Blades of Winter (43 page)

“Scarlet, straight 3,000. Hostiles seem to be breaking off pursuit.”

“Roger that, Darwin. Lovebird, what do you see?”

Lovebird comms, “Negative, Scarlet. I’m already on the ground.”

Darwin comms in. “Roger that, Lovebird, we’ll get you a ride. Raj, do you have a visual on pursuit?”

Raj comms, “Three vehicles full of competition just stopped in the middle of the street and reversed direction. I think we’re good, Shortcake. Keep going. I’ll cover your exit.”

I slow down and glance over at Winter. He’s white as a sheet and drenched in sweat. “Darwin, be advised the target may be having a heart attack.”

Darwin laughs. “Scarlet, be advised he’s not the only one.”

“Still with me?” I sneer at Winter.

He takes a few moments answering. “Yes, I suppose so,” he finally replies.

Winter and I are in an abandoned bunker outside of Riyadh. Back in town, Raj is patrolling the road that leads here to make sure Winter’s dogs don’t come sniffing around. Lovebird has found a quiet place to repair his wounded helicopter. He commed a few minutes ago, saying he should be in the air pretty soon. So far, the DTET is still drawing attention away from the Slaytona 500 we just smeared across the city. Sooner or later, though, the local authorities will know us by the trail of dead.

I try to mentally compel Lovebird to work faster so I can escape this country-size furnace. Poor Raj has to stay here for a few more days. He’s going to lurk around Riyadh to confirm that White Stone Research and the Darius Covenant were completely destroyed.

After Winter called off his people, I followed Darwin’s directions out of the city and parked my dune buggy behind a smashed-in corner of this blazingly hot bunker. It must be 130 degrees in here. My face is streaked with sweat, my throat is as dry as the Bible, and my legs are wobbling from all the Madrenaline I did today. Every few minutes my hands start to vibrate, and I have to drizzle some Kalmers to make them stop.

Now that this mission is almost done, I just want to go home and see Cleo. I miss the way she smiles when she smooths my hair away from my face. I catch myself
daydreaming about what I’ll look like when I’m her age. I wipe my face on my sleeve and shake my head to clear my mind.
C’mon, Scarlet, focus!

I keep watch by a window with a good view of the road. Except for that strip of dust-covered concrete, all I see is the bright blue dome of the sky covering a whole lot of nothing. It’s like being in a giant sand-filled frying pan that stretches to forever in all directions. I haven’t seen any vehicles drive by, but I still have to be wary. Even though Winter ordered his people to back off, some of them might take it upon themselves to keep looking for their boss.

Winter’s heart attack was only his reaction to the excessive quantity of stimulation. Being kidnapped, beaten up, and then scared shitless by a big dose of Scarlet’s wild driving techniques was too much for him. His face is still pale, but he’s lost that crazed I’m-about-to-die look. I’ve got him tied to a bench. He’s stared at me since I put him there. His rumpled, no-longer-white shirt is dark with sweat stains. His hair, although still gelled in place, is salted with sand and flaked with bits of debris from all the shit I ran the dune buggy through.

He’s about to say something, but then he thinks better of it. His eyes reveal some bitterness, but it’s mixed with something else. He’s checking me out, but his gaze lacks the urgency of plain old horniness. It’s more like how my martial arts coach used to look at the really talented kids in his class.

Neither of us speaks for a few minutes while I keep an eye on the road. Finally I say over my shoulder, “Cat got your tongue, Imad?”

“I find myself wishing your abilities were not so misguided,” he says.

“I could say the same about you, bub.”

“My destiny is clear, little one.”

“Destiny, my ass.” I turn from the window and growl, “What is your ‘destiny,’ anyway?”

“To remove se oppressive foreign regimes sat have enslaved my people.”

“So you can replace them with your own oppressive regime?” Finally, something to do with all the history I choked down at school.

Winter studies me for a moment and asks, “What makes you so certain sat would happen?”

“Because your people have always been ruled by power-crazed nut jobs.”

He grins. “We have sat in common.”

“We’ve only got one thing in common, jackass.” I stride across the room. “How did you capture my father?”

“Go to se Devil,” he replies.

Big mistake
.

My foot crashes into his groin like a wrecking ball. These German Youth boots are terrific for this. Winter cries out, tips over on the bench, and wheezes for breath. I pull out Li’l Bertha and press her barrel down on his right knee. “This crazy demon
bitch
asked you a question, motherfucker!”

He clenches his teeth while he sputters, “All right, all right. By Allah …”

I stand back. He stays on his side, groaning in pain. I nailed him good. Guys are total suckers for that move—one of the many reasons women make better spies.

Winter catches his breath. “As you and Extreme Operations have no doubt discovered, I needed technology from Carbon for my Darius Covenant.”

“Darwin,” I comm, “you can hear this, right?”

“Affirmative, Scarlet,” he comms.

I say to Winter, “Yeah, we figured that out. To generate your anaerobic bacteria faster.”

Winter raises one eyebrow. He didn’t know we’d uncovered that part. “Impressive,” he says quietly. He gingerly sits up straight. “My transactions with German intelligence brought me special privileges, but it was not enough to get me se clearance I needed. My contacts
refused to even discuss Carbon with me. Then your father created se opportunity I had been looking for.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “How’d he do that?”

“His actions during se oil embargo, specifically in Berlin, enraged se Reich. Sey promised anything to se person who could deliver se Beast of Berlin alive.” Winter leans back against the wall. He winces as little cartoon stars and planets orbit his groin. “Price was no object. Se bounty was enormous, but it was not money I wanted. I brought a proposition to my contact in se Abwehr. It was accepted, and I began looking for a way to acquire ExOps’ star Level.

“Your father was an excellent field agent—intelligent, fast, and capable under pressure. I observed him for years, as did many other people. Philip Nico was se target of many abduction attempts. All of sem failed, with dramatically fatal results. Clearly, to pursue Big Bertha was to sign one’s own death warrant. I decided to turn se game around. I would make
him
come after me. I felt it would be unexpected, even for him, to be lured in sis way.”

Christ
. I was eight years old at the end of the embargo. When my dad got captured, I was twelve. All those years, while Dad and I were going to Dairy Queen, this lunatic was planning the end of my father’s life.

Winter stares at my face. I’m sporting a ferocious scowl. I unfold my arms and plant my hands on my hips. The muscles in my throat are so tight that it makes my voice hoarse.

“Keep talking, bucko,” I grate. It’s difficult to listen to this story, but I know how it turns out.

Winter tries to wipe his face on his upper arm, but I’ve tied him too tightly. Sweat runs through his beard and down his neck. “Soon after I made sis decision, I was contacted by an American intelligence officer. He presented me with exactly se situation I had imagined. He sent Big Bertha after me and provided what I needed to capture him in perfect condition.”

My God, it was Fredericks’s idea
.

I comm, “Cyrus, you there?”

“Yes,” Cyrus’s comm voice says. “I’m here.”

“Did you hear that?”

“I did. See if you can get him to name the American officer.”

“But we know it was—”

Cyrus interrupts me. “The Justice Department needs Winter to say it, Scarlet. Ask him who it was.”

I rest my hand on the hilt of my knife, making sure Winter can see it, and demand, “Who was the officer?”

Winter licks perspiration off his lip. “He worked through his agents. I never knew his name.”

Of course this son of a bitch isn’t gonna make it easy
.

“Yes, you do, and you know what?” I snarl. “So do I.”

Winter narrows his eyes and sits very still.

“Lemme tell ya about that pal of yours, Winty. He’s so far up the food chain that he reports directly to the Executive Intelligence Chairman. When we found out about your goddamn petron bombs, the chairman turned to this man to plan our response.” I wave my hand over my head the way Jacques does when he tells a story. “You remember that giant-ass cruise missile? That was your pal’s idea! In fact,
you
were supposed to be under that sucker when it cratered your lab.” I lean in close and hiss, “
That
was his idea, too.”

Winter’s nostrils flare, and his eyebrows crawl toward his eyes like a pair of angry spiders.

I step back. “What was
not
his idea was pulling you out of there.” I poke my chest and shake my head. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”

Winter’s eyebrows press closer to his eyes. His grinding teeth radiate sharp screeching sounds.

“When was the last time you talked to him, Winter-green?”

Our ongoing surveillance of Fredericks’s comm calls tells us it was probably—

“Yesterday?” I yell. “No wonder he knew exactly when to bomb your mad scientist’s lair. Man, with friends like that, who needs—”

“All right!” Winter shouts. He’s really sweating hard now, and his face has turned pale again.

I comm, “Darwin, where’s that damn chopper? Winter looks like he’s having another coronary.”

“Lovebird’s on the way, Scarlet. ETA in three minutes. Keep going. You’re doing great.”

I tilt my head to one side and hold Winter’s glare. “Well?” I say.

“I will tell your superiors.”

I slap his face. “He’s
my
father. You’ll tell me, shit-bird!”

Winter’s responds, “First I want immunity from se U.S. and Greater Germany.”

That’s it
. “How about immunity from getting your fucking balls hacked off?” I unsheathe my fighting knife and step between his knees. I slash the front of his pants open and shove his yucky, uncircumcised penis out of the way. Then I press the edge of my knife against his hairy scrotum.

In the movies, the hero would give the villain one last chance before castrating him. Actually, in the movies the hero probably wouldn’t be castrating the villain at all, but either way, this is not the goddamn movies. I immediately begin sawing off Winter’s love spuds.

He screams, “
Ahh!
It was Fredericks!
Stop!
Oh, God! It was Jakob Fredericks!”

“Scarlet, stop!” It’s Darwin. “We got it!”

Cyrus comms, “Scarlet, if you terminate that asset, I’ll kick you straight into hell.”

I let go of Winter’s man jigglies. My hand is covered in blood. “Darwin,” I comm, “you’d better tell Lovebird to step on it.”

Air travel makes me drink too much. Maybe it’s the tedium of it. Jet-setting used to be fun, but now I do it so often that it’s a drag. I’m tempted to pass the time by wrestling with the waitresses. I’ll bet they’re a lot tougher than they look.

Winter sits next to me, by the window. He’s taking a chemically induced twelve-hour power nap. I wanted to stick him in pressurized cargo, but the Protectors talked me out of it. Cyrus sent a quartet of bodyguards to accompany me and my big fish back to the States. Two sit in front of me and Winter, and two sit behind.

My hand clings to a glass of schnapps and soda as I watch the clouds drift past the little windows. I’m technically still on duty, so drinking alcohol isn’t exactly kosher, but to hell with it. My mission is completed. I could chat up the Protectors, but they’re only Level 3s, and I don’t feel like regaling them with war stories. Besides, I’m enjoying the fact that I’m actually conscious for this return trip.