He opened the door the rest of the way and entered. The bathroom was just ahead on his left before the entryway opened into the main room. The bathroom light was off, and he couldn’t recall whether he had left it on or not. Still, the second tell was there, and he knew he was being paranoid. He allowed himself to relax completely as he strode into the room.
But while his conscious mind allowed itself to be complacent, his primal subconscious had no such ability. Years of training and operational experience had installed a deep level of programming into him that was not easily undone. It was the reason why he more felt than saw movement from the bathroom as he passed, and why his body was primed to defend itself.
Nate threw up his left arm, covering his ear and blocking his head while simultaneously shrinking to protect his flank. A hard object rained down on his forearm and the pain registered immediately. He absorbed the blow and then squared to meet his attacker as the unknown assailant lunged forward. The two men flew into the main room and onto the floor at the foot of the bed, knocking over Nate’s duffel bag.
The attacker was dressed in a black leather jacket and wearing a mask and leather gloves. Nate attempted to roll away, but the man jockeyed for a position of leverage as they grappled on the floor. Within seconds the man was on top and attempting a blood choke using thecollar of Nate’s suit coat. His attacker was well trained. Nate thrust his hips forward, temporarily putting the man off balance and causing him to release one hand to stabilize himself using the floor. It was the same move he had used last week against his opponent at the fight gym.
The shifting of weight was all Nate needed. He trapped the man’s hand on the floor with one hand while reaching behind the arm with the other, before scooting to the side to engage the man in an armbar. He felt the satisfaction of a well-executed move and worked to apply maximum pressure to break the arm.
He miscalculated. The man went with the move while locking his fingers from both hands together, before applying a vicious headbutt. His attacker’s forehead met with the side of Nate’s face and he saw stars. His grip slackened and the man pulled free, instantly pivoting while holding on to Nate’s hand and engaging in an armbar of his own. Nate mimicked the same defense his attacker had used and locked hands. Still the man pulled. He was strong, and his technique was flawless. Nate was going to lose, and he knew it. The man would break his arm and then likely his neck.
Unlike when he had lost control at the fight gym, the former Green Beret felt calm, his anger and adrenaline channeled into focused acts of violence. His mind searched for an answer. He couldn’t beat his assailant outright and needed to think outside the box. Glancing up, he noticed they were between the bed and the television. Nate recalled a statistic he had heard somewhere that on average, falling TVs sent children to the emergency room every thirty minutes in the United States. While this man was far from being a toddler, it was still worth a shot. He maneuvered around until the man’s head was where he wanted it, then flipped his legs over his head and kicked the entertainment center as hard as he could.
The television wobbled but didn’t fall. He kicked again. And again.Each kick created a more severe wobble until finally it slowly began tipping forward. Nate gave it one more good kick to send it on its way, and the sixty-inch flatscreen hurdled toward its intended target. The man instantly let go to protect himself and Nate took the opportunity to roll away.
The television landed on the man with a loud crash, and he grunted but appeared otherwise uninjured. At the same time there was a loud pounding on the door with some muffled yelling behind it. The noise of the fight must have alerted Wally in the next room, spurring him to investigate. Nate sprung to his feet and rushed to the door, thankful that he hadn’t engaged the lock, and yanked it open.
Wally stood outside in a pair of boxers and a white T-shirt. He looked at Nate’s disheveled appearance and peered beyond into the messy room.
“Hey, mate, you alright?” he asked with concern.
Nate spun around to face the room. It was empty, and the balcony door was ajar, the curtains blowing in the evening breeze. He rushed across the room, leaping over the fallen television and through the door out onto the second-story balcony. It was empty. He looked down over the railing at the street and the woods beyond. Nothing. Nor on the balconies to the left or right. The man had seemingly vanished into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Novikov swore to himself. That was not the way he had intended the evening to go. He had underestimated his opponent, something he’d not done in a very long time. The last was an encounter in the Ukraine, where he had been caught unaware and paid for it with a bullet to his torso that had penetrated his chest cavity and collapsed a lung. He absently touched his shirt where it covered the scar that was a reminder to be extra cautious, a motto he had ignored tonight.
He had expected the man to give some resistance, but not to be outright dangerous. As a graduate student, Wilde was meant to be nerdy, weak even. Novikov knew something was off when he had seen the man and his partner enter the U.N. campus today. The way he moved, the way he scanned the street as he walked. He was trained, and obviously deadly.
The usually unnecessary contingencies he planned for prior to every operation turned out to be critical this evening. Once the TV had fallen on him and nearly rendered him unconscious, Novikov scampered for the balcony and jumped. He’d stashed a large pile of leaves below to soften his fall, and that precaution combined with a roll to distributehis weight had saved him a broken leg. He had then moved out on a predetermined course through the forest to the south where a vehicle was stashed on the Bergstrasse, or mountain road, below.
He took the ice pack off his head and turned on his laptop. Novikov was thankful he had been wearing a mask over his head and face. The television falling on him had split his scalp open but the blood hadn’t escaped his mask, meaning there was no DNA evidence left behind. And the student hadn’t seen his face, so that was not a concern.
After connecting to a VPN, he opened his secure email account and checked his inbox. His employers had finally gotten back to him with the name trace, and he opened the file. What he read surprised him and at the same time made him feel foolish. Not only had he underestimated his target, but severely so.
Nathan Wilde was not only a doctoral candidate at Harvard University, but he was also a former Green Beret. He had multiple combat deployments, had received several awards for valor in the field, and had earned two Purple Hearts for wounds sustained in combat. The file continued with military training: Special Forces Combat Diver Qualification Course, Military Freefall School, Special Forces Advanced Reconnaissance, Target Analysis, and Exploitation Techniques Course, Special Forces Intelligence Sergeant Course… The list went on.
This man was not only academically bright, he was downright lethal. Novikov wondered how the hell a man with that kind of background became an academic. It was more likely Wilde would become a contractor like himself. The brochure in the doorjamb should have been a warning, but he had dismissed it as coincidence. He pondered it for a few moments and then let it go. It didn’t matter. He had made a mistake that he wouldn’t repeat. The only question now was what to do next.
He thought it over as he scrolled through known associates. Novikovrecognized a picture of the man who had been with Wilde. The synopsis for him was a great deal shorter, but identified him as Sergeant Benjamin Walton, formerly of the British Special Air Service. Novikov swore again. Had he encountered both of them at the same time in the room it was unlikely he would have survived. Not waiting for the information to come back on these individuals could have cost him not only the mission but his life as well.
Something was not right. It was too big a coincidence that these two former special operators were here, searching for a report that would derail a deal that his clients had orchestrated with the Saudi government. It was more likely they were like him, soldiers for hire, working under the flimsy cover of being students.But to what purpose? Did they know what lay buried in the desert?If so, it was possible they would make a move for it and attempt to claim rights of their own. That was something Novikov could not allow. And if he stopped it, his employers would be very gracious in rewarding him.
He needed to plan his next move. He couldn’t make another attempt against Wilde, not here. He would be on alert. It was better to lie low and wait a few days for the dust to settle. Instead, he would head to Egypt and handle the Metry woman before finding a way to deal with Wilde and his friend.
Thisstudentwas becoming a major annoyance and causing him quite a bit of work over what should have been a simple contract. Novikov promised that if the opportunity presented itself, he would make him pay. Wilde’s death would not be quick like the others he disposed of during this operation. He would make him feel every ounce of pain possible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I’m fine, Wally, really,” Nate said. “I’m just pissed off.”
“Well that may be, but it doesn’t change the anatomy of the human body,” Wally responded. “Now sit still.”
After being attacked in his room, Nate and Wally alerted hotel security, who called thePolizei. Both men gave a statement and Nate gave a weak description of the suspect, and the police left them to their own devices. Wally insisted that Nate bunk in his room as he had two queen beds. He had also insisted on playing medic and checking him out physically.
Nate had agreed to the first request and moved his things over but had been forced to comply with the second. He felt fine, just sore. And as the adrenaline wore off, he felt tired and frustrated. Wally refused to take no for an answer and was addressing several cuts on his face and head.
“Any idea what he hit you with?” Wally asked. Nate’s forearm was already starting to bruise.
