I'd Rather Be In Paris (32 page)

"Lucie,” Zara whispered, moving to the side of the bed. There were three rooms on this upper floor, two of which held sleeping men. Their snores vibrated through the walls. The third and smallest room held Zara's sister.

"Lucie,” she whispered again. Lucie turned her head and murmured something incomprehensible. Zara stuck the black gun in her waistband and stroked her sister's cheek.

Lucie's wrists were tied to the bedposts, but she was fully clothed and showed no signs of abuse. Zara breathed a sigh of relief. Using the knife, she cut her sister's bonds, grabbed her under the arms and pulled her upright.

"Time to go, sis. Wake up."

"Zara?” Lucie mumbled.

She maneuvered Lucie's legs off the bed. “Come on. We've got to move quickly and quietly."

"
Où
?” Where are we going?

Zara threw Lucie's arm around her neck and hoisted her to her feet. “We're getting the hell out of here."

Her sister only outweighed her by ten or fifteen pounds, but Lucie's near-dead weight was impossible to move. After shuffling her into the adjoining bathroom, Zara held her over the sink and splashed cold water on her face. At first, Lucie's protests were mild. Then, as the sedative receded and gave way to lucidity, her head came up and she shoved at Zara, sputtering and swearing at the cruel treatment.

"Shhh. I know, I know.” She steadied Lucie as she swayed. “I'm sorry, but I need you awake and able to move. We're in Dr. Vos Loo's laboratory near the German border and he and Dmitri are looking for me. Do you think you can run?"

Lucie blinked several times before pinning her focus on Zara. Determination fired underneath the haze. “I'll try."

Zara pulled the gun out of her waistband and grabbed her sister's hand. “Come on, then. Let's go."

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The means to escape sat in the garage. It probably wasn't the only exit out of the bunker, but if Annette was telling the truth, it was the best one. It provided them with wheels.

Leading with the handgun out in front of her, Zara continued her descent down the stairs with her back against the wall. Lucie held her left hand and mimicked her posture, sliding her back along the wall as they took each step. Zara used slow, careful movements to keep Lucie from falling.

Just as she set foot on the second-floor landing, Dmitri's voice echoed on the other side of the metal door. “Goddammit! I will kill that bitch!"

Her heart lurched into her throat. She heard footsteps running toward the door. Squeezing Lucie's hand, she pulled her forward. “Now would be a good time to run."

"
Non merde
,” Lucie said, stumbling behind her. No shit.

"Level One, clear,” Lawson said into his lip mike. He mentally heard the relieved sigh of the SEALs, Flynn, Christian and the others who were all outside the bunker listening. “Ascending to Level Two."

The basement of the compound was exactly what Del had predicted. A garage, an incinerator and a couple of supply closets. Pegasus had disabled all of the vehicles as a precaution. Any terrorists trying to escape would have to go on foot.

Pegasus was now ready to get down to business. He nodded at Johnny, and the point man pulled open the door to the stairwell.

Because of their limited view and tight quarters, stairs were less than optimum for infiltration. Noises carried like a voice through a bullhorn, and the bullet from a discharged weapon could ricochet, injuring anyone who got in the way. Getting cornered by the enemy on a three-foot-by-three-foot landing was a death sentence.

Lawson had ordered Teddy, C.J. and Rooster to hold back until he and Johnny made it to the second-floor landing. They would act as cover if any of the terrorists picked that moment to use the stairs.

Backs against the wall and weapons sweeping the stairs over their heads, Lawson and Johnny started up.

He'd just placed his foot on the fourth step when all hell broke loose above him.

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"Come back here,” Dmitri snarled from five steps above Zara. “You can't escape."

Lucie had fallen and Zara struggled to get her back on her feet. She raised her gun and pointed it at Dmitri's head, even as she tugged on Lucie's arm. “Stay back or I'll shoot you."

The ice-blue eyes snapped at her and a sinister laugh bubbled up from Dmitri's chest, but he stopped in his tracks. His gaze fell to the black gun in Zara's hand, catching the way it trembled, and he smiled. Then he brought his gaze back up to hers, sizing her up. Debating whether or not she was capable of pulling the trigger.

Just to make it clear, she cocked the hammer.

"You won't shoot me."

Zara guided Lucie forward and swallowed the lump in her throat. If it weren't for her sister, she would have pulled the trigger without hesitation. “Don't bet on it."

Lucie fell again, swearing as she tripped down another stair. Zara reached for her.

She saw him move out of the corner of her eye, and she immediately knew her mistake for what it was. Before she could bring the gun back to bear on him, he was there, knocking her hand away. The gun went off as his body collided with hers, the report so loud it drowned out Zara's cry of pain as she landed with Dmitri on top of her.

Her head smacked against the edge of a stair and pain exploded behind her eyes. The gun fell from her hand and her body rolled with Dmitri's, momentum carrying them over. Air rushed from her lungs as her back hit the concrete, and her knee popped as Dmitri's legs, entwined with her own, twisted her leg in an awkward angle.

She cried out again, pushing him away. He grabbed her wrist, and as their bodies came to a stop, dealt a sharp blow to her jaw. Pinpricks of light burst under her eyeballs and she tried to pull back.

As he let go of her wrist, he buried his hand in her hair and jerked her to her feet. She stumbled, her knee giving out as Lucie screamed her name.

Dmitri forced her back up the steps. “Don't be stupid, princess. You can't get away from me."

The stairs swam in front of her eyes and her feet fumbled trying to find them. One hand tugged at Dmitri's where he held her hair, the other sought the wall for a brace. Behind her, Lucie gasped.

"Run, Lucie.” Flinging her right arm out, she struck at Dmitri's chest. “The garage is right below us. Run!"

He deflected her arm and shoved her, face-forward, against the cold block wall. A new wave of pain engulfed her skull and she sagged.

"She can run,” he hissed in her ear, “but she'll never make it. My guards will kill her before she touches the door."

A man's low voice drawled behind them, “Your guards are dead, Dmitri, and if you don't release Zara, you will be too."

Lawson
. Her head ringing, she turned to look over her shoulder at him. He was in camouflage, soaking wet from head to toe, the thick black suppressor of his weapon pointed at Dmitri's head. Greasepaint and mud covered the rugged cheekbones of his face, and his eyes were shadowed by a floppy-brimmed hat. He barely looked like her Lawson, but Zara would know his voice and the hard set of his mouth anywhere.

Three steps behind him was another member of Pegasus, John Quick. Zara remembered him from the farmhouse. His weapon was also trained on Dmitri. Straining her eyes, she saw the top of Lucie's head disappear down the last flight of stairs. Instantly, another man in camouflage took her spot, gun raised.

Lawson and Team Pegasus were there. Lucie was safe. Zara's knees went weak.

Dmitri snatched her off the wall and turned her to shield his body from Lawson. It was déjà vu. One arm went around her neck and he jerked her up a step and onto the landing by the door. Lawson swam in front of her eyes, and she grabbed Dmitri's forearm with both hands, trying to break the band of steel pressing against her windpipe. It was no use. She was too weak to fight him now.

The cool tip of something pricked the side of her neck. The syringe of supervirus. She froze.

"Ah, yes.” Dmitri's breath was hot against the side of her head. “Lawson Vaughn, coming to Agent Morgan's rescue again. How Hollywood of you.” His voice was calm, poised, as though the arrival of Pegasus was not at all unexpected, but Zara could feel his heart thumping like a fist against her shoulder blades.

Alexandrov Dmitri was scared. The thought brought a moment of satisfaction. “Shoot him,” Zara said to Lawson. “Just shoot the son of a bitch."

Lawson's gaze locked on hers from under the brim of his hat for the briefest of seconds before dropping to a point right of her face.

The point where Dmitri was pressing the syringe against her neck.

The terrorist yanked her up another step. “She's as good as dead if you make one move.” The cool tip cut in further. “This baby holds five ccs of a supervirus Vos Loo has engineered. A cocktail so deadly, he named it simply
Mors
after the Roman god of death. Rather dull, wouldn't you say? But then our good doctor wasn't hired for his poetic genius."

Lawson didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't even seem to breathe. But his stillness did not convey apprehension to Zara. If anything, it managed to suggest calm. “The compound is surrounded by a group of U.S. Navy SEALs,” he said, as if pure logic could reason with a madman. “You can't escape. Release Agent Morgan and lay down your weapon."

The tip of the syringe dropped from Zara's neck, and she inhaled a deep breath, expecting Dmitri to let go of her. He might be crazy, but he wasn't stupid. He had to know his only chance for survival was to give up peacefully.

Instead he twisted, and she heard the sound of the doorknob turning. Before her brain clicked, before she could fight back, he jerked the door open and propelled her through it.

"Lawson,” she cried, falling to the floor. The door slammed shut and one of Stefano's men, lying in wait to help Dmitri, threw a deadbolt across it.

Dmitri shoved a cap on the syringe and stuck it in his back pocket before drawing a handgun from his shoulder holster. “Where's Stefano?"

"In the lab,” the man answered. He motioned for Dmitri to follow him across the hall. “He said to bring the virus. The entire batch must be destroyed so there is no proof against any of us."

Dmitri stayed put. Footsteps and men's voices echoed on the other side of the door. “I'll join you in a minute."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hall toward the cells. “First I must secure the girl."

The guard gave him a quizzical glance, but nodded before ducking into the lab.

Dmitri jammed his gun into her back. “Let's go."

As her bare feet touched the water in the hall, her knee gave out again. She slipped and fell on the concrete floor only to have Dmitri haul her back up. She heard a woman's voice, the crash of glass, a man's raging scream and a gunshot behind her. The silence immediately following the report was quickly replaced with a jumble of men's voices and then more shots.

Blackness clouded Zara's vision. She stumbled, but Dmitri was ready. His fingers dug into her arm. She tried to summon the energy to fight, but she had nothing left. Her legs and arms were too weak. She trembled all over.

He pushed her toward a barred cell at the end of the hall. The door was partially open and he threw her inside. She collapsed against the putrid mattress as he shoved the toilet out of the way and removed a section of wall from behind it. There were no pipes, only the empty mouth of a dark cavern. He seized her jacket and dragged her across the floor. “Go,” he commanded.

Numb, Zara lay on the floor where the toilet had sat and eyed the entrance to Dmitri's escape route. She didn't have the strength to fight him, but she sure as hell wasn't crawling into a dark, scary, cobweb-filled tunnel with him.

After all, she did have her limits.

"Fuck you,” she said.

She expected a swift kick from his boot. Instead he laughed. High-pitched and loud, it was the laugh of a man pushed to the breaking point. “'Fuck you',” he mimicked, shaking his head and continuing to laugh, softer now. In the background, Zara heard the door to the stairs splinter. “That's a good one, Agent Morgan. Very original.” The laughter died and he grabbed her by the jacket lapels, bringing her face inches from his own. “Now move your skinny American ass.” The arms of steel thrust her into the dark.

Dark was an understatement. Crawling on her hands and knees, Zara was claustrophobic as well as disoriented from the total absence of light. She could not discern whether they were moving up or down, and she was repulsed at the musty smell of the earth filling her nostrils and the feel of spider webs against her face. Unseen bugs skittered over her fingers and dropped from the ceiling into her hair. She seesawed between wanting to scream and wanting to vomit.

The only positive about the suffocating darkness was the fact Dmitri couldn't see her pull the five-inch knife from her jacket pocket as she pretended to stumble. The blade had nicked her stomach during their fall on the stairs, but she'd ignored the pain in the ensuing fight. Now she maneuvered it into the sleeve of her jacket as she crawled.

The far-off sound of gunfire met her ears and she paused, listening. Maybe what Lawson had said was true. Maybe the compound was surrounded by commandos. Hope flickered in her chest.

Dmitri's gun poked her butt. “Move it."

She crawled forward again, the thought of rescue dangling in front of her. If Lawson had men stationed outside the compound, she could be leading Dmitri right into their hands. Feeling a jolt of adrenaline, she picked up her pace.

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