As he neared the door, he heard Dimitri call out, "Wait, one more thing." He saw Markov reenter the room, his hand still holding the door ajar.
"You will report any orders you receive from Gregor. Should you fail to do so, you'll end up with him in an unmarked grave. Any questions?"
"No, Comrade."
"You're dismissed."
The cold words washed over Gregor and he quickly retreated through an open door in the hallway to prevent Markov from seeing him. He rested his head against a cool wall in the farthest corner of his hiding place, realizing it would be futile to try and reason with Dimitri. He was a walking dead man.
Stormy didn't greet them at the door when they entered the apartment, and failed to appear when Kris shook the box of treats the little feline loved. "I think she's mad at us."
Shelby nodded. "Can't blame her, we've been gone so long."
After they showered, Kris helped Shelby apply a new dressing to her arm, and the two women walked into the living room to unwind before retiring. Stormy stood up on the couch, meowing loudly.
Shelby chuckled. "I think she's telling us she forgives us this time. Guess we better try and make it up to her."
Kris rolled her eyes, but was no less enthusiastic in greeting the ragamuffin who purred contentedly, rising up to meet the soft strokes being lavished upon her.
They had just decided to go to bed, when the phone rang.
Shelby glanced at the phone, surprised. Late phone calls were always bad news, but she hesitated only momentarily before answering it. "Hello."
Listening intently, she waited for a pause and then handed the phone to Kris. "I think it's your mother."
Watching the brief play of emotions that flickered across Kris' countenance, Shelby marveled at the ease with which the operative switched to her native tongue, the guttural sounds rolling freely from her throat. While on a logical level, she knew Kris wasn't an American as she'd originally thought, that knowledge didn't diminish the strangeness of hearing her converse with her mother in Russian.
She welcomed the opportunity to observe a facet of her partner that hadn't been previously revealed, reminded once again of just how little they really knew about each other, and treasuring what she did.
A few short minutes later, Kris hung up the phone. She gazed at Shelby, her eyes worried. "Dimitri just wanted to remind me I've only got a couple more days to deliver your password. Very clever way to do that."
"How's your mother holding up?"
"She's doing fine. Her only contact with anyone is when her meals are served. The hardest part for her is being so isolated, with nothing to do." Kris looked down at the floor. "She told me not to worry about her, she's not afraid of dying. Just to take care of myself. Then Dimitri took the phone from her."
Shelby put her arm around Kris, hugging her. "At least we know she's still okay."
Returning the hug, Kris said, "Yeah. You're right. Guess we'd better get some sleep."
Kris lay awake in the darkness, desperately seeking a viable plan to find her mother, and continuing to draw a blank. Short of kidnapping Markov or Gregor, she had no idea of how to find her mother. If either of them disappeared, she would be the primary suspect, and Kris had no doubt Dimitri would immediately retaliate by killing her mother. Frustrated, she continued to search for a solution until her thoughts were interrupted by the quiet voice of her partner.
"Kris?"
"Hmm?"
Shelby nestled closer, concerned about the tension radiating from Kris. "You need to relax. You're so tight, you'll never fall asleep. Let your subconscious do the work. In the morning we can figure out a plan."
Kris sighed. "I just keep coming up empty."
"I know, sweetheart. I do, too. I think we both need a good night's sleep. We'll figure out something."
Knowing she was keeping Shelby awake, Kris focused on clearing her mind and relaxing. She leaned over and met her partner's lips for a sweet, lingering kiss, then hugged Shelby tightly, carefully staying clear of her partner's injured arm, her own soreness overshadowed by the comforting feel of the small body tucked against her own.
She smiled when Shelby returned the hug with her good arm, both relishing the contact and drawing strength from the other. Long moments later, their arms relaxed, but even as they entered the dreamscape, their bodies remained closely connected.
CHAPTER 17
MICHAEL RELAXED ON the rooftop of a building across the street from the apartment complex for an hour before deciding it was safe enough to venture down to the parking lot he had under observation. He would've preferred to continue discrediting Blue by waging further attacks against the woman she was protecting, but he was running out of time.
In his mind, he'd already disgraced her with the shooting earlier in the week, and now he was going to execute a coup de grace. Both women would die, but his goal would be accomplished because Blue's reputation would be forever sullied - not only by the successful attack earlier in the week, but also by her ultimate failure to protect either of them against a car explosion.
The operative ran through his plan one last time. He'd discarded the idea of just setting the bomb to detonate when the car was started, knowing that the CIA would quickly cover up any incident on their own grounds. Having seen a dark car drive through the parking lot several times that night, he suspected that Company agents were keeping an eye on the building, so it stood to reason that any mishap on these grounds would be quickly covered up as well.
Michael knew his window of opportunity was rapidly disappearing, but he was unwilling to give the Company a chance to conceal his handiwork, so he'd broadened the focus of his attack. He grinned coldly, thinking about the modifications he'd made to the device while waiting on the roof. Their demise would be dramatic, public, and newsworthy. Knowing the women had to travel the beltway to get to and from work, the agent had reset the detonator to explode at 53mph. Michael felt no guilt over the innumerable accidents that were likely to occur as a result of the fiery explosion. When burning metal peppered the beltway, the accident would become a headliner, and Blue's failure would be spectacularly accentuated.
Staying in the darkest of the shadows, he approached the green Ford Taurus Blue had rented and knelt down between it and the vehicle parked in the adjoining space. He removed his backpack, unzipped it, and carefully took out the small explosive device along with the tools he would need to reach the speedometer cable. Lying down on the blacktop, he scooted under the car.
Michael armed the bomb after installing it, and smiled when the tiny red light came on. He scooted back out from under the car, satisfied that although the device was small, the devastating power of C4 would create an explosion equivalent to a half dozen sticks of dynamite and turn the car into a fireball. Shortly after they merged with traffic on the beltway, the two women would be dead.
When finished, he glanced at his watch. It was 3:45 a.m. It had only taken him twenty minutes. Michael's smile widened as he carefully checked the parking lot before rising to his full height and casually walking away.
Kris woke instantly alert, as she did every morning. The primary difference in her waking routine now was that she no longer got out of bed immediately, much preferring to enjoy the precious little time she got to spend lying next to the woman she loved more than life itself.
Kris snuggled closer, relishing the feel of Shelby's soft skin against her own. It was such a heady feeling to wake up each morning with the smaller woman tucked against her, and to know that even in sleep their bodies remained connected, comforted by the contact.