42. Chapter 42
Chapter forty-two
Day 17 Petropavlovsk, Russia
The black metallic walls of the machine carrying her to God knew where vibrated against Eloise’s back, rattling the chair beneath her and numbing her bum. While the vibrations were uncomfortable to her, they seemed to calm Muffy. Her angel had fallen asleep as soon as the helicopter lifted off. Comforted by the warm, heavy weight pressed against her chest, Eloise lowered the zipper on her coat so Muffy could breathe fresh air. Or at least as fresh as air could get on this eyesore of a helicopter.
Huddled in her metal seat, she fiddled with her lipstick tube while she surreptitiously studied the hard-faced men sitting alongside her.
They sounded like Americans, but with an unusual cadence to their speech. And this chopper—or whatever the bloody hell it was—didn’t look American at all. It didn’t look like anything she’d seen before. Fuck, the exterior of the craft was downright daft. What with the way its wings pointed straight up, and its oblong body squatted on the ground. It looked like a mechanical cross between a bird and a dragonfly. Kinda like those Transformers cartoons she’d loved as a kid.
She rolled the red tube between her fingers again, and wistfully daydreamed about driving the concealed syringe into the asshole who called the shots among these lethal men. Sure, the ratbag had shown her kindness. He’d let her change into her trackies and gave her some cash and her jewelry from the safe. But none of that made up for what he’d taken from her. And she wasn’t talking about Grigory.
The fucker had ruined everything. He'd set her business back by years.
With a pained sigh, she settled back against the wall of her vibrating prison. She’d simply have to adapt. Pivot. Hadn’t she built her business from the ground up once already? And with nothing but brains and guile? Why, yes, she had. At least this time, she had a hefty bank account, a warehouse full of the most sought-after weapons on the black market, and a robust client list—even if they didn’t know they were her clients.
But first things first. She needed to escape this fucking helicopter—or whatever it was.
She was almost certain these bastards no longer intended to let her go. Not after that conversation between the black-haired and brown-haired assholes last time they’d landed and then took off again.
The RPG blast had left her in a dire predicament. Sure, she’d expected Grigory to die. But not so soon. She’d planned to embrace and inject her former partner just before she stepped off the aircraft. She’d be gone by the time the poison took effect. If she couldn’t get close to him, at least she’d be well hidden and out of danger by the time Grigory implicated her in their business venture.
She’d been lucky her former partner hadn’t admitted she was the brains of the operation during his drugged rambling. But now that he was out of the picture, the soldiers surrounding her had no one to interrogate—except her. As the brown-haired soldier had stressed.
So, no, they wouldn’t let her go. Not now.
Once they interrogated her and discovered she was the brains behind the testing and deaths in Karaveht, and the meltdown of their special forces team… She shuddered. Her being a woman wouldn’t save her, that was for sure. If they allowed her to live, she’d do so in some dank prison, never again to see the light of day.
Her heart rate escalated. So did her breathing. She suppressed another shudder. She had to escape this aircraft. That’s all there was to it.
They’d been in the air for at least two hours when the chopper suddenly slowed and dropped. It continued dropping. Eloise tensed, recognizing the subtle rocking as the craft settled on the ground.
Had they arrived at the soldiers’ base? The vibrations and roar of the engine subsided. Muffy stirred in her pup pack. Several men rose to their feet as their leader pulled back the cargo door. Eloise stared out the open door. Snow fell in a soft, lazy veil, illuminating the night. No artificial lights surrounded them. No shouts or hails. They must not be at the soldiers’ base.
She relaxed. There was still time to escape then. This stop might even give her the opportunity she was looking for. Distantly, a truck engine roared to life. Since her motto had always been to carry on as she meant to go on, she hauled her satchel up and rose to her feet. Muffy sat up, poking her fluffy head through the opening in the top of the pup pack.
Several of the broad-shouldered soldiers surrounding her turned to stare, including the one who called the shots. He turned from his position next to the open cargo door. Two strides across the cargo bay, and he stopped in front of her.
“We stop to fuel,” he told her without preamble, ignoring the flash of Muffy’s bared teeth. “You will not be released here.”
The roar of a diesel engine and the grit of gravel against tires came from the dark.
“But…but…why? I’ve told you everything I know.” She forced a lip tremble and let the tears well. The news didn’t surprise her, but she couldn’t afford to change her tactics now. A sudden absence of whinging would bring scrutiny. He turned away. She touched his forearm and raised her voice to stop him. “I need to use the loo. Do you have one on board this…thing?”
She was almost certain the answer would be no. She’d never seen a chopper with a bathroom. And the interior of this bloody craft was close enough to a chopper layout to make a loo unlikely.
He turned back to her with a flat face. “You’ll have to wait.”
“For how long?” she asked, fidgeting.
He studied her and then said with great reluctance. “Three hours.”
The roar of the truck and the scraping of tires against gravel were much closer. This was her opportunity to escape. But she couldn’t use that opportunity unless she was on the ground.
“I can’t wait that long.” She turned the comment into a whine and squeezed her thighs together like she was barely holding the piss in. “I really need to wee. Like now.” When a frown touched his face, she doubled down. “Look, if there isn’t a loo around here, just let me out so I can do my business behind a shed or something. Trust me, I won’t last half an hour, let alone three, and I really don’t want to piss my pants.” She forced a visible recoil. “That’s just…disgusting. Plus, Muffy will need to go soon too. The last time I took her out was before we went to bed last night.”
The fucker studied her face for way too long. She tried to look like someone in the midst of a bladder emergency. A few more tears and fidgeting seemed to do the trick. A sigh shook his big frame. With an eye roll and a “why me” shake of his head, he turned to the open cargo door and hopped out.
He disappeared into the falling snow without saying a word. She scratched Muffin behind her fluffy ears and considered following him, but the dozen eyes watching her kept her feet still. It was imperative she act cowed and harmless. Following him out that door was not the act of an intimidated woman.
Hoping he was off finding her a bathroom, Eloise remained standing and tried to think of a good excuse to bring her tote with her. Nothing came to mind. The lead bastard had watched her pack the damn thing. He knew what was in it, knew she didn’t need it for a quick trip to wee. She’d have to leave it behind.
At least she’d transferred several stacks of cash from the tote to her coat pocket while everyone was so focused on their dying mate. She had what she needed. A deep, slow breath settled her nerves.
When he returned to the aircraft, his long, dark hair sparkled with melting snow. He beckoned to the soldier who’d escorted her out of the house in Russia and tossed her into the chopper. “Take her to the metal building behind us. It has a bathroom.”
Eloise’s fingers tightened around the tube in her pocket. The syringe was in play after all, although not on the asshole who deserved it. She forced a shaky “thank you” and allowed her guard to help her off the aircraft. Her little angel didn’t like the soldier being so close and warned him off with a combination of barks, growls, and snarls. All of which her young guard ignored.
“Look at you being all guard doggie,” Eloise cooed, with another gentle scratch behind the floppy ears.
Muffy had great instincts. It wasn’t a surprise her princess hated these assholes. Of course, Muffin hated most men, which just illustrated her good sense. Men were nothing but lying, cheating, bullying harbingers of misfortune.
The night was warmer and gentler than two hours earlier in Petropavlovsk. The snow fell in thick, fluffy flakes that melted as soon as they landed. Without the wind, the temperature was downright pleasant. The snow hitting her face was even refreshing.
As they crossed the compound toward the building with the toilet, she studied the landscape. Visibility was good as the snow’s radiance illuminated everything. There were no vehicles around or soldiers other than those tending to the petrol needs of their daft chopper. The property appeared deserted. There wasn’t even a fence protecting it, which seemed odd. At the very least, wouldn’t they want to protect their petrol?
Escape, as of now, was impossible. Too many of the soldiers were watching her. They’d overtake her before she got away. She’d have to enter the building and hope there was a door or window in the back. She sent a quick plea to the universe to help her escape.
Through the falling snow, she saw the blurry impression of trees. The forest would allow her to elude anyone pursuing her. Her gaze fell on the mounds of snow around the shed. Slogging through all that white stuff was going to be a problem, and she’d leave tracks. But the fuckers chasing her would have to wade through it, too, which evened the playing field.
She unzipped her coat and Muffin’s pup pack when they reached the shed and eased her little angel onto the scraped pavement so she could do her business. Muffy whined in distress as soon as her paws touched the icy ground, but squatted immediately, peed, and danced back over to paw at Eloise’s calves. Within seconds, her baby was zipped back in her pup pack.
Their guard opened the wood door and found the light switch against the wall. Bright, white light flooded the building. She followed him inside, only to stop short just inside the doorway. A snowmobile sat directly in front of a large roll-up door. The machine was fluorescent green—which would stand out like a flame in the night. But it looked like it was built for speed. It rose high and blocky in the front, low and sleek through the rear. For the first time, she offered thanks for Grigory’s penchant for fast toys. Snowmobiles had been a favorite of his. The newer and faster, the better.
The sheer luck of the find took her breath away. The machine sat right in front of a roll-up door at the very back of the building. She’d asked the universe for help, and good God, had the universe come through for her. The soldiers out front wouldn’t see her exit the building.
If the snowmobile didn’t have the keys in the ignition, she’d hotwire it. One of her first jobs as a child had been stealing utes for a chop shop in the bowels of Sydney. She scanned the area as they headed toward the back left corner of the building. Long, narrow benches ran along both sides of the building. The middle was open. A patchwork of oily stains sprawled across the cement. The smell of oil and petrol tickled her nose.
Her gaze fell on a short-handled axe lying on the right work bench. That would make an excellent weapon. The blade looked razor sharp, and it was short enough to tuck in front of her on the snowmobile. She shot a quick glance at the machine as they approached the back of the building and a door marked bathroom.
The keys were in the ignition.
A gloating smile partially engulfed her face before she banished it. Sometimes the universe was incredibly generous. She’d give extra thanks for this unexpected gift in her daily gratitudes.
The soldier escorting her opened the bathroom door, then turned, parking his shoulders and back against the wall. The bathroom was surprisingly clean and well-stocked. She pulled the door closed behind her, locked it, and took a deep, calming breath, only to choke on the noxious smell of bleach and air freshener. A fit of coughing overwhelmed her. A few seconds later, a sturdy knock hit the door.
“You okay in there?” her escort asked.
“Fine.” She choked the reassurance out through her spasming throat and watering eyes. She didn’t want him barging in to check on her, so she added an explanation. “Someone went a little aggro with the bleach and air freshener in here. Makes it hard to breathe is all.”
A grunt of acknowledgement came through the door.
Eloise forced the coughing back. Before getting to work, she dropped her sweatpants and used the toilet. Who knew how long it would be before she found another clean, well-stocked loo. As soon as she was finished, she flushed the toilet and zipped the pup pack up until Muffy was completely enclosed inside. Then she zipped her coat up to her chin for an extra layer of protection. Best to keep multiple layers of fabric between Muffin and the syringe when it popped out.
She turned the faucet on to cover any suspicious sounds as she converted the tube in her pocket from lipstick to syringe. The false front was easy to pry loose. She heard nothing as the insert popped out, so her guard wouldn’t either. She pressed the button at the bottom of the tube to pop the syringe up. Gingerly, she slid the cylinder between her index and middle finger, until the tube was hidden by her palm and the needle was sticking out between her fingers. She couldn’t afford to prick herself. That would be a lethal mistake.
With a deep breath, she turned the faucet off and reached for the door handle. Her guard turned to her as the door swung open.
Not yet. Not while he’s watching and can deflect the syringe.
“All good?” he asked, the question polite rather than interested. His gaze dropped to her throat and the zipped-up coat.
“Much better.” She sent him a sunny smile. “Muffy was cold, so I tucked her in nice and tight,” she embellished when his gaze lingered on her coat.
She slowed as they headed back across the building so she could jab him from behind. But her guard glanced over his shoulder and frowned, his pace slowing to match hers. Fuck, she needed a distraction.
“Oh, hell no! What’s that?” She stopped walking and pointed at random with her non-syringe fingers and tried for a horrified expression. A muffled bark came from beneath her coat as Muffin went into guard dog mode.
As he turned to look where she was pointing, she plunged the needle into the back of his neck. The syringe was spring-loaded. It injected the poison instantly. She jerked the needle out and tossed the tube over her shoulder as his hand reached for the back of his neck.
“What the—” He spun toward her. His hand clamped over the injection site.
Created in a laboratory, this synthetic version of tetrodotoxin was fast-acting, with lightning-quick absorption rates. Paralysis occurred within minutes. Death in five. She didn’t need him dead, just incapable of calling for help. But there was still a minute or two before that would happen.
Until then—distract, distract, distract.
“Oh, fuck!” She swung around behind him and brushed frantically at his neck, trying to ignore her princess’s barking, which had become louder and shriller. “There’s a gigantic spider on your neck.” She brushed some more. “Uh oh. I think it went down the back of your shirt. It must have bitten you. The back of your neck is turning red and swelling. You better take off your shirt so we can get it out. Wouldn’t want it to bite you again.”
He tilted his head back and frowned at the ceiling. “Spiders aren’t active in the cold.”
Fuck, she’d hoped he wouldn’t realize that. His hand reached for the back of his neck again. His fingertips gently grazed the skin. “I don’t feel any swelling.”
“It’s very slight,” she said earnestly.
He studied her face intently, then scanned her from head to toe, obviously looking for something that would explain the pinch he’d felt, something that wasn’t spider-related. His eyes were narrow and full of suspicion when they rose back to meet hers.
She widened her eyes and strove for an innocent expression. “You really should remove your t-shirt, make sure that spider isn’t beneath it.”
“I’d feel it moving. There’s no spider under my shirt.” The suspicion deepened on his face. He reached for her arm. “Let’s go.” He froze, staring at his hand. His fingers were shaking. “What the hell?”
“What’s wrong?” She forced patience instead of racing for the snowmobile and rolling the door up. The toxin hadn’t fully hit him yet. He could still make it to the door, yell for help. She needed to distract him.
“My hand is tingling.”
“The spider—”
“I didn’t get bitten by a spider,” he snapped.
His gaze dropped to the ground and slid back. She hadn’t seen the lipstick tube land. How far back had she thrown it? Was it hidden from view?
Apparently not, judging by the hiss that broke from him and the way he staggered back.
“Wat…ya…ject…?” The words were slurred and slow. The venom was already at work.
He staggered again, caught himself, and turned toward the door. Stepping in front of him, she made a fist—thumb on the outside—and slammed it into his Adam’s apple. She didn’t have enough strength in her arm to collapse his trachea, but there was enough force in the blow to stun his larynx and keep him quiet until the poison silenced him.
He made a choking-huffing sound and teetered on his feet. All it took was a two-handed shove to push him over backwards. A dull crack sounded as the back of his head connected with the cement. For a moment, he simply laid there, then weakly struggled to get up. Since she had nothing to attack him with, she did the next best thing. She shoved him back down, turned around, and plopped her bum down on his face.
Muffin didn’t like being sloshed around in her pup pack. Her barking went ballistic. Eloise prayed to the universe that the soldiers outside didn’t hear the barking through the two layers of fabric and the metal shed. Or—if they did—they’d become immune to her barking and shrugged it off.
After a couple of weak attempts to throw her off, which she easily rode out, her guard went still beneath her. She eased to the side cautiously, ready to sit on him again if his stillness was a trick.
It wasn’t. He lay there, frozen, his pupils dilated.
Muffin was still barking like a maniac. She needed to get out of here before her kidnappers came to investigate. With her angel still double zipped below her coat, she collected the hand axe and raced to the roll-up door. Her fingers shook as she pressed the top button on the silver panel next to the roll-up door.
Please…please…let this be the button that raises the door.
The door grumbled, then slowly rose beneath the press of her thumb. Her heart slammed harder and harder as she waited for it to rise enough to get the snowmobile out. If those fuckers outside heard the door rising, if they caught her before she made it out the door, she was toast. Double toast once they discovered their dead mate.
Finally! The door was high enough. She lifted her thumb from the up button and raced to the snowmobile. Straddling the seat, she twisted the keys in the ignition and asked the universe for one last favor. To her immense relief, the machine instantly growled to life. Lightheaded with fear and adrenaline, she guided it out the door. Once clear of the building, with acres of snow stretching in front of her, and Muffy’s ferocious barking accompanying her, she gunned it and raced for the tree line.
She offered a victorious woop-woop, a fist pump, and a heartfelt thank you to the universe as she disappeared among the trees.
And just like that, her life was back on track.