Chapter 27

27

May 12, 10:39 A . M . MSK

Moscow, Russian Federation

Tucker struggled to breathe through the cloth bag over his head. His wrists were cuffed behind him. His body jostled and rocked in the back of a van. He heard Valya on a cell phone in the front. Unfortunately, she was speaking in Russian, so he couldn't tell what she was talking about.

He could glean only one thing.

She's pissed.

Next to Tucker, the ponytailed woman with a thin scar—Nadira Ali Saeed—pressed a pistol into his side, aiming for his kidney.

Regardless of the threat, Tucker had no intention of struggling. He had heard Dr. Stutt's name come up as he eavesdropped on Valya.

If they're hauling me to Elle and Marco, I'll play the cooperative prisoner.

Still, the question remained:

Where are they taking me?

It had been roughly an hour and a half since he had been ambushed. By his estimate—after being forced at gunpoint from the Mercedes into a van—the vehicle had traveled some twenty or thirty miles. He heard increasing traffic noises: squealing brakes, honking horns, revving engines.

We must have returned to the outskirts of Moscow.

After another few minutes, the van swerved sharply, then jolted over a series of speed bumps. The latter threw him out of his seat. Still, the pistol never moved from his kidneys, which spoke to the deadly efficiency of the woman guarding him.

The van finally braked to a hard stop. Moments later, the door slid open. Even with his head bagged, the brighter light suggested they hadn't driven into a garage. He also heard the roar of heavier engines, both those rumbling in low timbres and others that screeched louder. He recognized the sounds of jets, landing and taking off.

An airport...

That was worrisome. He had hoped he'd be held somewhere closer at hand, to better his chances of a rescue.

Nadira nudged him with her pistol. He did his best to maneuver to the door. As he bent down to exit, a hand ripped the bag from his head. He blinked against the sudden brightness.

Valya stood there, holding the hood. "Sychkin wants to speak to you."

"I'm sure it'll be a pleasant conversation. But what about Dr. Stutt and my dog?"

"That beast is yours?" Valya said. "Didn't know Sigma had its own kennel. You've been a thorn in my side since Saint Petersburg."

"I'm not with Sigma," Tucker answered truthfully, enjoying the surprised pinch to Valya's brows. "I'm a hired gun. Like you."

"A mercenary?" Her voice rang with doubt.

"I prefer the term contracted employee. I was paid to track an operative of yours in Saint Petersburg. I was one of many tails placed on people in your organization." This last was a lie, but it sounded good to him. "My specialty is in hunting and extraction. After I secured Dr. Stutt, I was to keep her safe. So, if anything, you've been a thorn in my side."

Valya took this all in with a calculating expression, rubbing a finger along her jawline. He didn't know how much she believed, but he had no doubt she was assessing how best to put this to her advantage.

She finally swung to the side, clearing the way for him to hop out of the van, which was challenging with his arms secured behind him. He searched around and saw they were parked on the tarmac of a private airstrip, one next to a much larger and busier terminal. From the distance they had traveled, he guessed the main facility was Moscow's Sheremetyevo International Airport.

As he was led toward an open hangar, Tucker noted a small jet idling nearby. Its tire blocks were being dragged away by a sullen-faced employee, who showed no interest or surprise at the bound prisoner being marched at gunpoint into the hangar, as if this were a common occurrence.

Ah, Russia...

A voice rose from the depths of the building. "Tucker..."

It took him a few steps to pick out Elle's shape from the shadows. She stood before a closed office door. He also spotted a familiar four-legged figure. Marco had already recognized him as a breeze blew into the hangar, carrying Tucker's scent to the shepherd.

The dog whined and cried in a distressed greeting. Marco yanked on his leash, nearly toppling Elle over, who carried the other end of the lead.

"S TAY ," Tucker called over. "S IT ."

Marco leaped once more toward him, then dropped to his haunches.

Tucker knew the familiarity of these simple commands would help calm the young Malinois. Dogs grew stressed in unknown situations, and with all that had happened, Marco was surely frazzled and drained. To hear Tucker's voice and to be able to fall back into the routine of his training was a warm hug of reassurance.

Tucker crossed toward the pair. They were watched over by the looming bulk of Yerik Raz. He carried no weapon, but his presence alone was intimidating enough.

Marching ahead of Tucker, Valya passed by the large monk and headed into the office without knocking. Tucker was left in the tender care of Nadira, who led him to Elle and Marco.

Once there, Tucker noted the muzzle locked around the dog's snout. Though he could appreciate the necessity on their captor's part, anger still fired through him.

Marco whined again in greeting, but the dog maintained his position, sticking to the last command. A tail swished behind the dog, but it was not the full swing of joyfulness. Only the tail's tip wagged, a sign of wary caution, as if Marco feared he had done something wrong.

Tucker wished he could reach out and console the dog. But with his wrists bound, he did all he could. He dropped to a knee and leaned his face close. "You're a good boy, Marco."

A tongue licked through the barred gate of the muzzle.

"I'm happy to see you, too," Tucker said.

Elle crouched next to him. "Are you okay?"

He turned to her and shrugged. "I've had better days."

The tension eased slightly in her shoulders. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Do you know what happened to your friend, Mr. Kowalski?"

"He's not here?"

She shook her head. "He tried to help us escape, but we got separated."

Tucker frowned, hoping the big guy got out of the burning mansion. He focused on Elle. "What about you? How're you doing?"

"I've had better days, too." She glanced sidelong at Yerik. "They're planning on taking me north. To an Arctic base in Severodvinsk. I'm to be held there until I'm needed."

"Then just keep cooperating. We'll have to see what happens from here."

"And you?"

"That's still up in the air."

The door to the office opened, and Valya exited with Sychkin. Neither looked pleased—not about the situation, and for the archpriest, certainly not with Tucker.

"I've been informed that my dacha in Sergiyev Posad, an estate that's been in my family for five generations, has burnt to the ground." Each word was spoken with an icy bitterness. "And you were involved."

Tucker remained down on one knee, doing his best to look like less of a threat. "I was hired to search for Dr. Stutt. To use my dogs to sniff her out. Nothing more. This is not my war."

Sychkin eyed Marco. The dog noted the attention and curled his lips into a snarl, exposing fangs. A low growl rumbled from his throat.

"Q UIET ," Tucker ordered.

Marco's eyes narrowed, looking like he might refuse. The young shepherd had been stubborn from the get-go with his training. It was no wonder the pup had failed out of the MWD training center in Lackland. Still, Tucker recognized that stubbornness was born of intelligence. With time and the right training, he might outshine Kane.

Okay, maybe not Kane... no one else could be that good.

Marco's lips lowered, and his growl died away. Still, one long canine tooth remained bared.

Definitely stubborn.

Sychkin acknowledged Tucker's control of Marco with a small nod. "It seems Dr. Stutt has grown fond of your dog. If you can keep him under control, I see the worth of your presence. Still, if you are to continue with us, you'll need to pay for your passage north."

"How?"

"I want all the information you have on the group that hired you. Who they are? What do they know?"

Tucker swallowed, not sure how willing he was to comply.

His hesitation was noted.

Sychkin gave the smallest nod to Yerik, proving that the archpriest had as much control over the monk as Tucker had over Marco. Yerik drew a pistol and pointed it at Elle.

"Must I make my point clearer," Sychkin warned.

As Tucker stared at the archpriest, he imagined scalping that beard off his face. Instead, he said calmly, "You need her."

Sychkin smiled, but there was no warmth. "True." Another nod, and the pistol shifted to Marco. "But I don't need this dog. There are other ways to make Dr. Stutt cooperate."

Tucker's jaw tightened.

"Lie, and your partner's death will be prolonged. And you will watch every moment of it." Sychkin leaned closer. "So, I recommend that you tell me something worth the price of your safe passage north. Disappoint me, and we're done talking."

Tucker weighed his options. If he refused, he had no doubt that Marco would be slain, and Tucker would be next—but only after they tortured him for all the information they could get.

Later, Elle would likely suffer a similar fate.

So, it was either certain death at the hands of these monsters, or trust in Gray and the others' abilities. Tucker hated to put a target on their backs, but at least the others were still free and able to act.

Tucker felt the chafe of his cuffs, saw the muzzle on Marco, read the fear in Elle's eyes—and made his decision.

Sorry, Gray.

Tucker let out a long breath. He knew exactly what knowledge would gain him the most time.

"Well?" Sychkin pressed him.

"You're looking for the location of the Golden Library at the Trinity Lavra," Tucker said stiffly. "The others learned where it is. Or at least, the spot on those grounds where it's hidden."

Sychkin looked at Valya.

"I warned you that these adversaries are clever," Valya said, acknowledging that Tucker's claim was possible. "You best not underestimate them."

Sychkin turned back to Tucker. "Where?"

Knowing the cost of a lie, he answered truthfully.

"The Ringing Tower."