“Holy shit,” he said under his breath. He backtracked and shouted up the stairs. “Moynihan, you okay?”
“Yeah, nothing up here,” she said.
He heard her staccato footsteps navigate down the stairs to the basement. He hadn’t had a chance to warn her. When he turned in her direction, she was frozen, with her hand held to her mouth.
“Oh my God…” she said, followed by an audible swallow.
Sanders had already gone into the control room to check the surveillance equipment. The system still showed that an alarm had been triggered and the time that had lapsed. He pushed the button to reset the sensors and checked the monitor bank to verify they were alone. He fumbled with the controls in an attempt to pull up the recording of his men being taken down.
Working the surveillance gear had always been Scott Richardson’s job, and he was lying in a pool of his own blood just outside the door. Sanders had only managed to make the computer screen a jumble of windows. He shook his head in frustration.
“We’ll have to get someone out here to examine the video feed. These systems are cut off from the rest of the world.”
Sanders noticed she had taken the shock well and was impressed that she hadn’t tossed her cookies.
“Whoever did this already took off,” he said.
Moynihan pointed out the bright side. “I guess that’s not such a bad thing.”
They shared a look, knowing the carnage could have just as easily included them.
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah,” he said, “it sure could have.”
He walked into the room with his dead men, and now that he had calmed down, the overpowering metallic smell of blood overpowered his senses.
Moynihan motioned toward the basement door and dashed up the stairs. Her footsteps gave way to muted heaving sounds.
“Take your time,” Sanders yelled out the doorway. “I need to make a call.”
Her puking would have been funny for him if the situation wasn’t so fucked up.
Sanders took out his phone and called Director Culder.
“What do you have for me?” he answered.
Sanders closed his eyes and said, “I’ve got two men dead, one missing.”
“It had to be Simpson.”
Jake Sanders knew they had worked together long enough for Culder to trust him.
“I’ll deal with it. I’ll figure out what’s going on.”
He turned toward the door when he heard Moynihan coming down the stairs and cupped his hand over the mouthpiece.
“Your other agent is in the yard. Single bullet to the head like the others. I’ll call this in,” she said.
“No,” Sanders blurted out a little louder than he would have liked. He covered the receiver with his hand more tightly before continuing. “No,” he told her, this time more composed. “I’ve got the director on the line now. I’ll take care of this. Turn off your cell phone as a precaution. I’ve got a spare in the truck we can use. Mine’s off after this call.”
Sanders could tell she wasn’t crazy about the order but knew she would also be concerned about whom they might be dealing with. He whisked her back up the stairs with his hand.
“She’s there then?” Culder said.
“Yeah, and make it three dead.” He looked down at his men. The team was now down to two.
“This is not good. She knows too much,” the director said. “Are we going to have a problem?”
“No. No problem with her.” Sanders knew he wouldn’t like the director’s plan for resolution. “Our problem is with the team. It’s just me and Pagano, so we’ll be extremely limited until we do some recruiting.”
“That’s something we can figure out later. We can’t have any loose ends, not with what’s going on.”
Sanders took a deep breath, annoyed at the lack of immediate commitment with bringing the team back up to full strength. He was already used to the absence of condolences.
“We can still use her. No loose ends. If I sense there’s a problem, I’ll deal with it.”
“Good. Keep me informed,” Culder said.
Chapter 52
Images of the dead men were still ruling her thoughts when she felt the car come to a stop. This time the driver turned the engine off. Maria Soller estimated they had been driving for forty-five minutes, maybe an hour. She had no idea where they had been taken, but she was thankful they were both still alive. Every time she felt panic beginning to set in, she’d will herself to stay strong, like her mother would. She hung on to the hope that it would only be a matter of time before her mother’s friend swooped in and rescued them from this mess. She didn’t even know who the man was, but he was the glue that was keeping her together. His invisible presence helped her focus on doing her part and staying alive.
The nervous moment of silence was broken by the sound of the door opening, immediately followed by a harsh voice.
“Get out,” it said.
Both of the girls rose from a fetal position in the backseat and eased their way out of the car. They had rank-smelling hoods over their heads, and their hands had been zip-tied behind their backs.
“Faster,” he barked.
Her legs were unsteady from being cramped up in the car for so long. He prodded her along every nervous step as the smell of rotting trash joined the assault the filthy hood had already launched against her senses. She could hear Melody Millar starting to sob again, and she feared for both of them. When Melody had cried loudly in the car, they had been relentless. The men spoke freely in Russian amongst themselves, and not knowing what they were saying caused a panicked feeling to surface. Her foot kicked into something solid, and it made a metallic sound.
He stopped her progress and said, “Step up.”
She brought her foot up and he barked, “Two more.”
She heard a door open and sensed she was entering some kind of building. Her mind had transformed the cover over her head into a hiding place, so she hoped they wouldn’t take it off. His powerful hand pressed down on her shoulder.
“Sit!” he said.
The chair was cold and ripped her mind from its hiding place. She could hear Melody starting to cry again and realized the sudden chill from the chair had frightened her too. She needed to calm her down.
“It’s okay, Melody,” she said. “We’re going to be okay.”
“Silence,” he yelled.
His voice made her jump and managed to set the teenager off. This time her crying was much worse. She knew trying to help her would end badly, so she silently prayed that she would be okay. Melody’s sobs became muffled, and Soller heard ruffling sounds from her direction. She shut her eyes tight and tried to block out the sounds. The rustling stopped, and she clenched her fists, gripped by fear.
“I said silence,” he demanded, this time in a more sinister tone.
The room was now quiet, and Soller’s hands began to shake. There was a massive heave as Melody gasped for air. Soller was relieved to hear her breathing but was afraid she would go into hysterics. She listened as Melody started to catch her breath. There was only one convulsive sob before she quieted down.
She could hear traffic in the distance, and she wished it were closer — close enough for someone to hear her scream. Maria Soller was too scared to speak. She didn’t know if they were alone, and all she wanted to do was help the poor girl.
She concentrated on the sound from the cars. Every time a vehicle passed, she imagined its make and model as a way to occupy her mind and cope with the fear. She listened intently and tried to discover anything new that might help take her away from this hell.