Or my mother had decided to save me and let herself be caught. One never knew with Magda. She’d play the story to suit her needs later, so there was no point asking questions.
No matter what issues we had, I couldn’t abandon my mother.
Chapter 23
With a sigh of exasperation, I surrendered my flight to freedom and peered into the kitchen—no Bill, no Magda, no nobody. Fine then. I listened and heard raised voices upstairs. I slithered around out of sight of the hall doorway, nabbing the sturdier kitchen knife on the counter. Better armed, I cautiously peered down the hall. No one there.
I debated the wisdom of checking the garage for the limo, but I feared the chauffeur might still be in there, polishing the fenders of snow crud. I didn’t think it would take three men to subdue Magda. She’s not much larger than I am.
I darted to the empty coat closet and slipped inside, leaving the door slightly open. I once used coat closets as my favorite entertainment, hiding and listening to my mother’s plotting or the whispers of embassy employees, depending on where we were. Closets had been my window on the world.
I didn’t do them so much anymore, but this one was empty, convenient, and lacked anything useful like hangers that someone might want.
“Such a lovely room,” I heard my mother purr maliciously overhead. “Brown and red are such a fashion statement. I must know your decorator.”
Ah, the same room they’d taken me to. Was she signaling me? Didn’t Ivan wonder where I was? Or did he not care as long as he had his prime objective?
“My wife decorates,” the Russian grunted. “You will stay here.”
I didn’t hear my mother’s reply. They must have shut the door on her.
“Where is other?” Ivan asked, quite clearly.
I heard them stomping down the stairs. I leaned back against the closet wall but didn’t close the door. I could see the foyer from here.
Bill, the nosy little runt, replied in Russian.
Popov cut him off. “English! You must remember, you are American at all times. It is not good if you forget at the bar.”
Bill grunted a Russian crudity I recognized, then said, “Outside playing snowballs. I figure she’s freezing her ass off trying to scale that wall. I didn’t know your wife lived here.”
“She fill place with things to which I am allergic,” Ivan growled, sneezing to prove his point. “Then she left. Women are useless. Fix me food and bring it to study.”
If I remembered correctly, the room with the desk in it had leather chairs, and no carpet and curtains. Ivan must have ripped them out.
I didn’t waste time pitying the asshat. I waited until I saw them descend the stairs to the foyer. Bill turned toward the kitchen, passing right in front of me. Ivan went down the far hall, leaving the foyer and staircase unobserved. Hearing no one else, I eased up the steps, thanking Mrs. Ivan for the lovely thick carpet that disguised any sound from my rubber-soled boots.
Magda was just unlocking the prison-room door as I reached for the knob. We stared at each other for a moment—thirty years of rocky relationship hitting us in the face. But we were family.
If she felt any emotion at seeing me, she disguised it. “Is there a television anywhere?” she whispered.
Those wouldn’t have been my first words. “First room at top of stairs. Probably Mrs. Ivan’s. I have no idea if there’s cable.”
I let her go look for the medium while I maliciously entered the prison room for all those lovely feather pillows. I already had the paring knife out. I began slicing them open as I followed my mother down the hall. I’d make darned certain we heard Ivan coming. I shook the last feathers down the stairs.
Did I hear more sneezing below us?
While I shredded a thick comforter all over the stairs and hall, Magda adjusted the TV to her liking. She cackled as she found what she was looking for. “The pigs were genius, if I do say so myself.”
“We can probably walk out the front door if we want,” I said in disgruntlement at this delay. “I don’t know how soon Bill will remember that he turned off the alarm.”
“I cannot miss the culmination of a lifetime of planning,” Magda said, sitting on the end of the overstuffed bed. “You can trot out in the storm, if you like.”
Curiosity is my besetting sin. I turned to watch the TV.
She had the sound off, but the camera shot was entertaining. Michael Moriarity and what I assumed was his entire extended family were walking around a large banquet hall, handing out flyers. At the head table, standing at a podium, was our distinguished presidential candidate, Senator Paul Rose. Even on this crappy TV I could tell he’d turned as gray as the hair beneath his dye job.
Adorable little squealing pigs were running under the tables, down the aisles, sending the expensively-garbed patrons into a panic as they tried to dodge the elusive porkers. Men in suits—some with concealed weapons—were dashing about, attempting to round up the critters. I waited for one to whip out a lasso. It was even funnier when the pigs ran between their legs, and they had to leap and dance around chairs and tables just to stay upright. At least none drew their guns on the adorable squealers. The pigs wore Scion balloons on rose-colored ribbons around their necks.
I’m not sure how many flyers actually made it into the hands of the fleeing guests, but paper fluttered all over the room. News crews were grabbing them out of the air as they filmed each other dodging pigs.
“You do know how to catch attention,” I muttered. “What do the flyers say?”
“We had to keep it brief. It’s just an outline of Rose’s connections to Scion, and Scion Pharmaceutical connections to weapons manufacturers selling to terrorists in Afghanistan, Iran, and Syria. We left the Russian drug-weapon connection to last. Ivan shouldn’t be so pissed.”
“You spent a lifetime tying Rose to the gun industry?” I asked dubiously.
“Oh, no, when they follow those leads, they’ll find the connection between Rose and every other member of Top Hat. And there’s a website—hosted in Rumania, of course—where we outline the murders, fraud, and blackmail they committed to get where they are today, plus evidence that Scion was dealing weapons for drugs. The icing on the cake is Nadia’s list of all their offshore bank accounts. We figure hackers will empty them before anyone gets that far.”
“You’re bankrupting Top Hat,” I murmured in awe.
Furious shouts erupted below. Guess Ivan had figured it out too. He probably had the sound turned on. News announcers were practically jumping up and down with glee over a boring fundraiser turned ultimate exposé.
Ivan wasn’t the sort to keep his ire to himself. I heard doors slamming and shouts and heavy footsteps running.
“Well, time to go.” I handed Magda the paring knife.
She happily grabbed the comforter and began shredding it. “Any back stairs?”
“Not unless you want to do the hapless heroine in the attic scenario. Confrontation time.” I took the pillows and ripped them open as I ran for the stairs, comforter held like a shield.
A bullet ripped through the cotton and past my head.
Graham takes a wrong turn
“The limo has turned into Bethesda, not gone on to Chevy Chase,” the voice on Graham’s phone reported.
He cursed. Calculating Ivan wouldn’t be keeping the women in different houses, he swung the Hummer around in an unplowed gas station, and roared back the way he’d just come. “Keep me posted. I need to redirect my driver.”
He called Sam and told him to find a good parking place in Bethesda, preferably near the bar. “What are you driving?”
“The Subaru,” Sam said with dignity. “I wish to be there when you are.”
Graham snorted. “More intelligent method than this one. I’ll let you know when we have an address.”
For his men, he tried to sound calm and confident. Alone in the dark Hummer, roaring down empty, snow-blanketed highways, he was filled with dread. He wanted to curse the little fool fo
r getting in over her head, but Ana hadn’t been doing anything except shopping for birthday presents.
He reminded himself that she was better trained than most to handle daily emergencies as well as major unexpected events. She was the kind of person one wanted at their side in times of hurricane or earthquake.
He could not protect the world.
He needed to protect Ana. His world had just found focus.
He hit the Bluetooth button when the phone rang again.
“All hell is breaking loose at the fundraiser,” his man on the scene reported. “I think Rose is feigning a heart attack. Moriarity just left with his family by a side door. Want me to keep following him?”
“Keep me entertained. Tell me what’s going down.” Information was his lifeblood, the reason he got up in the morning, the only reason he was still sane and not dead from a bullet to the head. He couldn’t help Ana until he knew where she was, and information would get him there.
He prayed he’d made the right choice in following Magda to Bethesda and hoping Ana was in the same place. Surely even Ivan didn’t have enough security to hold two hiding places.
As the story of the pigs and the flyers and the Moriaritys unfolded, Graham wanted to pound his head against the steering wheel. Magda had really done it this time. She’d just incited World War Three. Every thieving bastard in Top Hat would be gunning for her—and her entire family.
He called Nick to warn him to gather all his siblings and their significant others in the mansion.
“Already on it,” Nick reported. “Although I think the men in Top Hat are money guys, not action sorts. They will be slow to respond. Right now, they’re calling their lawyers, moving their money around in a panic, and ordering up their private jets.”
“Moving their money?” Graham hadn’t heard that part.
“Zander uncovered all their secret bank accounts from those files Ana sent him from Nadia’s computer. He gave them to Magda when Ana didn’t respond. She has them posted on that damned website.”
Graham whistled—until he realized the retaliation that would result. He didn’t mention that to Nick. “You’re probably right, but I don’t want to have to hunt any more of your family in this storm. I’ll send men to secure the house.”
He and Max had already made the mansion into a fortress, but it wouldn’t hurt to have extra eyes and ears on duty. Of course, Ana’s siblings were probably even better—although more unorthodox—at guarding than his trained professionals.
She had one hell of a family. He’d learned to respect their differences.
“Keep your men posted on Nadia’s room,” was Nick’s curt reminder. “She’s showing signs of waking. We have one of her friends reading to her, but she’s no fighter.”
“On it.” Graham called the guard at the hospital with orders for extra monitoring.
After he punched out, the phone sputtered again and a brisk voice gave him an address and directions—Bethesda, as expected. “The car stopped, so they’re at their destination.”
“Is it one of Ivan’s properties?” Graham asked after speaking the address into the Hummer’s GPS.
“Yep, listed as vacant. Want us to surround the place?”
“You have anyone anywhere nearby?”
“We have two men watching the bar and one keeping an eye on Scion’s place.”
“Send them over. They may have a chance of getting there before Ana burns down the building.” Graham added that to reassure himself. Ana would most certainly burn down a building if it meant getting out alive.
He just didn’t know if she was alive.
He gunned the engine, spun the tires, and roared the Hummer past the snow plows.
Chapter 24
“I didn’t explore the third floor,” I said, flinging the comforter down the stairs. It landed smack on the heads of our attackers. Ivan sneezed, setting off another round of gunfire.
Magda sensibly turned tail and ran back down the hall. Close-up weapons like knives and feathers pretty much lost to propulsion explosives.
“Windows,” Magda said, heading for the television suite.
It didn’t take a lot of deduction to grasp her meaning. I preferred it to jumping from the attic. “Wrong side. That lands in a walled garden. Go for the front and hope there’s a pedestrian gate.” I ran to the other bedrooms and began gathering comforters and pillows.
Loud sneezes and roars emanated from below. Men are so clumsy when attacked by soft things. Another shot rang out, but I suspected that was Ivan’s trigger finger still going off with his sneezing. I would split a few more pillows, but I’d rather use the rest for a warm landing.
Magda tried to unlock the window in the front room, but it appeared to be sealed or painted shut—fire hazard and bad news. No wonder they couldn’t sell the place.
Muttering furiously, we both kicked at the modern double-paned glass until the window cracked, then shattered. I almost fell through before I could knock out the remaining glass with a blanket wrapped around my hand.
With the window open, I heard the rumble of a loud motor.
“They’ve got reinforcements,” I said, trying not to panic as I heard a single set of heavy footsteps stumbling up the stairs.
I didn’t hear Bill. Although I hadn’t seen any sign of a weapon, having a sniper on the loose was Not Good.
“Whoever is coming up that drive is not Ivan’s man,” Magda said, listening to the roar while shoving comforters and pillows over the ledge to the snow drift beneath the window. “His driver is his only reinforcement, plus whoever that other wretch is downstairs. Piotr is home, sleeping with his dog,” Magda said in disgust. “Piotr is a businessman, not a thug.”
“That other wretch is a sniper who may have shot Scion,” I informed her. “And I don’t think that’s a snow plow coming our way.” I dropped out more comforters and pillows. No one shot at them.
I wanted to be home like businessman Piotr, sleeping with a kitty, with my family tucked safely around me.
I didn’t want to be caught up in any more of Magda’s disastrous escapades. It seemed as if I’d spent half my youth fleeing into the night like this. I just did not want to go there anymore. My fury added extra oomph to my flinging of pillows.
Graham was no better, I realized angrily, although he at least had the courtesy to keep me out of his business.
A glimmer of logic forced me to recognize that Magda hadn’t involved me this time—and I’d still been kidnapped. I was hanging out with the wrong danged people.
The roar came closer. Something very large and heavy slammed into the iron gates blocking the drive.
“Not any friend of Ivan’s,” I agreed, playing my role as Obvious Woman. Ivan’s thugs would know the code.
We couldn’t lock the door from the inside of this room, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Ivan applied bullets to the flimsy lock and the door exploded into splinters. Brilliant man was our Ivan.
“Out you go,” Magda cried, shoving me from the window ledge into the comforter-covered snow drift below, saving me from Ivan’s erratic gunfire.
As I tumbled out, high-powered rifle fire briefly lit the night. Bill, hiding in the bushes. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, as the old saying goes.
I didn’t feel it at first. I did my tumble and roll and slid into the shrubbery around the foundation just as I’d intended. The landing had about knocked the breath from me, so I couldn’t crawl out of range as quickly as I would have liked.
The ache in my shoulder began as I tried to slither on my belly behind the bushes while forming a snowball. I only managed a few feet. My left arm was reluctant to let my hand grip the snow. All I needed was a distracting barrage to cover Magda. She seemed to be struggling with Ivan in the window. I hoped she put her knife to good use. I had to take the shooter down—with snowballs—so she could jump. I got off a single shot.
As I’d hoped, Psycho Boy swung his fire toward the snowball. He couldn’t see me behind the snow-draped
shrubs, but I could catch glimpses of him under the security light. I made a few less-than-stellar balls. To relieve my aching shoulder, I got to my feet, and battered him as best as I could while zigzagging behind the overgrown shrubbery.
He kept shooting toward the last snowball thrown. Real snipers learned better than that. Despite his braggadocio, he was no more than a stationary target shooter.
I couldn’t see behind me but I knew the moment Magda jumped. The gunfire swung back in her direction, giving me breathing room. I fell behind a particularly large evergreen to watch the vehicle smashing through the front gate.
A Hummer. Graham didn’t own a Hummer, but I knew with all my heart and soul that it was Graham driving like a berserker in that car. The over-sized tank crashed over the tilted gate, grinding it into the drive. Then the Hummer plowed straight through to the front door rather than follow tracks to the garage.
I figured he’d go through the front door if I didn’t present myself.
Gunfire erupted again, this time from the upper story window we’d leapt from. Ivan stood framed in the broken glass, cursing and shouting and shooting at anything that moved.
A single shot from the Hummer’s window brought him tumbling down.
I hate, loathe, abhor, and despise guns, but for this one moment in time, I appreciated their convenience.
I stumbled from behind the evergreen, trying to wave my arms, until I collapsed in a nice big snowdrift.
Raging internally, Graham swung his automatic from the bastard in the window to the stupid sniper who’d shot Ana. The idiot had frozen in place, hiding behind his gunsight as if it were a shield, while he looked for his targets. Graham aimed his weapon, peeled off a few rounds, and the sniper fell.
He shoved open his door to find Ana. His heart had stopped the moment she’d fallen into the snowbank. Not again. Never again. He couldn’t lose his life’s blood one more time while he helplessly watched his world crash around him.
Twisted Genius Page 20