She shook free of her thin blanket, patted Marco, her stalwart bedmate, and joined Tucker. Snow, mixed with sleet, fell heavily into the window well. The storm had finally struck. Lightning flashed across the strip of sky—followed by another cracking bang.
“Thundersnow,” she corrected. “We see it often in the spring in Saint Petersburg. As if Mother Nature can’t make up her mind about the season.”
Tucker nodded and drifted back to his cot. Elle stared at the storm for a couple more breaths, then did the same. Before either of them could sit, sharp voices echoed down the hallway, accompanied by a hurried tramp of boots.
Elle backed away, fearing they were coming to drag them out.
Tucker stepped in front of her. Marco, his ears tall and tail stiff, jumped off the bed and joined his partner.
A rush of men swept past the door’s small window. She spotted the bowed bulk of Yerik Raz. He was followed by Sychkin, who had shed his robes for street clothes. Others crowded with them, easily a dozen.
A stolid-faced stranger strode at the rear. He wore a furred greatcoat over a crisp navy blue uniform. A matching hat crowned his ashy white hair.
He called forward, half order, half exasperation. “This is unacceptable, Sychkin. I’ve tolerated it once, and I’ll not—”
Sychkin answered without turning or slowing, “Captain Turov, time is urgent. We have only thisonemoment. And I have the blessing of our patriarch, along with those who listen to him.”
The group continued past, packed together by the urgency expressed.
They vanished out of view, but a loud door slammed shut. Quieter voices continued to reach them from out in the hall, likely guards left by that door.
Tucker turned to her. “What was that all about?”
She told him what she had overheard, knowing he wasn’t fluent in Russian. “It seems like the base’s commander is being hauled into this mess—and he’s not happy.”
Tucker looked back at the door. “Join the club.”
Elle returned to her cot, to wait out whatever was happening. Tucker did the same across from her. Marco hopped next to Elle. With her heart pounding, she doubted she could even manage a light slumber.
Outside, the storm grew worse. Winds howled over the mouth of the window well. Snow pattered, sticking to the glass through the bars, quickly obliterating the view. It made her feel even more trapped.
She pulled the blanket over her shoulders and leaned against the wall. She stared unblinking at the thickening snow.
Then a scream burst from the hallway, sharp enough to be heard through the distant door. Another followed. Muffled angry voices filled in the silences. Then another cry, full of blood and anguish.
Elle could take it no longer. She burst from her cot, crossed toTucker, and dropped beside him. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Marco came, too.
Huddled together, all they could do was listen to a chorus of agony.
She leaned her face into Tucker, silently pleading.
Make it stop...
6:32P.M.
Parked at the rear gate of the naval base, Kowalski tried to shrink his frame in the passenger seat of the Berkut’s cab. He kept his head down and the woolen balaclava pulled over his face.
Yuri stood at the open door, leaning half out toward a stationed guard.
Snow pelted at them. Winds whipped, threatening to tear the door off the cab. Yuri yelled to be heard. One of the guards inspected his papers, then shone his flashlight into Yuri’s eyes.
Yuri cursed at him and swatted at the light. He waved at the double snowmobile, which idled behind their vehicle, then chopped an arm toward the gate, clearly pressing their need to get out of the storm.
Kowalski leaned a cheek to his shoulder. A radio earpiece, translating in real time, allowed him to roughly follow the argument.
The second guard strode around the Berkut, bowing against the wind. He circled to Kowalski’s side of the cab.
Uh-oh...
