“What is this about?” he asked. “Why are they after me? Why did you release me?”
Angela opened her mouth, but the sound of a small explosion from above interrupted her before she could speak. “No time now, we’ll go over the details later. Right now we have to get out of here!”
She helped Samarin to his feet and they continued on through the door. Angela rigged that one as well. They were now in the basement, and Angela knew from her analysis of the schematics where she had to go from here.
Angela took a handgun from the bag and walked slowly down the corridor. She gestured for Samarin to stay behind her and slowly they moved ahead. Angela concentrated, focusing her senses. She got the feeling they weren’t alone down here. With a gesture, she indicated for Samarin to stay where he was and she went on ahead, gun in one hand, knife in the other.
Once she approached the corner, she jumped out, raising the gun. And she saw a guard there who held up his hands. He started screaming in Russian that he was a friend.
Angela relaxed and lowered her weapons. “You work for Brezhnev?”
The guard nodded, speaking in rapid English, “Yes, Mr. Brezhnev, he sends me to help. I am Kandinsky.”
“Would have been nice to have that help back in the cell block,” muttered Angela.
“Mr. Brezhnev say you proved in the club you could handle that yourself.”
Angela rolled her eyes. Should have figured Brezhnev would pull something like that. But it didn’t matter, she did manage to get Samarin out of there. Now all they needed was to get away from Vanko before the Agency’s people found them.
Kandinsky led the two of them through the corridors. “You can access a maintenance tunnel this way. It should be the perfect way to get us out of here before they find us.”
“And you have a car waiting?” asked Angela.
Kandinsky nodded. “At the other end, there’s another man waiting to pick you up. He’ll take you to a safehouse.”
Angela looked at Samarin. “How are you holding up?”
“Tired, but I’ll be okay,” said the old man.
Kandinsky opened a locked door labeled MAINTENANCE in Russian. There was an access hole in the floor, but the door to it was open. As soon as Kandinsky saw it, he backed away.
“What is it?” asked Angela.
“That wasn’t open…”
Angela brought up her gun and Kandinsky drew his as well. The maintenance area was large with a lot of dark corners. Boilers, water pumps, generators, and other devices surrounded them. Big enough for someone to hide behind.
“I don’t see—AH!” Kandinsky screamed as something tore across his back and he fell forward.
Angela fired at the spot behind Kandinsky. She saw a shadow move there, but it was gone. She turned in the area, trying to find some trace of the assassin in the darkness. The room was too dark, Samarin was useless and Kandinsky was down. It was just her against whoever this mysterious killer was.
She tried to focus her senses, just as her mentor had taught her years ago. Mason Draconi taught her that sight wasn’t always the most reliable sense. She concentrated, listening for the slightest sound that was out of the ordinary, allowing her skin to feel the slightest shift in wind or temperature that might indicate her attacker’s position. Allowing the air to waft in and out of her nose to see if there were any scents that were unusual for this place.
But she couldn’t pick up anything. This assassin was very good—whoever they were. If this was another member of Quartermain’s team, then it was clear to her who he had picked. And she knew that if it was who she thought, then things were about to get a whole lot more difficult.
Angela felt a shift in wind from behind. She spun on her heel, moving out of the attacker’s path. She saw a shadow coming towards her rapidly and raised her gun and opened fire.
The blur ducked and weaved, almost faster than she could process, avoiding her wild shots. Angela saw a flash of steel and raised her knife to defend herself. There was a clang and then she finally found herself staring into the face of her attacker.
A man with long, dark hair and Asian features. His jaw was covered by a mask and he was dressed from head to toe in a black outfit that clung to his wiry frame. His forearms bore gauntlets with razor-sharp blades extended from them.
Vincente. The Agency’s deadliest assassin.
CHAPTER 8
Expletives surged through Angela’s mind when she saw who her opponent was. Vincente was the Agency’s top assassin, the man they sent in when everything else had gone to shit. He was a rabid dog who would kill any in his path.
And now, she found himself face to face with a man who, as far as she had ever really known, was little more than a whispered rumor.
One of Vincente’s blades was held at bay by Angela’s dagger. But he still had another and he thrust it towards her. Angela jumped back, falling just barely out of reach. She tried to fire, but Vincente moved too fast for her to aim.
Vincente was like a blur and the next thing she realized, the gun was knocked from her hand and clattered to the ground. Now all she had was the knife to defend herself. She held it up as she tried to keep distance between herself and the assassin.
His dark eyes stared at her. There was no anger in them. No hatred. They were completely empty. All she was to him was a target to be eliminated. His calm approach is what gave him an edge.
A few shots rang out, causing Vincente to back off. Angela looked and saw Kandinsky, still lying on the ground, but his gun pointed up. The man wasn’t lying down for the count and she was suddenly very glad Brezhnev had chosen Kandinsky to aid her.
Vincente rolled and jumped around the room, avoiding Kandinsky’s bullets. And as expected, it wasn’t long before his gun clicked, the magazine spent. Vincente rushed him, but Angela made her move.
She rolled across the ground, retrieving the gun Vincente had disarmed her of before. Angela sprung from the roll and aimed just as Vincente ran his blade into Kandinsky’s chest.
The bullets slammed into Vincente’s back and caused him to seize up. There was no blood, though, which meant he was wearing body armor. But the force of the bullets did stun him enough for Kandinsky to move away.
Angela rushed Vincente, slamming her shoulder into his back. He stumbled forward, falling into the corridor just outside the maintenance room. She kicked the door shut and locked it from the inside, just as she heard his blades scraping against the metal frame.
“Samarin! The bag!” she ordered.
Samarin nodded and brought her the bag. Angela looked inside and took out another explosive. She quickly rigged it to the door and looked at Samarin, who was now tending to Kandinsky.
“He’s alive,” said Samarin. “But we need to get him help.”
Angela moved from the door and picked up the bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “We don’t have time.”
Samarin looked up at her in horror. “What? This man risked his life to save us! We can’t just leave him behind!”
Angela grabbed Samarin by his arm and pulled him up. She gave him a hard stare with blue eyes that were cold as steel. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. He risked his life for us to escape. If we take him with us, he’ll slow us down and we’ll be caught. Then he’ll die anyway, and it’ll have been for nothing.”
Samarin shook his head. “Have you any humanity?”
Angela didn’t answer, just shoved Samarin towards the hole. “Get down that ladder now. Before I lose my patience.”
Shotgun blasts slammed into the metal door. Quartermain and Julie must have gotten past the traps Angela set and were now working with Vincente to get in. And it’d be bad for them if the explosive she rigged to the door went off before her and Samarin could get into the tunnel.
“Go!” she barked. Samarin gave her one last, disgusted look before he descended the ladder. Angela went after him and closed the access door behind her. She hooked another explosive to it and dropped from the ladder.
/> The tunnel was narrow, so much that her and Samarin had to move single-file. It was long, too. And seemed to only go in one direction. They wouldn’t be hard to track once Quartermain’s crew got down here, so they had to move fast, find another path as soon as possible.
“We have to move,” she said, taking the lead.
Samarin still stared up at the now-closed door. “But Kandinsky…”
She angrily spun to face him. “Look, people have gone to a lot of trouble to get you out of that hellhole. Those guys after us? They’re about as dangerous as they come. We can debate the merits of leaving a man behind later, once we’ve gotten to the safehouse.”
Angela raised the gun and pointed it at Samarin’s head and he flinched. “If you want to have that debate here, then I’ll just shoot you right now and escape on my own. I wasn’t too excited about this job to begin with. So if you want to stand there and give me shit for saving your life, then I’m really not in the mood. Now are we clear on this or do you want to spend more time arguing with me?”
Samarin gave a nod. Angela turned. “Good. Now hurry, we have to get out of here.”
***
Quartermain and Julie stopped in mid-run when they came to the maintenance door and saw Vincente trying futilely to slash his way into it. His blades did nothing more than spark as they scraped against the metal door, leaving scratch-marks on its surface.
Julie eyed the black-clad assassin with trepidation as she slowly approached him. “Is that…?”
“Vincente,” said Quartermain, although it was more to the assassin than Julie.
The silent killer turned, his hands still clenched and evidently still interested in killing something based on his posture. Quartermain lowered his shotgun and held out an open hand to try and calm his operative.
“It’s okay, it’s just us,” he said.
Vincente relaxed. He stepped to the side of the door and gestured towards it. Quartermain looked at the assassin and asked to confirm. “They’re inside?”
Vincente gave a nod. Quartermain reached for the door.
“Hold on,” said Julie. “Angela rigged the doors in the stairwell with explosives, nearly took us out. Stands to reason she did the same here.”
Quartermain backed away. “You’re right.” He waved his hand away from the door. “Back away.”
The Fixer fired his shotgun at the lock, but it did nothing. Julie came up to the door and reached inside a pouch on her belt. “Looks like we’ll have to fight fire with fire.”
She hooked up an explosive of her own to the edge of the door. Julie ran from the door and both Vincente and Quartermain followed, moving around the corner. Once they were a safe distance away, Julie hit the small detonator in her hand. The explosive blew, triggering the one Angela set as well.
Julie looked around the corner and saw the door was now open, swinging a bit from the force. The Fixers ran to the room and inside they saw the results of the battle. Vincente pointed at the access chute in the floor.
“Rigged again, most-likely.” Quartermain looked at Julie. “Got another of those explosives?”
Julie shook her head. “Not sure it would do much good anyway. By the time we got through, Angela would be long gone with Samarin.”
“Dammit!” Quartermain kicked the door. It slammed against the frame and flew open again.
Vincente moved away from the chute. Julie watched him move with cautious eyes, her grip tightening on her shotgun with every step he took. She’d heard the stories about Vincente and now to discover he was the fourth man on the Fixers made her more than a little uneasy.
Vincente stepped back into view, dragging a body behind him. He let go of the hands and Julie knelt down to examine him. “He’s dressed as a guard.” She saw the name tag on his shirt and touched her hand to the comm-link in her ear. “Baxter, check the prison staff records. See if there’s a guard named Kandinsky.”
“Roger that, checking now.”
Quartermain stepped beside Vincente, staring down at Kandinsky. “Was he helping Lockhart?”
Vincente looked up from the guard and turned his head to Quartermain. He gave a nod.
“Hey Kim, just checked the records. There’s definitely a Kandinsky on the roll. But he’s supposed to be off-duty today,” said Baxter.
“Now, why do you think a guard would come in on his day off to aid in a prisoner escape?” asked Quartermain.
“My guess is because someone paid him a lot of money to do so,” said Baxter.
“Or threatened him. He’s still alive…” Julie stood as she said the words, casting an angry glare in Vincente’s direction, “…although barely. We should get him medical attention.”
“Uhh, why?” asked Baxter over the comms.
Julie huffed. “How about because if he was in on the escape plan, that means he can probably point us to where Angela is? You want to throw away the one lead we’ve got?”
“She’s right,” said Quartermain. “Bax, what’s the status on comms out of the prison?”
“Been blocking every call in or out and have the doors locked up solid,” he said. “You’ve got a straight shot to the exit, but best to hurry. Won’t be long before someone inside can lock me out of the system.”
“Okay good, then let’s get out of here,” said Quartermain, staring down at Kandinsky’s face. “Lockhart won’t be able to stay hidden for long.”
CHAPTER 9
The Fixers had a safehouse set up not far from Moscow. It was a vacant restaurant, but they kept the shutters closed over the windows and door in the front and entered from the back. Baxter had set up shop in the office area before they left for Vanko, monitors and multiple laptops set up. He immediately went to work on trying to find any information on Angela.
Quartermain walked into the kitchen with Kandinsky slung over his shoulder, Vincente and Julie behind. The Fixers’ leader threw Kandinsky onto the metal preparation counter. Julie had done what she could to patch him up on the ride from Vanko to the safehouse, but he remained unconscious.
Quartermain gave Kandinsky a few slaps on each cheek. After several of these, his eyes fluttered open and he immediately tried to move once he saw Vincente’s masked face. But Quartermain kept him pinned down.
“Not so fast, son. We’re going to have a nice little chat here.”
“Angela Lockhart,” said Julie, hands resting on her hips. “Where did she take Samarin?”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Kandinsky.
“The two you helped escape. Where did they go?” asked Quartermain.
“Escape? What? I’m just a guard, I was trying to st—!”
Quartermain slammed his fist on the counter and it reverberated with the impact. He leaned over Kandinsky, staring hard into his eyes. “Let me give you a little piece of advice, boy—I am not a man you wanna lie to.”
“Honest, I don’t know—”
Quartermain threw a punch at Kandinsky to silence him. It caused blood to trickle from the edge of the guard’s mouth. Quartermain stood upright and took a deep breath.
“Y’know, I get it. I’m not really the most cuddly individual. Hell, you’re probably too scared of me to say anything.” He turned his gaze to Vincente. “Fortunately, I’ve got someone here who’s a real people person. Yeah, everyone just loves chatting up a storm after spending some time with him.”
Quartermain moved away from the table and Vincente took his place. He raised his arm, one of the spring-loaded blades sliding out from his gauntlet. Quartermain walked to the kitchen door with Julie following.
“Just make sure he can still talk by the time you’re through,” said Quartermain.
Quartermain pushed the door open and walked into the front area of the restaurant. He stepped behind the bar and procured a bottle of bourbon, pouring himself a glass. Julie circled around the front of the counter and placed her hands on its surface, leaning over.
He cast her a brief glance as he raised the bourbon to his lip
s. “You want one, too?”
“I’m not interested in a drink, I’m more interested in just what the hell you think you’re doing,” she said.
Quartermain sipped the bourbon and gave a satisfactory smack of his lips. “It’s called my job.”
Julie pointed to the kitchen doors and the screams that came from within. “Why didn’t you tell me Vincente was part of this unit?”
“What does it matter?”
“I need to be able to trust the people who are supposed to have my back. Vincente’s not exactly a team player,” said Julie.
Quartermain scoffed. “And how much do you trust Sutton? Or me?”
Julie cast her eyes downward.
“That’s what I thought.” Quartermain finished the bourbon and poured himself a fresh glass. “We’re not all Christian Pierce.”
“That’s for damn sure…” she muttered.
“Not like the first time you’ve worked with someone you had a fundamental disagreement with,” said Quartermain. “There was Mexico, after all.”
“Extenuating circumstances, you of all people should know about that,” said Julie. “But now you’ve got Vincente in there torturing someone for information.”
“Extenuating circumstances, like you said.”
“This isn’t right,” said Julie, cringing at another scream.
Quartermain sighed, turning his back to Julie and leaning against the counter. “I’m not interested in what’s right, Kim. I’m just here to do a job. And now I find out that Angela Lockhart is the one Infernum sent after Samarin. That makes this job a whole lot more complicated.”
“Why Angela?” asked Julie. “After what Infernum did to Christian, after they strung her along, why would she work for them again?”
“She’s very single-minded,” said Quartermain. “My guess is they offered her something she desperately needs.”
Julie and Quartermain both paused and listened, but couldn’t hear a sound.
“The screams stopped,” she said.
Quartermain nodded. “Yeah. Either Vincente got something out of Kandinsky, or our only lead is gone.”
The Fixers (Infernum Book 4) Page 5