“I’m out,” Carrie shouted.
Justin handed her his AK. Carrie fired a few quick rounds.
“Consider it an extreme intel exchange,” Justin said to Derzhavin. “We give you the location of the closest hospital and transport you there, while you give us the intel from the Chechen detainee.”
Derzhavin tried to smile but all he could muster was a distorted grin. “You have a terrible sense of humor,” he said in a weak voice.
“That means you accept?”
The dull thud of a slug rang against the battered sedan. Another bullet hit one of the tires and a blast of air came out with a distinct whoosh.
“You’re leaving me no choice, you son of a bitch,” Derzhavin said and gave Justin a menacing glare.
“Happy doing business with you, sir,” Justin replied in mock politeness. “Carrie, come out and help me get Derzhavin inside the Lada,” he shouted at her.
Carrie nodded. She backed up the car, driving as close as she could to the sedan. The metal back bumper scraped the sedan’s back door and then she stopped.
Justin and Carrie placed Derzhavin in the back seat. As they were propping him up against the seat and one of the doors, Justin went through his pockets and gave him a thorough pat-down. He found no weapons but retrieved two cellphones and a wallet.
“Isn’t it a bit too late for that?” Derzhavin asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“I had you under guard at all times out there, but in the car I’ll have to turn my back to you. I’m taking no chances. And these cellphones of yours will give away our location. We don’t need more complications.” Justin tossed a BlackBerry and an iPhone outside.
Derzhavin bit his lip and looked away.
“I’m not handcuffing you but if you attempt to escape, you’re as good as dead,” Justin said.
Derzhavin shrugged and looked at his bleeding shoulder. “I think you’re overestimating my capacities.”
Justin shook his head as he sat in the front passenger seat. “I never underestimate a man’s basic instinct of survival, especially if the man is Russian.”
Derzhavin produced a genuine smile and a small nod.
Carrie gunned the engine and the Lada roared into life. It jerked forward as Carrie turned the wheel. Faint gunshots came from a distance but no bullets hammered their car.
“Turn left,” Justin said as they neared the main road. “We’ve got to meet someone.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Yuliya was in lying in the back seat of the BMW and Bronislav was working on her leg wound. He had placed a tourniquet about three inches from the edge of the wound and was tying it in a tight knot. The wound had already been patched up with clean gauze.
“How is she doing?” Justin asked.
Bronislav grunted. “Good. She’ll live.”
Yuliya smiled but her face looked ashen in the weak interior roof light of the BMW.
“I’ll be okay. You got Derzhavin?”
“He’s in the Lada and, yes, he’s willing to talk.”
Yuliya blinked in surprise. “How did you manage that?”
“A couple of bullets are good persuasion tools.”
Bronislav nodded. “We’ll take him.”
Justin shook his head. “I have a deal with him. He’ll give me intel and I’ll take him to a hospital.”
“A bad deal.” Bronislav finished with the tourniquet and stood up. “We’ll amend it.”
“No. I gave him my word.”
“He shot Yuliya,” Bronislav said.
“And me.” Justin showed Bronislav his wounded left arm. “But I’m not taking it personally.”
A burst of gunshots came from the main gate of the detention center.
Carrie returned fire from her AK. She was behind the Lada, parked three feet away from the BMW.
Justin and Bronislav crouched down behind the BMW.
“Things cannot go on as if this never happened,” Yuliya said in a slow, frail voice. “We attacked an FSB facility. Derzhavin’s going to come after us.”
Justin processed Yuliya’s words for a moment while gunshots rang in the distance. They were at the edge of the battlefield, still within the effective range of AKs. A bullet hit a few feet away from the BMW’s front bumper, boring a small hole in a snow bank.
“Even if I hand him over, you’ll need Romanov’s authorization before you can kill him,” Justin said in a hesitant voice.
“That can be arranged,” Yuliya said. “Romanov doesn’t need much of a reason, and the prick almost killed me.”
“Give me some time to think about it,” Justin said. “How far to the nearest hospital?”
Bronislav looked around, then reached for his iPhone in one of his jacket pockets. He tapped the keys, produced a map, made a few quick calculations in his mind, then showed the phone to Justin. “Fifteen minutes in that direction.” He pointed to their left, beyond the detention center.
Justin took the iPhone. “Follow us to the hospital. Carrie will patch up Derzhavin as we drive. I’ll make a decision before we get there.”
“I’ll get on the phone with Romanov and seek instructions,” Yuliya said.
“Great.” Justin picked up the first aid kit lying next to Yuliya. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
He walked to the Lada bent at the waist and gave Carrie the first aid kit. Then he returned to the BMW.
“I’ll call you on this phone.” Justin handed Bronislav one of the disposable phones he had bought at the store about half an hour ago. “In ten minutes at the most.”
Bronislav nodded.
“I hope you make the right decision, Justin. I’d hate to have to hunt him again,” said Yuliya. She moved her leg, then winced at the pain.
“I’ll let you know,” Justin said.
Inside the Lada, Carrie had cut open Derzhavin’s jacket and shirt and was soaking up the blood. She had placed her hands on the wound and was applying pressure to control the bleeding. Justin’s eyes met Carrie’s and she nodded at him. Justin belted himself into the driver’s seat.
“Will he die?” Justin asked as he turned the Lada around and drove next to the BMW and away from the center. He thought he heard a bullet thump against the side of the car but could not be sure because of the engine roar and the tires crackling on the gravel road.
“No, not any time soon, anyway,” Carrie replied. “How far is the hospital?”
“Fifteen.”
“I can’t stop the blood flow but he hasn’t gone into shock. I checked and there’s no exit wound. The bullet is lodged somewhere in the shoulder, but I can’t be sure. Let’s hope it didn’t break and no fragments are floating elsewhere in his blood.”
Derzhavin’s face was pale and his breathing was shallow. He looked up at Justin then asked, “Who are those people?”
“FSB agents. And they’re pissed off at their own boss shooting and wounding them.”
Derzhavin studied Justin’s face for a moment. “They were shooting at me, which means they’re working with you. They’re traitors.”
Justin shook his head. “No, they’re patriots. They love their country too much to let its security be threatened by men like you, blinded by pride.”
“Words, meaningless words.” Derzhavin waved a dismissive hand.
“Make the call and ask them to text me the intel you received from Bashir. The list.” Justin handed over his disposable phone to Carrie.
He looked at his left side mirror. The BMW was following closely behind.
“What’s the number?” Carrie asked Derzhavin.
He told her the number and she dialed it. A moment later, she placed the phone next to Derzhavin’s ear. He spoke for a few moments, gave the man the order, followed by a curse, then nodded to Carrie that the call was over.