Flynn strained to see her piercing blue eyes but couldn’t make them out in the thick darkness still awaiting dawn’s first ray of light.
“How do you know about the Kuklovod? I never even heard about them until a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah, well, they’ve been around a while — but I didn’t learn about them until I had a client ask me to track down the bastards who stole a shipment of their long-range missiles. Turns out, it was the Kuklovod.”
“Wait a minute. I thought you worked for a private security firm.”
“I did. But I’ve moved on. I was getting bored.”
“So you’re working for some arms dealer now?”
“Kind of. More like an arms broker.”
“Is that what you’re doing here? Trying to get your weapons back?”
“Yes, I am. And maybe I’ll get you to help me do it.”
“I can’t do that, Lexie. I’ve got orders.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you went off script. Now grab your stuff. We’ve got to hike out of here before daybreak.”
CHAPTER 49
Gerald Sandford barely slept more than thirty minutes at a time. His mind raced with the endless possibilities of what might happen in the coming days — both to his country and to his family. Fear turned to anger turned to disgust. It was a cycle that ran on repeat in his mind until the first light of day struck his bedroom window.
He crept out of bed so as to not wake his wife and went to brew himself a pot of coffee. With the way things had been going, he considered spiking it with vodka. Sunday usually meant peace and quiet, but he suspected he wouldn’t sniff either of those two ideals today — or maybe for quite some time.
His coffee pot sputtered, spitting out the last remaining drops of its brew before signaling its completion with a steamy hiss. Sandford poured a cup and sat down to clear his head for just a moment. Then his phone buzzed.
“What’s taking you so long?” asked the man on the other end. “I thought we had an agreement.”
Caught off guard, Sandford stammered through his answer. “I–I am working on it. It’s complicated.”
“Well, our guy made it a lot less complicated for you by making you President. Now it’s time for you to uphold your end of the bargain… that is, if you ever want to see your daughter alive again.”
Sandford grew enraged.
“Now you listen here. If you as much as touch a hair on her head—”
“What? You’re gonna do what? Come and get me? Promise death and destruction to my entire family?” The man laughed. “You’re so pathetic. No, you are going to listen to me. If I don’t see missiles in the air within the next twenty-four hours, I’m going to take care of things my way. And I can promise you that you won’t like how I take care of things. Do you understand me?”
Sandford nodded, too scared to speak.
“I know you’re nodding, but I need to hear you say it.”
Sandford mumbled a yes before jumping up from his chair and looking around the room. He headed straight for the window with the clearest vantage point into his house and searched for someone who might be watching him. Nothing. The street was quiet and vacant. His eyes shifted back and forth again as he contemplated how his every movement might be visible to someone he believed to be thousands of miles away.
“I’m glad we’re clear. So, missiles in the air within twenty-four hours or else Sydney dies.”
The line went dead.
Sandford fell into his chair and tried to hold his coffee. He couldn’t. His unsteady hands led to a hot stream of coffee boring through his bathrobe and into his skin. He set the mug down and buried his head in his hands — and wept. It was bad enough to lose Sydney once. Now he was going to lose her all over again unless he found a way to launch those missiles and start another war.
He promised himself he would find a way.
CHAPTER 50
Todd Osborne loathed the term “going dark.” He preferred “flying blind” because that’s what his agents were doing. In the meantime, Osborne was left in the dark, wondering what was happening, wondering if he’d ever see a particular “agent” alive again. It proved to be a legitimate fear on more occasions than he cared to recall. He hoped Flynn was up to the task — and that he hadn’t gone dark just yet.
Osborne’s last communication with Flynn came hours ago when he learned the QSST had been shot down by the Russians and that his asset on the ground was located by a team of soldiers, probably Russian military — though he couldn’t be sure. Every rebel faction acted like they owned the country, even if it was just a sliver of land in the godforsaken Ural Mountains. But if air support was involved, it was likely the Russian government. He just hoped all his precautions to keep the plane from being traced back to the U.S. worked.
Domestically, Osborne felt like he was juggling chainsaws as he tried to keep Sandford from blasting off a few missiles at Russia. The rumors of dissention among President Briggs’ cabinet had begun circulating among intelligence circles in Washington. It was only a matter of time before something drastic and bad happened. If Sandford let things get too personal, it was going to be a mess.
Osborne’s phone buzzed. Speak of the devil. It was Sandford.
“Hello, Mr. President. What can I do for you?”
“I need your help and I need it fast.”
“Slow down. What’s wrong?”
“I got another call from somebody in Russia and they’re going to kill Sydney if I don’t launch missiles in the next twenty-four hours.”
“Sir, are you sure about this?” Osborne hoped it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.
“Sure as I’ve ever been. They even texted me a picture of Sydney after I hung up. It was awful.”
“Would you mind sending it to me, sir? Perhaps we can analyze it and figure out where they are and then send an extraction team in to rescue your daughter.”
“There’s not enough time. I just need to figure out a way to get someone at Strategic Command to see things my way.”
“Well, before you take those drastic measures, let me say this — don’t ever underestimate what the CIA can do. Send me that picture and I’ll see what we can do. We’ve got assets in play in Russia right now.”
“You do? What for?”
“We have people everywhere all the time — you know that.”
“Are you running some black ops mission you’re not telling me about? I’m the President of the United States — you better tell me if you are.”
Osborne gritted his teeth and lied. “If I was doing anything like that, sir, you’d be the first to know. Just don’t do anything rash, OK. It’s never good to let our emotions get the best of us. We’ll find a way to get your daughter back.”
Sandford said good-bye before ending the call.
Osborne flung his phone down on his desk and wondered if this plan had any chance of succeeding. He suddenly felt more burdened, as if the two situations that could lead to or avert a new world war were under his purview. And in both cases, he was now in the dark.
CHAPTER 51
The piercing noise awoke Flynn with a jolt as he rolled off the couch and hit the ground with a thud. His body barely felt the pain. It was nothing compared to his rigorous two-hour hike over the Urals’ unforgiving terrain under the guise of night. Lexie Martin might have turned into a mercenary, but she was still the best at navigating dicey situations. Somehow he now awoke in her cramped apartment at the edge of the city — and she hadn’t killed him in the middle of the night. Yet Flynn only fell asleep after he set up a very short perimeter alarm with one of his geeky gadgets in his pack. He still didn’t trust her.