by Rachel Grant
Ivy replaced torn moss and draped vines over the top. In minutes, it looked one with the jungle again, as if it hadn’t been disturbed in years.
They hiked back to the beach, single file, ever careful to leave no trace. When they reached the shore, they pulled out the inflatable boat they’d hidden in the jungle and rowed out to the south, away from their anchored boat, which was in a hidden cove in the Rock Islands. The inflatable was small, so Ivy tucked herself in Dimitri’s arms, and he was content to let the others row while he held her.
Voices carried across the water, so the crossing was silent until they were far enough from Peleliu to lower the engine and head toward the larger boat that had been Dimitri and Ivy’s home the last few days.
In sixteen hours, one way or another, this would all be over.
When they reached the boat, Ian asked, “Who’s up for a round of poker?” He tapped the supply box that was his seat. “I’ve got the beer.”
Dimitri doubted Ian Boyd did anything without an agenda, but in that moment, he didn’t give a damn. Beer and poker the night before his life started or ended sounded damn good. “I’m in.”
Ivy, it turned out, was good at calculating the odds in Texas Hold’em but had zero poker face when she had a good hand and was terrible at bluffing when she didn’t have the cards she wanted. The result was when she won, it was a small pot because everyone else folded, but she was always so damn pleased to win, her exuberance was infectious.
Boyd played like a spy. It wasn’t about winning or losing, it was about understanding the player across the table, and Dimitri knew he was the one being studied. If Ian were playing to win, Dimitri suspected he’d take every hand.
Luke was the competitive player, in it for the win but not for the stakes. He took his losses in stride and enjoyed the game aspect. Once the hand was played out, he focused on the next hand, not the results of the previous one. He bet low, and true to form, he stopped drinking at one beer.
Kaha’i—and by the third hand, they were all using first names—was like Ivy and into the numbers aspect, calculating odds based on his hole cards and what came up on the flop, turn, and river, but unlike Ivy, he had a solid poker face. Between that and his dry wit, he won just as often bluffing as he did with the cards he was dealt. Watching Kaha’i go up against Ian in a true contest would be interesting.
Deep into the night, Ivy was cleaned out of chips. She sat across from him and leaned back against the cushioned bench at the galley table and finished the last of her beer, then held Dimitri’s gaze. Her bare foot stretched out under the table and found his crotch. She grinned.
“Whoa, wrong man, Ivy,” Luke, who sat next to Dimitri, said.
Her eyes widened, and she jolted back, but Dimitri grabbed her foot—elbowing Luke in the process—before she could retreat. “He’s messing with you, Ive.” He stroked the arch of her foot with his thumbs.
Ivy’s face reddened, but then she relaxed when Dimitri began massaging her foot in earnest.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” Luke said, then stood and stretched. “Time to pack it in. We need to be back at the hotel before Fredrickson wakes and notices we’re missing.”
“I told you we should’ve drugged him,” Ian said.
Kaha’i shook his head. “And I told you Dominick will have my ass if we can’t prosecute because the evidence against him was obtained illegally.”
Ian grinned. “Raptor’s always looking for good operatives. There’s even a compound on Oahu.”
The Hawaiian FBI agent rolled his eyes. “I happen to like my job.”
“Even though you have to do everything the hard way, by the book? When I was CIA, I broke the law ten times before breakfast.” He cleared his throat and flashed a grin. “Outside the US, of course.”
“Of course,” Kaha’i repeated.
The CIA wasn’t allowed to conduct operations on US soil, so Ian Boyd’s lawbreaking was all done in foreign lands and condoned by the US government. Dimitri, however, had been a spy for Russia, operating in the United States. There was an outstanding warrant for his arrest, and Kaha’i had the authority to serve it—even in Palau. Curt Dominick had stayed the warrant thanks to the deal they’d struck, but Dimitri’s future was uncertain even if everything went off without a hitch in the coming hours.
Given all he’d done, he probably shouldn’t trust these people not to turn on him in the end, yet he did. Perhaps team building had been Ian’s goal with this poker game, even more than to gauge Dimitri’s character.
Ian stood and slapped the fed on the shoulder. “Sometimes you’ve gotta break a few laws for the greater good.” He winked at Ivy. “Or damage historic garbage.”
The others stood, and one by one, they climbed the short ladder to the deck. Poised to step onto the inflatable boat, Luke paused and turned to Dimitri. “This is going to work,” Luke said softly. “Hell, we’re ten times more prepared than we were last November, and this time, we’ve got a full team.”
“If anything happens to me, Luke, watch out for my sister and Ivy. They’re why I sent you the card. To give them backup if I fail.”
Luke gave a sharp nod. “I figured that out.” He gave a wry smile. “I’ve spent a lot of months trying to figure out what—if anything—you told me was true.”
Dimitri shrugged. “Not much. Except when I said I wasn’t going back to the GRU. And I didn’t. I was forced.”
Luke glanced over Dimitri’s shoulder, and his expression softened. “Be good to Ivy, or Undine is going to kick your ass—and mine.”
Dimitri nodded. That was Undine, fierce and protective of everyone, even when she didn’t know the person well. He glanced over his shoulder to take in the woman who’d made him want to live. “She means everything to me,” he said, holding her gaze. “She should be on the next flight out of here, going home where it’s safe.”
She crossed her arms, drawing his gaze to her cast. Guilt kicked him in the balls. “Not a chance,” she said.
“I’ll leave you two to your arguing.” Luke jumped into the boat. “Rest up. Tomorrow is going to be a craptastic day.”
Ian lowered the engine into the water and pulled the cord. He pointed the boat toward Koror, and they sped off into the night.
Ivy pressed up against Dimitri’s side, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Luke trusts you.”
He stared after the boat as it raced across the water. “I’m amazed he does. And humbled.”
“You like him.”
“I do. I was also jealous of him—his life, his friendships. Everybody likes Luke. Everyone respects him. Even Undine’s father—who once hated him—became Luke’s biggest fan. Parker had friends on the surface, and respect from the other Coasties, but it was all a lie.”
She ran her fingers over his cheek. Sometime in the last day, his whiskers had crossed the line between stubble and beard. “I never knew Parker Reeves, but I do know Dimitri Veselov, and Dimitri is the man I want to have a future with.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Dimitri is one damn lucky bastard.”
“Let’s go to bed so he can explore just how lucky.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It was showtime. Ivy glanced at her watch again. She’d had to duct-tape it to the cast because she hated wearing it on her right wrist and knew she’d be checking the time constantly.
After some debate, they’d agreed that Ivy would stay on the boat, anchored off the Angaur shoreline. All the men they trusted were involved in the operation. There was no one left to guard her. The hotel wasn’t secure and was also the first place anyone would look for her.
The exchange in the jungle of Peleliu was a covert operation on foreign soil, so the local police as protectors for Ivy were out. They’d start asking questions if she suddenly showed up at the station to hang out—plus she wouldn’t be able to carry a gun if she were with the police. And she wasn’t about to give up her gun.
She was comfortable on the boat and had an unobstructed
view of all three hundred and sixty degrees. It was the logical choice. No one had reason to search near Angaur, and here there weren’t any small islands for approaching vessels to hide behind.
But waiting for word from Dimitri was excruciating. It would likely be hours before she knew if he’d been successful. If he was even alive.
She paced, but the boat was half the size of Liberty. Very unsatisfying when it took less than a minute to circle the entire vessel. Finally, she paused in front of her computer.
She had the files she’d copied from the AUUV yesterday. She had yet to see if there was valuable intel stored in the memory. Work would distract her like nothing else could. But then, she doubted even work could distract her today, not with Dimitri in the jungle, trying to save his family. Trying to save himself.
But still, it was worth a try. She plugged in the hard disk and scanned the list of files.
She sorted the videos from the images. She clicked on a short video that filtered to the top. It wouldn’t play, so she broke it open and looked at the stills. It looked like video from the seventies. A man in front of a brownish-yellow background. She separated out the audio track and hit Play.
A deep baritone made wordless, musical vocalizations. Weird. But then the vocalizations were interrupted by a song that was familiar to her: Rick Astley’s equally deep baritone singing, “Never Gonna Give You Up.”
She laughed. She’d just been rickrolled, Russian-style.
She shook her head at this first layer of security, wishing she’d thought to put a rickroll in CAM.
The idea of someone stealing her baby, only to be confounded by Rick Astley on repeat made her smile. She would add a rickroll to CAM 2.0.
She closed the video and flicked her finger across the mouse surface to randomly select a different file from the directory. Wherever it stopped was where she’d begin.
The first file was nothing. Either wiped clean or blank to begin with. She pulled out a notepad and jotted down the name. There might be a pattern even in the dummy files, and she may as well be methodical.
On the eighth file, she had an image. Pixelated, but still, there was something. She kept going through the files, surprised to note ten minutes had passed. Her stomach still ached with fear, but at least she was doing something.
She realized she was humming “Never Gonna Give You Up” and cursed the Russian programmers who’d planted the earworm.
The next file was a video again. Except…the images when she cracked it open were, like the photo file, pixelated. Was it possible that when all the images were stitched together and reduced to one thousandth their current size, they’d make a recognizable image? The video would be good for that because it had so many stills in one file.
A puzzle.
She sat bolt upright.
She had code that could learn this puzzle. Read the pixels and match the edges. It was a type of encryption she’d experimented with for CAM but had set aside when the Pentagon gave her only three months to prepare for the field test.
She pulled up her original test code and ran the stream of images—over seven hundred—through. It was rough, but the program made a dozen matches. She zoomed out on the matched sections and stared at the result.
It was an aerial photograph, maybe?
She tweaked the variables on the program and ran the images through again. This time she had forty-one matches, including one section of eighteen stitched images.
Zoomed out, she could see…a truck. A military truck. US—maybe? Had the AUUV had been tracking US troop movement in Okinawa?
A sound behind her caught her attention. Oh shit. She’d been so absorbed in her work, she’d forgotten to watch the water, to make sure no one approached the vessel from any direction.
She closed the pieced-together images with her left hand and reached for the gun holstered in the small of her back as she turned toward the sound.
Zack Barrow peeked over the gunwale, holding a small tube to his mouth. She identified the object a half second before she felt a sting on her neck. Blow gun.
Tranquilizer dart?
All at once, the world spun and the boat rocked as Zack heaved himself over the side. Her vision tunneled narrowing to an ever-smaller dot of light.
Zack said something—sounding much like a slowed-down recording—and the pinprick of light disappeared.
Everything was in place. Ian, Kaha’i, and Luke were hidden in the jungle, ready to engage if there was trouble. As planned, Rudy Fredrickson was hidden as well, with Ian covering him should he prove to be playing for the wrong team.
Dimitri paced the circular gun emplacement, changing direction frequently, but not in a pattern. He was a sitting duck out here; predictable movements were not his friend.
Five minutes to the deadline to deliver Sophia and Yulian. His terms had been clear. If they didn’t show, he would give the AUUV to the United States. After examining the AUUV at length, Ivy felt certain there was intel on the disk. Between the data and the technology itself, giving it to the US was the last outcome Russia would want.
If any attempt was made to take the AUUV without releasing Sophia and Yulian, Dimitri would detonate the C-4 packed inside.
The minutes ticked by with Dimitri exposed. His security was the gun in his holster and the C-4 remote in his hand. All Dimitri had to do was press the button and the AUUV would be just another piece of historic wreckage.
They all wore earpieces for communication among the team. Dimitri’s was hidden, with the microphone at his collar so he would appear to be without allies. Raptor had provided this equipment along with the NVGs and assorted weaponry. The C-4 had been provided by the US military.
This was the first time Dimitri had ever run an op with a team. It was a relief, but also disconcerting, with Fredrickson as a wildcard.
“You’re looking nervous, D,” Luke said in his ear.
“Don’t I want to look nervous? Unprepared?” he asked without moving his lips.
“Disagree,” Ian said. “If I were your handler, and you looked rattled, I’d wonder what was wrong and pull back to assess. They expect the Hammer. That’s who you need to be.”
He straightened at that. These last weeks in Palau—months, really—had changed him. He’d forgotten who he’d been, and who he’d had to become to fulfill his assignments as the Hammer.
The Hammer was a cold-blooded killer who acted with surgical precision.
In the past, he’d thought of Sophia and Yulian, conjuring the need to protect them. That had brought out the darkness inside him, the fierce warrior. Today he added Ivy to his mental lineup. He would protect her at all costs. Do whatever he had to do. Kill whomever he had to kill.
No remorse. This asshole had it coming.
He’d threatened his sister. Threatened his nephew. This asshole would kill Ivy without a second thought if needed to control Dimitri.
This was his last time acting as anyone’s weapon, but today, for only the third time in his life, he’d been the one to select his target. Today, he was a weapon for Ivy.
The satellite phone he’d placed in the center of the gun emplacement rang.
Luke watched Dimitri’s transformation with a hint of awe. Without a word, all vestiges of Parker Reeves disappeared. Here he saw a glimpse of the man who’d been on the Interceptor that night in November.
Dimitri had been rattled by what was about to take place and had lost sight, for a moment, of his own readiness and training. BUD/S training for SEALs was notoriously hard, but Luke had a feeling it was nothing compared to the years Dimitri had spent as a student in the embed unit.
He never wanted to go up against Dimitri Veselov hand to hand or any other way. It was a marvel how much the man had contained himself in Neah Bay last year.
Luke almost felt sorry for whoever was about to enter the jungle with Dimitri’s little sister.
He could only hear Dimitri’s side of the conversation, and that was in Russian. Ian, thoughtfully, translated. “D i
s refusing to leave the gun emplacement. He’s sticking to the plan.”
Dimitri spoke into the phone again, then Ian said, “Cover your ears. D’s about to blow the warning charge.”
A moment later, an explosion rocked the jungle.
Luke grimaced. Cressida, Ivy, and Undine were all going to be pissed at the damage they were wreaking upon the National Historic Landmark that Ivy had repeatedly referred to as the largest and best preserved World War II battlefield in the Pacific. No one had informed Ivy about the charges they’d set today, knowing she’d freak.
“Shit. They’re still holding back. D’s about to blow number two,” Ian said.
Another explosion, this one closer.
Crap. Two minutes in and they were already on plan B.
“Stop wasting my fucking time,” Dimitri said into the phone. “If Sophia and Yulian don’t step into the jungle in the next ten seconds, I’m going to shoot your stooge, Fredrickson.”
“What the fuck?” Fredrickson shouted in his ear.
Dimitri dropped the phone. They could hear him without it, and he was done playing games. He pulled his gun, pointing toward the DIA agent concealed in the vegetation. “I’m going to count to five,” he shouted. “Produce Sophia, or Rudy dies.”
He was going off script, but he knew in his gut Rudy Fredrickson was complicit. He might not be the one who attacked Ulai, but he was involved. Fuck him. “One,” he shouted then paused for a moment. “Two!”
He stepped to the side, keeping his gun where he knew Rudy was, his other hand gripped the remote for the C-4.
“Where do you think you’re going, Rudy?” Ian said in his ear. “Move and I’ll shoot you.”
So this was what being on a team felt like. Dimitri would enjoy the warm fuzzies later. “Three.”
A snap of branches to the right caught his attention. “Four.” He turned, keeping his gun on Fredrickson. “I’m done fucking around.” He tightened his grip on the trigger.
“Dimitri! Stop!”
He turned toward the voice. A woman’s. One he hadn’t heard in years. Broad leaves parted as she stepped through the thick vegetation. She brushed aside vines with one hand, while the other supported a child, sleeping against her chest.