The Hunters

24

Kadurik wasn’t just choking her, he was wrenching her forward and back, cutting off her air entirely each time he pulled back and strengthened his hold. Then he stopped moving. He stood erect, hugging Jasmine tight against him, lifting her onto her toes.

She tried to remember what she had been taught: focus on one finger. If she could pry one digit from her throat, his grip would loosen significantly. At the same time, she thought about her stance, and how she might be able to knock him off balance.

But training is not instinct. Thought is not muscle memory. And the seconds Jasmine squandered remembering the techniques cost her air and consciousness.

Now she was helpless.

Jasmine’s face turned red. Her tongue stabbed out of her frighteningly twisted mouth. Then her body jerked forward limply as if she were trying to throw up. The sounds of her gagging made Garcia and Papineau sick with helplessness all those miles away.

‘Sarah!’ Papineau screamed in the Moscow railroad office. ‘Where the hell are you?’

But Sarah wasn’t answering.

‘There must be something wrong with her unit,’ Garcia said.

‘Quiet!’ Cobb whispered, low enough so that Kadurik wouldn’t hear.

‘You!’ Kadurik snarled in heavily accented English. ‘Kick… pipe… here!’

He clutched Jasmine to him, huddling behind her, shaking her head with his hand at Cobb like a mad puppeteer.

Cobb motioned to lower his elbow first, relax the choke.

‘Do it!’ Kadurik threatened.

Cobb shook his head. ‘She dies, you die.’

Kadurik relaxed slightly — but it was enough. Jasmine was in no condition to fight, but at least she could breathe, albeit raspingly.

Cobb agreed to his end of the bargain. He slowly placed the pipe on the ground and kicked it forward — all the while deciding when to make his move. But before he had a chance to do anything, there was a blur of motion behind Kadurik, who made a whining, wailing sound, which was drowned out by the stomach-turning noise of ripping skin and smashing bone.

Kadurik crumpled to the sidewalk like a rag doll. Jasmine fell, too, but before she hit the ground, Andrei Dobrev caught her in his blood-splattered hands. To do so, he was forced to drop his nineteen-inch-long saddle-bolt spanner — an open-ended wrench used to tighten bolts in locomotives. Covered in strands of hair and bits of flesh, it clattered to the cement in the suddenly quiet night.

Cobb blinked a few times, surprised by the turn of events.

Although Jasmine was his main concern, Cobb rushed to Kadurik first. Not to treat his wounds, but to make sure he was no longer a threat.

He wasn’t. The skinhead was dead.

Cobb patted him down and searched his pockets. Then he placed the weapons back in the hands of the men who had been carrying them — including the rock, so the police would know who had attacked their colleagues.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad result.

Six men down, but his historian/interpreter was still alive.

Cobb knelt beside her and pressed two fingers behind Jasmine’s inner left ankle. It was an acupressure technique he had learned in the service, intended to help her recover. A few seconds later, her eyes fluttered open. Her pupils were clear and her flesh was pale in the streetlight, but she appeared okay, at least physically. And she would benefit from this experience: the next time she felt that fear, she would know it, confront it, and hopefully get past it.

That was how combat worked.

Jasmine looked up at Cobb in wounded wonder.

‘What happened?’ she croaked.

Cobb put his hand on Dobrev’s shoulder. ‘You survived — thanks to your friend.’

‘Really?’

Cobb nodded. ‘Really.’

She smiled at Dobrev and thanked him in Russian.

McNutt had heard the confrontation through his earpiece, but he never had a clear view from his vantage point across the street. And he felt sick about it.

‘Chief,’ he said sincerely, ‘I didn’t have a shot. I’m sorry.’

Cobb waved off the apology. ‘It’s all right.’

‘I’m coming now. Two minutes out.’

‘Don’t. We don’t need you… Sarah?’

‘Ready,’ was all she said.

McNutt slowed to a halt. ‘Instructions?’

‘B to A,’ Cobb said quietly. ‘We’ll pick you up as soon as we can.’

‘Outstanding,’ McNutt replied.

Over the intercom, Papineau pleaded with the team, hoping that someone — anyone — would recognize his authority. ‘See if you can get back upstairs. Tell Andrei that Jasmine needs a drink. If you do that, see if you can get the coin. We—’

‘Shut up,’ Cobb said.

‘Boss man,’ Garcia said fearlessly, ‘it would be a big help if I was able to laser-scan it.’

‘A painful process, if I shove that coin up your ass,’ Cobb growled.

He practically heard Garcia’s mouth snap shut.

Cobb helped Jasmine and Dobrev. He was angry with himself for having assumed Kadurik was among the initial gang of three. That was a mistake that could have cost them dearly.

‘Now what?’ Jasmine wondered.

‘You hear that?’ Cobb asked.

‘Hear what? My ears are ringing.’

‘Sirens,’ he said calmly. ‘Someone must have seen the fight and called the police. We need to go before they arrive.’ He pointed at Dobrev. ‘Tell him that.’

Jasmine did, and Dobrev replied sadly.

‘He understands,’ she told Cobb. ‘He said he’ll keep our names out of it if anyone asks.’

Cobb smiled. ‘He doesn’t get. I mean we all have to go. Now.’

Papineau objected from afar. ‘Jack, what are you thinking? We don’t know this man. His presence puts everyone in jeopardy if—’

Anger flared in Cobb’s eyes. ‘Another word and I terminate. Got that?’

Papineau’s response was heavy breathing. The only reason Cobb was still listening at all was because he needed to stay in touch with the other team members. On most missions, this was the point when he pretty much stopped giving a damn about what the bottled-water-drinking bastards back in their ops tents thought, said, or did.

But Papineau wasn’t the only one objecting to Dobrev’s inclusion in their escape. Dobrev himself was arguing with Jasmine, shaking his head and pointing to his apartment.

It was obvious that he intended to stay.

Jasmine translated for Cobb. ‘He says he’s not leaving without the coin. He left it in the open, and he’s afraid he might never see it again if he doesn’t go get it right now. I think he’ll come with us if we just let him run upstairs and—’

‘There’s no time for that,’ Cobb replied.

The sounds of the sirens were growing louder.

‘Sarah, you copy?’ Cobb asked.

‘Heard it all,’ Sarah answered.

‘Good. Smash and grab,’ Cobb instructed. ‘Two minutes. Then get down here.’

‘Two minutes?’ Sarah repeated. ‘In two minutes we’ll be two blocks from here.’

‘Prove it,’ Cobb challenged.