by Alex Archer
“The train. It’s nuclear powered, like base above our heads. Will run for many years. Many, many years.”
Gianni pointed at the cables running from the charging unit Vlad had dug out of a nearby equipment closet to the engineer’s panel inside the conductor’s car. “Then what’s with the wires?”
“Secondary systems run on chargeable batteries. Charge was nyet, so I recharge.”
Annja looked at the sixteen-car subway train with a sense of wonder that mirrored Vlad’s reaction when he’d first seen it. “Will it take us where we need to go?” she asked.
“Da. Can leave in ten minutes, once charging complete.”
Annja clapped him on the back. “Excellent! In the meantime, Gianni and I will set up a little surprise for our Russian friends.”
He only hoped they had ten minutes to spare.
Chapter 28
Danislov looked down at the dot glowing on the locator screen and allowed himself a smile. The tab had been activated a few minutes before and from there it was simplicity itself to follow it to the edge of the “city.”
Based on the information the locator device was giving him, Creed and her companions had taken refuge in the Metro-2 station just ahead.
Danislov couldn’t think of a better spot for them right now.
He glanced over at Subotin to his left. He’d found his former point man a few minutes ago, lying unconscious, his radio and weapons missing. No doubt they were now in the hands of the ever-resourceful Annja Creed.
Subotin wasn’t happy. Being beaten by a woman in hand-to-hand combat had embarrassed him and he was itching for a chance to pay her back tenfold. This was a problem for Danislov, of course. He needed Creed whole and healthy, which was why Subotin was right here at his side where he could keep an eye on him.
Danislov picked up his radio and put the next phase of their operation into motion.
“Command to all units. Fugitives located in the Metro-2 station. Move in and secure.”
He knew that Creed didn’t speak Russian, but at least one member of her party certainly did. And he fully expected she had Subotin’s radio.
* * *
WHEN VLAD HEARD DANISLOV give the order for his men to move in on the station, he relayed that information to Annja and then began disconnecting the charging lines from the train’s control center. Annja, meanwhile, took up a position near the bottom of the steps, the Russian rifle she’d confiscated in her hands.
Gianni, however, objected strenuously to waiting.
“We should get out of here,” he said. “The tunnel ahead of the train is open, why can’t we start walking?”
Annja looked at him for a long moment before saying, “We could, I guess, if we wanted to walk fifty kilometers back to Moscow. I don’t know about you, but that’s not high on my list of choices.”
“Oh. Right.”
He opened his mouth to say something more but never got the chance.
Screaming began to echo down to them from above.
* * *
THE PLAN WAS SIMPLE.
Assault the Metro-2 station with enough force and firepower to make it look convincing but leave Creed and company an escape route through the Metro-2 tunnels, which is really where Danislov wanted them to go, anyway.
Of course, with the tracker in place, Danislov could always pull his men back and wait for Creed to move forward on her own. But he guessed that Creed had come to expect a certain amount of tenacity from his unit and walking away now, when it seemed they had their prey cornered in the Metro-2 station, wouldn’t look right. He knew from her dossier just how much that kind of thing nagged at her and how she would chase it down to find the truth. If she started to pull on that string, before he knew it she would have unraveled the whole thing, exposing Goshenko’s hand behind it all. That would mean heads would roll, namely his.
No, better to stage the assault and get her driving forward toward the end game than to allow it all to grind to a halt right here and now.
It was a good plan.
And it fell apart not two minutes after it got under way.
The Metro-2 station had been built with only one way in and out—a single, narrow stairwell that led down a flight of steps to a simulated ticketing level and then down a second flight to the platform itself. There was no need for more as it was not intended to support the kind of traffic a real metro station saw on a daily basis, despite the fact that a working train did occasionally come and go.
That first, narrow stairwell created the perfect bottleneck and Annja had selected it as the location of her parting gift.
She’d taken care to string trip wires in an interlacing pattern halfway down the stairs, when those encountering them would be in the darkest portion of the stairwell. She arranged the mirrors along the walls themselves, using big sheets of stick-on Velcro to mount them. She even took the time to lay them out artistically at different heights and in different shapes so their presence might pass as decorative.
It was a simple trap and, as fate would have it, it ended up trumping Danislov’s simple plan.
He sent his men down the stairwell in standard Russian wedge formation, guns out, night-vision goggles on, and his point man never saw the trip wires until he ran directly into them.
There was a click and a ping as the trip wires pulled the caps of the roadside flares she’d bundled together into little stacks, igniting them in a brilliant flash of white-red light that was picked up and amplified by the mirrors hanging in the small space.
For the men wearing the night-vision goggles, it was like staring into the sun as it went supernova from less than five feet away.
Chapter 29
It sounded as if they were being skinned alive.
From her position at the bottom of the second set of stairs, Annja actually cringed to hear it. She’d meant for her pyrotechnic display to slow pursuit and hadn’t really expected it to do much more than that, but judging from the noise she might have taken out some of those goons in a more permanent manner.
They’ve tried to kill you more than once, she reminded herself. They got what was coming to them.
She heard the train’s electric motor cough into life behind her and turned to see Vlad hold up a hand.
Five minutes.
Should be easy enough.
Then the first bullets started to fly.
* * *
DANISLOV HADN’T STARTED down the stairwell when the trap went off, so he was able to squeeze his eyes shut and turn away at the first indication of trouble. That saved him from the worst of it.
His eyes still burned and watered, and he was stuck seeing stars for at least a minute afterward, but that was all. He pitied whoever it was who’d tripped the wire in the first place. They were going to be hurting for a long time. Hell, he’d be surprised if they could ever see again.
The men from the front rank were staggering back up out of the stairwell, helped by the others in the row behind who hadn’t been as affected by the blast. The sight stirred vicious anger in Danislov.
What was wrong with this woman? Why the hell couldn’t she just do what was expected of her for a change?
He felt the urge to smash something beneath his hands and took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself.
He’d scanned and loaded the blueprint for the facility onto his phone while aboard the chopper. He pulled it out and began paging through the files, looking for the one that covered the Metro-2 station. Finding it, he gave it a quick scan, nodded to himself and looked over to see which of his men were still able. After a moment’s consideration, he called Subotin over to him.
“Come with me,” he said, and the other man nodded.
They walked back to the stairwell and descended one flight, kicking the still-burning flares out of their way as they went. When Danislov reached the bottom he stopped and looked carefully around the corner.
There was no one there.
He signaled to Subotin and then headed for the second stair
well. His subordinate followed at a respectful distance, not wanting to impede Danislov’s firing arc if something were to go down.
Danislov could hear an electric whine coming from somewhere on the platform beneath them. He puzzled over that for a moment, before he realized what it was.
They’ve got a train.
Learning that the Metro-2 line was, in fact, real had been a shock, but any doubt disappeared the moment Goshenko had handed him the blueprint. Still, knowing the secret subway system existed and having an operational train that could take you down those tracks were two different things.
He wanted to see it for himself.
Danislov hurried to the mouth of the second stairwell. He had no idea how much longer Creed’s party was going to be in the station. In his haste, he nearly received a bullet through the skull the moment he came into view.
He caught sight of a dark-haired woman kneeling at the bottom of the steps and of the long gun she was pointing in his direction, and then his instincts took over and he was hurling himself down and backward to escape the shot.
“Damn this woman!” he snarled as he picked himself off the ground.
It was time for this to stop.
If he had to cut off her fingers one by one to get her to take him to the library, he would. He didn’t care about being subtle anymore.
Giving the staircase a wide birth, Danislov brought Subotin over to a metal grate set into a vertical pillar.
“This is a ventilation shaft. It starts on the floor below us and goes back up to the surface. While I distract the crazy woman, I want you to make your way down that shaft and wait for the right time to move in and subdue her.”
A dark little grin crossed Subotin’s face and for a moment Danislov considered asking someone else to handle the assignment, maybe Chechkov or Elanovin, one of the others who wasn’t walking around with a chip on their shoulder the size of Red Square. But Subotin had a better chance of succeeding, with his long arms and legs.
“I need her able to answer questions, Subotin, so don’t screw it up.”
Between the two of them they made short work of removing the vent cover and then Danislov left Subotin to it as he returned to the stairwell.
This time he stayed back from the opening and simply shouted downward.
“Annja Creed!”
When he received no answer, he tried again.
“Annja Creed!”
He could hear his voice echoing down the stairwell.
“What?”
She sounded calm, in control.
“There’s no need for all this foolishness, Miss Creed.”
“I’m not the one who started it.”
Danislov actually chuckled at that one. “I beg to differ, Miss Creed. You’ve got quite a list of complaints against you at the moment. Defacing and destroying a historical artifact. Resisting arrest. Assaulting an officer during the performance of his duties. Trespassing in a top-secret area. Shall I go on?”
He glanced over at the ventilation shaft but couldn’t see Subotin anymore, so he knew he was on his way. Maybe another minute or two…
“Are you listening, Miss Creed?”
* * *
ANNJA STARED UP FROM the corner of the steps below, waiting for the cheeky bugger above to show himself again. She knew she was tired because he was starting to annoy her and that was never a good sign.
Patience, Annja, patience.
She knew he was stalling; there really wasn’t any other reason for him to talk to her. This wasn’t a James Bond film where the villain unburdens himself of all the dastardly things he’s done before killing Bond, allowing Bond, of course, to escape in the meantime. No, this was real life, and in real life the villain just shoots you dead.
Which he’s already tried twice now.
But why? Why was he stalling?
That she didn’t know.
She glanced around, but didn’t see anyone else on the platform. She supposed someone might be making their way down the tunnel toward them at this very moment, but the platform lights kept her from seeing more than a few feet into the tunnel and there was no way she was going to hear them over the sound of the train’s electric engine, so there was no sense in worrying about it until it happened.
Maybe they’d be out of here by then.
She glanced back to see Vlad and Gianni loading the recharged batteries back into the special compartments that housed them. They were big and bulky, making them awkward to work with and difficult to move. Vlad saw her looking and indicated it would take another three minutes.
Still? she thought. Damn!
“Are you still there, Miss Creed?”
She gave it a beat, then said, “My daddy always taught me not to talk with strangers.”
She heard him chuckle. “I’ve been hunting you for days, Miss Creed. I hardly think we’re strangers to each other.”
“Since you know my name it’s only fair that you tell me yours,” she called up to him.
She could sense him there, just beyond the top of the stairs, and edged forward, trying to get a better picture. His legs came into view from the ankles down.
“Sergeant will do, Miss Creed. Are you ready to discuss your surrender?”
“Surrender? Why would I do that?”
“You are not the only one caught up in this situation, Miss Creed. There are others involved, as well. I would hate for them to come to harm as a result of your unwillingness to be reasonable. What would Mrs. Vikofsky do, for instance, without her son to take care of her?”
Annja edged forward another inch. Now she could see him from the knees down. All she had to do was lean out a little more… .
“Or that producer of yours back in New York. Doug, isn’t it? New York is such a big, dangerous city that one could have an accident at any time… .”
For just a second, the sergeant leaned forward, exposing more of his body to Annja. He was dressed in the same gray jumpsuit as the rest of his men. His hair was cut short, his goatee neatly trimmed, accentuating the scar on the side of his face rather than helping to hide it. He saw her at the exact same moment and his eyes widened with realization, but it was too late.
Yep, accidents happen all the time, she thought, and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 30
For a moment she thought she had him. The shot was a decent one as these things go, but she had miscalculated the angle of the stairwell she was firing through and ended up missing him by about an inch, sending the shot flashing past his ear instead of taking him in the chest as she’d intended.
He cursed and pulled back out of sight, even as she sent two more shots flying in his direction, using the staircase wall to try to turn a ricochet into a lucky hit.
When she pulled the trigger a fourth time, the gun clicked empty.
“Time to go!” she said to no one in particular as she threw the empty rifle away, turned and ran for the safety of the subway car some twenty feet behind her. She could see Vlad and Gianni inside, urging her on. Apparently they were ready to get under way.
She had crossed half the distance, the open doors beckoning to her, when something slammed into her with all the grace of a garbage truck.
Annja went down hard, scraping the side of her face against the unyielding surface of the platform as she bounced and slid for several feet with this weight on her.
The blow knocked the wind out of her and she was having a hard time regaining focus as she pushed herself into a sitting position.
The move helped clear her head and she realized belatedly that there was someone standing right in front of her. She glanced up, hoping to find Vlad or Gianni waiting to help her, but discovered instead the grinning face of the man she’d knocked out earlier that evening.
The fist he slammed into the side of her face told her he was still pretty pissed about it, too.
Down she went again.
With her head spinning from the blow, she barely noticed as her assailant picked her up like a sack of pota
toes and hurled her across the platform to slam into the wall covered with ceramic tiles.
He’d underestimated her once and apparently wasn’t going to make the same mistake a second time. Even as she was rolling over and trying to get to her feet, he headed back toward her, his movements swift and determined. Every facet of his being shouted, It’s payback time!
Annja wasn’t about to give up, though.
Should have stabbed him when I had the chance, she thought to herself, even as she scooped up some of the debris, dust and sand on the ground behind her with her right hand, using her body to shield the act from her assailant as he stalked toward her.
She waited until he was right on her, reaching for her again, before she went into action. She swept her right hand around and threw her handful in his eyes, causing him to rear back and howl. Annja used that opportunity to spin around and deliver the heel of her boot into the side of the man’s knee.
He went back.
She scrambled to her feet just as the train let out a hiss of releasing hydraulics and jerked forward a foot.
They were so not leaving her behind.
She turned to move toward them when a hand grabbed her ankle in a viselike grip and yanked her off her feet.
Annja rolled over as soon as she hit the ground, not wanting to let her assailant get her into a chokehold and use his greater weight to end it. He apparently had the same idea, as he was pulling her toward him and trying to clamber up her body at the same time.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see the train starting to move, one inch at a time, rolling forward.
You need to be on that train.
She pulled back her free leg and kicked him in the face.
His head rocked back but he didn’t let go.
She did it again.
Still no effect.
He batted her leg aside and with one heave pulled himself halfway up her body, pinning her legs beneath his torso. In another few seconds he would have her trapped beneath his larger, heavier form. After that, she would need a miracle to get free.
She twisted and turned, but got nowhere. He pulled himself astride her, one knee on either side of her waist, and reared up to deliver a hammer blow from over his head.
