But which direction did Radic go? Right or left?
As Tucker slowed, Kane dashed forward.
Believing his partner had recaptured the trail, Tucker followed. The shepherd raced to the side of the main entrance and sniffed at a few shards of glass on the ground. Above, a low window had been shattered, its sill brushed clear of glass.
Bastard didn’t go around—he went through.
Tucker crouched and peered inside the window. Humid air wafted out. The arboretum was filled with palms and orchids. It looked as impenetrable as the thickest jungle. Radic could be holed up anywhere inside, or maybe he was planning on breaking out the far side.
With no other choice, Tucker climbed through the broken window. Kane leaped after him, landing silently. Still, he noted the dog’s right forelimb—the one nearly blown off—buckling before straightening again.
Kane was reaching his limit.
Tucker dropped to a knee. “STAY,” he ordered firmly, then tempered with softer words. “Guard this exit. Can’t have that bastard sneaking out behind me.”
Kane rumbled, nearly inaudible, just a vibrato in his chest. The dog was not happy with this command.
Still, Tucker reinforced it, pointing at the broken window. “GUARD.”
Kane huffed, circled once, and stood stiffly.
Satisfied, Tucker set off into the depths of the arboretum.
This time I hunt alone.
6
May 11, 4:12A.M. MSK
Saint Petersburg, Russian Federation
Joe Kowalski crouched inside the rear compartment of the crashed SUV. He swept a penlight over the unconscious body draped across the back. It was a woman, late twenties or early thirties, with snowy blonde hair tied in a ponytail. A bruise was beginning to purple under one eye, but the blow wasn’t what had knocked her out.
He checked her pulse and found it strong. A pass of his penlight over her eyes revealed glazed, dilated pupils.
Drugged...
He eyed that welt on her cheek.
“You put up a fight,” he mumbled. “Good for you.”
But who are you, lady?
The woman was wearing grayish-green coveralls. Even through the baggy clothing, she appeared fit. He shifted his light to a nametag clipped to a chest pocket.
“Dr. Elle Stutt,” he read and squinted at the Russian Cyrillic below it.
???????-?????????????
Kowalski shrugged, not understanding, but he dismissed this mystery for now.
He slid out of the back of the truck. He had already hauled the two dead bodies into the bushes beyond the gate, but there was nothing todo about the pools of blood. He frowned at the spare tire mounted on the SUV’s lift-gate.
Probably should change the blown tire.
Radic had abandoned the vehicle with the keys still in the ignition. If they were going to haul this woman with them, the vehicle would be useful.
Still, he took a moment to check his tablet. He had been monitoring Tucker’s progress across the botanical garden. The glowing blip that tracked Kane’s microchip had stopped.
