by Linda Ladd
Nothing about any of that sounded good. “You’re going to have to tell me more than this before I step a foot outside this room.”
“Just know that I am a friend to you. I also want to bring down the Senator and his criminal organization, for my own reasons. I think you can help me do that. Therefore, you are valuable to me. I don’t want you dead this early in the game.”
What the hell? Novak couldn’t decide whether or not to believe him. He couldn’t trust him; that was a given. He also knew Petrov would soon show up and put a bullet in him. He was the only witness to the cold-blooded execution of Justin Dalton, and could identify Vasily Petrov as the killer. Petrov would kill Lori next, a loose end that needed to be eliminated. She knew who was involved, and that was her death warrant, plain and simple.
“You’re thinking he’ll come with a silenced handgun and shoot you both in your beds. Right? But you’re wrong. That’s too risky for a man as careful as Vasily. They’ll make some kind of diversion, and while the nurses are busy, they’ll inject you with a special drug that kills in seconds, without leaving a trace at autopsy. They deal these kinds of drugs, so they’re handily available to him.”
“You’re Russian. Petrov is a Russian. How do I know you’re not working with him?”
“You don’t, of course. But ask yourself this, Novak: why would I sit here and wait for you to wake up? Why wouldn’t I have already injected you and your girlfriend? I’ve had plenty of time and the means to do it, with no one the wiser. If I wanted you dead, you’d have been dead the minute they put you inside this room.”
The guy was right. “Where do you want to take us? What safe house?”
The Russian did not hesitate. “No need to know the particulars. I have a secure place. It lies to the east of Blackwood’s horse pastures. It’s perfectly safe there. He and Petrov do not know of it.”
“I don’t think I want to be that close to those guys. You know, since they’re gunning for me.”
The Russian stared at him. Novak watched his face for signs of subterfuge. He didn’t see anything but a bland, serene expression. This guy looked and acted like a trained operative. He spoke like one, and had the cool confidence of a man who could take care of himself. Novak felt certain that’s exactly what he was. But the man was right. Novak needed to get Lori out of that hospital bed and somewhere safe. Her Jeep was totaled, and the Pentagon would send soldiers down to get it. All their possessions were now in the hands of the police. Once they were safely away from the hospital, Novak had easy access to money and plenty of it, in his offshore bank accounts. This man was telling the truth about one thing. He could have killed Novak while he was unconscious. Novak didn’t trust him, not one bit. He didn’t particularly want to go anywhere with him, but he wanted to get Lori out of the hospital before it was too late.
“Who are you? Why do you want to help us?”
“I suppose it does not matter if you know my name. I am Stepan Sokolov. I came here to help you, you can believe that. Maybe this will make you believe me.”
Novak watched him pull out a Ruger similar to the one that Petrov had used to shoot Justin in the head. He placed it on the blanket beside Novak’s hand. “Now you’re armed. If I make a move against you or the woman, you can shoot me. But I won’t harm you. I need your help more than you need mine, or I’d never take this big of a risk in coming here to rescue you.”
Novak was partly reassured. He’d wanted a weapon, and now he had one. He picked up the handgun, checked the magazine, and racked a shell into the chamber. Sokolov didn’t seem to mind.
“As I said, Novak, time is of the essence. We’re wasting it with all this idle chit-chat.”
That was true. “Okay, but don’t think for a second that I trust you.”
Sokolov actually laughed. “You think I trust you? I do not.”
Novak threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. A barrage of pain hit him. He winced, stood up, and staggered a little.
“I have medications on hand that will help your headaches. You both are going to have plenty of them, trust me, but your concussions are deemed moderate. I’ll take you up to the woman’s room in this wheelchair. That would be the best option.”
“I can walk.” Novak hoped that was true.
“The wheelchair would look more legitimate if a nurse such as myself is pushing a patient upstairs to visit his friend.”
“All right. Where are my clothes?”
“They probably cut them off you when you reached the ER. I stole some scrubs for you and the woman.”
Sokolov reached into a plastic bag and pulled out a green V-necked shirt and drawstring pants. “These will be too small for a man your size, but it’s the largest I could find. We can put a blanket over your legs.”
Ten minutes later, Sokolov was pushing him down the outside corridor. As they passed the nurse’s station, Sokolov smiled at the two nurses sitting behind the desk. They smiled back. “I’m taking Mr. Novak upstairs to see his friend. He wishes to make sure she’s okay. We won’t bother the lady, I promise. He only wishes to check on her.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, I can manage. Thank you very much. That is kind of you.”
The man had effortlessly changed his accent. Now he spoke in a deep Texas twang and sounded like an Amarillo cowpoke. Impressive. Novak kept the Ruger hidden under the blanket over his knees, but he had his finger on the trigger. His head was killing him again, pounding like a kettle drum. The painkiller was wearing off. He felt uncomfortably weak and more than a little disoriented, but tried to shake it off. He didn’t think this guy was there to kill them, but he could have been. Novak had to be ready if he tried something. It was after visiting hours, so the rooms they passed were dark, the corridors quiet.
Lori had been given a room a few doors from the elevator. When Sokolov rolled him inside, Novak stood up and braced a hand on the wall, trying to right his spinning equilibrium. He’d had worse concussions before, so he knew what it felt like. He’d live, especially given time to rest. He was more worried about Lori’s condition. She was in the bed, either asleep or unconscious. She was lying on her back. Her left arm was strapped tight against her chest with a dark blue sling. “I thought you said she had come to.”
“She did.”
“Is her arm broken?”
“No, it’s a dislocated shoulder that will heal. They put it back in place. Go over and wake her up. I’ll watch at the door. When they come for you, they’ll come at night, probably just before dawn. They’ll step inside this room, inject her with poison, and be gone in less than a minute.”
“You sound like you’ve done it before.”
Sokolov just shrugged.
Novak made his way to the bed. He leaned down close to Lori. Her face was as white as a summer clover and covered with small stitched-up cuts and dark bruises. She looked awful. “Lori,” he whispered. “C’mon, wake up.”
Lori opened her eyes. It took her a moment to focus on him. “Will? Thank God. We’ve got to get out of here. They’ll come for us. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m all right, just beat up a little, like you. How bad do you hurt?”
“I felt pretty rough at first, but they gave me painkillers to help my headaches. That air bag hit me like a concrete barrier.”
“You think you can walk?”
“I don’t know. I feel lightheaded when I move my head too fast. Who’s the guy by the door? He came in here earlier but left real quick when I tried to sit up.”
“I don’t know for sure yet, but he’s offered to help get us out of here. He told me Blackwood’s goons are going to show up any time, and he seems to know a lot about them.”
“Who is he?” she asked again. Her words slurred.
“Says his name is Stepan Sokolov.”
“Sounds Russian.”
“He says he is. I think he’s telling the truth. Probably GRU.”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him.”
“Me neither, but he knows a lot about Blackwood, and he says he’s on our side. He says he wants to bring the Senator down. We need to get out of here, in any case.”
“I’m not going to trust any Russians.”
“Let me help you get up. We’ve got scrubs for you to put on, but you better keep on that gown. It’s getting late. We need to go.”
“The nurse said cops were here earlier, waiting to question me.”
“Yeah, me, too. Another reason to get out now. Sokolov gave me a weapon, if that makes you feel better.”
“I’m too dizzy to think about it.”
“C’mon, let’s get you in the wheelchair.”
Lori’s body was sore, and she moaned every time she moved her dislocated shoulder, but Novak got her off the bed and helped her sit down in the wheelchair. Sneaking her past the nurses would be the problem. He didn’t even have time to get her out the door before a fire alarm blared on. The shrill siren wreaked havoc in his head. Lori groaned and held both hands over her ears.
“Sorry,” Sokolov told them, entering from the corridor. “We needed a distraction to get out of here unseen. Nobody will think a thing about us pushing her out in a wheelchair if there’s a fire alarm. Let’s go.”
Within minutes, people were emerging from their rooms, looking frightened. People were shouting and pandemonium was brewing. “There’s a fire in the kitchen, and the smoke is toxic,” Sokolov cried out to the nurses as he pushed Lori past them. “Get the patients downstairs to the parking lot, stat.”
That sent the nurses running. The three of them fit right in with the burgeoning frenzy. Nobody stopped them as a full evacuation went into effect. They got to the elevator first and rode it down to the lobby. Within minutes, they were outside in the parking lot while first-floor patients were wheeled out at every exit. Nobody noticed them or tried to stop them.
Sokolov led them to a white Range Rover that he unlocked with a key fob. Novak pushed Lori’s wheelchair with one hand, and steadied the gun in his other, ready to fire. He searched the cars around them and didn’t see anybody suspicious. Behind them, the hospital staff rushed about, and police sirens screamed somewhere off in the distance.
“We’ll ride in the back seat, and I’ll have this gun pointed at the back of your head the whole time,” Novak told Sokolov.
“You’re welcome,” the Russian said sarcastically. Then he laughed as he got in the driver’s seat. So he was a fun guy.
Novak glanced around as he helped Lori settle into the back. He hadn’t been kidding the Russian. He was armed now, and he would use the gun if this guy turned out to be one of Blackwood’s trigger men. So far, so good, though. Sokolov had gotten them out of that building with no questions asked. If Blackwood had ordered a hit inside their hospital rooms, they would be hard pressed to find them, unless the Russian was driving them straight to Petrov’s custody. He sat with his arm around Lori, the other clutching the Ruger. Lori was holding her head. If the guy turned out to be legit, he’d have to fill in the missing puzzle pieces, because Novak was too tired to figure out Sokolov’s angle.
Chapter 8
Stepan Sokolov kept up the friendly chatter, pretending they were long lost college buddies. Lori never said a word, just huddled under a blanket, her eyes closed, her head resting on Novak’s chest. She didn’t buy what the Russian was selling, not for a single second. Novak knew that without being told. He didn’t feel many friendly vibes, either. Instead, he kept himself alert, scanning the street behind them, all the while expecting a double-cross. Still, he did have a loaded weapon. He’d checked again. What Novak wanted was answers. Three blocks away from the hospital, he said, “Okay, Sokolov, we’re out now. Let’s hear the rest of your story.”
“Please call me Stepan.”
Novak wasn’t going to call him that. They weren’t friends and probably would never be. Novak turned again, looking for a carload of armed thugs. Sokolov remained on back streets that were dark and untraveled with everybody asleep. They drove north on I-95, retracing Novak’s route from the previous day. He tensed up considerably when they got on the road that took them back to Blackwood’s horse farm. But the Russian continued right past its entrance, drove about two miles farther along, and then turned onto a dirt road to their left. The acres around his safe house looked to be heavily wooded with bushes and overhanging branches scraping the sides and roof of the Range Rover. Minutes later they ended up at a rundown old farmhouse that seemed to be set down out in the middle of nowhere. Sokolov pulled up to the front steps, stopped the car, and identified the place as his little cottage in the forest. It was too dark to tell much about the house except it looked old, circa 1930s or 1940s, maybe. Like something out of The Grapes of Wrath. Novak didn’t care much about how it looked; he was more concerned with its proximity to Blackwood’s estate and all the armed men milling around there. Novak gripped the Ruger tighter, tensed up and on edge, fearing he’d made a serious mistake in judgment. Still, instinct told him Sokolov could be trusted, at least for the moment.
Novak opened the back door and helped Lori out. She was weak and wobbly on her feet, and shivering all over. He wrapped the thermal blanket around her shoulders, but she refused to be carried. She still complained of an awful headache. Then she told him she was fine, but she wasn’t okay, not even close. Keeping a cautious eye on Sokolov, Novak led her up the three steps onto the tiny front porch. The Russian had gone ahead. They waited while he unlocked and pushed the door open. Stepping back, he gestured for them to precede him.
“Don’t think so. You go first.”
“You will soon realize that I am no enemy to you. You need an ally right now, and I am the only one you can trust.”
“I’ll wait for you to prove that.”
“You are wise to be cautious, but you’re a bit overly so.”
Novak didn’t respond. Sokolov walked inside and flipped on a ceiling light. The attached five-bladed fan began to rotate slowly before gaining momentum. Novak stood in the threshold and examined the room, found it non-threatening, then led Lori to an easy chair near the front door. It was not exactly warm inside the house, but it felt better than the cold night wind channeling through the treetops. The interior looked shabby. The walls appeared to have been painted and repainted, papered and repapered, over and over, for decades. Some owners had done better jobs than others, considering the multitude of paint stains on the old hardwood floor. The boards squeaked with every footfall, but that usually came in handy when being stalked by killers. Novak’s body ached in every single muscle. It was screaming to lie down and rest. So was his head. Lori kept shivering, and looked a sickly shade of white. He hoped to God he hadn’t made a mistake by taking her out of that hospital too soon.
“We’ve got to get her to bed and let her rest,” he said.
“Yes, that is true. She does not look so good, does she, my friend? But she will feel better in the morning.” Sokolov hovered close to them like a nervous landlord. He looked concerned, but that could be easily faked. “You’ll both feel better tomorrow. There is a guest bedroom just over there. The bed is comfortable, and the linens are fresh.”
“You sayin’ you have guests out here?”
“At times I have friends who come visit.”
“What friends?”
“You wouldn’t know them.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet I wouldn’t. Is anybody supposed to turn up tonight or any time soon?”
“No, rest assured, you are perfectly safe here. Please, go now, let your woman rest. My room is upstairs.” He flung his arm out in a vague gesture at the enclosed stair to his left. The door that led to it was standing open. “The lock on your bedroom door works,” he continued. “I will give the woman a weapon, as well, if sh
e feels insecure while here. They won’t find us, though, I swear that to you. I’ve been using this house for months. No one from the farm has questioned my presence here. I will put my hand on my Bible and swear it to you.”
“Funny, I wouldn’t peg you as a religious man.”
“I am a Russian Orthodox Christian. I attended church regularly as a boy. My mother was a godly woman. Then I was in espionage for so long that I lost faith in all things for a time.”
Novak considered lying down with Lori and getting some rest. Any car approaching could be heard out here in the quiet woodland. Stealthy men approaching through heavy woods on foot would be a much different story. No way would he get much sleep tonight.
“Please, the woman is shaky. Take her in there and let her lie down. Her color does not look so healthy.”
Novak decided Lori would be safe enough behind a locked bedroom door with him armed and sitting beside her. While Sokolov got busy arranging kindling for a fire in the old red brick fireplace, Novak opened the door to the small bedroom and checked it out for surprises. The walls were covered with old-fashioned wallpaper: a pattern of red roses and violets intertwined with white lace ribbons. It reminded Novak of a room inside the mansion he’d inherited on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. In this room, the paper was peeling off in places, but everything looked clean, including the white sheets and down comforter. There was a side table beside the bed and a blond dresser with a round mirror spotted and darkened by age.
Lori sagged on her feet, pretty much at the end of her rope. Novak picked her up and carried her to the bed. He threw back the covers and placed her down gently. He covered her up, and she rolled onto her good side and closed her eyes. He took a minute to check out the closet, then peered out both locked windows, taking a last look at her before he rejoined Sokolov. The Russian had finished building the fire, and the logs were burning hot. Novak moved closer and warmed his back to the flames, keeping a close eye on the Russian.