The van finally braked to a hard stop. Moments later, the door slid open. Even with his head bagged, the brighter light suggested they hadn’t driven into a garage. He also heard the roar of heavier engines, both those rumbling in low timbres and others that screeched louder. He recognized the sounds of jets, landing and taking off.
An airport...
That was worrisome. He had hoped he’d be held somewhere closer at hand, to better his chances of a rescue.
Nadira nudged him with her pistol. He did his best to maneuver to the door. As he bent down to exit, a hand ripped the bag from his head. He blinked against the sudden brightness.
Valya stood there, holding the hood. “Sychkin wants to speak to you.”
“I’m sure it’ll be a pleasant conversation. But what about Dr. Stutt and my dog?”
“That beast is yours?” Valya said. “Didn’t know Sigma had its own kennel. You’ve been a thorn in my side since Saint Petersburg.”
“I’m not with Sigma,” Tucker answered truthfully, enjoying the surprised pinch to Valya’s brows. “I’m a hired gun. Like you.”
“A mercenary?” Her voice rang with doubt.
“I prefer the term contracted employee. I was paid to track an operative of yours in Saint Petersburg. I was one of many tails placed on people in your organization.” This last was a lie, but it sounded good to him. “My specialty is in hunting and extraction. After I secured Dr. Stutt, I was to keep her safe. So, if anything, you’ve been a thorn inmyside.”
Valya took this all in with a calculating expression, rubbing a finger along her jawline. He didn’t know how much she believed, but he had no doubt she was assessing how best to put this to her advantage.
She finally swung to the side, clearing the way for him to hop out of the van, which was challenging with his arms secured behind him. He searched around and saw they were parked on the tarmac of a private airstrip, one next to a much larger and busier terminal. From thedistance they had traveled, he guessed the main facility was Moscow’s Sheremetyevo International Airport.
As he was led toward an open hangar, Tucker noted a small jet idling nearby. Its tire blocks were being dragged away by a sullen-faced employee, who showed no interest or surprise at the bound prisoner being marched at gunpoint into the hangar, as if this were a common occurrence.
Ah, Russia...
A voice rose from the depths of the building. “Tucker...”
It took him a few steps to pick out Elle’s shape from the shadows. She stood before a closed office door. He also spotted a familiar four-legged figure. Marco had already recognized him as a breeze blew into the hangar, carrying Tucker’s scent to the shepherd.
The dog whined and cried in a distressed greeting. Marco yanked on his leash, nearly toppling Elle over, who carried the other end of the lead.
“STAY,” Tucker called over. “SIT.”
Marco leaped once more toward him, then dropped to his haunches.
Tucker knew the familiarity of these simple commands would help calm the young Malinois. Dogs grew stressed in unknown situations, and with all that had happened, Marco was surely frazzled and drained. To hear Tucker’s voice and to be able to fall back into the routine of his training was a warm hug of reassurance.
Tucker crossed toward the pair. They were watched over by the looming bulk of Yerik Raz. He carried no weapon, but his presence alone was intimidating enough.
Marching ahead of Tucker, Valya passed by the large monk and headed into the office without knocking. Tucker was left in the tender care of Nadira, who led him to Elle and Marco.
Once there, Tucker noted the muzzle locked around the dog’s snout. Though he could appreciate the necessity on their captor’s part, anger still fired through him.
Marco whined again in greeting, but the dog maintained his position, sticking to the last command. A tail swished behind the dog, but it was not the full swing of joyfulness. Only the tail’s tip wagged, a sign of wary caution, as if Marco feared he had done something wrong.
Tucker wished he could reach out and console the dog. But with his wrists bound, he did all he could. He dropped to a knee and leaned his face close. “You’re a good boy, Marco.”
A tongue licked through the barred gate of the muzzle.
“I’m happy to see you, too,” Tucker said.
Elle crouched next to him. “Are you okay?”
He turned to her and shrugged. “I’ve had better days.”
The tension eased slightly in her shoulders. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you know what happened to your friend, Mr. Kowalski?”
