Chapter 36
When Jordan watched Daisy be dragged onto the reactor floor by that weasel Crabtree, everything inside him went calm.
Jordan knew that Echo Team and the snipers would be here any moment and moving into position.
“We can’t under any circumstances let them get that reactor running.”
“If we do that, they’re going to take the hostages one-by-one and shoot them until we do exactly what they want, the same way they manipulated Daisy. I’d throw everyone in the fire to save Mal.”
“Gee, thanks,” Cisco muttered.
“I’d save you next.”
A dimple formed in her cheek. “I can live with that.”
Jordan was too sick with worry to joke about this shit.
“There’s a woman in the control room now.” Cisco pointed.
He stared closer at the screen. Cisco had activated and accessed all the cameras inside the facility. She enlarged it.
“It’s Charlie—Jenna Stork’s lover. The same woman I met in Mexico.” He frowned. “I really don’t think she recognized me in Mexico. Maybe she was meeting with Bocharov or was acting as his lookout.”
“That rifle she’s carrying is a Dragonov sniper rifle. It may be the same one that killed Jenna Stork in DC last night.”
“We’re going to need a sniper up on that building over there.” Alex nodded to a nearby structure. “In fact, we’re going to need several snipers to take out as many terrorists as possible simultaneously.”
Jordan called Novak with a SitRep. “We need snipers on the roof. How long until you can get everyone into position?”
The answer felt like forever.
“We need them sooner than that.”
The camera angle meant he couldn’t see Daisy anymore, and it drove him crazy. He could see Bocharov though, scrolling through Daisy’s phone. “We can’t be sure how many terrorists there are. I have four known, but maybe some of the others are dirty too…?”
Alex nodded. “Ah, fuck. There goes the last fuel rod into the core.”
Jordan’s stomach bottomed out, then his personal cell vibrated in his pocket. He saw that “Daisy” had texted him.
The FBI Director said you are cleared to come into the facility. If you are close by, come to Reactor No. 3. Hurry. The others are being mean to me.
Jordan pulled a face as he climbed to his feet. It was the most un-Daisy-like message he’d ever read, but there was nothing for it.
Be right there, babe. Don’t take any shit from those losers.
They couldn’t wait for Gold Team any longer. They’d run out of time. It was Jordan who Bocharov wanted anyway.
“You guys do whatever it takes to get inside that control room before they crank up the core.”
“What are you gonna do?” Cisco asked.
“Do my best to slow them down. Save the woman I love and have a long overdue conversation with the sonofabitch who murdered my family.”
Jordan strode toward the open door of the reactor as if he were some clueless prick. He’d seen Konrad set the charges on the doors but was careful not to look at them as Agent Crabtree stepped from behind the semi and indicated he stand and frisked him for weapons.
“What the fuck, Crabtree? This some sort of joke? Or have you lost your tiny mind?”
“You fucking guys. Always strutting around and thinking you’re better than everyone else.”
“We are better than everyone else.”
“Hah. Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing.” Crabtree relieved him of his favorite Springfield Custom Professional 1911-A1 and the Glock-23 he wore in his ankle holster. Jordan bit down on the desire to crush the man’s skull under his boot.
It’d keep.
“What was that you said to me earlier, Krychek? You’d kill me if anything happened to Daisy?” The man sniggered, but the look in his eyes was pure contempt. “Well, something happened, but it looks like you missed your chance, chump.”
Jordan needed to act surprised and outraged, and it wasn’t hard. “What have you done to her, you sonofabitch?” He glared at the other man until Crabtree’s smile faded. “What’s going on? Where’s Daisy?”
“Inside.” Crabtree’s eyes skittered around the grass and security fencing belatedly looking for backup. “We have a surprise for you.”
Jordan headed inside and allowed his eyes to take a few seconds to adjust to the lights and shadows.
His open mouth revealed his shock and horror at the people lying dead on the ground.
Even though he knew Daisy was alive, relief hit him when he spotted her sitting near the base of the viewing platform looking relatively unharmed.
Then he saw Konrad Bocharov and let the fury take over. His hand went automatically for his weapon, but it wasn’t there.
He roared like an animal as he rushed at Bocharov and allowed the Russian to hit him so that he fell dazed to the concrete floor. He was expecting the boot to the gut, but it didn’t make it any less painful.
“Don’t anyone interfere. This bastard is mine,” the familiar guttural voice warned.
“Stop. Stop!” Daisy stood and Bocharov looked toward her and drew his gun and pointed it at her.
Hell, no.
Jordan swiped the asshole’s legs from under him and watched Konrad land with the grace of a beached whale, the gun skittering out of his grip and across the floor.
Emilia Osbourne looked toward them with a frown before she started climbing down the ladder with a gun in her hand.
Jordan got to his feet and kicked Bocharov in the kidneys.
“That’s for my baba,” He kicked him again, “and that’s for my grandfather who could barely get out of his chair.
” He kicked him again, the tough guy sprawling across the floor, his wig falling askew.
“That was for my mother and my beautiful sister.”
Jordan let Konrad get to his feet and charge him. At the last moment, he darted aside and stuck out his foot, sending Bocharov crashing to the ground once more. “That was for the cops you slaughtered.”
Konrad stood again and rushed at him in unseeing rage.
Jordan sucker punched him in the face. “That was for Ana, you sick sonofabitch.”
A gunshot echoed through the space, and Jordan stilled as a bullet flew close enough to raise the hair on his arms.
“Enough! Get on the floor. Get on the floor!” Emilia screamed while Crabtree walked towards them looking uncertain.
Despite Bocharov’s fearsome reputation, it hadn’t been a fair fight.
Jordan had spent the past decade training for this moment, and Bocharov was a lazy fucker who relied on his violent and ruthless reputation to intimidate those around him.
The fact Jordan was surrounded by armed terrorists did make it a little more challenging.
If Daisy hadn’t been caught in the crossfire with the fate of a nuclear reactor at stake, he would have enjoyed himself.
Jordan slowly got down on his knees as Konrad staggered to his feet, wiping at the blood pouring from his nose. The other man scooped down to pick up his pistol, clearly in pain.
Not enough pain.
“I should have killed you years ago with your pathetic family, but it was so much more fun knowing I’d broken you.”
Jordan raised his chin. “You didn’t break me, asshole. You murdered defenseless innocents and thought it made you a big man. And then you ran back to Moscow like the coward you really are.”
The snipers hadn’t had enough time to get into position yet. He needed to stall.
“I bet you had to beg your bosses to let you live. Did they beat the snot out of you, Konrad? Did they make you grovel and prove yourself all over again?”
Konrad’s brows lowered over his beady eyes.
“Just kill him, Papa. He insults you.”
This from Emilia Osbourne—and suddenly everything made more sense.
“Shit. She’s your kid?” Jordan asked. Come on, guys.
Where the hell were they? He raised his face to the roof and had to force himself not to react.
“I should have known from the evil glint in her eyes. Where’s the mother?
Oh, wait. Was she the same woman you kept as a mistress or someone different? ”
“What’s he talking about, Papa?”
“There has only ever been one woman for me, Emilia. Your mother has my heart. But sometimes it was necessary to create the illusion of one thing to hide the reality of another.”
“You banged her anyway, am I right? Just to keep up the illusion.”
“Do svidaniya, motherfucker.” Bocharov sneered down at him. “And know that your stupid little blonde cunt will die a slow and agonizing death, every second of which she’ll blame you for her pain and suffering.”
Jordan braced himself as Konrad drew back his foot as if he was about to play soccer with his head.