Evil Without a Face (30 page)

As she walked down the dark passageway behind the Russian, manhandled by the two guards at her side, she caught movement behind sealed doors. A small finger at one portal, an eye looking through glass from another. She had no idea how many were being held here against their will, but the sight sickened her.

The Russian turned a corner, and at the end of the corridor, another light filtered into the murky hallway. It shone through a small window on a door. Instinctively she knew he’d be taking her there, but a peculiar odor distracted her. She remembered the smell from the other night when they first arrived, the odor she couldn’t quite place.

When the Russian opened the door to let her inside, she had to cover her eyes from the intense brightness. It blinded her, and she raised a hand to shield her eyes. When her vision cleared enough to look around, she was surprised by what she saw.

A surgical room, pristine in white and stainless steel. Large overhead lights hung over an operating table, the main
focus of the large room. An observation window was positioned above, but that room was empty. And a man dressed in pale blue hospital scrubs and a white lab coat stood across from her, looking like a doctor. His eyes were on her, but his expression was unreadable.

Now the smell made sense. It was the medicinal odor of iodine and something else more pungent—coppery and sweet.

When she turned to ask the Russian why he’d brought her here, she discovered the answer on her own. A body on a gurney, not much more than a bloody heap, had been shoved to a corner of the room.

“Oh God,” she gasped, stumbling back with a hand over her mouth.

No one had bothered to cover the remains. The sight horrified her, but it wasn’t until she saw the small heart-shaped birthmark that she finally understood what the Russian had said in her cell.

I have come to reunite you with your friend.

The bloody heap on the gurney was Britney Webber.

“Nooo!”
Nikki screamed. Her voice echoed in the chamber. “But why? Oh my God, what did you do?”

In shock, she asked questions aloud while her mind grappled with unfathomable answers, trying to understand what had happened. It didn’t take long for her to piece the truth together. The girl’s eyes had been hollowed out, leaving darkened pits. Her chest and abdomen were splayed open like some science experiment gone terribly wrong. And the coppery sweet tang of fresh blood hung in the air, a morbid reminder.

The Russian had killed Britney for her body parts.

“Here at this facility, we harvest and sell to the highest bidder, quite a profitable enterprise. Capitalism at its finest,” the Russian said. The humor in his voice and the smirk on his face made a mockery of Britney’s murder and forced a simmering rage to grip her.

The contemptible man stepped toward her and stood close enough for her to smell alcohol on his breath.

“You see? I have found a way for us to leave this place…together.” He mocked her too now, his voice barely a whisper for her ears alone. He stroked her cheek with a vile finger and she felt his hot breath on her face. Choking back a sob, she pulled her chin away, finding it hard to take her eyes off the corpse on the gurney.

But her revulsion toward the Russian didn’t shut the man up.

“Once again, you will be with me, just not in a manner you’d prefer.” The arrogant man barely stifled a laugh.

“You’re wrong, you sorry son of a bitch. Being dead is the only way I’d ever be with scum like you.” She didn’t know where she’d gotten the courage to say it, but it felt good. And bonus points, it made the Russian mad.

“Prepare her!” he demanded. “This one I will witness personally.” He thrust a hand at the doctor, punctuating his order with a warning. “I have business to attend to, but don’t start until I return. Call me when you are ready to proceed.”

The egotistical man left the room without a glimmer of remorse or even a glance over his shoulder.

Stunned, with tears blurring her vision, Nikki couldn’t take her eyes off the grotesque and misshapen hull of Britney’s body, pitted with the bloodied hollows left by the surgeon who’d taken her life. A heart-shaped birthmark on a pallid chin was all that remained to identify her.

In her head, Nikki raged against the injustice, and she felt as if she’d aged a thousand years. But she couldn’t force her mouth to speak or convince her legs to move. She imagined the terror of her own scream and what it might feel like to run until she dropped, but that wouldn’t be possible. A guard grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the doctor.

On the order of the smug Russian—who had hijacked her life and now wanted to snuff it out entirely—she’d suffer Britney’s fate and be powerless to stop it.

Northeast Cape
St. Lawrence Island

On Frank’s order, an Alaska State Trooper chopper pilot, Gary Coburn, flew over the site of the deserted Air Force radar station to get a bird’s-eye view before they landed. Jess craned her neck, helping Payton look for any activity, but she saw none from the air.

She knew not to expect much from a facility that had been abandoned over fifty years ago, but this place was in worse shape than the textile factory in the boonies of Chicago. Seeing it brought a backwash of doubts that weighed heavy on her heart. She saw the same misgivings on Payton’s face when he avoided looking in her eyes.

In the dying hours of the day, the facility looked like an old ghost town, gutted for anything of value and left for the wind and other elements to wear it down. Shattered windows, toppled walls, and rooftops that had caved in were all that remained. A small mountain range stood on one side of the old military grounds that had been carved out of a cluster of evergreen trees.

“We won’t fly too low.” Trooper Frank’s voice came over her headset. Noise in the cockpit made it nearly impossible to hear conversation without headgear. “The rotor blade
could wipe out evidence of activity. The wind is bad enough out here, but no sense being foolish.” Frank pointed in the distance. “We’ll land beyond the trees and trek back.”

They nodded, and the pilot swung hard right and prepared to land. The maneuver left her feeling like she’d left her stomach at the top of a roller coaster. Once they landed, the foothills at the back of the radar station eclipsed the sun. Although the sunset shed a faint reddish glow onto the scene, visibility wasn’t good at ground level. Soon they’d have to resort to flashlights, and she was thankful the troopers had brought extra gear.

Trooper Gary took point, and Frank walked in silence with them, his complete focus on the path they took toward the old base. At times the trooper stooped down to get a closer look at the ground, but he never said much. The beam from their flashlights drew bugs from the gloom like a magnet, making her wish that she’d applied a liberal dose of repellent. She tried to ignore the insects, but the little buggers made her feel itchy.

Despite being plagued by flying vermin, Jess felt the adrenaline rush of the hunt, though the odds weren’t with them that the trip to the island would pan out. But when they got near the collapsed gate of the old facility, things changed.

“Hey, Frank, check this out,” Trooper Gary called over his shoulder. When they caught up, he shined his light onto the ground. “See these long scrapes on this flat boulder? These marks are new. And along here, something heavy landed in this spot. You can tell by the way the soil and rocks have been disturbed…pressed down.”

“What does that mean?” Payton moved his light around the perimeter of where they stood. Shadows ebbed and flowed with the motion, creating an eerie tableau.

“Another helicopter maybe?” Frank asked, directing his question to the other trooper.

“I’d say more than one, considering how these markings
overlap,” Coburn replied. “But what if this is only a government inspection trip? How are we gonna tell the difference?”

She hadn’t thought of that, but it was a damned good question. She despised rain on her parade.

“Actually, you bring up a valid point,” Frank said, “but before I flew to the island, I had an opportunity to contact the officials responsible for the inspection activity here. I found out they haven’t been here in the last three months and hadn’t planned another trip until early next year.”

Frank had withheld information. He’d savored a nice tidbit, waiting to spring it at just the right time.

“You were holding out on us. Why didn’t you say anything about this before now?” Payton pressed.

“I didn’t want to expose any of us to harm. And I didn’t think we’d find anything out here, but this…” He heaved a sigh and shook his head, staring at the markings on the ground. “This is different.”

On the surface, the trooper took the discovery in stride, but Jess could tell he was shaken by it. When he had time to consider his next step, he spoke again.

“Look, Trooper Coburn and I are going through the gate, looking for footprints or some other proof of recent activity. You folks stay here. If we find something more, I’ll call for backup and we’ll wait like we agreed. Is that understood?”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll wait right here.” Payton nodded and grabbed her hand. The sudden gesture surprised her but she went along and smiled at the troopers.

After they took off in the dark, Jess followed their progress by their light beams. When they were far enough away, she whispered to Payton as he let go of her hand.

“I didn’t like the way he said ‘if we find something.’ Frank needs a lesson in the powers of positive thinking. You think they’ll find anything?”

In a bold move, he grabbed her flashlight, but kept his eyes on the other men.

“I’m not waiting to find out.” He doused both their lights, leaving them standing in the dark. “We’ve come too far to give this a casual once-over. I’m going in.”

“Oh no.” She shook her head, still speaking in a hushed voice. “You’re not leaving me out here to be the girl. I’m with you, big guy.”

“Look, it won’t be easy breaking and entering into this dump in the dark.”

“Now you’re talkin’ my language, Archer. Nothing like a little B and E to get the heart pumpin’.”

“It’ll be risky. We can’t use our flashlights until we get past the troopers. Hell, we could get whacked by friendly fire if Frank mistakes us for armed trespassers.” He kept his voice low. “Frank’s gonna be pissed.”

“You said the words ‘we’ and ‘us,’ Archer. I heard them distinctly.” She grinned. “Even your subconscious knows you’re not leavin’ me behind. Embrace the concept.”

She heard his sigh and saw his shoulders slump, a tantalizing silhouette she’d come to recognize.

“No matter what happens, we’re stickin’ together,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Archer. In fact, I like the sound of that.”

She followed Payton through the opening in the gate, careful where she stepped so she wouldn’t fall in the dark and break her neck. She felt the weight of the pendant Alexa had given her, hanging around her neck, and recalled her words.

Press down on the stone only in case of an emergency. It’ll send out a beacon…and the alliance will contact me.

Jess realized how futile her backup plan had become in this remote place, but decided to err on the side of caution for once in her life. She reached under her shirt, pulled out the necklace, and pushed down on the gem. The stone clicked and held in place. If the bling alert worked, Alexa’s alliance would put out the word on her emergency, and eventually
she’d get a call from the woman herself, if her social calendar had an opening.

Of course, if she and Payton ran into Globe Harvest here on St. Lawrence Island, it would be too late, but there was always a bright side. At least Alexa would know where to find their bodies.

As Payton had warned, none of this was going to be easy, but they’d come too far to give up now. She wanted this as much for herself as she did for Nikki. Never giving up on this case had fueled an inner strength, and she felt empowered by the newfound sense of control.

They’d make one last push to find Nikki, and Jess prayed it would be enough.

In night vision gear, Alexa moved with her primary entry team down a short slope, holding her H&K MP5/10 submachine gun fitted with a suppressor. She kept her eyes alert for any suspicious activity as she shuffled in bent knee stance with weapon raised, making her way toward the breach point.

In her bag of tricks, she carried flash-bangs, stingers, and tear gas grenades to create a diversion as her team launched their initial assault. Others would follow behind her men, a planned attack. The perimeter had already been contained, and Garrett had responsibility for the sniper unit. She trusted these men to cover her backside.

Without being detected, she and her men converged at the entry point. As expected, the place was in shambles and looked deserted. Hard to imagine Globe Harvest operated in this dump, but thermal imagers confirmed the presence of warm bodies, and they had picked the optimal entry point to maintain the element of surprise. Shock and awe was the name of the game, their objective to overwhelm the hostage takers inside with their firepower and quick assault, giving them no time to react.

Her team waited for her order. She took a deep breath, but
nothing would stop the sensation she had come to accept. She felt the rush of adrenaline assault the inside of her ears, and her heart pounded into her throat, part of the deadly game. If all went well, their siege would be over in a matter of minutes, hopefully without loss of life.

At least, she prayed that would be the case. Rock steady on the outside, she gave the hand signal, and all hell cut loose in her world.

“Sir, we have a breach.”

Petrovin heard the man’s voice from across the security control room. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw until he could continue.

“That helicopter from earlier, is it them?” he asked.

Just before he’d taken the girl to the operating room, he’d gotten word that an aircraft was circling the perimeter of the compound. This happened from time to time, mostly government types collecting soil samples. With the notoriety of the radar station and the PCB contamination, it had been a perfect deterrent for curious eyes. He had hoped that the intruders would have moved on by now. But apparently they had stopped for a closer inspection.

“Yes, sir, I think so,” the man replied. Stas shook his head, amazed at the man’s ineptitude, but his man redeemed himself when he clarified, “With our surveillance, I spotted two Alaska troopers, but there’s a man and a woman who’ve gotten inside the outer compound. There could be others, but we’ve got to counter, sir. What are your orders?”

Stas imagined firing a submachine gun into the fools who dared to mess with him. In his head, yet not entirely absent of personal experience, he heard the meaty thud of the bullets and imagined bloody carnage at his feet. But he knew what Anton Bukolov would want, and he’d reluctantly comply.

In a line, Alexa’s team moved through shadowy corridors in a stack formation, using her free hand on the shoulder of the
man in front as a guide. Her other hand gripped her weapon, always prepared to use it. Her team cleared one room at a time, prepared to deal with resistance as they went.

“Go, go, go.”

One of her men blasted down another closed door with a battering ram. Night vision gear painted the interior in eerie shades of green as she tossed in a flash-bang, then diverted her eyes so the blast wouldn’t blind her.

BOOM!

She knew from experience that a blinding white light would sear the dark. And a glowing ball of fire would radiate like a shock wave in all directions, followed by a billowing stench. Even now, the blast resonated into the corridor where she stood ready to move in.

The fierce image would leave its imprint on the eyes of anyone inside the room. The white light would hang suspended in darkness then splinter into spangles, blurring the vision of anyone looking directly at it. In a daze, those affected would have minimal hearing, registering only muffled sounds.

Her team had only seconds to gain advantage.

She had entered the room in a rush through the smoke, leaving tail-end Charlie to provide cover outside the door. As soon as her team broke through the threshold of the door, they split apart to avoid becoming easy targets. Each carved out their piece of the pie—their responsibility—breaking down the room into sectors, with trust in the team a necessity of the job.

She heard screams of men through the haze and caught movement in the far corner of the room, a ghostly image in night vision green. But she had her assignment.

“Clear right!” she yelled. Her section of the room was clear of targets, but she moved to her next position, tightening the circle.

Other members of her team weren’t so lucky. A short spurt of bullets erupted, and even through her com set she
heard the muffled yet chilling sound of bullets pounding flesh. A body dropped to the floor and the shrill scream of a girl reminded her why they’d come. The hostage shrank into the corner, too afraid to move.

“Clear left,” her man called out instinctively, following protocol.

Their circle tightened toward the center of the room, her team carving a wedge between the freed hostages and their captors. Fast and brutal, they neutralized the room with deadly intent. More gunfire. More men died. Hostages scrambled to get away. Her team sorted through the chaos and took control. In minutes it would be over.

She heard a man pleading for his life in Russian. For a second she hoped it was Petrovin, but she knew better. Stanislav Petrovin would not go down easy. And the man would never beg for his life.

“Clear center.” The last all clear sign came.

It was over.

They’d taken care of the last room, the stronghold where these men had made their final stand with the hostages. The smell of blood played second fiddle to another stench. A man had cleared his bowels as he died. She recognized the odor.

Even through the ringing in her ears, she heard the low moans of the wounded and dying. Walking through the smoke and carnage, her team flexicuffed everyone in the room, even the hostages, the wounded, and the dead got their hands tied until things were sorted out and everyone was questioned.

By the time Garrett found her, she saw the relief in his eyes that she’d made it through the operation. He rushed to her, careful not to reveal too much to his men. But the look in his eyes said it all.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

God, she loved the sound of his voice.

“Yeah. Did we lose anyone?” She ventured a touch of his sleeve.

“No, thank God. A couple of injuries, but they’ll live. It was a good op, Alexa.”

She fought a smile, unsure what part God would have chosen to play, but she gave Garrett the benefit of the doubt that he had a direct line to a higher power. When he looked beyond her, searching through the murky haze of the room, Garrett smiled uncharacteristically, a strange sight in a room colored by bloodshed.