Femme Fatale (22 page)

“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “Yes, I’m sure.” She reached down and took him into her hand, squeezing reassuringly to let him know what he was asking.

His fingers dipped into her, awakening her fully, arousing the molten core of her, feeling her own hunger trying to clasp and hold him. Then he removed his hand and grabbed a condom from his jeans, quickly sheathing himself before sliding his hips forward.

She matched his movement, felt his hardness push gently into her, penetrating her and stretching her. He went slow, trying not to hurt her, but her own wants drove her upward to spear herself on him.

He settled his hands on her hips, holding her tightly while he thrust into her fiercely. She met him, welding her own desires to his. Even when they fell off the couch, the hunger wouldn’t be denied. Kylee rose above him, rising off him, then crashing back down, taking control of both their pleasures.

He reached up, taking her breasts in his rough hands, touching her nipples till they were hard points, then leaning up to kiss each one in turn. Without warning, Kylee hit her release, shuddering through it while he held her. He waited, raining kisses over her breasts and face. Then,
when she could go on, she started the rhythm again and felt him surge against her till he filled her with his passion.

When he was spent, he turned her into his arms and cuddled her against him, letting her feel the hammerlike explosions of his heart inside his chest. To Kylee at that moment, it was the most comfortable and safest place in the world.

She kissed his face, and he rolled her over onto her back as he raised himself above her.

“Yes,” she said, looking up into those cerulean-blue eyes.

“Yes,” he agreed, and pressed into her again, finding the center of her even more deeply.

South of Prague, Krystof Scherba’s castle stood on a promontory nearly two thousand feet up from the craggy rocks of the abbreviated bank fronting the Vltava River. The high stone wall, part of it hundreds of years old and part of it only dozens of years old, was topped by state-of-the-art sensors and alarms. A single road, covered in shale, wound up to the castle.

Impenetrable
had come immediately to Kylee’s mind when she’d first seen the structure.

That had been before Mick had told her about the old supply tunnel that led from the castle to the river. The tunnel had been built shortly after the castle had been constructed. According to Mick, a small docking area had once existed inside the mountain of rock. Boats traversed the river bringing supplies to and ferrying trade goods from the castle.

Now the supply tunnel was largely forgotten. Disuse and neglect had turned it into a warren for rats, bats, owls and slippery green slime that evidently got enough moisture from the nearby river to continue growing.

Also, despite the security improvements, the tunnel was largely unguarded. Nearly two hundred years ago, a group of pirates had penetrated the castle through the tunnel and took hostages that were later ransomed at great expense. As a result, the lord of the castle had ordered the tunnel mortared over.

During the short amount of time he had spent there, Mick had discovered that the tunnel led up to the wine cellar. Mick was certain the ancient mortar blocking the supply tunnel would give way easily. Once Scherba had returned to the castle, Mick had intended to rebuild a stronger wall over the tunnel. That hadn’t happened, and the knowledge and Scherba’s laxity now worked in their favor.

No one, to Mick’s knowledge or the research available to Stony Man, had ever attacked Castle Creepstof. The cracker’s wealth was all stored in Swiss and Cayman Island banks, or hidden between the cracks of cyberspace. Anyone breaking into the castle wouldn’t have been able to get through Scherba’s firewalls and encryption codes. Only the CD that Bethany Riggs had uncovered in Cape Town gave them the chance now.

Dressed in black jeans, a black turtleneck, and carrying a black backpack with everything Kylee hoped they would need, she followed Mick through the darkness. She and Mick both wore night-vision goggles from the cache of supplies at the safe house.

They had arrived outside the castle only a short time ago. Scherba remained on his boat, out of Mick’s reach. He had been reluctant to let the man out of his sight, but Kylee had convinced Mick that getting into the computer system was the best revenge he could get for Josef.

They hadn’t talked about what had passed between them, about the physical turn their relationship had taken.
It had been wonderful, but now Kylee felt somewhat guilty. She had taken advantage of Mick while he was vulnerable. Maybe they had taken advantage of each other.

Or maybe they had simply both been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Affairs happened like that, Kylee knew. She’d seen stars on movie sets through situations like that, and later regret it.

She didn’t want to regret what they had shared. It had been wonderful. Even if, in the end, nothing came of it.

It was almost one in the morning. The day’s exertions wore on her, and the last hours in the safe house hadn’t exactly been restful. If it hadn’t been for the adrenaline spiking her nervous system, she felt certain she’d be ready to collapse. Nine minutes after they’d begun their journey at the mouth of the cave that let out onto the Vltava River, they arrived at the plug of mortar and stone that blocked their way.

Mick, also dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans, looked like an alien insect in the night-vision goggles. The single monocular of the NVGs thrust out like a mosquito’s proboscis. He wore a silenced Colt .45 in a shoulder rig and carried an H&K MP5 machine pistol favored by several special forces in armies around the world.

“Ready?” he asked, taking a short-hafted rockhound’s pick and sledge from his backpack.

“Yes.” Kylee took a sledge from her pack and stood on the other side of the mortared plug.

He swung the sledge.

The hollow boom of the sledge meeting the wall filled the tunnel, followed by echoing explosions that faded down the empty space below.

Kylee joined in, getting the timing immediately. Broken mortar dropped from the wall. The work was surprisingly
easy, but the humidity trapped in the enclosed space was murder. In minutes, she was covered with perspiration and her breath began to drag through her lungs.

Mick Stone worked like a machine. Despite the damage he had taken at the hands of Creepstof Scherba’s goons earlier, he seemed tireless and unyielding.

“Can your friend—” Mick asked as he swung “—still see inside the castle grounds okay?”

“Yes,” Kylee answered, certain that was all she had the breath for after the long climb, despite her good physical conditioning.

“No Scherba?”

“No. Just the guards keeping the perimeter and inside grounds under observation.”

Those security people remained with the castle at all times and were a risk, but if everything went right, they would never be encountered. Scherba’s private quarters were off-limits to them.

A moment later, Mick waved her off. Kylee put her sledge down and rested as he inspected the damage they’d done. Her breath whistled against the back of her throat.

“We’re through,” he announced. “Let me have that crowbar.”

Kylee passed him the crowbar from her pack.

Mick attacked the wall with renewed vigor. Chunks of mortar and rocks ranging from fist-sized to cantaloupe-sized dropped from the wall to their feet.

“We’re leaving a mess,” Kylee commented.

“Yeah, well they’re going to know we were here anyway. As long as none of the guards decides to nip on down here for a bit of the grape with their tucker, we should be all right.” Mick knelt and pulled stones out of the way.

Kylee joined him, shifting the rock and chunks of mortar back from the hole he had created.

Mick pulled his gloves on more tightly. “Not much head room, maybe, but I can get through all right.” He squeezed through, duckwalking to avoid the low wall.

Kylee pushed his backpack after him, then passed the H&K MP5 to him. She shoved through her own backpack, then slipped through the opening. They took a moment to clean up the biggest part of the mess made by the forced entry, tossing the rocks and mortar through the hole in the wall.

“Good enough,” Mick said. “As long as one of the guards doesn’t come down here and walk around on this side of the shelves, he shouldn’t notice anything.”

Stray bits of broken mortar cracked under Kylee’s feet as she followed Mick through the low, cavelike wine cellar, past the racks of bottles. He made no noise, moving as effortlessly as a big cat on ball bearings. He kept the silenced MP5 in one hand.

The castle was huge and drafty, and kept mostly in the dark except for a few security lights outside of rooms that weren’t often used. Kylee was thankful for the flannels they both wore under their clothing. The trip along the river had been cold, but having to paddle in the dark for the last mile downriver to reach the castle had warmed them.

The wine cellar stairway let out into the spacious kitchen. Mick picked the lock and peered through, waving her up when he found the coast clear.

As they moved through the kitchen, Kylee planted a few of the F/X boxes from her backpack. Surprises for opponents always aided in get-aways. She also had some C-4 plastic explosive to add to the confusion if necessary. The plan was to come back through the tunnel quietly
once Scherba’s computer had been accessed with the encrypted disk.

From the kitchen, Mick led the way through a formal dining room that could have hosted a Shriners convention, then through the grand ballroom. Moonlight ignited at least a thousand points of light in the massive chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling nearly three stories up.

A curving staircase led up to the second story where Scherba’s den-bedroom was supposed to be. Kylee followed Mick, aware of television noises farther down one of the main floor hallways.

Television noises meant some of the security personnel were nearby. But the thought only sent a thrill of electricity screaming through Kylee’s senses.

Oh, Uncle Keiran, these throwback genes of ours are definitely going to get us killed one of these days.
But the thought didn’t even slow Kylee.

At the top of the stairs, Mick signaled Kylee back against the wall. In the next instant, she heard the scrape of shoe leather against stone that signaled the approach of a guard. The tinny sounds of a Walkman playing industrial music reached her ears as she flattened against the wall.

The man passed them, then some primitive sense seemed to call out a warning to him. He turned in their direction, his hand drifting down for the large pistol holstered on his hip.

M
ick moved out of the shadows like a wraith. The Y between the thumb and forefinger of his right arm caught the man in the throat and silenced the warning cry that had been about to erupt. Mick powered a left to the man’s jaw and laid him out on the stone floor.

As the guard tried to get up, to get away, to draw the pistol from his holster and to breathe, Mick kicked him in the head. The guard fell. Before he could move again, Mick dropped a knee to the man’s back and grabbed his head in both hands.

Kylee had seen the move in a number of action films and knew that Mick was about to break the man’s neck and kill him. Nausea swirled through her stomach. Killing was a part of the spy business, but so far she had managed to stay away from most of it.

“No,” she said.

Mick looked up at her. “Can’t leave him behind.”

“He’s unconscious.”

“No way of knowing how long he’s gonna be unconscious, darlin’.”

“Yes there is.” Kylee took a tranquilizer pistol from her backpack and shot the man in the neck with a liquid hiss. “Six hours. We’ll be in and out of here in that time.”

Mick released the man’s head and stood. The guard lolled, dead to the world. Grabbing the man around the chest, Mick hauled him to one of the bedrooms and shoved him inside.

“We’re still operating on an unknown timetable,” Mick reminded. “We don’t know when this guy checks in with the standing post. He could have been on his way there now.”

“Then we’ll hurry,” Kylee said.

Mick took the lead again.

“Oz,” Kylee said.

“I’m here,” Barbara replied. She was totally cool.

“Just checking.”

“I’ve got your back,” Barbara said. “As long as the communications are working, I’ll be there for you.”

Some of the tension in Kylee’s stomach went away. Stony Man support had always been solid. Her adrenaline levels stayed peaked.

Creepstof Scherba’s private chambers were covered in layered security locks and alarms. Thankfully none of the devices were time-coded, which would have provided an extra can of worms.

Still, penetrating that security took serious time and effort. Kylee worked calmly and quietly, focusing on the tools of the thieving trade, shifting from device to pliers to cutting torch as needed. The cutting torch stressed Mick the most because the concentrated flames and the cutting lit them up, making them easy to spot in the darkness.

“Mick,” she said as she worked.

“Yeah.”

“Where’s the nearest smoke alarm?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Down the hall.”

“Take it out before we trigger it.” Kylee could have done the job herself in seconds, but she knew disabling the device would give Mick something to do instead of try to be patient.

Less than a minute later, he returned. “Done.”

Nine minutes into the process, Barbara said, “Scherba is en route.”

Kylee didn’t pause. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I didn’t trip any alarms. You’re tied in to the external warning lines, right?”

“You didn’t trip any alarms.”

“And if I had tripped something internally, the security on the premises would have been breathing down our necks by now.” Kylee shifted back to the newest lock.

“Yes.”

“It’s a long drive from Prague,” Kylee offered.

“He’s not driving. He’s flying. Remember the helicopter you encountered earlier?”

Kylee swore, drawing Mick’s immediate attention. The castle had a helipad on top of one of the buildings. She brought Mick up to speed.

“Must be the computer,” Mick said. “Maybe he doesn’t trust the one you tampered with and he has a big deal coming up.”

“How long before Scherba gets here?” Kylee asked.

“Twenty-two minutes. How long on the door?” Barbara asked.

“Fourteen. Fifteen. It’s hard to say. Scherba didn’t stint when it came to locking down his inner sanctum.”

“Then you’ve got to use the disk and open a commlink your friends can access.”

“Yes.” Kylee reached for the cutting torch again and saw Mick tense. “You did mention that this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“I did. But you’re going to be cutting it close.”

“Timing, Oz,” Kylee said, feeling the adrenaline surge within her again. Now that the odds had stacked up against her, she felt even more excited by the op. “I’ve always told you timing was everything.”

Fourteen minutes later, Kylee was through the final lock. She shoved her tools into the backpack and followed Mick inside.

The bedroom was opulent, furnished in expensive modern decor, including another round bed like the one on the catamaran. The computer station was to the right, filling the wall from floor to ceiling with peripherals. The ergonomic chair, wired for response to helicopter and fighter jet video games, listed for nearly ten thousand dollars.

“This guy takes his toys seriously, doesn’t he?” Kylee asked.

“Yeah. Hold up.” Mick crossed the room and disabled a laser light alarm that Kylee had already noted and that was on the Stony Man Intel Barbara had prepared. “Okay.”

Moving quickly and confidently, Kylee sat in the chair at the computer, took out the encrypted disk, and brought the machine online. The monitor cleared while she was placing more F/X boxes.

“Scherba is three minutes out,” Barbara stated.

“And the clock is ticking,” Kylee said as she performed the keystrokes that brought the hidden OS online. “Got it.”

Mick remained at her side, but she could feel the tension radiating off him and it jangled her nerves.

Kylee opened a phone line. “Okay, Oz, you should be in.”

The monitor suddenly shifted to a database file-search screen. The cursor moved independently.

“If you’re not in,” Kylee said, “then we’ve got a ghost in the machine.”

“We’re in,” Barbara said. “Let’s see if it has what we’re looking for.”

A file lit up on-screen. The letters and numbers under the file shifted and changed, becoming “Egorov Last Rites.”

“Is that it?” Kylee asked.

“Yes. You two should get clear.”

“In a minute. Let’s make sure you have what you need.” Kylee looked up at Mick.

“We should be going,” he said gruffly.

“We will.” Kylee paused. “So which is it?”

“Which is what?”

“Boxers or briefs?”

For a second, just the barest hint of a second, tough guy Mick Stone looked embarrassed. Then he grinned. “Darlin’, what if I told you I undressed to fit the occasion and went commando?”

“Then,” Kylee said, feeling as though the room had warmed ten degrees, “I’d say you were probably really cold about now.”

Before Mick could make a reply, the monitor cleared and a video presentation rolled. Kylee recognized Kapoch Egorov from the Stony Man files.

The Russian ex-spymaster turned international terrorist sat behind a large inlaid desk. Sunlight glowed against the
windows behind him. He smoked a cigar, letting the blue-gray plume drift over his head.

“By now,” he said in a gravelly voice, “reports of my impending death have doubtless circled the globe.” He smiled without mirth. “Also doubtless, the majority of the world doesn’t care.”

“Oz,” Kylee said, “are you doing this?”

“Negative. The program had a trigger on it we didn’t catch. The second we opened the file, the presentation launched.”

“Launched where?” A cold chill threaded down Kylee’s back.

“Several places. We’re trying to track them now.”

On-screen, Egorov continued speaking. He leaned forward in his chair and his eyes took on a harsh hardness. “But the world will soon care. You will make them care, my friends and compatriots.”

“Do you want me to shut it down?” Kylee asked. She checked the back of the computer and found the communications cable sheathed in steel coils.

“Too late,” Barbara answered. “The transmission went out in a burst. What you’re seeing is a playback. One of the bursts pinged Scherba’s sat-phone e-mail. We were keeping his phone monitored for activity.”

“So he knows we’re here,” Kylee said.

“He knows
someone
is there.”

“Come on,” Mick growled. “Time we were off, darlin’.”

“During my years as a Soviet intelligence officer and those spent self-employed,” Egorov said, “I have amassed a fortune. Now that I am dying, I sadly find that I can’t take those riches with me.” He smiled. “However, I have decided on a most unique memorial to me.”

Hypnotized by the threat inherent in the man’s words, Kylee watched.

“I have begun a money transfer from my hidden accounts around the world,” Egorov went on. “During the next thirty days, there will be a contest. Every group or organization with an ax to grind against the United States or their European counterparts is encouraged to strike, to do their best to bring those countries to their knees. These people have hounded me for years. Now I will have my vengeance.”

Kylee noticed that Mick was frozen at her side, his hand on her shoulder. But he was watching the screen as well.

“At the end of that thirty days,” Egorov said, “an aide I have placed in charge of those monies will choose from among you a champion who has done the most to see that the so-called free world remembers me. The most destruction, the highest body count, the mass terror that is inflicted as a result of these attacks will be taken into account. The chosen champion will receive all those monies I have hidden away for so long. Use it to continue your own war against the United States and their allies. Use it with my blessing.” He smiled. “And kill them all in the name of Kapoch Egorov.”

The screen blanked.

“That son of a bitch is crazy!” Mick exploded. “Do you know what kind of mass murder this is going to cause?”

“Yes,” Kylee said. “Exactly the kind that Egorov had in mind.”

“Move,”
Barbara said. “Scherba is landing
now.
”

Now that the computer speakers had quieted, Kylee heard the dulled throb of helicopter rotors through the thick castle walls. A heartbeat later, Klaxons shrilled
throughout the structure. Emergency lights flared to life in the bedroom and the hallway outside.

“We’re blown,” Mick said. He brought the MP5 up in both hands. “Let’s go.”

“Oz?” Kylee said.

“We’re downloading what we can get from Scherba’s systems,” Barbara said. “We’ll do that till we’re shut down. Go.”

Hauling her backpack over one shoulder, Kylee stood and raced after Mick.

In the hallway, a man reached the top of the stairs and turned toward them with an AK-47 in his hands. A three-round burst from Mick’s MP5 spilled the man back down the stairs.

“Guards have covered the lower floor,” Barbara said.

At the same time, a hail of gunfire turned Mick back from the stairs.

“Crowded down there,” he said. Blood shone on his left cheek where a bullet had narrowly missed splitting his skull.

Kylee relayed the message Barbara had sent.

“Looks like our back door is out,” Mick stated grimly.

“The window.” Kylee pointed at the window at the end of the hallway. “It overlooks the main grounds. We’re only twenty, thirty feet up. We can jump.”

“And then what?”

“There’s a garage full of cars out there.” Kylee raced to the window and yanked the drapes open, revealing the heavy steel bars.

“Well, that tears that,” Mick growled.

Kylee reached into her backpack and took out some of the C-4. Expertly, she jammed the plastic explosives into place and inserted remote controlled detonators.

Mick kept the stairway clear with the MP5. Kylee
counted at least three men who had fallen to his skill with the machine pistol.

“Down,” Kylee ordered, pressing herself against the wall with her back to the window. When Mick had hunkered down as well, she triggered the remote control.

The window blew out in a basso
Boom!
that ripped the bars from the mortar, shattered the glass, and shredded the drapes into flaming tatters.

Partially deafened from the explosion, Kylee rose and triggered the other F/X boxes she had throughout the castle. Maybe they wouldn’t cut down on the number of people confronting them, but they would add to the confusion already in place in the castle, maybe split the security forces.

“Ready?” she asked Mick, yelling just to hear herself.

“As ever, darlin’,” he replied, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

Burning drapes wreathed the window. Kylee ran forward, glanced down and found the grounds in front of the castle clear. With a lithe leap, she vaulted the window and dropped.

As soon as she touched the ground, she let herself roll. The backpack threw off her balance and she had to scramble to her feet instead of rolling up naturally. Mick landed beside her, reaching for her automatically, then seeing that she had managed on her own.

“The garage.” Kylee pointed past the angel fountain that was the courtyard’s centerpiece. Looking silver in the moonlight and golden where the high-intensity security lights hit it, water from an artesian well spewed from a cherub’s mouth.

They ran.

Before they reached the freestanding garage that had housed horses and carriages in the past, the guards spotted
them. Bullets chased them to the structure, then chopped into the stone as Kylee tried the door and found it locked.

She took a C-4 charge from her backpack, slapped it into place beside the lock and turned away to warn Mick. She touched the detonator and blew the lock to smithereens. When she looked back, the door stood ajar.

Trusting her gloves to hold for an instant against the superheated metal, Kylee grabbed the door and wrenched it open.

Emergency lights inside the garage illuminated a dozen expensive automobiles, SUVs and trucks.
Creepstof likes his automobiles, too.

“See anything you like?” Mick asked as he reloaded the MP5 and the .45.

Kylee skipped the more expensive luxury cars like the BMWs and Mercedes coupe because they would have electronic keys. Those couldn’t be hot-wired. Likewise for the upscale SUVs.

The blue-and-white 1965 mint-condition 427 S/C Cobra CSX3000 muscle car stood out like a mongrel at a poodle show. The sports car was a rugged two-seater that housed a 427 cubic-inch powerhouse of an engine. Low slung and equipped with a rear rollbar and side pipes, the Shelby Cobra looked like it was born to run, and it was.