him onto Lauren’s chair before he crashed headfirst into the wall. He slid down the faded wallpaper, leaving a streak of blood, then lay motionless in a misshapen heap.
Lauren snapped her head from the broken window to the doorway as she heard heavy boots coming down the hall. A large man rounded the doorway with a drawn pistol. Two more muted gunshots were fired through the window and the man collapsed in a heap.
“Lauren,” a voice whispered. “Close your eyes!”
Lauren did, just before an intense white flash emanated from somewhere down the hall, followed by a deafening boom that rattled the frame of the house. Her ears rang, but she was far enough away from the blast to still be able to hear. There were men yelling and screaming, more shots were fired, and seconds later it was over.
A gun barrel was used to clear the remaining glass from the window and a lithe form dressed in black slithered through the opening and landed catlike on the floor. A knife was drawn and made quick work of the zip-ties securing Lauren’s ankles.
“Who are you?” Lauren said as she struggled to her knees.
“Are you okay?” the figure asked as she removed her mask and shook her black hair free.
“I’m fine. How did you find me? Who are you?”
“It’s a long story. I’m Marta Szanto. My father and your husband were once friends.”
“Archangel,” Lauren whispered, remembering the stories Donovan had told her about his past. The implications came flooding through. “Donovan found him—to get to me?”
“Yes.” Marta smiled and nodded, “Don’t worry. Everyone’s secrets are safe.”
“All clear?” A voice called out from the hall.
“All clear in here! Anyone hurt?”
“We’re all good,” A man stood in the hallway, his mask still in place. “I don’t think they got off a single shot.”
“Did any of them survive?” Marta asked.
“We left one of the bastards breathing, just like you asked.”
“Take him outside to the garage, find out what he knows,” Marta ordered. “Someone else bring me the medical kit and some bolt cutters.”
“My husband and daughter,” Lauren asked. “Are they safe?”
Marta tilted her head at the sound of an approaching helicopter. “You can ask Donovan yourself in a few minutes. How’s your head? I was outside and we were about to breach the main part of the house when the light in this room came on. I got to the window in time to see what you did to that guy. Quick thinking.”
“Do I hear a helicopter?” Lauren asked. “Earlier today, a red one flew over the bridge just as I was being taken. Was that you?”
“All your husband’s doing,” Marta said with a smile. “He loves you very much.”
“Where are we?” Lauren asked, her confusion clearing and her priorities gaining traction.
“About thirty miles east of Budapest.”
“The guy in charge of all . . . this.” Lauren gestured to the bodies in the room. “His name is Aleksander. He’s the one who kidnapped me. He was here earlier, but he left in a hurry.”
“We were afraid of that happening. We’ve had satellite surveillance on this place for most of the day, but we didn’t see who drove off.” Marta said, then turned to yell down the hallway. “Where’s my bolt cutters!”
A man hurried through the door, and Lauren held her wrists apart as each handcuff was snapped in two. She immediately began massaging her tortured skin.
“Any luck in the garage?” Marta asked her man as she dug some antiseptic ointment from the medical kit.
“He’s talking, but he doesn’t seem to know much.”
“Ask him where Aleksander went in such a hurry,” Marta said as she dabbed salve to the worst of Lauren’s cuts.
As the man hurried off with his instructions, Lauren heard the growing sound of the helicopter change as the spinning rotor altered pitch, and she knew Donovan was on the ground.
This time, the sound of running footsteps coming down the hallway was the sweetest sound Lauren had ever heard. She turned as Donovan filled the doorway, and his eyes told her everything she would ever need to know about the man she’d married. There was fear mixed with relief, plus anger and fatigue. He’d done what she knew he’d do, which was to do whatever he could to get to her. He wrapped her in his arms and held her tight, as if he would never again let her go. Lauren felt her eyes flood with tears and she pulled away and kissed him and touched his face; there were no words yet.
“Are you okay?” Donovan whispered.
Lauren nodded. “Are you?”
“Not yet.” He pulled her against his chest and held her close.
“We need to go,” Marta interrupted. “The gunfire as well as the helicopter are going to draw some interest.”
“I gather you two have met,” Donovan said as he lowered his arms. “Marta, I can’t thank you enough.”
“It wasn’t a favor,” Marta said. “It was a deal, remember?”
More people could be heard hurrying down the hallway. Michael, followed by Montero, entered the room. Michael grabbed Lauren and hugged her, as did Montero. Lauren was nearly overcome. Two of her favorite people had stood by her husband to come find her.
“We need to move this reunion out to the helicopter,” Donovan said as he took Lauren by the hand.
“I need a phone.” Lauren wiped the tears from her eyes. “I need to call Calvin.”
“Let’s get out of here first,” Donovan said. “We’ll call him on the way to Vienna.”
“No,” Lauren said as she pulled up short. “Before Daniel died, he told me he’d been forced to build a stealth aircraft. He thinks they have a nuclear weapon and the aircraft is the delivery system.”
“An attack?” Donovan asked. “Where? When?”
“I heard Aleksander on the phone earlier. I think the when is tonight,” Lauren said as Marta handed her a phone. Lauren did a double take as she took the mobile, and then punched in Calvin’s number. As it rang, Lauren glanced at Marta. “Nice phone.”
“Calvin, it’s Lauren, I’m okay. Listen, we have a big problem.” Lauren took a breath. “A nuclear problem.”
“I’m listening,” Calvin said.
“Daniel was forced to build a stealth aircraft. He thinks the people who held him plan to use it to deliver a nuclear warhead.”
“That’s a little thin, Lauren. Where’s Daniel now?”
“Daniel’s dead. Before he died he gave me a jump drive. It may or may not have details of this attack stored inside.”
“May or may not?” Calvin said.
“I don’t have it, but I know where it is.” Lauren said. “I was on a tugboat headed downstream, pushing a barge full of Mercedes Benzes. The name of the tug was something Kirov.”
Montero drew her phone and hit a button. “Yeah, it’s me. I need a priority search for a tug named something Kirov. It’s pushing a load of new German automobiles down the Danube, most likely in the Budapest area. I need a location and I need it now. Call me back.”
One of Marta’s men came up to her and whispered into her ear.
“Anything we should know?” Donovan asked.
“The man we were questioning about Aleksander was unable to help us, and it seems he’s passed away from his injuries.”
“Let’s go,” Michael said as he led the way out the door.
“Where to?” Marta asked.
“That tugboat is somewhere on the Danube,” Michael said. “The folks aboard the Kirov are about to have company.”
“Lauren,” Calvin said through the phone. “Find out what’s on Daniel’s jump drive, I need more before I can move on this. A lot more.”
“I understand,” Lauren said, refusing to second-guess herself for stashing the drive. “Cal
vin, is there by chance a line of thunderstorms in my part of the world?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, we just issued a weather warning to NATO Europe. There’s a fast-moving cold front connected with a deep low pressure area sitting over the Baltics. We’re looking at severe weather from Estonia to Northern France, why?”
“It might mean something,” Lauren said as they cleared the house and sprinted toward a red helicopter sitting with no exterior lights illuminated, though its rotor blades were turning. “Calvin, I know you had to have been helping Donovan find me, thank you. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Lauren, up front with Donovan,” Michael called out. “You know what this barge looks like. I’ll sit in back with Montero and Marta.”
“Nice to see you again, Dr. McKenna.” Trevor nodded from the pilot’s seat. “It’s been a while since a certain Paris rooftop.”
“My guardian angel.” Lauren leaned over to give Trevor a quick hug.
“He’s your angel.” Trevor pointed toward Donovan. “I’m just the guy that gets him there. Now, what’s this I hear about a barge? And what exactly are we going to do when we find this thing?”
“Retrieve my property,” Lauren replied. “And maybe exact a little revenge.”
Montero, her cell phone still up to her ear, leaned forward. “The barge is the Nastasha Kirov, and she’s cruising on the river beyond Budapest, sixty nautical miles south of our current position.”
“ETA thirty minutes,” Trevor said as he spooled the eight-hundred-and-fifty horsepower turbine engine, stabilized the rpm, and then with a gentle pull on the collective, the skids lifted free of the grass and he swung the helicopter to the south and accelerated.
Lauren located her headset and slipped it on, Donovan’s hand found hers and she intertwined her fingers in his, knowing his aversion to helicopters. After being alone and on the run in a foreign country, the feeling of being around people she loved was almost overpowering.
“We do have a computer on board, don’t we?” Michael asked. “I mean, we are off to retrieve a jump drive, and it would be nice to be able to open the files.”
“I have mine,” Montero said. “Lauren, do you have any idea what’s on this drive?”
“No, we’d just gotten Daniel on the plane and taken off when we were hit. He and I survived the crash landing and managed to escape the sinking Learjet. He told me what happened, what he’d built, and then gave me the drive before he died.”
“I’m sorry Daniel died,” Donovan said, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know the two of you had a history. For what it’s worth, I liked him.”
“Thanks,” Lauren replied. “He told me he sabotaged the airplane before he escaped, but from what I heard tonight, they might have found the problem. I’m hoping that the jump drive will give us something to stop this attack before it even starts.”
“Did Daniel know where he was being held?” Donovan asked.
“No, it’s somewhere close to Bratislava, which was the first town he was able to contact us from.”
“So there’s a stealth aircraft with possible nuclear capability somewhere near Bratislava?” Michael said. “Shouldn’t we alert the Slovakian military, or NATO, or someone?”
“We have nothing to tell them, plus, if we do, they’ll no doubt connect it to the crashed Learjet, which brings them to Daniel and me,” Lauren said. “We’ll need hard evidence that it isn’t an American-engineered threat before we say anything.”
“Where exactly on the tug is this drive?” Montero asked.
“In the lavatory near the galley. I taped it under the sink. I was captured and held on the barge. The captain used the bathroom as a cell and told me I was going to be turned over to the authorities. I thought if they found the jump drive, I’d have zero deniability, and be treated as a spy. So, I stashed it knowing it could be found again.”
“Good thinking,” Marta said.
“You said something earlier about revenge,” Donovan said. “What did the tug crew do to you?”
“They sold me out. Instead of the police, they turned me over to Aleksander and one of his thugs. I managed to escape, but I pissed off this Aleksander guy in the process.”
“He’s the guy we saw on the bridge? Dragging you from the police car,” Michael said. “I remember him. He had a bandage on his face.”
“That’s him, though the bandage is new. He and I had a difference of opinion.” She felt Donovan give her hand another squeeze.
In the cockpit, lit only by the instrument lights, Lauren could see the set of Donovan’s jaw, and the hardened, determined look in his eyes. He was with her in heart and spirit, but mentally, she knew he was already thinking ahead to the barge and what he’d do when they arrived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“ARE YOU SURE that’s the tug?” Donovan asked as Lauren lowered the binoculars. The vessel was steaming down the river using a bright searchlight to sweep the water in front of the barge.
“Yes.” She handed him the binoculars. “See the white navigation light on the stern? You can just make out the letters that spell Kirov. It’s what I saw when I went overboard.”
“Okay, everyone,” Donovan said. “We all know what happens next.”
Trevor approached high and from the rear of the tug with all of the helicopter’s external lights extinguished. The rotor noise hopefully mixed with the growl from the diesel engines. As they closed in, Trevor started a steep descent. The sailors aboard the tug might hear the helicopter, but unless they looked straight up into the night sky they would not spot them. At what felt to Donovan like the last second, Trevor checked the descent and slowed to a hover directly above the highest point on the tug, at the roof of the bridge. Gun in hand, Donovan threw off his harness and jumped down onto the metal surface, stepped to the edge, and pointed his gun into the surprised face of the captain as he burst from the bridge.
Montero, Marta, and Michael followed and quickly killed the intense searchlight. Lauren stepped out last and Trevor lifted off and climbed into the night sky. Donovan jumped from the roof and seized the captain by the front of his shirt and pushed him roughly into the railing. The barrel of the Colt never left the captain’s forehead.
The captain’s eyes darted from the barrel of the gun to the helicopter as Trevor swung around, turned on his landing light and expertly set the helicopter down on top of two Mercedes sedans, the skids resting on the roofs and then brought the engine to idle.
As Trevor brought the helicopter to idle, Donovan, his fury barely contained, tightened his grip on the captain. “You held my wife against her will! Who were the men you called?”
“No English!” he yelled, terrified.
Marta stepped forward and fired a series of questions at the man in Hungarian and then German. Turning to Donovan, she said, “He says he has no idea what woman you’re talking about or what men you’re talking about.”
“Maybe this will remind him,” Lauren stepped out of the shadows and walked to the clearly terrified captain. The man shrunk from her and began speaking to Marta.
“He says there was a reward offered, and a phone number,” Marta translated. “That’s all, no name. They came by boat. Oh, and he also offered to share the reward with you.”
Donovan hit him, a quick powerful jab to the face that easily broke the man’s nose. “Tell him no thanks.”
“We’ve got it!” Montero called out as she came running up the stairs.
“Did you see anyone down there?” Lauren asked.
“No,” Montero said. “Are we looking for someone in particular?”
“Forget them,” Lauren said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Montero signaled Trevor to pick them up and the turbine spooled back up. The helicopter lifted off and climbed overhead. Moments later, Trevor was in position, hovering only inches above the bridge. Michael helped the women first and then offered a hand to Donovan.
Donovan paused, turned, and punched the captain one more time,
this time in his midsection, dropping him to his knees. He thought that should suffice to keep him out of the picture while they departed. He was about to join Michael when he had one last thought. He held up his index finger for Michael to wait, went into the bridge, and with more strength than he knew he possessed, snapped the tug’s wooden steering wheel free from its housing, walked back out into the night, and flung it overboard.
Then he climbed aboard the helicopter. Seconds later Trevor lifted off from the top of the bridge, and they all watched as the tug’s searchlight sprang to life only moments before the bow of the barge slid up onto a muddy bank, turned sideways to the current, and began taking on water. As Trevor banked north toward Budapest, Donovan looked back as an entire row of cars broke loose and slid into the Danube.
“Donovan,” Lauren yelled from the rear seat where she, Montero, and Marta sat huddled over Montero’s laptop. She motioned for him to put on his headset. When he did, Montero handed him the computer.
Donovan looked at the screen, and in seconds understood exactly what he was seeing. There was a series of waypoints, latitudes and longitudes, no names, just numbers and letters. Just below was a picture of a man, and a name: Aleksander Kovalenko. Below that was a pencil drawing, a sketch that could only be described as a warhead.
“That’s the guy, Aleksander,” Lauren said. “He’s the one who abducted me, and then left when he got a phone call that something had been fixed. Then he asked about the weather and a line of thunderstorms. He thought the flight could get out before the system arrived. Do you have any idea where those coordinates are?”
“Trevor,” Michael asked. “Can I borrow your GPS, I need to type in some coordinates.”
“Sure,” Trevor said.
Donovan waited while Michael typed in the first set of numbers and the moving map display pinpointed a spot in Slovakia.
“No airport even close to this waypoint,” Michael said, “Maybe it’s the first fix and not the point of origin.”
Pegasus Down: A Donovan Nash Thriller (Donovan Nash Thrillers) Page 18
