Chapter 35 #2
She couldn’t let it happen. She had to slow them down.
She slammed her hand on the power button for the crane. Watched as the machine jerked to a halt and the main lights flickered and dimmed.
Emilia glared up in the direction of the control room and began climbing down the steps. Even on the monitor, Daisy could see a gun tucked into the back of her jeans.
Bocharov shouted something to her and then dragged Les into the camera frame and pushed him onto his knees. Held an ugly black pistol to the student’s head.
Daisy’s heart lurched into her throat and lodged there making it impossible to breathe.
No.
Konrad Bocharov stared up at the camera and held up five fingers. Then four. Then three. Two.
No.
She slapped the button to restore power, and the room flared to brightness.
Bocharov smiled at her like she was a good little girl. Then he crooked his finger and then held up his five fingers again and slowly made it four.
Her heart thumped.
He wanted her.
No.
But Les…
She lunged for the lock and ran through the changing room without pausing, threw herself onto the top of the viewing platform in time for her to see Bocharov pull the trigger and for Les to fall in a broken heap at his feet.
Something hit her on the side of the head, and she went down to her knees.
Strong fingers gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet. She looked up as she cradled her head. “You fucker.”
Agent Crabtree grinned at her. Tugged her toward the stairs. “Come. There’s someone who wants to meet you.”
“I don’t want to meet him.” She fought a wave of sickness as her head throbbed with pain.
“Well, unfortunately for you, you are not in charge.”
“Why did you betray your country? How much did he pay you, you pig?”
He cuffed her around the head again and lights twirled above her.
“I never betrayed my country. Never.” His eyes were bright with fervor. “I’ve spent years infiltrating your precious systems, years pinpointing your weak spots and sucking up to the assholes until I got myself exactly where I wanted to be.”
She was going to have bruises on her arms and a concussion at this rate, but it was probably the least of her worries.
“I was planning on killing the FBI Director live on social media in her seventh-floor office”—his eyes danced with glee, then dimmed—“but we decided this humiliation would be so much worse. The first female FBI Director and she doesn’t even know she has a traitor in her inner circle?
Na?ve and foolish.” He smiled. “Weak. Having her order the fuel rod installation was the chef’s kiss to the plan—not that she knew anything about it.
Pity I can’t kill the bitch anyway, but I’ll be on my way to a better life.
Somewhere I’ll be hailed as a hero, and she’ll be mocked as a fool. ”
“Is that all this is to you? An ego trip?”
He shoved her forward again.
She lifted her chin and stared him defiantly in the eye, twisting so he didn’t get a good view of her back or the gun she had tucked into her pants. “Wherever you are, you will always be looking over your shoulder and waiting for the death that you know is coming your way, you little creep.”
He went to strike her again, but Konrad Bocharov shoved him aside. “Check the perimeter. Tell Katya to get into position.”
Crabtree stomped off.
Katya must be the other woman she’d seen, wearing the suit. Pretending to be an FBI Agent, Daisy realized suddenly.
Escorting the fuel rods?
Had the professor been involved? Crabtree said they’d faked Ursula Rhodes’ voice to fool the other people involved. None of them were likely to question the veracity of the FBI Director when she ordered them to move up the install date of the fuel rods.
Bocharov’s eyes raked over her, and even though she itched to draw her weapon she knew this wasn’t the right time. She wouldn’t be fast enough, and he would shoot her.
She held her tongue as he looked his fill, his expression twisted in distaste.
“My daughter told me you were pretty”—his cold blue eyes held contempt now—“I don’t see it. But, then, I have never been attracted to blondes.”
“I’ve never been attracted to evil, bald men, so we’re even.” She blinked as the rest of his words registered. “Your daughter?”
He held his hand out to indicate Emilia as she climbed back into the crane seat with a mocking bow. “My beautiful and brilliant daughter, Emilia.”
Emilia Osbourne was Konrad Bocharov’s daughter?
Which meant they’d been setting this up for a very long time—probably since Jordan had infiltrated Bocharov’s organization and sent him running ten years ago.
It was pure bad luck Daisy was here too—or maybe it was fate.
Maybe this had been her destiny all along—the Universe’s cruel little joke of doomed love to complete its latest tragedy.
She realized something. “Amed Hussein had nothing to do with any of this, did he?” She and the FBI had fallen for the planted evidence, hook, line and sinker.
Bocharov gave a tight smile. “At least your racist profiling means he may survive today’s events.”
Suggesting they wouldn’t. “He wasn’t profiled. You set him up.”
The backhand sent her reeling.
She wanted to berate him for killing Ron and Alma Paget, but knew he wouldn’t care.
“Give me your phone.”
She hesitated but when he raised his hand to strike her once more, she pulled it quickly out of her front pocket and handed it over. She didn’t want him searching her. Her hand rested on her hip and inched toward her gun.
She froze when he held her cell to her face to unlock it and started reading her messages.
She tried to remember the last thing she’d texted Jordan—when she’d apologized for being an ass and he’d asked if she was okay.
There was nothing compromising on her cell, but the Russian was bound to find things he could use against her if he looked hard enough.
Her father would go scorched earth on this man, assuming Jordan didn’t kill him first. She hated that. Hated knowing how her dad’s newfound happiness might be destroyed because of her death and that Jordan would once again suffer.
Bocharov started texting, and she froze for a moment wondering what he’d write, presumably to Jordan. Something twisted and nasty that would hurt him. Then she remembered Jordan could see what was happening and would know it wasn’t her. She glanced at the camera in a silent apology.
What choice had she had?
She looked at Les’s crumpled body and felt regret she hadn’t moved faster, but Bocharov would probably have pulled the trigger anyway. And he wouldn’t have stopped there. He’d have pulled out each and every innocent and executed them until she’d unlocked that door.
Jordan would be so angry with her. Her eyes smarted with useless tears, and she sucked back the emotions that threatened.
“Get over there with the others.”
“What’s the plan? Blow up the reactor?”
He leaned so close she could feel his breath hit her cheek. “The plan is that you keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told, or I’ll put the bullet I saved for you on Saturday night into your ugly, weak skull today.”
Her eyes shot to Les’s body and back to Bocharov’s, and she stumbled backwards away from him until she sat off to one side of Mira and Roger on the hard concrete floor.
Mira was quietly weeping against Roger’s chest.
Roger sent her a worried look. At least he didn’t seem pissed with her anymore. For what that was worth.
Her heart tripped a beat as Emilia started the crane and began loading the next rod assembly.
Daisy stared around the building and realized that someone had removed all the control rods. If the terrorists managed to start the reactor, there would be no way to stop it.