‘Is it because of your brother?’ His lips twitched into a grin. ‘Because of what you did?’
She struggled to fill her lungs. ‘Your people did that.’
‘It doesn’t matter who laid the trap.’ He leaned over her. ‘Because you sent him right into it.’
Aviary tried to lift his knee from her chest, but he pushed all his weight into it. She strained to speak. ‘I didn’t … kill him.’
Hal clamped a hand over her mouth, pushed her head against the bedside table. ‘You know the truth. You can’t lie to yourself about this.’
She shouted, but his hand muffled her.
‘You’re disgusting.’ He inched closer and whispered, his breath sour. ‘You must hate yourself.’
His hand moved to her neck and clamped hard. She writhed under him, but there was no escape. Darkness settled over her.
She passed out.
When she opened her eyes, he wasn’t astride her. Now, he lay next to her. The lamp’s power cord wrapped around his neck. She was holding both ends of it.
Reeling back, she bumped into the bedside table. The lamp fell on her shoulder, its shade popping free. Hal coughed and opened bloodshot eyes. She smashed the lamp stem over him. He roared and clutched his arm. She swung the lamp again, catching him in the neck.
He dropped onto her, spluttering. Blood stained his teeth.
She grabbed both ends of the cord and pulled until his saliva dripped on her face, then scrambled away, across the carpet. She found his pistol. The red diode still glowed on the pistol grip.
‘You little bitch.’ Hal crawled to his knees. His neck was red. A vein rippled across his crinkled forehead.
She pressed twice into her palm and the red diode on his pistol shifted to green. She aimed the pistol. ‘Back up, cowboy.’
He growled, but raised both hands. One eye twitched.
There was a muffled thud outside, followed by another. She listened for a moment, but there were no voices, no sudden movements.
Retrieving the tablet, she peeled the sticky tape from the slide of his pistol and placed it over the tablet’s fingerprint sensor. It unlocked.
Hal’s eyes swiveled between her and the tablet. ‘Put that down this instant.’
Aviary changed his tablet’s fingerprint to her own, then disabled the remote wipe feature.
‘Need I remind you, I’m a federal officer,’ he said.
She met his stare. ‘I don’t think you’ve thought this through.’
Chapter Eight
Kaliningrad, Kaliningrad Oblast
Olesya and Ark padded through the snow toward a young Central Asian woman. She was no older than Olesya and wore a black headscarf, watching them from outside a gray, unremarkable bunker. Olesya presumed this would be their new home for a while. The bunker probably had more levels underground than above. Set into the side of a snow-coated hill on the outskirts of Kaliningrad, it was a forgotten remnant of the Soviet Union from decades past.
After a less than comfortable ride on a turboprop from Moscow, Olesya wasn’t looking forward to being thrown in with another bunch of hunters she’d never met. The young woman pressed a cigarette between her lips, its tip glowed hot.
‘New hunters?’ she asked.
‘I’m Olesya, this is Ark.’
‘And I am Marina,’ she said. ‘Welcome to the Kaliningrad Special Region.’
‘What’s special about it?’ Ark asked.
‘It’s special because you’re trapped between the Black Sea and a sea of black operatives.’ She exhaled smoke and didn’t smile. ‘That was a joke.’
‘I got it,’ Olesya said. ‘It was very funny.’
‘Good. How many more of you?’ Marina asked.
‘Commanding officer and his assistant.’ Ark gestured to Illarion and Gleb, treading through snow a short distance behind them.
Marina eyed them. ‘But how many more hunters?’
‘Just us,’ Olesya said.
‘With all the chaos the Fifth Column have been stirring up in the Middle East, I’m surprised they didn’t send you there.’ Marina inhaled more smoke. ‘That’s where they send everyone. Except us.’
‘How many hunters are posted here?’ Ark asked.
Marina’s gaze drifted from his boots to his face. ‘How many were stationed here or how many are there now? Because they have very different answers.’
Olesya could see fresh pain in Marina’s eyes. She’d lost something.
‘In the beginning, we had twelve,’ she said. ‘Now we have three.’
‘I’m sorr—’
‘You must be Marina.’ Illarion reached them, his hand extended in greeting.
‘Commander.’ Marina extinguished her cigarette and shook his hand. ‘This way, please.’
They followed her inside, where she showed Illarion and Gleb to their offices—or office, since there was only one to share. Then she led Olesya and Ark down the hall to their quarters.
‘Olesya, you’re with me.’ Marina pointed to their bedroom.
Olesya stepped inside. There was a chest of drawers with an old record player on top and a row of records held up by an ammunition box. On one side of the room there was a single bed with a long plush toy that resembled a giant fish on the bedhead.
‘Is that an anchovy?’ Olesya asked.
‘Yes,’ Marina said. ‘His name is Frank.’
On the other side of the room, there was a second bed and bedside table. The bed was made, and looked like it hadn’t been touched for a while. Another door led to a private bathroom.
Ark stood in the doorway. ‘Do we get a Frank too?’
‘No.’ Marina folded her arms. ‘Where were you transferred from?’
‘West Strategic Command, Moscow District.’
‘I see. What’s the capital like?’ Marina asked.
‘Busy.’ Olesya placed her rucksack by her new bed. ‘Where are you from?’
‘Aralsk,’ Marina said. ‘A fishing port in Kazakhstan.’
‘I was born in Belarus,’ Olesya said. ‘We’re both a long way from home then.’
‘Not really. Home is where the work is.’
Olesya didn’t agree, but nodded anyway. ‘Operatives.’
Marina frowned. ‘Your—our—commander hasn’t told you?’
‘Told us what?’ Ark asked.
‘You’re not here to hunt operatives.’
Ark blinked. ‘Uh, so what are we here for?’
‘You’re here to help us stop the uprising.’
‘Which uprising would that be exactly?’ Olesya asked.
‘You are Muscovites, after all.’ Marina sighed. ‘You don’t have a clue.’
‘I’d appreciate a hint,’ Olesya said.
‘They call themselves Purity. As we speak, their popularity expands rapidly.’ Marina looked her up and down. ‘And if there’s one thing they don’t like, it’s those with genetic … differences.’
‘So what about all the Fifth Column operatives?’ Ark asked. ‘They’re crawling across Eastern Europe and stealing our hunters. We’re just supposed to let them take what they want?’
‘Purity are doing more damage to Eastern Europe than the Fifth Column ever could,’ Marina said. ‘Fanatics, the lot of them.’
She walked around Ark, into the corridor. Standing outside another bedroom door, she knocked. A young man opened it immediately. Standing behind him, a young woman. They looked about Olesya’s age, barely in their twenties.
‘This is Andrey and Nika,’ Marina said. ‘Meet Olesya and Ark.’
Andrey gave a curt nod and ran a hand over his shaved head. He stood taller than Olesya, with straw-colored stubble that glinted across his jawline.
‘Ark, you bunk with Andrey,’ Marina said.
Nika pushed past Andrey. With amber hair and gray eyes, she was small and unassuming, yet jumped forward and shook their hands vigorously.
‘Hunters?’ she said. ‘We can use more of you.’
‘Won’t be enough.’ Andrey
spoke over Nika’s head. ‘We’re screwed either way.’
‘How many were you expecting?’ Olesya asked.
Andrey snorted. ‘None. They don’t give a shit about us. Sometimes I think they forget we’re here. And now it sounds like they’ve forgotten you.’
Ark dropped his ruck by his feet. ‘They haven’t forgotten us.’
‘Then why are you here? To stop the operatives?’ Andrey didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Of course not.’
‘We’re being brought up to speed on Purity,’ Olesya said.
‘Purity are bringing us up to speed,’ he said. ‘They took over Ukraine last month and we can’t do a damn thing about it.’
‘We are doing something about it,’ Nika said, her hand on his.
‘Sitting around here?’ Andrey asked. ‘Waiting for a bunch of modern-day Nazis to take over the world. Yeah, good plan.’
‘They’re not Nazis,’ Nika said.
‘She’s right,’ Marina said. ‘They’re much worse.’
‘But now that we have more hunters and a new commander,’ Nika said, ‘maybe we can do something about it.’
‘What happened to your old commander?’ Olesya asked.
‘Discharged,’ Andrey said quickly.
‘They took my best friend too,’ Marina said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Olesya said.
Marina crossed her arms. ‘Do you Muscovites know what it’s like to lose your best friend?’
‘They took my sister,’ Ark said.
Marina gave a sincere nod. ‘And what have you lost in this war, Olesya?’
‘Everyone.’
Chapter Nine
Las Vegas, United States
Dressed as US Marines, Damien and Nasira stepped into the elevator at the MGM Grand Hotel & Casino, which was now a USMC operational base. Damien stood in the corner while Nasira hit the button for Level 26.
Jay was their getaway driver, mostly because Nasira didn’t want him in harm’s way. Jay didn’t listen to Damien much but he listened to her. And she was right—Jay could barely breathe and walk at the same time. He was in no shape to be helping them spring someone from a fortified military operating base.
The doors slid shut, then stopped as a hand slipped between them.
Damien went for the USMC-made pistol in his holster.
The doors parted and a suited man joined them. He was tall and slender, with a weathered face and graying hairline. Under his arm, his jacket bulged slightly. He gave Damien and Nasira a polite smile before making a comment.
‘There’s nothing worse than missing an opportunity,’ he said.
Damien smiled, but decided to say nothing. The less, the better.
The man turned to the gold panel near the doors and selected his floor. But Damien had already pressed it. The man withdrew his finger and straightened himself.
‘Now there’s quite the coincidence,’ he said. ‘Saves me the trouble.’
The elevator doors finally closed.
Level 6.
The suited man’s hands, curled into fists with his thumb on the outside, an involuntary action that suggested a military background. Damien wondered what role the man filled now.
Level 11.
‘Half the city on high alert and marines every which way. But folks are still out there, playing the darn slot machines.’ The man shook his head. ‘Sometimes I get to thinking we don’t deserve the lives we’re given.’
Level 17.
‘Life used to be so precious,’ he said. ‘Now everyone thinks they can live forever. That they’re born to be stars.’ He adjusted his tie. ‘That we all have a great destiny waiting for us. We used to look down upon that kind of delusion.’ He looked over his shoulder at Damien. ‘Do you know what it is now?’
Damien shrugged.
‘Heck, now it’s a God-given virtue.’
Level 23.
In the gold panel, Damien watched the warped reflection of the man’s face. It seemed to shift. Damien tensed, ready to block the man’s draw.
‘There’s no lessons anymore, no consequence,’ the man said. ‘Just one big spear of destiny. You hear what I’m saying?’
Damien struggled for words, but Nasira was quicker off the mark.
‘There’s always consequence,’ she said.
‘Exactly.’ The man gave them a second glance, lingering on Damien. ‘You know, you look a mite familiar.’
‘You must be thinking of someone else,’ Damien said.
Hurry up, you piece-of-shit elevator.
Level 26.
The doors opened, but the man didn’t budge, blocking their exit. He stepped to one side and extended a hand.
‘After you,’ he said. ‘Your service to our nation is appreciated.’
Damien’s heart was pounding. Nasira thanked the suited man and stepped out. Damien followed. Nasira checked the numbers in the elevator lobby. She was quicker than he was to orient herself, which he wanted to put down to her enhanced navigational abilities—magnetoception—but she was probably just paying more attention.
Nasira led the way. They walked in tandem across the carpeted floor, through to the north tower. The corridor continued in a straight line, so far into the distance that it seemed endless. Damien followed her lead. She checked the hotel room numbers while he kept his attention on the suited man who walked a short distance behind them.
Ahead, there were six marines carrying carbines and pacing the same area of corridor.
Guarding.
Damien gave one of the marines a nod. He didn’t return it, and the others just tracked them with their eyes. Nasira kept him on course. They passed more hotel room doors on both sides. Damien still couldn’t see the end of the corridor. The walls, ceiling and floor simply converged into a distant point ahead.
With his enhanced hearing, he listened as behind them the suited man identified himself to the marines.
‘Hal Claycomb, NCS.’
An element of the CIA.
Someone swiped an access card and he heard Hal step inside. The door closed behind him.
‘NCS,’ Damien said under his breath.
Nasira kept walking. ‘My ass he is.’
Denton often used an NCS identity while operating in the United States, and sometimes in allied countries. And Denton wouldn’t be the only one. A fresh surge of epinephrine prickled Damien’s fingers. His phone told him that Aviary’s location matched the room the marines were guarding.
‘I think Hal Claycomb is here to see Aviary,’ he said.
‘He could be here for any of those resistance people,’ Nasira said. ‘Maybe a leader. We don’t know it’s Aviary yet.’
‘We need to stop him,’ Damien growled under his breath.
‘From what?’ she asked. ‘Talking to her?’
‘Taking her,’ Damien said. ‘If he leaves this building with her, we lose her for good.’
‘Here’s how we roll,’ Nasira said. ‘We walk out of sight and then we double back. If the marines are still chilling, we keep walking. We don’t grab her until she’s out of the room. You got that?’
‘They’ll escort her.’
Nasira matched his stride. ‘Better still.’
They walked for a moment longer, then spun and started back the way they’d come. A pair of marines walked inside the room.
‘Faster,’ Damien said. ‘That isn’t looking good.’
‘You’re getting reckless, just like Jay,’ Nasira said.
‘Sorry, I’m just anxious.’
‘Not saying it’s a bad thing,’ she said. ‘But if we take them, we take them on my cue.’
‘What’s your cue?’
She moved faster. ‘When you hear a bone break.’
They drew level with the marines.
‘Wrong floor?’ one of them asked.
Damien paused in front of the correct room. ‘Is this level twenty-six?’
‘That’s us,’ the marine said.
Another intervened, a hand outstretched. ‘Sorry
dude, we gotta keep this area clear. We have a job to do.’
‘Yeah,’ Nasira said, ‘me too.’ And broke his wrist.
That would be my cue, Damien thought.
He launched for the marine behind him, grasped the barrel of her gun and twisted it up, tangling her trigger finger. The scope broke her nose, blood spattering the door of the room.
He kicked her legs out and took her carbine. They all had weapon retention systems—programmed to fire only with the owner’s fingerprint—so he couldn’t fire it, but he could use it for other things. Like hitting her with it.
He whipped the stock of the carbine into the marine’s nose, then stepped behind her, carbine rail under her neck, keeping her between himself and the third marine, who was lining up a shot on him.
Nasira twisted the carbine over and out of his grasp, whipped it back so the butt caught him on the chin. The marine stumbled against the wall, and Nasira brought the end of the carbine down, cracking it over his kneecap, then slamming it into his groin. He folded in on himself.
Damien took the access card from the marine’s pocket and gave it to Nasira, then together they bound the marines with their own plasticuffs. One of them stirred, and Nasira banged his head against the wall, hard enough to knock him out.
‘Let’s roll,’ she said.
Chapter Ten
Berlin, Germany
In the dead of the night, the Nightcrawler was a gray oppressive block that could have passed for a disused Ministry of Defense building. The bass from the nightclub’s music pulsed toward nearby factories and graffiti etched walls.
Sophia killed the engine and stepped out onto gravel. ‘Do we have their faces yet?’
Ieva climbed from the car, her breath visible under the street lights. ‘One of them, yes. But the other two … all I can find are photos of them as kids.’ She nodded in the direction of the Nightcrawler. ‘All three of them are outside.’
They were somewhere among the long line of hopeful patrons in shimmering dresses and vests, wrapped in winter coats. The line was carefully funneled between temporary wire fences weighted with cinder blocks.
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