Black Flagged Redux (33 page)

**

Melendez tried not to pay attention to what was happening in the bedroom. Jessica had plunged through the doorway opening and opened the shades less than a minute later. Behind the curtains, he saw the man in white coveralls strapped into some unusual contraption on the floor next to the bed. He watched, slightly confused, as she adjusted a camera that had been knocked down by their scuffle. What she did next made him uncomfortable and he was relieved to turn his attention back to the foyer. He loaded a new magazine into his rifle and settled in to wait.

He heard a primal scream and expended considerable restraint from looking into the bedroom. He needed to focus on the impending arrival of the remaining attackers. A few seconds later, he saw light reflect off the marble floor in the dark recess of the foyer. Someone had opened the door, and he knew for a fact it wasn't Munoz. Munoz had followed the Serbians up the stairwell, trailing them by five floors, careful not to alert them to his presence. He had just checked in with Melendez from the stairwell.

From this angle, he couldn't see more than a quarter of the way into the foyer, so he placed the crosshairs at the furthest point along the foyer floor and waited. A foot slowly appeared, followed by another, as his next target moved cautiously down the hallway. He sighted in on the man's left knee and started to settle in for a shot. The man had stopped, which made his job easier. He started to apply pressure to the trigger, when the man suddenly bolted out of the foyer. His crosshairs found the man standing in front of an intact window, and suddenly, the view was obscured by a dark brown curtain. The curtain continued rapidly across the entire front of the living area, stopping a few feet from the wall separating the two rooms. Since he couldn't shoot effectively, he grabbed the radio. Everything relied on Munoz.

**

Goran pulled the curtain as far as he could bear and moved toward the bedroom doorway. He heard another scream filled with Serbian expletives, followed by a female voice speaking Serbian.

"Smile for your uncle, Josif. He doesn't want to see unhappy faces in prison."

"Fuck you, you miserable bitch. I'll carve your eyes out for this and force your husband to eat them!" Josif yelled.

Goran realized that she hadn't heard the curtains. He had tried to be as quiet as possible, which was quite a feat given the amount of slippery blood on the floor. Fuck, this was perfect. He would kill Zorana and rescue Josif on camera. Nothing could solidify his future with Srecko more solidly. He hated to deprive Srecko of the fun they had planned for Zorana, but they needed to get out of here immediately. The neighborhood would be crawling with police in a few minutes.

"Did you hear that, Srecko? Your precious nephew is somehow going to cut my eyes out. Doesn't he look so cute strapped into this thing? I know this wasn't the video you were expecting, but it'll have a few things in common. I'll just leave out the rape and sexual defilement, though some of the toys they brought along might spice up the show for you."

Goran stepped into the room, leading with the pistol. The sight of Josif writhing in the harness momentarily distracted him. Josif's white coveralls and undergarments were sliced open and pulled away from the center of his body to expose his entire torso. The act of splitting the clothing down had left numerous slashes extending from the top of his chest to his penis.

"Kill this fucking bitch!" Josif screamed.

Goran tried to aim the pistol at Jessica, but she had already ducked behind Josif, placing her knife across his throat and jamming her head right against his. He wasn't a good enough shot to hit the sliver of her face that remained exposed.

Goran saw her pistol on the bed and knew he could make this work. If he could get close enough to her, he could shoot her through the head. She would never cut Josif's throat and sacrifice her only leverage. Unfortunately, he didn't dare venture any further into the room with a sniper watching the apartment. He'd wait for the rest of his team and charge her while someone else closed the curtains.

"Jovan, Predag…let's go!" he yelled and looked back.

His men emerged from the hallway and he knew this would be over quickly. Jessica crouched behind Josif, and Goran hoped she'd go for her gun. She wouldn't make it halfway across the room. He glanced back at his team and found it odd that they had all slipped and fallen at the same time. The thought was interrupted by a sudden, intense pain at the top of his neck. What the fuck? He reached up, and his left hand hit something solid. None of it made any sense. He glanced toward Jessica and saw her crouch back down next to Josif.
I'm gonna kill this bitch!

Movement in his peripheral vision brought his attention back to the other room. A stocky Latino guy dressed in jeans and a dark blue windbreaker stood near the foyer, aiming a silenced submachine gun at his chest. Goran heard a staccato popping sound and was hammered to the floor in front of the bed. He watched helplessly as Jessica leaned over him and pulled the knife out of his neck. She grinned as she wiped the blade clean on her red skirt. His attention drifted to the thick black cylinder that hovered inches from his face.

**

Munoz changed the selective fire setting on the TMP to semi-automatic and pulled the trigger once, putting the Serbian out of his misery.

"We need to go, right now," he said, glaring at her.

"I just need a minute alone with him," she said.

She looked half crazy, and Munoz wondered how in the hell they were going to pull this off. She needed immediate medical attention, as far as he could tell. Her left hand was mangled, showing bone through the torn flesh on at least two of her fingers. She pressed the bleeding hand against her breast, thoroughly soaking her white blouse down to her abdomen. Not that he could be sure this was the source of the blood stain. Cuts and abrasions across her neck slowly seeped dark red streams down her upper chest. If that wasn't enough, she had taken a massive blow to the face, which had cut her right cheekbone and left a swollen, red mark the size of a baseball on the right side of her face. He spotted something that might help them get her out on the streets without attracting too much attention.

"We need to be on the street in less than a minute. Melendez is packing up and expects us to be walking south on Loyola. Change your shirt. Something black. And wipe off as much of that blood as possible from your arms and legs," he said.

"I'm not done with the video. This piece of shit hasn't put on his best performance for the camera," she said.

Munoz watched in sheer amazement as she turned her back on him and walked toward the writhing figure strapped into some kind of sadomasochist bondage harness. He figured this contraption was meant for her and could understand her anger, but they didn't have time for this. He gripped the TMP with both hands and lined the sights up on the man's forehead. The weapon coughed twice, and a large red stain hit the wall behind the man's head.

"What the fuck? I wasn't done with him," she said.

"If you want to see Daniel again, we need to be out of here in sixty seconds. I can hear police sirens. You need to make a choice, Jessica. One way or the other, I'm leaving in sixty seconds," he said.

"All right. Let's get out of here," she said.

She placed her face in front of the camera. "You're a fucking dead man, Srecko," she said and ejected the small tape in the camera.

Munoz found a few packets of Celox powder among the supplies spread out on the floor next to the bed. Celox was used on the battlefield to stop bleeding and could even be used to treat a severed artery. He'd have her wash as much of the blood off her skin as possible before she applied the powder. With a change of clothes and some makeup, they should be able to pull this off. When he turned to check on her, she grabbed the Celox packets out of his hands and pointed to the bedroom door.

"A little privacy," she said.

Munoz walked through the door, which slammed shut behind him. He glanced at his watch and swore to himself that he'd walk out the door in forty-five seconds.

**

Melendez spotted them hopping down from a wall on the left side of the street, fifty meters ahead of his van. He had parked and vacated the driver's seat while they worked their way through several yards and alleys. From the back of the van, he watched several police vehicles form a roadblock at the corner of Avenida Loyola and Avenida Rual Scalabrini, which was one hundred meters back down Avenida Loyola. On his police scanner, he monitored the most active police channel he could find and determined that the police had found the murdered doorman. Once they found the apartment, the entire police department would swarm the area. The sooner they got out of here, the better. He pulled the van onto Avenida Loyola and cruised over to pick them up. Once Munoz and Jessica were in the van, they would call General Sanderson. He imagined this wouldn't be a pleasant phone call.

Chapter 35

2:17 PM

Nuequen Province

Western Argentina

Terrence Sanderson stood on the covered deck of the headquarters lodge and shook his head. This was exactly the kind of publicity he had strived to avoid for the past two years. He opened the screen door and walked inside. Parker looked up from his array of three laptop computers, which were stationed around one end of the large conference table.

"Parker, we have a problem."

"Shit. Don't tell me the Russians know they're coming?" Parker said.

"No. Possibly a bigger problem."

He placed his satellite phone on the table and sat down next to Parker, exhaling for dramatic effect. Parker raised an eyebrow and stayed silent.

"The Serbians found their apartment in Buenos Aires…"

"Daniel's?"

"Exactly. They grabbed Jessica in the apartment, right in front of Munoz and Melendez. Jessica is fine, but she needs medical attention. We have ten dead Serbs in what Munoz described as a slaughterhouse. He said he'd never seen this much blood in one place, ever. The Petroviches kept the apartment sanitized of any identifying documents, so we have no concern there. The apartment is leased through a dummy corporation in Panama and has been prepaid for three years. All untraceable."

"Cameras?"

"That's the real problem. Daniel chose the apartment because of its security. The key cards are changed upon request and the place is loaded with cameras. The doorman was shot dead, so maybe the cameras were disabled when the Serbs broke into her apartment. Either way, I'm sure the police will have pictures of Daniel and Jessica very shortly. Probably Munoz and Melendez, too. Eventually, they'll figure out the ballistics, and locate the hotel room across the street. Once the pictures hit circulation, the Argentine Police will be able to identify them. Their cover identification will be ruined, and it won't be easy to move them around."

"Maybe we should move them out of the country now," Parker said.

"It doesn't sound like Jessica would fit in very well on a commercial flight. I'm sending them to a safe location outside of Buenos Aires, where Jessica can get in-house medical treatment. Munoz said most of her wounds were superficial and shouldn't require her to be in place for more than a few days."

"Do you want to get word to Daniel?"

"Negative. I need him focused on Monchegorsk. If Monchegorsk is as bad as Berg suspects, then the CIA will have enough evidence to start convincing the right people that U.S. interests are in imminent danger. Berg is also working on a Russian contact that may be willing to help us find Reznikov. If we can bag Reznikov and get him to talk, we might be able to leverage the information."

"Leverage?"

"I don't plan to work in the shadows forever. If we can get information from Reznikov that can prevent other attacks, I think we'll have more than enough leverage to get this group an immunity deal. It would be a win-win situation for our government. Fast results. Complete deniability. Zero cost to the taxpayer. Seamless integration with the CIA and a few other spook agencies. It would be perfect."

"What if they say no?"

"We don't lose if they call our bluff. Reznikov won't be our last opportunity. The world is a dangerous place and our services can't be ignored forever. Did Schafer arrive in Finland?"

"He met with Berg's guy and escorted the crew north. They're geared up and waiting in Oulu for first light. They'll cross the border south of Salla and stick to the less popular trails. Farrington wasn't very happy with the equipment provided by Berg's CIA contact."

"Will it get them to Monchegorsk?"

"He wasn't complaining about the transport. He said the weapons were sixties era Kalashnikovs, apparently part of a Cold War era weapons cache recently discovered thanks to a former KGB defector. The night vision equipment consisted of a few civilian model handheld scopes."

"He's starting to sound like Petrovich. As long as the weapons function, I don't give a shit. They're on a reconnaissance mission and shouldn't need weapons if they do their jobs correctly. Make sure to remind them of that. They need to figure out what happened in Monchegorsk and get the fuck out."

"Understood. I'll reemphasize your point."

"Thanks. I need to get in touch with
señor
Galenden. He shouldn't have any exposure to today's events, but if Daniel and Jessica are identified as the Russos, then authorities will be able to track them back to the airport in Nuequen, which he owns."

"We should send someone to the airport to retrieve their jeep. One less link to worry about," Parker said.

"Good call. Galenden won't be happy, but this is the first issue we've had in two years. From this point forward, all traffic goes in and out of our private airfield. Let me know when our team hits Russian soil."

"They should be underway in about nine hours, scheduled to arrive in the vicinity of Monchegorsk roughly four hours after that. They'll enter the city when it's dark. I'll keep you advised. Good luck with Galenden."