“You have my word. Trust me. If it weren’t for our current situation, she’d be my number-one priority.”
“So how do I get home?”
“Let me make a few calls. All of the transport planes leaving the Afghan region are making stops in Berlin to pick up supplies and refuel. You can meet one of them there.”
“Okay, I’ll check back when I’m in the air to Germany.”
She disconnected the wires once again and put the phone away. She started to pull out of the parking space when she stopped suddenly. The Russian had just exited the main reception area. She was leaving. Taylor quickly argued with herself about just leaving or going ahead and following the woman. Since there was only one way off the island, she decided she would at least follow her that far and then decide. She watched as the Russian got into the car the valet brought around and sped through the main gate.
She let the woman drive past her, along with two other cars, and then pulled out. The trip around the point of the island and back to the mainland was quick. Taylor decided she couldn’t let it go. She at least had to see where the woman went. She stayed back and watched as the woman turned her car onto the E-11 main road.
The Russian seemed to be making Taylor’s decision for her. After ten minutes, it became apparent the woman was headed toward the airport. Taylor figured that as long as the Russian continued on this route, she would follow her, since she was going to the airport anyway. If the woman veered off this course, she would decide what to do then. But it never happened. And now they were getting very close to the exit.
Taylor assumed the assassin wouldn’t be flying commercially. And that meant that she would be turning into the private terminal. Just like her. That wouldn’t be good. The Russian would see her coming in behind and assume she was being followed. Taylor had to do something quick.
She remembered from the drive out of the airport that she only had about another two miles of main road before having to turn into the airport entrance. She decided to gamble. If she was right, the woman would be going to the private terminal and she would have the jump on her. If she was wrong, then she would just head to Berlin. The Russian would have to wait.
Traffic was steady on the highway, so she got over in the far lane and accelerated. She didn’t move too fast, as to draw attention to herself, but swift enough to overtake the Russian’s car, two lanes over. Within a few seconds, she was a good bit ahead of the woman. Once she felt comfortable that she was far enough ahead, and the Russian couldn’t see her, Taylor gunned it. She continued on and made her way to the exit that led into the terminal.
The private terminal was big, for a private terminal, but still manageable. Taylor figured she had no more than fifteen minutes to find the woman’s plane before it took off. She raced to where her own plane sat and pulled out her laptop. It only took her a few seconds before she was into the airport’s mainframe. In another two minutes, she had it narrowed down to two hangars. One plane going to Geneva, the other to Thailand.
She quickly weighed the options in her head. She only had a few more minutes. The Russian would already be at her hangar by now. Thailand was definitely a place to disappear to. You could get lost there easily. However, an almost-six-foot-tall attractive blond woman would stick out like a sore thumb in Thailand. Geneva, on the other hand, now that was a place where someone with the Russian’s physical attributes could blend in. She checked the computer screen one last time. The hangar was only a few hundred yards away. She jumped out of the car, checked her weapon, and started walking.
Halfway there, she stopped. She had just got done telling Jennings she was smarter than this woman. But this was reckless. If this assassin were worth half her salt, she would expect this, even if she weren’t expecting this. Taylor thought for a moment and an idea came to her. She ducked behind a fueling truck and pulled out her phone. Within seconds she was connected to airport security. She identified herself as a foreign agent and asked if there was a way to ground all flights, explaining that she had reason to believe an explosive device was hidden somewhere on the grounds, possibly on an aircraft. The mere mention of an explosive device, she knew, would indeed ground every plane there for at least an hour, while the security protocols were followed. She also knew that this would make the Russian suspicious. And that was what she was counting on.
She quickly got off the call, making an excuse, and watched as one by one the planes moving freely among the tarmacs and runways began to slow down and come to complete stops. Within seconds, she heard sirens and knew her plan had worked. She moved out from behind the fueling truck and back to her own hangar.
The night sky gave her decent enough cover. Most of the stars and the moon were obscured by a heavy cloud ceiling. Other than the few lights on the buildings themselves, it was dark. And that was good because she didn’t want anything drawing attention to the three police cruisers that were sitting unattended at the end of the small lot.
It is pretty universal for law enforcement officers to leave their cars unlocked because in an emergency, the last thing they need is the hassle of trying to get into a locked car in a hurry. So Taylor was confident that the cars would be unlocked. Apparently, the fine officers of the UEA Airport Police didn’t share these tenets. All three vehicles were locked. But she only needed to get into the trunks, so she pulled a little black case from her pocket. Though she had never needed to do it, the FBI had trained her how to pick a lock and had given her the little kit she now held in her hand. She had been told to never go anywhere without it. And right now, she was thankful that she had listened. The first trunk gave way with just a few pokes and twists of the little tweezers-like blades. She quickly looked around. Not there. She moved onto the second car. Same thing.
“Come on!” she said in a frustrated whisper. She picked the lock on the third car and lifted the lid. “Finally!”
She took what she was looking for and hurried back to her car, being careful not to be seen. She threw it into the backseat and hurried off toward the hangar she believed the Russian was leaving from.
She made it to the hangar and hugged the side. Slowly, she inched her way forward, getting closer to the open hangar doors. She found a few crates to take up a position behind and waited.
It only took two minutes before the Russian woman appeared. And she did so carrying her pistol. She had it dangling at her side, as she carefully glanced around outside the hangar. Was the woman just being curious? Or did she sense something wasn’t right? She took another look around and stepped back inside, out of Taylor’s view. The woman’s awareness was probably fully heightened. The Russian knew something wasn’t right. And that was what Taylor was hoping for.
Taylor knew that it wouldn’t be long before security made its way through, checking every building and plane. When that happened, the Russian had two options. Stay put and pretend nothing was wrong or get out of there and come back later. Given the fact that the woman was one of the most wanted assassins in the world, Taylor assumed she wasn’t going to stick around. She carefully backed away, not making a sound. Once she was sure she was clear, she hurried back to her car.
There was only one road in and out of the private terminal. Taylor knew from hacking into the mainframe that only four planes were scheduled to have taken off this evening. Automobile traffic in and out of the terminal should be minimal. She was counting on this, because if she made a mistake, the wrong person could get badly hurt. She said a quick prayer that she would be right and sped off out of the terminal.
The road between the main terminal and the private one was a little over a mile long. Barren desert was the only thing on either side of the road, with the exception of a small building that looked like an equipment shed halfway between. A few fuel trucks and other machinery were parked beside and around the small building. Taylor pulled her car in behind them to hide it. She got out, retrieved the spike strip she’d stolen from the cop car, and took up a position only three feet from the road behind anothe
r truck.
She had only just gotten set when she heard the approaching vehicle. The road was long and straight, so Taylor assumed that the car would be traveling at a good speed. And it was. As she peeked out from behind the truck, the headlights of the car were getting closer at a rapid pace. Timing was going to be everything here. She had only a window of a few seconds to step out, make sure it was her target, and then take action.
She waited until she could sense the car was almost on her position. She watched the road in front of her until she saw the beams of the headlights get narrower and narrower. Finally, at the last second, she stepped out and confirmed it was the Russian. She threw the spike strip out into the road. She jumped back behind the fuel truck in time to see the Russian woman jerk the wheel.
Megan watched as the car jetted past her, unable to slow down. It hit the spike strip, just as she had intended. The car slid to the right and then up onto two wheels as the driver lost complete control, rolling three times before coming to rest upside down. Glass from the windows had blown out in every direction. When it came to rest, the car was a crumpled heap and a mess. Taylor raised her gun and ran to the car.
When she got there, she couldn’t believe what she saw. There was blood on the airbag that had exploded and pieces of torn clothing were on the shards of glass still hanging from the driver’s side window. But the Russian was gone. Had the woman been thrown from the vehicle? She turned to look around the area when she felt the thwak! in the door beside her.
She jumped over the nose of the car and scurried behind the mangled front end of the other side. The Russian had survived the crash and was shooting at her with a silenced pistol.
Thwak, thwak, thwak!
The shots hit the front of the car again. She tried to stay still and listen, to see if she could hear the woman moving around. She had to be injured, Taylor told herself. No way someone could just walk away from a crash like that unscathed. She sat still for a second. Finally she heard the crunch of the dirt and gravel. And it was moving away from her. The woman was trying to run.
She jumped out from behind the car and fired three shots in the direction she had heard the footsteps. She knew she probably hadn’t hit anything, but she wanted to confirm the direction of the shots. She crouched back down and looked carefully through the rims of the wheels. She saw the muzzle flash and then heard the thwak! again as the Russian’s bullet hit the rear of the car. Her aim was getting worse.
Megan stood up again and fired exactly where the muzzle flash had come from. She heard a guttural “Ugh!” and then what sounded like someone falling and dragging herself along the gravel and dirt. Finally the dragging stopped.
Megan took the small flashlight out from her back pocket and clicked it on. She was taking a big risk here, but she had to. She was sure, from the sound of it, the Russian was down.
She played the beam of the light across the ground in front of her and waited for another burst of thwaks! But they never came. She stepped out from behind the car.
She had gone about thirty feet off the road, into the desert, when she saw her. The woman was lying still on her stomach. Her gun was a few inches from her head. She had one hand above her, the other by her side. One leg was bent and the other straight, as if the woman had been trying to crawl away. She kept her gun trained at the woman’s head and used her foot to roll her over.
The Russian flopped over onto her back. She had a four-inch piece of glass sticking out from her neck. She had, apparently, been thrown from the vehicle. Right through the driver’s window. The woman’s entire left side was soaked with blood. The wound in her neck was bubbling as she labored to breathe. She began to cough, as blood spat from her lips and onto the desert sand beside her head. A smile creased her lips as she tried to say something, but Taylor couldn’t hear it. She kicked the woman’s gun away and leaned down, placing her own gun directly over the woman’s heart. The Russian coughed and tried to speak again.
“My name is Alexandra Sokolov,” she said.
“I know who you are.”
“I underestimated you.” The Russian tried to smile but it only led to a coughing fit.
“Yes, you did.”
The woman coughed again, heaving up more blood. “I killed your president,” she laughed.
Megan felt a tear roll down her cheek. “He’s not dead.”
The woman’s breathing was becoming more shallow. She only had a few seconds left. Taylor stood up to leave, but the woman grabbed her ankle. She leaned back down.
“I–I’m sorry,” the Russian said and exhaled.
Megan watched as the Russian’s eyes went wide. She could see the fear and the terror in them. “I’m sorry, too,” she said as the woman’s grip fell away.
Alexandra Sokolov was dead.
CHAPTER 73
It was less than four hours from sunset when the last of the troops and supplies arrived in Albany. There had been no further advancement from the Chinese. They seemed to be, for the time being, satisfied with occupying the central part of the country. This made sense, though. If their main objective was oil, they already had what they’d come for. All of the oil presumed to be in the United States was between the Rockies and the Mississippi River. With no resistance other than a few pockets of militant citizens, the Chinese had taken the country in less than three days. Keene knew, though, it was only a matter of time before they came for the rest. If there was one thing he knew about a military strike, it was you don’t quit until you’ve completely subdued your enemy. There was no way the Chinese were not going to try and take Washington. It was the head of the beast. And the only way to kill the beast was to take off the head. So it stood to reason, the next twenty-four hours could determine the future of the United States of America.
Albany was a ghost town. Jennings had been successful in his grassroots campaign to get the word out to citizens. Between public radio and the Emergency Broadcast Network, word was spreading throughout the nation that there was sanctuary for Americans if they could get east of the Appalachians. Fort Benning and the other divisions were reporting in that people were arriving in droves to come through the mountain passes or up from Atlanta. There had been some attempts by the Chinese to advance on those checkpoints, but the American forces had been ready this time. More than fifteen Chao Qi Chinese fighter jets had been taken down, along with twenty or so pockets of Chinese infantry who had tried to push through the mountain passes. It seemed, for now at least, America was getting her legs back under her.
Keene had spent the last couple hours, since arriving in Albany, coordinating the defense strategy. Most of the commanders and their troops had already been deployed to strategic points within a fifty-mile radius. Keene had spoken with Jennings, who had already mobilized and sent north everything he could spare to help reinforce Keene’s men. However, he and Keene both decided on leaving a good number of men in the DC area in case the Chinese somehow managed to pop up off the eastern coast again. The Chinese had incredibly advanced radar and stealth technology. As little as two nuclear subs surfacing off the coast could do irreparable damage.
The problem Keene was facing now was twofold. He knew the ultimate target was Washington. The Chinese would absolutely come for it. And in order to get ground troops in, they had to come from the north. So Albany was definitely a logical place to set up the defensive front. However, if they were able to stop the advancement—and he definitely planned on stopping the advancement at any cost—there was nothing keeping the Chinese from another complete nuclear strike on the eastern United States. In all reality, if the Chinese were there for the purpose of the natural resources, then there was nothing to deter them from completely annihilating the rest of the country. They had already proven their intentions on the West Coast. The loss of life would be catastrophic. And that would be game, set, and match. That, Keene told himself, could not be allowed to happen. So the question, then, was how could he make sure it didn’t?
He grabbed the sat-phone and dia
led the number.
“We’re all set. I sent out two recon units to put eyes on what’s going on up there. They should be back any time now.”
“Good,” Jennings said. “I just got off the phone with Taylor.”
“How is she? Everything okay?”
“She’s fine. Levy’s dead.”
Keene let that hang there for a moment. “She killed Levy?”
“No.”
“Then what? Who?”
“Alexandra Sokolov.”
“What! I thought she was working for Levy.”
“You know how it is, Jon. Loose ends.”
“How do we know it was her?”
“‘Cause Taylor saw the whole thing.”
“How? What happened?”
“Oh, it gets better. Taylor’s not your average computer geek.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“She followed Sokolov to the airport, where she did something completely stupid. She’s starting to remind me of you.”
Keene decided to take that as a compliment.
“She somehow lured Sokolov back away from the airport,” Jennings continued, “and ran her car off the road. Sokolov was thrown from the vehicle but survived. She and Taylor exchanged fire and—”
“So Megan shot her?”
Keene listened as Jennings quickly recounted the rest of the conversation he’d had with Taylor. Though he was happy that both the Russian and Levy were taken care of, he found himself worried about Taylor. And though he wasn’t sorry Sokolov was dead, he wished he had had a chance to question her.
“She say anything—the Russian?”
“Said she was sorry.”
“Too late for that now,” Keene said, disappointed that they would never get anything else out of the assassin. “What about Boz?”
“Haven’t heard anything. Don’t know what’s going on. Maybe he just decided to get somewhere safe.”
The 13: Fall Page 28