Gunner returned his attention to the front door, waiting for another attacker to emerge. Nobody appeared, and Cam wasn’t forced to shoot anyone attempting to escape. He followed the tracing laser to the hand of the first victim and kicked his gun away. He did the same with the other two attackers, who lay sprawled out in their blood, which was now pooling together on the floor.
Bear came lumbering around the wooden staircase and immediately charged toward the front door with his shotgun leading the way. Although it was dark, he seemed comfortable there were no other attackers.
“Clear,” he announced loud enough for Gunner to hear.
“Clear,” Gunner repeated. Cam’s shuffling footsteps could be heard until she bounded down the stairs to join the guys.
“Lights?” she asked.
Gunner thought for a moment. He was still uncomfortable with the body count. It was logical to assume there were eight attackers in the two vehicles, and he cursed himself for not being more observant when they’d raced passed them on the autobahn or as they’d crossed the barbed-wire perimeter fencing.
“I think we’ve killed six, leaving two in the woods who are wounded,” he replied. He eased into the kitchen. “Come in here and away from the windows in case the others decide to pick us off before they die.”
Bear and Cam walked backwards into the kitchen and then moved through to the bedroom hallway. Gunner turned on the kitchen light above the sink. That was when the three of them noticed blood along the concrete floor and rug runner leading to the bedroom.
“Cover the entrance,” Gunner ordered as he pushed his way down the hallway, leading with his sidearm. “Professor, are you back here?”
The man responded with a yes that sounded part groan and part gurgle.
Gunner felt his way to the bedroom and located the light switch. Von Zwick was slumped on the floor, sitting upright against the front of his bed. His right shoulder had been destroyed, and his arm was hanging on by a few tendons. His upper body was covered in blood.
Gunner grabbed a blanket off a nearby chair and wrapped it around the man’s shivering body. The loss of blood and trauma was causing the elderly man to go into shock.
“Hang in there. We’ll get you some help.”
Von Zwick used all his energy to force the words out. He shook his head back and forth, causing him to groan. “Nein. Ich sterbe.” No. I’m dying.
Gunner saw that it was hopeless. In this desolate part of Germany, it would be impossible to get him medical attention with this much blood loss. All he could do was comfort the man until he passed away.
“You’ve done great things, Professor von Zwick. You should be proud of your work.”
He flopped his head back and forth, indicating he disagreed. With each motion, more blood spurted out of the gaping hole in his body.
“There is more to do. My papers. In the barn. Finish.”
Gunner spoke calmly, but he didn’t have time to comfort the dying man any further. “We will. Please. Who are we looking for?”
“Odessa. Rome. Knight. Arggghhh.” His last breath sounded like a groan of pain, but in actuality, it was the most important information that Gunner needed to hear, but didn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Five
United States Embassy
Baku, Azerbaijan
As soon as Wagner arrived on the basement level, he heard the raised voices of two men arguing in their native Azerbaijani tongue. He immediately realized there was only one member of his team from the mostly Islamic country. He moved swiftly but quietly down the hallway to approach the open door to the boiler room, where he’d left his two operatives to finish up their work on the fire-suppression system.
He pressed his back against the wall just outside the door, carefully leaning forward to see who had confronted his operatives. The man, dressed in khaki pants and a white pressed dress shirt, held a two-way radio in one hand and a clipboard in the other. He immediately struck Wagner as the building superintendent.
The man was animated, waving the two-way radio around as he spoke. Wagner feared the facility manager would call for armed security. Because none of his team dared to bring any form of weapons into the embassy, including knives, they’d be almost helpless against the Azerbaijani soldiers who were tasked with protecting the embassy.
He leaned back against the wall and dropped his hands to his sides as he considered his options. That was when he felt it. He reached into his pocket and realized he’d inadvertently shoved the flathead screwdriver into his pants when he left the utility room. This was all he needed.
With expert, silent movements, he approached the man from the rear. He clasped his left hand around his victim’s mouth and jammed the blade of the screwdriver into the side of his neck until the shank was buried up to the handle. To finish off the kill, he pushed the handle forward and back to rip apart the man’s larynx and the upper part of his trachea. Seconds later, the unsuspecting facility manager choked on his own blood.
Wagner allowed the dead man’s body to slide to the ground. Just in case he needed it again, as a weapon or a tool, he extracted the screwdriver and wiped the blood off on the man’s white pressed shirt. Without a second thought, he shoved it in his pocket again for future use.
“Are you finished?” he asked Azizov calmly.
The new operative looked from the dead body to Wagner. “Almost. We have to return water pressure to the main valve and then clean up, um …” His voice trailed off as he glanced down again at the pool of blood that surrounded the dead man’s body.
“Don’t bother. Finish
