Dana Marton (11 page)

Parker didn’t have time to linger. The Russians were shooting at him.

He ran down the hallway with Kate, ducked around the next hallway, then the next, opposite to where he heard boots thudding on marble, rebels coming to push the Russians out.

He went for the elevator doors as soon as they reached them, forced his way in and sealed Kate and himself inside.

“Are you hurt?” Kate hung on to the metal ladder for dear life with one hand, while trying to take the mask off with the other so she could talk more easily.

“Keep it on.” His voice came out muffled. “I’m fine. You?” He looked her over carefully.

“I’m okay. Are they taking over the building?” Her voice sounded shaky and weak even beyond the mask’s distortion.

“I don’t think so.” He’d only seen three Alpha troopers come down. “I think it’s another distraction. The main force is probably trying to get in someplace else. Or they could have seen the rebel’s leader through the window and figured if they took him out the rest would give up.”

Not that he knew who the rebel’s leader was. He also had no idea what connection Piotr had to the guy. The operation was full of unknown elements. And what he did know, he really hated—like the explosive belts and Piotr’s little capsules, and the fact that time was running out.

Gunshots sounded directly outside the elevator shaft. Just a few. Still didn’t seem like this was a major battle. More like a small skirmish.

“The rebels found at least one of the hostages. Or, best-case scenario, one of them came up to look around.” He told her what he’d seen on TV: he hadn’t been able to make out the dead man’s face, but he had recognized his clothes. He’d been part of the group in the gym with Kate.

Then came the sound of more shooting.

Russian forces were in the building. The rebels had started killing hostages again. And the whole place was booby-trapped. The situation inside the embassy was as volatile as possible.

“Where are we going next?” Kate asked.

He looked down, thinking of the hostages, wanting to help them. But his first responsibility was to Kate. A circle of light swooped by just above his head. He grabbed for the door.

“Out of here.”

Looked like either the Alpha troops or the Vymple special forces had found the elevator shaft, as well, and had their own plans for it. He hadn’t seen the Vymple team so far—he’d been wondering where they were and what they were up to.

S
HE DIDN’T
think the Russians had seen Parker and her. They didn’t shoot. The elevator shaft was fairly dark and their faces were further darkened by their masks. Although she’d had a white top on at one point, it was now pretty much gray from the coal dust in the chute they had slid down and from all the dirt she’d crawled through in the vent ducts and their other hiding places.

Parker was working his magic on the door and got them out of there in a few seconds. Opening the door let light in and earned them a few shots from above, but they were already out of there too quickly to be in serious danger from that direction.

“Where can we go?”

Sounds of fighting came from the hallways around them. He motioned to the nearest vent covering.
Oh God.
She had so hoped that they wouldn’t have to go back there. But the funny thing was, in the face of men with automatic weapons, having to crawl through a vent didn’t seem nearly as scary as it had before.

He helped her up before coming in after her and closing them in.

“Which way?”

Gunfire sounded from their right. He went left. Didn’t want to risk a stray bullet, she supposed. He moved fast, faster than before. With all the din outside, they didn’t have to worry as much about making noise. She put what she had into it and kept up, tried to keep her breathing slow and controlled. Anyone who thought a tight vent tunnel was claustrophobic never tried being in one with a gas mask over her face. Under different circumstances she would have freaked out a dozen times by now, but Parker’s calm presence and strength radiated over her somehow. She focused on him. He was going to get them out of this.

When they came to a section that led down to the floor below, Parker took it and she was glad for that. She was hoping they would somehow end up near the hostages and be able to help them. She wanted to make sure nothing happened to the kids.

He waited for her at the bottom. Wouldn’t move forward.

“Are you stuck?”

“There’s another capsule ahead.”

She held her breath for a second. Would have held it indefinitely if she could.

“Your mask is on good and tight?”

She checked. “It worked before. It should work now, right?”

“Back there, they used some juiced-up tear gas. This is some sort of chemical weapon. A whole other ballpark.” He moved forward slowly.

She couldn’t see, but he must have reached the capsule because he stopped again.

“Is there a freezer on this floor, too?”

“I wouldn’t think so. Let’s find a window that looks out onto the street.” He picked up the capsule.

They crawled straight for what seemed an eternity. Einstein had been right. Time was relative. Kate was fairly certain that having a chemical weapon ready to blow in your face stretched it.

“We are coming to a T in the duct,” Parker said. And when she didn’t respond, he added, “Could be we reached the outside wall.” He moved up to the next vent cover and stopped there, looked out. He held up two fingers.

Which probably meant two rebels in the room below them that he could see from his vantage point. He motioned to her to move back and she did, then a little more and a little more as he asked for it.

She held her breath as he put the capsule down and pulled his gun, aimed carefully.

Someone shouted below them, then bullets came through the wall, three of them where she had been only moments before. Parker shot again. Twice. Everything fell silent down below.

“Okay. All clear.” He was going down already, caught her in his arms when she crawled after him.

“Are you going to try to throw it out the window?” she asked, keeping her eyes averted from the bodies on the floor.

He nodded, but moved in the opposite direction instead, flicking the light off and plunging them into darkness.

“Just as soon not give them a target. I’m sure there are sharpshooters up front.” He crept to the window and looked out, then stepped aside and pressed himself to the wall next to it, opening the window with one hand.

“What about the people on the street?” she asked.

“I’m sure the French have the street secured by now. Probably the whole block.”

Ornate bars bolted to the walls made it impossible for a person to pass through them. But the capsule would fit.

Parker moved back and took his camouflage shirt off, wrapped the capsule in it, and was left wearing a dark-gray undershirt that stretched over his flat abs and his impressive biceps.

“I don’t want this thing to break and go off,” he said. “I’m aiming for the grassy patch on the traffic island. The French terror response units out there will have someone with the right tools to disable the damned thing.”

He drew the capsule above his head with his right arm, swung a couple of times like a national league pitcher. And then he went for it.

The capsule sailed through the bars without trouble. Floodlights hit the window the next second. Kate squinted against the glaring light, backing away from the window as far as possible. But not before she caught sight of Parker’s arm, heavily bleeding.

“When did you get shot?” She moved toward him instinctively.

Not here. No gunfire came from outside, just the sweeping floodlights.

“Back into the vent. Up, up, up.” Parker was pushing her in front of him, not taking his chances.

“D
ID YOU
get hit in the elevator shaft?” Kate’s voice was thick with concern.

For him. Maybe there was hope for the two of them yet. Parker closed the vent cover behind him, making sure to have it flush against the wall. “Grazed.”

He didn’t want to give her one more thing to worry about.

“You can’t know that. We’ll have to stop somewhere and look.”

“Believe me, a graze on the skin feels different enough from a shot through flesh and bone to know.” He could recall several instances clearly. “You can look at it to your heart’s content when we get out of here. But I think we should get going now.”

“You’ve been shot before?” She began crawling forward, but was moving with clear reluctance.

He followed and kept quiet. He was good at blocking pain, a learned skill most people who were in his line of work eventually developed. You couldn’t let pain distract you on a mission.

“Parker?” Her voice was a whisper, but a sharp whisper. She wasn’t going to let this go.

“The scar on my lower back.”

“Your dog bite?”

“They’re more like shrapnel holes. I’m missing a kidney there.”

“Oh my God.” She sounded genuinely horrified.

“Not that bad. I had a spare.” He made light of it, but the truth was the injury had very nearly cost him his life. If it hadn’t been for Jake Kipper’s quick thinking and expert care, it would have. Jake, who was dead now, along with the wife he had loved more than life itself.

The gunfire was receding in the distance.

“Do you think the rebels beat the Russians back?” she asked.

“I doubt it. Unless that is what the Russians want them to think.”

“I expected a bigger attack.”

“There’ll be one. Count on it. Only three Alpha troopers rappelled into the dining room through the balcony. Could be they only came in to place some hidden cameras so they can figure out how to structure the main attack.”

“How soon do you think that’ll come?”

“I can’t remember any cases when the Russians let a hostage situation go beyond seventy-two hours. After that, it gets hairy for the hostages without food and water and medical care.” And it got dicey for the Russian authorities, who didn’t like to appear as though they didn’t have everything under control.

She reached a point in the duct where she could go down one more floor and did, making a slight noise that he didn’t think would be noticed under the circumstances. The rebels would be focused on the intruding force, distracted by intermittent gunfire.

He slid down behind her, holding his arms out to control his fall. She had already moved forward in the duct to make room.

“We’re on the ground floor now. West corner of the building,” he told her.

“Can we get out through here?”

“The front entrance is probably heavily secured by the rebels. The back doors to the courtyard probably have a half dozen high powered rifles aimed at them.”

“Where can we go, then?” she asked.

He could hear the desperation and the panic in her voice, but to her credit she didn’t show any of that in her actions. “Back to the basement.”

Her shoulders relaxed. Probably from the thought of being back with the girls again. “Good. We can stay put with the hostages until the Alpha Team or whatever takes the rebels out.”

“Or not. I think it’s time to get out of this place.”

“But you said there was no way out of the basement.” She glanced back at him.

He grinned under his gas mask and lifted his shoulder to jiggle the belts of TNT. “We are about to make one.”

Kate picked up speed. Looked like she was fully behind the idea.

“Keep an eye out for funny-looking capsules,” he said. There were still a number of things that could go disastrously wrong. But this was the only one he wanted to bring to her attention. The others they could do nothing about so there was no sense in wasting energy worrying over them.

“You think there’s more?” Her voice was hesitant, but she didn’t slow.

“So far we picked up one on the third floor and one on the second floor. Piotr couldn’t have smuggled in many more without his buddies seeing it.”

“You don’t think the other rebels know about the capsules?”

“I don’t think so. Remember how he kept looking over his shoulder while we watched him place the first capsule on the security video? I think this is his private agenda. He managed to lure his archenemy into this building. He’s going to take the guy out no matter what it takes. Even if it means killing the rest of the rebels or killing himself, too, in the process. Keep your mask on and be prepared for anything.”

They crawled in silence for a while before she asked, “How long has it been since the rebels took over?” Then she shook her head and gave a small groan. “It’s bad enough I lose all sense of directions in the ducts. Now I’m losing my sense of time.”

“Happens when you don’t get enough sleep. And don’t get enough outside light. And when you’re under attack,” he added after a moment. “Combat time doesn’t feel like real time. It takes a while to get used to it.”

Amazing that she had held up as well as she had, that she wasn’t sobbing in some corner yet, hadn’t given up. She was a strong woman, something he had always loved and respected about her. He glanced at his watch. “Two and a half days.”

“What about it?”

He was getting used to the raspy way her voice sounded through the mask. It didn’t remove any of the sexiness.

“That’s how long we’ve been here,” he said. “Two and a half days.” And he was frustrated as hell that he hadn’t been able to get her to safety in all that time.

“That can’t be right,” she said hesitantly.

“Seems half as long, doesn’t it? Time flies when you’re fighting for your life.”

“The fighting picked up,” she said.

“The Russians are about to start a full-out attack.”

“How long do we have?”

“A couple of hours at best.”

If they were lucky. If they weren’t, they could have a lot less than that.

But even if they did reach the basement, there was no guarantee that the hostages were still there, that any of them were still alive. He had played down the scene he had caught on TV—that man being thrown from the balcony. But he was only too aware of the implications.