V Plague (Book 17): Abaddon

by Patton, Dirk

  47

  Captain Black paced across the small living room, pausing at each window to peer at the lush vegetation that had taken over the yard. He’d lost count of how many times he’d circled the interior, but suspected it was already well over forty.

  Despite being a Marine and working as security for the Admiral, most of which entailed mind-numbingly long hours of waiting, he wasn’t a patient man. It was easy for him when required by a duty assignment because it was all part of being in the Corps. But when it came to something like this, he felt like a caged lion.

  Viktoriya had disappeared into the bathroom with her duffel over half an hour ago and he’d yet to hear water running or a toilet flush. The house was so small and the walls so thin, he was certain he couldn’t have missed either of those sounds. Frustration threatening to boil over, he marched up to the flimsy door and rapped loudly, surprised when it opened a moment later.

  She stood in front of a chipped mirror, an amazingly large collection of makeup tubes and bottles and pads and brushes and powders and about a dozen other things he couldn’t identify spread out across the sink and top of the toilet lid. She was busily running a large brush over her throat, continuing down to her chest and the tops of her mostly exposed breasts.

  “Sorry. Do you need the bath?” she asked without pausing.

  “What are you doing?”

  For the moment his impatience and frustration were forgotten. Viktoriya dropped the brush onto the sink and turned to face him. She smiled when his eyes widened in surprise.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I... what the hell?”

  She laughed and turned back to the mirror for another look at her work. Black stared at her, hardly recognizing the face in the reflection. In fact, if he’d met her on the street looking like this, he might not have known it was the same woman. Her hair had been styled and pulled to the side, making her forehead appear larger. Somehow, her eyes were higher on her face and farther apart. Her nose was shaped differently and her mouth was dramatically wider, changing the appearance of her jawline.

  “Good enough to go out and not be recognized?” she asked, turning to face him again.

  “And then some,” he said. “How the hell?”

  “It is just makeup. A skill I was taught many years ago. An easy way for a woman to completely change her appearance without it being obvious that she has done so.”

  Black could only stare at her, looking closely at each feature as he tried to figure out what she’d done. She stared back at him with intensity. For a moment he held her gaze, then his eyes slid away and he took a step back.

  “Why do all this?”

  “We need food and some other basic necessities,” she said, turning off the light switch and squeezing past him, trailing a perfectly manicured hand across his chest.

  He considered her answer as he followed her to the living room.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  She smiled and shook her head.

  “The police are looking for us. My people are looking for me. The Navy is looking for you. One thing they all know at this point is that we are together. Every couple will be scrutinized carefully. You could not look more like a Marine if you tried. You will draw instant attention. But, do I look anything like the woman you first met at the hospital?”

  She struck a pose and smiled, brows raised as she waited for his answer.

  “No,” he conceded. “You look like any of a thousand other pretty girls that hang out at the beach.”

  “You think I am pretty?” she asked immediately.

  Black’s face flushed red and he scowled as she laughed.

  “I am sorry, Captain. Perhaps I am being a bit difficult, but you are such an easy target. I will try to be more reserved.”

  He stared at her, finally shaking his head. Still smiling, she picked up her purse and upended it, dumping the contents on the sofa.

  Prominent amongst them was the sound suppressed pistol she’d used to kill the Mafiya soldiers at her condo. It was returned to the bag along with a wad of cash and she slipped the long strap over her head. Black didn’t fail to note that she wasn’t taking anything along that could positively identify her. Not that it mattered.

  “You should leave the weapon,” he said. “If a cop stops you, it won’t matter that you don’t have ID.”

  She thought about that for a long moment before pulling the pistol out and handing it to him. He stuck it in his waistband on the opposite side from his weapon.

  “Any special requests?” she asked as she headed for the front door.

  “Anything’s fine,” he said. “Just be careful and don’t draw attention to yourself.”

  “Do not worry, Captain. Everyone will be looking at my tits and ass, not my face.”

  She smiled at the small dig about his earlier comment, slipped on a pair of large sunglasses and disappeared through the door. Black shook his head as he hurried to the window. He saw her for a few moments, then the jungle pushing in on the house seemed to swallow her whole. A second later there was the squeak of rusty hinges as she opened a gate he couldn’t see.

  Lots of people were moving on the street when Viktoriya stepped through the gate. Few vehicles, as fuel was now worth its weight in gold, but that wasn’t keeping Hawaii’s residents from enjoying a warm sunny day.

  The smell of the ocean was heavy in the air, a slight haze softening the sun’s intensity. Hurrying across the street, she blended into a steady stream of people heading for the beach. They were all dressed similar to her and she was just another girl looking forward to a day on the sand.

  As she moved along with a large group of people, her eyes were constantly scanning. Searching for anyone or anything out of place. She didn’t think it was possible that anyone knew of her safe-house, but she hadn’t survived in America as an illegal foreign agent by taking assumptions as fact. Always assume your deepest secrets are known, she reminded herself.

  Despite her focus on watching the environment around her, she allowed her mind to wander. And it went right where she didn’t want it to go. The American Marine.

  What was it about him? Since the moment she’d laid eyes on him in the parking garage, she’d been unable to get him out of her head. He wasn’t movie star handsome or anything like that. In fact, he was rather ordinary looking. And he was obviously awkward and uncomfortable around a beautiful woman.

  But, in all fairness, she had to admit that she’d done just about everything she could to make him feel that way. Smiling to herself, knowing thoughts of anything ever developing between the two of them were foolish, she turned her head toward the large plate glass window of a surf clothing store.

  It appeared she was window shopping, but her eyes were focused on the reflection of the street around her. Male pedestrians, and a few female were checking her out. A single car slowly drove past, an elderly looking man behind the wheel. A young woman pushing a baby stroller on the opposite sidewalk.

  Her eyes lingered on the mother for a beat. The entire persona would be a fantastic cover for a surveillance operative. Noticeable, yet instantly dismissed. Viktoriya noticed her, cataloged her and looked forward when she was past the shop.

  Ahead were more shops and a boardwalk that headed off to the beach at a ninety-degree angle. Most of the pedestrians were making the turn, moving faster when they got their first glimpse of the sparkling water and white sand. A few people continued straight, as did she.

  Twenty yards beyond the boardwalk, she suddenly spun on her heel and reversed course. Her eyes darted about as she searched for anyone who might be following her and was caught unprepared for her unexpected about face. No one seemed to care or be the slightest bit interested other than a pair of young men who ogled her as they walked past.

  Stopping again just before the boardwalk, Viktoriya made a production of peering into her purse as she dug for something. She had actually cut her eyes all the way up to make another scan of the street f
rom behind the sunglasses. Seeing nothing of concern, she turned a second time and continued on her original path.

  Another block and she reached a small, neighborhood grocer. Pushing through the door, she looked at the man behind a counter and smiled a greeting. Large, convex mirrors hung at the end of each aisle so he could watch for theft. She used them to keep an eye on the entrance and the other patrons as she shopped.

  Quickly filling a basket with produce that had probably been grown in someone’s back yard, she added a home canned jar of mustard, another of honey and a loaf of rice bread wrapped in a banana leaf. It was a far cry from the grocery stores of America from when she’d first arrived in the country, but the people of Hawaii had found a way to survive.

  Purchases paid for, she hefted the box the man had been kind enough to allow her to load her groceries into. People were expected to bring their own bags, but a crestfallen expression from Viktoriya when he broke the news was enough to send him searching for the box. Thanking the proprietor, she took her time scanning the street before pushing through the door.

  Turning to head home, she glanced at the mirror-like surface of the grocer’s front window and a chill passed over her. Across the street, thirty yards behind was the young mother with the stroller. Sure, she could have simply been out for a walk and turned around while Viktoriya was shopping, but she didn’t believe in coincidence.

  Turning abruptly, she returned to the grocer as if she’d suddenly remembered something else she needed. Just before she entered, the glass door reflected a passing car with an elderly driver. She’d been found.

  48

  Viktoriya rushed back into the store and plunked her box of purchases onto the counter in front of the surprised clerk.

  “Do you have a back door?”

  “A back door? Why?”

  She glanced toward the street as if she were frightened. It wasn’t hard to pull off.

  “My ex is out there waiting for me,” she said breathlessly.

  The man looked at the door as if it were about to burst open.

  “He gonna hurt you?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. He is crazy. Will not accept that it is over. Please, just let me slip out the back!”

  “Now, hold on there,” he said, looking at her. “Maybe we should call the cops. Let them take care of him for you.”

  “No!” Viktoriya blurted as he reached for a phone. He paused and looked at her funny. “He has done nothing wrong. Not yet. The police cannot help. Please, just help me slip away!”

  The man hesitated another few seconds, looked to the door then back at Viktoriya. A large black sedan suddenly appeared in the street, gliding to a stop directly in front of the door.

  “That’s him! Please open the door!”

  She took a few steps toward the rear of the store, hoping it would spur the man into motion. Instead, he reached beneath the counter and brought out a well-worn pistol before hurrying around to stand next to her.

  “Stay behind me and I’ll send him on his way,” he said, moving to place himself between her and the door.

  Viktoriya reached out and grasped the man’s neck where it met his shoulder, pressing hard on the right spot. He cried out as his arm suddenly went numb and she grabbed the weapon from his nerveless fingers. Quickly stepping away, she pulled the slide back far enough to verify there was a round in the chamber.

  “You need to hide,” she hissed at the man, turning and running for the back.

  Before she could reach the shelter of the stock room, an electronic tone announced that the front door had opened. Diving into another aisle to hide was pointless due to the anti-theft mirrors hanging from the ceiling. But doing it for cover from incoming fire was a fine idea.

  An instant before she leapt sideways, she caught a glimpse of two large men in the mirror directly ahead. Despite the beautiful day and proximity to the beach, both were dressed in track suits. If there was a uniform for the Russian Mafiya, this was it.

  The larger of the two was in the lead, savagely bulling the store owner aside as he raised a small machine pistol. A silencer extended from the muzzle and a long tongue of flame erupted from it as he aimed in her direction and pulled the trigger. Boxes of produce exploded from the impact of the bullets and Viktoriya crab-walked deeper into the store.

  Taking a peek at the mirror over her head, she could see the two men separating. Intending to drive her into a corner where they could finish her off. One of them noticed the man who’d tried to help her scrambling for the phone and aimed his weapon at him. Before he could pull the trigger, there was a soft pop and the sound of breaking glass. The Russian’s head exploded and he toppled to the floor.

  The second man looked over his shoulder, stopping and gaping at his dead comrade. Viktoriya stood as the door annunciator sounded, bringing the pistol up to target him. Cursing in Russian, he fired at the store’s owner who dove to safety behind the counter.

  There was movement at the entrance, several more pops sounding, now recognizable as suppressed gunfire. The Russian staggered back a step, twisting to aim at his assailant, then Viktoriya pulled the trigger.

  The unsuppressed pistol, easily twice as old as she was, roared and bucked in her hands a fraction of a second before the Russian’s head snapped to the side and he collapsed onto the floor. Unsure who had come to her aid and why, she whipped the weapon to aim at the figure standing just inside the entrance.

  “Let’s go!” Black shouted.

  Not hesitating, she ran to where he was patting down one of the Russian’s clothing. Finding a wad of keys, he slammed the door open, paused to scan the street then ran for the Mafiya’s vehicle.

  “Get in,” he called, ripping the driver’s door open and leaping behind the wheel.

  She ran around the back and jumped in as he started the engine and floored the gas. With a squeal of burning rubber, the big car shot away from the curb and he took the first turn to the right, away from the beach.

  For a couple of blocks, Viktoriya was on her knees, looking over the front seat and through the back window. She clutched the head rest tightly as Black sent the heavy car through a skidding turn, then twisted around and dropped into her seat.

  “No one is following,” she said.

  He nodded, checked the mirrors and made another violent swerve.

  “Cops are going to be all over this neighborhood in a heartbeat,” he said, pushing hard and blasting through an intersection as the light turned red. “How the fuck did they find you? Thought you said the house was off the books?”

  “It is! It was!”

  “Apparently not. And since this isn’t a government car, I’m guessing those two goons were Mafiya?”

  Viktoriya nodded, thinking about how she’d rented the house and the rare occasions she’d visited it. She’d always been extremely careful. The lease was under a fake identity she’d personally created after arriving in the US. It had never been used for anything other than paying the safe house rent and utilities. Everything had been done in cash and no one other than her, and now the American, had ever been there.

  “Well?” Black asked when she didn’t respond.

  “Yes, they were Mafiya,” she said. “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace safe,” he said, slowing to the posted limit after turning onto the Kamehameha Highway.

  “Safe?” she asked, giving him a sideways look.

  Two police cars suddenly appeared from around a bend, engines straining and sirens screaming. They watched them approach and flash by, the wake of their passing rocking the sedan on its suspension.

  “Why did you follow me?”

  Black shrugged, watching the police cruisers recede in the mirror.

  “After you left, I just had this feeling. Can’t explain it.”

  She watched him drive for a minute then reached over and placed her hand on his arm.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Seemed you had it under control.”

  Viktoriya was
still gripping the old pistol she’d taken from the shop owner. The slide was jammed open by a split barrel. One shot was all the old weapon had been able to handle. He glanced at the gun, grimaced slightly and turned his attention back to the road. She left her hand on his arm as they drove.

  49

  “What the holy fuck was that?” I said under my breath.

  Dog moved tight against my leg, teeth bared. His head was down and I could feel the tension in his body. Rachel moved next to us, also aiming in the direction the roar had come from.

  “Watch our backs,” I hissed to her.

  She immediately spun, bringing her rifle up to face the other direction. Her back gently bumped mine as she ensured nothing could get between us.

  But I wasn’t worried about between. Whatever the hell had killed the three men and made that earth-shaking roar was in the direction we needed to go to reach the hall that led back to the surface.

  Adrenaline was pumping hard and my senses had sharpened. I could smell the beast but had no idea what it was. All I knew for certain was that the primitive part of my brain was warning me that there was something far more dangerous than I was.

  I couldn’t see it, but I could hear breathing. Not like a human. This was a massive and powerful set of lungs that was drawing air in and out. What I couldn’t tell was how far it was from the intersection. It had obviously been drawn back to the area by our arrival, but I didn’t understand why it had left in the first place. There were three fresh kills on the floor and I hadn’t seen any indication the bodies had been fed on.

  “Okay,” I said in a low mumble. “We’re going to move toward the exit, very slowly. Turn at the intersection. When we do, you and Dog get ahead of me and get the hell out of here.”

  Rachel didn’t argue, which was new in itself. But then she had the baby to think about as well. Fear for my unborn child triggered another massive dump of adrenaline into my system, the heat and pressure in my head nearly unbearable. I had to make a concerted effort to stop myself from charging headlong down the corridor to battle the monster hiding in the darkness.