While disgusted, Sam couldn’t help but be glad the two men were such creeps. They would usher her right into the building she wanted to be in, and their guard would be so low, she would easily be able to incapacitate them before she went on the hunt for her friend Zhanna. And that was all that mattered. She just had to keep that in mind.
Over the last forty minutes, she had progressively acted more and more drunk, and though she didn’t know what it felt like, she’d been trying to act drugged as well. Now that Patrick had arrived, she could really lay it on thick.
“You guyz er fun,” Sam slurred. “I’m tired of thiz place.” She drooped her eyes to feign drowsiness. “Canwego potty somewhere elze?” Sam laughed and slapped the guy beside her on the thigh. “Didyou hear that? I said potty”—she hiccupped—“but I meantosay party.” She laughed and tipped her head back, then acted as if she was falling against the wall passed out.
“Sure. We have party back at our place.”
Sam came back to life after his words. Her hair fell in front of her face. “Yes! That’swhatI’m talking about!”
The man beside her grabbed her around the waist and helped her out of the booth. Sam stumbled for effect. They caught her, and both of them helped her get her coat on, then led her out of the bar. It didn’t take long for them to start groping her. Their needy hands roamed free all the way across the street. It was a good thing she’d moved her gun to the inside pocket of her coat, because if it were at the small of her back where she normally kept it, they would have found it a dozen times over in just a two-minute span.
Mercifully, they made it to the door of the closed deli. The man with the keys began unlocking the door, while the other pulled Sam close and tried to kiss her. She did her best to act as though she were passing out, but he was relentless. Thankfully the door was opened and she stumbled toward it to avoid his last attempt. Once inside, the man hit the light and a completely empty room appeared. Again, the attempts to kiss her came, and the other man pushed up behind her and began kissing her neck. The smell of vodka and bad cologne was enough to make her sick. She had to move this forward, or they were going to just go at her right there on the tile floor.
Sam pushed away long enough to get their attention. “I’mstill a lady, youknow,” she continued to slur. “Take me to bed and bothofyou can have some fun.”
Their faces both lit up, and the man in front yanked her by the hand to the back of the deli. They walked down a hallway, through a door, and out into a stairwell. They practically carried her up two flights of stairs, and their room was the first one they came to on the top floor. As one of them unlocked and opened the door, Sam stumbled inside. The place wasn’t very big, and she walked backward toward the couch that was in the living room. She slid her coat off and tossed it on the floor. She curled her finger in a “come hither” fashion. And they practically came running.
Sam began lifting up her shirt. The first man made it to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Kissing at her neck. The second man squeezed at her with his hands as he moved around behind her, pressing into her. She was elated that this disgusting farce was finally over.
Sam wrapped her hands around the man’s neck in front of her and pulled his head back. He groaned with pleasure. As he went in for a kiss, she drove her right knee up into his groin with all the force she could muster. This time he grunted in pain. She spun around in a whip and brought a right elbow around with her. It connected to the side of the man’s head and moved him back about a foot. She took advantage of the man being doubled over in front of her, and this time her knee blasted against his forehead. He fell backward onto the floor, unconscious.
“What the hell is wrong with you, bitch?” the man said as he rubbed his temple where the elbow had landed.
Sam really hated that word.
“I’m going to kill you, bitch!” he shouted.
She really hated it.
The man lunged at her, throwing a wild right hand at her face. Sam stepped to the side and kicked him in the stomach. His breath released, and he doubled over in pain. There was a lamp beside her that was begging for his head, so she obliged and crashed it over top of him. He dropped too. She wanted to kill them both, but she would have to wait for a more satisfactory revenge. This was about Zhanna.
She rummaged through a closet opposite the tiny kitchen and found some duct tape. She bound the men’s hands and feet, placed a piece of tape over the mouths of both men, then pulled out her phone and called Patrick.
“Sam, you okay?”
“I’m fine. Come to the door of the deli on the corner across the street. I’ll let you in. If Zhanna is here somewhere, we need to find her fast.”
“On my way.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Barrow, Alaska, 2:53 p.m.
“Josiah! Do you hear me?!” King shouted again. Still no response.
There was a lot to juggle as he stood in the wrecked lobby of Volkov Mining—the room that had half a truck driven through it, dead bodies all around, and a deadly virus in a briefcase. On top of that, Josiah, King’s escort out of there, wasn’t responding after a truck had been coming his way outside, and he wanted to make sure Arnie got out of there alive as well. He couldn’t worry about all of it, so he had to take it one step at a time.
“Arnie!”
The chubby security guard walked out of the break room into the lobby. His face was red, but it was eager.
“You and Roger take the back way out of here. Get home, and stay there. Don’t worry about coming in for your shift tomorrow. No one will be working here for a while. Got it?”
“But what about the two—”
“Leave them. I have a team that will clean all this up. No more questions, just go. That’s an order.”
The official talk that he had used earlier with Arnie had worked, so he tried it again.
Arnie nodded, grabbed some keys from the desk, then left King and Kuznetsov alone in the lobby. That’s when King heard gunshots through his earpiece, seemingly coming from outside the demolished front entrance.
“Stay close, but stay behind me. Got it?” he said to Kuznetsov.
Kuznetsov nodded. King went over to the desk and slid on his coat. The cold air was overtaking the warm lobby, and he knew outside was only going to be worse. He ejected the AR-15’s magazine and gave it a look. There were still plenty of rounds inside. He locked it back in as he moved around the front of the truck stuck in the door space. Glass crunched beneath each step, and the frozen climate harshly welcomed him once he made it outside.
He and Kuznetsov were leaving a war zone. He’d hoped what lay ahead would be better, but the gunshots were still echoing near the gate, which he still couldn’t see. The road wound around to his left, and it was just on the other side of some trees. He scanned the area around him; it seemed to be safe. He opened the back passenger door of Kuznetsov’s SUV.
“Get in, and lie down in the back,” King told him.
Kuznetsov did as he was told, climbed in, and lay down on the floor as King walked around the front and jumped in. Then King wheeled the SUV around and pointed toward the gate.
“Josiah!”
Nothing. The gunshots had stopped as well.
“Josiah, if you can hear me, I’m coming in the SUV. Be ready to jump in!”
King floored it, and gravel spun up beneath the tires. Gunshots rang out again in his ear. He wheeled around the turn, and the tall iron gates came into view. Both the exit and entrance gates were closed. But there were no trucks blocking the path. He could see two men standing behind a Humvee. The truck was off the road and low on one end; King supposed Josiah had managed to shoot out a tire. It was clear they were firing guns across the road as King drew closer; he just couldn’t see what they were aiming at. All that mattered to him was that it wasn’t Josiah and his man before he tried to stop them shooting by running right over them. And he could tell by the hats they were wearing that it wasn’t.
King kept the p
edal to the floor as the SUV approached the gate.
“Hold on to something, this is going to get rough!” King said to Kuznetsov.
King held the gas pedal down right through the gate. The crash was loud, and the thump of the iron gate against the front of the SUV jolted the entire vehicle. King’s head bounced forward, but he managed to keep from connecting with the steering wheel. Immediately when the two men shooting from behind the Humvee heard the gate clash, they turned their guns toward King and the SUV. But it was too late. King was going almost seventy-five miles an hour. The impact when he ran over the two men was big, but not nearly as wild as the crash against the gate.
As soon as King was past the Humvee, and the two men were roadkill, he slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop on the gravel. He opened the door and jumped out, his AR-15 in hand. He brought it to his shoulder and scanned the area. The two men had been shooting toward one of their own trucks. And just before King could call out, Josiah walked out from behind the truck with his hands up.
“X? Oh, thank God. I thought I was a dead man!”
King lowered his gun and walked over to Josiah. He had blood all over him. “You hurt?”
“No, but Jerry . . .” Josiah looked back over his shoulder while shaking his head. “He got hit. I tried to keep the blood inside him. I just couldn’t. It was awful.”
Josiah was starting to get emotional. King could certainly feel his pain. He’d lost many friends over the years, but he was already focused forward, and they needed to get moving.
“I’m sorry, Josiah. But Cali is in danger. We have to go.”
Josiah’s eyes widened. He was hurting, but he didn’t want something to happen to Cali or his other two men at the airport.
Then they heard gravel being kicked up in the distance. Someone else was coming.
“Shit!” King said. “Let’s go. Now! You drive, I’ll shoot!”
He and Josiah raced to the SUV and jumped inside. King rolled down the window as Josiah put the car in drive and took off. King fully expected to see another Humvee rounding the corner. His plan was to shoot the driver’s side of the front windshield as soon as it came into view. He reached the gun out the window into the freezing cold air, but his adrenaline kept his body from registering the cold. He wrapped his finger around the trigger and readied himself.
“It’s my guys,” Josiah said. “Hold your fire, it’s my guys!”
King immediately brought the gun back inside and rolled up the window. An old Ford Bronco came racing around the curve. Josiah flashed his lights, and they both slowed to a stop and rolled the windows down.
“Follow me to the airport. We have to hurry!” Josiah shouted.
The Bronco whipped around and fell in behind their SUV.
“How the hell did you get out of there alive? I lost my earpiece when I dove for cover. I thought for sure you were a goner. Sorry I couldn’t help.”
“I had some help from another security guard. And I’d figured your earpiece came unplugged. I’m just glad I made it to you before those men advanced on you.”
“Poor Jerry. He was such a good guy, man.”
King was quiet. Experience told him no words could help, so he didn’t waste any. Instead he focused on the airport. If they could get out of there with their lives, he had to get to Moscow as fast as he could. But he didn’t know what to do with Kuznetsov and his briefcase package worth about a million deaths or more. He couldn’t leave him in Barrow, but if he took Kuznetsov along with him, he would drag King down. King needed to get to Sam as fast as possible, and he knew even that might be too late.
<<<<>>>>
Chapter Forty
Moscow, Russia, 1:54 a.m.
Before Sam left the apartment where she’d tied up the two men who’d tried to drug her at the bar, she took her gun from her coat, turned the television on, and hiked up the volume. The apartment complex was quiet, and even though she’d taped their mouths, the men groaning to be freed after being beaten up by a girl would have been loud enough for someone to hear. And because Sam hoped Zhanna was somewhere in that building, she figured someone was probably awake and standing guard. The last thing she wanted to do was alert whoever that might be.
She slinked down the stairs and back into the deli. The keys she took from Romeo number one upstairs unlocked the interior door. She went to the front door and let agent O’Connor inside. He was wide-eyed as he stepped in, and his hand was at the small of his back in case he needed his gun.
“It’s all right, I have them tied up.”
Patrick relaxed. “How’d you manage that?”
“I could have managed that even if I had actually been drugged. They weren’t exactly trained killers.”
Patrick looked impressed. “So, what now? Are these two guys even involved with why we’re here?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Sam said.
“You going to question them?”
Sam didn’t answer. She looked around the empty room. There was literally nothing but tile and empty walls. She walked over to an open doorway. It led to the kitchen. There wasn’t any equipment left, but there was a bright red lever on the wall with the word FIRE etched in white. Patrick walked in behind her. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Might actually work,” he said.
The trouble with it as Sam saw it was that even if someone was holding Zhanna hostage in that apartment complex, they couldn’t let her outside bound and gagged. Everyone would see. So they would most likely just keep Zhanna in the room while they went out to investigate if there was an actual threat of fire. Sam was sure she would be able to tell if someone was investigating in such a way. They would have a different look than the other dwellers who would be forced outside. For one, they would be fully clothed, not dressed in any sort of sleepwear. But even if multiple people actually took the time to dress, whoever was holding Zhanna would still have a more investigative vibe.
“I think it’s worth a shot,” Patrick said. “Let’s split up and see if we can find someone who comes out looking suspicious.”
“You know that’s a federal offense, pulling a fire alarm without cause.”
Patrick laughed. “Maybe you can get the president to get Putin to pardon me since y’all are buddies.”
Sam shrugged. Patrick walked over and pulled the fire alarm. A loud bell began ringing immediately. He and Sam rushed out the deli door. She pointed for him to go around front, and she went left around the back. Sam was cold without her coat, but she was determined. As people started filing out of the complex, she wrapped her arms around herself and searched each and every person. Couples, singles, old, and young continued out, all wearing the same sleepy but worried expression. Only a few people were fully dressed, and they were all young, still holding their drinks. There was no one behind the building who gave Sam the impression they were the person she was looking for. After a few moments of no one else exiting the building, she went around front.
She passed the deli door, and as soon as she rounded the corner, she noticed Patrick towering above the small crowd of people. He was a big guy, so it wasn’t hard. She also watched as he stared intently at something; clearly he’d found something to focus on. Finally, he looked over at her, then gave a nod of his head ahead of him. Sam looked that way and found a man with a black leather jacket pacing back and forth as he searched the crowd. As Sam started to move in his direction, she noticed a man with a set of keys walking her way. She didn’t know a lot about fires, but she did know that to stop the fire alarm from sounding, you had to have a key. If this man happened to be maintenance for the building, he might be walking to turn it off. If he did, it was the perfect scenario. It would keep the police from coming, and because the alarm was off, residents would be going back inside, which would give her and Patrick the opportunity to follow the man in the leather jacket back to whatever apartment he came from.
The man with the keys walked by her and opened the deli door. Sam waited and watched
the man who was still searching the crowd for a reason to be nervous. Maybe that was what he was doing. Sam didn’t have any real evidence he was involved with anything at that point. Just a hunch.
Finally, the ringing alarm went silent. A roar of applause from the cold residents sounded, and the man in the leather jacket began walking toward the main entrance at the middle of the building. Sam quickly stepped his way, avoiding people as best she could. Luckily, Patrick had moved in right behind him, and she couldn’t possibly lose sight of him as he was at least a head taller than everyone else.
She stayed close as they moved up the stairs. Everyone seemed convinced there was no fire. Lack of smoke and the alarm stopping had satisfied their fears. As they reached the top floor—the same floor Sam had subdued the other men—Leather Man stopped at a door and placed his key in the lock. Patrick kept casually strolling by. Leather Man looked her way, but there was another couple in between them. Then she watched as Leather Man stopped trying to unlock his door, and he reached for the small of his back.
Sam couldn’t shoot him. She had no real idea who he was or what he was doing. All she could think to do was pull her gun and shout at him.
“Freeze! Police!”
Leather Man wheeled around and put his hands in the air. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. Patrick turned around and rushed up behind him, taking his hands down and holding them behind his back. He shouted something in Russian at Sam. Sam just walked forward and unlocked the door. Leather Man had a pleading tone, but Sam couldn’t understand him. She pushed his door inward and held up her gun. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but there was no Zhanna tied to a chair like she’d hoped. All of them moved inside the apartment.
Alexander King Thriller Series: Books 1-3 Page 39