Corrine’s heart was racing inside her chest. The sound of the gunfire rang loudly in her ears. She tried to scream but found she had no voice.
The smell of cordite hung heavy in the air.
A hand reached down and touched her shoulder.
Shaking all over, Corrine looked up, straight into the blue-gray eyes of Ryan Mitchell. Instantly, a tidal wave of relief flooded over her.
“Come on we have to get moving,” said Mitchell as he helped Jen’s mother up onto her unsteady feet.
Corrine stood and looked down at the bodies lying on the floor. She saw Nika lying in a spreading puddle of blood on the floor. Corrine did not feel anything for the woman. In fact, she hoped that the revolting woman was dead.
“How did you find us?” asked Corrine as she looked at Mitchell’s dirty mercenary uniform and disheveled appearance.
“Dumb luck, I was trying doors further down the hallway when I heard voices.”
“The jewels,” said Corrine as she looked down at the container lying on the carpeted floor. Dropping to one knee, she quickly threw the box open and grabbed the first thing she could. Holding the consort’s crown in her hands, she stood and looked over at Mitchell. “We may need this,” she said. “They took Jen.”
“I came as quick as I could. I’m sorry that I’m late.”
“We need to find her,” said Corrine. “She’s being taken to a man called Romanov.”
“Trust me, Corrine, I want her back to, but we have to be careful. I have no doubt that people must have heard the gunfire,” said Mitchell.
Corrine nodded and stepped behind Mitchell.
“They didn’t take her this way,” said Mitchell, pointing back from where he came. “So let’s try this way,” Mitchell said as he headed down the hallway, his reloaded AK at the ready.
Clutching the crown in her hands, Corrine said a silent prayer for Jen. They had something she wanted, and now she had something that they so desperately wanted.
Romanov looked down at his watch. He was growing more and more impatient by the second. Nika should have been back by now. His helicopter stood by waiting to take them all to his yacht anchored off the coast. To Romanov time was precious; every moment that went by was lost forever. Having moved the timetable up by a day, Romanov knew that one slip-up now could irrevocably derail Alexandra’s carefully worked out plans.
He could wait no longer. Romanov ordered that Alexandra with some of Chang’s mercenaries would leave immediately and depart via one of Romanov’s commercial transport jets from the capital. They would head directly to Iceland in order to make sure the site was secure for the bombs’ imminent arrival. Looking down on the hanger floor from his office, Romanov’s temper almost flared when he saw one of Chang’s men dragging Jen with him as he made his way to an armored Hummer parked outside of the building. Nika was still nowhere in sight. What on earth could be keeping Nika? She should have dealt with the older American woman and been back by now. Those who knew him knew that patience was not one of Romanov’s better qualities. Turning to Teplov, he ordered him to go find Nika and tell her that if she was not at the helipad in ten minutes that he would leave without her. Teplov nodded. Calling for a couple of Romanov’s close protection detail to accompany him, he swiftly left the room.
Mitchell turned the corner with his assault rifle tight against his shoulder. He was relieved that there was not a soul in sight. With Corrine close behind, Mitchell cautiously worked his way forward, always ready should someone suddenly step out of the many offices on either side of the hallway.
“Ryan, we’re moving too slow,” pleaded Corrine. “We’re going to lose Jen if we don’t hurry.”
Mitchell felt the same way, but one inattentive moment could cost them their lives. “We’ll get her back,” said Mitchell, trying to reassure Corrine.
They moved down the corridor as fast as Mitchell dared. Coming to a door at the far end of the hallway, Mitchell was about to open it when it suddenly opened. An unsuspecting guard stood there holding the door; his eyes widened at seeing Mitchell standing there with an AK aimed squarely at his chest. The guard instantly froze in his tracks barely an arm’s length away with his hand hovering over his holstered pistol. From behind him, another man almost ran into the guard’s back.
“Move out of the way, you damned fool,” said the man behind the stationary guard.
Adrenaline instantly shot through Mitchell’s veins; he had heard that voice before.
The guard in front of Mitchell saw the momentary hesitation in Mitchell’s eyes when he heard Teplov’s voice. With lightning-fast reflexes, he reached for his pistol holster, hoping to get the drop on Mitchell. He was quick, but not fast enough.
Mitchell fired a short burst into the guard’s chest. His body flew straight back onto a stunned Teplov, sending both men tumbling to the floor.
The sound of the AK firing inside the narrow corridor was deafening. Corrine screamed and brought her hands up to cover her ears as she moved tighter behind Mitchell for protection.
Barely a second later, another guard appeared at the open door with a drawn pistol in his hand.
Mitchell had anticipated the move and fired once, hitting the guard square in the forehead. His head snapped back, a crimson mist spraying the wall behind him.
Mitchell looked over the sights of his AK for any more targets. Seeing none, he turned and then grabbed Corrine by the hand. “We can’t get out that way,” said Mitchell as he started to run down the hallway the way they had come, dragging Corrine with him.
Teplov struggled to pull his weapon from his holster to get a shot off at Mitchell, but the dead man was just too heavy for him, pinning him to the floor. Cursing aloud, Teplov started yelling at the top of his lungs for help.
Corrine’s heart was heavy in her chest. She knew that she had lost her daughter, but she did not intend to give up. She knew they would have another chance if they could get out of the building alive.
Turning a bend, Mitchell slid to a halt. Corrine, close behind, almost tripped over him. A couple of Mauritanian soldiers were standing at the end of the corridor, idly chatting away with their weapons hanging loose by their sides. Seeing Mitchell and Corrine, they foolishly fumbled for their AKs. Mitchell did not bother to aim. Flipping the selector switch to automatic with his thumb, he fired a burst into the soldiers, killing them both in a bloody swath.
Mitchell swore as more soldiers suddenly appeared at the far end of the corridor. Their escape route was blocked.
Mitchell pulled Corrine back around the corner for protection. Keying his throat-mic hidden under his shirt, Mitchell spoke. “Sam…Nate…this is Ryan, over.”
Both instantly responded.
“I’ve lost Jen, but I’ve got her mother,” said Mitchell bitterly. “However, I’ve got a bigger problem than that now. This place is full of soldiers. I’m not going to be able to get back to the helipad. At least, not by the way I got in.”
“We can come and get you,” said Jackson, knowing his friend would never abandon him.
“No way, there are beaucoup bad guys between me and you. Stay where you are, I’ll figure out a way to come to you,” replied Mitchell.
Sam spoke. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing. We have to help.”
Mitchell knew his team would want to charge in like the cavalry riding over the hill to save the day, but there were just too few of them and far too many soldiers waiting outside to turn them into mincemeat if they got too close. “Listen up, everyone,” said Mitchell firmly. “I want you to stick to the original plan. I’ll figure a way out of here. If I am not at the helipad in ten minutes, then leave without me, no arguments.” Mitchell ended the discussion.