“No,” he said. “The lack of sniper fire.”
Rebecca looked up to the refrigerator riddled with holes. Yet no bullets flew through them.
Lopez grabbed her arm, urging her up. “We’ve got to get to new ground.”
They joined Harvish. She peeked through the cracked door.
The point man indicated to the stairwell. “That’s the only way down, so unless you want to jump eight stories down, I’m not sure what your backup plan is.”
Lopez gritted his teeth. “Time to go balls forward.”
She didn’t know exactly what that meant to the corporal, but if meant getting out of this apartment, Rebecca was all for it.
“Harvish, shoot out the lock,” Lopez said, pointing to the door across the hallway.
The point man didn’t hesitate. The opposite door swung open.
“Cover us,” Lopez said, taking Rebecca’s hand. “We’ve got to haul ass.”
Rebecca laughed nervously. “Duh. It’s you.”
His grin was a ghost of what it normally was as he nodded to Harvish. The point man stepped farther out, firing toward the stairwell as Lopez and Rebecca bolted across the hallway. A half step out and the attackers braved Harvish’s cover fire, shooting back.
Lopez spun Rebecca inward, offering his back to the hail of bullets, slamming into the other door. Harvish followed on their heels, still firing down the hallway.
The point man breathed heavily. “Great, Lopez. So now we’re across the hall. Not exactly a green zone.”
“How far do you think the buildings are apart?” Lopez asked.
“Can’t be more than four meters,” Harvish answered.
Rebecca looked at the window. The buildings were stacked closely together. But what did that have to do with…
“Tell me your plan involves jury-rigging some kind of ladder across that gap, Ricky,” she begged.
Gunfire rattled at the door. Even if they could build a ladder they certainly didn’t have time to actually build it.
“Shoot it out!” Lopez yelled.
Harvish obliged, shattering their window and the one across the way.
“We’re going to need to be going full speed, darlin’,” Lopez explained as he urged her to a run.
Rebecca didn’t have time to worry or freak out or refuse. Not as the feet on the refrigerator squealed as the attackers scraped it across the floor. Instead, she let her muscles do the work, dashing across the room. Lopez went first, leaping onto the small seat beneath the window and diving through the opening. Rebecca was only a few steps behind.
Then she hit open air. Rebecca tried to keep from looking down, but how could you? The ground seemed so far away. Like a distant dream. Hitting her shoulder against the other building certainly woke her up. Her body bounced off the gray plaster as she tumbled into the apartment, slamming into a kitchen table, smashing its legs.
She didn’t even have time to get out of the way as Harvish landed with a crash at her feet.
Within a breath all three were up, running for the door. On the way the point man shot out the lock, so they hit the opened door at a full sprint, spilling out into the hallway. The blissful hallway without bullets flying. They made for the stairwell until Lopez stopped at a door and strangely knocked.
“What are you doing?” she asked, knowing that she really, really, really didn’t want to know the answer.
After no answer, Lopez shot out the lock. “They’ll swarm us at ground level if we go down now. We’ve got to get lost in the buildings.”
Lopez opened the door. Rebecca backed away a step. “Clarify buildings.”
He urged her inside the new apartment. “We’ve just got to make that jump three more times. No biggie.”
“I really don’t think that phrase means what you think it means, Ricky.”
* * *
Davidson ignored the chunks of ledge that sprang up into the air and then fell back down in a shower of plaster. The other sniper was just showing off. So what that he had the bigger gun and knew how to use it?
The ruse had worked. The sniper’s attention was now focused on Davidson rather than the apartment. Fingers spasming, he had to release the gun. He swung the sight to the east. Still no sign of Rebecca, but there was enough gunfire in those buildings to indicate a small war.
Lopez must have gotten them out of that apartment by now. Right? The guy didn’t delay at much of anything.
A bullet skimmed the ledge, barely slowed from its 3,400 feet feet-per-second speed, cutting a line right next to Davidson.
Time to stop testing the other sniper and move into cover position.
Another bullet skimmed along the other side of him.
So it was going to be like that, huh?
He flexed his fingers, warming them, tempting them out of their pained contraction. How he wished for Talli’s rifle. It had longer range, better sights, and the trigger was ergonomically designed. Then he could have given the sniper a run for his money.
With this backup rifle though, he couldn’t even scare his opponent. The guy knew that if Davidson could have fired far enough to be a threat, he would have done so already.
Nope. Time to get out while the getting was good.
* * *
Brandt struggled to keep the bike upright as his rear wheel swerved of its own accord in the wet, slick creek bed. A fucking traffic jam had forced him off the road and into the fucking creek. All the commotion at the apartment buildings had created an exodus.
Sirens sounded in the distance. The authorities would be here in a few minutes, and high up on the ridge the biochemical lab showed signs of stirring. The Russians had an entire unit stationed there after the theft of the Rinderpest.
Now it wasn’t just a mission to extract Rebecca and his men. Now it was a mission to stay out of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation’s clutches. Or more likely the KGB’s clutches…in Siberia. A Special Forces team caught on Russian soil? That was one interrogation he could skip.
Past the long line of cars, Brandt gunned the motorcycle and popped the bike back onto the road. Dodging a pedestrian, he floored it for the alley that ran between the apartment buildings. He zagged to the left and entered the deep shadows of the narrow passageway. Muffled gunfire sounded. He’d just have to take a sharp right at the corner and then—
Broken glass showered down on him as his tires ground the shards.
What the hell?
He looked up in time to see a form leap overhead, jumping from building to building. Brandt slammed on the brakes, skidding the bike around as Harvish’s red hair streaked across the gap about four stories up. Gunfire followed. A dark figure dressed in black followed.
Brandt reached for his gun, but before he could even pull it, the figure leaped, then plummeted to the ground. He landed with a thud right in front of the bike. Blood seeped from a chest wound.
Davidson. Their eyes in the sky.
Not bothering to think that another day not that long ago that bullet could have been aimed at him, Brandt hit the gas, traveling back the way he came. Hitting the road, he headed north. He caught the sight of Rebecca leaping across the gap. Brandt slowed, keeping pace with his team. At the next alley he watched Lopez make the distance, dropping another floor. By the time they got to the end of the block of apartments, they would be at ground level. Smart move.
He waited until Rebecca made it across and then headed to the next alley.
Within moments the glass shattered and Lopez led the group, diving through to the second-floor window. Rebecca launched out the window, but she must have slipped as her trajectory sloped downward.
Gravity pulled at her hard.
She wasn’t going to make it.
* * *
Rebecca flailed even though she knew it would do no good. This wasn’t water. This was air. Thin air. There was no gaining altitude, only losing it.
She hit the side of the building, hard. Her fingers found the edge of the windowsill. Rebecca searched f
or something, anything more stable to latch onto. However, the Russians, not exactly being heavy on safety, didn’t have a fire escape or even a ladder for her to cling to. What she wouldn’t give for a single water pipe.
Her feet dangled beneath her. Her shoes finding no purchase on the smooth gray surface.
Harvish, firing behind him, apparently didn’t notice she was hanging on by a fingernail, literally, and made the leap across. She squeezed her eyes closed, not wanting to see the disaster, however the point man sailed through the window leaving her unscathed.
Lopez lashed a hand out, grabbing Rebecca’s wrist. Harvish added his hand to the effort. The two men were trying to pull her into the window when shots rang out. Bullets chipped into the wall. One must have caught Harvish. With a scream he released her hand. Only Lopez’s hand kept her from plummeting to the ground.
Her other hand flailed, trying to find the windowsill again when another hail of bullets sounded. Only this time it wasn’t at her, but at the gunman across the way. The dark figure fell backward.
Rebecca looked down to find a motorcycle below her. The man looked up with those blue eyes.
Brandt.
“Let go!” he yelled, revving the motorcycle.
“I’ve got her!” Lopez yelled back, but struggled to grasp her other hand.
Rebecca looked to the corporal. “It’s okay, Ricky.”
With that, Lopez let go of her wrist.
* * *
Brandt braced himself but was nowhere near ready for the impact as Rebecca fell into his arms. The girl had gained some post-breakup weight, that was for sure. They almost tipped the bike over, but he ground his heels into the pavement and kept them upright.
“You alright?” he asked as he freed his gun arm and pointed up to the gunman’s window in case any of them got any ideas.
Rebecca slipped from his arms to stand next to him. “Yeah. I’m bruised but good.”
She used her arm to brush back the sweaty hair that had loosened over her face. His heart swelled at the sight. But he’d had her and lost her and there were like a dozen different groups after them.
“Hop on,” he said.
As Rebecca swung her leg over the seat, snaking her arms around his midsection, Brandt sheathed his gun so he could steer. With Rebecca’s body pressed against his, he sped them out of the alley.
Lopez and Harvish knew the rally point. And Talli, well hopefully he could remember a rally point better than he provided cover.
Brandt felt Rebecca lay her cheek against his back as her arms squeezed so tightly he almost asked her to let up a bit. Almost.
Now to slip through all the gunmen, snipers, cops, and troops to get to the north side of town without being followed.
A piece of cake.
Yeah, right.
CHAPTER 9
══════════════════
Pushchino, Russia
2:28 p.m. GMT
Aunush spotted a flap of clothing upon the roof. “Ten o’clock.”
The sniper fired in quick succession at the point designated, but the other sniper had already disappeared behind a large air-conditioning unit. Their mystery sniper had found cover. How nice for him.
And the researcher had escaped the apartment as well. Which would have been a setback, however with Osip, dead by her hand, it became a crisis. She could do little though to turn back the clock. If only she could put all those police cars back into their regular patrol or stop the dozens of military jeeps sweeping down from the bioweapons laboratory.
While she might know many of the answers to man’s most deeply held secrets, Aunush could not unfold time.
Her only option was to clean up the mess.
“Retreat!” Aunush commanded her men.
She craned her neck to find the sniper gazing down upon her. Neither of their finest hour. But they were survivors, he and she. Certainly survivors enough to weather an assassination of the master’s father. After all, there was reason he lived out here in the dregs of Russia rather than the seat of power.
Hounded Dr. Monroe and company would hardly be informing the master of the nature of Osip’s untimely death.
No. The problem was their own men. Those who might actually feel the need to spread word of the old man’s stupid yet heroic actions.
Aunush nodded to her sniper. He went back to his scope, swinging it away from that distant rooftop and instead aiming toward their men’s escape route. She had not sucked the heel of that boot to find herself crushed beneath it.
* * *
Rebecca clung to Brandt as they bobbed and wove through the stopped cars. Emergency vehicles blared their horns behind them, but where could the cars go to get out of the way? Unlike the motorcycle, the autos couldn’t hop up onto the sidewalk just as Brandt was doing now, then suddenly turn in to a dry-cleaning shop. People dove out of the way, cursing in very loud Russian. Plastic whipped around them, sending sleeves and skirts into their faces.
Then they were through the store and out into another alley. Despite the rolling hillsides and thick forest, this town had been built as if someone wanted to figure out exactly how many buildings they could cram into the acreage. Stores were stacked side by side, and the alleyways were barely wide enough to get a truck through.
And Brandt had made the best of it. Darting into buildings and then coming out and slaloming through the back alleys. Each looking the same to her. Gray, dingy, faceless. Rebecca had no idea how he could tell them apart. They seemed to be heading south, though, instead of east to their rally point. Was he lost or trying to throw their pursuers off the scent of their ultimate destination?
Either way, they were running out of town to hide in. Pushchino wasn’t exactly New York or even Wasilla.
She leaned with him as they made a fast right out into a road. Unfortunately, one of the green compact Russian Jeeps had the same idea and nearly bumped them off the road. Brandt swerved, barely missing a light post and then a beat-up Yugo. Armed men leaned out from the Jeep, waving their weapons and shouting what Rebecca could only imagine was for them to stop.
When they didn’t, she didn’t doubt they would use the guns.
Rebecca wanted to keep her face buried in Brandt’s strong, wide back, but she just couldn’t. She’d rather see the bullet coming.
And she was about to get her wish as one of the soldiers leveled his gun, ready to fire. Then the Jeep jerked to the left, spinning out of control. A tire blown. The vehicle crashed into a restaurant supply store, sending pots and pans everywhere.
Had that been luck or…
She looked up to find Davidson on an adjacent roof. Her guardian angel. Well, tarnished guardian angel, but an angel nonetheless right now. This must have been why Brandt had taken them on this odd path, to bring them within Davidson’s line of sight, which meant that Brandt had given the kid a weapon.
How much things could change in such a short period of time.
* * *
Brandt let the motorcycle rip, hitting a left turn and then a fast right to get them heading east. The road ahead looked wide open. Beyond a few factory warehouses there really shouldn’t be anything or anyone out here this way. No residences. No police stations.
They should have been home free, except two men stumbled out into the road. Decked out in black ops gear, Brandt had no doubt these were some of the men who had attacked Rebecca back at the apartment. They raised their guns.
He accelerated as he pulled his own weapon, knowing it wouldn’t be in time. Then one of the men pitched forward. The other swiveled to face this new threat, just not quickly enough. He too fell to the ground.
Had Davidson repositioned that quickly? Or was Talli finally earning his keep?
Then a bullet pinged off the front wheel guard. Another off the handlebar.
Brandt didn’t have time to ponder why the fuck the opposition’s sniper had killed two of their own men, he just cut the gas, put his boot down, and turned the bike into a sharp ni
nety-degree turn, gunning the motorcycle so hard he popped it up onto its back wheel. Rebecca’s grip was so tight that she didn’t even slip back an inch.
The bike landed hard on its front tire as they rushed headlong back into the traffic jam. Their goddamned original exit strategy did not include a fucking sniper, police cars, and military patrols.
Speaking of which, a white car with a prominent blue stripe swerved around a corner. The police car must have spotted them as he turned on the flashing red and blue lights.
Brandt made another sharp right turn. He could only play a smart mouse in this tiny maze for so long. Not with three enemies creating a three-pronged noose. Rebecca’s fear beat through his back. He could feel her panic but also her faith in him. She hadn’t hesitated when he told her to fall two stories into his arms. She hadn’t hesitated getting onto the back of this junker bike.
And how was he going to repay that faith? By getting them captured by the Russians. Over what? A stupid shipping label switch-up? Maybe he should drop her off and have her try to strike out on foot? Blend in with the fleeing pedestrians?
And he might have except for the fucking sniper. He couldn’t leave her unprotected. He wouldn’t leave her, period.
The sirens were closing in though. He only had so many offensive driving tricks up his sleeve when a meat delivery truck cut in front of them. Brandt had to brake to keep from running into its dented bumper. Looked like the truck did a lot of cutting off.
Brandt was about to pass the truck when the rolling door opened and a redhead waved them forward. Harvish? The truck sped up as the point man dropped the loading ramp. The steel sparked against the pavement.
He patted Rebecca’s hands, encouraging her to hold on, although it was probably unnecessary. Squeezing down on the gas, Brandt gunned the bike up and onto the truck.
* * *
Rebecca stifled a scream as they plunged headlong into the refrigerated compartment. As they banged into the first carcass hanging from the ceiling Rebecca, to her horror, realized they were in a meat transport truck. A huge cow’s lidless eye glared at her as they slowed to a stop.
Behind them, Harvish pulled the loading ramp up.
The Betrayed Series: Ultimate Omnibus Collection Page 62
