“I’m fine. They just keep sedating me with something. I don’t know what it is. One prick and I’m out of it. Are you hurt?” Her voice sounded normal but tense.
“I’m fine,” he said, trying for his own normal voice. “Just, you know, hanging around.”
She choked a laugh, and then reprimanded him. “That’s not funny.”
“Sorry. How did you get here?” He wasn’t going to mention her escape, he didn’t want to remind her that she didn’t trust him…because trussed up like a dead cow on a hook, he probably didn’t instill trust now either.
“Victoria. My reporter friend? She offered me an escape route when the police were closing in on me, and when I opened the car door, he was holding a gun on me.” She nodded toward the door he’d disappeared through. “Are you really all right? You look like hell.”
He shrugged and then winced. “My shoulders is all,” he said, trying to position himself on his toes to relieve some of the strain.
“This is bad isn’t it? They can’t let us go now. Victoria has basically outed herself as a Russian…what? An agent? Collaborator?”
“I suspect she’s an SVR operative, like the suit. Probably deep undercover. She’ll either have to go back to Russia, or yes, eliminate anyone who knows who she is.” There was no point sugarcoating it. “But I’m going to get us out of here. So don’t worry about that.”
Her expression was blank, and he suddenly saw what she saw. A helpless washout, hanging from a meathook in a disused warehouse. How could she possibly have faith in him?
He hoped he could prove her—and maybe himself—wrong.
Hoped.
“I’m so sorry to get you involved in this, David,” she said. “This is all my fault.” She couldn’t even look at him.
“It’s not your fault, it’s Peterson’s fault. And the fucking Russians’ fault. But don’t worry, we’re going to take the whole outfit down when we get out of here.” He hoped he sounded confident, but the frown didn’t fall from her face, so probably he didn’t manage to convince her.
The door slammed again, but he didn’t have the energy to spin around and lose his tenuous grip on the floor with the toe of his shoes.
He looked inquisitively at Molly who mouthed “Victoria” at him.
“You’re both awake. That’s great,” she said in her perfect East Coast accent.
David wondered how long she’d been undercover. He wasn’t going to say anything unless pressed. Chatty Cathies never won the day. Made it too easy for their captors to get what they wanted.
“So,” she continued, as if they were all at some kind of cocktail party. “My people tell me that Doubrov passed you something before he was shot.” She paused for a second as if collecting her thoughts. “He asked to see you, didn’t he?”
Molly started, and David went still. Doubrov asked to see Molly? She hadn’t told him that. A bad feeling wafted through the warehouse like an unwelcome draft. What else hadn’t she told him?
Victoria noticed her response. “I see I am right.” She also seemed surprised. Molly needed to learn a poker face or she was going to give Victoria everything she needed.
“I’m not telling you anything,” Molly said. Her voice wavered but her gaze didn’t. She was one hell of a woman. He looked around for something to use as leverage. Anything that would get him free.
“You have to, sweetie. We don’t have much time. If you tell me what I need to know, I’m going to let you go. Leave you here, obviously, but you’ll be free eventually. I think the warehouse workers start work at seven a.m. on Monday.
David shook his head at Molly from behind Victoria’s head. Don’t believe her. It was a convincing effort from Victoria. Hardship, pain, starvation, but no death. It sounded plausible, but he didn’t believe her for a moment. He willed Molly not to fall for it. But in all honesty, half of him wanted to know what she knew too. Obviously she’d been keeping things from him too. More evidence that she didn’t trust him. Okay. He steeled himself. He probably couldn’t ever persuade her that she could trust him. But he could persuade himself that he was trustworthy.
The only thing he knew was that if the Russians wanted information, he wasn’t going to give it to them. Wait, what had she said? Time was running out? That didn’t sound good. Not good at all. There had to be a larger picture. The big operation that Russia was planning at the G20 meeting? Had to be something huge. Devastating.
David ran through everything he knew. Victoria becomes Peterson’s girlfriend to get the in on the DOS end of their diplomacy. Maybe she gets drunk, and says enough to tip Peterson off. Peterson taps Molly to pass Doubrov a note warning him that the Russian finance minister was going to be taken. But by whom? Why? It all sounded too Cold War to be plausible.
The engraving on the pen that had been used as the connection point of the improvised explosive. Victoria was the hardcore operative he and Mal had discussed. She’d killed Doubrov… His mind stuttered. He remembered what he’d been thinking about when he’d been drugged. The second shot. The first shot had taken Doubrov out, but only because Molly had bent down to pick up the note.
Molly had been the target. Victoria had been trying to kill Molly.
Jesus, the pain was really focusing his mind. “Don’t tell her anything, Mol. She’s the one who tried to kill you, but got Doubrov instead.” He needed to get Victoria’s attention on him.
“Did you get into trouble when you accidentally killed Doubrov instead of Molly? Are you tying up loose ends by killing us both? Will you also kill Peterson? Your boyfriend? You want to know how I knew it was you? You used your own monogrammed pen as your trip-wire contact blocker.”
It worked. She snapped open a baton and wacked him across his stretched ribs. His feet gave way and he swung, the pain humming though him like the echo of a choirboy’s last note.
“That wasn’t my fault. I had to improvise. My target spotter couldn’t spot his own ass in a mirror. I know who you are, Sergeant David Church. Explosive Ordinance Disposal. If it had been anyone but you, my bombs would have gone off as planned and none of this would have happened. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.” She punctuated each word with a lash of her baton.
He grit his teeth and shouted through them, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing him groan or fucking whimper in pain, which is what he wanted to do. SERE training. Don’t give the enemy the psychological advantage. If you’re scared, in pain, or weak, act angry.
“Don’t!” Molly said. “I’ll tell you anything you want. Just don’t hurt him. He didn’t have anything to do with this. I just met him here. I’m the one you need to talk to. Although I’m afraid it’s too late for you.”
David’s head snapped up. What the fuck was she talking about? Victoria’s attention was one hundred percent on Molly now. He looked up at the binds around his wrists that were attached to the chain. When she’d hit him and he’d weighed down on them, he’d felt them rip a bit.
“I knew you weren’t just the innocent bystander my boss thought you were,” Victoria said, leaning in satisfaction against a wooden table and folding her arms across her pink jacket. “Tell me more.”
“I want some water first. For me and David. Then I’ll talk,” Molly said, coughing for effect.
Victoria screwed her face up for a second, and then shrugged. “Okay. But if you don’t talk…what am I saying? Of course you’ll talk. You really have no choice.”
She made the long walk to the door of the warehouse and slipped out. “What are you doing? She will kill you once you’ve given her what she wants. It was you she was after in the first place.” His heart was racing at the little time they had.