Poe (7 page)

“Sure.”

“Have at it.”

Deuce stepped up to the line, pulled on his earmuffs, and raised the pistol. He held his position for several seconds, then let off five quick shots.

“More?” Dugan asked.

“No, I’m good.”

Dugan brought the target in and changed it for a fresh one. Alex was happy to see that Deuce had landed all five shots within the large circle. Once the new target was in place, Deuce took aim again. This time he shot in bursts of two, until he finished the needed ten.

The target whizzed back. Nine shots within the circle, the tenth just barely outside.

“Dammit,” Deuce said. “Can I try again?”

“Nine’s passing,” Cooper told him.

“Yeah, but ten’s better.”

“Let’s just keep moving, shall we?”

Deuce took longer between shots with the rifle. This time he got credit for all ten.

“All right, you pass,” Dugan said. “Congratulations. Though you could use some work on tightening things up.”

Deuce grunted dismissively, but Dugan ignored him and gestured to Alex. “All right, ma’am, your turn.”

Alex switched places with Deuce, snatched up the nine, and reloaded. Once the target was twenty-five meters out, she moved into position and aimed down the barrel.

Dugan came up beside her. “Take as many practice shots as you want, ma’am.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said.

“You sure? Don’t forget, it’s eight out of ten or you fail.”

She looked at him. “I’ll take my chances.”

That rueful smile came out again. “Just trying to be helpful.”

Alex eyed the target and immediately slipped into the zone, waiting for that moment when instinct and training became one—just as her father had taught her when she was thirteen years old. Then she pulled the trigger in steady succession—
bam, bam, bam, bam, bam
—until she finished her tenth shot.

Dugan was still smiling as he pushed the button to retrieve the target, but his condescending expression disappeared the moment he got a good look at what she had done.

Not only had she placed all ten shots within the large circle, every single one of them was contained within the much smaller circle in the center.

“I’d call that a pass,” Cooper said.

Dugan, looking considerably less cocksure than he had a moment ago, mounted a new target and sent it rushing down the range.

“It’s a combined test,” he said. “Still gotta pass the rifle.”

Alex picked up the M16. Though it had been years since she’d held one, its heft was familiar. She sighted down the range, and let off a single shot. Even at this distance, she could tell that while it was in the smaller circle, it had hit slightly off center. She compensated for the discrepancy with the sight, and shot off another round. This one was near perfect.

Eight shots later, she was done.

Once the target was back, Dugan looked at it, then at her. “I take it this isn’t your first time out.”

Alex removed the magazine from the rifle and popped the remaining bullet from the chamber. “I’ve had my share of practice. But most of the targets were shooting back.”

“She was also brigade champion for two years running,” Cooper told him. “Did I forget to mention that?”

Dugan leveled his gaze at Cooper. Without looking at Alex, he said, “You pass.” He folded up the target and walked back to the armory.

Deuce watched him go. “Guy’s kind of a prick, isn’t he?”

“Pretty much,” Cooper said.

Despite herself, Alex was smiling now. “I have to admit that was worth the trip. What’s up next?”

Cooper gestured toward the exit. “Time for your briefing.”

They went to
a different building, about a quarter of the size of the previous one. It looked more like a cement bunker, and was tucked away in the trees, accessible only via a narrow path.

Inside, Cooper took them down to a room in the sub-basement two levels below ground, where McElroy and a young woman were waiting.

Though it was clearly a meeting room, it was nothing like the one they’d gathered in earlier. If the Stonewell property was, as Deuce had so delicately put it, a mercenary’s wet dream, then the room they had just entered would undoubtedly produce a similar sense of euphoria for someone obsessed with technology.

One entire wall seemed to be a monitor screen that could be divided multiple ways into sub-screens of various sizes. At the moment, a large portion was dedicated to a looping animation of the Stonewell Associates logo, while charts and graphs filled up rectangles along the sides and partially across the bottom.

The conference table was made of wood, and inset in front of each chair was a screen where more data could be displayed. By the way the young woman was tapping away at her screen, Alex realized each had touch control, too. Finally, there were computer stations along the shorter, far wall, each with an oversize monitor.

“So?” McElroy said to Cooper as soon as they entered. “Pass or no pass?”

Deuce looked indignant. “Really, dude?”

“Pass,” Cooper said. “Both.”

McElroy smiled. “Excellent. But I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“That’s more like it,” Deuce told him.

“Is anyone hungry or thirsty? There are drinks in the fridge behind you, and some small sandwiches there on the counter. Feel free.”

Deuce grinned and headed for the counter. “I could use a bite. Alex, you want something?”

But Alex was barely listening. Now that they were about to get down to business, her mind was once again on her father, and the real reason she was here.

“Alex?”

“What I want,” she said, locking gazes with McElroy, “is to know where Fadilah El-Hashim is. You’ve dangled that carrot long enough.”

McElroy nodded and took a seat. “Then perhaps we should get started.”

The young woman touched the screen in front of her and the lights immediately dimmed. On the wall, the logo animation faded, as a map of the Black Sea took its place.

“Seriously?” Deuce said. He was standing in front of the now darkened table of food, an empty plate in his hand.

Ignoring him, McElroy launched into his presentation. “As I mentioned yesterday, Ms. El-Hashim is in Ukraine. Specifically, Crimea.”

Crimea was a bulbous peninsula in the Black Sea that was connected to the rest of Ukraine by a comparatively narrow spit of land. A yellow dot appeared on screen, along the north end of the peninsula, then the map zoomed in.

At first it looked like the dot was right on top of a small town labeled Slavne, but as the image continued to enlarge and more details emerged, the dot began moving southward out of the village, until it stopped at a point roughly halfway between Slavne and a town called Ryljejevka. The map switched from graphic representation to satellite view, and the dot faded until it was a barely ghosted circle surrounding a group of seven buildings.

Central in the group were three identical rectangular structures lined up side by side. South of them, on the other side of a gap that Alex judged to be about fifty yards wide, was another building similar to the others, but set at a ninety-degree angle. Running from each end of this building, all the way around the other three buildings, was a thin line that could only be a wall. Beyond the north end of the enclosure was a fifth, smaller building. It was walled off like a pimple on the larger fortress.

The remaining two structures were outside the walls. One looked like it could be a house, while the other an office building, or storage facility, or—what Alex thought most likely—barracks.

“Slavne Prison,” McElroy said.

Alex sat up. “I’m sorry. Prison?”

“Please, Ms. Poe, if you’ll just let me—”

“That’s where this woman is? In
prison
?”

McElroy hesitated before saying, “Yes, but—”

“What the hell?” Deuce said. He had managed to pile a couple of sandwiches on his plate and had stopped halfway back to his chair. “How are we supposed to get to her there?”

“If you’ll bear with me, I’m going to cover that.”

But Alex was already ahead of him. It didn’t take much brainpower to figure out McElroy’s plan. “This is a women’s prison, isn’t? You want me to go in.
That’s
why you need me.”

Before McElroy could reply, Deuce dropped his plate to the table, spilling one of the sandwiches off the side. “Whoa. Absolutely not,” he said. “This is not even close to a good idea. Alex, we’re done. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“You’ve already signed contracts,” McElroy said.

“So sue us,” Deuce told him, crossing for the door, not looking back until he got there. But Alex remained in her seat. “Alex? Come on.”

She didn’t move. She knew Deuce was right, that they should leave, but she kept thinking about that photograph of her father and El-Hashim. Kept visualizing it, thinking about all the years that had passed since she and Danny had last seen him.

“Alex,” Deuce said. “Hello? Let’s go.”

She still didn’t move.

Deuce frowned deeply now, then crossed to her chair and leaned in close. “You cannot possibly be considering this.”

“It won’t hurt to listen to what he has to say.”

Deuce gaped. “It’s a
prison
, Alex. A prison in a former Soviet country. Are you—” He paused and glanced at the others. “Can I speak to my partner alone for a moment?”

McElroy exhaled an exasperated breath. “Please make it quick.” He, Cooper, and the technician left the room.

The moment Alex and her partner were alone, Deuce said, “What are you thinking?”

“You know why I’m here. This woman, she spoke to my father.”

“Good for her,” Deuce said. “But right now she’s locked up in a goddamn Ukrainian prison out in the middle of nowhere. You think you’re just gonna slip in there and walk her out? I don’t know exactly how these dickheads think they’re gonna pull this off, but whatever their plan is, you and I both know it could go south about a thousand different ways.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, Deuce. I shouldn’t have involved you in this.”

“What the hell are you talking about? It’s a
woman’s
prison. I’m not the one who’ll be walking into the line of fire. That’ll be all you. If something happens while you’re inside, I’m not going to be there to help. Father or no father, I’m not gonna let that happen.”

Alex knew he was only speaking out of concern for her—out of love, when it came down to it—but Deuce could never fully understand the sense of loss she’d felt concerning her parents. If there was a chance to ease her pain—and Danny’s, too—she had to consider it.

“I’m staying, Deuce. I want to at least hear what McElroy has to say.”

Deuce studied her for a long moment, then sank into the seat next to her. “Jesus Christ,” he said, staring at the ceiling for several more seconds. “Okay, here’s the deal. We listen to their plan. But if it’s as batshit crazy as we both know it’s bound to be, we blow this place.”

Alex could only answer him with a smile. This was a promise she couldn’t make and Deuce knew it.

He sighed heavily. “Fine.” Reluctantly, he rose again, hesitating like he wanted to say more, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself. He went to the door, opened it, and headed back to his seat without another word.

McElroy stuck his head in. “Are we a go?”

Alex nodded. “Let’s continue.”

Once everyone was back in place, McElroy pointed at the satellite image of Slavne Prison.

“As you so astutely pointed out,” he said, “the facility houses only female prisoners. What I was going to tell you before the interruption was that it’s a low-security facility that’s used both for women convicted of nonviolent crime and women awaiting trial.”

Deuce gestured to the image. “You call that low security?”

“I know it looks intimidating, but it’s been there since well before World War Two. At that time, yes, it was intended for higher-risk inmates, but over the years they’ve built better, more modern facilities for those purposes.”

“I’m sure it’s just like Club Med,” Deuce said.

McElroy frowned at him. “May I go on?”

Deuce didn’t object.

“Slavne Prison is designed to hold just under fifteen hundred inmates, all housed in one of these three buildings.” With a laser pointer, he circled the three identical buildings within the big wall. “The amount of prisoners changes daily depending on trials. Sometimes they’re actually overcrowded, but currently they’re running at about eighty-seven percent of capacity.” He moved the light to the perpendicular building below them. “This is the administration building. It’s also where the infirmary is. Here and here”—the light touched on two points along the edge of the admin building—“are the only two intended ways in and out of the facility.”

“Are there any unintended?” Alex asked.

Ignoring the comment, McElroy touched on the two buildings outside the wall. “These are housing facilities for guards and other staff.” He moved the pointer to the building with its own wall on the other side of the prison. “And this is isolation, where they keep problem prisoners.”

“And where, exactly, is El-Hashim?”

He pointed at the middle of the three parallel buildings. “Here, on the second floor.” He glanced at his assistant. “Barbara? Schematics.”

The map shrank down until it was the size of one of the smaller rectangles, then moved to an empty slot along the bottom. Replacing it in the larger screen was an architectural drawing of one of the prison buildings.

“Push in on the cell,” McElroy ordered.

The whole image swung to the side, revealing it as a three-dimensional file, then traveled through the outside wall into the main corridor that ran through the center of the second floor. There, it pivoted, showing one of the doors.

“The cells have a three-digit numbering system. The first number indicates building, the final two the actual cell. This is cell number 259. El-Hashim seldom leaves it.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Deuce asked.

“We have someone on the inside. An informant.”

“And does this informant keep a constant eye on—”

“Can we get to the meat here?” Alex said, cutting Deuce off. “The bottom line is that I’m supposed to go in, right?”