by Alex Archer
But another problem troubled him.
“Sequeira knows where Annja Creed is?”
“He does. He is going there now.” The monk gave Rao the name of the hotel, which Rao relayed to the cab driver.
“How far away is Sequeira?” Rao asked.
“We do not know.”
The anxiousness that had lifted returned with a vengeance. Judging from the violence Sequeira had unleashed at the Seventh-Kilometer Market, Sequeira was no longer interested in taking Annja Creed alive. The Portuguese crime lord only wanted the elephant, and no one knew for certain how much he knew about its history or where it would lead.
“We do know Sequeira is getting his information from someone named Brisa.”
“I have never heard this name.”
“Nor have we, but we will continue searching for information. Until then, be safe.”
Rao thanked the monk and thought furiously for a moment. Annja Creed was in immediate danger; in fact, he might already be too late to help her. Still, he wondered what he could do to warn her.
Then he thought of the police detective, Bart McGilley, and he realized there might be a way after all.
* * *
SEQUEIRA GLANCED UP at the impressive hotel as he strolled along the street. The downtown area was quiet in the early morning hours after the nightlife finally gave way to impending daybreak and responsibility. If Sequeira were not so pressed for time, he might have been tempted to stop at some of the clubs he had seen to enjoy the festivities.
Unfortunately, he was pressed for time, and he had his prey almost in his crosshairs. Annja Creed had arrived in Moscow hours ahead of him and had enjoyed a temporary lead, but the distance had now closed. He was upon her and she didn’t know it.
He anticipated that victory, and he wished he was leading the team inside the hotel. That wasn’t possible, though. Language was a barrier, as well as knowledge of the premises. In order to achieve the results he’d wanted, he’d had to rely on others.
Brisa had set up the liaison with a local mafia enforcer named Mikhail Kramskoi. The man trafficked in arms, and it was possible he and Brisa had met while involved in that business. Sequeira didn’t know everything that Brisa did, though he promised himself that one day he would.
A nondescript black cargo van sat across from the hotel in front of a parking garage and government building. The early hour guaranteed that no government interference would occur, and the parking-garage attendant had been paid off.
The back door of the van opened as Sequeira approached, revealing three men and one woman seated inside at a built-in computer desk. Bald and heavily tattooed on his face, neck and exposed forearms, Mikhail Kramskoi looked like the photograph Brisa had sent Sequeira over his phone.
Dressed in a black V-neck pullover with the sleeves pulled up almost to his elbows and black slacks, Kramskoi was all muscle. He stood loose and ready, a half smile on his twisted lips. Stubble lined his hard chin.
“Mr. Sequeira.” Kramskoi’s voice was a deep, pleasant baritone. His Russian accent was almost undetectable.
“Mr. Kramskoi.”
Kramskoi’s grin widened. “You may call me Mikhail. Brisa spoke very highly of you.”
“Brisa also spoke highly of you.”
“You wish to see the capture?”
“I do.”
“It would be better if you stayed away from this operation entirely. I am sure Brisa told you this.”
“Do you intend to get caught?”
“No.”
“Then I am just as safe here.”
Kramskoi grinned again. “As you wish. After all, you are paying for this.” He extended a big hand and effortlessly pulled Sequeira into the van, closing the cargo door immediately afterward.
The van was roomier than Sequeira had anticipated. He stood beside Kramskoi and they stood behind the woman operating the computer. The other two men evidently stood by as security and watched video feeds of the street coming from outside the vehicle.
The computer station had six feeds coming into the large 42-inch monitor. The views were divided into a three-by-two template and moved constantly, letting Sequeira know they were coming from cameras mounted on men inside the hotel.
“You have six men inside?” Sequeira asked.
“I have twelve men inside,” Kramskoi replied. “Only six of them are wired for video feed. Brisa said you wanted to make sure you intercepted the woman.”
“She’s proven elusive. Do not underestimate her.”
“I won’t. The people I have sent are very good at what they do.”
“You know which room she is in?”
“Yes, her and the old man. One of the night clerks has done work with me before. It was all easily arranged.”
“You were also told about the piece she is carrying?”
“They have their orders. Take the woman alive if possible, but kill her if necessary. And no harm is to come to the elephant.”
Feeling tense, Sequeira watched the video feeds as Kramskoi’s warriors crept through the hotel.
* * *
THE VIBRATION OF her sat phone woke Annja from a sound sleep. She hadn’t realized how tired she’d really been till she’d hit the bed last night. After her bath, which she’d luxuriated in, she’d taken her tablet to bed with her, thinking she would catch up on email, other leads she was pursuing and maybe even download a television show. The tablet lay nearby and she hadn’t even unpacked her backpack.
Feeling a little groggy, not as refreshed as she’d expected to be since she and Klykov had agreed to brunch instead of breakfast, she reached for the phone. She’d planned to connect with Professor Ishii and set up a meeting time.
A glance at the viewscreen showed Bart’s photograph. She thought about letting the call go to voice mail, then felt guilty. Then she realized Moscow time was 4:30 a.m., and Bart would have known that.
So this wasn’t just a social call.
Curious, she answered. “Bart?”
“Annja, you’ve got to get out of the hotel. Sequeira knows you’re there. He’s closing in on you as we speak. Don’t ask questions. Don’t think. Just go.”
Already moving, Annja left the football jersey she slept in on, then pulled on her khakis and stepped into her boots. She shoved the sat phone into the thigh pocket of her khakis, grabbed her tablet and dumped it into her backpack, then slung the backpack over her shoulder. She sprinted for the door, not bothering with any of the rest of her things.
She barreled into the hallway, surprising a maid who was already making the rounds. She tried to remember the layout of the hotel. Klykov was on the same floor as her. She raced to that door and banged on it.
“Leonid!”
“Annja?” Klykov opened the door, looking very concerned. “Is something wrong?” To her surprise, he was already dressed for the day.
“Sequeira’s found us. We need to get out of here now.”
Klykov didn’t ask any questions. He retreated for just a moment to get his coat, then returned and joined her in the hallway. His right hand was buried in his coat pocket.
Annja led the way to the elevators in the center of the floor.
“They will be watching elevators,” Klykov objected.
“We’re seven stories up,” Annja countered. “If we use the stairwell, they’ll box us in. If we get down to the lobby, I don’t think they will try anything there. We should be safe till we reach the street.”
Klykov smiled. “Very good, Annja. Still, is chancy proposition.”
“I know.” Annja’s pulse crept up as she stood waiting for one of the six elevators to arrive.
“Who told you Sequeira has found us.” Klykov fished his phone from his pocket with his left hand and hit a button on speed dial.
“Bart.”
“Your policeman friend, da?”
“Yes.”
“He is in New York. Someone must have told him.”
“He didn’t say. When we get somewhere safe,
I’ll ask.”
“This is most troubling.” Klykov spoke rapidly into the phone and put it away. “Vladi stayed in hotel down the block. He will get car and meet us outside.”
That was news to Annja. She had assumed the driver had gone home.
“I thought it best if Vladi remained available while we were in Moscow,” Klykov said. “In light of events in Odessa.”
The elevator on the other side of the waiting area and on the right dinged as it arrived. Annja nodded and headed for it as three young men stepped out of the cage. She watched them for any sign of trouble, but they appeared caught up in their conversation. As they approached, she smelled cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes that clung to their clothing.
At the same time, two men emerged from farther down the hallway. One of them glanced at the elevators and spotted Annja. He called to his companion and pulled a silencer-equipped pistol out of his pocket.
The three young men tried to scatter, but the gunman’s bullets slammed into them before they could get away.
Annja darted into the elevator and pulled the sword from the otherwhere as Klykov joined her. One of the gunmen darted in front of the elevator before the doors could close. He had his pistol up and firing. Bullets thudded against the back of the elevator cage.
Chapter 33
Standing to one side of the elevator doors, taking advantage of the meager cover offered there, Klykov fired his weapon from the hip. At least two of his three rounds struck the gunman standing in the hallway while the other went wide of the target. Then a fourth round smashed into the man’s forehead and he dropped back against the opposite wall as an elevator there opened to reveal two more young men.
The recent arrivals in that cage dodged away from the falling dead man, hesitated for just a second as he dropped among them and brought out weapons, as well. The elevator Annja and Klykov were in started to close its doors, then a hand wrapped around one of the panels and stopped them.
With a quick flick of the sword, Annja severed the restraining fingers and punched the button to close the doors. The doors swept closed just ahead of the fusillade of rounds that cored through the doors, scattering laminate veneer and metal splinters. Annja and Klykov sheltered behind the extra thickness of the sides of the cage and that protected them.
Calmly, Klykov replaced his partially expended magazine for a fresh one. He nodded at Annja’s sword. “Where did you get that?”
“Found it in the elevator.” Annja felt only a little guilty and hoped that Klykov did not press her about it. Of course, they had other distractions taking place, as well.
“This is a most strange place to leave sword.”
“I’m just glad to have it.”
“You are very lucky to be finding swords so easily.”
“We seem to be finding gunmen even easier.”
Klykov smiled and shrugged. “This is unfortunately true.” He glanced up at the digital readout as the numbers decreased. “They will have a team waiting in lobby.”
“Yes, but we’re not taking the elevator to the lobby.” Annja hit the button for the second floor and the elevator began slowing at once. When the doors opened, she checked for gunmen, found the hallway empty except for a few obvious hotel guests and stepped out with the sword still in hand. “We’ll take the stairwell to the lobby.”
“That is a good plan.” Klykov trailed her toward the end of the hall on that floor. His phone rang, he answered, spoke quickly and put it away. “That was Vladi. He will meet us in alley around back of hotel.”
“He moves quickly.”
“That is why he is good driver, and one of the reasons I hired him to chauffeur us.”
In the stairwell, Annja checked to see if the way was clear, then, not spotting anyone, she started down. She reached the door without incident, but something whipped through her hair and tore into the wall beside her head. She ducked and spun to warn Klykov.
The old man had already stepped out to put himself between her and the next bullet. He pointed his pistol and fired four times at the gunman leaning over the railing three floors up. At least one of the bullets struck the gunman in the face because blood obscured his features and the man fell back out of sight.
“Go!” Klykov waved Annja to keep running.
She pushed through the door and entered the main lobby. She held the sword down at her thigh to hide it from the handful of people occupying the chairs and sofas in the center of the room. None of them appeared to be threats, but four suspicious-looking men stood near the bank of elevators.
The side emergency door leading out to the street was only a few feet away near a matched pair of potted plants with large leaves. Annja headed toward the door.
At the elevators, the men turned suddenly toward the stairwell and spotted Annja and Klykov. Without warning, they lifted their weapons and opened fire. Bullets tore into the plants, ripping through the leaves and stems and shattered the massive pots, spilling earth onto the tiled floor.
Annja hit the door’s crash bar, setting off the security alarm, and passed through, almost running over the two armed men waiting on the other side. Astonished by how quickly the gunmen had responded to her location, realizing then that someone somewhere was controlling their movements, Annja threw herself forward, following the line of the sword.
Even though the blade was made more for slashing attacks, the point crashed through the man’s chest, through his heart and out his back. Annja released the sword as she shoved the dead man backward and willed the weapon into the otherwhere. By the time the surviving gunman recovered and took aim, Annja had pulled the sword back from the otherwhere and swung the blade across his midsection under his outstretched hands.
Seeing the grievous wound leaking blood, the man dropped his weapon, wrapped his arms around himself as he cried out in pain and fell to his knees. He died before he took his next breath, going slack and tumbling to the ground.
Traffic stopped out on the street as onlookers stared.
Annja didn’t know how many street cams Moscow had these days, but she hoped she hadn’t been caught by one. Klykov followed her out, took in the dead men at a glance and kept moving to the right.
“Quickly, Annja. We must keep moving.”
Sparing less than a minute to pick up one of the dropped pistols, Annja ran after Klykov, surprised by his speed but catching him easily.
Klykov shouted a warning in Russian and waved his pistol in the air, emphasizing the immediacy of the threat.
Early morning pedestrians got the message then and ducked away from Klykov and Annja.
Klykov instantly shifted direction and took up a stance behind a car parked at the curb. He raised his weapon and aimed at approaching gunmen who fired a volley of bullets that shattered the vehicle’s windshield. Klykov’s coat collar jerked and his fedora leaped from his head, but the old gangster never wavered. He squeezed the pistol’s trigger and one of the men dropped back, bleeding from a face or head wound.
Annja stopped behind the next car down and let the sword return to the otherwhere. She steadied the pistol, took aim, and fired at another of the men, catching him center mass with two shots in rapid succession. He stumbled back but didn’t go down. He didn’t appear interested in continuing the battle as he swayed drunkenly on his feet.
Glancing over her shoulder at the alley, Annja wondered where Vladi and the car were. Then two more gunmen ran from the alley and she realized the building had been surrounded.
“Leonid!” she called out in warning.
Klykov turned, but Annja knew they were both caught in a bad place. Then a long black sedan wheeled from the street and drove into the two men, knocking them away before they could open fire. The car rocked to a stop and Vladi got out with a pistol in each hand. He shouted at Annja and Klykov to get inside the big car.
Racing to the sedan, Annja opened the rear door and clambered in, followed almost at once by Klykov as scattered shots slammed into the vehicle but did not penetrate the i
nterior.
Vladi slid behind the wheel again, tossed his pistols into the passenger seat beside him and pulled the transmission into Drive. He roared forward along the alley. He glanced into the rearview mirror and shook his head in apology.
“Sorry. Traffic this morning was terrible.”
Annja reached forward and patted the chauffer on the shoulder. “Thank you, Vladi.”
He shrugged. “Is no problem. Now where you want to go?”
* * *
IN DISBELIEF, SEQUEIRA watched the black car race along the alley, carrying Annja Creed and the elephant away from him. He glared at Kramskoi. “These were your best people?”
“Other than myself, da.” The man didn’t look any too happy either. “This is Moscow. She cannot go anywhere I will not find her. I will be in touch when I locate her again.” He opened the cargo door. “There is no payment till I settle this matter.”
Sequeira nodded and stepped out of the van. He texted Brisa. SHE GOT AWAY.
I KNOW.
ARE YOU STILL TRACKING HER?
OF COURSE.
Sequeira took a deep breath and felt only a little relieved. He could hardly wait to put a bullet through Annja Creed’s heart.
* * *
LOOKING AT ALL the debris and the Moscow law enforcement surrounding the streets where the violence in the hotel had spilled over, Rao was again surprised at Annja Creed’s propensity to survive in life or death situations. He stood in front of the parking garage across the street from the hotel. Wind tugged at his jacket and ran cold fingers along his exposed flesh. Judging from the violence that had taken place, she should have died a dozen times over.
His phone rang and he answered.
“This is Bart McGilley.” The detective did not sound pleased.
“She got away, Detective McGilley,” Rao replied.
McGilley let out a relieved breath. “I haven’t heard from her. Is she okay?”