Her guards came to a heavy metal door at the end of the hallway and halted, waiting while the sergeant fumbled with his keys and unlocked it. When the door swung open, a sickly-sweet stench wafted inside — the smell of diesel exhaust mixed with rotting garbage. Erin gasped softly. The door opened out onto the back of the headquarters building, into a narrow alley crowded with overflowing trash bins. Where were they taking her?
Several men wearing Russian Army uniforms were busy hurriedly loading an odd assortment of long crates and boxes onto a pair of canvas-sided URAL trucks parked just down the alley. Two officers, one tall and slender, the other somewhat shorter, stood with their backs to her, supervising the loading process. Another man, much younger and wearing civilian clothes, waited beside a black ZIL sedan — an official staff car of some kind. Five shapes swathed in drab-green army blankets lay on stretchers lining one side of the alley. When two soldiers picked up the first stretcher and carried it toward a truck, an arm fell out from under the blanket — dangling lifelessly until one of the men shoved it back out of sight. To her horror, she realized the blanket-shrouded shapes were corpses.
She hesitated in the doorway, unwilling to go further. Fears that until then had been largely abstract, the product of her own imagination, were rapidly becoming real.
“Let’s go, Little Miss Precious,” the sergeant grumbled. He grabbed her arm and hustled her down the small set of steps. She briefly considered resisting but decided against it. Fighting back would only give the odious twerp another excuse to paw her body.
Still gripping her arm, the militia noncom marched her up behind the tall army officer, stamped his feet as he came to attention, and loudly announced, “The female prisoner you wanted, Colonel!”
Erin had to stifle another astonished gasp when the soldier turned around.
Valentin Soloviev stared down at her without a hint of recognition. “An attractive specimen, Sergeant. You’ve enjoyed having her in your custody, eh?”
“Yes, Colonel.” The middle-aged jailer smirked. “Makes a nice change from the usual riffraff we get. A real tasty morsel.”
“Yes.” Soloviev pulled his eyes away from Erin to study the militia NCO. A look that mingled disdain and anger flickered across his face before he nodded toward the door in polite dismissal. “Thank you, Sergeant. That will be all. I’ll take charge of this prisoner now.” His voice hardened. “But you can be sure I will remember everything you have done.”
The words were pleasant enough, but something about the way he said them sent a shiver down Erin’s spine and wiped the self-satisfied smile off the militiaman’s pudgy face. Suddenly pale, her jailer hurried back into the headquarters building.
After the door swung shut behind him, Soloviev swung back to face her. “My dear Miss McKenna. I sincerely hope you’re all right?”
Speechless with relief, she could only nod.
“Good.” The Russian smiled then. He inclined his head toward where the other man wearing an army officer’s uniform stood, still with his back to them. “I would introduce you to my new aide-de-camp, but I believe you already know each other.”
He raised his voice. “Captain Banich?”
Erin could scarcely believe her eyes when Alex Banich spun lightly around to face her.
He grinned faintly. “Hello, McKenna.”
“Alex!” The knowledge that he was safe and free brought feelings she’d been holding back for months to the surface in a torrent. All the game-playing, teasing, and tiptoeing around real emotion disappeared in the abrupt realization that she was in love with this quiet man. Without thinking, she was in his arms.
Neither of them saw the fleeting look of sadness and disappointment cross Soloviev’s normally impassive face. It disappeared as suddenly as it had come.
Reminded of where they were by a discreet cough from the Russian, Erin pulled away slightly from Banich. She fingered the thick cloth of his uniform tunic and looked closely at him. “How on earth did you…”
“Not me. Him.” Banich nodded toward Soloviev. Talking fast, he filled her in on the events of the past several hours. When he came to the marshal’s decision to intervene on EurCon’s behalf, he slowed down and looked away as he continued, “The colonel has a plan to stop Kaminov in his tracks, but he needs our help to pull it off.”
“Our…” For the first time, Erin noticed Mike Hennessy and Phil Teppler among the Russian enlisted men loading the two trucks. Both saw her looking at them and grinned back. She turned her gaze on Soloviev. “Am I included in this plan of yours, Colonel?”
“Regrettably no, Miss McKenna. Mr. Banich and the others have weapons skills we will need. You do not.” The Russian sounded relieved more then regretful. He pointed to the young man waiting next to the ZIL sedan. “Plekhanov there will escort you back to your embassy instead. Taking you where we must go would only expose you to grave danger without purpose.”
Banich seconded that. “He’s right. Besides, somebody has to fill Washington in on what’s happened already and what may yet happen if we fail.”
Erin looked again at the uniform he was wearing. “Then at least tell me what you’re going to try to do.”
He shook his head sadly. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” she demanded. Fear for him made her tone sharper than she’d intended. “Don’t you trust me?”
“You know I do.” Banich put his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. His voice grew quieter. “But we’re about to do something that’s absolutely illegal. If we fail, I’ll probably be dead. Even if we succeed, I could still be crucified by the Agency, the Congress, or the courts. Whatever happens, I don’t want you dragged down with me. Keeping you at least partly in the dark is the only way I can make sure that doesn’t happen. Can you understand that?”
“Yes,” Erin whispered softly, fighting back tears. Crying now wouldn’t help either of them. She wiped her eyes and forced a smile. “But you’d better not get yourself killed, Alex Banich. I look awful in black.”
He grinned tightly himself, appreciating the effort she was making to keep her sorrow at bay. “Understood, McKenna.” Then he leaned forward and kissed her.
Soloviev’s voice broke in on them. “It’s time we were on our way, Mr. Banich. The trucks are loaded.”
“Coming, Colonel.” Banich gently disengaged himself from her embrace. He kissed her again, softly this time. “I’ll be back.” Then he stepped back.
The Russian moved in front of him. “I will say my goodbyes here, Miss McKenna. Whatever happens, I do not believe that we will see each other again.” The tall colonel bowed slightly, then straightened up. He smiled gravely. “You know, you really are a most remarkable woman.”
Erin had the strange feeling that the man wanted to say more and couldn’t.
Abruptly Soloviev turned away, striding toward the waiting trucks. Banich fell in beside him. One after the other, the two men swung themselves up into the cab of the lead truck.
As soon as they were inside, powerful diesel engines coughed to life and the trucks lurched forward. She lifted her hand briefly in a silent farewell, then stood watching as they rolled out of the alley onto Petrovka Street and disappeared from her sight.
The two canvas-sided trucks rumbled down the highway, rolling south at a steady sixty kilometers per hour, well within the legal speed limit. None of the men crowded aboard each vehicle wanted to attract any unnecessary attention to themselves or their cargo.