Chapter 15

15

May 11, 10:25 P . M . MSK

Moscow, Russian Federation

How did Mikhailov find us?

The question burned brightly in Gray's mind, but the priority was to get everyone to safety. With the first rocket blast, Gray had burst to his feet—or tried to. Pain shot up his left leg from his ankle. He caught himself on the table's edge.

On the far side, Monk and Jason gathered Bailey and the two members of the Russian Church. A pained glance to Gray's left showed Tucker rushing out of the conference room, guarding over Dr. Stutt, flanked by his two dogs. The former Army Ranger had reacted with lightning reflexes, protecting the charge given to him, likely feeling responsible for hauling Elle here, for putting her in danger again.

Tucker's instincts—while well-intentioned—were going to get them both killed.

Monk spotted this, too. "I'll fetch them."

"No." Gray pointed to the others. "Get everyone to safety."

He headed toward the door, pulling free his SIG Sauer. He cursed himself for not warning Tucker of the team's contingency plan. Beyond the embassy's grounds being considered sacrosanct territory of the Holy See, the building's history had its own secrets—known only by a handful of the staff.

And certain members of the Vatican intelligenza .

Father Bailey strode quickly to the room's back wall. He pushed on a panel, and it popped open, revealing it to be a secret door, similar to the one that hid the embassy's communication hub. But this panel didn't open into a room. Behind it was a steel vault-like door.

Bailey reached for its electronic lock, which glowed an angry red, and swiped a black titanium card across it, a gift from the ambassador. The lock flashed green, and the large bolts that sealed the door slid away.

Bailey swung the door wide, exposing stone steps heading down. Lights flickered on. The staircase led into the labyrinthine tunnels beneath Moscow, the same maze where the cache of books had been discovered. The Vatican's century-old building, prior to being gifted to the Holy See, had been the Markin Mansion. As with many places of prominence built during that volatile period, it had incorporated a secret back door, taking advantage of those subterranean tunnels to use them for their original purpose—as a means of escape in times of emergency.

Like now.

"This way!" Bailey urged his two colleagues.

Gray reached the main door and called back to Monk and Jason. "If I'm not back in ten, lock that hatch. We'll regroup at our secondary safehouse."

Monk did not look happy with this plan, but they had civilians to safeguard. "What about Kowalski and Seichan? I can't reach either of them on the radio."

Gray headed out. "I'll check on them, too."

By now, the fierce firefight had died to sporadic bursts. The all-out assault had turned into a siege as assailants set about clearing the building, surely hunting for Gray and the others. From the sounds of battle, the Italian security guards continued to engage the intruders.

Hopefully, their efforts would buy Gray enough time to collect the others and retreat below.

He paused at the stairwell up to the main floor.

Tucker's trail was not hard to follow. Gray heard gunfire echoing above, accompanied by savage growling. In the past, Gray had witnessed Tucker's lethal efficiency—and that was when he only had Kane.

Now with two dogs...

No wonder the Ranger set off on his own with Elle.

Gray edged upward, climbing through a choking pall of smoke. Upon reaching the rear lobby, he saw four bodies sprawled across the floor. Beyond them, the door out to the parking lot had been hit by a rocket blast. The exit was blocked by a pile of rubble.

Gray turned and headed for the main floor.

A deafening barrage of gunfire burst ahead of him. He didn't know if it was Tucker or other defenders of this castle. Smoke grew thicker. Fires glowed in the distance.

Taking advantage of the momentary cover, he ducked into the next hall, intending to check on his other teammates. The hallway ended at the embassy's security nest. He sidestepped another two bodies—a guardsman and a combatant in black body armor. The floor was slick with blood, challenging his bad ankle.

Ahead, the door into the security room was ajar.

Had the others abandoned it?

He crept low and nudged it open with a palm, while keeping his SIG trained forward. A gunshot rang out. A round ricocheted off the doorframe and buzzed his ear. Gray ignored it and dove low, knocking the door wider. He slid on his shoulder across the floor and aimed his pistol where he expected the sniper to be from the bullet's trajectory.

But the shooter had already moved, anticipating this.

A large shadow loomed farther to the right, limned against the row of static-filled security monitors. A huge gun reflected the meager light.

Gray shifted his aim.

A harsh voice called to him, "Don't shoot."

It wasn't a command, only an urgent warning.

Gray forced his finger to relax on his gun's trigger. He recognized the accent and the scarred profile as the man leaned down.

"Yuri..."

The Russian security chief helped him up. "I retreated here when all hell broke loose."

Gray gained his feet and searched around. "The others?"

"No sign."

Needing some intel, Gray crossed to the bay of CCTV monitors. They all ran with static. Valya had knocked out all the exterior cameras.

What about those inside?

He flipped switches to the interior cameras. Many of them were also down, but a few screens showed views of the mansion. Smoke obscured several of the cameras, but he caught sight of a large form shambling down a staircase from the third level.

Kowalski...

The view also showed what awaited him below.

Oh, no...

10:28 P . M .

Kowalski leaned a large palm on the wall, struggling to stay upright. He clutched his Desert Eagle in his other hand, but it felt like an anchor. His vision remained watery. His hearing was muffled, as if he had been dropped down a well.

And I almost was.

While spying upon the neighboring apartment building, he had spotted the smoky blast from an RPG launcher. As the grenade rocketed his way, he dove for cover. Fire and glass exploded behind him, blowing out all the windows along this side of the embassy. The blast threw him hard against the wall. Between the concussion of the detonation and the blow to his head, he passed out for several breaths. The world had gone dark, then returned, all muted and wobbly.

He had gained his feet and stumbled away from the spreading fires, intent to join the others and, if possible, get a little payback.

As he descended, he rubbed blood from an eye, squinting through the stinging smoke. The arm holding up the Desert Eagle slowly sank.

Still, he noted the smoke stir near the bottom of the steps. He caught the glimpse of a figure in body armor. He fired before the assailant came fully into view. His Desert Eagle's fifty-cal rounds needed little precision. It was a weapon meant to inflict maximum damage.

The weapon blasted and bucked in his hand.

The body below got knocked back, wafting the smoke enough to reveal the ruins of a successful headshot.

Unfortunately, the fierce recoil of his handgun ripped the weapon from his weakened fingers. The Eagle fell and toppled down the steps—landing at the toes of a second man in black armor who appeared from the stairwell's opposite side.

An assault rifle pointed up the steps.

Kowalski had nowhere to go.

He raised his empty hands and flipped the guy two birds.

"Screw you."

The bastard savored his kill. " Nyet , screw—"

A large shadow struck the man from the side, taking him down hard. A bloodcurdling cry erupted from him. The shadow thrashed atop him, ripping into his throat until that scream became a gurgle, then silence.

"R ELEASE ," came a familiar command.

Kowalski stumbled down the rest of the steps to meet Tucker. Kane leaped off the dead man, tossing his furry head, shaking blood from his muzzle. Behind him, Elle Stutt stayed close, her eyes huge. Marco kept tight to her side.

Kowalski struggled to clear his addled head. "What're you—"

"They've got the exits covered on the first floor," Tucker warned. "With heavy fighting. But there's a second-story balcony on the side of the building, over an alley, with a fire escape leading down. This way."

Tucker snatched up the dead man's rifle and headed off.

Kowalski hurried to follow, stopping to collect his pistol from the floor.

After crisscrossing several passageways, they reached a set of French doors leading out to an iron balcony. Kowalski watched the hall behind them, while Tucker searched below.

"Looks clear at the moment," he whispered.

"Let's hope we get more than a moment," Kowalski muttered.

Tucker flipped a deadbolt and edged the door open enough to slip out. He kept low and surveilled the dark, narrow alley. He then waved to Kowalski.

"You first."

"Why me?"

"You're barely on your feet," he keenly noted. "And someone has to secure that alleyway—someone who's also good at catching."

Kowalski bit back a groan, glancing over to Kane and Marco.

No way those two are climbing down a fire escape.

Out on the balcony, Tucker pulled the release and dropped the ladder to the alley floor. It clattered loudly, making them all wince.

Tucker waited to make sure the noise hadn't been noticed. When no alarm was raised, he stepped aside. Kowalski holstered his sidearm, squeezed past Tucker, and mounted the ladder. He clambered down and dropped heavily to the ground. He retreated to the side of a tall trash bin and did his best to watch both ends of the alley.

Elle followed next, half sliding down the ladder's length.

Once she was on the ground, he pushed her into the deeper shadows and stepped below the balcony. It was not a high drop from the second story, but Kowalski still wobbled on his feet. His arms felt leaden.

"Ready?" Tucker hissed down at him.

"As I'll ever be," he groused.

Never thought my new job at Sigma would be as a dogcatcher.

Above, a furry shadow appeared at the top of the ladder. Kowalski braced his legs and held out his arms.

"M ARCO , JUMP ," Tucker ordered his partner.

The dog hesitated, shifting nervously. The shepherd was only eleven months old, still a newbie in his training, with little to no field experience. Kowalski felt for the big lug, but they were running out of time.

"Just push him," Kowalski suggested.

Tucker ignored him. "You can do this, boy," he said with a calm assurance that spoke to a depth of patience that was beyond Kowalski. "J UMP , M ARCO ."

Likely drawing confidence from Tucker's tone more than his words, Marco made that leap of faith.

Kowalski grimaced, knowing Tucker would shoot him if he failed in this effort. Marco's body hit his arms. The dog's weight tossed him back. He hit his backside hard, but he kept hold of Marco in his lap.

"You okay?" Tucker called down quietly.

Marco panted, turned, and gave Kowalski's nose a fast lick. Kowalski shoved him off, but Marco appeared unoffended by his rejection and wagged his tail vigorously.

Kowalski took a page out of Tucker's book and patted the dog's side. "Good boy."

The tail wagged wider.

Kowalski held out his arms. "Next."

Behind him, Elle gasped out a warning, "On your left."

Responding to the panic in her voice, Kowalski ducked and hurried over to her with Marco. A cluster of seven men appeared at the end of the alley, all decked in body armor and helmets, moving fast.

Likely an enemy patrol.

Kowalski retreated out of view. He didn't believe they had been spotted, but the men would be upon their hiding spot in seconds.

Above, Tucker balanced his assault rifle on the balcony railing. Like Kowalski, he knew a firefight was inescapable. Their only advantage was surprise. Kowalski stared up, waiting for Tucker's signal. From his hiding spot, Kowalski had no sightline.

Tucker rested his cheek against the stock of his weapon.

Kowalski dropped to a knee, preparing to shoot low, while Tucker rained hellfire from above. He continued to stare upward.

C'mon...

Tucker finally gave a small nod.

Upon that signal, Kowalski leaned out with his weapon extended. He immediately got a bead on a target and fired. The man flew back. From on high, Tucker unleashed a merciless barrage. Another three men dropped under the assault.

But the element of surprise was over.

Return fire forced Tucker off the balcony. The remaining men took shelter: flattening behind low walls, ducking near trash barrels, retreating to the far corner of the alley.

Kowalski fired at one man who was too slow, felling him with a leg shot, then sending a second round through his throat. He had no time to target another combatant.

Bullets peppered into the trash bin, sparking off the rusted metal.

He ducked back for a breath.

Tucker took over, strafing toward one of the assailants hidden behind a low wall. Kowalski had no view, but he heard the man's cry, followed by a death rattle.

Another down... two to go.

The odds had evened out.

Kowalski allowed himself a glimmer of hope.

Stupid mistake.

Elle clutched his elbow, while holding fast to Marco's collar. "Behind us."

Kowalski swung around. A large truck veered into view at the other end of the alley. It braked hard. From the open rear passenger window, the black tube of an RPG launcher shoved out.

Not again...

His head still pounded from the last rocket attack.

Kowalski gained his legs and fired at the truck. The rounds spidered the driver's side window and ricocheted off the metal. He knew he couldn't do any real damage—only buy time.

But would it be enough?

10:34 P . M .

Concentrating on the two targets still in the alley, Tucker had failed to identify the new threat—not until the gunmen burst out of hiding and fled away. He heard Kowalski's Eagle booming below. But it wasn't his gunfire that had driven the pair off.

A glance back revealed a Russian truck blocking the far end of the alley. He also spotted the RPG launcher. Below, Kowalski dragged Elle up. The big man fired blindly at the vehicle while rushing out of hiding.

Tucker twisted around and strafed at the truck, but he had a poor angle upon it. While the RPG launcher bobbled under his onslaught, it settled quickly again.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kowalski clear the bin—but rather than running past it, he flipped its heavy lid, which banged open against the brick wall behind it. He picked up Elle and threw her inside, then grabbed Marco. The dog, not understanding, struggled in his arms.

Tucker continued his barrage at the truck, knowing that what was coming was inevitable.

Move it, Kowalski...

The big man leaped headlong into the bin, rolling sideways with Marco in his arms. They hit the cushioning trash that filled the space. A large arm reached up and yanked the lid closed with a resounding clank.

Just in time.

A loud huffing bang erupted below. Smoke burst out of the vehicle's open windows. The grenade struck several yards behind the trash bin—its aim thrown off by Tucker's onslaught.

Still, compressed by the narrow alley, the blast wave sent the bin cartwheeling and rolling down the alley. Tucker got tossed hard into the balcony doors.

As he scurried back, dark smoke smothered the alley, obscuring his view. Still, he saw men swarming the trash bin. It lay on its side, its lid fallen open. Kowalski was dragged out, limp and unmoving. They hauled him toward another truck that rushed into view at that end.

If they're moving him, he must still be alive.

But for how long?

Elle crawled out, then hands grabbed her, too. She gestured wildly, batting at the men. She momentarily broke free and rushed to the bin, not to seek shelter, but to pull Marco out. The dog stumbled a few steps, then shook off the worst of the tumbling. He kept close to Elle, still following the order to protect her.

His hackles rose, and he growled at the commotion.

Rifles leveled at the dog.

No...

Tucker flashed to when he had lost his other dog Abel—Kane's brother—during a firefight in Afghanistan. Panic narrowed his vision, choked his throat, leaving him momentarily paralyzed.

Not again...

But Elle dropped in front of Marco, sheltering the dog's body with her own. She yelled, getting the others to back off. Tucker couldn't make out what she said, but he knew the enemy wanted her, had been seeking to coerce her into cooperating.

Had she parlayed that into keeping Marco safe?

He couldn't know.

Still, she succeeded.

The pair were led at gunpoint toward the waiting truck.

Movement drew Tucker's attention below. Men had bailed out of the first vehicle. One shouldered the RPG launcher, already re-armed with another rocket. Free of the confines of the truck, the shooter swung his weapon toward the balcony.

Tucker twisted around.

"K ANE , RUN! W ITH ME! "

Tucker burst through the French doors and sprinted down the hallway.

Kane raced at his side.

The grenade struck the balcony in a brilliant flash. Smoke burst past them. Bricks and twisted iron clattered into the hallway. The concussion threw him far, sending him sliding over the tile floor.

He came to a stop near the mouth of a stairwell.

Kane rolled up next to him, then quickly clambered to his paws.

As Tucker pushed to his hands and knees, he heard boots pounding up the steps ahead of him. He reached for his rifle, knowing he only had a few rounds left.

He pointed to an open doorway on the left.

"H IDE ," he ordered Kane.

Together, they retreated out of direct sight.

A moment later, a clutch of dark figures rushed into view on the steps.

Taking advantage of the smoke's cover, Tucker dropped to his belly and fired at those in front. Men tumbled back into the others, but the confusion lasted only moments. Curses in Russian spat his way. The enemy quickly regrouped on the stairs and shot back at him, using their dead as shields.

Tucker did his best to conserve his ammunition, but his magazine quickly emptied. He rolled to his hip and pulled out his Makarov PMM pistol. He had already reloaded its eight-round box magazine, but it would never be enough to hold off the remaining force on the stairs.

He had only one option left.

Take out as many as I can.

He extended his arm, cradling the pistol in his hands.

Then a new barrage erupted from the stairwell, sounding savage and fierce. Body-armored figures burst into view, fleeing from the threat behind them. Tucker aimed at those who fell into his sights and squeezed his trigger, dropping man after man.

He was down to his last round when no one else rose out of the stairwell.

He waited.

Eventually, two figures crept into view.

Tucker sighed with relief, then called from his position. "Gray... Yuri..."

The pair abandoned their caution and hurried forward.

Tucker rose to meet them, with Kane at his heels.

Gray cast his gaze around, quickly assessing the situation. "Where's Dr. Stutt?"

"Captured." Tucker clenched a fist. "Along with Kowalski... and Marco."

Gray absorbed this, showing no reaction. "Then we need to get clear of here."

This was reinforced by the rising scream of sirens in the distance.

Tucker stepped forward, then retreated. "I need to find where they're taking the others."

Gray turned on a heel, anger slipping into his voice. "You can't find them if you're dead."

Yuri grabbed Tucker's arm. "He's right, my friend."

Tucker allowed himself to be led back toward the basement. Fires raged everywhere, burning throughout the old building. They ran into two other combatants, who appeared to be fleeing, likely ordered to evacuate as the Russian authorities closed in. Those last two never made it out of the building.

Back in the conference room, Tucker noted the steel door at the far end. Bodies lay on the floor. All in combat gear. Monk stood shielded in the threshold, but relaxed when he saw who had arrived.

Monk checked his wristwatch. "I gave you an extra two minutes before locking up."

Gray clapped him on the shoulder, then turned to the others. "Everyone get below."

Yuri headed down, followed by Kane. When Tucker passed Gray, the commander grabbed his arm as the door was sealed behind them. Tucker expected to be berated, deserved to be.

I lost Elle, Kowalski, and Marco.

Tucker waved at the stairs. "I... I didn't know you had an exit strategy."

"There's merit to being a team player. If you'd stuck around long enough to find out..."

Tucker shook off his grip, as frustrated as Gray about the situation. He could not hold back his anger, stoked by loss and fear. "And you could've said something sooner, rather than waiting for a firefight to break out."

Gray stared him down, then sighed in acknowledgment. "That's not why I stopped you."

"Then what?"

Gray stared at the door, expressing aloud his own fear. "Have you seen any sign of Seichan?"