Most of Seichan’s rounds missed, but one bullet struck Valya’s shoulder, nearly tearing her off her rope. Valya lost her rifle, but she snatched the line in a two-handed grip to secure her roost.
Recognizing a clean shot was unlikely, Seichan holstered her pistol, reached out, and grabbed the rappelling line. She pulled the rope closer and attacked it with her knife. She sawed with the blade’s serrated edge. One stroke cleared the outer sheath. The inner nylon weave proved tougher. Still, her finely honed Japanese steel cut deep with every saw stroke.
The line suddenly yanked in her grip, ripping free of her fingers.
She looked down.
Valya swung wide from the building, rappelling off the wall to gain that distance.
Seichan cursed, suspecting the other’s intent. She caught the rope again as Valya’s body rocked back toward the building. With two more strokes, the line snapped and snaked away. But it was too late.
From the corner of her eye, she watched Valya dive feetfirst into an apartment six stories below. Its window had clearly been left open, part of Valya’s emergency exit plan.
Seichan spun away, fearing the worst.
Knowing Valya, once she was safe and off the line, the assassin would have an additional countermeasure in place if she ever had to use that escape route.
Seichan raced through the smoke and growing fires from the grenade blast. She hit the hallway at full sprint. She rebounded off the opposite wall and sped away. Behind her, a deafening explosion tore through the apartment, shaking the floor under her. Debris blasted into the hallway.
She kept running, praying that was it.
She hit the stairwell door and headed down. She knew she had no chance of closing in on Valya. Sirens echoed, coming from every direction. They all had to get clear of the area.
Still, Seichan took a circuitous path, crossing various floors and descending other stairs. Once halfway down, she called up an elevator, climbed atop its cage through a ceiling hatch, and rode it into the basement, where a three-level parking garage spread beneath the complex.
From there, she made her escape.
Amidst the chaos, she easily cleared the cordon of arriving police, ambulances, and fire trucks. She continued across the city, heading for the team’s secondary safehouse, their fallback position. Behind her, helicopters buzzed the smoky column rising from the battlefield.
She scowled back, knowing this was only the opening volley of a greater war to come. She pictured Valya vanishing into the building and made a promise.
Next time, one of us won’t be walking away.
Still, Seichan acknowledged another outcome, one that was just as possible—and maybe always fated to be.
She coldly accepted this, too.
Or neither of us will walk away.
Third
17
May 12, 7:22A.M. MSK
Sergiyev Posad, Russian Federation
In the hotel bedroom, Gray whistled appreciatively as he eyed Seichan up and down. “I like this look on you. It’s not a wedding dress, but it’s definitely flattering.”
She scowled and ran her palm down the black clerical robe that enveloped her body. She also wore an apostolnik, a cloth veil that covered her head, neck, and shoulders.
She tied the latter under her chin. “I’ve worn Muslim hijabs that were less constrictive.”
“I’d be happier if we could cover your face, too.”
“So you want me in a burqa?” She glanced over to the rumpled state of the bed. “You wanted me in far less clothing last night.”
Gray reached an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I’ll take you however I can get you.”
