"Wait!" Mason protested, his voice hoarse with distress. He looked at Aleksandr with desperation. "They shot a woman, my ex-wife, Sylvia Fredrickson. I heard her scream, I heard her pleading with Prakenskii. She sounded so scared and then there was a shot fired. They must know what happened to her."
Aleksandr patted the man's shoulder a little awkwardly. "She got away. She's at the Drake house. She went to them to get help for you."
For a moment tears glimmered in Mason's eyes but he blinked them away. "Are you sure she's all right? She's never liked the Drakes. I can't believe she'd go to them."
"I think nothing mattered to her but that you were rescued. She was certain they were going to kill you and the Drakes are powerful women. I think she thought they were your best chance for survival. She was very brave."
Mason ducked his head, but Aleksandr caught the dawning realization in his eyes. "Yeah, she was, wasn't she?"
Aleksandr helped Mason Fredrickson into a sitting position. "Did they harm you in any way?" He was still uneasy. Nothing about the incident seemed right to him.
"Chernyshev knocked me around a little bit. Chad stayed away from me." Mason licked his dry lips. "You don't have any water, do you? After the other Russian left, no one would give me a drink."
"Prakenskii?" Aleksandr kept his voice casual.
Mason nodded. "Yeah, that was his name. He pretty much ran everything. Chernyshev wanted to kill me right away. I went into the alley behind the gallery and they were out there with Chad. I thought they were shaking him down, so I went to help him.
"I heard Chad say he wanted a hundred thousand dollars for transporting the bomb. The next thing I know, Chernyshev slams a gun against my head and is going to kill me right there and then. Chad doesn't say anything but this guy Prakenskii steps out of nowhere and stops them. He says they can use me. Chernyshev started to argue with him, but not very much. I could see they were all afraid of him."
"Did Prakenskii hurt you?"
"No, he gave me water and food and when Chernyshev got pissed about something and walked over and kicked me, Prakenskii told him to do it again and see what happened. He said it really low, no inflection, but it scared the hell out of Chernyshev. He didn't touch me after that."
"Let's get you on your feet. Just hang on to me and let's see if your legs will work."
Mason gritted his teeth. "Man, it hurts like hell. It feels like a thousand bees stinging me."
Aleksandr helped him up, keeping a firm grip when Fredrickson staggered and broke out into a sweat. "Where did Prakenskii go?"
"I don't know. He told Chad and the Russian guy to wait here for you and then to meet him after they'd taken care of you."
"What exactly did he say?"
Jonas returned, and propped Mason up on his left side. "Can you walk?"
Aleksandr halted. "I really need to know what Prakenskii said. It's important." He met Jonas's gaze. "I think this is a stall. Keep us looking in one direction while they go in another. Prakenskii knew I'd never fall for this. With or without you, there was no way I'd be taken by rank amateurs. He sent us out here to get us out of the way. And that means they're bringing in the shipment tonight."
Fredrickson shook his head. "No way. They were going to use Chad to transport the bomb."
Jonas met Aleksandr's eyes and reached out to take Fredrickson's arm, walking him to the car where he could sit comfortably and wait for the deputies.
When he returned, Aleksandr cleared his throat. "I was afraid they might be trying to bring in a dirty bomb. It wouldn't have to be much larger than the size of a suitcase." He raked his fingers through his hair. "We have all sorts of rotten waste material scattered everywhere left over from the nuclear age. I could tell you stories of dumps you wouldn't even believe. Nikitin is probably heavily involved in the smuggling. It isn't my jurisdiction, but I've heard the rumors. He's very violent and it is a known fact that the uranium smugglers are very nasty."
He looked at Jonas. "It wasn't very long ago that the deputy minister issued a warning stating that dirty bombs and biological substances made of fissile material and radioactive isotopes would be the most likely weapons terrorists would try to obtain. He knew what he was talking about. We've had information for some time that terrorists were trying to acquire the materials. Our power stations and the nuclear and biological institutes are vulnerable in Russia, just as they are here in the United States. The deputy minister has been working to improve the security."
Jonas swore under his breath. "Why would they bring it here? Why not Florida or southern California?"
"Because no one would suspect this area and they had a viable route. It was just their bad luck that a fisherman noticed and sent the word to Interpol and we stepped up our investigation." Aleksandr let out his breath slowly. "They have to be rendezvousing with the freighter tonight. Cherynshev and Kingman are sacrificial pawns. Most likely, Prakenskii thought they'd be killed."
Jonas glanced at his watch. "The other deputies are here to transport the prisoners and we'll let them take Fredrickson as well. We'll want Jackson with us."
"Your coast guard is going to want to handle it. You'll have to notify them and give them a list of the names of the freighters we've been tracking," Aleksandr said. "If any of the freighters are in the area, that's your ship. The freighter will either drop to the fishing boat, or directly to the men using the speedboat." The moment the words escaped, his head jerked up.
Jonas flashed him a look of inquiry, but Aleksandr glanced toward the deputies and prisoners and shook his head.
Aleksandr waited impatiently while the sheriff and his deputy made the transfer of prisoners to another vehicle and notified the coast guard of their suspicions. He provided the names of several freighters known to Interpol as ones used by smugglers or terrorists that might be in the area. A second sheriff 's car took Mason Fredrickson from them. Jonas told the driver to take Fredrickson to the Drakes. The man seemed more concerned to see his ex-wife than a doctor.
The moment they were alone in the car, Jonas turned to Aleksandr. "Why do you want the coast guard to intercept the drop without us? They'll never stop them."
"That's why. I think it's too late. There are too many names, too many places they can be out on the sea. Even with all the technology, how are they going to find them in time? When Abigail and I were checking caves, she told me about one that could be used to hide a speedboat. She specifically mentioned it was facing south and the coast guard wouldn't be able to see into it as they passed by. She said that the small beach could be reached by land, but a caretaker was vigorous in stopping people from using it. Apparently he recently met with an accident."
Jonas and Jackson shrugged, puzzled. "There are hundreds of little coves along this coastline."
"Somewhere near Elk?"
"She isn't talking about Cuffey's Cove, is she?" Jackson asked. "Quite a few campers use that. There wouldn't be any privacy."
"She mentioned Cuffey's Cove, but it wasn't that. It's a cove north of Elk and has no public access."
Jonas drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Wait a minute. I know what she's talking about." He glanced back at Jackson. "Do you remember a few years back when that gray whale washed up onshore?"
Jackson nodded. "People came out of the woodwork, hiking across private property, tearing up fences to get a look at it."
"It was a mess," Jonas agreed. "I'll bet that's the cove Abbey was referring to. The caretaker, with our help, ran them off. It's a beautiful piece of land, but private property. Abigail's right. They could easily hide a small Zodiac there." He pulled out a cell phone. "I'll double-check with Abbey and alert them to where we'll be going. If they're that worried about Prakenskii, I'll want them standing by to help us."
"Abigail's not telepathic," Aleksandr said. "How do they know when we need help?"
Jonas shrugged, a faint smile on his face. "With the Drakes, you just don't ask questions. I told you, you have to accept what you see and hear w
ith them. And even if Abbey isn't telepathic, a couple of the others are."
"Great." Aleksandr sighed. "Let's just get to the cove. Talking about the Drakes gives me a headache."
Jonas laughed softly. "That's because they are a headache."
"Well, call them and get it over with."
"You're on the coast, Aleksandr. There are only a couple of places around here that a cell phone actually works."
Aleksandr admired the way Jonas drove along the highway, maneuvering the switchbacks and twists and turns as fast as it was safe to go. He didn't like relying on the coast guard to try to intercept the drop, but the truth was, he didn't believe they'd made the call in time. Prakenskii's delaying tactic had certainly worked. They had been forced to make a slow approach to the barn in order to assure safety. The entire plan had been conceived to burn up as much time as possible.
Jonas glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Think out loud."
Aleksandr shrugged. "I have more questions than answers."
"Let's hear them."
"This still doesn't make any sense to me." Aleksandr laid his head back against the seat, trying to shut everything out of his mind but the puzzle. "Prakenskii deliberately sacrificed both Chad Kingman and Chernyshev. Why? Just to buy time? What if Sylvia hadn't gone to the police? What if she hadn't gone to the Drakes? Abbey says he's like they are, that he's capable of using magic. Is it possible that he planted the suggestion in Sylvia's mind to go to the Drakes? Was that how he was able to set up his ruse so successfully?"
Something nagged at the back of his mind and he suddenly leaned forward in his seat. "Why in the hell is Prakenskii working so hard to bring a dirty bomb into the United States? If the rumors are true, he despises terrorists. Nikitin deals with the terrorists, but he keeps Prakenskii around for personal protection. Everyone fears Prakenskii. Especially the terrorists. The word is, Nikitin keeps Prakenskii far away from them."
"He must be a valuable man for Nikitin to keep him," Jonas mused.
"Prakenskii has sources no one else can come close to. There isn't much going on he doesn't know about." As soon as he said the words aloud another thought that had been niggling at the back of his mind leapt to the forefront. "Is it possible he handed Kingman and Chernyshev to us? Gave them up?"
"Why would he do that?"
"I ran into him earlier at the Drakes. I thought he was there to kill Abigail or waiting for me to show up, but he denied it. And he denied killing Danilov. Prakenskii is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar."
Jonas snorted. "Believing a hit man isn't a liar is a good way to get yourself killed. Why would he tell you the truth? What other reason would he have for being at the Drakes other than to case the place and set up to kill you or one of the women?" He didn't like the idea of a killer lurking anywhere close to the Drake family and it showed in the snarl in his voice.
"Carol was taking pictures of the sisters at one point and she claimed there was a light in one of the windows. Suppose someone else, such as Leonid Ignatev, was planning on killing Abigail, and Prakenskii was looking out for her. It's something he would do."
"Why would Ignatev want to kill Abbey?" The suppressed anger was becoming something much stronger and much more lethal.
"In order for me to get Abigail out of Russia, out of harm's way, I had to take Ignatev down. He would have killed her. He had his men beating her to get her to give me up. I took out his interrogators and produced enough hard evidence against him to force him to run with a price on his head. He put out a contract on me and I'm certain he'll do his best to kill Abbey just to get to me."
"How do you plan to stop him?"
"You're the sheriff. I don't think discussing that with you is the best plan," Aleksandr said. "Especially since I really do plan on hitting you up for work when Abbey and I are married."
"Just make certain you get the job done," Jonas said.
"I don't leave loose ends." Aleksandr watched the coastline fly by as they drove swiftly along the highway. The ocean swells were large and powerful as they rushed toward the cliffs, capping white and sending spray high into the air as water hit rock formations.
"Why would Prakenskii protect Abigail?" Jackson asked.
It was one of the first sentences Aleksandr had heard him utter. He was obviously a man of few words. "That's a good question. I can't quite figure him out. We grew up and were trained together. He went one way and I went another. We've met a few times since and battled it out, both licking our wounds afterward."
"Would he protect you?" Jonas asked.
Aleksandr's first thought was to deny it, but who really knew what went on in the mind of Ilya Prakenskii? He often did the unexpected. There were always larger-than-life rumors about him. He was nearly a legend in some places in Russia, his name whispered rather than spoken aloud. "I don't know. Why would he? He shot me once and he cut me another time, put me out of commission for a couple of months."
"Is he good enough to wound you without seriously harming you?" Jonas asked.
"Depends on what you mean by seriously harming me. I wasn't exactly feeling wonderful after he shot me." But he had known Prakenskii had chosen not to kill him. Prakenskii just didn't miss. He hit exactly what he was aiming at every time. Had he been going for a kill, Aleksandr would have been dead. "He deliberately missed."
"And you deliberately missed him." Jackson made it a statement.
Aleksandr was uncomfortably aware of Jonas glancing at him in the rearview mirror. He didn't have answers they wanted. Something deep within him made him spare Prakenskii. Or maybe it was misplaced loyalty. Or possibly it was Prakenskii's magic. That was still a difficult fact for Aleksandr to swallow. Could Prakenskii have been manipulating him just as he was certain the man had manipulated Sylvia?
He swore. "I don't know. It just doesn't fit with everything I know about Prakenskii. I can't see him getting involved with terrorists. There are stories about him I know aren't true, but many are, and some worse than anything told. Nikitin sent him to meet a group of terrorists who were believed to be placing bombs along the railroad tracks. Bombing the trains is a tactic used to make a political point. That was in the early days when Nikitin didn't know Prakenskii very well and had no idea about his views on terrorists. All of the terrorists were armed, all were well trained and seasoned. I saw photographs of the scene afterward. They were all dead and they'd died hard. He walked away without a scratch."
"It's a wonder Nikitin didn't have him killed," Jonas said.
"I thought that at the time. I worried about him." Aleksandr rubbed the shadow on his jaw. He let out a slow breath, weighing how much he should say. Abigail trusted Jonas implicitly and it was obvious Jonas trusted Jackson. "I've heard a very soft rumble about an antiterrorism unit formed. Several countries are rumored to be participating. The information is collected in one clearinghouse"--he hesitated again--"much like Interpol, and once it is determined they have found a terrorist cell a hit team is sent in. The team members are totally anonymous; they go in quietly, get in and get out. They execute everyone on-site. My understanding is they are totally anonymous so that they can operate in safety, as the terrorists would certainly go after their families."
Jonas looked at him with flat, cold eyes. "How are they going to get information if they don't take at least one prisoner?"
Aleksandr shrugged, returning the expressionless gaze.
"Damn it. You know a hell of a lot more than you're willing to admit."
"I'm telling you there's a possibility this team exists and that Ilya Prakenskii is a part of it. When I saw those photographs, it occurred to me that Prakenskii would be a perfect recruit for such an international force."
There was a small silence. Jonas broke it first. "And it follows that if he were on that international force and was here, he'd be working undercover. That's where you're leading with all of this, isn't it? You've suspected for some time, but you don't know."
"No, I don't know. If I'm wrong and he's re
ally Nikitin's muscle, I've wasted several opportunities to kill him."
"And if he is following a cell of terrorists and he's come here, then that means my county has a major problem." Jonas hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. "And if he's undercover, he handed me Chernyshev because he found out Chernyshev murdered Danilov. Chad Kingman was worthless to him."
"And he got us out of his way."
"Does he have backup?" Jackson asked.
"I doubt it. I've never known him to work with anyone. He wanted me to get Abbey out of the bar the night we went to the Caspar Inn. She challenged him to a game of truth or dare and he was very uncomfortable." Aleksandr peered out the window. "We must be getting close. We don't want them to see us if they have a guard."
"Don't worry. I know the area," Jonas said. "Let's say, just for the hell of it, that you're right and Prakenskii is on some hotshot international antiterrorist team that he can't admit to. He wouldn't be out at sea watching them make the drop, would he?"
"No, he wouldn't." Aleksandr's voice was grim. His gaze was already searching the high places above them. "He'll be sitting up somewhere above that cove with a scope and a rifle and he'll take them all out."
Jonas pulled the car into a tangle of overgrown brush on a small side road. "We walk from here."
"I'll go high," Jackson said. "You'll have to give me a few minutes to work my way into position, especially if I have to worry that he's out there."
"In my country, a knife blade is often coated with poison so a single cut, even a shallow one, will kill you." Even with the cover of the brush, Aleksandr crouched down and kept his voice low. "Prakenskii can attack with equal skill with either hand. I've seen few expert enough to go up against him in close fighting."
"I'm not hunting him," Jackson said. "I'm protecting you and Jonas."
"If you have to shoot, he'll see the flash and track it right back to you." Aleksandr didn't know how to shake the deputy up, to make him aware just how dangerous Prakenskii really was. Jackson's eyes were black, flat and cold and empty. There was no expression on his face and nothing the Interpol agent said seemed to alarm him. Aleksandr recognized the look all too well. When Aleksandr looked in the mirror, those same dead eyes stared back at him.