Fourth
24
May 12, 9:45A.M. MSK
Sergiyev Posad, Russian Federation
Seichan paced the length of the suite’s salon, staring out the windows toward the breadth of the Trinity Lavra. Kane had also taken up a post there, his gaze fixed outside, clearly worried about his missing partners.
She was, too.
Her team had returned to the hotel thirty minutes ago, fleeing the fires and the cordon of police and military vehicles. On the far side of the monastic compound, a column of smoke rose into the sky. A pair of helicopters circled around it.
She turned her back on the sight, leaving Kane to maintain his vigil.
Monk sat at the dining table. Kowalski scowled across from him with his wounded arm thrust out. A med kit lay open between them.
Shortly after Tucker had reported that he was in pursuit of Elle and Marco, Kowalski had stumbled out of the lower depths of the mansion. She and Yuri had hustled him off, collecting Kane from the alley. Minutes later, Monk had radioed them. He had reported that Gray and the others had opened a secret door, one possibly leading to the lost Golden Library.
In turn, Seichan had informed him of their own dilemma.
She stared over at the steel dagger with its carved black handle. It rested on the table. It was Valya’sathamé.The blade had been impaled through Kowalski’s forearm.
Needing Monk’s skill as the team’s medic, they had regrouped at the Old Lavra Hotel. Monk was supposed to return to the tower, but the priority was to attend to Kowalski. Even for such a big brute, he had lost a lot of blood.
“Quit squirming,” Monk warned, pinning the big man’s wrist down.
It looked as if it would take all of the engineered strength in Monk’s prosthetic hand to keep Kowalski from yanking his arm back.
“Just put a Band-Aid on it already. I’ll be fine.”
“Do you want to lose your arm?”
“I can barely use it now.”
“Enough whining. The nerve block will wear off in a couple hours.”
Seichan ignored them as Monk continued suturing Kowalski’s arm. She turned to Yuri. “Any response from Tucker?”
The Russian security chief shook his head. “Nyet.He still maintains radio silence.”
Seichan frowned. There had been no further word from the man after he had taken off after the others. Kowalski had informed them about what had happened down below. It seemed the Sychkin family—with its generational history of illicit pursuits—had built an escape hatch out of their mansion, one leading through the garage.
Seichan clenched a fist. “Tucker wouldn’t stay silent this long. Something’s wrong.”
Kane glanced up at her, as if he agreed with her. She knew Tucker barely tolerated teamwork, preferred being a lone wolf, just him and his dogs. It was a trait that Seichan often envied.
Just not now.
“Do you think he was captured?” Yuri asked. “By our enemy? By the authorities?”
“No way of telling. It could be a problem with his radio. But if I’m wrong or if he was captured by Sychkin’s crew, then we need to knowwherethe archpriest was taking the botanist. That’s our only lead.”
Kowalski lifted his good arm, raising a scowl from Monk. “I may know,” he called over.
Seichan crossed to him. “How?”
“Elle raised that same question.” Kowalski pointed toward the column of smoke in the distance. “Back in the subbasement. Before they took her. She was the only one courteous enough to speak English during the exchange. The others spoke in Russian.”
