In the dim light of the security control room, Stas Petrovin had read the encrypted message downloaded from the local server and crumbled the paper in his hand. He glared at one of his men, staring straight through him, then shifted his attention to the bank of security monitors linked to state-of-the-art digital cameras positioned at all points of the compound.
Had he made a mistake in coming here?
“Issue a facility alert to all the men. Be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. No one comes or goes without me knowing about it.” Slowly, he shifted his gaze again, looking the man directly in the eye. “And I want a systemwide alert. We’re shutting down this location temporarily. The shipment we just sent out will be our final one until I make the call otherwise.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on it.” The uniformed man left the control room, leaving Stas alone with his thoughts and the handful of guards manning the security station. The room had grown nearly silent, the tension mounting. In the murky light, he felt the men’s eyes on him as he contemplated his next move.
After days of planning and the constant maneuvering to make sure he hadn’t been followed from Chicago, he had been ready to land and get his life back, carrying on where he’d left off. But now all that looked up in the air.
The online alert had been precautionary. His superior was a careful man, to be sure. And for the most part, he appreciated Anton Bukolov’s conservative nature. Globe Harvest had survived and thrived because of his wariness and shrewd manner.
No, he would not question what had transpired to make Bukolov anxious. Nor would he second-guess him. Who could blame the old man? He had anticipated fallout after the explosion of the Chicago facility, but this alert had come on the heels of a few tiring days with him on the run. He only wanted things to get back to normal, whatever that meant.
Somewhere within the organization, pressure had been applied, and like a lizard with its tail caught, sometimes it was better to sever an appendage to save the whole. Perhaps that was what Bukolov had intended, and he would give the old man the respect he deserved.
Petrovin got on the phone and called an extension in logistics. When the call was answered, he recognized the voice of the man on the line.
“A mere precaution, but make sure my helicopter is fueled and hidden away from the compound. You know the location. Do it now, Mitchell.” Without waiting for the man’s reply, he ended the call, accustomed to giving orders.
Similar to what had happened in Chicago, he would ensure he had a way out and be prepared for any eventuality, a prudent move on his part. But the success of his mission would be paramount. He would protect Bukolov and the organization at all cost. If he had to evacuate
No hostages. And no witnesses.
The face of the blond girl wavered in his mind. Although she showed backbone and had stood out from the rest, she would be a casualty, pure and simple. One way or another, he’d be dealing with her. After a quick look at his watch, he knew the girl’s time was nearly upon him and he must prepare her soon. Dismissing her from his mind, Petrovin headed for the door with one thought lingering.
All men stared death in the face. Ironically, it was a part of life. And when his time came, he didn’t want to die a feeble old man. No, that would be unacceptable. He wanted his passing to be memorable, perhaps in the line of duty. Being second in command and strangely indifferent to his own mortality, he had chosen to live his life on a razor’s edge and hoped he’d have similar control in the manner of his death. At least, he hoped it would be so.
Rank had its privileges…and its cost. And he embraced both.
During the flight, Alexa had changed into a battle dress uniform in camo and set aside other gear and the weapons she would bring. She sat across from Garrett, who was reading the
Alexa shook her head and fought a smile, then glanced out the window.
By checking the position of the sun, she figured they were heading west, but that was all she had. Soon he’d brief her about where they were going; until then Garrett Wheeler would revel in his surprise, as he always did.
But she was no stranger to the concept of keeping secrets herself. She had Tanya Spencer working something personal for her, so when her cell phone vibrated, she suspected the call might be from her. On her cell phone display there was a disturbing text message from Tanya.
The night she met the bounty hunter face-to-face at her apartment, she’d been given a way to contact the woman if something came up. Having Jessica Beckett’s cell phone number had its advantages, her GPS location being one of them. That night, she’d had a hunch that having a means to track the bounty hunter might eventually pay off. And apparently her ability to read Jessica had been dead on. According to Tanya, Beckett had left Chicago and was heading west via airplane.
Alexa found it ironic that in a world filled with technology, she relied most on her instincts for human nature as the best tool in her arsenal of tricks. And something in her gut had told her that Jessica wouldn’t stay put in Chicago, waiting for a status call. But being right wasn’t much consolation. Where in the hell was the woman going?
She’d never seen anyone more stubborn—except when she looked in the mirror.
She deleted the text message and stowed her cell phone, making sure Garrett hadn’t noticed. Being on her own mission left her no time to fret over Beckett, but she couldn’t help the fretting part. She respected the bounty hunter’s abilities, even though her methods were often questionable. But somewhere along the way, she found herself liking the woman—completely unacceptable.
If Jessica Beckett got killed because she was in over her head, Alexa didn’t want to feel responsible. But she knew it was already too late for that.
Savoonga, Alaska
St. Lawrence Island
Dusk AKDT
Payton had helped her pack for the trip, making sure she brought the bare essentials and enough layers of clothing to keep her warm. Their trip from Chicago to Alaska would gain them three hours, giving Payton enough time to arrange for a private charter, make a few other logistical calls, and get them to the island before nightfall. She understood his sense of urgency, even in the face of a staggering wall of unknowns.
Since the village of Savoonga was centrally located on the island of St. Lawrence, he had elected to fly there. It had been a long flight, but she hadn’t slept much on the small plane, only fitful dozes. She had too much on her mind and her past bubbled to the surface again, threatening a repeat of her recurring childhood nightmare. But she’d refused to succumb.
Now their plane was preparing to land and made a pass over a sparse airstrip near Kookoolik Cape on the Bering Sea, the island’s northern coastline. The sky was overcast and metal gray, giving the land a drab and listless feel. Barren tundra with small ponds and marshy areas dotted the landscape below. And from what she could see, dwellings were built for function rather than aesthetics, and butted up against one another in clusters between worn dirt trails. The word “bleak” came to mind.
When Jess gazed down at the tight grouping of houses and buildings that represented the whole of the community, the plane lurched when it hit an air pocket. Her stomach leapt too, but not only because of turbulence. She’d never seen a community like this, so foreign to what she knew. Payton wasn’t kidding about roughing it. At that moment she felt she had no business being here, though she wasn’t about to admit it to him.
“Did you know that from the western tip of the island you can actually
She spoke loud enough to be heard over the engine and forced a smile. She explained to Payton that the International Date Line crossed between the western tip of the island and the Siberian coastline, allowing a person
