Kirill swears under his breath. “By the dam,” he says. “We passed a squat building near the water before we parked. I thought it was a shed.”
“Good,” Ilya says. “You are not completely rusted.”
I grab the tablet and jam it into Kirill’s hands. “Keep eyes on her,” I say. “Call out any change. Everyone move.”
We spill out of the house. The cold air hits my face. My body goes sharp.
“Oleg, three men with you,” I bark. “Perimeter around the pump house. Eyes out. No one slips away. If you see a shadow that’s not ours, you take it.”
He nods and runs.
“Kirill, with me,” I say. “You two on the dam. Check for a second trigger. Ilya likes layers.”
We rush down the rough path toward the water. The ground is hard. My boots slam on the frozen dirt. The lake lies ahead, flat and dark. To the right, the old stone dam cuts across the narrow end. At one side of the dam sits the pump house, a low rectangle of concrete with a tin roof and a single metal door. A weak light burns above it.
The noise from the water grows louder. A slow push against the stone. I hear my own blood in my ears.
Kirill runs beside me with the tablet held tightly. “Timer at three minutes twenty,” he says. “She still breathes. No new movement.”
“Good,” I answer.
We reach the small clearing in front of the pump house. Oleg and his team already cling to the walls, covering left and right.
“No one outside,” Oleg says. “No tripwire on the path. Door is old, locked with a padlock. No fresh wires on the outside.”
“Inside,” I say. “Everything sits inside.”
Kirill lifts the tablet so I can see. Raina still sits in the chair. Her head sags. The timer now shows 03:02.
“Ilya,” I shout. “If this bomb takes her, the deal is dead.”
His voice floats down from a small speaker over the pump house door. I had not seen it before. It blends with the concrete.
“I’m not stupid,” he says. “I know you. If she dies now, you’ll burn the world and I lose my game. But I also know you like to pretend you can beat time. So this is my test. Show me if you still can.”
“You rigged this,” I say. “You can shut it down.”
“Of course I can,” he says. “Where is the sport in that? This one is yours,Seryozha. You always thought you were faster than the rest of us. Run.”
I don’t waste another word on him.
“Door,” I say.
Oleg swings his rifle down and steps aside. I pull the small breaching charge from my vest, slap it near the lock, and pull the line. “Back, cover ears,” I mutter.
We turn our heads and brace. The blast is small but sharp. The lock blows apart. The door jumps. Smoke curls from the metal.
Timer: 02:31.
I kick the door open and step in with Kirill on my right. Two more men follow, weapons up.
The air inside is damp and cold. The room smells of old concrete, rust, and something chemical from the bomb. Pipes run along the walls. A single bulb hangs from the ceiling. It swings from the shock. Shadows jump.
Raina sits in the chair in the center. Her ankles are taped to the legs. Her wrists are bound behind her. Her head hangs. Blood has dried at her temple where someone hit her. At her feet, bolted to the floor, sits the device from the feed. Wires run from it to small bundles fixed under the chair and to the walls. The timer shows 02:12.
22
SERGEI
