Chapter Forty-Three
In which Andrey is ready to set the world on fire.
Andrey…
There’s no time for subtlety. My Iris could be anywhere.
Kolya accesses the plans for the strip mall from the construction proposal, pulling them up on his laptop.
We’re going to land right on top.
"There's three ways in. Two doors, south and north sides, and a hatch in the middle that leads to the HVAC system."
I scan the surrounding area as the helicopter swoops toward the building. Its parking lot and those for the few nearby buildings are empty. The streets are free of cars.
"Weapons up," I speak into my headset. "Smoke bombs. Flashbangs, if necessary. Do not shoot unless you have a clear target of the hostiles. Iris and Rose might still be here. We will not risk their safety."
Karolina, my pilot, lands the craft gently. The skids hit the roof with more of a thud than a shudder. Bits of the gravel surface spray up, pelting us as we all jump out. I race for the door on the south side. Nikandr’s crew head to the north exit. Trofim's right behind me.
"Please, boss. Let me be in front," he pants. "This isn't safe. Please."
"Shut the fuck up, or I'm taking your other kidney."
The lock on the door is good, reinforced. Two shots blast it loose. I kick it open and race down the stairs.
The upper level of the mall is dark, cluttered with boxes, abandoned office supplies, and broken chairs from tenants long gone. There’s a sound of movement from the first floor as we find the next set of stairs leading down.
Gunshots ricochet off the stairwell, forcing us back. They’re from a handgun, not a semi-automatic. I count down the shots and at zero leap over the railing to land in front of a stunned security guard. I slam my gunstock into his face and he crumbles like wet tissue paper, dropping to his knees.
Weak.
Kicking him out of the way, I see two figures dressed like orderlies racing down the hall. They pull their guns with a precision that tells me they are the professionals.
Koyla talks in my headset. "I opened the main hatch and ran my camera wire down. There's no one behind those two in the scrubs. I see five people hiding in the next office."
He rattles off something to Nikandr but my focus is on the men. One catches a glimpse of me and lifts his arm to fire. He's quick but his center mass is open, giving me an easy shot through his heart.
Two bullets streak past me as I pull back. The other orderly is firing, his bullets burrowing into the concrete next to my head. Trofim takes the opening to get in a precisely placed head shot.
The orderly crumples like a sack of meat.
"We should probably not kill any more people until we talk to them," he says.
"Agreed."
Kolya is talking again. He reminds me of the five hiding in the office, that we don’t know if they are armed.
There's commotion down the hall. Shouting. Gunfire. A muffled thud that tells me Nikandr's team has set off a flashbang grenade. The ceiling shakes, dust drifts down, and screams come from within the office. The door's cheap wood splinters as we kick it open.
These people had their hands on my Iris. A man in a stained doctor's coat, who looks like he's pissing himself, an extremely muscular looking nurse, and three other women in scrubs cowering behind her.
"Put your fucking hands up!" I roar.
The nurse looks at me. Eyes cold, glittering black, like a bull's. She's slow to raise her hands. Trofim makes a quick weapons check. They're all unarmed, but almost hidden behind the nurse is a medical chest with a row of gleaming scalpels.
Clever.
I press my gun to the forehead of the terrified-looking man first. "Where is Iris Morozova and her sister Rose? Do not fucking lie to me. I know they've been here."
"I... They're just…" he's starting to babble, and I backhand him, knocking him against the wall.
"My first shot will be in your left knee," I say conversationally. "The second bullet will go into your right. You will crawl for the rest of your short life. Where the fuck are they?"
I can hear a chorus of weeping coming down the hall. The wails of frightened girls. Nikandr skids to a stop in front of the door, his mouth tight with disgust.
"It's a baby factory, Andrey," he says. "They were all kidnapped, bred. They sell the babies and impregnate the girls again."
Iris is already pregnant.
I shoot the doctor in the knee. His screams drown out those of the others. "I'm losing patience."
"They were here, but they were sent out. They were... They were taken out," he sobs. "Sent to new facilities."
I backhand him with the gun. Two teeth fly out.
"WHERE?"
One of the other nurses speaks up, high and terrified. "Please don't kill me, I'll tell you. The Patroness sent them. She wanted them to be separated. The pregnant one is going to the facility in Mexico. They're probably at the airstrip now."
The burly nurse growls at her.
"What about Rose?" Nikandr snaps.
"They're taking her to Ohio," she sobs. "They left fifteen minutes ago."
I shoot the doctor in the face.
"Give us the locations." I know I don't sound human anymore. I’m not human anymore.
"I only know one of them," she sobs. "The- the Ohio one. I don’t know where the one in Mexico is.”
The big nurse is watching me. Her smile is small and cruel.
"You know. I can tell," I say to her. "Which femur do you want me to break first?"
"Fuck you."
I carry a Magnum Research BFR. It shoots the largest caliber bullet of any handgun. The first shot shatters her thigh. Screaming, loud and hoarse, she collapses, clutching her leg.
"Give me the location of the airfield."
"I know where the airfield is!" One of the other nurses screeches. "I can tell you, they only left five, maybe ten minutes ago! You can still catch them." She's sobbing, terrified, mascara running down her face.
Hauling the woman up by the back of her scrubs, I drag her from the room. "Give me the directions."
After I get what I need, I shove her towards the phone on the desk. "Contact the pilot. Tell him to wait. Say you're sending over another girl for transport. If you start crying, or give them any reason to think there’s a problem, I will carve you down to the bone."
She's almost incoherent with fear. Nikandr touches my shoulder. "Pull it back, brother. She has to be able to talk."
I turn to my men, "Vanya, to me." He's been with me a long time, almost as long as Trofim.
"Lock this place down, no calls out. I do not want those motherfuckers to get any warning.
Make sure any incoming callers are assured that it's business as usual and then trace them.
" He nods, grimly silent, and strides away to give orders.
"Trofim, you're taking over. Sweep the building twice, have Kolya wipe the camera footage of our arrival and loop the feed."
"Understood," he nods. "There are forty girls here, none are injured."
"Good." I jerk my head at the woman who is still sobbing. "Calm her down so she can call."
Putting his hands gently on the hysterical woman's shoulders he pats her soothingly. "Let's make that call. It'll be all right. You're doing the right thing,” I hear him say as I head to the roof, with Nikandr and our team following.
The helicopter's rotors are still turning. We're racing for the cabin when a bullet pings off the glass, then another hits the body of the chopper. My pilot looks at me, frantic.
I see the shooter by the open hatch, an unconscious Kolya next to him.
I growl.
More bullets hit the helicopter, a staccato spray of holes across the body. They hit the engine, gas spraying out like a cut artery.
Dropping to the ground, I sight the shooter hastily shoving in a new ammo clip. My bullet catches him in the throat. He falls back, his gun flying up, still firing until it drops next to him.
Nikandr sprints toward Kolya, checking his pulse. "He's still alive!"
My pilot rapidly shuts the chopper down. "Sorry, boss," Karolina says, "they hit everything. Gas line, oil."
"Fuck!" I shout to the sky, and we race back down the stairs. "Plan B," I tell Trofim. "We need vehicles. What's here?"
He’s calmed the sobbing nurse down enough that she tells us, "Dr. Crawford's jeep is here. And one of the vans, I think, in the back.”
Five precious minutes are wasted searching for keys, then on the way out we pass by clusters of pale, frightened girls. Some are heavily pregnant. Some of the girls have only a small bump.
Is that what Iris looks like right now? A gentle swell on her abdomen that I hadn't seen, or was it more prominent, and I was just too self-absorbed to notice?
"Twenty-five fucking minutes to the airfield," I mutter, fists clenched, as my brother and I climb into the Jeep with every man who will fit.
"We'll make it in fifteen," Nikandr promises, slamming on the gas. The van with the rest of our crew falls behind, its engine not as strong as the Jeep’s.
Nikandr takes the tighter turns with only two wheels touching the pavement.
I follow the map on my phone, "Five minutes.” Our men check their weapons.
"Same instructions here," I say. "Be cautious of where you shoot.
Take down a hostile only if you're certain Iris and Rose are clear.
Grigor, you're the best shot. Can you put a couple of holes into the gas tanks without blowing up the plane? "
"There's two sections in the engine housing that would work better," he nods.
"Do it."
Nikandr slows down. In the dark, with the high beams on, it will be hard for anyone to tell who’s in the Jeep. The van catches up with us as we go through the chain-link gate.
The plane is already on the runway. A scowling man is waiting in the door. As we pull up to the jet stairs, he stalks down to us. "What's the fucking delay?" He snaps. "I had orders to get the cargo to Mexico City as fast as possible."
The second our doors open, he knows we're not from the facility, and pulls his gun. I shoot it out of his hand. His blood splatters the tarmac.
The engine suddenly whines to a higher pitch. The pilot’s trying to take off, probably panicking. I am up the jet stairs and in before the plane can move.
A man is trying to close the door to the cockpit. I shoot him in the face and squeeze inside, shoving the smoking muzzle of my gun against the pilot's head.
The metal is hot and his flesh sizzles. He winces. I press harder.
"Shut the engines down. Now."
"You can't fuck with these people," he stammers. "Do you want money? They might give you money, but you cannot fuck with them. You have no idea who you're dealing with." His face is pale and sweaty, he doesn’t move an inch, frozen with my gun pressed against his forehead.
Nikandr pushes into the cockpit, angling his broad shoulders to get through the narrow door.
"Iris is here." His mouth is tight, he looks stricken. “You need to go back to her now. Go."