Cold Silence (A High Stakes Thriller) (37 page)

It was a hand-rolled cigarette, only half-smoked, the acrid scent of the tobacco definitely Russian. They were already there.

She felt her legs give beneath her, and suddenly she was palms-down against the freezing ground.

At the crunch of footsteps she forced herself off her hands and knees.

"It's me," the colonel whispered. "What'd you find?"

She opened her mouth to answer and held the cigarette butt out dumbly.

"They're here."

"We need a plan, a way to get in," she said.

The colonel lifted his gun and checked their backs. "How many do you think there are?"

"I'm guessing Kirov would bring at least two others, so at least three."

"We can do three."

She didn't dare contradict him. They had to. She took a quick look around and motioned them toward the side of the house, away from the front door. They moved slowly, Cody leading. Her vision was better and she was in better shape, but the colonel stayed right behind her, only the ragged hiss of his breath indicating he was there.

They edged along the side of the house until they reached a lighted window. She motioned for him to stop and she ducked low, moving past the window and then lifting herself to peer in the far corner.

The living room was bright, the familiar fireplace in the center, two large brown leather sofas forming an "L" in front of it. An ornate carved table looked strangely out of place between the two casual couches. She recognized the table, though. It was like the one that had been in the edge of the first photo. This was the right place. But there was no one in sight.

A door somewhere slammed and Cody dropped. She heard no voices, only the low thud of boots on the deck above them. The colonel swung back around the corner to take a look and she waited, pressed against the house. Where was Ryan?

The colonel came back and motioned her toward him. It was obvious he'd found something, and she half ran, half slid down toward the back of the house to catch up.

When she reached him, she saw that he'd found access to the basement. She moved toward the open door in near silence, the sound of boots still echoing from above.

As she followed the colonel into the darkness, she had to hold herself back from calling Ryan's name. Oh, please. Please let this be him.

The colonel was moving in front of her and she watched his shadow cross the room. Then there was a thud and he tripped. Something clattered and the colonel groaned.

The steps above halted in a hard thunk and then the deck door squeaked open.

"He's coming," she whispered. "Colonel?"

"I'm here. There's something here, on the ground."

Suddenly they were flooded in light. Stunned, Cody was thrown off balance. She caught herself and blinked hard.

Boots were clattering across the floor, getting closer.

Her pulse was speeding. Her vision cleared and she found the colonel, who was staring at the ground.

"Come on—" she started to say as she focused in on the object in front of him.

At first all she saw was a denim leg, and she immediately thought it was Ryan. The image knocked the wind from her, and her stomach convulsed as she made a panicked scan up the leg to the rest of the body. He was too big. She focused on an unfamiliar face. A man.

He'd been shot in the head twice. "Oh, God," she whispered.

The colonel had her arm and was pulling her back toward the door.

"Wait." She tried to pull herself free, scanning the room for others. "I have to see. Is he here?"

"No. It's only him. Only the man." He gave her a firmer pull until her feet loosened and she moved toward the door.

The sound of boots came thundering down the stairs.

Cody was out the door when her jacket caught. She was jerked backward but the colonel tore her free. He had her hand and he was pulling her toward the trees, away from the house. Her mind was spinning like a top, but only one thought came out: Where was Ryan?

They reached the trees and the colonel pulled her behind one. Together they listened as the basement door swung open. Someone cursed in Russian and the sound made her knees tremble beneath her.

They didn't move. It was too far to run for the hillside. They'd never make it back to the car without at least one of them getting hit.

She listened, her heart a deafening drumbeat. Behind it, though, every sound was perfectly clear.

The Russian's boots crunched in the snow, his breath had a wheezing tick, and she heard the click of the safety releasing on his gun. Change jingled in his pocket, the sound getting closer.

She pulled herself away from the colonel and turned toward the sound. Her own gun raised, she waited until the clinking and clicking were almost on top of them. Then, sucking in as much air as her lungs could hold, she swung her weapon out and shot, moving in an arc of bullets from left to right.

One bullet fired back and then she heard the distinct thump of a body hitting the frozen ground.

The colonel looked out, and then he touched her back the way a father would his daughter. "Nice shot."

She didn't answer. Instead she released the empty magazine into the snow and pulled a full one from her pocket, sliding it into place. She held the gun in front of her as she moved toward the Russian. She'd gotten him square in the chest and the wound was still pumping blood when she pried his gun from his hand and, ignoring his open eyes, moved past him to the house. She hesitated at the perimeter, knowing the others would be coming soon.

The colonel followed. They'd only gotten past the edge of the basement toward the side of the house when she felt a rush of cold air behind her. Something was wrong, she thought as the cold sliced through her thin jacket.

She spun back, the gun in front of her. But she knew immediately that the weapon would do her no good.

The colonel's expression was sheer terror. Behind him, one of Oskar Kirov's thugs had what Cody recognized immediately to be a Glock pressed to his head. She thought about what the chances were that she could fire over the colonel's head, but she knew they were less than slim.

"Megan Riggs, I suppose," he said in an accent that Cody heard in her worst dreams. She didn't answer.

"You drop your gun if you want your friend to have another breath."

Cody ignored the colonel's shaking head. She had a chance to get out of there with the colonel and Florence. She owed him that.

"Don't—" he started, but the Russian butted him with the gun.

Her mind flashed to Travis Landon sitting in the car, but he wasn't coming to help them. She knew that much.

Cody tossed her gun out into the snow by the dead Russian, watching it land. She memorized its location in hopes that she'd have a chance to come back for it later.

Chapter 36

The colonel shook his head. Cody had made a mistake. She should have gone on. "Forget about me," he whispered, his eyes watching Cody.

"Move, old man," the rough accent barked from behind.

The colonel looked in the snow where Cody's gun had landed and tried to nod at her to go for it. Once they were inside, their chances would be nil. But Cody had already conceded.

He thought about Florence in the car and wondered if he'd have a chance to see her again. She slept soundly, but if she woke, she might panic at Landon. God, he hoped that jackass didn't leave her. If she got out of the car and wandered, she'd freeze to death before anyone could find her.

Roni crossed his mind. All this time he'd never called her, and when he was finally set to see her, he'd gotten himself ready to be killed.

As the Russian motioned Cody toward the basement, he knocked the colonel on the back of the head. Before he could touch the spot, though, the man knocked him again and snarled something in Russian. The colonel didn't speak a word of Russian, but he knew a derogatory term when he heard one. And he'd been hearing those for all of his sixty years.

The Russian pushed him again and the colonel upped his pace, remembering his first drill sergeant in the Marine Corps. It had been the 1960s and the sergeant hadn't liked black folks much. Hadn't called them black folks though. He'd been called a nigger back then, probably more than not. The colonel had survived Sergeant Bennick and he would survive this asshole, too. Damn if he was going to give up before he had a chance to make things right with Roni.

As they headed up the basement stairs, the colonel leaned forward and whispered to Cody, "Hope you got a plan."

"Shut up," the Russian shouted, ramming his gun into the colonel's back.

The jab hit him square in the kidney and the colonel lost his footing with pain. But he forced himself to pretend he'd just tripped, and as he lifted himself up the last few steps, he blinked away the agony in his back. He was definitely too old for combat. Where the hell were the police or the FBI?

They passed through the doorway to the main level. The colonel watched Cody touch her back. At first he thought maybe she was in pain, too, but the gesture caused a strange bump to form in the back of her shirt. She quickly straightened it and moved into the main room.

She glanced over her shoulder and he met her gaze and knew immediately that she had another weapon. He suppressed a smile and hoped he got the chance to blow off the head of one of these mobsters, then reminded himself to stay calm until he had the chance.

From the small lump he saw in the back of her shirt, he guessed it was something without much firepower. But it was something nonetheless. And that was something more than he had.

Cody crossed the room and called for Ryan.

"He's not here," the Russian said. "Sasha," he yelled, adding something in Russian that the colonel assumed informed his colleague that he'd caught them.

Cody launched herself at the Russian, and the colonel saw her reach for the gun. "Where is he?"

The colonel grabbed her arm and held her from drawing the gun until the other man arrived. He didn't want her giving up their trump card too soon.

Cody clawed at the colonel to get to the Russian. "Where's my son?"

The Russian smiled and the colonel had to hold himself back almost as hard as he did Cody.

"Where is he?"

"Gone."

"Gone where?"

The Russian shrugged.

The colonel saw that Cody had reached the breaking point. In a rush of anger and certainly fear, she tore through his grip and reached for her back.

He screamed to her to stop, to wait, but he couldn't hold back the torrent. The colonel fell backward, unable to hold on to her.

As she broke his hold, the Russian laughed at them. He pointed to the colonel, who was trying to pull himself off the floor, and then looked back at Cody. His head thrown back, he almost missed her drawing her gun.

His smile faltered at the sight, but his own weapon was close at hand. He raised it.

The colonel was barely back on his feet. He took a running jump and launched himself at the end of the barrel, driving it toward the floor.

The next few seconds were a blur of ringing shots and curses. He heard his own voice in the mix as though he were trying to speak in very slow motion. But what came out wasn't words at all. It was a groan as he felt the searing heat of what felt like a dagger piercing his thigh.

As he collapsed, he caught sight of the Russian falling back. The man reached for his neck, which spurted blood like water from a fountain. It was a bright red that looked too fantastic to be real.

Cody sank beside the colonel, the gun still outstretched in her hands. "Oh, God. Ryan. Ryan," she whispered.

The colonel put an arm around her and pulled her toward him. He glanced at his leg and was amazed to find there was no knife sticking out from his skin. He realized he must have been shot. "Cody. There's another one around here."

She gripped the gun and stared at the dead Russian. "Where the hell is Kirov? Jesus, where is he?"

He knew what she was thinking. She'd killed her source to Ryan. She straightened her back and shifted her gaze off the dead man. She kept her back to the colonel and scanned the room, the gun in front of her.