Skills to Kill

by Brian Drake

  Dane and Nina sat beside each other on one side of the table, and on the other sat Savelev and Poppy. At either end sat the Duchess and Sean McFadden. Light music played through hidden speakers. The dining room had light-paneled walls and carpeting; a bright chandelier, jeweled and sparkling, hung from above.

  The Duchess sipped a glass of red wine, and for the first time Dane saw the bulged knuckles of her right hand.

  His eyes lingered a little too long.

  The Duchess set down her glass. “They’re the one deformity I have, Mr. Dane. But I wasn’t born with them.”

  “I didn’t mean to stare.”

  “I’m not offended.” She held up the hand. “This hand was slammed in a drawer by one of my early employers who did it to teach me a lesson. I’d botched a job. A simple one, they told me. Like a lot of things, it turned complicated very quickly and my employers did not understand the choices I had to make.”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “I waited until my hand healed and then struck back. He should have expected it, but he thought I was just a silly bitch. I poisoned his coffee one morning and he died, let’s just say, horribly. Then I took over the organization, and that’s how the Duchess was born.”

  “How long have you been in business? We never heard of you until recently.”

  Dane spoke the words carefully as he ate, marveling that she wore no glove to cover her hand.

  “Two or three years,” she said. “We always managed to stay under the radar until we tried selling equipment to al-Qaeda. Then we got noticed.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “I’ve never heard of you either, Mr. Dane.”

  Was that true?

  “Nina and I are still under the radar.”

  The Duchess laughed. Savelev jumped in. “I for one am glad he and Nina turned up when they did.”

  “How does it feel to work with Alek again, Miss Talikova?”

  “Just like the old days,” Nina said.

  The conversation continued but Dane tuned it out. He ate quickly, hungrier than he realized. He wiped his mouth and glanced down the table at Sean McFadden. The Irishman raised his glass Dane’s way and drank down the wine.

  “Mr. Dane,” the Duchess said, “I suppose we should talk business. You have something I want to buy, but I don’t intend to pay too much.”

  “Of course not.”

  “What is your lowest price?”

  “Two million American.”

  “No.”

  “I don’t intend to take a loss. It took a lot to get my hands on the M5205 and there are still people I need to pay.”

  “I won’t give you two million.”

  “I can’t sell it for less, and there are people who will pay much more.”

  “But you’re here with me. You’re on my property. Nobody saw you arrive. Nobody will see you leave.”

  “If you think that’s true, you’re very naive, ma’am.”

  Savelev dropped his fork. It clanged on his plate.

  The Duchess pushed her plate aside, put her elbows on the table and rested her hand on her entwined fingers.

  “So,” she said, “it looks like we won’t make a deal after all.”

  “Sure. You don’t have to buy it. Sleep on it,” Dane said.

  “How long will it take to get the item here?”

  “It’s already in Helsinki. I just need to make a call.”

  “Okay. You have a deal. Tomorrow morning. After breakfast.”

  Dane and Nina returned to their room, and Dane took a cigar from his travel case. As he clipped the end, somebody knocked on the door.

  “Again?” he said. He lit the stogie. Nina answered the door.

  Poppy August stood in the hallway. “May I?”

  “Sure,” Nina said. She let the younger woman in. “Go smoke outside, Steve.”

  Dane nodded and went out. Nina shut the door behind him but did not throw the lock. He wandered down the hall, turned right, and found a doorway leading to an outside walkway that stretched along the length of the mansion. He leaned on the flat top of the stone wall. The water, black as night, whispered with the wind. Helsinki winked in the distance.

  What did Poppy want this time? Had Savelev told her something?

  Dane put the questions out of his mind and smoked.

  Footsteps behind him.

  He exhaled smoke and turned around.

  Sean McFadden stood at the corner holding a gun. “Hello.”

  Dane said, “I wondered when you’d show up.” He glanced at the pistol. Compact, stainless steel—his own gun. The Detonics Combat Master that Sean had appropriated from him in Paris. McFadden held the gun at his side.

  McFadden joined Dane at the wall and placed the gun between them.

  “Enjoy dinner?”

  “What did you tell her, Sean?”

  “Nothing yet. She asked me to check you out, so I suppose I have until tomorrow. You’ve put me in a bloody tough spot.”

  “I was right then.”

  “About what?”

  “If you meant to do me in you’d have said something. You’d have killed me in Greece instead of making an anonymous call for help.”

  “I saved your life, so now you owe me one. Get out of here.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “So we’re going to keep playing this game. You can’t win. It’s just the two of you. The Duchess has twenty men here. It doesn’t matter where you hide or if you use one of the boats to escape.”

  Dane smoked his cigar.

  “I always admired your confidence,” McFadden said. “You could look a starving lion in the eye and shrug it off. You always delivered on that. I also saw you blink once or twice. How much of that confidence is an act?”

  Dane smiled and smoked his cigar.

  “I don’t want to kill you,” McFadden said. “There’s a bond between us whether I want to admit it or not. I also have my client to think about. You know how it is.”

  “You’re all heart.”

  “The boats are fully fueled. Nobody will notice if you decide to leave in the middle of the night.”

  Dane puffed on his cigar.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “I’m not leaving, Sean.”

  McFadden inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fine. There’s your gun. It’s nice but not my style. I guess you’re going to need it.”

  “I guess.”

  “You have until daylight.”

  “I got it.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “Come with us.”

  “That again?”

  “Last chance.”

  “Same to you. Be gone by daybreak or else.”

  McFadden turned and walked away. Dane smoked and regarded the pistol his former compatriot had left behind. He jammed the gun in his waistband and finished his cigar and rejoined Nina.

  She said, “She wanted to know how long till we busted out of here. Alek is pushing for them to run off together.”

  Dane ignored the update and told her of his exchange with McFadden. While he spoke, he disassembled the Combat Master and confirmed that it had not been tampered with. He charged the magazine with fresh ammunition.

  “How long before McConn gets here?” she said.

  “I don’t know.” Dane hauled out the carrying case that contained his other pistol and checked it. He slung the larger Detonics under his right arm and its compact cousin behind his back.

  Dane cracked open the window and listened. No sign of any choppers. No other noises disturbed the night. Movement in the courtyard caught his attention. Two figures moved toward the door of a bungalow detached from the main building. The Duchess and Alek Savelev. They spoke for a few minutes, and then Savelev turned and walked away while the Duchess entered the bungalow and closed the door. Lights snapped on inside.

  Dane looked over at Nina, who was checking her own gun and loading spare magazines. He watched as her thin fingers pushed the rounds into each c
lip.

  “We’ll wait three hours,” he said, “then you grab Poppy and make for the boats. I’ll join you if I can.”

  “What do you mean if?”

  “I can’t have Sean nipping at my heels. One way or another it ends here. Tonight.”

  26

  More Than a Little Help

  Nina snored on the bed while Dane sat beneath the still-open window, his legs out in front of him. Only the night sounds reached his ears, the rustle of trees in the 1 a.m. breeze and the lapping of the water beyond.

  He knew McFadden’s strengths and weaknesses better than anybody; McFadden knew his. But this would not be an even match. Sean would have, if he’d been telling the truth, plenty of men behind him.

  None of those troops were in evidence, other than the two guards they’d seen, but that did not mean they were figments of the Irishman’s imagination. It was a large property.

  Dane’s phone beeped.

  He looked at the display and sat up.

  Coming in with three Blackhawks fully loaded.

  Dane woke Nina. As she wiped sleep from her eyes, a Klaxon horn began to blare.

  So much for surprise.

  Dane and Nina raced out to the walkway. The Klaxon continued to wail. Automatic weapons fire crackled. The shots joined the roaring rotor blades of Blackhawks above. Dane couldn’t hear his own footsteps.

  Dane drew the Scoremaster and told Nina, “Get Poppy,” before he leapt over the wall and dropped to the courtyard below. His feet smacked the ground, and he winced as jolts of fire flashed up his legs. He ran for the bungalow, stumbled a little, but corrected his stride halfway across the courtyard. Lights came on inside the bungalow. Dane kicked open the door, which slammed against the opposing wall and started to swing back. Dane put out his free hand to block the door while raising the .45. The Duchess, armed with a pistol, hesitated to fire at him; when bullets tore chunks out of the doorframe, spitting bits of wood at Dane’s face, he turned, dropping into a crouch, and fired back at McFadden as his former ally dashed for cover. Dane pivoted back to face the Duchess, blasting at her as she made a run for sliding glass doors. The Detonics locked open. She fired twice in return and slipped out.

  Dane reloaded and turned around again as Sean broke cover. Dane raised his gun.

  “You can’t win, Dane!”

  “Seems I have a little help!”

  A new voice added: “More than a little!”

  Dane and McFadden watched Nina and Poppy approach, both aiming at McFadden. Sean looked at Dane and grinned.

  “Now’s your chance to get away, Sean.”

  “Dane, you just don’t get it.”

  Another figure arrived. Savelev. “Where’s Angelica? What’s going on?”

  “Why don’t you have a gun, Alek?”

  “Sean, what—” Alek took in the standoff with quick and nervous glances. He indeed had no gun. McFadden took out his spare and tossed it at him. Savelev caught the pistol clumsily. “Who do I point it at?”

  “All three,” McFadden said. “They’ve been playing you the whole time.”

  Savelev turned shocked eyes on Nina and Poppy. “Poppy.”

  “I’m not going away with you,” the redhead said.

  Savelev turned the gun on Poppy but Nina fired first, stitching three rounds across the Russian’s chest. As he fell, a chopper roared overhead with a fiery contrail zeroing in on its backside. The missile struck and the Blackhawk exploded, the fireball lighting up the night, and the flaming hulk of the remains smashed through the main building with a thunderous crash. The ground shook. More searing flames erupted, driving everybody in the courtyard to cover.

  Nina and Poppy regrouped with Dane as Sean bolted for the southern point of the island. For the boats tied there.

  Dane eyed the wreckage in the burning building and wondered who had been aboard. The heat was too much, singeing his skin, and it could not have been any better for the two women.

  “Come on.”

  He hustled in the direction McFadden had gone, herding Nina and Poppy before him. “Head for the boats.”

  Not only was it a chance to catch McFadden and maybe the Duchess, but the route would lead them away from the rest of the fighting.

  The remaining Blackhawks continued passing overhead; commandos in black, like falling spiders, zip-lined to the ground. Automatic weapons fire punctuated by explosions continued at a rapid pace. Dane, Nina and Poppy followed a sloping stone path. It ended abruptly ahead, and a black nothingness took its place. Had Dane not known better, it would have been a frightening sight. The end of the earth. The glow of the fire behind them lit the way, and Dane, gun in hand, scanned the flickering and shifting shadows for any threat. Low tree branches whipped his face. He bent his body to avoid them. Nina bolted right, Poppy following, as he led them off the path and onto the jetty where the boats waited.

  The first slip was empty, the mooring lines floating on the water’s surface. Poppy jumped into the next boat and stood waiting while Nina raced to the driver’s seat. Dane untied the ropes. The boat started to drift from the jetty. Dane leapt aboard, rocking the boat as his shoes slammed onto the bottom, Poppy grabbing for a grip. Nina fired up the engine. Pushing the throttle forward, she steered away from the island and into the dark abyss.

  Nina said, “How far to Helsinki?”

  “I don’t know, but they’ll be going flat out so—”

  Poppy shouted, “Steve, behind us!”

  Dane left Nina’s side and rejoined Poppy at the stern. The other boat, closing fast, moved in a zigzag that, along with the choppy water, made it a horrible target. But it wouldn’t help McFadden either, who sat at the bow with an assault rifle while the Duchess steered.

  “Punch it!” Dane shouted. Nina increased the throttle.

  Poppy steadied the little Glock in both hands and started firing. Dane fired the .45, trying to match the shots with the zigzagging boat. The Duchess straightened her course as they came within range, and McFadden opened up with the automatic rifle.

  The flashing muzzle spat a salvo, and the slugs cut through the air. Dane returned fire as McFadden corrected his aim. His next blast strafed one side of the boat. Dane and Poppy fired again and again.

  The other boat dropped back. Poppy kept shooting, but Dane told her to save her ammo. The big Detonics was empty, and Dane used the lull to slap in another magazine. His last. After this he’d need his backup, and he had only one spare for that.

  The Duchess swung wide across the gulf, and Dane squatted down and told Poppy to get low too. The Duchess steered back toward them, cutting across their wake, McFadden firing two quick bursts.

  Nina yelped. Dane looked back. One of the slugs had struck her console, but she wasn’t hurt. Poppy fired twice as the Duchess closed in, and McFadden’s rifle spat more fire. The slugs came nowhere near.

  This was getting them nowhere. Dane glanced at a passing island and told Nina to turn for it. She cut across the water and slowed as she stopped perpendicular to the island in a muddy cove. Nina jumped out first, splashing across the shallow water. Dane grabbed Poppy’s arm and yanked her out.

  The Duchess and McFadden closed in, and McFadden let a long burst go. The rounds smacked into the earth and foliage. Poppy screamed as she fell forward, Dane losing his grip. Her right foot was stuck in the wet mud. She hauled her foot out, minus the shoe, and started running again. McFadden took aim and fired. The rounds struck Poppy with a wet slap, and she fell again. This time she did not get up.

  Dane fired back as McFadden and the Duchess exited the boat. McFadden sprayed covering fire while the Duchess dove into the foliage. She apparently had no weapon, but wore something across her chest. A satchel. What was inside?

  “Come on, Steve!”

  With a grunt he followed Nina, and they ventured deeper inland.

  They had the advantage and disadvantage of the cloudy night and the terrain. The moon was bright but hardly illuminated the battleground. Dane and Nina, separated
now, hid amongst the foliage. Dane counted four rounds left in the Scoremaster, so he set it aside and took out his backup gun. He moved carefully so as not to disturb the brush around him.

  His eyes adjusted to the dark, but the odd shapes of trees and plant life and their blending shadows made it hard to make out any intruding forms. McFadden could work the environment to his advantage; could the Duchess?

  Dane didn’t look directly at anything but allowed his more sensitive peripheral vision to pick out the odd ducks in the foliage. Something crawled across his left hand. The insects were as unused to him as he was to them, but at least they weren’t carrying automatic weapons.

  An explosion lit the darkness, shaking the ground beneath him, the blinding flash stinging his eyes. To the right of his position. Maybe 30 yards away. Bits of shrapnel cut through leaves and peppered the ground around him. A blast of automatic fire followed. McFadden and the Duchess had no idea where he and Nina were hiding, but now he knew they also had grenades. That’s what was in the Duchess’ satchel! They were trying to smoke them out. Dane didn’t move. The worst thing he could do was break cover. The only thing he could do was keep his eyes open and his trigger finger ready.

  Another explosion and another blast of automatic weapons fire. Twenty yards. No shrapnel this time. Closer but Dane still did not move. He let his eyes do the hunting. If they were closer they were moving, and if they were moving they would show themselves. McFadden had always been an anxious fighter. The lack of feedback from the grenade blasts would lull him into a false sense of security. It had happened before, more than once. Dane didn’t think he’d learned to take things slowly in the time they had been apart.

  He heard the next grenade sail overhead, nicking branches as it flew; he buried his face in the wet dirt. The blast came from behind. The heat of the flames burned his neck. Sharp bits of metal tugged at his clothing. Closer. Dane looked up and around and spotted a human figure rising from a crouch. The figure was joined by another, and the pair stepped around the natural obstacles. The figure in front pointed a weapon off to Dane’s right and fired a short burst.

  Two quick replies from Nina’s S&W answered the burst, but neither target fell. The masculine of the two forms fired a longer burst in return, while the feminine figure pulled the pin on another grenade. Now! Dane fired four rounds in quick succession. The figure with the raised arm fell. The other screamed. Dane shut his eyes and buried his face in the ground. The grenade detonated, and the explosion might as well have shaken the world’s foundation.