“I believe I can persuade you otherwise.” Sychkin motioned to Yerik. “He can be quite convincing.”
The monk remained deadpan and expressionless—which was far more terrifying than some leering threat.
“That... that will take time,” Elle stuttered nervously. “And I’ll serve you far better as a willing participant.”
Sychkin lifted a hand and combed fingers through his beard. “I can appreciate that, so I will grant this largesse,” he slowly stated. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You may pickone. To leverage your cooperation. I see no need to keepboth.” He stared hard at her. “You still have some distance to travel today, Dr. Stutt. So, tell me, which of these two will accompany you on this journey?”
She balked at making this decision. From the dark gleam in the archpriest’s eyes, he savored his cruelty.
To delay matters, she pressed the man. “Where are you taking me?”
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one wondering this.
Yerik stepped forward with his brows pinched, as if he had the same question. Clearly, thisjourneywas news to the monk. Their plans for the day must be rapidly changing due to the attack. Yerik signed to Sychkin with crisp movements of his arms, followed by hand gestures, as if he were spelling something out.
“Da,” Sychkin acknowledged him. “I’ll have you escort Dr. Stutt, while I oversee the continuing search at the Lavra. Until we deal with these interlopers, I don’t think it’s wise keeping her so close. Captain Turov can secure her until she’s needed.” He turned to Elle. “We certainly don’t want to lose you again.”
Elle swallowed, gripping Marco’s leash.
Sychkin’s gaze swung between Kowalski and the dog. “Now, back to the matter of your decision, Dr. Stutt.”
She backed a step. “I... I can’t.”
He feigned a sympathetic look. “I don’t understand. I thought the choice would be an easy one. You’d truly balance a dog’s life against this tall fellow?”
She knew the archpriest was right. Still, she stared down at Marco. As if sensing her attention, the shepherd glanced up at her with dark caramel eyes. All night long, Marco had kept beside her, even sharing her cot—but not to sleep. As she drowsed, the dog had never stirred, his head up, his ears tall, guarding over her.
Beyond her affection and appreciation for Marco, she also felt a responsibility for him, especially knowing Tucker’s attachment to the dog. Marco was as much a brother to the man as any family member.
Kowalski coughed, drawing her eye, as if to plead his case to pick him. With his arms still above his head, he motioned at her in a strange, palsied manner.
Next to her, Marco whined, his neck stiffening. She stared down. His body trembled all over. She reached to him, but he collapsed under her—first to his chest, then to his side. His legs kicked in a hard convulsion, then went slack.
She dropped beside him. “Marco...”
8:57A.M.
With everyone’s attention on the dog, Kowalski lashed out. He swung his raised arm down and slammed his elbow into the woman behind him. He struck Nadira hard in the midriff, aiming for her solar plexus.
As she choked and fell backward, he spun and nabbed the MP-446 Viking from her hand. Kowalski squeezed off three rounds in fast succession, striking the security team gathered behind her before they could react.
Chaos broke out.
Kowalski ducked and whistled, swinging back around.
Marco leaped to his feet, guarding Elle with savage snarls.
The dog was quite the ham.
Tucker had once explained that the best tool of an extraction team—the duo’s specialty—was a perfectly timed distraction. Still, when Kowalski had hand-signaled Marco toPLAY DEAD, he hadn’t expected the dog to be so dramatic about it. Then again, the exaggerated display was likely purposeful, a tool of distraction when needed.
Kowalski grabbed for Elle’s arm.
Unfortunately, such a distraction—even a perfectly timed one—only lasted for so long.
