Page 44 of Close Pursuit

“Roger. Standby.”

This pause took longer. It was a laborious process to turn a sat phone call into a secured telephone call. But eventually, the voice came back up. “You’ll hear three clicks, then the line will go live and secure.”

The familiar clicks sounded. He dialed a memorized number he’d been given to report completion of that side ‘favor’ involving Alex Koronov. God knew who was on the other end of it.

An anonymous male voice answered the call. “Good evening.”

Evening? That placed the guy in the western hemisphere. North or South America, because it was morning over here.

“Umm, I was told to call this number to report on a…project.”

“I’m familiar with your phone number. I’ll relay your report.”

Well, okay, then. Sounded like somebody official. His report would move up through the layers of someone’s bureaucracy. Some alphabet-named government agency if he had to guess.

“The target is not neutralized. Repeat, not neutralized. Departed this location approximately ten minutes ago in an Antonov 26 aircraft painted in military gray and Russian flagged. No tail numbers displayed. The aircraft was last seen turning northbound.”

“Roger. Will relay.”

“Do you have any further instructions for me?”

“Negative.”

Now he could only pray Alex slipping way didn’t lead to recriminations against him. He had no idea what the fallout would be from Koronov being alive and free and apparently headed for Russia.

As for Katie being with Koronov, he was worried about her. She was totally clueless about the situation she was flying into.

He disconnected that call and placed a second call. “It’s Candyman. You need me to go through the whole authentication process again?”

“Nah, I recognize your voice. Go ahead. Whatchya need?”

“I need medevac from this location.”

“What happened to your wheels?”

“Stolen by the bastard who stabbed me.”

“Are you ambulatory?”

He looked down at the big gauze bandage plastered over his wound. It had a bright crimson stain in the middle of it about the diameter of a quarter. If he was gonna bleed out, he’d have done it by now. Koronov’s internal pressure bandage was holding. “That’s affirmative,” he transmitted. “I can walk.”

“Standby.” Eventually the voice came back with, “Make your way to the following coordinates. Ready to copy?”

He pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen. “Go ahead.”

The Russian aircrew rigged up a cradle for Dawn and took pleasure fussing over the baby until the vibrating drone of the propellers knocked out both Dawn and Katie.

Katie woke groggy enough that she thought she’d been out for a while. About an hour after she woke up, the plane completed a bumpy descent and landed. Nervous to see where Alex had taken her, she looked around as she stepped out of the aircraft.

Whoa. This was definitely not Kansas, Dorothy. The airport terminal was a tired, gray, three-story block of a building with a gently upcurving portico that tried to be modern and failed miserably. The terminal looked at least fifty years old and was showing its age. “Time warp, much?” she muttered.

Alex grimaced like he was none too thrilled to be here—wherever here was—either.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Osh.”

“Sorry. Where?” The only Osh she knew of was Oshkosh. And this was emphatically not Wisconsin.

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