Out Of The Night (19 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Moscow

Nicholas Belskavia walked out the front door of Boris’s apartment complex and approached Viktor. “Great night for a walk, don’t you think?”
he said.

Viktor’s heart sped up
at the sight of the man he’d known for thirty years. “What are you doing here?”

Nicholas pulled a flask out of his coat pocket and took a long swig.
Then he looked at the stars and chuckled. “I’m just enjoying the weather. Winter is gone and soon the skies will be blue again.”

Viktor stared hard. He was no fool. “I don’t believe you are out here enjoying the weather. It’s cold as shit.”

“Da, but soon it will warm up. It always does.” Nicholas looked at Viktor. “Why are you here? Who did you come to kill?”

“Who said anything about killing? I’m just waiting for my friend. That
’s all.”

Nicholas
stepped closer. “You will have a long wait.” He walked over, got into his car, and the driver sped away, leaving Viktor colder than he’d been earlier.

Viktor went into the building and up the stairs as fast as he could. Huffing, he pushed open the door only to find Petr sprawled out on the floor in a pool of blood. Nicholas had murdered his friend and comrade.

He took a quick look around. It appeared Boris had escaped as well. The question was, did Nicholas take the money and allow Boris to get away with his life, or did he let the queer boy get away with a fortune?

No matter the answer, Viktor would put out the word. Nicholas had to be stopped and searched. Viktor would demand anything found on him should be taken and returned to him
. Then they could do what they wanted with Nicholas.

Angry, Viktor stormed down the stairs to the waiting car. Tony Archuletta had created all this. If he’d only talked
, then there would be no need for violence.

Viktor halted. His harsh breathing formed a frosty mist in the front of his face. Maybe Nicholas had just told Viktor everything he wanted to know.

Viktor took out his phone and dialed a familiar number. When a man answered on the other end, he said, “Did you find Archuletta? Is he still alive?”

“Da,” Mikhail Yakoviev said. “Falcon agents killed three of our men, but I managed to get away. I asked the
locals, and I think Archuletta may be headed for Damascus.”

Damascus? Why go there? It didn’t matter.
Viktor was going to kill the Falcon agent. Then he would come back and kill Nicholas Belskavia. “I will be on the next plane. Meet me at the airport.”

Damascus

Youssef stepped off his plane and glanced at the bleak surroundings. He hated Damascus and all those who reside
d in the corrupt city. His father had been murdered here during a riot. A simple barber caught up in a fight he cared nothing about.

He met Ali and Faraj. Together they would
join up with Nadir then go to the place he had Joe Mitchell hidden. His heart pounded at the thought that he stood one step closer to destroying America.

After much trial and error
, his team of chemists had come up with the perfect pneumonia plague bacteria. One no antibiotics could kill. Airborne, it would kill millions without mercy. America would be the first infected, then Europe, while he and his family hid in a safe place. The only thing holding up his operation was the money to get the delivery system.

They’d taken years to perfect the necessary tools
, so no one would know what his true intentions were until there wouldn’t be enough people on earth to figure it out. Then those who escaped would know him as the absolute ruler of the world. Only Youssef could pull off such an advanced plot to destroy the infidels.

Ali Sarraf ran to him. “The house is very close by. A man by the name of Hussein owns the property. I’ve been told Joe Mitchell is hidden in their cellar.”

Youssef quickened his steps. So close. “We must hurry. Is the warehouse ready for the interrogation?”

“Yes, I have everything you requested
, and the building is in a desolate area. No one will hear anything.”

A black Mercedes pulled up
, and Ali opened the back door for Youssef. Inside the expensive car, the intoxicating scent of a brand new car made him smile. While he hated Americans and Europeans, he had to admit they knew how to create their precious luxuries.

Soon
, they drove down a dusty street to the designated address. He didn’t wait for the door to be opened. Instead, he stepped from the vehicle and walked toward the front door of the poorly constructed house.

Ali rushed forward and knocked several times. They waited. Youssef didn’t like to linger in such a neighborhood. The dogs and chickens running about disgusted him
, and he feared he’d be covered with dirt and fleas before getting back into the Mercedes.

After a long delay, Youssef nodded
, and Ali kicked in the door. Peering into the dark interior, he was surprised the occupants were no longer living in the house. His heart raced and sweat dampened the back of his shirt.

“No one is home, e
l Jibar. It’s appears they have moved.”

Youssef stepped into the cool, stone house
, and the stench of spicy food slammed him in the face. Disgusted, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against his nose.

Faraj moved about the room, kicking aside several toys left abandoned by the owners. “According to my sources, Hussein and his wife Hana live here with two children.”

“Where have they gone?”

Faraj shrugged. “The neighbors said they left in the middle of the night.”

“Ali, find the cellar.”

The three men moved quickly through the small home into a backyard where the rounded top of a cellar took up the far left corner. Racing, Faraj arrived at the opening first. He jumped down the steps and pulled on the handles of the double door.

Darkness greeted them…along with flies. Millions of insects buzzed around. Hope drained from Youssef’s body. He’d killed enough to know the stench of a dead body.

S
omehow, someone had managed to kill Joe Mitchell. Now he had nothing. Threads of disgust attacked his mind. He knew the dangers of using unprofessional morons. He knew Nadir would do anything for him, but he did not have the knowledge and the foresight to keep his prisoner safe and secure. Now he would kill him for failing to do his duty.

Faraj came up the stairs, a flashlight in his hand. “Nadir is dead.”

Youssef gasped. “What do you mean Nadir is dead? You are sure?”

Lowering his head, Faraj nodded. “I am sorry to say he no longer lives.”

“What about the American?”

Faraj stepped closer. “It appears there was a struggle
, and the prisoner beat Nadir to death with the chains used to secure him.”

“Nadir is not that foolish. He was a cautious man.”

“The American may be stronger than we first thought.”

“Perhaps, but I want you and Ali to go to every house. While there, question everyone. I want to know where Joe Mitchell is. He’s white
. He’ll stand out. We must find him before he gets so far under there will be no hope of capturing him again.”

Georgetown

Anita Mitchell wrung her hands until they were red. For days
, she’d shredded her self-respect to the point she couldn’t cry anymore. Tears refused to fill her eyes any longer. No, she couldn’t take it another minute.

She had to get hold of herself and figure how to make this horrible wrong right. Yes, she’d betrayed Joe
, and the guilt crushed her chest so hard she feared it would never end. The time had come to think rationally.

The shame that gnawed at her stomach had to go away. She’d never forget, but getting to a point she could live with her betrayal had to come. And in her broken heart
, she knew it would. Joe trusted her, and she’d not lived up to his expectations, but she knew enough about damage control to fix this mess.

She couldn’t do it alone, that much
was certain. So, as much as it scalded her pride, she picked up the phone and called Frank Hamilton.

When he answered on the first ring, she worried perhaps he had too much on his mind to deal with her little infidelity. Then she paused for a moment. She’d known Frank’s wife, held her hand when she died. They had a bond that
neither time nor problems could transcend.

“Hi Frank, it’s Anita Mitchell.”

“Hello Anita. How are you?”

If Frank knew about her affair with Brad
, he did a good job of concealing not only what he knew, but any judgment as well. “I have a problem I’d like to discuss with you if you have the time.”

“I always have time. What’s on your mind?”

“Joe is away.”

“I know that.”

“Well, there is this man who works in his office by the name of Brad Hall. He’s an agent Joe and I know slightly from the CIA.”

“Okay.”

She bit her bottom lip. “A couple of nights ago, I met Brad in a hotel. And before you get any ideas, I want to say everything.” She blinked back the tears she’d early felt had abandoned her.

“Anita, you talk and I’ll listen.”

“It’s not a long story.”

“Doesn’t matter. Feel free to speak your mind.”

“I had a one night stand with Brad. I regretted it immediately. I swear I did.” Tears rolled down her cheek. “I love Joe and don’t want to lose him.” She dabbed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Take it nice and slow, Anita. I’m here for you.”

“I know you are Frank, and I appreciate your friendship.”

“You were Patty’s best friend, and more importantly she loved you like a sister. I don’t think I could have gotten through her dying without you.”

“I loved her so much, Frank. You have to believe that.”

“I do. But now
, what can I do for you?”

“When Joe comes home
, I’m going to tell him everything and hope he forgives me. I’m willing to take that chance because I can’t live a lie.” She blew out a tense sigh. “My problem is Brad claims to have a video of us in the hotel room, and he’s threatening to show it not only to Joe, but Vince as well.”

“A video?”

“I can’t let that happen. It would bring so much shame to Joe, and he doesn’t deserve that.” A sob caught in her throat. “Brad also claims I said something confidential about Joe’s mission. But I didn’t Frank because I don’t know anything except Joe was scared and he knew there was an internal problem with the CIA that he planned to talk to Vince about when he returned.”

“I understand how you feel, Anita. I’m sure you and Joe can patch things up. I’ll take care of Brad.”

“Frank,” she shouted for fear he’d hang up. “I don’t want you to do anything rash. I just want you to handle Vince for me. Explain I’m not a bad wife…”

“Anita, put all this from your mind and concentrate on Joe coming home. I’ll handle everything else.”

“But Frank.”

“No, Anita, it’ll all turn out fine. Trust me.”

She gripped the phone and squeezed her eyes shut. “Thank you, Frank. Thanks for being such a great friend.”

Cairo

Covered in sweat,
Tony managed to get dressed in local garb. He slid his feet into sandals and looked at Abby. There was so much to remember about her. Her favorite wine, how her eyes sparkled when she laughed, that little black dress that drove him over the edge, and the innocent way she loved him so honestly.

And he loved her, but deep in the recesses of his befuddled mind hung a warning sign that something hadn’t been right between them. He blinked several times. The memory hid in the night darkness. So close, and yet millions of miles out of his reach.

A.J. put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I’m not sure Frank will let you do that.”

“Frank wants the job done. Plus, I’ll keep her safe.” He looked at
A.J. “She may be the only one that comes out alive.”

Arman stood between him and Abby. “I think
A.J. and I will be of more help than Abby. Isn’t it time we sent her back to the States?”

“Normally, you’d be right, Arman. But us traveling as husband and wife is far less suspicious than three men over six feet.” He pointed to
A.J. “And one looks as American as apple pie.”

Abby cleared her throat. “I’m okay with everything.” She folded her arms. “I mean, I’m all for seeing it through.”

“El Jibar is the most dangerous man on earth.” A.J. pointed a meaningful finger at him. “Don’t let him near her.”

The men shook hands. “Arman, make sure your man is at that checkpoint
, or we’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

“It’s been arranged.”

“Also, where is the neighborhood your friend mentioned a person might be hidden in a cellar?”