Last Snow - Eric van Lustbader [43]
“Come on,” he urged as she bent over the body. He saw her pocket his pistol and then her hands were busy with another task. “What the hell are you doing?”
She had one shoe on the man’s chest, her hand gripping the shaft of the weapon.
“For God’s sake, leave it!”
“No,” she said. “We have to take it with us.” With a great heave, she ripped the diamond-shaped point out of the flesh and fabric.
Then, regaining the dense shadows of the forest, they were off and running from the burning dacha and its complement of Security Service agents.
IT WAS Jack’s dyslexia that allowed him to lead them unerringly through the maze. As they had walked down the driveway on the way in, his mind had formed a three-dimensional map of the area surrounding the dacha. Their car lay just as they had left it, hidden beneath the screen of intertwined hemlock branches. He motioned them down and they sat on their hams while he listened and looked for anything out of the ordinary. It had been the crow’s absence that had warned him of people in the area. The bird would never have abandoned guarding its nest had it not been scared away by the surreptitious creep of huge creatures on the ground.
Still, he had them hang back while he moved cautiously forward, crouched and tense, his Mauser at the ready. Moving against the car, he pulled open the rear door, stuck the muzzle of the Mauser inside, but there was nothing to see. Climbing in, he stuck it over the driver’s seat back. The car was deserted. Checking the gearshift, he found the toothpick just as he’d left it. He let out a breath. No one had been in the car. Still, he checked the trunk before he signaled Alli and Annika that it was safe to approach.
Gathering Alli to him, he put her into the car. He turned, scanning the woods again as Annika rose and ran toward them. He saw a dim glint in the trees at the same instant a shot spun Annika around. She fell, and Jack, pumping off three shots on the run, grabbed her, hauled her to her feet and, one arm wrapped around her slim waist, brought her back to the car. As he maneuvered her into the backseat he could see the wound, which by its size looked like it had been made by a rifle bullet. He slid behind the wheel as floodlights began to appear through the narrow gaps in the hemlocks and pines.
He turned the ignition, put the car in gear, and sped out onto the road without turning on his headlights. In the rearview mirror he could see figures rapidly receding as he floored the accelerator. Several shots rang out but they either went wide or the car was already out of the range of their guns. He wondered briefly why the sharpshooter who had shot Annika wasn’t firing his rifle. Surely, they were still in his range.
“Alli,” he said as he drove over a rise, “see how badly Annika is hurt.”
Without a word, she climbed over the seat back into the rear, crouching beside Annika, who was lying on the seat.
“It’s her arm,” Alli said.
Jack risked a glance in the mirror. She hadn’t flinched or needed to turn away. Over the rise, he turned on his headlights, looking for a turnoff or a crossroads. The road reared up ahead, devoid of traffic. That wouldn’t last long, he knew. At this moment, the SBU was probably radioing their coordinates. Therefore, it was imperative they get off this road and change directions as soon as possible.
“Annika,” Jack said, “how are you doing?”
“Nothing broken, I think.” Her voice sounded faint or thin, as if she were far from him. “Just a flesh wound.”
“Nevertheless, we’ve got to get the bleeding to stop.”
“I know a doctor,” she said, “back in Kiev.” She gave him the address and the area of the city.
Jack signaled Alli and she scrambled back to the front seat. “The map I got from the rental office is in the glove compartment,” he said.
It took her a few minutes to locate the street Annika had named, then she traced a route in reverse to where they were now. Since she’d been the navigator on the way out of the city, she had