“You guys mind if we take a look?” Haddad asks, gesturing to the car.
“Being you asked so nicely but hurry, will ya? We’re getting sick of looking at this fuck.”
They walk over, both slipping on gloves.
“Emptied the magazine,” Carpenter comments, looking at the damage. She stoops down to look at the man’s face. “Yup, that’s one of them.”
“Yeah, but not who we’re really looking for,” Haddad sighs.
“Did a little shopping, but not enough food for three,” Carpenter comments, poking through the bag on the seat.
Gently, she goes through his pockets and finds a room key and shows it to Haddad. “Right down the street,” she says.
“Maybe we should stop by, unannounced.”
Chapter 2
Comfort Courtyard Inn
Riding on top, Elayna is close and so is Kreichek, but he won’t finish this way. He pulls her down to his chest and rolls her on to her back for the final sprint. With a dramatic pause first, he thrusts into her, making her grunt with pleasure. He feels her rise and as she convulses, gasping, pawing his face and gripping the bed sheet, he lets go into her with a jolt, lifting her up. The endorphins explode into their blood streams, the final reward for their primitive, savage act.
Exhausted and dazed, they lie there staring at the ceiling, no longer strangers, not quite friends, watching the changing shades of blue from the TV. Slowly, the real world begins to return with its regret and shame.
Elayna rolls away from him, ready to sleep. Kreichek doesn’t mind. After a minute he slips out of bed. “Time for a smoke…”
“Go outside,” she orders, all civility gone.
He doesn’t argue but makes sure his grumbling is loud enough while pulls on his pants and throws on a shirt before stepping out on the little balcony, wondering if the smoke is really worth it. After the first drag, he concludes it is.
He listens to the white noise of passing cars and the hum from the florescent lights. A thought makes him chuckle. “Poor Niki, all by himself over there,” he thinks, looking across the street at Hutnikov’s motel. “He will be jealous!”
That’s when he sees them. Dark sedans pull up fast and quiet outside the building and shadowy figures spill out. He realizes he doesn’t see Hutnikov’s car. He moves out of the light, cupping his cigarette. “This is bad…”
“Elayna, wake up! The police are across the street,” he blurts, rushing back in.
She springs into action, grabbing a gun before grabbing her underwear. “Fuck! What did that idiot do?”
“We’ve waited too long to do this. It should be over!” he says coldly.
Her grip tightens on the gun, fighting the impulse to shoot him in the head right then and there. “You still need him. Besides, he’s right.”
In only a few minutes they collect everything together and get out, trying hard not to leave anything important behind.
Chapter 3
Wynn Marh Cathedral
Stani is thinking of fire. He’s already started to burn his bridges, so to speak, by killing poor Nate. Now he’s thinking of something bigger, the cathedral. He’s got plenty of fuel, and it would make for quite the sight. It’s all going to burn anyway. He’s on a twisted course of sparing those he’s fond of from the inevitable nuclear inferno that he is about to initiate, and he is very fond of the church, more so than just about any human being. For decades he’s nurtured it, helping it to retain its beauty despite its years. As he stands outside his work shed, looking up to the illuminated spires, he smiles at the irony of how his life has turned out. All this time attending the Master’s house, and never knowing the Master.
He swigs on the bottle of vodka again. He decides he will start with his house, then move to the sanctuary. In reality, only the roof will go, and the sturdy wood interiors. The white stone will only be charred black, but the insides, like his soul, will be beyond reclamation.
From out of the darkness comes laughter. Three forms materialize in the light. One of them is his last cage fighting opponent, Kesean Taylor. He too has something to drink, and a bat. The other two have guns.
“Looks like the party’s started already,” Kesean announces merrily.
“This motherfucker don’t look so bad, Key. Some old drunk,” one of his pals says in disgust.
“He is when he gets the drop on you, ain’t that right, Stan-leee,” Kesean taunts. They all laugh, circling their prey like hyenas.
Stani watches carefully, sobering up from the threat but still pretty drunk, and armed only with the bottle.
One of the thugs aims low and pulls the trigger. It cuts through Stani’s leg. He drops to his knees.
“There ya go, Key, all teed up now,” the triggerman smiles.
“Fuck you,” Stani sneers, waiting for Kesean to get closer.
He hands the bottle to his other pal and slowly swings the bat as if to loosen up. “You, motherfucker…no one cuts me and gets away with it.”
Stani tries to get up, but the gun comes closer. “Don’t you fucking move, motherfucker.”
All Stani can think about is the regret of not killing this man when he had a chance. He has gotten old and sloppy. He accepts that he is deserving of this end. Regardless, he will not go easy. He grips the bottle tightly, he will be able to throw it at the gunman’s head, then hopefully get to Kesean before the other can open fire.
He begins to laugh maniacally.
It throws off their concentration.
“I’ll give you something to laugh about…” Kesean threatens, as he winds up is swing.
Suddenly, the front of the gunman’s head explodes in a cloud of pink.
Then the other punk drops to the ground.
Stani no longer laughs, but the smile remains. Panicked, Kesean looks around in every direction. Stani rises before him, his face locked in the smile. He betrays not a hint of pain.
Kesean swings the bat at him in desperation. He might as well have been trying to break granite. Stani dodges the swing, then buries his fist into Kesean’s kidney, staggering him. Stani simply pulls the gun out of his hand as he buckles. The young fighter is stunned.
Now a shadowy figure appears, just outsides the fall of light. “I hope I’m not interrupting something,” the shadow calls. Into the light emerges Eddy, cradling a big ass M-14 Saber rifle, fitted with a long sniper barrel and silencer.
“Not at all, just a little going-away party,” Stani smiles.
Eddy looks at Stani’s leg.
“Only a flesh wound,” Stani assures him.
Frozen in fear, Kesean has no idea what to do.
“It’s a good thing I came along. I wonder what would have happened if I didn’t,” Eddy laughs.
“I guess we’ll never know,” Stani replies.
Kesean decides to run for it. Stani and Eddy burst into laughter.
“He’s fast!” Eddy says.
Stani snatches the rifle from Eddy. “Yes, but you can never outrun a bullet.” The night-vision scope allows Stani to follow Kesean easily as he runs across the dark field, making for the woods. Stani squeezes off a round. A perfect, but messy head shot.
“No, you can’t,” Eddy agrees.
Stani hands the rifle back to Eddy. “So, just happened to be around, yes?”
“It is my job, providing operational security. I check up on everyone,” he smiles, slinging the rifle over his back as he begins to gather the bodies.
“Are you worried about me?” Stani asks.
Eddy stops for a second. “No, Stani, not you. I am worried about Katrina.”
Chapter 4
Glenside
When she runs in the dark, sometimes she is surprised where she ends up. The quiet and solitude give her a chance to clear out her mind, with the hope of finding some solution to the problem at hand. A key component of her mission training was the removal of the capacity to care. Her drinking greatly helped in that goal. Stil
l, all the conditioning and the booze were never able to fully extinguish what, ironically, is the key to her sobriety. Her conscience.
Kate knows that she is no longer capable of fulfilling the mission. If indeed the orders are legit, she cannot do anything that will alter what has already been put into motion. Other teams would be on the move, and one of them probably has the very same mission.
“It doesn’t matter. I have to stop it, mistake or not.”
She should just grab the kids and vanish. The devices need two separate codes to arm them, the so-called two-man rule. Stani has one, she another, but Eddy has a backup should either Katrina or Stani become unable to do it. So running isn’t the answer.
That leaves her little time and fewer options, and none of them good. Murder and betrayal are Katrina’s strong suits, but not Kate’s.
On the dark quiet street, Kate becomes aware of a car behind her, slowing down as it approaches. She slides her running bag to front and unzips it halfway. Reaching in, Kate flips the safety off her gun, sensing trouble.
Out the corner of her eye, she sees the car glide up next to her on the left. The passenger window rolls down.
Kate stops dead in her tracks. The car rolls by her, but then it too comes abruptly to a halt. It waits in the middle of the road for what seems an eternity. Then the door opens, and a man gets out. She will not hesitate if she sees a weapon.
“A little late for a pretty lady like yourself to be out alone, don’t you think?”
She didn’t recognize the car, but she recognizes Dan McDowd’s voice. She puts the safety back on and zips up the bag. “With drunks like you out here, you might be right.” Kate starts walking over to him. “Going my way?” she asks.
“Think so,” he says getting back in. The drive is a short one, barely allowing them to start a conversation. “Midnight run, huh?”
“Just a short one. It will help me sleep,” she answers.
“Guilty conscience?”
At first she balks at the comment, then lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. You just never seem to get out from under the bad decisions you made drinking. That guilt just hangs on, always there, always reminding you, never letting go, and always bringing you back to a drink.”
They pull up to Kate’s house. McDowd puts it in park. “We’ve all made bad decisions.”
Kate laughs. “You have no idea, mister. Ask your sister one of these days.” She gets misty thinking about some of them. A flash of an afternoon on the way to a train. A kid bleeding to death on a darkened street. Children lost, children saved. Past, present and future.
“Yeah, but that pain, those memories are supposed to keep us from getting in trouble again,” he reminds her.
She appreciates his kindness but resents his naïve conclusion. She turns to look at him. An errant tear has streaked her cheek, but it goes unnoticed in the dark.
“I could’ve drank today,” he tells her, looking straight ahead. “I came this close,” he says, his index finger and thumb almost touching.
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because I saw you.”
“Yeah, right,” she says with a dismissive laugh.
“No, I’m serious! The Elbow Room, just down the street. Open till two. Then the VFW Hall after that.”
She can hear it in his voice, the edge of a plan gone sour. She believes him.
“A man died tonight, and I let it happen. I’m supposed to be better than that. Now I feel guilty! I mean, how fucked up is that?” Then he turns to her, their eyes finally meeting. “So tell me, Kate, why are you out here?”
“Because I want a drink.”
If there were a bottle in the car, the might have split it. They do, however, have the next best thing, each other, to try to heal the hurt, and to give in to the desire they’ve both tried to resist. McDowd searches her face for a sign. Slowly, he moves closer, and Kate does not move away. Instead, she closes her eyes.
Their lips meet, and it is as if a thousand volts pour through her body, awakening her like sunlight on an orchid. Their kiss is gentle, sweet and fragile at first, timid as if they are stepping into a flowing river, unsure of what awaits them. Slowly, their confidence grows, wading deeper into the current. Hands begin to flow over their bodies, taking them deeper into the current. The feel of his muscular shoulders and arms thrill her, and her body responds.
They come up for air, lips barely separating. Sweating again, Kate slips off her jacket, revealing her shapely sports bra. Passion. Lust, she’d forgotten the feeling, lost in an empty marriage, in the existence as a housewife and mother, returning with intensity she’d never felt before, in the clarity of sobriety.
His hand touches her neck, and she begins to melt into the current, letting go without concern of where it will take her, but knowing it will be wonderful, and knowing it will be all right.
Kate’s reaction to his touch makes McDowd begin to ache, becoming desperate now for release. His hand slips down her back, and her mind follows with it, drifting to the small of her back, to her…”GUN! The waist pack!”
She jolts away, startling McDowd. “I’m sorry…”
As Kate quickly pulls her jacket back on, he notices something on her arm, a large scar, like from a bad burn.
She grabs his hands. “No! Don’t be. Just, not now. Not here. Besides, it’s late.”
“Yeah, it’s late.”
She sees the dejection written on his face. Kate kisses him again, just enough to reassure him. “Were you planning to be at Julie’s party?”
“I am now.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.” With one last parting kiss, she is gone.
Chapter 5
Stani’s shop
Stani treats his wound without help from Eddy. It’s just another souvenir to add to his large collection. What really hurts is the doubt that Eddy has planted in his mind about Katrina. “She would never betray us. This I know with certainty.”
“Perhaps not willingly, but perhaps to save her children,” Eddy presses.
Stani begins to get irritated. “Do you forget who we are talking about? She is tougher than the two of us combined! She is Katrina!”
“Stani, that was a long time ago! I don’t care who she was, people change.”
“We need her to arm the weapons. It is that simple,” Stani says flatly.
“You know that is not true. You know I have the override code,” Eddy replies carefully.
It is difficult for Stani to accept this, but he knows some of Eddy’s motivation comes from spite. He never liked her, or having to answer to a woman, for that matter. Still, Stani has to admit his points are valid.
“You should also know this. It seems the husband has left. The other night I followed her. She was with a new man. I did some digging. He is U.S. Army Intelligence.”
Stani looks up with his cold steely eyes, “If she betrayed us, we would not be having this conversation.”
“True, but do you want to want her to have that option?”
Stani takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “Do what you think you must.”
Chapter 6
Woodcrest Road
The quiet of the night has passed into the commotion of the morning. The boys have gone to school and Kate goes through the routine like any other morning. It is no different without Michael being there; she never really saw him anyway. Next to her side of the bed, she gets down on her knees with her Glock resting on the down comforter before her. Kate closes her eyes and recites the Seventh Step prayer. She has said it countless times before, but never with such conviction or sincerity.
“God, I am now willing that you should have all of me, good and bad. I pray that you now remove from me every single defect of character…Katrina… that stands in the way of my usefulness to you and my fellows. Grant me the strength, as I go out from here, to do your bidding.”
She knows God hears every prayer and answers one way or another. “Your wil
l, not mine, be done. Amen.”
Kate Wilson stands, takes the gun and sticks it into her waist behind her back, underneath the long leopard skin-patterned coat into which she’s sewn Kevlar panels. “Fashion with function,” she murmurs. Looking at herself in the mirror, she laughs at the thought that she too is an endangered species. She shakes it off. “Just one foot in front of the other, Kate. He heard you,” she says, strengthening her resolve. As she walks out the door, she can’t help but to wonder what Katrina would pray for. “Don’t kid
yourself, you know damn well what she wants.”
Chapter 7
Knight’s Rest Motel
The forensic people are just finishing up with Hutnikov’s room, having found little to help them except the cell phone he left behind. The agents checked the SIMM card but only got one number out of it, the same number listed as an incoming call. The account is a European one, and the NSA is on it.
“So now what?” McDowd asks Haddad as they stand outside the motel in the cold morning air.
Haddad looks up and down the busy highway. “We can canvas the area, see if we can turn something up.”
Another agent comes out with the box of Hutnikov’s stuff, and Haddad takes out the phone.
“Or we can try giving this a try,” Haddad smirks, handing the phone to McDowd. He calls the last incoming number.
After one ring, a woman answers, letting loose a barrage of profanity in Russian. The screaming a tirade is jolting, forcing him to hold cell away from his ear. Both men stifle their chuckles.
“What do you want from me?” he says in Russian.
There is a long pause after that. She knows.
“Is this Elayna?” McDowd asks, switching to English.
“Why yes it is, and who is this?” Her tone changes from irate to sickening sweet.
“This is Special Agent McDowd of the FBI. How are you today?”
“I’m a little confused. I was looking for my friend.”
“I’m afraid he can’t come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?” Haddad leans in to hear.
“Your accent is good, St. Petersburg?” Elayna comments.