“Just checking.”
“I’ve got your back,” Barbara said. “As long as the communications are working, I’ll be there for you.”
Some of the tension in Kylee’s stomach went away. Stony Man support had always been solid. Her adrenaline levels stayed peaked.
Creepstof Scherba’s private chambers were covered in layered security locks and alarms. Thankfully none of the devices were time-coded, which would have provided an extra can of worms.
Still, penetrating that security took serious time and effort. Kylee worked calmly and quietly, focusing on the tools of the thieving trade, shifting from device to pliers to cutting torch as needed. The cutting torch stressed Mick the most because the concentrated flames and the cutting lit them up, making them easy to spot in the darkness.
“Mick,” she said as she worked.
“Yeah.”
“Where’s the nearest smoke alarm?”
He was quiet for a moment. “Down the hall.”
“Take it out before we trigger it.” Kylee could have done the job herself in seconds, but she knew disabling the device would give Mick something to do instead of try to be patient.
Less than a minute later, he returned. “Done.”
Nine minutes into the process, Barbara said, “Scherba is en route.”
Kylee didn’t pause. “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“I didn’t trip any alarms. You’re tied in to the external warning lines, right?”
“You didn’t trip any alarms.”
“And if I had tripped something internally, the security on the premises would have been breathing down our necks by now.” Kylee shifted back to the newest lock.
“Yes.”
“It’s a long drive from Prague,” Kylee offered.
“He’s not driving. He’s flying. Remember the helicopter you encountered earlier?”
Kylee swore, drawing Mick’s immediate attention. The castle had a helipad on top of one of the buildings. She brought Mick up to speed.
“Must be the computer,” Mick said. “Maybe he doesn’t trust the one you tampered with and he has a big deal coming up.”
“How long before Scherba gets here?” Kylee asked.
“Twenty-two minutes. How long on the door?” Barbara asked.
“Fourteen. Fifteen. It’s hard to say. Scherba didn’t stint when it came to locking down his inner sanctum.”
“Then you’ve got to use the disk and open a commlink your friends can access.”
“Yes.” Kylee reached for the cutting torch again and saw Mick tense. “You did mention that this wasn’t going to be easy.”
“I did. But you’re going to be cutting it close.”
“Timing, Oz,” Kylee said, feeling the adrenaline surge within her again. Now that the odds had stacked up against her, she felt even more excited by the op. “I’ve always told you timing was everything.”
Fourteen minutes later, Kylee was through the final lock. She shoved her tools into the backpack and followed Mick inside.
The bedroom was opulent, furnished in expensive modern decor, including another round bed like the one on the catamaran. The computer station was to the right, filling the wall from floor to ceiling with peripherals. The ergonomic chair, wired for response to helicopter and fighter jet video games, listed for nearly ten thousand dollars.
“This guy takes his toys seriously, doesn’t he?” Kylee asked.
“Yeah. Hold up.” Mick crossed the room and disabled a laser light alarm that Kylee had already noted and that was on the Stony Man Intel Barbara had prepared. “Okay.”
Moving quickly and confidently, Kylee sat in the chair at the computer, took out the encrypted disk, and brought the machine online. The monitor cleared while she was placing more F/X boxes.
“Scherba is three minutes out,” Barbara stated.
“And the clock is ticking,” Kylee said as she performed the keystrokes that brought the hidden OS online. “Got it.”
Mick remained at her side, but she could feel the tension radiating off him and it jangled her nerves.
Kylee opened a phone line. “Okay, Oz, you should be in.”
The monitor suddenly shifted to a database file-search screen. The cursor moved independently.
“If you’re not in,” Kylee said, “then we’ve got a ghost in the machine.”
“We’re in,” Barbara said. “Let’s see if it has what we’re looking for.”
A file lit up on-screen. The letters and numbers under the file shifted and changed, becoming “Egorov Last Rites.”
“Is that it?” Kylee asked.
“Yes. You two should get clear.”
“In a minute. Let’s make sure you have what you need.” Kylee looked up at Mick.
“We should be going,” he said gruffly.
“We will.” Kylee paused. “So which is it?”
“Which is what?”
“Boxers or briefs?”
For a second, just the barest hint of a second, tough guy Mick Stone looked embarrassed. Then he grinned. “Darlin’, what if I told you I undressed to fit the occasion and went commando?”
“Then,” Kylee said, feeling as though the room had warmed ten degrees, “I’d say you were probably really cold about now.”
Before Mick could make a reply, the monitor cleared and a video presentation rolled. Kylee recognized Kapoch Egorov from the Stony Man files.
The Russian ex-spymaster turned international terrorist sat behind a large inlaid desk. Sunlight glowed against the windows behind him. He smoked a cigar, letting the blue-gray plume drift over his head.
“By now,” he said in a gravelly voice, “reports of my impending death have doubtless circled the globe.” He smiled without mirth. “Also doubtless, the majority of the world doesn’t care.”
“Oz,” Kylee said, “are you doing this?”
“Negative. The program had a trigger on it we didn’t catch. The second we opened the file, the presentation launched.”
“Launched where?” A cold chill threaded down Kylee’s back.
“Several places. We’re trying to track them now.”
On-screen, Egorov continued speaking. He leaned forward in his chair and his eyes took on a harsh hardness. “But the world will soon care. You will make them care, my friends and compatriots.”
“Do you want me to shut it down?” Kylee asked. She checked the back of the computer and found the communications cable sheathed in steel coils.
“Too late,” Barbara answered. “The transmission went out in a burst. What you’re seeing is a playback. One of the bursts pinged Scherba’s sat-phone e-mail. We were keeping his phone monitored for activity.”
“So he knows we’re here,” Kylee said.
“He knows someone is there.”
“Come on,” Mick growled. “Time we were off, darlin’.”
“During my years as a Soviet intelligence officer and those spent self-employed,” Egorov said, “I have amassed a fortune. Now that I am dying, I sadly find that I can’t take those riches with me.” He smiled. “However, I have decided on a most unique memorial to me.”
Hypnotized by the threat inherent in the man’s words, Kylee watched.
“I have begun a money transfer from my hidden accounts around the world,” Egorov went on. “During the next thirty days, there will be a contest. Every group or organization with an ax to grind against the United States or their European counterparts is encouraged to strike, to do their best to bring those countries to their knees. These people have hounded me for years. Now I will have my vengeance.”
Kylee noticed that Mick was frozen at her side, his hand on her shoulder. But he was watching the screen as well.
“At the end of that thirty days,” Egorov said, “an aide I have placed in charge of those monies will choose from among you a champion who has done the most to see that the so-called free world remembers me. The most destruction, the highest body count, the mass terror that is inflicted
as a result of these attacks will be taken into account. The chosen champion will receive all those monies I have hidden away for so long. Use it to continue your own war against the United States and their allies. Use it with my blessing.” He smiled. “And kill them all in the name of Kapoch Egorov.”
The screen blanked.
“That son of a bitch is crazy!” Mick exploded. “Do you know what kind of mass murder this is going to cause?”
“Yes,” Kylee said. “Exactly the kind that Egorov had in mind.”
“Move,” Barbara said. “Scherba is landing now.”
Now that the computer speakers had quieted, Kylee heard the dulled throb of helicopter rotors through the thick castle walls. A heartbeat later, Klaxons shrilled throughout the structure. Emergency lights flared to life in the bedroom and the hallway outside.
“We’re blown,” Mick said. He brought the MP5 up in both hands. “Let’s go.”
“Oz?” Kylee said.
“We’re downloading what we can get from Scherba’s systems,” Barbara said. “We’ll do that till we’re shut down. Go.”
Hauling her backpack over one shoulder, Kylee stood and raced after Mick.
In the hallway, a man reached the top of the stairs and turned toward them with an AK-47 in his hands. A three-round burst from Mick’s MP5 spilled the man back down the stairs.
“Guards have covered the lower floor,” Barbara said.
At the same time, a hail of gunfire turned Mick back from the stairs.
“Crowded down there,” he said. Blood shone on his left cheek where a bullet had narrowly missed splitting his skull.
Kylee relayed the message Barbara had sent.
“Looks like our back door is out,” Mick stated grimly.
“The window.” Kylee pointed at the window at the end of the hallway. “It overlooks the main grounds. We’re only twenty, thirty feet up. We can jump.”
“And then what?”
“There’s a garage full of cars out there.” Kylee raced to the window and yanked the drapes open, revealing the heavy steel bars.
“Well, that tears that,” Mick growled.
Kylee reached into her backpack and took out some of the C-4. Expertly, she jammed the plastic explosives into place and inserted remote controlled detonators.
Mick kept the stairway clear with the MP5. Kylee counted at least three men who had fallen to his skill with the machine pistol.
“Down,” Kylee ordered, pressing herself against the wall with her back to the window. When Mick had hunkered down as well, she triggered the remote control.
The window blew out in a basso Boom! that ripped the bars from the mortar, shattered the glass, and shredded the drapes into flaming tatters.
Partially deafened from the explosion, Kylee rose and triggered the other F/X boxes she had throughout the castle. Maybe they wouldn’t cut down on the number of people confronting them, but they would add to the confusion already in place in the castle, maybe split the security forces.
“Ready?” she asked Mick, yelling just to hear herself.
“As ever, darlin’,” he replied, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
Burning drapes wreathed the window. Kylee ran forward, glanced down and found the grounds in front of the castle clear. With a lithe leap, she vaulted the window and dropped.
As soon as she touched the ground, she let herself roll. The backpack threw off her balance and she had to scramble to her feet instead of rolling up naturally. Mick landed beside her, reaching for her automatically, then seeing that she had managed on her own.
“The garage.” Kylee pointed past the angel fountain that was the courtyard’s centerpiece. Looking silver in the moonlight and golden where the high-intensity security lights hit it, water from an artesian well spewed from a cherub’s mouth.
They ran.
Before they reached the freestanding garage that had housed horses and carriages in the past, the guards spotted them. Bullets chased them to the structure, then chopped into the stone as Kylee tried the door and found it locked.
She took a C-4 charge from her backpack, slapped it into place beside the lock and turned away to warn Mick. She touched the detonator and blew the lock to smithereens. When she looked back, the door stood ajar.
Trusting her gloves to hold for an instant against the superheated metal, Kylee grabbed the door and wrenched it open.
Emergency lights inside the garage illuminated a dozen expensive automobiles, SUVs and trucks. Creepstof likes his automobiles, too.
“See anything you like?” Mick asked as he reloaded the MP5 and the .45.
Kylee skipped the more expensive luxury cars like the BMWs and Mercedes coupe because they would have electronic keys. Those couldn’t be hot-wired. Likewise for the upscale SUVs.
The blue-and-white 1965 mint-condition 427 S/C Cobra CSX3000 muscle car stood out like a mongrel at a poodle show. The sports car was a rugged two-seater that housed a 427 cubic-inch powerhouse of an engine. Low slung and equipped with a rear rollbar and side pipes, the Shelby Cobra looked like it was born to run, and it was.
“Yes,” Kylee answered, smiling. Before she could move, a shadow shifted to her left.
The guard raised his Uzi.
“Gun!” Kylee yelled, and on the heels of that she heard another weapon open up behind her, letting her know the guard hadn’t been the only one securing the cars.
She threw herself forward, hearing Mick’s MP5 silenced stutter. The guard pointed his weapon at her as she kicked her feet out from under her like a baseball player stealing second.
Bullets cut the air over Kylee’s head, then her feet cut the gunman’s legs out from under him. He fell beside her, smacking face first against the stone floor. He shoved up and tried to bring his weapon up. Kylee met him with a right cross, putting all her weight and strength behind it.
His head turned and he dropped.
Pushing herself to her feet, she glanced up and saw that Mick was still standing, though he was bleeding profusely from a thigh wound. He’d never once moved, standing guard over her back.
“Let’s go,” he growled, staggering toward her.
Kylee slid out of the backpack, dropped it between the seats, then took out a Swiss Army knife. Reaching under the dash, she pulled out the ignition wires, bared them with the knife blade and touched them together.
Sparks jumped and the engine caught. The powerful V-8 rumbled like an impatient lion in the garage, filling the structure with its sound.
“Scoot over,” Mick suggested, limping toward her.
Kylee looked at him. “Why don’t you leave the driving to the professionals? That’s where I’m leaving the shooting.”
He grinned at her. “Okay then.” He limped to the other side of the car and dropped into the seat.
Kylee pushed in the clutch, shoved the car into first and let the clutch out. The tires scalded the pavement as the Cobra leaped forward. She managed the tight turn and sped toward the garage door.
“Door’s not open,” Mick yelled above the engine roar.
“It will be,” Kylee said.
Mick swore and took cover in the bucket seat.
Kylee reached to the sun visor and tripped the remote control she’d spotted. The garage door opened smoothly just before they reached it. If the Cobra had been taller, the vehicle would never have cleared the door. She grinned as they slid through.
Two jeeps with armed men rocketed across the courtyard. Assault rifles spat muzzle flashes.
Foot heavy on the accelerator, Kylee sped toward both of them. Bullets screamed from the Cobra’s rounded hood and trunk, punched a hole in the windshield.
Both jeep drivers pulled away from her, not wanting to follow through on the deadly game of chicken. Mick emptied the MP5 into one of the vehicles and it ran into the fountain only a short distance farther on, flipping over onto its side.
“The helicopter,” Barbara warned over the earpiece.
From the corner of her eye, Kylee sa
w the helicopter lifting from the rooftop helipad. Everything in her screamed to get away.
The other jeep came around in a tight turn, staying in hot pursuit.
Kylee steered for the castle entrance, noticing at once that the big modern security gate was closed.
“I don’t suppose the garage door widget works on that,” Mick said as he reloaded the MP5.
Kylee tried. The gate remained in place. She brought the Cobra to a halt in front of the gate.
“I’ve got a garage door opener,” she said. She shoved one of the remote detonators into a C-4 packet in the backpack, then threw the backpack at the bottom of the gate. Looking over her shoulder, she shoved the transmission into reverse and floored the accelerator.
The Cobra jumped backward, narrowly missing the on-coming jeep. The gunmen took cover, obviously fearing a collision. The jeep was at the gate when Kylee detonated the C-4 with the remote control
With the jeep parked nearly on top of it, the explosion lifted the jeep and the gunmen and threw them away, taking down the gate at the same time.
Kylee put the Cobra into forward gear and shot forward just as machine gunners in the helicopter opened fire into the ground where they’d been. She sped through the gate, but the helicopter pursued relentlessly.
The road twisted and turned like a broken-backed snake. Kylee pushed the envelope keeping the Cobra hurtling down the grade and clinging to the road without plunging over the side of the cliff. The mountain also provided partial cover at times.
“You can’t outrun them,” Mick shouted.
“I’ve got to,” Kylee said.
He looked at her. “You can’t get away from this one, Kylee.”
“I can.”
“Let me do this,” he said. “I can do this.”
“So can I.”
“Maybe you can, darlin’, but maybe you’re going to be one turn shy before we reach bottom. I trusted you when I got into this car. Now I need you to trust me.” Mick paused. “Stop the car.”
Get away. Get away. Kylee heard the familiar voice chanting in the back of her mind.
The helicopter appeared over the mountain again, guns blazing. She turned quickly and it disappeared.
“Please, darlin’.”
Reluctantly Kylee brought the Cobra to a stop, slewing around in a one-eighty that had brought them facing in the direction they had come.
Femme Fatale Page 24