Chapter 6
It was only the wind.
Amanda held her breath and worked the end of the paperclip into the handcuff's lock. It wasn't a half rake, but it might do the trick, if she could just get it at the right angle. She didn't have much choice. There wasn't anything else within reach of her hands or feet.
One tumbler, then two, clicked into line. Lee wasn't going to walk into an ambush. Not if she could help it. If she could just pick this darn lock before the Russian wandered back in, she'd have a chance.
Down to the last one. She twisted the paperclip, and ever so gently . . .
. . . dropped it. Amanda twisted, trying to catch it on her shirt, but it bounced off a button and onto the floor. Oh, great! Now what?
Anger coursed through her veins and replaced the last vestige of fear. This was ridiculous! Sliding her legs off the cot, she stood, her arms still held fast by the cuffs. She tugged experimentally, but the bedframe didn't budge. She didn't know how much time she'd have, but taking it apart with her bare hands was starting to look good.
The soft crunch of leaves underfoot stopped her cold. Heart hammering in her chest, she strained to listen. There it was again. He was coming back! She tugged harder.
His face popped up in the window!
Amanda threw herself backward, instinct overriding common sense, and almost fell as she stumbled against the far wall. She met his eyes and let out an explosive breath.
"Zinoniev," she hissed. "What--?"
He cut her off with a finger across his lips and pointed to the door. Then it hit. She stared at her wrists, the cuffs dangling from her right hand. Wow. That last turn must have done it.
No time to think about it now. She slipped beside the cabin door and peered out. No sign of anyone. Dawn was beginning to brighten the woods, and she would lose the cover of darkness. She needed to do something. Quick. When she turned a querying look toward Zinoniev, he was gone.
She needed to even the odds a bit, and her gaze swept the cramped room. A slow smile was hard to contain as she reached for the poker beside the tiny fireplace. It felt good in her hand. Nice and solid.
Hefting it, she peered out the door again, scanning the trees for signs of the enemy. A puff of cigarette smoke pinpointed her adversary. She eased out the door and edged around the back of the cabin. If she could just get behind him . . .
The thick tree trunks provided a handy cover, and Amanda dodged from trunk to trunk, her eyes never leaving the target. Just a few feet more. He was standing in a small clearing, fiddling with his cigarette. Exposed. But if she went for him, she would be exposed, too. She raised her poker and prepared to charge.
"Oh, my, I seem to be lost. Can you point the way to the ninth green?"
As Zinoniev tipped his hat and smiled, the Russian agent fumbled for his gun. Before her former captor could take aim, Amanda darted toward him, swinging the poker with all her strength. It caught the agent across the stomach, and he curled over with a startled grunt. A precise tap on the head dropped him like a rock, and she fought back a burst of nausea. She didn't want to hurt him.
Well, he wasn't going anywhere for a while, but she didn't want to take any chances. She fished through his pockets and fumbled for the key to the handcuffs. After snapping them off her wrist, she rolled the man over to a tree and eased his hands around the trunk, locking them in place. That should do it.
"Thanks, Mr. Zinoniev, I'm . . ." She turned toward him.
There was no one there. Amanda whirled around, scanning the woods. How could he just disappear like that? And now what? It was decision time, but what should she do? She could wait for Lee to come. But sitting here while he was out there somewhere--worried--didn't feel right.
There was no sign of the car. So she and her captor must have been stashed here. And there was no sign of Rostov or the other KGB goon.
Of course, marching off into the sunrise wasn't the best option either. She'd come here in a trunk, and she had no idea where she was. Amanda wandered through the trees, until she came to the edge of a plateau. The valley spread below her was dotted with trees and small ponds, connected by a carpet of green.
She was above the golf course.
On the far side of the valley, the turrets of the resort gleamed dully in the growing dawn. It couldn't be that far, maybe a couple of miles. Deer trails meandered down the hill below her feet, in gentle switchbacks between the trees. She picked the widest one and started down.
It was going to be a long walk.
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Damn it! Where was the man?
Lee stalked through the lobby for the second time. Every move was a second too late. Rostov had cleared out the room the agents had commandeered. A young waiter had spotted him as he walked out the front doors. If he was heading for a rendezvous with Amanda's captor, he would be aiming for the parking lot, and Lee intended to get there first.
He had to be just seconds behind him, but there was no sign of his quarry.
Perhaps the loss of one of his team had thrown him. So far, the agent hadn't been discovered, but it was only a matter of time before one of the caretakers came across him and raised a hue and cry.
A blonde head bobbed behind a well-manicured hedge to his right, and he ducked down and trailed after him. Rostov. But the man wasn't walking to the parking lot. The lights from the resort's riding stable illuminated the walkway, and Lee edged closer as the Russian approached the caretaker's apartment adjacent to the main barn and knocked. The door eased open. After a brief conversation, Rostov slipped the disheveled caretaker a roll of bills and a set of keys.
So that was how he had done it. Paid off an employee for the room master keys. He probably had information about the resort routines and staff, too. Well, his run of luck was going to end now.
Horses were already tied to the rail in front of the barn, waiting to be saddled for the sunrise trail ride. Lee sighed as he cut through the barn aisle; he and Amanda had planned to go on that ride this morning. Anger and worry quickened his pace. If he didn't catch Rostov as he came around . . .
He darted around the front of the barn and hit his quarry broadside, knocking him back into the open tack room.
"You!" Rostov swung wildly as Lee dodged behind a saddle rack.
A savage grin crossed Lee's face as he feinted around the rack and lunged for him, only to be knocked back by the handful of leather bridles that Rostov was swinging over his head. He grabbed the trailing leather and yanked Rostov over the saddles piled by the door, but lost his balance as his legs tangled with the lead ropes underfoot. Rostov shoved past him and ran out the door.
He plucked furiously at the jumbled leather and nylon straps that encircled his ankle, hopping on one foot and almost dragging a fallen saddle through the door. The last loop slipped away as he heard the buzz of the electric feed cart thrumming to life, with Rostov at the wheel.
Lee pelted down the aisle-way, jumping feed buckets and batting aside rakes and brooms, his eyes on his target. He reached out, almost touching the back of the cart--already in motion. A final leap carried him onto the back of the cart, and he grabbed for Rostov's collar.
His fingers closed on air as the cart hit a bump, spilling him off the back and facedown into the dirt.
No! Rostov was not going to get away--Amanda's life depended on it. He scrambled to his knees and looked around. Then his fevered gaze spotted his salvation. Ignoring the surprised snort as he yanked the quick-release knot free, he swung up onto the bony back of the first horse at the hitching rack and took a firm grip on the lead rope.
No time for a bridle or saddle. He thumped his heels against the startled horse's ribs and leaned forward as he pounded after Rostov.
The feed cart careened across the golf course, each swerve and bump spilling grain and clouds of hay. At least the thing wasn't meant for speed.
He hadn't ridden bareback since he was a kid, but some things stuck with you--like the fear of falling off at a gallop. Just the thought of it made him grip more tightly with his knees.
Rostov glanced over his shoulder, and Lee could have sworn he could make out the surprise on the guy's face. Just a few strides more and he would have him in his grasp. When he was within ten feet of the cart, he kneed the horse closer and grabbed a handful of mane. As he pulled alongside the cart, he reached out and grabbed Rostov's coat collar from behind and pulled back on his makeshift reins.
Only the iron grip of his legs kept him on the horse as Rostov popped out of the driver's seat and sailed backward. Lee released his grip as the Russian rolled head over heels, to land face down on the damp grass. He pulled the horse in a circle and trotted back to his fallen adversary.
He slid off the sweaty horse, then flipped Rostov over with the tip of his shoe and dragged him to his knees.
"Where is she, damn it?" Lee shook him to punctuate each word. "Which way is the cabin?"
He followed Rostov's trembling finger and stared up to the plateau. Glancing back at the resort, he smiled as he saw a caravan of headlights winding down the road through the hills behind it. It had to be the cavalry, but there was no time to waste.
His hand still wrapped in Rostov's shirt, he jerked him to his feet. "Come on, we have a little house call to make." Lee shoved him toward the horse. "You better pray that she's okay, because if she's not, I'll kill you."
There was little gratification in watching the fear rise in Rostov's eyes.
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Amanda limped down the last switchback and stepped onto the manicured grass. Civilization at last. Her knee throbbed, and she tried to think of something else--like picking the brambles out of her hair. The torn jeans and her sore rump kept bringing her mind back to her last fall. Hopping over that fallen log hadn't been the best idea. She'd bumped her knee when her legs slipped out from under her. The scrape was visible through the tear in her jeans, but there wasn't anything she could do about it now.
The only positive side was sliding halfway down the hill on her rear. Her speedy descent may have been hard on her jeans, but at least it had shortened the distance.
The sun was almost up now, and the view of the resort would have been rather pretty, if she didn't have so far to walk. Gritting her teeth, she forged ahead.
A commotion to her left caught her attention, and she stopped and blinked. Headlights gathered at the far edge of the golf course and coming toward her was--was something. It looked like . . . almost as if . . .
No, it couldn't be. Could it?
It could!
Amanda shuffled into a painful jog as her Knight in Shining Armor cantered across the vast expanse of grass, the rising sun a corona of gold around his heroic figure. After a few strides, she staggered to a halt and braced her hands on her thighs, gasping. He was going to have to come to her. As he neared, the hero started looking a bit ragged. And what was that thing flopping in front of him?
The warm relief in his eyes, as he pulled the horse to a halt beside her, was almost enough to make her forget her sore knee. He rode bareback, with a handcuffed man draped in front of him. It certainly didn't look comfortable for either of them.
With a grunt, Lee shoved his burden off the other side of the animal and leaned toward her with his hand outstretched. He didn't respond to the startled yelp as Rostov thudded unceremoniously onto the grass.
Rostov and golf courses--a bad habit they were going to have to break.
She barely noticed the stream of headlights as the cars lined up behind him. Doors swung open, and the Agency presence announced itself, in the dark suits and darker glasses of the agents that poured from the cars. Glancing at them, all Amanda could think of was how annoyed the resort would be at the deep ruts in their nice green fairway.
Shaking her head to clear it, she pointed toward the plateau. "There's another one up there. He's cuffed to a tree, though."
A burly young agent yanked Rostov to his feet and dragged him around to Amanda's side of the horse. "You've got Rostov? Where's the main target?"
Amanda fixed an innocent wide-eyed stare on the young man's face. "Zinoniev? I have no idea, haven't seen him." She turned her gaze to Lee and grinned. She'd tell him later.
Even as he pulled her up in front of him, Lee turned to the agent obviously in charge of the operation. "There's another one in the maintenance shed by the parking lot. You might want to grab that one, too."
"But, sir, Zinoniev?" It was almost a plea. Amanda didn't envy the man. He was going to have to explain the Russian's loss. Smyth shouldn't be too disappointed, though. Not with a prime catch like Rostov to crow about.
She stifled a sneeze and leaned back in Lee's arms as she felt him pull on the lead rope and urge the horse forward. It felt good to be off her feet, even balanced precariously on this beast's slippery shoulders.
But duty was duty. "Shouldn't we stay and . . ."
He drummed his heals against the horse's sides and tightened his arms around her. "Hang on," he whispered, and she could almost hear his smile. Giving in to the inevitable, she grabbed a handful of mane and hung on as they rode off into the sunrise.
The horse wasn't white, but it would have to do.