American Law (Law #2) (12 page)

Chapter 21

Lucas sauntered into Jim’s office. The man sat behind his desk reading through his emails. He hadn’t wanted to leave Elena, more than willing to crawl back into bed with her, but he had to work. He hadn’t been prepared for her impromptu visit.

Once the situation with Dmitry stabilized, he would ask for a couple days off to sweet-talk her into staying. He hoped after last night groveling wouldn’t be necessary, though he was prepared to do or say anything. He needed her in his life. Her mere presence filled him with love and happiness. Despite Dmitry’s circumstances, Elena walking through his door was the best day of his life.

He was one step closer to having everything he could ever want.

His boss looked up as he stepped close and swiveled his chair, turning it toward the printer where he picked up a fresh piece of paper off the feeder and handed it to Lucas.

“Here’s the information you requested about Sean Michael Henry, hot off the press. I won’t ask you how you came about this name. I doubt if it just fell out of the sky.”

Lucas nodded. “Good idea. Thanks, Jim.”

James waved a hand in dismissal. “I didn’t do it for you, Lucas, you know that. I like Elena. Have since the day I first spoke with her and I’m sure I will like this Dmitry as well when I eventually meet him. One hell of a family, no doubt.”

He quickly skimmed what the tech guys downstairs had found on Sean Henry. The address was the same as the one on his driver’s license. He read the list of charges and arrests on his rap sheet, including several small stints in a federal prison.

“I know this goes without saying but I’ll say it anyway. He’s not the type of man you want hanging around or sniffing about,” Fitzgibbon continued as he read. “You may want to let your answering machine know.”

Lucas didn’t need to be told twice. He already had his phone out and was dialing his house number before James had finished speaking. He listened to it ring before his answering machine picked up. Elena was probably screening his calls. He spoke into the machine, asking for her to pick up. After a few seconds, when it was clear neither Elena nor Dmitry were going to answer, he hung up and tried the number again.

He didn’t like this. After reading Henry’s file, his discomfort only increased. Sean Henry wasn’t the type of man he’d call intelligent. There was someone out there making the decisions, someone with brains. Henry was hired muscle, and dangerous muscle at that. He heard the machine pick up again and swore eloquently.

Where the hell are Dmitry and Elena?

Chapter 22

Dmitry made his way through the throng of researchers and visitors and took a seat in an isolated area of the circular reading room beneath the pale blue domed ceiling of the Library of Congress. He’d chosen the library for its grand size and because he could easily blend in and get lost in the crowd, should there be a need.

He pulled out Elena’s laptop from his backpack and hooked it up to the library’s free Wi-Fi. He accessed the Internet, bringing up the program he had created the night before. One that would confuse any tracers for a small period of time. It wasn’t the best, but it would do. He needed all the help he could get. He only had one chance at collecting the information he desired and knew that what he was after would provide the answer and bring about the proof of his innocence.

He started the program. Once a trace was detected, the software would send the technical operator a series of incorrect locations all around the world. It would only last five minutes—four if the tech was good—before his real location was discovered.

Dmitry made himself comfortable, looking about the reading room. No one was paying him any special attention so he continued typing in the commands.

Time to get this party started.

He once more accessed the Pentagon’s mainframe. The security was tighter but still ineffectual against him. He brought up the administrator’s profile he had created before under GreyHat01, somewhat surprised it hadn’t been found and deleted, and made his way deep into the internal data banks and typed Sundown into a search box. He added a few other key words such as
implement
and
protocol
for good measure, in case Sundown alone wouldn’t give him the specific results.

He prayed he would find what he was looking for since he risked a lot to do so. Sifting quickly through useless search results, he was left with four pages of information. He skimmed through each of the pages before finding what he was after on the third: a complete list of those involved in the inception of Sundown
from design to execution. He sent the data to his iPhone knowing he would barely have enough time to get out of the building before the agents arrived.

Returning his fingers to the keyboard, he searched through cyberspace and entered the dark web where the stain of humanity roamed. He didn’t have much time—two minutes, tops—before he had to get out of there. He had no doubt whatsoever that the men with guns were on their way here now.

Money. It is always about the bloody money.

As they said in the movies, follow the money. They were right.

He found what he was looking for, briefly skimming over the words on the page, and absorbing the information before closing down the laptop and returning it to the backpack. Knowing what he did now, he had something to bargain with—something other than Sundown. He felt a lot better, almost like normal again. Rising calmly, as if he had all the time in the world, he made his way between the arched desks and toward the door.

He descended three sets of staircases to the street and crossed the road to the small park and sat down on a bench that looked out toward the library. He watched as three black government issued vehicles pulled up outside, red and blue lights flashing within the grilles.

Accessing his phone, he brought up the downloaded material. He scrolled through the pictures of the people privy to Sundown. Distinguished looking men peered back at him, one of who had organized the theft of a highly classified document. He listened to the shouts of the team of government agents swarming over the steps of the library as he read the brief bios of the men. None of them sounded like the person he would have thought was involved, but how could he be sure? Human nature couldn’t be measured.

His cell phone vibrated and the caller ID showed Lucas calling. He hoped he had good news.

“Where are you?” Lucas demanded, his voice brimming with worry.

Oh God, what now?

“At the library.”

Lucas let out a deep breath. “Is Elena with you?”

“No. Why?”

If anyone should know where Elena had gone, it was Lucas. The two were practically joined at the hip now. He shuddered at the thought that popped inside his head. There were just certain things a brother shouldn’t think about when it included his sister.

“I just got home, and when I got here, the kitchen door was open and it looks like there was a struggle. They’ve got her, Dmitry. The son-of-a-bitches have her.”

Something thudded loudly. He could practically feel the anger vibrating off every word Lucas spoke. If they couldn’t find Elena, there was only one viable reason, and that was not a pleasant thought. He gulped, his stomach churning, not wanting to think about what Henry and his men could be doing to his sister. He tried to clear his head and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself.

“They won’t hurt her,” he said, not quite believing it. “Not while I’m still at large, at least. They want me, not her.” His heart hurt knowing she was in danger.

“These people won’t stop at anything to get you to do what they want you. Just look at your friend Ivan.”

Dmitry heard a car door slam shut right before the engine caught.

“Which library are you at?” Lucas asked.

“Congress. Outside the main entrance to the Thomas Jefferson Building.”

“What are you doing?” Lucas started, before exhaling deeply. “Never mind. You can tell me when I get there. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

Chapter 23

She was floating
in a sea of ecstasy. Her entire body felt as weightless as a feather. She felt giddy—almost as if she was drunk. Giggles bubbled up from inside her like champagne. It was almost as if she was having an out of body experience and wondered if at any time would she float above her body and look down at herself.

She arched her back as she felt his tongue glide up her body starting at her belly button and moving up her neck before it turned into a delectable kiss. She tasted him and breathed his masculine scent into her. Her toes curled. Her breath hitched and she struggled to breathe. She had never felt this way before. This was as close to heaven as she could get while she was still alive—and she was alive.

So very alive. Every nerve screamed as he touched her. His fingers left scorching marks in their wake. She thought she would be burned up by sheer pleasure. She watched his face as he leaned over her. His eyes dark with passion as he kissed her again and again.

“Lucas,” she said softly, reaching out to him. Her eyelids were heavy. She found herself unable to open them and could smell the tangy scent of men’s body odor. She struggled to move. Her body felt weighted down, but she could have sworn there was nothing on top of her.

They moved rapidly along a road. The cacophony of heavy traffic surrounded her. Honking horns, tires screeching and men cursing. The car went over a pothole and jarred her. Pain raced up the length of her arm and darkness swam around her as she attempted to fight it off.

“Lucas,” she whispered again, her head moving back and forward slightly as she fought to regain complete consciousness.

“Looks like someone is waking up.” A man spoke, and she guessed he sat in the front of the car. The voice sounded familiar to her foggy brain. Her head pounded and her throat was sore. What the hell happened to her and why did she feel so tired?

She tried to open her eyes again and failed. Exhausted from the effort, she moved her head slightly to alleviate the ache inside. The sun against her face heated her skin.

Good. Maybe I haven’t been out that long
. Not unless it was the next day and she had slept through the night.

“Better move quickly,” the man’s companion said. “I don’t want to have to fight the bitch again.”

Another familiar voice. Her sluggish mind tried desperately to come to an answer. Where was she and how did she get here? Why couldn’t she remember and why did she feel so heavy? Elena tried to move her hands and found them to be bound together. She moved her body and felt a tingling numbness and her memory came rushing back. She’d been alone at Lucas’s when two men had broken in, and she fought them only to fail.

The sound of a cell phone camera taking a photo penetrated the fogginess. She had no doubts as to the subject.

“If she gives us any more trouble we’ll just give her another shot of the taser,” the first man said.

That explained her current circumstance. The bastards had knocked her unconscious. She would have to pay them back for that later once she got to her feet and wasn’t feeling so nauseous.

She had no idea where she was or where she was going. The only consolation she had was that she knew the men wanted Dmitry and not her; she was just a means to an end. She hoped they weren’t stupid enough to harm her, at least not until they had Dmitry.

“I’d rather just shoot the bitch if she tries anything. Hear that, bitch? Don’t you go doing something stupid, all right?”

Her foggy brain placed the sound of his voice. Dmitry’s benefactor. The man who’d killed Ivan. The pieces she had been missing clicked back into place.

Elena ignored the man. She would have to be dumb to promise something so ridiculous. She would make as much trouble as she could to escape before they got their hands on her little brother. She had begun entertaining some rather painful moves against her captors, and she would enjoy every single one.

“Just call Ivanov,” the first man said. She remembered him as being an older gentleman. A man who had held himself with power, a man she knew she should recognize.

The sound of the cell phone’s buttons being pressed filled the small space. The hair on her arms stood at attention as she heard the voice on the other end answer.

Chapter 24

Dmitry followed Lucas closely as he stormed into the office at Langley. An older man glanced up in surprise, his gaze falling on him after sweeping over Lucas’s infuriated expression. His gut clenched as anxiety ate away at him. This was the last place he wanted to be, but Elena’s well-being was on the line so he pushed aside his fears. Well, almost—his hands shook slightly as he waited for handcuffs to be tightened around his wrists, though rationally he knew that wasn’t about to happen. Lucas wouldn’t have brought him to the heart of the CIA if that had been a concern, and so far no one had attempted to take him into custody.

It was bigger than him now. Sean Henry had made a grave mistake. No one hurt his sister and walked away. If they wanted a fight, they’d gotten one. Neither he nor Lucas would ever back down.

“I’m not bringing him in,” Lucas said as Dmitry closed the door behind him.

He caught the older man’s gaze, expression blank, despite the overwhelming urge to squirm beneath his commanding presence.

The man leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t even entertain the thought. I know you too well, my friend. Why is he here? If you’re looking for a safe house, might I suggest another location?” He frowned, his jovial attitude dissipating as the anger radiating off Lucas’s body seemed to reach him. Dmitry knew the agony Lucas experienced because he felt the same. He was a man being torn apart. “What’s happened?”

“The bastards have Elena,” Lucas replied, speaking through a clenched jaw as he tried to keep his temper in check, his expression turning savage. There was no doubt in his mind that when Lucas found the men holding the love of his life, he would make them beg for mercy.

“What?” The older man exploded in fury. “When did this happen?”

“Sometime this morning.” Lucas turned to him. “Dmitry, get on Jim’s computer and locate her cell phone GPS. Use his access to get a fixed satellite position. I want to know exactly where she is.”

Jim raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. There would be no arguing or bargaining with Lucas at the moment.

Dmitry moved to stand beside Jim, then leaned over him and readjusted the keyboard to accommodate his position.

“Excuse me,” he said as he began to pull up a satellite search program. He typed in Jim’s user name and password without having to ask for them.

“Jesus Christ,” Lucas’s boss muttered, realizing Dmitry had cracked the code in less than two minutes. “Certifiably dangerous is what you are, son. Thank goodness you’re one of the good guys.”

He didn’t have time to express what Jim’s words meant to him, the knowledge he had another ally, but his relief was almost euphoric, and his body sagged as his knees weakened. One thought of Elena had the tension returning.

He deftly entered his sister’s cell phone number in the allotted field. A red box appeared on screen saying
‘
No Hits Found
.
’
He turned to peer over his shoulder at Lucas. “It’s not currently turned on. The last place it was on, she was right here.”

“Right,” Lucas said. “Elena checked her messages here before speaking briefly with Mishkin yesterday. What about before that?”

Dmitry once more consulted the map before him on the computer screen. He hit a few keys before answering. “The GPS stops there. On and off within ten minutes, previous location was Moscow. She would have turned it off for the flight.” The computer binged, alerting them to a new development. “Whoa, wait a sec, it just came back on.”

The phone was in transit, moving fast along the Beltway heading north. Dmitry barely had time to lock the satellite onto the phone before his cell began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. Elena. He answered the call, putting it on speaker.

“Elena?”

“Mr. Ivanov, good to finally get a hold of you,” the caller said. Dmitry recognized the voice as the man who had shot Ivan.

“Sean Henry?”

“Shit, you are good,” the man said before his voice turned hard. “Now, listen up here, comrade. I’m sending you a photo. Do as I say or another will follow, one that will be less pleasant.”

His phone vibrated as the photo arrived. He clicked on the screen of his iPhone to open the message and immediately wished he hadn’t. He ground his teeth together as the picture appeared on his cell screen. Elena was laying unconscious on the backseat of a car, her face pale, and he could see the beginning of a bruise on her throat.

Lucas looked over his shoulder at the photo and his face contorted with rage. He tried to snatch the phone away from him, but Dmitry moved away out of his reach. Lucas looked downright homicidal, and at that moment, Dmitry knew without a doubt that his friend loved Elena. It was more than just a roll in the sack for him. He already knew she loved him more than anything—maybe even more than Nikolai. It had almost killed her when Lucas had flown home, yet she took pains not to show it. He only hoped they got their chance at happily ever after.

“If you hurt her, I will find you, Henry, and inflict the most painful torture techniques known to man on you. Remember, I’m Russian, so I know all the good ones. That’s why you wanted me, right, because of my nationality? God help you if you don’t release my sister.”

“Touching, really,” Sean answered snidely. “It all comes down to you, comrade. You meet my man out in front of the Lincoln Memorial in half an hour—alone—and follow his instructions, and I promise I won’t hurt your sister. Don’t do as I say, and I’ll find some men who’ll really have some fun with her. She is quite beautiful, you know.”

Lucas made another attempt to get the phone. Dmitry sidestepped, putting Jim between him and Lucas. He wondered how much the man knew. Was he aware that the house he took Elena from belonged to a CIA Agent? If so, he was overly confident. Only he’d miscalculated. Lucas would do anything to ensure Elena’s safety. Hadn't he proved that when he’d taken on Dmitry? It was all over for Sean. He just didn't know it yet. There was no place he could hide that Dmitry wouldn't find him.

“I’ll play nice,” he told Sean.

“Good to hear, comrade. See you soon. Oh, and no tricks, you hear?”

No, not while you have the upper hand. Once we’re on even ground, though, you’d better watch out.

“No tricks.”

He wasn’t about to risk Elena’s well-being. Not for anything, including the security of a nation. He would gladly hand Sundown over on a silver platter if it meant Elena went free and unharmed. He would fix what was broke later. He’d devise a new protocol if he had to. One that would actually be safe and he wouldn’t go and advertise it on the mainframe, either.

Idiots. Had they no idea that cyberspace is one big shopping ground?

Dmitry hit the
end call
button and looked once again at the photo of Elena. Anger bubbled to the surface when he thought of her lying there helpless, bound and hurt. He took a steadying breath and dropped his phone down on the desk.

Lucas erupted, no longer able to keep his thoughts inside his head. “Dmitry, I’m not letting you go into this alone. Not while yours and Elena’s lives are at stake.”

“You don’t have much of a choice, Lucas,” Jim countered.

“We don’t have much time. I have to be there in thirty minutes, so unless you can come up with a better plan that won’t get Elena killed in that time, I’m going.”

Lucas nodded. “Here.” He held out his cell. “We’ll track you through the GPS.”

“Too big. It’ll be the first thing they’ll ask for,” Jim said.

In a moment of sudden inspiration, Dmitry took his own cell phone and threw it hard against the floor, the back splitting away from the cracked screen. He bent down, retrieved the phone and tore the back completely away and picked out what he wanted—the GPS chip that was smaller than his thumbnail. He moved back to the computer, typing commands, including the numerical code printed on the GPS device that he’d pulled from the phone. Lucas and Jim watched, speechless.

“Okay, this works just like the cell thing, okay? But instead it looks for the chip, not the phone.” He placed the GPS chip into the front right hand pocket of his jeans. “Don’t touch anything, and you can’t fuck it up.”

“I take offense to that,” Jim said.

“Charge me later. Add it to my never ending list. Don’t follow me and don’t do a thing to risk Elena. I mean it. Catching the bad guys isn’t worth her life. I’ll bring her back, Lucas, I promise.”

Lucas placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I know. She means the world to both of us. We can’t afford to lose her.”

***

Twenty-five minutes later, Dmitry parked Lucas’s car near the Lincoln Memorial. His long strides easily shortened the distance until he stood on the stairs leading to the monument, staring out at the Potomac.

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Tourists milled around, giving him a wide berth. Not that he blamed them. He knew what he must look like, with his dark Ray-Bans covering his eyes, his stiff countenance. Children squealed excitedly, racing past, not sensing the danger he represented. He wanted to be a tourist, too, exploring this magnificent city but first he had a sister and country to save.

A vehicle revved nearby, the choking exhaust catching his attention. A man stood beside a 1979 beige Dodge Aspen. Just his luck, the man glaring at him was the hired muscle he’d fought at the warehouse. He wore jeans, dark motorcycle boots, and a stained wife beater tank top which was in desperate need of a wash. The bulge of a weapon was visible beneath his shirt. His large muscles were decorated with tattoos running the length of his arms, and his eyes were hidden behind dark tinted sunglasses—most likely to dim the light against his damaged corneas. The man had gotten what he deserved.

When he reached the vehicle, the man, his face grim, opened the back door of the car, and indicated without words for Dmitry to climb in. He waited briefly, most likely searching the area for back-up, then got in beside him.

The driver, a man who lacked the same social and hygiene skills as the hired muscle, put the Dodge in gear and merged into the traffic. They rode in silence, listening to the sounds of the cars around them. They travelled roughly three miles down the road before the car veered off down an exit ramp and pulled into the parking lot of a 7-Eleven, and parked beside a set of filthy looking bathrooms.

The man looked at Dmitry and said, “Come on.”

Nervous, he followed without complaint, noting the man carried a plastic Wal-Mart bag. They walked up to the men’s restroom, and the man waited for Dmitry to precede him. He watched Dmitry like a hawk watching his prey, most likely waiting for a reason to strike at him. His employer had probably given him a no touching command—can’t break the fingers that would bring them Sundown, after all. Dmitry stepped inside and turned around to face the hired muscle, his hair again pulled back in a ponytail, waiting for the next set of instructions.

“Strip,” Ponytail said.

He paused, disbelieving what he heard. The man glared at him. “I said strip, you commie bastard.”

“You know you really should learn to be more P.C. I’m not a communist, nor have I ever been. I may be Russian, and you call me that or Dmitry, but you call me a commie again, Ponytail, and we’ll have a problem,” he said as he began removing his clothes.

“Whatever,” Ponytail said.

Let the man get his jollies by watching him undress. He had never been ashamed or embarrassed by his body. Not that he any reason to be; his body hard from working out at a gym, his muscles well-defined. He might not be as strong as Ponytail, but he was faster and smarter. Brains often beat brawn. It was just a matter of timing.

Once he was naked, Ponytail gave his body a cursory look before handing him a set of clean clothes he had retrieved from the Wal-Mart bag. Dmitry took the black sweat pants and Washington Redskins hooded jumper and repressed a violent shudder. If he had to die, the last thing he wanted to be wearing was sweats. And, Redskins? Had he not suffered enough?

Dressing quickly, he glanced at his discarded clothing. He should’ve anticipated they’d make him change. He’d merely been expecting a pat down. Returning to the car, his wrists were promptly bound in shiny new stainless steel handcuffs. He guessed now that they knew he had no weapon, and wasn’t wired, with no way to contact anyone, he could be taken to see Elena.