The Midnight Caller (Jack Widow Book 6) Page 18

  He searched the rest of the room and found the kit and in it the smelling salts.

  He cracked the bottle open and shoved it under the nose of the man in charge of this group.

  A loud gasp, followed by violent wrenching and coughing, erupted from the guy. His eyes darted open and a look of utter confusion spilled across his face, which lasted for a whole minute. Then realization hit him.

  He sat up.

  “Where is she?”

  The man in black told him.

  “There was a guy. Some guy came in. He took us all down.”

  “Forget about that. I know all of it.”

  “Where are they?”

  “At her handler’s office.”

  The leader looked up at the man in black and did not know him.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m the one to set you straight. Now wake up the others. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  “I’ll make this up. We’ll make it up.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll have your chance. Now wake them up.”

  The man in black handed the rest of the smelling salts bottle to him. The guy took it and stood up, wobbly.

  The man in black asked, “Where are your guns? Did he take them?”

  The leader nodded.

  “You got backups?”

  “There are MP5s under the bed.”

  The man in black bent down and pulled out a large carry-on case. He unzipped it and found a stack of silenced MP5s. Right off the bat he was embarrassed that they had them stacked inside the case with nothing holding them down. They looked used and worn, and not very well maintained.

  How unprofessional, he thought.

  It took about twenty minutes to get the men all awake and on their feet and standing up straight.

  The man in black messaged the Listener, “They’re ready.”

  A moment later, the Listener messaged back with only an address and the name of a law firm. Then one more line of text. It read, “Take the girl alive. No witnesses.”

  CHAPTER 42

  THE INSIDE OF THE LOBBY was too cold for the weather outside the building, in Widow’s opinion, but lobbies in emotionless steel office parks were like that in a lot of cities. They were faceless and callous and unremarkable. The management liked to keep them cold so the workers did not fall asleep. Office park management was like any other corporate management; it was all about productivity.

  Suddenly, Widow did not miss having a job.

  Eva left him in a tight corner, near a generic plant and a small coffee table, to enjoy his coffee alone. She went to the restroom down the hall. So far, he had not enjoyed his coffee at all because it came in a little paper cup and the damn thing was four bucks. That was more expensive than the Tall at Starbucks, which was the standard for overpriced coffee.

  Whatever, he thought and he took a swig. Might as well drink it before it gets cold.

  Eva was gone for more than five minutes. He’d nearly finished the coffee before she finally returned.

  She stopped at the same café and bought a doughnut, which was a far cry from her previous statement of not being hungry. Apparently, she had been starving because she scarfed the entire thing by the time she sat down.

  Widow smiled and asked, “Hungry?”

  She laughed and smiled at him, mouth open. He saw nothing but white powdered sugar and her teeth.

  “Was that a doughnut?”

  “Yeah, a powdered sugar doughnut.”

  “That’s a lot of sugar?” he asked.

  She shrugged and smiled so wide that powder was tumbling out of her mouth.

  He reached over and handed her the napkin that he had been given.

  “Here.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She took it and wiped her mouth.

  Widow said nothing.

  Eva finished chewing and swallowing, but kept the napkin handy. Then she asked, “So, Jack Widow, you married?”

  “No way.”

  She made an audible, “Hmm.” And a gesture like she was trying to think or make a life decision.

  “What?”

  “Why did you answer like that?”

  “Like what?”

  She said, “No way.” Only she said it theatrically like she was doing a dramatic reenactment of the whole thing. Then she reached across and poked him in the abdomen.

  Widow did not wonder if she was flirting with him. That was obvious, even to a one-tracked mind that he considered himself to be. What he wondered was if she was doing it on purpose or if it was Russian seductress training.

  He stayed quiet for a moment, and then he said, “I didn’t mean it in a negative way about marriage. It was just a reaction.”

  “So have you ever been married?”

  Widow shook his head.

  “Me neither.”

  They fell silent for a moment. Widow finished his coffee. He thought about a refill, but saw a sign that said: “No Refills. Or Refunds.”

  He was not going to shill out another four bucks for another little coffee that was not very good to begin with.

  Just then a woman a little older than Widow walked in. She wore a sweater that had a Russian university written on it, one that Widow could not pronounce because it was not in English. He knew it was a university sweater by the typical design. Although, he supposed he could have been wrong. The sweater was red with gold piping and a single stripe.

  The woman had thick, long hair, dark with thin gray streaks. It was pulled back. She had a dark complexion. No jewelry. No rings. No necklaces. The only piece of jewelry was an expensive-looking watch with a plain black leather band and silver face that might have been real silver.

  She looked straight at Eva and then right at Widow and waved them to come over.

  Eva said, “Come on. That’s her.”

  Widow stood up after Eva and stayed several feet behind to throw his coffee cup away. He caught up to them after the women hugged like old friends.

  They spoke to each other in Russian, something that Widow did not catch on to, nor would he have understood anyway.

  Then Eva turned back to Widow and introduced him. She introduced the lawyer as Mina Putin, and then she insisted that there was no relation to the president of Russia.

  Widow did not doubt her claims, nor did he rule out that she was lying either. Putin was a common surname in Russia.

  After a quick moment of shaking hands and smiling, Putin asked them to follow her up to her office. Before they could go to where the elevators were, Widow stopped dead in his tracks.

  Eva asked, “Widow, what’s wrong?”

  He glanced at her and then at a large plastic doorframe that was hooked up to wires that vanished into the guard desk. It was set up between them and the elevators that they had to walk through in order to get there.

  He stepped up and leaned in to her and whispered, “Metal detector.”

  “Oh. Step over there. One second, Mina.”

  Widow stepped back to the lobby and Eva followed. Then Eva passed him and headed back toward the bathroom, out of the line of sight of the guard at the desk. She surreptitiously drew the Maxim 9 out of her jeans and slipped it to him.

  She said, “Take them to the bathroom and hide them behind a toilet tank. Then come up and meet us on floor six. It’s the last office down the hall.”

  Widow nodded and left her and stepped into the bathroom to hide the weapons as instructed, which reminded him that he was taking orders from Eva and not questioning them.

  CHAPTER 43

  THE MAN IN BLACK stepped off his motorcycle, which was in the parking garage underneath the Russian lawyer’s office park, alongside a white panel van. The doors to the panel van opened and the four mercenaries working for Farmer hopped out. They were armed with four MP5SDs. They were cocked and locked and ready to go. A sight that the man in black was glad to see.

  Even though that might have all been a little overkill. They had all been defeated by one man, so he could forgive their eagerness for red
emption.

  The leader of the mercs nodded at the man in black and he led them toward a set of elevators. They almost made it to the elevators when a voice from down a few car spaces called out, “Hey. Who are you guys?”

  The man in black turned to see a young security guard walking toward them. He had a flashlight in one hand. It was switched off and the man in black wondered why he was even holding it. He must have intended to use it as a club, if need be.

  The man in black said nothing. He did not try to talk their way past him. He simply reached in his coat and drew his SIG Sauer P220, not silenced, and he took aim, slowly and carefully.

  The guard stopped and stared on.

  “Wait! Wait!” he called out.

  The man in black paused, closed one eye, and aimed down the sights. He wondered if he could still make a shot from that distance.

  The young security guard dropped his flashlight and turned and ran, his boots stomping down hard, echoing in the underground garage.

  The man in black waited until the last second and squeezed the trigger. One shot.

  The bullet missed the bull’s-eye, but not his target. He had aimed for center mass, an easier target from that distance with a handgun, but he had hit dead on the back of the guard’s head. He knew that because a red mist erupted and brain and skull fragments exploded out from the other side. The bullet went clean through.

  Not a bad shot, he thought, even with mediocre odds.

  He pulled the gun back, wisps of smoke coiled out of the barrel. He paused for it to clear and holstered the weapon.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Farmer’s mercenaries followed him to the elevator. He saw the security camera above the elevator. It was the only one.

  He shrugged at it. It was no concern. He figured that the building was probably empty except for a minimal staff and the targets.

  He pressed the button to call the elevator and waited.

  After the bell dinged and the elevator doors opened and they all stepped on, he said, “Shoot to kill. Everyone but the girl. We need her back. Got it?”

  Farmer’s mercenaries all verbally acknowledged the order and the man in black studied a sign behind a plastic panel with a list of all the offices in the building. He found the Russian lawyer’s name and pressed the button for the sixth floor.

  The doors shut.

  CHAPTER 44

  WIDOW FINISHED hiding the weapons and stopped to use the bathroom, since he was already in there. Always take advantage of any situation, he thought.

  He washed his hands and dried them and headed back to the door. He stepped out of the men’s room and turned the corner back to the lobby. As he made eye contact with the guard behind the front desk, they both paused a beat because they heard a loud BOOM! that echoed from somewhere in the building.

  Widow asked, “What the hell was that?”

  The guard shrugged and said, “Car backfiring. There’s a parking garage below us.”

  Widow nodded and stepped up to the desk.

  “I’m going through now.”

  The guard looked at him cockeyed and said, “Okay. Go through. They’re on six.”

  Widow nodded, stepped through the metal detector. It did not buzz.

  He walked over to the elevator and heard the motors humming as one of the elevators ascended the floors.

  He clicked the call button and waited for the next one.

  CHAPTER 45

  EVA REMAINED STANDING in Putin’s office, which she had been in a dozen times before. Usually she sat across from her at the desk, without batting an eye. But this time she chose to stand because there was a good chance that Putin kept a small silenced SR1MP pistol in her top desk drawer. The SR1MP was a lightweight pistol popular with some Russian forces. It was good for covert operators because of its size and power.

  Eva started to tell her what had happened, but Putin stopped her with a hand up.

  She said, “Eva. What have you done?”

  Eva stayed quiet and Putin sat, alone.

  “Yesterday, your father’s submarine went dark and has not been heard from since. You have vanished for two days. I have tried to call you. I’m getting distressing questions from Moscow. What the hell have you done?”

  Eva said, “I’m sorry. I had to help my father.”

  “What’s happened?”

  Before Eva could speak or explain, the door to the office slammed open like it had been kicked in by a SWAT team. Eva assumed it was Widow. She turned and Putin stood up, fast.

  “What is this!” she asked.

  Five men came pouring into the office. They were armed with MP5SDs.

  At the same time, like they were in sync, both women felt surprise and then terror. It was not the men with guns that scared Putin. For her, it was the fact that the MP5SDs were silenced. She had been in the US for twenty years, working successfully as both a lawyer and as a spy for the Russian government. She had been trained, long ago. But one lesson that she knew for sure was that men with submachine guns and suppressors did not have the best intentions. The local police did not use suppressors. Neither did the FBI or any other law enforcement agency that she was aware of. Only two types of people would have them in this country: soldiers and mercenaries. And soldiers would not be barging into her office.

  The reason why Eva was terrified was not the guns or the suppressors. What terrified her was that she recognized the four men who had kidnapped her.

  The man in black stepped forward and spoke.

  He was a short man, not tiny, but for the type of men that she normally found herself in the company of, he was short. Maybe he was five foot eight, but he looked taller because he wore boots with significant heels. He wore all black, which made her think that he was some kind of biker, only missing a helmet.

  He had graying hair with black woven in. It was thick and curly. He was white, but there was something else there. Maybe Latin. Maybe some kind of Native American, but whatever it was made up a small percentage of his ethnicity.

  Even though the man in black was the shortest of the five, he looked amazingly strong. His chest was wide, but not overdone. It was like a cinder block, not a barrel.

  Eva had never seen him before. But she recognized that he was some sort of leader here. It was not Farmer. There was another man in charge. Right off, she recognized that he was not the brains. He could not have been. He came off more as a weapon than a leader.

  The man in black said, “Ms. Karpov. Ms. Putin. It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Ladies, please sit.”

  The women glanced at each other and sat uncomfortably.

  Putin asked, “Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?”

  “Ms. Karpov, you’ve caused us quite a bit of grief. I mean I’ve been chasing after you all damn night.”

  Eva said nothing.

  The man in black looked at her and she sat down. He looked at her fingertips. They rested on her lap. They trembled, which made him smile. Then he looked up at her arms; he noticed her muscular build. Then he traced the outline of her breasts inside her shirt.

  She noticed and cringed, which was visible to everyone in the room. But the man in black did not comment on it. He did not falter from his staring.

  Then he moved up to her neck. He stared at it. He savored the hint of veins and crinkles and flesh.

  The man in black asked, “Where’s your friend?”

  Eva said, “What friend?”

  The man in black smiled. He reached into his jacket and drew the SIG Sauer P220 out. He held it down by his side, one-handed. More as a threat than anything else. It was there to say, “I’m not going to ask twice.” But he did.

  He asked, “Where’s your friend? The big guy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Just then, Putin bolted up from her seat. Back straight. Shoulders apart. It turned out that she did have a gun under her desk, only it had not been in the top drawer. It must have a hidden compartment, under the top, just above her lap. And i
t was not the SR1MP pistol. It was a Glock 17, unsilenced. Which surprised Eva.

  Time slowed down. Eva reacted as she had been trained to do. She leapt off her seat and ducked down in the back corner. There were no good options for cover in this situation. The office had one way in and one way out and the way out was blocked by the five armed enemies.

  Eva was not sure if Putin was a good shot or not. She did not know how much training Putin had had with the Glock 17. All that did not really matter much because the man in black was only seven or eight feet away, ten at the most. And even if Putin missed, she was bound to hit one of them.

  It turned out not to matter how much training Putin had with a firearm. It did not even matter how good she was, because the man in black was better.

  Before Putin’s Glock 17’s firing line could near her target, he had raised his P220 like an experienced gunslinger from out of the pages of an old western novel. He did not fully extend his arm like some kind of amateur.

  In a gun duel between two cowboys, squaring off in the middle of town at high noon, the first mistake he always noticed in movies was the actors extended their arms all the way out. This was a mistake.

  The proper way to be quicker, to be deadlier, was to practice firing from the hip. Which the man in black had done, a lot.

  He drew from the hip and squeezed the trigger. Eva had missed that because she was staring at Putin, her friend.

  The room filled and echoed and boomed with the sounds of dual gunshots.

  The first was from the man in black’s P220. The second one was from Putin’s Glock.

  Next two things happened. The bullet from the P220 blasted through the air and blew a hole the size of a quarter straight through Putin’s forehead. Red mist sprayed out behind her and splashed on the window and blinds with thick redness. She fell back into her seat and was dead. Eyes open, staring up and lifeless.

  The man in black was faster than her. But Putin had managed to squeeze off one shot. Only she did not hit the man in black, as she had hoped. Instead one of the other guys who came with him had been hit square in the side of his neck. He fell back against one of his friends and clung to life. He wrenched his fingers on his friend’s coat and pulled at it, taking the friend down to the ground with him.