16
May 11, 10:44P.M. MSK
Moscow, Russian Federation
Seichan opened the stairwell door that led out onto the fifteenth floor. She crouched low and inspected the hallway. It was deserted.
As she expected it would be.
The explosions and gun battles had sent the apartment dwellers into hiding—which was no surprise. From the Soviet years until now, Russians had learned it was wise not to be overly curious. The phrasezanimaytes’ svoim delom—mind your own business—was as common asdasvidania.
She straightened and exited the stairwell.
While climbing the ten flights, after ambushing one of Valya’s teammates, she had eavesdropped on the enemy’s chatter, using the radio she had stripped from the man she had hobbled. It had allowed her to roughly follow the battle at the embassy.
She had also discovered the channel where Valya communicated to her team leaders, including a woman named Nadira, who sounded like her second-in-command.
Seichan thumbed over to that channel as she continued down the hall. So far, there had been no indication over the radio that anyone was aware she was in the building. Even Valya’s commands were ripe with a combination of gloating and growing frustration. The latter was understandable.
Her team had a limited time frame to carry out this attack.
The flurry of sirens racing here made that abundantly clear.
You’re running out of time, Valya.
Then again, so was she.
As Seichan headed down the hallway, she kept to its center, carrying herself low, out of the sightline of the peepholes to either side. She feared Valya might have posted guards, hidden in a few of the rooms across this level.
But no alarms were raised.
No doors burst open.
She noted the odd-numbered apartments faced toward the Vatican embassy. It offered some assurance that the man she had interrogated had been telling the truth, but she had to be sure, especially as she carried her method of entry over her shoulder.
The RPG launcher hung heavy across her back. She intended to blast her way inside, then follow through the smoke and destruction to her target. But to avoid any collateral damage, she needed to make certain it was thecorrectapartment. Torture didn’t always glean honest information, just desperate responses, anything to stop the pain.
A familiar voice burst into her radio earpiece. It was Nadira—Valya’s lieutenant. “Good news. We have secured the botanist. And an unknown combatant with a large dog.”
Seichan’s pace slowed.
Were they talking about Tucker and one of his Malinois?
She struggled to understand how the pair had been captured. She expected Gray and the others to have been long gone by now, to have used the escape route into the subterranean tunnels. That had been the plan. It was why she had full confidence in abandoning the others and attempting to ambush Valya. Plus, this news further reinforced her suspicions that someone was leaking intel to Valya or her Russian employers.
It also supported Seichan’s earlier decision.
To tell no one about this gambit.
Valya responded, “What about our other targets? Any sign of them?”
“Negative. But we have the building locked down.”
Valya’s voice grew more frustrated, biting off each word. “Then they must still be inside.”
Seichan sneered, enjoying the woman’s aggravation, and continued toward the door stenciled with the number 1509. She crept forward, dropping even lower below the line of peepholes.
Once at the apartment, she glanced back to make sure all remained quiet, then leaned her ear against the door.
