Every car that pulled up next alongside them, a possible enemy. Any police car a possible threat. Just the memory of the tense ride made her joints shake. She had to reach out and steady herself on the van. Thank goodness the Russia-Ukrainian border was as porous as it was. They had traveled through the night on a string of bribes.
"Now that was invigorating," Lopez said, slapping her shoulder.
"Whatever, Ricky."
"Um, hello?" the corporal said indignantly with far too much energy for a guy who'd just driven seven straight hours. "I just invented indoor helicopter flying. It is going to be all the rage, I'm telling ya."
Since she didn't respond Lopez moved on, doing lunges at each step, as the others pulled the gear out of the back. The only two left in the van were Davidson and Bunny. The young woman still slept fitfully on the small cot in the back, her head resting on Davidson's lap. He gently stroked her hair. It was the only way any of them could get her to settle down. Rebecca hated to rouse her even to board the private plane that Lopez had commissioned.
The woman had only spoken one word since the viscous attack on Moscow. "Slovenia."
No one had known what she meant at the time. And honestly Rebecca didn't know much more after an extensive search on the Internet. About all she could gather was that the architect, Nikolay, had retired shortly after the renovations to St. Basil's Cathedral. Then she found some tiny Slovenian newspaper article from the seventies regarding a famous architect purchasing a remote chalet. She could only assume it was Nikolay, although an Alps cabin seemed a strange retirement choice for such a devout Russian Orthodox parishioner. There wasn't a Russian Orthodox church for a hundred miles. Actually, there wasn't much for a hundred miles in the tiny alpine village he had selected as his last home.
Leaning over, Rebecca fished out her laptop and fired it back up. Even with the backup battery she was nearly out of juice. They better have some form of plug on the plane or forget any more research.
"So you think he took the fragments he found at St. Basil's to Slovenia?" Brandt asked over her shoulder, making her jump.
She tried to cover her reaction with a few callisthenic moves. "It would make sense."
Brandt nodded. "And Slovenia borders Croatia, which is where we caught up with Amed. I don't think that is any coincidence."
Of course the sergeant didn't. He didn't think running into an old friend at a coffee shop was a coincidence. While she didn't find out much regarding Nikolay, she did find some interesting facts about the country he chose. It appeared he was looking farther back than synagogues in his choice.
"It turns out that a Jewish population predates the Slavic settling of the area," Rebecca explained.
"You're kidding," Brandt said as he shook out his wrist. It appeared to be sore from his stunt on the helicopter. Rebecca wanted to smack him for making her think she'd lost him...again. It was one thing to be married to another woman and quite another to be in the Russian secret police's hands.
"Nope," Rebecca said, acting as if the last few jarring hours hadn't happened. "Plus, Slovenia has one of the oldest caches of prehistoric remains as well. They found them hidden high up in a cave near Nikolay's chalet."
"Lot of history then," he commented, wincing as he extended his wrist back.
Lopez trotted up. "They've got the plane fueled. I'm just going to do the preflight check, boss."
Brandt grunted his approval and then looked to the sleeping Bunny. "Think it's just shock or something worse?"
Funny how "shock" became something to be shrugged off. Maybe funny wasn't the right word, Rebecca thought as she looked to the young woman's shallow breaths.
"What type of shock is the question, I think," Rebecca answered.
Brandt regretted asking the question as soon as it was out of his mouth. Bunny had just lost her mentor. Rebecca had lost hers last year. On the surface the two seemed so very different, yet they truly were very similar. He hadn't noticed it, but Rebecca certainly did. The sympathy she felt for Bunny shone in her eyes.
Rebecca had described losing Lochum like losing a really cranky stepfather. He bugged the crap out of you, but still left a hole in your heart when he was gone. With tears glistening in her eyes, he wanted to reach out to Rebecca so, so badly. He wanted to comfort her, yet he knew any comfort he might try to give would only backfire. Better for him to hold in his feelings and let it sting his heart rather than hurt Rebecca's anymore.
"Can't we get her to an American consulate or something?" Rebecca asked, going back to her laptop. "I researched it, and the embassy is just across town."
Noting that she didn't ask the same for herself, Brandt was reminded of Rebecca's resilience. But her brash optimism sometimes blinded her to the situation on the ground.
"Not with the Chinese after us as well," Brandt reminded her.
Rebecca frowned. "I can't be sure those were Chinese features."
"Perhaps not," Brandt said. "But I can be sure those were QSZ-92s in their hands. Chinese military issue."
"They're after us for the Rinderpest?" Rebecca said more as a confirmation than a question. It seemed she was starting to accept the fact that now they had two enemies. The Disciples of Moshe and now a Chinese military intelligence squad. Their day couldn't get much better than that.
The plane taxied out of the hangar as Lopez yelled out the window, "Come on, I want to get us to Ljubljana while they're still serving sarkelj."
Brandt turned to the van. "Davidson, let me help you get her out."
But the younger man shook his head, gathering Bunny into his damaged arms. They shook, but still he carried her. "I've got it."
Yes, apparently he had. Last year when they'd first met Bunny, Davidson had been the only one capable of dealing with the young woman. It appeared that several disasters later this was still the case.
Davidson carefully stepped from the van as Bunny roused a bit. He murmured something and she settled right down again.
"So he's along for the long haul?" Rebecca asked as they followed the two to the plane.
Brandt didn't answer. To say out loud that Davidson was officially on this mission would be breaking about a dozen military codes. And to say that Davidson wasn't on this mission just seemed stupid.
Rebecca nodded. "The kind of don't ask, don't tell. Got it." A timid smile curled her lips. "Thanks."
He didn't do it for the reasons she thought though. He hadn't forgiven the traitor or come to peace with the past. He did it because Davidson was in a unique position to keep them safe. To keep Rebecca safe.
If he had to make a pact with the devil, then so be it.
There was a flurry of activity, including handcuffing Aunush to the chair. Not surprising since she'd killed her first interrogator. The Chinese guards didn't seem to know quite what to do with her. Or the body that lay on the floor. Clearly everyone here was simply a grunt.
The Chinese must have thought they'd captured some low-level mercenary crew. Little did they know.
Finally a man, dressed in a suit that was probably bought at the Louis Vuitton store that she and her sniper had destroyed, stepped into the room. Clearly she was working her way up the food chain.
"Hello, Aunush," he said in nearly perfect English. "I am Commander Hsu from the MSS."
The Ministry State Security. Basically China's secret police. Just what she was hoping for.
"So you know that kidnapping me was probably not your most intelligent move," Aunush answered, watching his features cloud. The Disciples had influence across the globe. When the master heard of this? The consequences would be severe, however Aunush didn't have time for the diplomatic machinations to do their work. She needed to be in the air. Now.
"We know that you attacked Sergeant Brandt and Dr. Monroe in London," the man stated. "You then followed them to Pushchino, where you attacked again, losing most of your team before destroying St. Basil's in a failed attempt to kill them."
Clearly the man was trying his best to make her feel defeated. A failure.
What the MSS commander didn't understand was that Brandt and Monroe only survived in London due to bad intel, and Pushchino? Any loss there was due to containing the nature of Osip's death. And she'd never meant to kill them at St. Basil's. She'd meant to flush them out. Dr. Monroe was looking more and more like an asset that could be used to track down Amed's final steps and claim what he stole.
None of the mission had gone as planned, yet she was closer to claiming the Disciples' heritage than any other before her. She would take it.
"I can get you your Rinderpest," she stated.
Commander Hsu squinted. "How?"
Aunush tilted her head. "You know how."
"And we leave you to your own agenda?" he asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer, so she didn't bother to answer it.
"I will need a plane and a team of eight men, preferably far more insightful and competent than your interrogator."
Hsu chuckled. "We are to turn over a team, under your control?" His mirth died quickly. "Your file states you are brazen, Aunush, but really what would compel me to do such a thing?"
"I know exactly where Brandt is headed," Aunush answered, pleased to see the shock cross Hsu's features before he put on that MSS mask.
It took a single heartbeat for the career spy to answer. "Your men will be assembled upstairs."
Like she said. Not ideal, but she'd take it.
Rebecca glanced out the window of the plane. In the distance the Alps rose before them. White-capped and majestic. And quite the bitch to get over given the storm system moving in from the north. A late spring storm.
Although Lopez appeared quite invigorated by the bustling winds. With no clouds in the sky yet, the wind sheet coming ahead of the storm seemed like an invisible hand smacking them around the sky. They'd already "lost air," a colloquial term for basically falling out of the sky several hundred feet until Lopez got the jet under control again.
To avoid any lingering "hard feelings" in Hungary since their last visit, Lopez had charted a northern course across the Ukraine, over Slovakia, and finally arcing over Austria, coming into Slovenia from the north. For the most part they had avoided populated cities, instead streaking over Eastern Europe with the skies practically to themselves.
Now though? Heading into Austria? Civilization lay under them like an urban carpet. That is until the valley floor abutted against the towering mountains. Mountains notorious for their fickle weather.
"Everybody buckle up," Lopez said over the intercom. "It is going to get bumpy from here."
Great. If Lopez thought it would be bumpy...
Bunny rustled in the seat next to Rebecca. "Where are we?" the younger woman asked.
"Just about to go over the Alps into Slovenia. We should land in Ljubljana within the hour."
The intercom cut in. "Make that forty-five minutes...max."
Rebecca corrected. "Less than an hour then."
Davidson reached over across the aisle and handed Bunny a water bottle. "Best you get hydrated as soon as possible."
After downing half the bottle, Bunny wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "Thanks," she said, then looked more closely at the scarred face. Davidson tilted away, pretending to suddenly become interested in one of the onboard magazines. "Are you the same soldier from France?"
Davidson gave a brusque shrug of his shoulder and then really delved into that Sky Mall catalog, but Bunny reached her hand out. "I never got a chance to thank you."
Reluctantly Davidson extended his hand, riddled with the crisscrossing of a dozen scars. Bunny shook it, then traced one of those purplish lines. When Davidson tried to pull back, Bunny raised the edge of her shirt to reveal her midriff. Rebecca flinched at the cracked-glass appearance of the skin. Bunny too had deep and extensive scars. It truly was shocking she'd survived those injuries back in France.
"My physical therapist said those like us are joined by more than just damaged collagen," Bunny said, then tucked her blouse back into her pants.
Davidson gave an unintelligible mumble and went back to shopping for useless consumer electronic goods. As Bunny took another swig of the water, Rebecca sought Brandt's gaze across the aisle. His eyes flickered from Davidson to Bunny and then back. She could practically read the sergeant's thoughts.
Easy to say if you weren't the one betrayed.
Even Rebecca wished to wipe the memory of that horrible night from her mind. To removed the memory of his betrayal and just see Davidson for what he was now, as Bunny could. Rebecca wished she could trust Davidson the way Bunny clearly did. Like Davidson and Bunny's physical scars, Brandt and Rebecca wore theirs deeper down. The cord of trust frayed, burned, and tattered.
The seat belt suddenly cut into her thighs as the jet fell from the sky. Really fell. It was like riding one of those amusement park free-fall attractions, only at 32,000 feet in the air. Or at this rate 31,000 feet. Now 30,000.
She dug her fingers into the hand rest as Bunny's nails dug into her hand. Rebecca's teeth chattered as the entire plane shimmied violently. She wouldn't be surprised if screws undid themselves or the wings sheared off. Then as suddenly as the weightless sensation come on, Rebecca's butt hit the seat cushion as the jet's engines kicked in again, surging them forward.
"No worries, people," Lopez chuckled. "That little drop just saved us time on the descent."
Rebecca was glad someone could laugh about it. Because she certainly couldn't.
Tightening her seat belt, Rebecca dug in for a rough forty-five minutes.
Aunush finished dressing as her sniper entered the small room. Nannan, looking decidedly far worse for the wear, joined them. None spoke. The room was bugged, there was no doubt. Even Nannan sensed it. From here on out they would need to be extremely careful in their choice of words. That was until their Chinese details outlived their usefulness.
Holstering the sidearms provided, Aunush noted they were American issue, not Chinese. Guess it would be a tad difficult to explain to the international press if anything went wrong why Jewish mercenaries were carrying Chinese guns.
The sniper checked out the rifle provided to replace the one damaged from the desperate tumble out of the GUM building. He grunted his approval and then broke the weapon down, securing it in its case. Nannan simply stood there, shell-shocked, dark-eyed and limp-lipped.
Slapping him on the shoulder, then digging her nails his thick arm, Aunush guided them out of the room and followed the short hallway to a staircase that led them up to the roof. A helicopter awaited. She quickly calculated how far away the Chinese had taken them. Did they go all the way back to China? Or maybe south to Pakistan?
They were halfway across the roof when Aunush stopped in her steps. She looked over the railing to find...Moscow.
The Chinese hadn't transported her anywhere. They were at the Chinese consulate in Moscow. As Commander Hsu walked up, she assessed the man a bit more admirably. That took balls. To torture and interrogate them right under the Russians' noses?
Hsu nodded to the twelve men already loaded in the helicopter. "The helo will transport you to the airport, where you will fly under diplomatic colors to...?"
"Lay in a flight plan to the Alps," Aunush answered, "and I will instruct your pilot of our final destination once we are close."
Her unspoken words were loud and clear. Once we are outside the influence of the Chinese government.
The commander nodded curtly though. Why wouldn't he? Aunush was certain that the Chinese assault squad had their own termination orders for her and her team.
So be it.
They were two scorpions in a dance where they promised to only sting their enemies. As soon as Brandt and the Rinderpest were neutralized, that dance would turn deadly.
Without further pleasantries, Aunush loaded into the helicopter as the sniper and Nannan followed suit.
For the first time since their capture Aunush felt hope stir in her chest. Brandt and Monroe didn't have the perk of diplomatic clearance. Their team must have spent the night on a slow and deliberate attempt to flee overland. They couldn't have taken to the air until they were outside Russian borders. Which meant Brandt had lost hours upon hours of lead time.
Aunush was but a few hours behind them.
She held onto a hand strap as the helicopter lifted off the roof and sped across Moscow.