Skipper answered on thethird ring. “Listen to me, and listen good. If this is White,you’re playing games with the wrong—”
Anya shouted into thephone. “Skipper, it is me, Anya.”
“Anya? What are you .. . I mean . . .”
“Listen to me,Skipper. Tell me where you are. I need your help.”
“I’m at home inSilver Spring. Where are you?”
Anya scanned theenvironment around her. “I do not know, but I am close. I believethis is maybe Kansas Street or maybe Avenue.”
“In D.C.?”
“Yes, I think I amstill in Washington, D.C.”
Skipper’s heartpounded as if it were coming out of her chest. “Anya, are you hurt?Are you in danger?”
“I am not hurt, butyes, I am in danger. I need your help. I cannot get out of thisalone.”
Skipper gathered herwits. “What was the last street sign you saw?”
“I don’t know. Iwas riding north toward Silver Spring when I broke away and stolecar.”
“Oh my God, Anya.What have you gotten into? Who’s chasing you?”
“A federal policemancalled White.”
Skipper lowered hervoice. “Listen closely, Anya. I’ve triangulated your positionfrom your cell phone. You need to do exactly what I say. Open thehood of the car you stole. Find the hottest part of the engine, layyour cell phone on it, and leave the car running. If I can track yourphone, so can White. Have you got all of that?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. When you’vedone that, make your way due east across Kansas and Blair Road to thecommunity gardens. You’ll know it when you get there. Dig in, andkeep your head down. I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’ll be in ablack Land Cruiser. Do you know what that is?”
“No, but is okay. Iwill come to your voice.”
Skipper shoved herphone into her pocket and ran for her car. Twelve minutes later, sheleft the pavement at the end of South Dakota Avenue Northeast andfelt all four tires grip the soft, damp earth. Plowing throughprivate plots, she powered ahead until she believed herself to benear the center of the gardens. With a throw of the shifter and apunch of the sunroof control, she leapt from the seat and climbedonto the roof of the Land Cruiser. Drawing in a lungful of air, sheprepared to yell for Anya, but one glance to the northwest made thecall unnecessary.
She slid back throughthe sunroof and crushed the gas pedal, sending mud flying from allfour tires. Anya ran as if pursued by lions. Twenty feet apart,Skipper spun the wheel and threw open the passenger door. Withoutbreaking running stride, Anya dived through the open door and clungto the center console for her life. Skipper tapped the brake and thenaccelerated onto Sligo Mill. The transition forced Anya’s doorclosed as she crawled between the seats and into the rear floorboard.Skipper continued off-road again and onto the gravel of the railroadtrack bed. Accelerating alongside the tracks, she pushed the Toyota’ssuspension to its limits and prayed the car would survive long enoughto escape the enormous city surrounding them.
Running for the shorewith no boat waiting was the worst possible decision and the lastthing any rational pursuer would expect. Turning east through aneighborhood she didn’t recognize, Skipper held the accelerator tothe floor, and her prayers were answered. The car didn’t fail them,and just under an hour later, they crossed a narrow finger of waterinto a small fishing village.
“Okay, you can comeout. We’re clear of the city, and no one would expect us to behere.”
Anya climbed from therear floorboard and into the front passenger seat, scanning theenvironment around her as she moved like a snake. “Where are we?”
“We’re in a tinylittle place called Deale, Maryland, on Chesapeake Bay, and it’stime for you to tell me why a DOJ cop is chasing you through thestreets of D.C. and why it has taken you so long to contact us.”
“I will tell youeverything. I promise this to you, but first I need you to find alittle girl and her mother in Russia.”
Skipper moaned. “Oh,boy. This is about Viktor Volkov’s brother’s murder, isn’t it?”
“No,” Anya said.“This is about the life and safety of a little girl who wants morethan anything to come to America and never have to leave.”
22
ZAOCHNOYE
(ABSENTEE)
Skipper pulled theLand Cruiser into a dilapidated boatyard and nestled the vehiclebetween two rotting wooden fishing boats, making them all butinvisible to the curious onlooker.
Skipper pulled off hersunglasses. “You knew I’d save your butt from the trap you’vefallen into, but it’s time to come clean. You’ve been missing toolong to expect me and the rest of the team not to have somequestions, so let’s hear it. Where have you been?”
Anya’s story coulddrag on for hours, but as usual, she condensed it into theabbreviated, yet still accurate, narrative. “I was captured byofficers of your Justice Department after I killed those two men inSaint Augustine. My choices were go to prison for rest of life orwork for American government to shut down Russian mafia. One of therequirements was that I could not contact anyone from my former life,especially any member of team.”
Skipper dropped herchin and gave Anya a suspicious eye. “I’m not buying it. Thereare too many holes in that story. I know you were in Miami.”
Anya nodded. “Yes, Iwas there. My friend, Gwynn—”
“Oh, so now you’remaking new friends, huh?”
“Yes, she was notfriend at first, but she saved my life on yacht in Miami. She and Iput ourselves inside—I cannot remember word for this—Russianmafia in Miami and killed a man named Leo.”
“Infiltrated is theworld you’re looking for.”
“Yes, this is word.We infiltrated, killed Leonid Petrovitch, and captured AntonioAlvarez, a man who calls himself new Pablo Escobar.”
Skipper widened hereyes. “That was you?”
Anya slowly nodded.“Yes, me and my friend Special Agent Gwynn Davis.”
A thousand questionschurned in Skipper’s mind. “But if you’re working with the DOJ,why are they chasing you?”
Anya put on amischievous smile. “This is part you will love. Person in charge isSupervisory Special Agent Ray White. He told me to break any law
