Page 83 of Secret Weapon

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NINE

Go in hard, show them who’s in charge, that’s what Zacharov had always told me.And because I was female, I had to be twice as tough as the men.

Or twice as devious.

The prisoners were awake now, and I could tell by their expressions that they were worried but nottooworried.They thought I’d gotten lucky at the hospital, that they were smarter than me, and ultimately, testosterone would prevail.

It was a look I’d seen a hundred times before, usually before the life faded from a man’s eyes and all that was left was an empty shell and the belated realisation that they’d fucked up.

I started with a smile.Maybe they couldn’t see my mouth, but it would show in my eyes.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.Do you have a preference for English orRusskiy?”

All these little puzzle pieces to put together…

A weapon had been stolen.A Russian connection.Markovich’s government must be involved because they’d okayed the raid on the internet café in St.Petersburg.And on the way to the hospital, Ana had told me that guarding Ottie was only a temporary arrangement, a few hours at most until a bigger team arrived and she could step down.Step down.Emmy had mentioned the powers that be.So this new team, they weren’t from Blackwood.And who was more powerful than Blackwood?The US government.

Harrison and Markovich.

The past three years had marked a new era in relations between America and Russia.From what I’d seen on the news, Harrison had proven to be a more competent negotiator than his predecessor, while Markovich understood that more could be achieved by cooperation than through war.Every time a new treaty was announced, or a pact, or an agreement, I’d chuckled into my horilka because I knew Zacharov would hate it.Hopefully, he was turning in his grave.Hole.Whatever.

How had Zacharov fit in politically?Well, he was all for globalism, as long as Russia was at the head of the table, and he’d used every trick in the book to get us there.Did he want tositat the table?No, no, not in the slightest.He preferred to remain in the shadows.Everybody knew that was where the real power was.

Would Zacharov have stolen the weapon Ottie had helped to develop?In a heartbeat.If he hadn’t been dead, he’d have been at the top of my suspect list.But Alex assured me hewasdead, so who was left?Not Markovich or Harrison, because they appeared to be working together to retrieve the weapon.So…their opposition?And let’s go with the Russian side because that was where Moscow had come from.

Ivan Bornik had a following, but he was an idealist.A dreamer.He’d been in legal trouble before, but for stupid things like vandalising an oil tanker.It made him a hero in the eyes of some, a fool in the eyes of others.Anton Stepanov was the snake.A protégé of former president Lagunov, he was a hardline nationalist.More than once, I’d seen him at Base 13, and he shared many of Zacharov’s ideals, but not his love of darkness.No, Stepanov preferred the limelight.

If I was a betting woman—and I’d once been a damn good poker player—I’d put money on him being involved somehow.

When the trio remained silent, I continued in English.

“This is an awkward situation we find ourselves in.Your boss didn’t warn you Ottie had protection?”I shook my head.“Oh dear.But now that you’re here, I do have a question or two.You see, we want our property back.”

“We give you nothing.”The driver spat at me, but the glob fell woefully short.“American bitch.”

I suppose I needed to take that as a compliment.I had put alotof work into my accents over the years.

“Américaine?Non, je suis française.”Oh, that puzzled him.“Just a little joke.”

“We know nothing,” the Mule tried, and perhaps it was true.He was a lackey, a sidekick.

“I thought that might be so, in which case, you’re disposable.”I shrugged, nonchalant.“Easier to dig a hole out here than transport you somewhere else, especially if you have no useful information to give us.Isn’t it nice in the forest?So peaceful.Not another living soul for miles, rats excepted.But maybe you could satisfy my curiosity on one thing before we part ways?”

I drew two syringes from my pocket, and the milky-white contents gleamed in the afternoon sun that sliced through the window.Someone had cleaned the glass since I last came here.The police, probably.They’d have needed all the light they could get during their time in the cabin.Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Emmy lean forward an inch.She was curious too.

“What’s in these?”I asked.“Let’s find out, shall we?”

I took a step forward, and I saw it.The flash of fear in Moscow’s eyes.He knew exactly what was in the syringes, and he didn’t like the idea of being a test subject.

“You think you can threaten us?”the driver snapped with the arrogant pride typical of a low-level foot soldier.All brawn and no brain.“I won’t talk.Never!”

“Suit yourself.”I leaned in close.“And I don’t make threats.I make promises.”

He struggled, but I found a vein, drew the plunger back until I saw blood, and then injected.Out like a fucking light.

“Oops.Guess it wasn’t a vitamin shot.”I held up the remaining syringe and uncapped it.“Who’s next?I only need one of you, so…” The driver twitched, and I turned to Alex.“Would you mind taking out the trash?We don’t need him anymore.”

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