by Skye Knizley
Smoak sheathed her blades and jumped, gripping the first stone and using her momentum to carry her to the next and the next, travelling across the face of the building as well as upwards in a zigzag pattern that carried her the thirty-odd feet to the fifth floor. She jumped to the ledge of a fifth-floor room and hung there by her arms. The room inside was empty, with only an old curtain-covered mattress as furniture.
Shivering in the rain, she pulled herself onto the ledge and into the room, where she crouched, letting the water run off her onto the tiled floor. When she was dry enough to stop shivering, she straightened and crept to the hallway. The floor was almost identical to the ones below, with a lobby and nurses’ station to her left. The corridor continued to her right, ending in another that joined the one on the other side of the building, forming a rectangle with rooms on either side. She could hear voices speaking in Russian from every direction, and the light from either a lantern or electric torch was coming her way.
She shrank back into the shadows and drew her weapons, watching the reflection of the light on the wall. It passed her without slowing, and she stepped into the corridor behind the gun thug, blades at the ready, but the man continued down the hall to vanish into the lobby. She heard the fire door open and a flurry of Russian as he asked one of the men to go get some food and check on ‘the chemist.’ Time was growing short.
Smoak turned and hurried down the hallway, glancing into rooms as she passed. She stopped at the end and leaned sideways, so she could see down the connecting corridor. Two men were standing outside a room less than six feet away, pistols held at their sides. It was only blind luck that they weren’t looking right at her when she glanced around the corner.
She didn’t hesitate. Guards outside a door could only mean one thing—there was something inside that they wanted to keep from escaping or being stolen. Either way, she wanted to get inside.
Three quick strides brought her behind the closest guard, and her blade did the rest, stabbing through his back, between his ribs and piercing his heart on the way through his chest.
The second guard wasn’t so easy. He managed to yell and bring his pistol up before Smoak could sweep his legs and send him falling to the ground. He squeezed off a single shot as he fell, shattering a light fixture, and alerting everyone in the building that something was amiss.
Smoak kicked the weapon out of his hand and did a knee-drop onto his chest, cracking the bones and silencing his cries. But she was too late, his gunshot was a better warning than any scream for help.
She finished him with her knife and began patting him down, searching for keys to the room he’d been guarding.
“Don’t move, little girl,” a Russian-accented voice said behind her. “I’ve got her, go back to what you were doing!”
Smoak froze. How had she not heard someone approaching? She must be getting old.
“I’m frozen,” she said. “Don’t shoot.”
“Good. Perhaps today is a two for one sale, yes?” the voice continued. “One brown, one yellow. A good deal. How many of our men did you kill, little girl?”
“Seven,” Smoak replied. “So far. Is my friend still alive?”
“The brown hair? She is sleeping. You killed seven men for the brown-haired woman? She must be special. Put your hands on your head, little girl, and tell me how special.”
Smoak complied. She had to burn time. If Ashley was alive, it meant there was a chance she could be rescued. Smoak just had to figure out how.
“What do you want to know?”
The man laughed. “I want to know why you would risk death and kill seven of my best men to save one woman.”
“She’s my friend.”
“I know of friends, I have many. None of them would I care to die for,” the man said.
“I would.”
“You would die for this girl?” The man sounded surprised.
“In a heartbeat.”
“That makes my choice easy. Someone has to pay for my dead men and the inconvenience you and your friend have caused. She will die, and I will let you live. Igor pays more for yellow hair, and you will go to South Africa knowing you let your friend die. Do not worry, her death will be quick and painless.”
Smoak tensed and turned her head to look at the man behind her. He was tall, with black hair shaved on the sides and a soul-patch beard. He held a ten millimeter Glock 20 in his hands, the vented barrel aimed at her head. The man gripped the weapon as if he knew what he was doing, which made him dangerous. But if he made a move to harm Ashley…
Just then the door opened and what looked like a two-by-four swung out and connected with the man’s head. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, and Ashley stepped into the hallway, a piece of a wooden chair held in her hands like a bat.
“You’re late,” she said.
Aside from a bump on the side of her head, Ashley looked none the worse for being missing the last two hours. Her hair was messy, and she was disheveled from being carried up two flights of stairs, but she was otherwise unharmed.
“You were early,” Smoak replied, checking Ashley’s wound. “What happened?”
“No time,” Ashley said. “It won’t be long before someone notices this guy is missing, from what he told me, he’s Gregor’s right-hand man.”
Smoak stooped, picked up her knives and slid them into their sheathes. She then retrieved the man’s Glock and handed it to Ashley, who slipped it into the waistband at the small of her back and knelt to retrieve a belt knife and spare magazines from one of the guards.
While Ashley finished equipping herself, Smoak took a picture of the unconscious man with her phone. “Let’s get out of here, then.”
“Can’t, not yet,” Ashley said. “Rayne was here, but they moved her to another location, and I haven’t found out where.”
“How do you know she isn’t still here somewhere?” Smoak asked.
“Do you remember our last mission to Baghdad?”
Smoak nodded. “Yeah, I got shot. What does that have to do with anything?”
“You aren’t the only one who can get a bad guy to monologue. He told me all about it, but he didn’t know where Gregor had taken her. All he knew was she was going to be sold to some low-life slaver named Igor once they were done with her.”
“Of course she is,” Smoak said. “What else would you do with her? Is Gregor here?”
“He’s on the top floor in the manager’s office,” Ashley replied. “He’s got—”
“— ten or fifteen guards,” Smoak finished. “I heard.”
She unslung her bow and knocked an arrow while Ashley looked on. When she was finished, Ashley plucked at the bow with her fingers.
“You’re bringing a bow to a gunfight?”
Smoak looked at the bow then back at her friend. “No, I’m bringing knives to a gunfight. The bow just gives me something to do with my hands.”
“Have I mentioned you’re crazy?” Ashley asked.
“Many times. Follow me and stay close. We remain quiet as long as we can, I don’t really want to kill everyone in the building. It’ll take all night.”
Ashley nodded and gripped the Glock in a cup and saucer stance, checking behind while Smoak moved forward.
They made it to the fifth-floor lobby without encountering anyone. Two men stood in front of the door, Heckler and Koch MP7s hung on slings in front of them. Smoak put an arrow through the throat of the guard on the left. Ashley’s thrown knife hit the other gun thug in the eye, and both men dropped, sagging against each other like long-lost lovers. Smoak moved forward to check the door while Ashley retrieved her knife and took one of the MP7s.
“Did you ever qualify with that thing?” Smoak asked.
Ashley ejected the magazine, checked it, reinserted it and chambered a round with her eyes closed.
“Nope. Can we get a move on?”
Smoak shrugged. “You keep telling me you’re just a computer geek—”
“Who likes guns. Are you going to lea
d or should I?”
Smoak grinned at the annoyed look on Ashley’s face and hurried up the stairs. The pair bypassed the next five floors, not stopping until they neared the tenth. Smoak cocked her head and held up a hand for Ashley to stop.
I hear three voices, she signed.
Ashley nodded and touched the suppressor on her MP7 and pointed upward. I’ll take the shot from the next landing.
You go first. I’ll watch our backs. Don’t miss, Smoak replied.
Ashley adjusted the submachine gun and moved forward in a silent cross-step that left her on the landing, facing up the next flight of stairs. The MP7 coughed three times, and Smoak heard a thud from above. Ashley then proceeded up the stairs.
Smoak followed and joined her on the landing above. Three gun thugs lay on the floor, their pistols still holstered.
Ashley checked the door and held up the okay sign. No one had heard.
Nice, Smoak signed.
They continued up the stairs to the eleventh floor, where Gregor was supposed to have his headquarters. There were no guards at the fire door, but Smoak could see shadows through the small, reinforced window. It didn’t look as if Gregor traveled light.
What’s the plan? Ashley asked.
It looks like there are a lot of them. Over, under, around or through?
Ashley tapped her teeth and watched the window. How did you get into the fifth floor?
Smoak shrugged. I climbed.
Ashley smiled and pointed toward the roof exit at the top of the stairs. Over.
The afternoon rain had become a full-blown Florida thunderstorm, turning twilight into full dark. Lightning crackled across a sullen purple sky and thunder rolled, shaking the building. Smoak and Ashley stepped out onto the hospital’s roof and jogged toward the southern face, where the hardware for the For Sale banner still sat, awaiting retrieval from a sign company that was never coming. Most of the gear was junk, but a roll of the heavy nylon rope used to position the banner was still useable. Smoak cut several lengths and pulled a handful of carabineers from her pack. Ten minutes later, she had two makeshift rappelling lines attached to roof anchor points.
“Are you sure about this?” Smoak asked.
“No!” Ashley replied. “I haven’t done this in years, but I don’t see how we have a choice.”
“I’ll go first,” Smoak said. “Count to three and follow me down.”
She didn’t wait for Ashley to answer. She backed off the roof and vanished into the rain, making three short jumps to end just above a set of eleventh-floor windows. Ashley joined her, and they hung in place, looking through the window into a large, darkened room. Smoak nodded at Ashley and the dark-haired woman lifted the MP7.
They pushed off from the wall and swung out over the blackness. When they reached the peak of their swing Ashley fired two bursts from the H & K, breaking the windows enough that they could crash through. The glass shattered under their weight, and they landed in the room, accompanied by the tinkle of glass and the low rumble of thunder.
They were in a large conference room. The table that had once been the room’s centerpiece was long gone, but a handful of the soft leather-covered chairs that had gone with it still sat in the room, the leather torn and stained from misuse. The room was otherwise empty.
The two women unhooked their makeshift harnesses and moved toward the door. Half a dozen electric lanterns glowed in the hallway beyond, and Smoak could hear footsteps. Gregor’s people coming to check what the noise was.
Smoak held up two fingers, drew her knives and pressed herself to the wall just inside the door. Ashley mirrored her, the submachine gun at the ready. Ten seconds later, two men, both dressed in jeans and tee shirts, entered with flashlights and pistols at the ready.
The light picked out the broken glass on the floor.
“What the hell?” the second man muttered.
It was the last thing he ever said. Smoak stepped out of the shadow, wrapped her arm around his neck and slit his throat as if she had done it a thousand times. The other turned at the choking gurgle from his partner and took a bullet in the chest for his trouble.
The two women pulled the bodies deeper into the shadows and returned to the hallway.
The office should be to the right, Ashley signed.
Smoak motioned for Ashley to go first. She watched as her friend picked her way down the corridor before stepping out herself. Walking backwards on the opposite side of the hall, she kept her eyes on the observation windows and the hallway behind them.
Gregor had taken over the hospital director’s office, which sat at the end of the corridor. A receptionist’s desk, now covered in dust and debris, sat outside, next to half a dozen leather chairs. Ashley crouched low by the desk and motioned for Smoak to take up position opposite her, out of sight of the door. When she drew closer, Smoak could hear voices speaking in Russian, discussing what they were going to have for dinner, and what they were going to do with the girl Stepan had captured.
Smoak held up her fist and signed across the hall to Ashley. Five, coming out. Get back behind the desk and be ready to cover me.
Ashley nodded and set the MP7 on full auto before vanishing into the shadow cast by the old wooden counter. When she was out of sight, Smoak skirted the chairs and squatted behind the door, her knives at the ready.
A few minutes later, the men exited the room. Four were dressed like all the others they’d seen in jeans, tee shirts and weapons. The one at the back was dressed in a light grey suit that contrasted with his salt and pepper hair. Smoak stepped out behind him and held a blade to the back of his neck.
“You must be Gregor,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you. You guys keep your hands off the hardware, or your boss is going to be bleeding all over his Armani.”
Gregor dropped the briefcase he was carrying and held up his hands while his guards spun around in surprise, their hands dropping to the MP7s hanging under their arms.
“Easy, boys, I’m sure the young lady isn’t here to harm me,” Gregor said, his English tinged with only a hint of Russian accent. “Do as she says.”
The gun thugs looked angry, but raised their hands away from their weapons. As they did, Ashley stepped out of the shadow, her own weapon leveled at them.
“Good choice,” she said. “Hey, Gregor, guess you won’t be selling me to the highest bidder after all.”
“You! You’re the brown hair I caught snooping around the lab. You ladies have me at a disadvantage. What do you want?”
“Three days ago, you had a girl named Rayne held here,” Smoak said. “What happened to her?”
“Rayne? I do not know anyone named Rayne,” Gregor said. “I cannot help you.”
Smoak pressed the knife harder into Gregor’s neck. “Trinity. You used to call her Trinity.”
“Trinity? She was nothing but a drug courier and whore,” Gregor said. “I haven’t seen her in at least two years.”
“Wrong answer,” Ashley said. “I know she was here, and I know you talked to someone named Igor about her.”
Smoak twisted the knife into Gregor’s flesh, causing him to gasp in pain. Blood trickled down the back of his neck and into his shirt, the crimson glistening in flickers of lightning through the window.
“Stop jerking us around, bub,” she snarled. “I only need you alive. Start talking or your thugs will be carrying you out of here in pieces.”
“Okay, okay!” Gregor said. “She was here. A cop I know found her for me, and I had her brought in.”
“Murphy,” Ashley said. “Why? Why did you want to see her?”
“When she left the Bratva, she stiffed my boss for a whole shipment of H,” Gregor said. “She took her last delivery and vanished into thin air. We’d given up on finding the bitch when Murphy saw her at that Furnace place and told me where she was. I had her picked up and brought here.”
“That’s how she and Blaze are going to school,” Smoak said. “What did you do with her? Did you kill her?”
Gregor tried to shake his head and winced at the pain in his neck. “Of course not! She owes me twenty-five grand. I can’t get it back from a corpse.”
“Then you get to live through the night,” Smoak said. “Where is she?”
“Valerian will kill me,” Gregor said.
Smoak moved her blade to his jugular and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “What do you think I’m going to do? Worry about me.”
One of the guards had been half watching something out the window. His eyes suddenly widened and he cried, “What the fuck? Gregor, get down!” in heavily accented English.
Smoak glanced to her left and had just enough time to register a black Mi-38 helicopter flying past before the windows exploded inward. Gregor’s men jerked like ragdolls, their bodies riddled by automatic gunfire. Smoak pulled Gregor back and used him like a shield, hoping he was as muscular as he looked, while Ashley dove behind the desk. Gregor’s terrified scream was cut off as a dozen bullets raked his thigh and abdomen, ripping open his flesh in a spray of crimson.
When the gunfire paused, Smoak pushed Gregor’s bleeding corpse away and rolled behind the desk with Ashley. She sheathed her blades, grabbed her friend around the waist and pulled her into a run, half-guiding and half-carrying her down the corridor. Bullets dogged them every step of the way, punching holes in the old carpet and walls behind them.
As they neared the end of the hallway, Smoak pulled the Glock from Ashley’s waistband and blew out the windows ahead of them with six well-placed shots. She tossed the pistol aside, took Ashley’s hand and jumped. The two women crashed through the glass and fell six feet to the top of the For Sale banner that still hung on the side of the building.
“You’re crazy!” Ashley screamed, hanging from the banner with one hand.
“I know,” Smoak yelled back. “But we’re alive. That RPK would have ripped us to shreds.”
“Yeah, but now what? We’re easy targets, and it won’t take that chopper long to find us”
“I’m working on it,” Smoak replied. She pulled on the banner and looked down. The banner disappeared into the darkness below, some forty or fifty feet. That would still leave them fifty feet or so above the ground.
