Father Bailey answered, his focus still on the spread of photos before him. “It concerns a lost continent called Hyperborea.” He looked up from the table. “And I believe someone found it.”
9:12P.M.
Always get the crap end of the stick.
Kowalski patrolled the rear wing on the third floor. Seichan had assigned him this lonely, dark section. While he would’ve preferred to keep watch somewhere closer to a kitchen, he hadn’t argued with her, not after noting her injuries and the hard glint to her eyes.
She had taken over command of the embassy’s security office, with its bank of CCTV monitors that showed every angle outside the place. The Italian guardsman had balked at this intrusion, but Father Bailey had arrived with a papal-sealed order granting them full control of the building.
When Kowalski had arrived at the security office, Seichan had immediately sent him off on patrol, likely to get him out of her way. She had been in no mood for anyone to second guess her. Not that he blamed her. She had been right about Valya luring Sigma to Russia and laying a trap for them, one that had nearly gotten her and Gray killed. Even that bastard Radic had been a rabbit that Valya had let loose for him and Tucker to chase.
He shook his head.
That tricky little witch...
Valya clearly was done underestimating Sigma.
And we’d better do the same with her.
Kowalski continued across the wing to check its far side. A penlight illuminated his way, but it only made the walls and ceilings draw closer—and the halls were already plenty tight in this old building. He had been forced by Gray to read up on the embassy, to memorize its layout, to know its history. The building was built more than a hundred years ago, when people must’ve been much smaller.
Definitely tinier than me.
He heard echoes of other men, embassy security, all speaking Italian. Their whispers carried eerily through the old structure, like disembodied ghosts. The floorboards creaked under his weight. This section of the embassy appeared little used. The offices were empty. The hallways had drapes of cobwebs that made his flesh crawl whenever he passed through them.
As with all embassies, these grounds were considered the territory of its home country—in this case, Vatican City. It was why Gray had agreed to make this their local safehouse. It served as the perfect shelter against any Russian incursion.
Though, right now, this place seemed less a sanctuary and more like a haunted house.
And I hate haunted houses.
He always had, even as a kid. The dark hallways, the cramped passages, the jump scares. It might’ve been because he had sprouted to his full six-foot-seven frame when he was only thirteen. He had been a gangly kid who didn’t know what to do with his limbs, so narrow spaces had always challenged him. Add in costumed assholes who always seemed to target the tall, goofy kid, and it was a true horror show.
He did not expect any such surprises here, but he found himself moving slower, trying not to creak the old floorboards. As he turned a corner, moonlight shone down the next hall. He had reached the windows on this side of the wing. The vantage would allow him to spy across the expanse of the parking lot to the neighboring buildings.
Relieved to abandon the dark, tight spaces, he headed toward the light.
Once near the end of the hallway, he heard someone speaking Russian, sounding furtive, but also perturbed.
Kowalski stopped at the corner and took a fast glance down the hall that paralleled the row of windows. At the far end, Yuri Severin stood near a stairwell, bathed in moonlight. The man clutched a cell phone to his ear.
Kowalski eavesdropped. Unfortunately, he knew only a few words of Russian, most of them curses. Still, Gray had been adamant about them all going dark, forbidding any unauthorized communication.
Clearly, Yuri had chosen to ignore this order.
What’s this guy doing?
Kowalski waited. He heard Tucker’s name mentioned—and from Yuri’s tone, it sounded like a curse word. Then again, so did most of the Russian language. Still, Kowalski stiffened when he heard the namesMarcoandKane.
He rememberedwhohad shown such exceptional interest in that furry pair.
Yuri’s gotta be talking to his boss.
Bogdan must have given his head of security an order to regularly check in.
Yuri finished his call, lowered the phone, and spat out a few words that Kowalski did know. “Yob tvoyu mat...”
Kowalski grimaced at the rudeness of the curse.
