Officially, Charlie had worked for a corporation, doing some sort of desk work. Covertly, he orchestrated all of the CIA assets in the Asian block and answered only to Mitch. He was the perfect case study for Carol to focus on. She knew the ins and outs of the region, the political fluctuations, remembered when ops that should have been a success failed for no good reason.
Her goal was to figure out why.
If she could do that, identify why and how Charlie had passed along information and organized things, she could code the algorithm better. Fine-tune it.
Carol lifted her chin and stared out the window.
Why did Andy have to choose now to run off in the snow?
She had questions.
Maybe he was just outside.
She crossed to the front door and glanced at the temperature. Her mind didn’t automatically convert the Celsius to Fahrenheit, but that number looked damn cold.
She’d need the snowsuit just to go step out there and see if he was around.
He couldn’t have gone far. The snow was too deep.
Carol pulled the suit off the hook by the door and stepped into it. Andy had presented her with it yesterday right before the short outdoor tour of what was where. She liked knowing they weren’t entirely stranded because of the snow. The boots were more difficult to step into, but she managed well enough on her own without his help.
Suited, booted, and jacketed, Carol opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. An icy wind swept toward her, slicing through the winter gear as if she were in nothing but her pajamas.
Why on earth would anyone want to live here?
She closed the door and stepped to the edge of the porch.
Oblong tracks led away from the cabin. Some sort of snowshoe?
Why would he trek out there? Was he hiding something? Was there another structure? Did he really have to walk around the cabin?
This was so not her element. She was a city girl, used to taxis, staying indoors, and brunch.
Carol cupped her hands around her mouth.
“Andy? Andy, you out here?” she called out.
Her voice echoed, sounding too loud in the stillness.
Nothing moved. Andy didn’t answer. It was as if she were alone in a world covered with a blanket.
She eyed the snow. Walking through that didn’t look like fun. Besides, Andy probably heard her and would come back soon. When he did, they’d put that silly kiss out of the way and get down to business. There were answers to everything out there, and she’d begin by working through Charlie’s communication habits. He’d passed information along somehow, and not through regular channels.
Carol ducked back inside the cabin and shivered. Even that little trip outside left her cold. She couldn’t imagine being out there longer, much less in the snow.
She reached over and reset the alarm before it did something ridiculous, like blow her up. All Andy had said about it was that it would alert which point of entry had been crossed, not what would happen after that. She didn’t think the alarm would be quite that simple.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d had a mostly liquid dinner.
The dishes hadn’t been used, which likely meant Andy hadn’t eaten yet. Perhaps she could make something. A sort of peace offering. Very soon, Andy might be her only friend in the world.
What was he doing out there?
She peered out through the front door, but no answer—or Andy—materialized.
Food, then back to work. Andy would show up in time. She’d deal with him then.
Carol opened the fridge and eyed the contents. She didn’t even know what some of the stuff was, much less how to cook it. She pulled out a few things, stared at labels.
This was a mistake.
She closed the fridge door and turned toward the window.
Had she seen any sort of packaged foods around here? So far she’d eaten what Andy gave her, and all of it had come out of a pot or pan, without a can in sight.
Wait…
Carol frowned and crossed to the window.
The snow…
The sun beat down on the clearing, chasing away shadows but…the snow had been messed up on that side of the house.
Andy’s tracks were from the shed to the trees.
Had he come back when she wasn’t looking?
Carol jogged across the dining nook to the front door, sweat trickling down her back.
The alarm light flashed but made no sound. Shouldn’t it make a sound? It’d made one when Andy showed it to her so she’d know what it sounded like.
She held her breath.
Maybe Andy had come through the back and this was all a malfunction?
She watched the light and listened for a door, the scrape of a foot, something.
The light wasn’t turning off.
She glanced over her shoulder, but nothing moved, no shadows jumped out at her, it was still.
She didn’t like this.
Did she stay put and assume it was all in her head? She was simply hungover and paranoid? Or did she go with her gut?
Screw this. She wasn’t going to sit here and ignore her better sense.
Carol opened the front door and stepped out—running right into a man. His hand closed over her mouth, pinching her nose.
“Shh.”
She stared into his eyes. They’d gone so dark and cold she didn’t recognize him. It was the scar just to the right at the bridge of his nose.
“Go to the snowmobile shed and wait. Keep low, cover your ears. Understand? Nod.”
Carol nodded.
Andy released her, stepped past her and into the house.
Her gaze snagged on the gun in his right hand, the one he hadn’t touched her with.
This was serious, and bad.
…
Andy had to act quick. The team had already breached the house. Any moment now they’d make themselves known. Andy could only hope that they were not aware that he was present. It made sense that the team had waited for him to leave, because a defenseless Carol was easier to handle, and the true target. His aim was to trip the hit team up and allow Carol and himself to escape.
He crossed to the kitchen and flipped on the burners.
His goal was protecting Carol. He had to get her out of here. Nothing else mattered. Not the files or the research or the equipment. Without her, the rest of it was useless. When he had her secure, he could figure the rest out.
The softest of thumps resonated down the floor planks.
They were on the move.
Andy crossed to the hall. There was a large heavy door from when the cabin used to be two rooms. The hinges were old cast iron and hard to move. He pushed it away from the wall and set his shoulder against the old wood.
Carol’s bedroom door swung open.
Andy raised his gun.
A figure swathed in white leaned out, only a little, but that snow gear made for easy sighting in the dim house.
Andy fired once, twice, three times. Wood splintered. A man yelled out. Andy shoved the hall door shut. The hinges must have begun to give because the solid wood didn’t fit in the frame.
“Shit,” Andy muttered.
He turned and bolted for the front of the house.
Footsteps thundered down the hall.
He turned, firing blindly behind him. He yanked the door open as the two in pursuit returned fire.
Andy skipped the stairs, sprinted to the edge of the porch and vaulted over, landing in the snow.
Carol sat on the idling snowmobile, already backed out of the shed.
Smart girl.
He could kiss her.
Andy lunged into the shed and yanked the line on the detonator caps. Sparks hissed as the charges caught. He didn’t have time to ensure the countdown started. He jumped onto the snowmobile and gunned the engine, swerving the high-powered vehicle around.
They needed as many objects between them and the shooters as possible.
A figure
leaned over the railing.
Andy squeezed the accelerator and they shot forward. He swerved. Shots rang out, hitting the snow, sending up plumes of flurries.
Five…
He cut behind the house.
Glass shattered and a shot hit the plastic casing on the front of the snowmobile.
Four…
Carol screamed.
Andy banked, turning so fast he felt Carol nearly whip off the side.
Three…
A blast so loud the snow seemed to ripple from the concussion wave rang out. Andy lurched forward and Carol’s yell was lost amid the sound of the explosion.
They tumbled sideways off the snowmobile.
The timing was off.
Debris hit the snow, raining down.
Andy rolled, pinning Carol under him, protecting her with his body. She sobbed into the material of his jacket.
“Carol.” He barked her name, killing all kindness inside of him. It was natural to panic. Any normal person would, but they didn’t have that luxury. “Pull it together. We have to go.”
He pushed up, grabbing hold of her arm and hauling her up with him. He couldn’t coddle her, couldn’t spend precious moments assuring her it would be okay. They needed to get clear, in case there were satellites aimed at them or if the two shooters weren’t dead. Chances were, if these people were good enough to find them, they were good enough to survive the traps.
Andy glanced back. The front right side of the house was blown out and flames licked the sky. With any luck, everything they’d brought with them would burn with the follow-up charges.
“Come on. Now.” He didn’t see movement from the two shooters, but he also didn’t see any bodies.
Unless he saw them dead, he’d assume they were alive.
He wanted to go back, finish the job, but that would mean leaving Carol vulnerable. He couldn’t do that.
Andy picked her up and carried her to the snowmobile. He righted it, put her on the back, and climbed on. He’d hoped they would have more time here, but they didn’t.
He gunned the engine and they shot forward, sailing through the trees.
Andy headed south until he spied a landmark, an almost perfectly smooth, sphere-shaped boulder. He pulled the snowmobile into the shelter created by the huge rock resting against the side of the mountain, and killed the engine.
“W-why are we stopping?” Carol’s voice trembled.
“I need you to go through your pockets. Take everything out, understand?”
“Why?”
“Carol—”
“Fine,” she snapped.
Andy edged out, almost into the open, closed his eyes and listened.
Carol sniffled and wrestled with her coat, all the layers of fluffy down.
“Shh,” he said quietly.
Was anyone following them? He hadn’t had the chance to see if they had transportation near them.
Carol sobbed quietly, the sound bordering on frantic.
He couldn’t hear anything over her.
Andy turned, biting his tongue. She wasn’t used to this, she didn’t know how to act, what to do. She was human.
“Here.” He grasped the front of her coat and lowered the zipper.
Tears streamed down her face. He couldn’t afford to take vital moments to comfort her, to tell her lies like it would be all right.
She pulled an arm out of the coat and reached into the snow bibs.
Red soaked her shirt, smeared her skin, and dotted the snow.
Carol froze.
Andy wrapped his hand around her upper arm and held the coat under her to catch any more blood. She whimpered and leaned against the rock.
“Carol, focus on me.” He glanced over the wound, breathing out a silent thank you to the universe. “Look at me. This probably hurts a lot. It’s just a scratch. I need you to suck it up and make do. When we get where we’re going, I can take care of this. This isn’t going to kill you.”
She stared at him, eyes full of fear, and nodded. Her lower lip quivered, but she didn’t cry another tear; there wasn’t another sob from her, just quiet acceptance.
“Okay, I need to make sure we aren’t carrying anything on us that has a tracking device. I’m going to search your pockets, okay?” He reached inside her snow bibs, feeling in the flimsy knit pant pockets, the multiple snow pockets, and the jacket pockets. There were a few odds and ends, which he tossed on the ground, but nothing that made him believe they could be tracked.
He helped her zip back up and sat her on the snowmobile.
There were no whines of engines, no yells, not even the sound of footsteps in the snow.
Chances were they’d made it out, but they still had a long way to go before they were safe.
Carol would need antibiotics. They’d have to get somewhere before the real snow set in. It was a fight against the elements now, and though Andy knew they could do it, he didn’t like their odds.
“Wouldn’t the blast have killed those people?” Carol’s voice was soft, wavering, but she was thinking, and that was a good sign. She was coming out of the shock.
“We can hope, but probably not.” He slid onto the driver’s seat, reached back, and pulled her hands up around his waist. “We’ve got a ways to go and there’s some bad weather blowing in. You going to be okay?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
Good girl.
“I’m sorry about the kiss last night,” she said.
The wind picked that moment to gust in his face, the icy caress reminding him all too well of just how hot her lips had been against his. They would have to come to terms with that kiss sooner rather than later, especially when Carol got a glimpse of their accommodations.
“Focus on hanging on,” he said over his shoulder. “Everything else, we’ll figure out later.”
He squeezed the accelerator and they eased back out into the wilds. From here on out he’d have to rely on his compass to get them where they needed to go. It wasn’t like there were landmarks out here. The pitfalls and hidden things were enough to possibly kill them for the people on their trail.
As they went he puzzled out the options. How had someone found them?
Was it the satellite hack? He’d known he was taking a chance, but it was worth it. They had to test the program out in a real environment to figure out how to improve it.
Did Carol have some sort of tracking device on her? Had someone trailed her across the globe? Given how much attention was on her, it wasn’t an out-of-the-question risk. He’d known that by bringing her gear, he was also potentially carting along a Trojan horse.
He’d just thought there would be more time.
The first snow flurries hit his cheeks.
They were running out of time left and right.
…
Georgia counted to twenty, gritting her teeth. There were a thousand tiny daggers stabbing her face and hands. With any luck, the snow would calm the burns.
“Hey? Hey, get up. I’m not carrying your ass.” A boot toe jabbed her in the side.
She was going to kill Tate.
Georgia levered herself up slowly. Despite the chilly, biting wind, she could feel the heat in her face.
“Shit.” Tate grimaced. “There’s a kit back up at the road.”
“How bad?” She wasn’t vain, but scarring made a person noticeable. Identifiable.
“You won’t be Scarface, but your cheek’s fucked up.”
“Which way did they go?” Georgia balled up some snow and pressed it to her cheek. Her left glove had been burned away, so at least she didn’t have to wrestle with it.
“Down that way.” Tate gestured at the tree line south.
“Fuck.”
“Did you know it was him?”
“When I heard the woman call his name?”
“But not before?”
“No.” Georgia scowled. “I wouldn’t fucking be here if I had known.”
“You’ve worked with him?”
; “What is this? Twenty goddamn questions?” Georgia huffed and shoved up to her feet, gritting her teeth.
Show no weakness.
If the roles were reversed, Georgia would shoot Tate to keep from having to listen to him whine about being injured. He was slowing her down. His constant complaining would draw attention. Despite how much the man aggravated her, they were both in the same line of work. She couldn’t afford to underestimate him. Besides, if they were after that Andy, and judging by the last twenty minutes they were, she and Tate were going to need more people.
“The front is blowing in.” Tate lifted his sunglasses and stared into the wind.
“Let’s go. Their tracks are going to be gone soon, no point in trying to follow them on foot with the snow coming. They won’t return.” She glanced over her shoulder at the still-burning cabin. The bedrooms didn’t appear to have much damage, but the front half was gone, and what remained was blazing away.
“You’re calling that new bitch,” Tate said.
Georgia bit back a groan.
No complaining.
“Let’s get back to the road.” And the first aid kit, a shelter, and a place to sit that wasn’t covered in snow.
Tate took the lead, cutting a path back toward the tree line. Georgia glanced over her shoulder every other step.
Andy was dangerous, like them, only more so now. He was backed into a corner and smart enough to know it. Otherwise, why would he have booby-trapped the cabin with explosives? Gas and a match would have done the job.
Neither Tate nor Georgia spoke during the trek back to the road. This gig was no longer the in and out, under twenty-four hour job it’d been. They’d been sent after a company man, someone who didn’t also work for the private intel agency, SICA. If they didn’t eliminate Andy, he could blow them all out of the water now. He might not know what he was doing, but if he’d recognized them in the least, they had bigger problems than some botched orders on their plate.
By the time they reached the road and the snowplow they’d hot-wired, Georgia was sweating. Her left hand and cheek felt frozen from the three or four snow packs she’d held to her face. She kicked off the snowshoes and climbed into the cab, weariness dragging her down. It was always like this after the high of an op, but this time the low was worse. Dread pulled her down.
Assassin Games Page 10