“You guys all right?” Quinn asked Daeng.
Daeng snorted. “No one came near us. Could have taken a nap if I wanted to.”
“What’s going on with Brunner?” Kincaid asked.
“You could ask Danara yourself, you know,” Nate said.
“I tried, but I don’t think she’s talking to me.”
“I have no interest in speaking directly with Mr. Kincaid,” Danara said. “He’s the one who let Dr. Brunner be kidnapped.”
“Hey! I didn’t let—”
Quinn cut Kincaid off with a hard glance, then said, “Mr. Kincaid did everything he could to stop the kidnapping, including getting shot. And his sole focus ever since has been on rescuing the doctor. You need to look at all the factors before judging people.”
Danara did not apologize, but after a few seconds she did say, “Dr. Brunner, Jar, and Orlando are climbing up to the vent now.”
“Thank God,” Kincaid said.
“They are being followed, though.”
Nate tensed. “Do they need help?”
“You would never be able to get there in time.”
“Who’s following them?” Quinn asked.
“Krylov and Snetkov.”
“Are they going to catch them?”
“Unclear. I am hopeful they won’t.”
“Hopeful?” Nate said.
“Let’s move it,” Quinn said, and headed for the secret door to the tunnel. “We may not be able to help them down here but can up top.”
Grigory spotted a pile of junk in the middle of the corridor ahead. It went almost all the way to the ceiling. Why it was there, he had no idea. He only knew it was blocking his view of the doctor and the two people helping him.
He narrowed his eyes.
There was movement on the pile. Little things, on either side, like rats or mice or— “Shit.”
Hands.
Brunner and his intruder friends were climbing the stack on the far side. It took only a second for Grigory to see why. Above the pile was a hole in the ceiling.
He had run only a few more steps when the person at the top reached up and pulled into the hole. The second person moved into position to do the same. From the shape of the body, Grigory was sure it was Brunner.
As the scientist lifted a hand toward the ceiling, Grigory shouted in German, “Halt!”
Orlando put her hand on Brunner’s calf, to help keep his foot in place.
“Reach up and press against the sides, then pull yourself in,” Jar called down from inside the vent.
“I-I do not think I can,” he said.
“Stop thinking about it at all,” Orlando said. “Start with one hand and use it to steady yourself.”
Brunner looked down at her, fear in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” she said, giving his calf a reassuring squeeze. “Just do it.”
He took a breath, then reached for the vent.
“Halt!”
The shout echoed down the hallway.
As Orlando looked to see where it had come from, she felt Brunner shift and heard him say, “Oh, no!”
She glanced up. One of his feet had come off the tower, and his other was threatening to do the same. The only reason he hadn’t fallen was that Jar, hanging upside down in the vent, had a hold of his hand. But if he lost his footing completely, she wouldn’t be able to hold his full weight, and both would plummet to the ground.
Orlando grabbed his wayward leg, guided it back to the tower, and put a hand on his ass until she was certain he wasn’t going to fall.
“You’re okay,” she said. “But you need to keep going.”
He took a deep breath before reaching up to the vent with his other hand.
Orlando looked back down the hall.
The male kidnapper, Krylov, was running toward them.
She retrieved her gun, aimed it in his direction, and pulled the trigger twice. Unfortunately, Brunner’s movements had caused the tower to sway, making her shots miss their target by centimeters.
Krylov dove to his left, behind a pile of crates. Orlando sent a warning shot into one of the boxes and kept her gun trained on them in case he returned fire.
“How you doing up there?” she asked, without looking up.
“He is in. Give us a moment to make some room and you can come.”
“No. Take him all the way up to the horizontal section. Once you’re clear, then I’ll come in.”
“Okay.”
Her eyes still on Krylov’s hiding place, Orlando listened as Jar and Brunner moved up the vent. She was surprised the kidnapper hadn’t tried anything yet. Perhaps he was worried about hitting Brunner, like her team had been at the airfield in Slovakia.
“Clear,” Jar called down.
Orlando scaled to the top of the tower, still watching Krylov’s hiding spot. When she was ready to go up, she sent three more bullets into the crates to remind him not to move, then pulled herself into the vent.
This was the most dangerous part, and the reason she’d ordered Jar and Brunner to climb out of the vertical section first. If Krylov realized no one was left to shoot at him, he could get beneath the vent, fire up into it, and easily hit whoever was there.
Orlando scaled the shaft quickly, all the while expecting the boom of a gun. When she reached the top, she flopped into the horizontal section and yanked her legs out of the shaft.
They were in the clear. Not only could Krylov not shoot at them, he couldn’t come after them, either, because there was no way he could fit in the vent.
“Okay, Jar,” Orlando said. “Get us out of here.”
The only weapon Grigory had was the watch, and even that could do nothing more now than deliver a pinprick. If any toxin was left on the needle, it was likely not enough to do more than make someone sick.
He was so damn close.
Brunner was right there, no more than ten meters away in that stupid vent.
But there was nothing Grigory could do while the woman had him pinned down.
Three more bullets ripped into the boxes he was hiding behind. He curled into himself, thankful that the boxes’ contents seemed enough to keep the shots from reaching him.
He heard the thunks of something banging against metal, but waited several more seconds before he took a peek.
The woman was gone, the tower deserted.
He rushed over to the pile and swung around it until he found a spot from which he could see into the vent. But the light from the corridor illuminated only so far, and no one was in the visible section.
Worse yet, climbing the tower would be impossible. He’d never be able to squeeze into the vent.
“Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit.”
He could feel the piles of cash draining out of his future bank account.
He thought for a moment. Wherever this led, it would come out in the desert with nothing around it. Unless Brunner’s helpers had a car parked nearby—a distinct possibility—they would have to walk to where they were going. And even if there was a car, he guessed the vent wasn’t large enough for them to stand in, so they would have to crawl out to get to their vehicle. Which would take time.
Using the base’s main entrance would be a simple thirty-second elevator ride. And he could take one of the security dirt bikes from the hangar and ride it out to the general area where they would surface.
With his dream not yet dead, he ran back down the tunnel.
Tiana instantly recognized the muffled spits as sound-suppressed gunfire and scooted behind the nearest stack of boxes.
She had no idea where the shots had come from, until she sneaked a glance down the corridor and spotted two legs lifting into the ceiling, above a stack of boxes and other stuff in the middle of the hall.
Brunner’s legs? The intruders’?
She pushed the question of who they belonged to out of her mind. It didn’t matter anymore. Future Planning was dead. It had ended when the general took his last breath, despite his request for her to c
arry on his mission.
Her focus was only on balancing the scales. And though she knew Grigory’s death wouldn’t set everything right, at least it would allow her to occasionally sleep at night.
Down the hall, she saw Grigory crawl out of his hidey-hole and approach the pile of junk. She used the opportunity to move up to the hidden spot he had just vacated.
When he started to move around the pile, she ducked behind the boxes.
She looked at her gun. How may bullets did she have left? Two? Three? None? She couldn’t check the magazine without him hearing, so she hoped she’d stopped her earlier shooting spree in time.
She’d wait until she heard him step back around to her side of the stack, and then she’d do it and be done with him. She calmed her breathing, wanting her hands to be as steady as a rock.
Any second now.
A step, a bit louder than the last.
Any second.
When she heard his next step, she jumped up and aimed at the spot where he should be. Only he wasn’t there. Instead of walking back around the pile, Grigory was running and almost parallel with her.
She swung her arms to her left to adjust her aim.
What the hell?
Grigory had known Tiana was following him, but he’d thought he’d lost her when he discovered Brunner had gone south. Now she popped up only a couple of meters away, and was whipping her gun toward him.
Pivoting off his right foot, he flew at her.
The gun went off at the same moment he smashed into her. They flew backward into a crate, the box partially collapsing under their weight.
Tiana tried to maneuver the pistol under him to shoot him point-blank, but he grabbed her wrist and hammered it against the crate.
With a yell of frustration, she pushed him with her other hand, trying to get him off her, but he was having none of it.
“Drop it!” he yelled as he shoved her hand into the box again.
Her knuckles had begun to bleed, but she refused to let go.
He shot his knee into her ribs but she anticipated it, and used the fact that the blow had unbalanced him to push him away.
He rolled sideways onto her arm that held the gun. As she tried to yank her hand free, he grabbed her bicep and held it in place, knowing that if he let go, he’d be dead.
She punched him with quick, powerful jabs into his shoulder, his ribs, and his face.
He had no choice but to release one hand from her arm to fight back. After fending off another swing, he slammed his forearm into her cheek.
They rolled onto the floor, each fighting for control of the weapon.
Boom!
Grigory blinked, then realized he was no longer touching the weapon. He was sure his life was over, and that when the gun boomed again, it would be the last sound he’d ever hear.
But then he saw the gun lying on the concrete, centimeters from Tiana’s unmoving hand.
The bullet had entered her torso just below where her heart should be. Her eyes were open, her gaze confused.
He picked up the gun, slipped it into the holster he was still wearing, and stood up.
“Nesterov is dead,” he said. “All you had to do was let me go. Your death is on you.”
She looked at him, some semblance of the anger he’d seen returning to her face. But when she opened her mouth to speak, the only thing that passed her lips was blood.
“Goodbye, Tiana. I’d stay, but I’ve got things to do.”
As he started running again, the top of his left shoulder stung. Without slowing, he reached over and discovered a shallow groove right above his clavicle.
The first shot when he’d rushed her had nicked him. Any lower and Tiana would have been the one still breathing.
Today was indeed turning out to be his lucky day.
Now all he had to do was find Brunner and it would become his luckiest ever.
Chapter Forty
Orlando, Jar, and Brunner reached the vertical shaft that led to the grating at the surface.
“I’ll open the grating,” Orlando said. “Once I have it secured, you can use the rope to climb up.”
Panting and drenched in sweat, Brunner said, “I do not think I have the strength.”
“You will,” Jar reassured him. “And if you start to fall, I will catch you.”
The area was wide enough for Orlando to squeeze by them and get to the front of the line. There, she grabbed the rope and pulled herself up the shaft.
While she wasn’t expecting anyone from the base to be waiting for them, she still felt a measure of relief upon sticking her head above the vent entrance and seeing that the area under the rocks was clear. She climbed out, undid the rope, and retied it to one of the vent cover’s hinges. That way, when Brunner and Jar pulled on it, they wouldn’t accidentally close the hatch again.
“All right,” she said. “Line’s secured.”
Brunner did better than he’d expected. It helped that this was the narrowest vent of all, and he could have basically worked his way up whether the rope had been there or not. Orlando grabbed his hand as he neared the top and helped him crawl out.
Jar climbed out a moment later.
“Everyone good?” Orlando asked.
An exhausted-looking Brunner nodded.
“Yes,” Jar said.
“Great.” Orlando checked that her comm mic was on, and said, “Orlando for Quinn.”
Quinn reached the exit under Lonely Rock first and shoved the hatch out of the way.
Not waiting for the other three to exit behind him, he sprinted across the desert toward the Land Cruiser. While he kept the rock formation between himself and the base, he took no other precautions. Speed was more important now than stealth.
Within seconds, he heard the others pounding the dirt behind him.
Nate outsprinted him and was already in the front passenger seat when Quinn climbed behind the wheel. As soon as Daeng and Kincaid were in the back, Quinn started the engine and hit the gas.
As much as he wanted to floor it, he kept their speed in check so that he wouldn’t disable the vehicle. He might have been able to shave a few minutes off their travel time by driving through the valley, but that would have meant passing near the base. Better not to tempt fate. So he drove along the rim, just behind the ring of rocks.
Soon, the Range Rover came into view, unmoved from where they’d left it earlier.
“Orlando for Quinn.”
Quinn flipped on his comm. “Go for Quinn.”
“We just exited the vent. Are you outside yet?”
“Yeah. We’re on our way to you. Should be there in less than ten minutes. Stay hidden until you hear us drive up.”
“Copy.”
“How’s Brunner?”
“Tired, but otherwise okay.”
“And Jar?”
“Jar is Jar.”
“Copy.”
When Quinn’s SUV reached the Range Rover, he turned toward an opening in the rocks wide enough to allow the Land Cruiser to pass into the valley. From there, it would be a straight shot to the rocks covering the vent.
Grigory passed several patrols as he ran toward the main exit.
A few of the soldiers gave him odd looks, no doubt wondering why the top of his shirt was soaked in blood, but no one said anything. As far as they knew, he was still a member of the organization. In fact, there was no one alive who could dispute that now.
Which, in turn, meant he was now the highest-ranking officer at the base. Technically, he was in charge of Lonely Rock.
Sadly, it was a job he would have to refuse. He had bigger plans that involved sitting on a beach for the rest of his life.
A squad of four men were stationed in front of the elevator entrance, each armed with a rifle.
“I’m sorry, sir,” one of the men said. “The base is on lockdown until we find the intruders.”
“I’m here on special orders from General Nesterov,” Grigory told him. “I’m to go topside and find out ho
w the intruders got in and if there is anyone waiting for them.”
The men exchanged looks, then the one who’d spoken said, “I…can’t let you leave, sir. I have my orders.”
“And I have mine. Perhaps we should call the general? I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know that you feel the need to defy him.”
“Um…perhaps I should call my supervisor.”
“Make it fast.”
As the man moved to the phone on the wall, Grigory eyed the other guards, and quickly determined none would be a challenge in a fight. If one did start, he’d go for the nervous-looking guy on the left first. It would take no more than a second or two to gain control of the man’s gun, and then a couple more to take the others out.
Over at the phone, the guard had gone white as a sheet. “What?...Are-are you sure?...Then what should I—”
Grigory tensed, ready to make his move.
“All right…yes, sir,” the guard said, then hung up and looked at Grigory. “The general is dead.”
Grigory made a split-second decision. Instead of grabbing the other guard’s rifle, he donned an incredulous expression and said, “Dead? That’s not possible. I talked to him no more than fifteen minutes ago.”
“I thought you just received instructions from him to go to the surface.”
“I did. Commander Snetkov relayed them to me.”
The guard looked uncomfortable. “No one knows where she is, sir.”
“She’s disappeared?” Grigory paused, pretending to think things through. Then he opened his eyes wide, and said as if to himself, “It’s not possible, is it? She couldn’t have.”
“Couldn’t have what, sir?” the guard said. Then his eyes also widened. “You don’t think she killed the general, do you?”
Grigory’s eyes locked on to the guard’s. “We can’t know that until we find her.” He paused again. “I need to go up. If she’s missing, maybe she’s escaping with the intruders. I need to find them. Tell Control to gather a squad and have them wait here. I’ll call down if I need them to come up.”
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