Bailey swung the door wide, exposing stone steps heading down. Lights flickered on. The staircase led into the labyrinthine tunnels beneath Moscow, the same maze where the cache of books had been discovered. The Vatican’s century-old building, prior to being gifted to the Holy See, had been the Markin Mansion. As with many places of prominence built during that volatile period, it had incorporated a secret back door, taking advantage of those subterranean tunnels to use them for their original purpose—as a means of escape in times of emergency.
Like now.
“This way!” Bailey urged his two colleagues.
Gray reached the main door and called back to Monk and Jason. “If I’m not back in ten, lock that hatch. We’ll regroup at our secondary safehouse.”
Monk did not look happy with this plan, but they had civilians to safeguard. “What about Kowalski and Seichan? I can’t reach either of them on the radio.”
Gray headed out. “I’ll check on them, too.”
By now, the fierce firefight had died to sporadic bursts. The all-out assault had turned into a siege as assailants set about clearing the building, surely hunting for Gray and the others. From the sounds of battle, the Italian security guards continued to engage the intruders.
Hopefully, their efforts would buy Gray enough time to collect the others and retreat below.
He paused at the stairwell up to the main floor.
Tucker’s trail was not hard to follow. Gray heard gunfire echoing above, accompanied by savage growling. In the past, Gray had witnessed Tucker’s lethal efficiency—and that was when he only had Kane.
Now with two dogs...
No wonder the Ranger set off on his own with Elle.
Gray edged upward, climbing through a choking pall of smoke. Upon reaching the rear lobby, he saw four bodies sprawled across the floor. Beyond them, the door out to the parking lot had been hit by a rocket blast. The exit was blocked by a pile of rubble.
Gray turned and headed for the main floor.
A deafening barrage of gunfire burst ahead of him. He didn’t know if it was Tucker or other defenders of this castle. Smoke grew thicker. Fires glowed in the distance.
Taking advantage of the momentary cover, he ducked into the next hall, intending to check on his other teammates. The hallway ended at the embassy’s security nest. He sidestepped another two bodies—a guardsman and a combatant in black body armor. The floor was slick with blood, challenging his bad ankle.
Ahead, the door into the security room was ajar.
Had the others abandoned it?
He crept low and nudged it open with a palm, while keeping his SIG trained forward. A gunshot rang out. A round ricocheted off the doorframe and buzzed his ear. Gray ignored it and dove low, knocking the door wider. He slid on his shoulder across the floor and aimed his pistol where he expected the sniper to be from the bullet’s trajectory.
But the shooter had already moved, anticipating this.
A large shadow loomed farther to the right, limned against the row of static-filled security monitors. A huge gun reflected the meager light.
Gray shifted his aim.
A harsh voice called to him, “Don’t shoot.”
It wasn’t a command, only an urgent warning.
Gray forced his finger to relax on his gun’s trigger. He recognized the accent and the scarred profile as the man leaned down.
“Yuri...”
The Russian security chief helped him up. “I retreated here when all hell broke loose.”
Gray gained his feet and searched around. “The others?”
“No sign.”
Needing some intel, Gray crossed to the bay of CCTV monitors. They all ran with static. Valya had knocked out all the exterior cameras.
