I move to the door and press my eye to the peep hole, and my stomach drops at what I see.
There are two men in the hallway, wearing dark jackets, crouched by my door knob. I recognize one of them from intelligence reports I studied before coming to Moscow. These are Koslov's men, probably sent by him to take me out before I can get to him.
They've found us somehow, tracked us to this shitty motel, and they're not going to leave until they've dealt with me once and for all. Because if I get to Marat first, their boss goes to prison and their operation falls apart, and all of them end up either dead or running for the rest of their miserable lives. If they get in here they won't let me live long enough to finish what I started.
I cross back to the couch and kneel down beside Noemi, putting my hand over her mouth before I shake her awake. Her eyes fly open and I can see the panic in them for a second before she recognizes me and forces herself to calm down.
"Don't make a sound," I whisper against her ear, keeping my voice as low as I can. "There are men at the door trying to get in. We have to run right now."
She nods and I take my hand away from her mouth, watching her sit up and reach for her clothes without making a sound. They're still draped over the dresser where I left them to dry, and she pulls them on quickly while I grab a chair and wedge it under the door handle to buy us whatever time I can. It won't hold them for long once they decide to stop being subtle, but every second counts when you're trying to get a woman and a child out of a building without getting everyone killed.
"What about Sasha?" Her voice is barely a whisper but I can hear the worry in it, the concern for my son that goes beyond just keeping him physically safe and extends to all the ways this kind of life can damage a child from the inside out.
"We wake him up and we go out the window."
"He's going to be terrified if we just drag him out of bed and throw him out a window without any warning, Fyodor. We can't do that to him, not after everything else he's been through. There has to be a better way."
There isn't time for explanations or gentle handling or any of the things she thinks are important right now. The noise at the door is getting louder and I can hear the men getting frustrated with the lock. They're debating whether to just kick the damn thing in and be done with it. They're going to break through any second, and then we're all dead and none of this will matter anyway.
"There's no good way to do this," I say, keeping my voice low even though I want to shout from frustration. "You want him happy or alive?" It sounds harsh but it's our current reality, which I am balancing on my shoulders as I shove my feet into my shoes.
"Okay, then we'll make it a learning experience."
I stare at her, completely baffled by what she's suggesting. The men outside are about to break down the door and kill all three of us, and she wants to turn this into some kind of educational moment for my ten-year-old son?
But she's already moving, crossing to the bed where Sasha is still sleeping peacefully under the blanket. She sits on the edge of the mattress and puts her hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently until his eyes flutter open.
"Sasha, honey, I need you to wake up for me."
He blinks at her, confused and groggy, and I watch from across the room while keeping one eye on the door. The chair is rattling now, the men on the other side putting more force into their attempts to get in, and I check the only weapon I have to find only four rounds in the chamber. I shove it into my belt as Noemi continues to wake Sasha.
"What's happening?" Sasha's voice is thick with sleep. "Is it morning?"
"Not yet, but we're going to do something exciting." Noemi's voice is perfectly calm. I have no idea how she does it. "Do you remember fire drills at school? How sometimes the alarm goes off and everyone has to practice leaving the building quickly?"
Sasha nods, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Well, even when you're on vacation, sometimes you need to practice for emergencies too. Hotels and motels can catch fire just like schools can, so it's important to know how to get out safely if something happens." She pulls the blanket back and helps him sit up and put his shoes on, though I can see her hands trembling slightly. "Your papa and I thought this would be a good time to practice, since we're all awake anyway."
"A fire drill?" He looks around the room, still confused but not scared. "But there's no alarm."
"That's because this is a special kind of drill. Sometimes, fires happen so fast that there isn't time to wait for an alarm. You have to know how to get out through the window in case the door is blocked."
I'm watching this woman work her magic on my son and I can barely believe what I'm seeing. She's taken a situation that should traumatize him for years, and she's turning it into something he can understand and participate in without fear. I could never do this sort of thing. I'd never even think of something like this.
"We're going to practice going out the window," she continues, standing up and offering him her hand. "I'll go first to make sure it's safe, and then you'll climb out after me, and he'll be right behind you. Okay?"
"Okay." Sasha takes her hand and lets her lead him toward the window where I'm already working the latch. "Can we get breakfast after?"
"Absolutely. Wherever you want."
I get the window open and look out at the parking lot, scanning for any sign of more men or vehicles that don't belong. We're on the first floor, thank God, so it's only a short drop to the ground and Sasha won't have to climb down anything dangerous. The car is parked about twenty meters away, close enough to reach quickly if we move fast and don't stop for anything.
The noise at the door reaches a crescendo and I hear wood splintering as the men finally give up on the lock and start kicking their way in. The chair holds for a few more seconds and then goes flying as the door bursts open.
"Go," I tell Noemi, lifting Sasha and pushing him through the window into her waiting arms. She catches him and sets him on his feet, grabbing his hand and running for the car while I turn to face the men coming through the door.
There are two of them, just like I saw through the peephole, and they're both armed with handguns already drawn. The first one raises his weapon, but I'm faster, crossing the distance between us before he can get a shot off and driving my elbow into his throat with enough force to crush his windpipe. He goes down choking and I grab his weapon, turning it on the second man who's coming at me like a freight train.
