The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3) (37 page)

But all was not lost He would hurt Hamm through his woman. Ryan was stubborn, and independent. She would not change her plans because of Hamm’s departure. Surely she would head to North Carolina.

Hrubec left the safe house. He would drive to the Outer Banks tonight. He would strike at his enemy through the redhead.

Ryan would die, and in pain!

It was evening when Jeannine drove through the rutted sand to Anne Simek’s beach rental. Over the Currituck Sound to the west, the sun’s red rim hesitated on the horizon. The wind had a December chill, but it was warmer than Front Royal.

She parked next to Anne’s rental car. As she reached in the back seat for her satchel, her fingers brushed the Marlin shotgun.
Why not?
She picked up the gun along with her satchel and climbed the steps to the mid-level entrance.

Anne answered the door.

“Where’s Bill?”

“Somewhere over the Atlantic, on his way to Europe.”

Anne did not enquire further. She knew about separations.

Then she saw Jeannine’s shotgun.

“What’s that for?”

Jeannine shivered at the memory of Abdul-Malik’s mangled body.

“I’ll tell you later. Thank God I don’t need it anymore. Where’s Mila?”

“She and Jim went to her house in Nags Head. My father and I are alone. Jeannine, I know you’re tired, but come upstairs first. I want you to meet him.”

She led Jeannine up to the great room. Jeannine leaned the shotgun against the kitchen counter and turned towards the sofa where a man sat. Anne leaned over him.

“Father, this is my friend Jeannine Ryan. Jeannine, this is my father, Havel.”

Havel rose without speaking and took Jeannine’s hand. She smiled. Anne waited a moment before intervening.

“Father, I know you’re tired. Jeannine is too. Your bedrooms are down on the mid level. I’ll show you.”

Anne picked up Jeannine’s satchel and started down the steps. Jeannine, exhausted from the long drive, was happy to retire. Havel went straight to his room.

Anne returned up the stairs to the great room. There, disappointed that Peter had not come with Jeannine, she sat alone and listened to the surf crashing on the beach out of sight behind the dunes.

After some minutes, she stepped into her bedroom. The moon shone brightly, lighting the scattered clouds over the Currituck Sound and casting soft shadows on Anne’s wall.

Soon she was deep asleep.

A door opened and shut.

Anne Simek sat up, eyes wide.
How long did I sleep?
She looked to the west where the moon, now high and distant, lit the clouds a shimmering white against the dark sky. The waters of the sound rippled and glistened in the pale light.

She shook her head clear, stood up, and reached for the light switch. A nearby movement stopped her.

A man stood at the foot of the bed, his face and form vague in the shadows.

She froze. The man spoke.

“Miss Simek, do not scream. It would only bring your father and Miss Ryan, and then I would have to kill you and him too. That would be an unnecessary waste.”

Anne’s eyes roved the room, wildly searching for hope, for some means of escape, but found none.

“No, Miss Simek, there is no way out, except that you follow my instructions. Bad or good, I am your only hope now. Do not fight me.”

At that moment beams of moonlight pierced a high cloud and glanced across the man’s face. Anne saw that his eyes were dark, almost black.

“What do you want?”

But the man did not answer. He moved suddenly to the side and stamped downwards. Anne heard a scratchy squish.
He killed a roach!

But the brown things with six spiky legs no longer mattered to her. She had bigger trouble. She spoke again.

“What do you want?”

“I know Miss Ryan has a shotgun with her. I want you to call her up here to see the moonlight on the clouds. She will come in unarmed and I will subdue her while you sit over there. Then you will watch as I cause her great pain, violate her and terminate her. You will remember every detail, her shrieks, her writhing, and you will tell Mr. Bill Hamm everything, every detail. That is why you will live. I will spare you to hurt him.”

“My God!”

“There is no God.”

“But there is, and He will punish you!”

“As you wish. Will you call Miss Ryan.”

“You are a monster.”

“What is your answer?”

“If I say no?”

“I will kill you and your father. And then torture Miss Ryan. You and he will die needlessly, and I will write Mr. Hamm with all the details of Miss Ryan’s death myself.”

Havel Simek’s bedroom was directly under his daughter’s on the Currituck Sound side of the house. Heating vents in the two rooms shared a common duct, so that when these were open, neither room was soundproof.

The fresh air of the Outer Banks induced slumber. Havel slept.

He heard a door open and close.

The dream!

He was in the room with the pink ceiling and exposed pipes. Bright lights blinded his eyes, as he repeated an all too familiar refrain.

“
Nevim, Nevim, Nevim nic.
‘I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know anything.’”

And then the blows, many to his kidneys, to his shoulders, his shrieks of pain, always followed by a welcome blackness that undulated to nothing.

Awaking, Havel felt his forehead. It was wet with sweat. He drifted off again.

More blows to the back, pain, pain, pain, followed by darkness.

Then he heard that voice. The rasping tones of that unknown man who had led the torture, broken his body, his spirit.

He awoke, but the voice was still there.

The voice was real.

Muted, it came through the duct from his daughter’s room.

Barefoot, Havel crept up the stairs to Anne’s level.

The moon was bright. Havel could see clearly. No sound arose from Jeannine’s bedroom downstairs. Evidently, she had heard nothing.

Havel went to the kitchen.
Perhaps a knife?

Then he saw it. Jeannine’s shotgun lay against the counter next to a stool.

He picked it up and turned towards his daughter’s room.

The door to Anne’s bedroom opened. A man stood in the dark shadows of the doorway. Havel froze.

The man held a Browning, pointed at him.

Behind the man, Havel recognized his daughter.

The man spoke.

“Good Evening, Mr. Simek.”

The voice was rasping, harsh. Havel knew those sounds.

“You!”

It was the voice of evil in his nightmare!

Havel pointed the shotgun at the ugly specter.

Josef Hrubec laughed.

“So it’s you! The one I called the ‘Roach.’ I thought I squashed you for good. No matter. You have changed, but you will still obey me. Put down the weapon. Now!”

At the confident strength of that voice, Havel’s eyes glazed. Still, he kept the shotgun pointed towards the doorway.

Hrubec continued.

“I know you remember the pink ceiling. We all were younger then you, Johan and I, but you have aged the worst.”

A momentary pause, then Hrubec still pointing the Browning at Havel, reached out his free hand.

“You old fool, give me the gun. You won’t pull that trigger.”

Anne screamed.

“Father! It’s not the dream. He’s real!”

At the sound of his daughter’s voice, Havel’s eyes opened wide. He tilted the shotgun upwards.

At point blank range, he could not miss.

Havel pulled the trigger.

But there was no explosion.

“Click.”

Hrubec’s eyes opened wide. Then he laughed.

Jeannine’s shotgun was not loaded. Her father had drilled her never to keep a loaded shotgun in car or house.

Hrubec did not wait. He slammed his Browning against the side of Havel’s head crumpling him to the floor.

Then he picked up the shotgun and turned to Anne.

“Your father has done us a favor. Now we have Miss Ryan’s gun. She is unarmed. Call her up here.”

Anne shrank backwards against the wall. She shook her head “No.”

Hrubec shrugged and stepped towards the stairs. He passed the expansive windows at the front of the great room and glanced out.

The drapes were pulled back. All appeared normal. In the moonlight the dunes shone white amid the twisting blue shadows of waving Sea Oats.

Then, all at once, the sea breeze disappeared. The fruited heads of the Sea Oats drooped earthwards, still and motionless in the moonlight. There was no wind.

Hrubec was unsettled by the sudden stillness. An omen?

But it was the slight sounds heard after the wind stopped that truly unnerved him.

Footsteps scraped along the deck at the side of the house.

Jeannine appeared at the head of the stairs.

“Anne, what’s all the noise about.”

In the dim light Jeannine recognized his dark eyes, her former captor. She drew back.

“No!”

But Hrubec swung the Browning in a circular motion. She saw the blow coming and raised her arm to block it. Though partially deflected, the blow knocked her senseless.

She fell to the floor

Before Hrubec could assess Jeannine’s condition, a loud banging sounded from the deck.

“Anne, it’s Peter. Open up. What’s wrong? Who’s in there with you?

Hrubec responded. Several rounds from the Browning shattered the safety glass of the doors.

Anne jumped to the side and cried out.

“Peter, watch out. He has a gun!

Hrubec turned and fired at her. Unharmed, she dropped behind the sofa.

Hrubec turned back to the shattered doors, but now, Peter stood before him.

Hrubec had thought Peter unarmed. In dismay he saw that Peter held a gun, a Makarov. It jerked upwards, twice.

Hrubec realized that a shot had been fired. He felt a thrust in his chest as the initial 9 mm round moved him backwards and sideways. Then the second round struck his head and all awareness ceased.

Hrubec was dead before his body hit the floor.

Fortunately for Jeannine, Hrubec’s blow had glanced to the side and not caused its intended damage. She shook her head and struggled to her feet.

In the center of the room, Anne and Peter Zeleny were locked in a fierce embrace. Nearby, Anne’s father sat up with a dazed expression on his face.

Anne looked away from Peter.

“Jeannine, are you all right?”

Jeannine nodded.

“I’m fine. But your father?”

Havel stood up. Anne smiled.

“He’s fine.”

Anne wasted no time. She took Peter by the arm and dragged him in front of Havel.

“Father, Peter and I want to be married and we need your blessing.”

For several moments, Havel stared at the still body on the floor. When he looked up his eyes were clear. He addressed Peter, not Anne.

“My daughter is all I have in this world. Promise me you will take care of her always, and I will give her to you.”

Peter swallowed.

“I will.”

Havel smiled.

“Then, my son, it is done.”

Anne covered Josef Hrubec’s body with a bed sheet while Jeannine stood by.

They left the body untouched, but no one wanted to stay near it. Cloaked with blankets Peter, Anne, Havel and Jeannine sat on the deck to Anne’s bedroom to wait for Jim Harrigan and deputies from the Currituck County Sheriff’s office.

It was only after the arrival of the police that Jeannine’s analytic mind returned to action.

“Peter, thank God you had a gun, but you don’t carry one. Where did you get it?”

“There’s an old tin box under the house, like for old milk bottles. It was in that box.”

“But how?”

“After I drove Aileen here from Maryland, I put it there. I was afraid of what Jim Harrigan might think so I hid the gun there. It’s the one I took from Gustav.”

“Afraid of Jim Harrigan?”

“He’s police. There was a time when we Czechs could not trust the police. I know it was stupid, but ...”

Jeannine smiled.

“Your ‘stupidity’ saved us. Thanks.”

Anne stepped to Peter and looked into his eyes.

“Let me repeat that. Thanks.”