“Command Post, Hydroacoustic. Explosion in the water, bearing zero-seven-zero. Loss of wire guide, tube Three.”
Novikov didn’t need Hydroacoustic’s report to know that one of their torpedoes had exploded. The sound was audible through the steel hull as the shock wave rumbled by. The middle torpedo in the salvo had caught its target.
A moment later, Hydroacoustic followed up. “Loss of tonals from Hydroacoustic two-one.”
The report dispelled any doubts of whether the American submarine had been sent to the bottom. Michigan was no longer a concern.
Turning his attention back to the directive he had received while Krasnoyarsk was still moored in Vladivostok, Novikov issued his next set of orders.
“Steersman, left full rudder, steady course zero-nine-zero. Slow to ahead standard.”
Krasnoyarsk turned east again, closing on the American aircraft carrier.
81
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
After ending the call with Harrison, Mixell approached the front door of the warehouse and unlocked it. Slowly, with his eye on the door and his pistol drawn, he backed up to where Christine was tied to the ceiling. He stopped behind her, then slid the pistol into the small of his back. After pulling the scoring knife from his pocket, he cut the rope around Christine’s wrists. He caught her with his left arm and held her against his body, then slid the knife back into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
He called Harrison, letting him know he could enter the warehouse. After ending the call, he swapped his phone for the pistol.
A moment later, the warehouse door opened and Harrison entered.
Harrison stopped after his first step inside the building. Mixell was holding Christine in front of him in a firm grip. He was a head taller than Christine, and he held her in his left arm so that her face was the same height as his, with her feet dangling in the air. The front of Christine’s body from the waist down was drenched in blood, oozing from three wounds in her abdomen, with a small red puddle collecting on the ground beneath her.
But what captured Harrison’s attention the most was the pistol in Mixell’s right hand, its barrel pressed against Christine’s head. Mixell was doing his best to recreate the scene in this warehouse a year ago, but in reverse, with him holding Christine hostage instead of Harrison holding Trish.
“How is this going to play out, Lonnie?” Harrison asked calmly, keeping his pistol down by his side, attempting to avoid any provocation that would force Mixell to pull the trigger. Mixell, however, seemed not to care that Harrison was armed.
“You have no idea?” Mixell asked. After a short pause, he said, “I’m sure you do. You were never the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but you undoubtedly know what’s going to happen tonight.”
“Just let Chris go,” Harrison said, “and we can settle this between us.”
“Not a chance,” Mixell replied calmly. “You’re going to watch Chris die, just like Trish. And up until the moment I kill you, you’ll live with the realization that Angie and Chris are dead because of you. Because of what you did to me. You betrayed me! A brother!”
“If I could take everything back, I would.”
“It’s too late for that. You ratted me out, and as the saying goes — ‘With actions come consequences.’ Besides, Chris deserves her fate. She joined you, turning against me.”
“She was just doing her job,” Harrison replied. “Surely, you see the difference between what I did and what Chris has done.”
Indecision suddenly played across Mixell’s face. But then his features hardened.
“Chris did more than just her job. She went out of her way, pulling you into the hunt. If she had just let you and me settle things, she wouldn’t be here tonight.”
Harrison focused again on the pistol pressed against Christine’s head. She was terrified, but Harrison pushed that fact from his mind, wondering instead if he could get a clear shot. Mixell kept Christine in front of him, however, exposing barely half of his face, making himself an almost impossible target. Even if Harrison could raise his pistol and aim before Mixell pulled his trigger, he could easily hit Christine instead.
The only way to save her, if that were even possible, was to let Mixell take his revenge out on him instead.
He lowered his pistol and knelt to place it on the ground.
“Oh, no-no-no!” Mixell shouted. “Do you realize where I’m standing! This is where you held Trish hostage and where a bullet took her life. Keep the gun and take the shot!”
Mixell moved his face back and forth slowly behind Christine’s head, teasing Harrison as he exposed more, then less, of his face. Harrison again considered taking a shot, but it was just too risky. He was too far away and the odds of hitting Christine were too high.
He placed his pistol on the ground, then stood. “Let Chris go,” he said.
“Pick up the gun!” Mixell yelled.
“Just let her go, you bastard! You can do whatever you want to me, but let Chris go!”
“Pick up the damn gun!” Mixell shouted again.
“I won’t,” Harrison replied.
Mixell tamped down on the fury building inside him. He wanted nothing more than to have Harrison put a bullet into Christine’s head, the same way Mixell had taken a shot at Harrison, accidentally killing Trish. However, he had planned ahead in case Harrison refused. He would watch Christine die the same way Angie had.
“Step away from the pistol,” Mixell ordered.
After Harrison took a few steps back, Mixell wedged his pistol into the small of his back and pulled the hooked blade from his pocket, pressing it against Christine’s neck.
“Does this scene look familiar?” Mixell asked.
He had always found knives irresistible, and as he considered the turn of events tonight, he realized that nothing had really changed. Harrison had simply chosen a different way for Christine to die. Besides, there was no better way to remind Harrison of what he had done to Angie. And he was about to kill the woman Harrison loved even more.
Mixell pressed his face against the nape of Christine’s neck and took a deep breath. Her scent was a combination of perspiration and fear, which he found quite pleasant.
Quietly, he said, “Chris, are you ready to die?”
She didn’t reply, but the bravado she had displayed in the White House and earlier this evening had evaporated. He could feel her body trembling in fear, and her breathing had turned rapid and shallow. With his arm wrapped tightly around her body, he could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her pulse racing. He sensed that it was taking everything Christine could muster to hold things together. At that moment, he was filled with admiration, and he remembered why he had been attracted to her years ago.
As a kid, Christine had been fearless and determined, eager to prove that she was just as smart and capable as the boys she hung out with. Reflecting on what Christine had accomplished in her life, he concluded that she was the smartest and most accomplished of them all. Christine was, without a doubt, an incredible woman.
For a fleeting moment, he regretted what he was about to do.
He tightened his grip on the knife, its tip resting against her neck, then shoved it in.
Christine must have sensed her pending demise, because just before Mixell shoved the knife into her neck, she tried to twist free, attempting to pull his arm away enough to let her slip down and out of his grasp. Mixell held onto her, but instead of slicing into her neck, the knife dug into the base of her jaw.