the table, his weight balanced on his tightly folded right leg. His left leg was extended full length parallel to the tabletop – in this position, he could easily shift from one leg to the other without lifting his head above the barricade. He cocked his left arm at eye level in front of him in preparation to block an attack from above.
Kilkenny caught sight of the Krinkov’s short barrel near the top of the barricade. When six inches of the stocky assault rifle were visible, he sprang up and struck the barrel of the weapon with his left elbow, pushing it away from him. Rising up, he coiled his left arm around the Krinkov like a snake until he grasped Leskov’s left wrist from below.
Leskov squeezed the trigger as Kilkenny trapped the Krinkov between his arm and torso. The barrel flared red hot, vibrating against Kilkenny’s ribs as a rapid series of explosions blazed within its milled steel barrel.
Continuing with his upward momentum, Kilkenny twisted his torso counterclockwise, pulling the erupting weapon forward and Leskov off balance. Kilkenny’s right arm swung fluidly with the rotation of his upper body, the palm of his hand held flat in search of a target.
He struck at Leskov’s head, ramming the heel of his palm into Leskov’s face with such force that the Russian’s nose folded over against his right cheek. Still pulling Leskov forward, Kilkenny used his elbow to cave in Leskov’s eye socket.
Leskov howled in pain. Coiled like a spring, Kilkenny snapped back in the other direction, yanking Leskov over the barricade and driving him headlong into the vinyl-tile floor.
Holding tight on the Krinkov, Leskov pulled the weapon free as he fell. As soon as he hit the floor, Leskov pointed the barrel upward and drove it into the soft tissue of Kilkenny’s left armpit. Kilkenny recoiled, a numbness like an electrical discharge racing from shoulder to fingertip. Leskov dug the barrel in deeper, wedging it in the underside of the shoulder joint, separating the bones of Kilkenny’s shoulder. With his left arm now free, Leskov rolled clear as Kilkenny fell back, clutching his damaged limb.
Leskov clambered to his feet, keeping some distance between himself and Kilkenny, took aim with the weapon, and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Nothing. Furious, Leskov grasped the Krinkov, swung it up over his head like a club, and charged Kilkenny.
Kilkenny backed away, protecting his left shoulder. As Leskov charged, Kilkenny slipped to his right, moving out of Leskov’s path and into his blind spot. Crouching with all his weight balanced on his right foot, he snapped a devastating kick with his left leg into Leskov’s groin. Leskov doubled over, screaming an unintelligible epithet; the Krinkov clattered to the ground.
From the same position, Kilkenny folded his leg back, thigh against abdomen, and kicked again, this time snapping the outside edge of his foot straight into the side of Leskov’s knee. The joint buckled, and Leskov lost his balance, toppling over in front of Kilkenny. As Leskov fell, Kilkenny reached out, grabbed a handful of his hair, and drove the Russian’s head into the floor.
He reset his stance, ready to strike again as Leskov lay motionless. In the corridor, the sound of gunfire drew closer; then, after a fierce exchange, it stopped. Two Alphas stepped over Malik’s body in the corridor and entered the lab with weapons trained on Kilkenny. Kilkenny gingerly raised his arms in surrender.
‘Kilkenny!’ Fydorov shouted as he followed the Alphas into the lab.
Fydorov said something in Russian, and the Alphas turned their weapons away from Kilkenny. One of them quickly checked Leskov for a pulse, then turned to Fydorov and shook his head.
‘So, at least you’re still alive,’ Fydorov said.
‘Yeah, so’s Avvakum. She’s holed up in her office. How’s Cooper?’
‘Dead, I’m sorry to say. We found him with Orlov’s mistress, Zoshchenko. She was shot as well but may yet live.’
‘What about Orlov?’ Kilkenny asked as he retrieved the Glock and set it in the holster.
Fydorov shook his head. ‘Haven’t found him yet.’
Kilkenny groaned as he rolled his head in a wide circle, stretching the tightened muscles in his neck. His shoulder ached. Then he noticed another of the mirrored half domes in the ceiling near the corner of the lab.
‘Security camera. Have you taken the security office yet?’
‘ Da, just a moment ago.’
‘There are cameras all over this building, inside and out. If he’s still here, we should be able to spot him.’
66
Moscow, Russia
After pulling Avvakum free of the makeshift barricade in her office and placing her under the protection of the Alphas, Kilkenny and Fydorov worked their way down to the security office on the first floor. Though they still heard occasional bursts of gunfire, the assault on Orlov’s building was nearly over.
Several corpses lay where they had fallen in the corridors. Visual evidence of the intense battle for the first floor – spent shell casings, bullet-scarred walls, and scorch marks left by flash-bang stun grenades – was strewn everywhere, and the air was heavy with the acrid scent of recent gunfire. Corpsmen were carefully removing the wounded Alphas, and a triage had been established at the building’s loading dock. Gear removed from the injured Alphas lay in a pile by the wall.
‘Here, put this on,’ Fydorov said as he handed Kilkenny a black, Kevlar-plated vest from the pile. ‘This way my people won’t think you’re one of Orlov’s men and fuck with you.’
‘Will do,’ Kilkenny said as he carefully worked the vest around his injured shoulder.
They cut through the loading dock and made their way to the security office. Along the concrete wall, Kilkenny saw a flush stainless-steel door and frame. The door had no visible hardware except for a keypad mounted on the wall to the left.
‘That a vault?’ he asked.
Fydorov threw a quick glance at the door. ‘Could be. We’ll open it up later.’
Kilkenny and Fydorov passed the armory and entered the monitoring room. Banks of small, black-and-white closed-circuit video screens filled the wall above the operator console. Rows of numbered buttons lined the console, each tied to a remote camera, in addition to the joysticks and sliders that allowed the operator to pan, tilt, and zoom the cameras. Kilkenny studied the monitors – black figures passed across a few of them, but the rest showed empty corridors and offices.
An Alpha entered the security suite, walked up to Fydorov, and said something in Russian. Fydorov nodded and turned to Kilkenny.
‘At the moment, I am needed elsewhere. Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.’
After Fydorov left with the Alpha, Kilkenny started punching the numbered buttons and cycling through a series of preprogrammed views. The first set of buttons covered the building’s exterior, rooftop, and entry points. He left those on, as they were the only way in and out of the building, then began looking at the interior camera views on the remaining monitors.
He visually swept through the building – section by section, floor by floor – but Orlov was nowhere to be seen.
‘He’s got to be hiding somewhere,’ Kilkenny mused as he punched up the next camera series.
Four monitors flickered as linked cameras relayed images of their remote locations. The eerily lit images on two of the screens showed a long, narrow concrete passageway.
The fourth monitor showed a bright flash of light approaching the camera from a distance. The camera shuddered as the bright light quickly passed underneath, followed by a strobelike pattern of light and dark.
‘That looks like a subway.’ Kilkenny studied the image intently.
He turned his attention back to the previous series. Using the controls, he maneuvered the cameras and swept the length of the passageway. Zooming deep with the second camera, he detected some movement. A figure
