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Two Days Later/ December 22
Tikhomirov's estate
1500 hours
He was ready. He had imagined every possibility, covered every contingency. No matter how clever the Rabb woman might be, he would come out the victor tonight. How could he not? Everything was in his favor; he held all the cards. He only regretted the necessity of eliminating all the Americans immediately, denying him the chance to enjoy them fully.
Tonight, it would all end.
***********
With a Herculean effort, Mac wearily raised her head as the heavy door creaked open. It had now been over five days since she'd eaten, and the toll on her taken by the starvation kept getting higher. She'd been unable to summon the strength to complete her 'exercise' for almost 12 hours now, and she was quickly losing her battle with the ever-increasing chill. She felt so cold... So very cold....
Lost in her wandering thoughts, she didn't notice the two guards that had entered the cell until they reached for her. Her weak attempt to push them off did nothing, and then she was being dragged to her feet and out of the cell.
She was taken up a flight of stone stairs and through several passageways, all of it blurring together. Then the men stopped, but only long enough for another to slap a pair of heavy shackles on her wrists.
Then they were on the move again, through even more hallways and up more stairs, until they reached a door. One of her escorts gave it a strong kick, and then she was hauled out into the open air.
The storm's fury hit her with the strength of a bomb blast. The icy wind cut through her like a knife, stealing what little warmth remained in her body, while the snow blew around her, blinding her. What was happening? Where they just going to abandon her, leaving her to die?
The guards continued to drag her, her uncooperative and weakened legs unable to fully support her. How far would they take her before abandoning her?
Then the unexpected happened. The guards stopped, and she heard the sound of a car door being opened. She was roughly shoved in, but she didn't care. The car was wondrously, soothingly warm, and she couldn't help but close her eyes and soak it in.
She remained that way, until a few moments later, that is, when the battered and abused body of a barely alive Clayton Webb was thrust in from the other side.
**********************
Same time
10 km NE of above location
The cabin was silent except for the cracking of the fire in the hearth, the quiet metal-on-metal sounds of a gun being disassembled and cleaned, and the soft scrape of a razor over skin.
Mercedes cleaned each part of the gun with meticulous care. They only had two weapons, and both had to work perfectly. She'd finished the gun she'd taken from her attacker in Yekaterinburg a few moments ago; she was now working on the pistol she'd stolen from Alex Volkonov's car.
There was a soft splish of water as over by the fire, Harm rinsed the razor he'd been using. Glancing over his shoulder, he commented, "I didn't think you'd know how to do that."
CD didn't stop her methodical cleaning, despite looking up briefly in his direction. "I do carry a sidearm on the job, you know. Besides, there's this little part of forensics called ballistics." She paused, setting down the barrel and picking up the clip, examining it closely. "It may not be my specialty, but I know my way around a gun."
He nodded, then returned to his previous task, taking a few more careful swipes with the razor before rinsing it again and setting it aside. Wiping his face with a towel, he turned to his cousin. "Well?"
CD finished her task before looking up, reassembling the gun with ease. After a quick check of the sight, she turned back to her cousin. She stared at him for a long moment, assessing the change.
"Perfect."
*******************
Abandoned cabin
10 km NE of Tikhomirov's estate
1720 hours
Mac had done the best she could for Webb, which wasn't much. Blessedly, he'd drifted in and out of consciousness, seemingly aware of nothing. Mac herself wasn't doing a whole lot better.
She'd kept her wits enough to realize that they had left their previous location, the solitary driver taking an unknown course with caution, even as the weather worsened. It had taken her a while, but she finally thought she'd figured out what was going on.
They were being traded. She thought the man in the front seat was the General from the first night, which made sense. His lack of accompanying forces did not. Unless...
Unless this wasn't an official trade. Not if the persons behind it were a pair of irritatingly stubborn cousins with an iron-plated code of honor.
Then she was out of time to think, as the car stopped and one after the other, she and Webb were pulled from the car and dropped on the ground next to it, Tikhomirov's gun never wavering in its aim.
**********
She watched the car arrive, gritting her teeth at the way Mac and Webb gave no resistance, staying on the ground after Tikhomirov dropped them there. At best they would neither help nor hinder matters. At worst... She didn't want to think about that.
The blowing, swirling snow made sighting difficult at best. Still, she found her target, inching forward. Now it was all up to him.
**********************
Tikhomirov looked away from his prisoners, toward the cabin that was barely visible through the snowstorm. "I am here, Miss Rabb," he called out in English, "and I have your friends here. Give me your uncle, and they are yours." And as soon as the foolish woman showed her face, Tikhomirov would blow her head off.
There was a creak and a brief flicker of light, indicating the cabin door had opened. Then an indistinct figure approached, their identity hidden at first by the snow and then by the fedora and coat they wore. The tall figure stopped a few feet away, pausing.
"Here I am, Kyril Andreievitch," he said, with a voice straight from Tikhomirov's nightmares. The man looked up, and Tikhomirov's heart seized as though a dead, icy hand had closed around it.
He was looking at the face of a dead man, a man he personally killed many years ago. Harmon Rabb Senior.
TBC......
Two Days Later/ December 22
Tikhomirov's estate
1500 hours
He was ready. He had imagined every possibility, covered every contingency. No matter how clever the Rabb woman might be, he would come out the victor tonight. How could he not? Everything was in his favor; he held all the cards. He only regretted the necessity of eliminating all the Americans immediately, denying him the chance to enjoy them fully.
Tonight, it would all end.
***********
With a Herculean effort, Mac wearily raised her head as the heavy door creaked open. It had now been over five days since she'd eaten, and the toll on her taken by the starvation kept getting higher. She'd been unable to summon the strength to complete her 'exercise' for almost 12 hours now, and she was quickly losing her battle with the ever-increasing chill. She felt so cold... So very cold....
Lost in her wandering thoughts, she didn't notice the two guards that had entered the cell until they reached for her. Her weak attempt to push them off did nothing, and then she was being dragged to her feet and out of the cell.
She was taken up a flight of stone stairs and through several passageways, all of it blurring together. Then the men stopped, but only long enough for another to slap a pair of heavy shackles on her wrists.
Then they were on the move again, through even more hallways and up more stairs, until they reached a door. One of her escorts gave it a strong kick, and then she was hauled out into the open air.
The storm's fury hit her with the strength of a bomb blast. The icy wind cut through her like a knife, stealing what little warmth remained in her body, while the snow blew around her, blinding her. What was happening? Where they just going to abandon her, leaving her to die?
The guards continued to drag her, her uncooperative and weakened legs unable to fully support her. How far would they take her before abandoning her?
Then the unexpected happened. The guards stopped, and she heard the sound of a car door being opened. She was roughly shoved in, but she didn't care. The car was wondrously, soothingly warm, and she couldn't help but close her eyes and soak it in.
She remained that way, until a few moments later, that is, when the battered and abused body of a barely alive Clayton Webb was thrust in from the other side.
**********************
Same time
10 km NE of above location
The cabin was silent except for the cracking of the fire in the hearth, the quiet metal-on-metal sounds of a gun being disassembled and cleaned, and the soft scrape of a razor over skin.
Mercedes cleaned each part of the gun with meticulous care. They only had two weapons, and both had to work perfectly. She'd finished the gun she'd taken from her attacker in Yekaterinburg a few moments ago; she was now working on the pistol she'd stolen from Alex Volkonov's car.
There was a soft splish of water as over by the fire, Harm rinsed the razor he'd been using. Glancing over his shoulder, he commented, "I didn't think you'd know how to do that."
CD didn't stop her methodical cleaning, despite looking up briefly in his direction. "I do carry a sidearm on the job, you know. Besides, there's this little part of forensics called ballistics." She paused, setting down the barrel and picking up the clip, examining it closely. "It may not be my specialty, but I know my way around a gun."
He nodded, then returned to his previous task, taking a few more careful swipes with the razor before rinsing it again and setting it aside. Wiping his face with a towel, he turned to his cousin. "Well?"
CD finished her task before looking up, reassembling the gun with ease. After a quick check of the sight, she turned back to her cousin. She stared at him for a long moment, assessing the change.
"Perfect."
*******************
Abandoned cabin
10 km NE of Tikhomirov's estate
1720 hours
Mac had done the best she could for Webb, which wasn't much. Blessedly, he'd drifted in and out of consciousness, seemingly aware of nothing. Mac herself wasn't doing a whole lot better.
She'd kept her wits enough to realize that they had left their previous location, the solitary driver taking an unknown course with caution, even as the weather worsened. It had taken her a while, but she finally thought she'd figured out what was going on.
They were being traded. She thought the man in the front seat was the General from the first night, which made sense. His lack of accompanying forces did not. Unless...
Unless this wasn't an official trade. Not if the persons behind it were a pair of irritatingly stubborn cousins with an iron-plated code of honor.
Then she was out of time to think, as the car stopped and one after the other, she and Webb were pulled from the car and dropped on the ground next to it, Tikhomirov's gun never wavering in its aim.
**********
She watched the car arrive, gritting her teeth at the way Mac and Webb gave no resistance, staying on the ground after Tikhomirov dropped them there. At best they would neither help nor hinder matters. At worst... She didn't want to think about that.
The blowing, swirling snow made sighting difficult at best. Still, she found her target, inching forward. Now it was all up to him.
**********************
Tikhomirov looked away from his prisoners, toward the cabin that was barely visible through the snowstorm. "I am here, Miss Rabb," he called out in English, "and I have your friends here. Give me your uncle, and they are yours." And as soon as the foolish woman showed her face, Tikhomirov would blow her head off.
There was a creak and a brief flicker of light, indicating the cabin door had opened. Then an indistinct figure approached, their identity hidden at first by the snow and then by the fedora and coat they wore. The tall figure stopped a few feet away, pausing.
"Here I am, Kyril Andreievitch," he said, with a voice straight from Tikhomirov's nightmares. The man looked up, and Tikhomirov's heart seized as though a dead, icy hand had closed around it.
He was looking at the face of a dead man, a man he personally killed many years ago. Harmon Rabb Senior.
TBC......