Zero Day_ A Novel - Mark Russinovich [118]
“It’s in there,” she said, indicating the small bedroom that was to have been Vlad’s office. “It’s in a box, I think.”
Jeff squeezed Daryl’s shoulder and went to find the external drive. He needed to do something about his arm soon. Blood was dripping on the floor.
Daryl looked about the stark apartment. It was growing dark outside and the city lights sparkled through the large living room window. “I’m so very sorry for all that’s happened.”
“This was to be our new home. We’d worked so hard to afford it. Now…”
“I understand.” Daryl did. She looked at the young women warmly. “Thank you for helping us. You are doing a great service to the world.”
“The world?” Ivana said bitterly. “What do I care for that? My world is all but dead.”
One-handed, Jeff dug an external drive from the bottom of one of the boxes. He looked for another, then carried it into the living room.
“We need to do something for you,” Ivana said matter-of-factly. “You’re bleeding everywhere.” She went to the kitchen, knelt, and dug around, returning in a few moments with bandages and tape. “Here. Take that off.”
Daryl helped as Jeff removed his jacket. Ivana tore the sleeve above the wound, dabbed away blood, placed a large bandage across the wound, front and back, then taped it in place. “This will hold you for a bit,” she said as she finished. “You should see a doctor, but if you do, he will know what this is and report you.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to ask, but is it possible to boot the computer to confirm the information is here?” Jeff asked. Daryl gave him a withering look. “I know the timing isn’t good, but I need to be certain. I wouldn’t want to come so far and not leave with the information.”
“It’s there,” Ivana said. “Vlad told me he kept all of his work in the external drive. It was an old habit with him. And he only had one.”
“I think we should go,” Daryl said, then turned to Ivana. “You must have family you can go to. Your mother?”
“Ahh!” Ivana said, putting her hands to her lips. She had not thought about her mother once. “My poor mother! Someone will have called her from the building, if only to warn her the militia might come.” She took out her cell phone. “I need to call.”
* * *
Manfield stepped off the elevator on the eighth floor. He’d seen the address on the boxes at the apartment and noted it along with the apartment number. Once the Lada had stopped here, he’d known where his targets would be.
He checked the door to the stairwell. It did not lock from either side. Excellent. He went up the final flight of stairs two at a time, slipping a fresh magazine into the pistol as he did. This would all be over in the next few minutes, and he was glad. He had missed the couple in New York and that bothered him. He was still puzzled at how the American couple could have come here, to the very place he had been sent, but reasoned they were after the information he was being ordered to destroy.
On the ninth floor Manfield eased the door open and saw the hallway was clear. He placed his hand on the Makarov. Now, he thought. Now.
The assassin stepped into the hallway and began examining the doors for numbers, moving with athletic grace, humming softly to himself.
* * *
Ivana spoke intently into her cell phone, fighting back tears. Jeff took Daryl aside and whispered, “I’d really feel a lot better if we knew the drive actually has the information.”
Daryl nodded. “So would I, but this isn’t the time. We can confirm it at the hotel. If it doesn’t, we come back here and check the computer. Okay?”
“I guess.” Jeff hefted the drive. This entire situation was ludicrous. Twice now he’d narrowly escaped death at the hands of a brutal murderer. In New York, with its violent reputation, he hadn’t been certain, but in Moscow there was no doubt. The man had murdered two people just seconds before attempting to kill him. If that bullet had been just a few inches to the left, he