Chapter 22

22

May 12, 8:53 A . M . MSK

Sergiyev Posad, Russian Federation

Elle cringed and ducked as a large blast echoed from above, cutting through the gunplay and momentarily silencing it. She straightened and clutched harder to Marco's leash, keeping the beast between her and the archpriest. The young dog panted, clearly stressed and exhausted.

And he was not the only one under duress.

To the side, Kowalski was marched out of his cell at gunpoint. He held his hands atop his head.

"Down on your knees," Valya ordered him.

"If you're going to shoot me, I'd rather stand. Got bad joints."

The woman behind him—a mercenary named Nadira—looked ready to take him up on that offer. She lifted her pistol toward the back of his head.

"Stop!" Elle yelled.

Sychkin held up a hand. "A moment of patience, please." His eyes never left Elle. "I had hoped for a more leisurely conversation this morning, Dr. Stutt. To convince you to aid us in the days ahead."

"How? How do you think I can help you?" She did her best to look confused, but she knew damned well what he wanted of her.

He raised a leatherbound book. Its cover was leafed in gold. A finger held a page open. He parted it and displayed a spread of drawings that she had been shown before.

Her fingers tightened on Marco's leash.

"What do you make of this?" he pressed her, clearly testing her.

She knew this was an exam she must not fail. Especially as it wasn't only her life in the balance. Recognizing this, she saw no reason to lie.

She peered at the page. "It looks to be a rendition of a Dionaea muscipula variant, some carnivorous hybrid or ancestor of the Venus flytrap." She raised her gaze to Sychkin. "Possibly from the lost continent of Hyperborea."

She enjoyed the shocked look on his face.

He turned to Valya. "So, you were right about Monsignor Borrelli spreading the secrets of this book."

"I never doubted it," the pale woman said stiffly. She pointed her black-handled dagger at Kowalski. "As such, it's best we deal with these nuisances before matters sour further."

Sychkin agreed. "Definitely before we discover the Golden Library."

Nadira raised her pistol again.

"Wait," Elle called out.

Sychkin eyed her with irritation.

"If you harm any of them—" She looked down at Marco, then over to Kowalski. "I won't help you."

"I believe I can persuade you otherwise." Sychkin motioned to Yerik. "He can be quite convincing."

The monk remained deadpan and expressionless—which was far more terrifying than some leering threat.

"That... that will take time," Elle stuttered nervously. "And I'll serve you far better as a willing participant."

Sychkin lifted a hand and combed fingers through his beard. "I can appreciate that, so I will grant this largesse," he slowly stated. "On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You may pick one . To leverage your cooperation. I see no need to keep both ." He stared hard at her. "You still have some distance to travel today, Dr. Stutt. So, tell me, which of these two will accompany you on this journey?"

She balked at making this decision. From the dark gleam in the archpriest's eyes, he savored his cruelty.

To delay matters, she pressed the man. "Where are you taking me?"

Apparently, she wasn't the only one wondering this.

Yerik stepped forward with his brows pinched, as if he had the same question. Clearly, this journey was news to the monk. Their plans for the day must be rapidly changing due to the attack. Yerik signed to Sychkin with crisp movements of his arms, followed by hand gestures, as if he were spelling something out.

" Da, " Sychkin acknowledged him. "I'll have you escort Dr. Stutt, while I oversee the continuing search at the Lavra. Until we deal with these interlopers, I don't think it's wise keeping her so close. Captain Turov can secure her until she's needed." He turned to Elle. "We certainly don't want to lose you again."

Elle swallowed, gripping Marco's leash.

Sychkin's gaze swung between Kowalski and the dog. "Now, back to the matter of your decision, Dr. Stutt."

She backed a step. "I... I can't."

He feigned a sympathetic look. "I don't understand. I thought the choice would be an easy one. You'd truly balance a dog's life against this tall fellow?"

She knew the archpriest was right. Still, she stared down at Marco. As if sensing her attention, the shepherd glanced up at her with dark caramel eyes. All night long, Marco had kept beside her, even sharing her cot—but not to sleep. As she drowsed, the dog had never stirred, his head up, his ears tall, guarding over her.

Beyond her affection and appreciation for Marco, she also felt a responsibility for him, especially knowing Tucker's attachment to the dog. Marco was as much a brother to the man as any family member.

Kowalski coughed, drawing her eye, as if to plead his case to pick him. With his arms still above his head, he motioned at her in a strange, palsied manner.

Next to her, Marco whined, his neck stiffening. She stared down. His body trembled all over. She reached to him, but he collapsed under her—first to his chest, then to his side. His legs kicked in a hard convulsion, then went slack.

She dropped beside him. "Marco..."

8:57 A . M .

With everyone's attention on the dog, Kowalski lashed out. He swung his raised arm down and slammed his elbow into the woman behind him. He struck Nadira hard in the midriff, aiming for her solar plexus.

As she choked and fell backward, he spun and nabbed the MP-446 Viking from her hand. Kowalski squeezed off three rounds in fast succession, striking the security team gathered behind her before they could react.

Chaos broke out.

Kowalski ducked and whistled, swinging back around.

Marco leaped to his feet, guarding Elle with savage snarls.

The dog was quite the ham.

Tucker had once explained that the best tool of an extraction team—the duo's specialty—was a perfectly timed distraction. Still, when Kowalski had hand-signaled Marco to PLAY DEAD , he hadn't expected the dog to be so dramatic about it. Then again, the exaggerated display was likely purposeful, a tool of distraction when needed.

Kowalski grabbed for Elle's arm.

Unfortunately, such a distraction—even a perfectly timed one—only lasted for so long.

Especially when faced by a skilled opponent.

As Kowalski reached for Elle, Valya lunged forward and drove her dagger through his forearm. He reflexively yanked his limb back, ripping the blade's handle out of her grip.

Disarmed, with her other limb in a sling, Valya bowled into Elle, driving the botanist away from him and into the grip of Yerik.

The huge man snatched an arm around Elle's waist and carried her away, toward a passageway behind them. He used her as a shield, protecting Sychkin, who cowered behind the mute giant.

Valya and Nadira hurried with them.

Kowalski raised his pistol, but he hesitated, fearing he would hit Elle.

Any further choice was taken from him as gunshots ripped around him, coming from the remaining two guardsmen. The pair had collected themselves amidst the chaos.

Forced away from the tunnel, Kowalski backpedaled, returning fire. He retreated into his cell, where he was pinned down.

But his other teammate wasn't.

Marco had withdrawn toward the far passageway, likely still adhering to Tucker's original order to protect Elle—or maybe the dog's instinct to guard the woman was intuitive, born of a bond that had been clearly growing between them.

Either way, the dog was in the line of fire and had no Kevlar vest to protect him.

Kowalski bellowed to Marco, reinforcing Tucker's original command, trusting Elle to keep the dog safe. "G UARD PRIMARY ! S TAY CLOSE !"

Still, Marco hesitated, shifting on his legs.

"G O ON , DAMN IT !"

It wasn't one of the commands Tucker had taught Kowalski, but it did the job.

Marco spun and headed after Elle.

Kowalski returned his full attention to the two shooters. They had spread out, covering the cell door from two angles, which made one thing clear.

Not getting out of here any time soon.

Which was a problem.

He kept his pistol raised and tried to ignore the blood pouring over the fingertips of his other hand.

Valya's dagger was still impaled through his forearm.

8:59 A . M .

Seichan lay sprawled under the smoking ruins of the bed. She pointed her rifle toward the door. To one side, the nightstand that had sheltered her during the grenade blast was a pile of kindling. Its marble top—two inches thick—had cracked in half, but it had saved her life.

If not my hearing.

Her ears rang in a continual hum.

Following the detonation, she had used the smoke to roll into hiding, turning the ruins of the bed into a makeshift sniper's nest. She now had a direct line of fire through the door. Four bodies lay out in the hall, but there were more combatants, as evidenced by the occasional potshots into the room.

As of yet, between the smoke and her concealment in the bedding, no one had fixed her new position. She bided her time but knew she had to move. Someone would eventually lob another grenade in here.

And I have no other place to hide.

She did, though, have another possible exit , but to reach it would leave her exposed. She stared near the door, where a crater had been blasted through the floor to the level below. The opening was barely larger than her waist, all surrounded by jagged floorboards.

She'd prefer not to have to use that escape route.

But I may have no choice.

A buzzing vibration suddenly irritated her left ear, as if a gnat had flown in there.

But it was no annoying fly.

It was her radio earpiece.

Through the ringing from the blast, she made out a few words.

" ... where are you? "

It was Tucker.

She palmed her throat mike, pressing it more firmly. "Third floor. South wing."

She waited for a response, but it either didn't come, or she was deaf to it.

What she did hear was the massive BOOM that shook the entire mansion. The ceiling cracked overhead, shaking down dust. A gout of flames burst up the main stairs at the end of the hall.

One of the combatants fled into view, attempting to escape.

She shot him in the back.

Smoke quickly flooded into the hallway, obscuring everything.

Knowing this would be her best chance, she crawled out of hiding and crossed to the crater in the floor. But the opening was narrower than she had thought.

She dropped to a knee—as a round burned across the crown of her head.

She ducked lower as two combatants ran toward her, shedding the smoke around them.

She swung her rifle up, but two sharp retorts blasted out in the hall.

Both men collapsed, shot from behind.

Through the smoke, Yuri appeared, running forward. His words were muffled, but she made them out. "Been radioing nonstop. Luckily, I was in this wing when you replied."

She pointed to her ears, but before she could explain, Yuri helped her up.

"Need to get going," he said. "Tucker blew the boiler. Flames are spreading fast."

She found her voice. "What about the others? Kowalski? The botanist?"

"Don't know. Let's hope they weren't in the basement. Tucker failed to account for the size of Russian gas pipes and a century-old boiler. A bad combination. In winter, we lose many houses that way."

Seichan stared below, a question foremost in her mind.

Where the hell are the others?

9:03 A . M .

Kowalski pushed himself off the floor of his cell.

Smoke choked him, filling the space.

What the hell?

He had been finishing a volley of return fire and ducking into cover when a thunderous blast had shaken the mansion to its foundations. Out of the corner of his eye, he had caught sight of a steel door, likely the one sealing off this subbasement, flying and rebounding wildly off the walls.

It struck a gunman stationed at the bottom, decapitating him.

A wall of flames followed, blasting across the main room.

Kowalski had rolled aside, dropped into a fetal position, and covered his head. Still, the heat had come close to parboiling him—and might still.

Have to get out of here.

He crawled to the door and searched outside the cell.

Through the smoke, he spotted a second body blown against the far wall. The man's clothing still burned. He turned toward the tunnel where Sychkin's group had fled. He hoped Elle and Marco had been far enough away when the world had exploded.

He squinted in that direction.

But where did that tunnel lead?

9:04 A . M .

With his pistol in hand, Tucker headed through the smoke-choked basement. Flames burned all around. The heat was blistering. He searched for any sign of the others, though if they were down here, he'd be identifying bodies.

He cursed himself, breathing hard—and not because of the foul air.

What have I done?

Yuri had already radioed in. He and Seichan were headed down to aid in the search. They would not have much time. Though it had only been twenty minutes since the start of the attack, there was little leeway left. With a military detachment stationed by the Trinity Lavra, the response to the blast would be swift. He had to hope that the prior firefight, which was mostly limited to the interior of the mansion, had not been reported.

As he continued across the ruins, he spotted an open doorway through the smoke.

Steps led downward.

Into a subbasement.

Such a level hadn't been on the floorplans for this place. Plainly, the Sychkin family was good at keeping secrets.

Hope flared inside him.

If the others had been kept down there—

A loud growl of a throaty engine drew his attention. The noise rose from outside, coming from the parking lot. Another engine joined it.

He could guess what that meant.

No...

He swung around and ran through the smoke toward the back steps. The exterior door had been blasted loose. It hung by one hinge. He climbed through the wreckage as a pair of black SUVs barreled out of the garage and sped toward the gate, which rolled open ahead of the vehicles.

Tucker leaped the steps as the vehicles swept past. He spotted Elle in a backseat. She hugged a dog in her lap.

Marco...

The vehicles didn't slow as they hit the street and careened away.

I can't lose them.

He raced to one of the bodies on the parking lot. He skidded through the blood and patted down the man's pockets. He prayed there were keys to one of the vehicles.

As Tucker pawed at a breast pocket, the nearest G-wagon chirped and blinked.

Thank god.

He yanked out the fob and rushed to the SUV. He flung open the door and threw himself into the front seat. As he did, he radioed Yuri.

"They're on the run," he gasped out. "I'm in pursuit."

With no time to summon Kane, he hit the ignition.

As he did, the other Mercedes next to him growled to life.

He froze for a second, confused.

Then he felt the pistol pressed against the side of his neck.

He stared into the rearview mirror as a pale face rose into view, framed by snowy hair. A dark tattoo stood out sharply.

Valya reached around and ripped off his throat mike. "Drive," she said. "If you hope to find where the others are going. Or die here."

Tucker had no trouble making this choice. He shifted the vehicle into gear and headed away.

The other Mercedes paced him across the lot. A scarred figure with a dark ponytail sat behind the wheel. He imagined the two women must have secured the second fobs to these Mercedes—and turned both vehicles into traps.

And I jumped right into one.

Valya leaned close as Tucker made the turn onto the street.

"You're not who I had hoped to catch," she said. "But you'll do for now."