Текст книги "Black Wolf"

Автор книги: Dale Brown

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

76

Old State Castle

The Black Wolf thumbed the End call button.

“They’re entering the courtyard now,” he said over the radio. “Be prepared.”

“Black Wolf, one of the prisoners says you know him,” Blue told him. “He says his name is Zen Stockard. Major Zen Stockard.”

Zen.

“I don’t know a Zen Stockard,” said the Black Wolf.

As the words left his mouth, a piece of a memory came back, a sharp shard striking the soft flesh of his brain.

He was in the sea… wet… someone was talking to him over a radio.

Zen.

Zen?

Zen heard footsteps coming toward the door.

“What’d he say?” he demanded.

“That he doesn’t know you. And that if you shout once more, I am to shoot you. And maybe I will shoot you now just for the pleasure.”

“There’s no answer in the restaurant kitchen,” Breanna told the minister. “There should be an answer.”

“Maybe they’re seeing to other guests,” said the general.

Major Krufts, General Josef, and Dr. Gustov got out of the car. Breanna, not sure whether to feel foolish or not, got out as well.

“I wonder if I could attend the sales presentation along with you,” she said, leaning back into the car. “Maybe we might be interested.”

“In Russian upgrades?” asked General Josef.

“We’re always trying to keep on track with what’s going on,” said Breanna.

The general frowned, but the minister remained polite. “I don’t see why not,” he said. “If they will sell to us, they would sell to you. Money is money these days.”

“My husband should come, too,” said Breanna. “He’s on the Senate Appropriations Committee. They have to approve purchases.”

It was a white lie—Zen had nothing to do with appropriations, at least not directly.

“Of course,” said Minister Gustov.

“Could you wait a minute while I go up and get him?”

“We can go as well,” said Gustov.

“Why not?” said the general. “I would like to meet your husband. I have many questions for him.”

“I would like to meet him as well,” said the minister.

“Good. Then we’ll all go,” said Breanna, trying to hide the relief in her voice.

“They’re moving inside. A woman is with them,” said Green, who was watching from the back of the keep. He was dressed as one of the security guards. “One other officer is with the minister and the general—there are four in all.”

“Do you have a shot on the minister?” the Black Wolf asked.

“Negative—not clean enough to guarantee.”

“Stay back.”

There were always wrinkles. One needed to be patient.

“In the lobby,” said White. “Four: three men, one woman. Going to the elevator.”

It would be over soon.

Breanna noticed a man watching them from the corner of the lobby as they walked in. They went straight to the elevator, where an attendant was waiting.

“Please close the door right away,” she told the elevator operator.

“What floor?” he asked.

Breanna waited until the door closed before answering. “Fourth. The man at the other end of the hall. Is he part of the hotel security force?”

“Could be,” said the elevator operator. “I didn’t see him.”

“Have you been here all morning?”

“Since four o’clock,” said the man, a lot more cheerfully than she would have expected.

“Did a man in a wheelchair use the elevator?”

“Oh, yes. I took him down for coffee about an hour ago.”

Breanna dialed Zen’s phone as soon as they stepped out of the elevator. It began to ring just as she reached Teri and Caroline’s room.

Someone picked up on the third ring but said nothing.

“Jeff?” she said. “Zen? Zen? It’s Bree. Honey?”

She could hear breathing on the other end, but not Zen.

It wasn’t him. Was it?

“Zipper me if it’s you,” she said.

It was an expression pilots used, or at least they had back when she flew combat. It meant to click the mike button or hit a key a few times to acknowledge, rather than talking.

The line clicked off.

“Mama!” shouted Teri, opening the door. “How did you get here?”

“Everybody inside the room,” said Breanna sharply, turning to the startled minister and general. “Someone is holding Zen prisoner in the restaurant.”

“They took the elevator upstairs, not down,” White told the Black Wolf. “Fourth floor.”

Zen.

Zen.

“You want me to go up and see where they are?” asked White.

“Have they seen you already?” the Black Wolf asked.

“The woman made eye contact in the lobby.”

“Hold your position. Green, come inside. Go to the fourth floor. See what’s happening.”

“On my way.”

“Blue. The man who asked for me—bring him here,” said the Black Wolf. “There’s something familiar about the name.”

The door to the storeroom opened abruptly.

“Who’s Zen?” said the man who’d been watching them.

“I am.”

“You in the wheelchair?”

“That’s me.”

“Come out.”

“I need some help.”

The girl moved forward quickly to push his chair, just as they had planned. The guard reached in and shoved her back.

I can grab his gun, thought Zen. But by then it was too late—the man had stepped back, out of reach.

“None of you move, or you all die,” said the man roughly. “Wheel yourself.”

Zen put his hands on the wheels and pushed out slowly, as if he were trying to heave himself up a steep hill.

“I could really use some help,” he started to say.

Before he could finish the sentence, the man put his foot in the back of the chair and shoved it with tremendous force. The wheels flew from Zen’s hands, and the chair rode straight across the kitchen, crashing into one of the counters. It rebounded backward, rolling nearly all the way to the man.

“Move yourself,” growled the man.

Stunned, Zen put his hands back on the wheels, starting slowly. He wasn’t acting now; the ride and crash had dazed him.

The man was big, but even so, his strength seemed disproportionate.

“Go,” he snarled. “On your own.”

Zen wheeled forward, trying to think of a Plan B.

“We need security in the building right away,” Breanna told Danny. “I think they have Zen.”

“I’m zero-five from the airport. I’ll have the Czech people over there ASAP,” Danny told her. “What room are you in?”

“Four B. We’re in the northeast corner.”

“All right.”

Breanna turned off the phone. Minister Gustov and the general had skeptical looks on their faces.

“I’m not some crazy female,” she told them. “I’m not having a panic attack. You know who I am. You know what I’ve been through.”

“That’s the only reason we’re still here,” said the general.

“I don’t know,” said Gustov. He looked as if he was going to leave.

“Listen…” Breanna glanced at Caroline and Teri. She didn’t want them to hear, but there was nowhere for them to go. “The CIA has been tracking a group hired to disrupt the NATO meeting.”

“That’s in Kiev in two days,” replied the general.

“Yes, but if they assassinated you here, that might achieve the same goal. The Russians would do that, don’t you think?”

“The Russians are capable of anything,” said Minister Gustov.

“Then wait for a few minutes more.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Don’t answer it,” said Breanna.

Danny Freah leaned forward in the car as the taxi pulled up to the Old State Castle gate.

“Who’s your commander?” he shouted.

The guard stared at him. Danny dropped fifty euros—about three times the fare—on the front seat of the cab and climbed out.

“Shut the gates,” he told the guard. “There’s an emergency in the hotel area. I need two men to come with me.”

“What? Who are you?” sputtered the man.

“Danny Freah. I’m with the American senator’s security team. We think he’s being held hostage.”

The phone inside the guardroom rang. It was the guard’s commander, ordering him to shut down all access to the facility. Help was on the way.

“There are two men near the museum,” said the guard, pointing. “I’ll call and they’ll meet you.”

Zen wheeled slowly toward the room divider, calculating that the longer he took, the more time the others would have to come up with a backup plan.

He was hoping one would occur to him as well, but ideas weren’t exactly popping into his head. He felt a little like he had the first time he rose to give a speech in the Senate—not just tongue-tied, but completely brain frozen.

“Who are you?” said a voice in English from behind the thick barrier.

Zen didn’t answer—he couldn’t. He concentrated on wheeling forward, around the barrier.

The Black Wolf stood with his arms folded across his chest. He held an MP–5 machine gun in his left hand, curled under his arm.

Was this Stoner? Zen looked at his face. It had been so long since he’d seen him.

“Who are you?” asked the man again.

“Zen Stockard.” The words came out haltingly. “Jeff.”

“I don’t know you.”

Zen’s brain unfroze. There was something in the snap of the answer—the sharp finality and sureness of tone—that told Zen it was Stoner.

“Mark. Do you remember? In the Pacific? You were with Bree. Remember the beer we had in the hospital? I smuggled them inside in my wheelchair?”

The man’s face didn’t change. But that only convinced Zen all the more.

Stoner had always seemed older to him, even though they were roughly the same age. Now he was much younger. He seemed almost not to have aged—his cheeks had hollowed, but his brow was smooth and his eyes unwrinkled. His hair was dappled gray, but it was full and thick.

“What happened?” Zen asked. He wheeled forward a foot and a half. “What happened after the helicopter crashed?”

“Quiet,” commanded the man, touching his earpiece to hear a radio transmission.

“This is security,” said the man outside the door to Teri and Caroline’s room. His English was heavily accented. “We have an important matter to discuss.”

“What matter is that?” Breanna demanded.

“There are reports of men with guns in the hotel,” said the man.

“We haven’t seen them.”

“I have been sent to protect you,” said the man.

“We’re fine.”

Major Krufts was desperately searching the room for something to use as a weapon. Breanna pointed to the lamp near the bed. But it was clamped to the side table.

The defense secretary and general were standing next to her. Caroline had taken Teri into the bathroom and closed the door.

“My orders are to protect you,” said the man.

“Great.” Breanna saw that the latch to the door had not been closed. She moved toward it quickly. “Stand guard in the hall.”

“I must see you to make sure you are not being held against your will,” said the man.

“Take my word for it,” said Breanna.

“I’m sorry. I cannot do that.”

Breanna reached the latch and pushed it closed. As she did, she heard a key entering the lock. She grabbed at the interior turning bolt, but couldn’t hold it back. The door opened, then caught abruptly at the latch.

Breanna threw her shoulder against the door, pushing it back to the frame. The latch caught. She pushed the lever closed, relocking it.

It was a momentary respite. The handle exploded, shot through from the other side. She spun back and to the side as the door flew open.

Danny heard the gunshot as he entered the building.

“The stairs!” he yelled. “Where are they?”

Even as the words left his mouth, he saw a door near the elevator at the far side of the hall. He raced to it, heart pounding.

“We are with you!” yelled one of the security men as he pushed into the stairwell. “Lead the way!”

Major Krufts jumped at the man as he came in. Krufts hit his arm and side, trying to grab the man in a bear hug. The intruder pushed him off as if he were no more than a fly, swatting him back with a sharp flick of his arm.

Krufts flew a good ten feet through the air, crashing into the wall near the bed.

The man turned and started to raise his gun. Breanna charged at him, her arm lassoing his neck. He remained upright, though her blow threw his aim off; three or four bullets crashed into the dresser and wall near the door.

Desperate, Breanna began kicking and clawing, trying to hit the man’s groin. He pushed his right arm up next to his chest and pried her off his body, flipping her down. As he did, General Josef hit him over the head with the heavy desk chair, which he’d managed to lift in front of him.

The man staggered to one side but didn’t go down. He grabbed Breanna, still flailing at him, and pulled his arm back to pistol-whip her.

“Stop!” said Dr. Gustov. “If you’re looking for me, I am here. Leave the others alone.”

Danny heard shouts as he reached the landing on the fourth floor. He grabbed at the door, then turned back as the first Czech security man reached him.

“Give me your pistol,” he told the man.

“But—”

“Don’t you have a backup weapon?”

The man hesitated, then reached down to his ankle where a small Glock was strapped. Danny took the gun and began to run toward the commotion.

Zen watched the Black Wolf’s face. There was obviously something going on, though it was impossible to tell exactly what.

Most likely the men he was going to kill were on their way here. What would happen when they arrived? Would Stoner kill him, too?

“Stoner, what’s going on?” Zen demanded. “Why are you doing all this?”

The man glared at him but said nothing, his hand pressed over his ear to listen to the radio.

“The Mark Stoner I knew was a patriot,” said Zen. “A CIA officer as dedicated as any person I’ve ever met.”

“Shut the hell up,” barked Stoner, pointing the gun at him. “Shut the hell up or I’ll shoot your tongue out.”

Breanna fell to the floor as the intruder released her. She saw Dr. Gustov, the minister, standing erect across the room, head high, jaw jutting forward, as if daring the man to shoot him.

The man grinned, and raised his gun.

“Don’t shoot him!” shouted Breanna. “Stop! Don’t shoot him!”

Three loud pops followed.

Breanna looked back toward Gustov.

He was still standing.

The intruder was lying on the ground, the back of his head shattered by bullets. Blood was spurting everywhere.

“Bree! Bree!”

Danny Freah loomed in the doorway.

The Black Wolf frowned. Green had gone off mission and entered the room without orders.

The Black Wolf pressed his hand to his ear, trying to hear what was going on.

“Green?” he demanded. “Report. What’s the situation? Green?”

“There’s gunfire upstairs,” said White.

“Investigate.”

“On my way.”

Green had obviously decided to take matters into his own hands. There was no excuse for that. He’d deal with him later, in the helicopter.

It should be only minutes away.

“What happened to you?” repeated Zen.

The Black Wolf looked over at him. He’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Who are you?” said the Black Wolf.

“Your friend,” said Zen.

“I don’t have any friends.”

“You did, fifteen years ago.”

“I didn’t exist then,” he answered.

The Black Wolf stared at the man in the wheelchair who called himself Zen.

It was so familiar, yet so far away.

Danny put his knee in the back of the man on the floor, dropping down to make sure he was dead. Blood was spurting from his head, flowing like water from a small fountain.

“Is everyone OK?” Danny asked. He looked across the room. The only one standing was an older gentleman, whose face was white. “You all right?”

“I am OK,” said Minister Gustov.

“It’s OK, it’s OK,” said Breanna, rising from the side of the room nearby. She leaped over the body and ran to the door on the left, yelling to her daughter and niece in the bathroom that it was all right.

The two Ukrainians on the floor groaned. Danny turned his gun toward the one against the wall on the far left, but it was obvious he wasn’t one of the Wolves—he was normal-sized, and a little pudgy.

One of the Czech officers yelled at someone in the hall.

“Stay here!” Danny told the others, bolting out of the room.

Gunfire erupted in the hallway as Caroline opened the door to the bathroom.

“Stay down. Get behind something—get in the bathtub,” Breanna yelled.

“Mama!” cried Teri.

“Stay down, Teri. I’m here.”

Breanna pulled the door closed, stayed outside—she could do more out here, she thought, racing to see what had happened to the dead man’s gun.

“The head! They’re only vulnerable in the head!” shouted Danny as the security officers began firing at the man near the elevator.

It was a mad, crazy scramble. Danny pressed against the side of the hallway, ducking down as bullets whizzed down the corridor.

“Danny, what’s going on?” hissed Breanna, crouching behind him.

“Get back in the room.”

“No. Who’s shooting?”

“He’s near the elevator. One of the guards who came with me tried to stop him.”

“He’s with the Wolves?”

“I don’t know—I haven’t seen them.”

“The man in the room, was he one of them?”

“I’m pretty sure. They’re all huge.”

There was fresh gunfire. Someone began screaming in pain.

“Stay down,” said Danny. He slid to one knee, steadied the Glock in both hands. It was a small pistol, .22 caliber—nothing against these guys.

Two more quick shots and the screaming stopped.

A bad sign.

“Aim for the head,” he said, raising his pistol.

The man turned the corner. Danny fired instantly, emptying the magazine.

His first shot grazed the man’s face; the second and third hit lower. The man swung his gun in Danny’s direction.

Something exploded in Danny’s ear. Again and again.

The Wolf assassin got off a single, errant shot before falling to the ground, dead.

The Black Wolf heard White go down. He’d been ambushed on the fourth floor.

It was time to abort.

“Blue, Red, we leave by the back,” he told the others over the radio.

“What’s going on?” asked Blue.

“We leave by the back.”

“What about the people in the locker?”

“Leave them. I have a hostage,” the Black Wolf said.

Zen braced himself as the Black Wolf approached, not exactly sure what he was going to do.

“You’re not going to shoot your way out of this, Stoner,” he said. “But I can help.”

“Shut up.”

“Listen, Mark—”

The Black Wolf grabbed the back of his wheelchair and spun him around. He pushed him toward the kitchen. Zen started to reach for the wheels, but they were moving so fast he realized he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“We’re taking a cripple as hostage?” said the gunman in the kitchen when they entered. “We should take someone who won’t slow us down. There’s a girl—”

“I’m a U.S. senator,” said Zen. “I’m worth more.”

Zen felt himself being lifted from his chair from behind.

“Shut your mouth,” growled the Black Wolf, flipping him over his shoulder as if he were a sack of potatoes.

Breanna clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking as she lowered the pistol. Her shots had hit the would-be assassin squarely in the forehead.

Danny Freah turned around and looked at her. Neither one of them spoke.

Breanna’s legs trembled as she rose.

“I can’t hear,” said Danny. “My ears.”

“Teri!” said Breanna, turning back to the room.

No one inside had moved. She ran to the bathroom.

“Teri! Caroline!”

“We’re OK!” yelled Caroline.

“It’s all right—you can open the door,” said Breanna.

They cracked the door cautiously, then pushed it open. Breanna pulled both of them close.

“The Czech security forces are surrounding the building,” said Danny, coming behind her.

“Zen—the elevator attendant said he went to the basement.”

Danny pointed to his ears. He still couldn’t hear well.

“Zen is downstairs. In the basement,” said Breanna, pointing downward.

“Zen? They’ll get him. The Czechs are surrounding the building.”

“Here’s a helicopter with troops now,” said General Josef, going to the window. “It’s landing right across the street.”

Zen tried to turn his eyes and brain into a human video camera, recording everything that he saw happening around him, in case it would be important later. Stoner carried him through a narrow, twisting hallway that zigged out from below the building, ending in a set of steps. They were up them in a flash. Light poured over him—they were out in a small open area, moving across gravel.

He’s going to have to put me down at some point, Zen told himself. That’s when I fight.

He’d hit him as hard as he could in any vulnerable area. Then he’d try to get him in a stranglehold.

Zen felt himself thrown against a fence, being pushed upward.

Escape!

He snagged a fence link with his left hand, then another with his right. He tugged—then felt his fingers being torn away. Someone punched or kicked his head. Zen flailed, but was hoisted up from the ground and carried over the fence.

Then he was falling.

He curled, and just barely managed to cover his face as he landed with a thud. The fall took his breath away, but he knew this was his chance—still free, he clawed at the ground, pushing himself like a crab.

Go, go, go!

Suddenly, he started to rise.

“Into the helicopter,” shouted the Black Wolf.

Breanna went to the window as the helicopter landed. It was a Mil Mi–17, an older troop-carrying helicopter used by many air forces in Eastern Europe. Painted in a light brown and green camo, the large helicopter spun its tail around as it set down.

The door at the side was open. Breanna watched, expecting troops or policemen to pour out, but none came.

Three men ran from the road that paralleled the castle grounds, racing toward the helicopter. One of them was carrying something over his shoulder—a person.

It looked like Zen in his old gray sweatshirt.

The man threw him into the helicopter head first. He rolled to his left, trying to push his way out, struggling. He grappled with his arms. One of the other men pushed him back into the helicopter. It started to climb. He rolled in her direction.

“Oh my God,” blurted Breanna. “They took Zen in the helicopter!”