KIDNAPPED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (29 page)

Assured the Kreshnins hadn’t set up their point of attack yet, Jake motioned the others to join them at the warehouse’s rear entrance.

The group slipped inside the metal door, and Jake signaled them to halt. He lifted his goggles and unrolled the blueprints on the floor. The others followed suit and knelt beside him. On the paper, Doyle had marked the areas where the small quantities of plastique were in place.

“None of these will cause more than flashes and minor structural damage, but try not to use them as spots of concealment.” Jake pointed to the three areas marked in black. “These are the points of penetration. The idea is to let them enter, then block their exits.”

“How many do you think they’ll bring?” Dave had already loaded ammo into his rifle and slipped into his assault vest.

“Anywhere from a few to a whole team. Boss Kreshnin is known for overkill. He’s the highly dramatic big Russian type. But I’ll bet whomever is helping them may not want it announced to the world they’re taking us out. That could play in our favor.”

Luke stopped in the middle of pulling out several small cameras out of his bag of equipment. “Take us out?”

The others exchanged looks over his naivete. Jake knew the group’s youngest member was out of his league when it came to planned ambush and despite his words to Samantha, he didn’t want to lose her brother in a gun battle.

“Luke, your job’s to focus on getting the evidence we need to put these guys behind bars. They’ll want to kill me. Especially when they find out Nicky isn’t part of the deal and that he isn’t even on the premises. Your brothers are going to see that doesn’t happen.” He laid a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You just focus on your job, and leave the fighting to us.”

Luke pulled out a
Baretta, checked the magazine and pushed the clip into place, as quick as any expert marksman. “How about I just keep this handy then?”

Jake glanced at Dave and Matt. They grinned at him, then focused on memorizing the layout of the warehouse.

“I take it you know how to use that thing?”

Stupid question. Of course he did, his brothers would’ve insisted he learn, not to mention the Treasury Department, which controlled the IRS investigators.

Luke shrugged. “You worry about staying in one piece so Sami can give you hell when we get home. I’ll worry about myself and my equipment.”

Doyle and Matt set out a perimeter of ammo, easy enough for them to get to in the heat of battle, yet out of sight of their enemies. Dave upturned some old packing crates and storage barrels to make points of concealment. Jake helped Luke place the surveillance equipment.

Three tiny cameras, set at various heights and distances around the center of the main floor would record the exchange between Jake and Boss Kreshnin. If everything went well, they would have the evidence to clear Jake and destroy the mafia’s extortion hold on the Russian immigrant community, close down their drug and prostitution activities and convict Petrov of murder.

And if things didn’t go well, then someone would have evidence of my murder, too.

Jake couldn’t help his pessimism. For the first time in a long while, he wanted the kind of future every other man wanted. A home and a family
with
Samantha. With his luck, now that he knew what he wanted, his job would cost him everything. He sat back on his heels a moment watching the others work.

Four good men and one strong woman believed he was worth the effort to keep alive. He’d just have to prove them right. He hoped putting the Kreshnins behind bars was his best option. But if for one second he thought Nicky or Samantha would be in danger after this morning, he planned to take the Kreshnins out—permanently.

* * *

During the long periods of straining to listen into the dark for sounds of their prey’s approach, thoughts of Samantha and Nicky infiltrated Jake’s mind. Even though he was glad they were safe and sound at Doyle’s, he wondered if they managed to actually get any sleep. Sitting in the dark, cavernous old warehouse he imagined Samantha curled around Nicky as protectively as she had been last night. God, he wished he was there now, holding her in the dark.

“Rookie?” Doyle’s low rumble filled his ears. He’d stationed himself just outside the main entrance lying in the gully lined with bushes, saying with his hip, there no way he could move around inside with any kind of stealth. “We have bogies approaching from the north.”

Jake glanced at his watch. Five o’clock. The Kreshnins played it true to form, arriving an hour early for the meeting. “How many, Doyle?”

“I count two vehicles, no make that three.”

Straining, Jake heard the engines rumble low then stop. Eight car doors opened, and shut, one louder than the others. He eased further into the packing crate he was huddled inside. “Let them get inside and into their positions. Remember, we want them to relax and give us some evidence on film,” he whispered into the mouthpiece of his communications set. “No one goes up to the second floor, Matt.”

“Gottcha.” Matt sat somewhere at the top of the second floor steps. The old service elevator had been disabled years ago. The task of keeping unwanted snipers from accessing the catwalk surrounding the main level fell to him. His other job was to act as sniper from above.

The front door creaked open. Someone tried the rear door, but Doyle had rendered it useless just after Jake’s team gained entrance through it.

Voices whispered. Flashlights scanned back and forth throughout the first floor. Jake listened for Boss Kreshnin. If the big man didn’t show, none of this mattered.

“Vsio kharasho khazyaeen.”
The coast is clear, Boss
, someone said into a two way phone.

The front door opened again.

Two massive forms stepped inside.

Hollywood couldn’t have cast two Cossacks better than Petrov Kreshnin and his little brother Ivan. The KGB had handpicked them from their village along the Ob River in the Ural Mountains during the height of the Cold War. Fresh from their parents to a state run school, their natural tendencies to bully others made them perfect material for the strong-arms unit of the secret police.

But Petrov and Ivan were no ordinary enforcers. They were smart enough to get out of the country when communism fell, setting up their own cell for extortion, money laundering, drugs, and sex in the one place they knew they could make a profit-–America.

“Misha, Sasha, Vladik, spread out. Hide yourselves. We want the mole to show himself and the boy. Then we’ll pounce, like the otter catching his little fishes, no?”  The big Cossack ordered in Russian, then laughed at his own wit.

Jake really hated all of Petrov’s anecdotes from the old country. Everyday while he was in deep cover, he’d heard Petrov compare himself to some animal—bear, wolf, fox, even shark.

“Ilya,” Boss switched into English, as Ilya spoke more American than old country Russian. “Up to the Eagle’s nest with you.”

A young blonde man trotted up the old iron steps to the second floor. The rusted metal cat walk creaked overhead as he made his way to a position, then a transmission over the two-way to Boss confirmed his position.

Jake wasn’t worried. Matt would take the kid out before he became a problem.

Several more men dispersed throughout the main floor, and one stationed himself outside as a look out. All in all, Jake counted fifteen men, including the Kreshnin brothers.

He hunkered in his packing crate and listened for tale-tell sounds of the enemy’s numbers shrinking.

* * *

Matt eased the
bolt rifle’s sling over his shoulder. Never taking his eyes of his prey, he slipped his Glock with its silencer out of his holster and crept along the bridge. Neither he nor his weapon, with its black matte finish, would show any light in the darkness. With a panther’s sleek moves he worked his way closer and closer.

The young lieutenant, focused on the level below, had laid his weapon aside and sat watching the front entrance to the building. His mistake lay in the assurance they’d outwitted their enemy.

Matt trained the laser site at the gang member. He hated what he was about to do, but when it came down to his sister’s life, Nicky’s and Jake’s, or this guy’s, he’d do whatever it took to keep the others safe.

“Ilya, you are in place, yes?” The big guy’s voice rumbled over the kid’s walkie-talkie.

“Yes, Boss. I’m ready.”

Matt waited for the kid to answer and pocket his communication device. He raised his arm until the laser site pointed at the kid’s heart. Gently, he squeezed on the trigger.

A soft whiz, then a muffled pop sounded.

The kid jerked slightly, then slumped sideways. Matt crawled forward, easing the dead sniper and his gun away from the precipice. He refused to look at the kid’s face.

Quietly, Matt slipped into the vacated spot. Legs hanging down he scanned the area below. He pressed the headset’s mouthpiece to his headset closer to his lips, whispering to the others.

* * *

“One down, Jake. Two bogies in the center of the room. One to the left of you. Two flanking Dave. One about two feet in front of Luke. One stationed at each door.”

Jake listened to Matt’s whispered report in his ear. The guy worked quietly. So focused on the conversation between the Kreshnins, he’d almost missed the sound of the silencer above him.

“Is Madson going to join us this morning, Petrov?” Ivan sat on a crate cleaning his fingernails with a knife.

Petrov laughed. “The Shadowman has not stomach enough for what needs to be done. He leaves it to us to dispose of the cop and boy.”

Jake glanced upward. On the side of Luke’s camera just above his head, the faint green light showed the recording had begun. He’d just sit a while and let the gangsters hang themselves. Maybe he could even find out this Madson’s identity.

“One bogey down to your left, Jake.” Dave’s voice rumbled through the headset. “Let me get the other one before you make your move.”

“Brother, I like Nicholai. It is necessary to kill him? He is most useful with his little memory, no?”

A slap sounded on the other side of the room. Jake knew from experience, the larger bully had slapped Ivan in the head.

“Stupid! He can put us in American prisons. The brat must be silenced for good.”

“Da. You are right as always,”
Ivan mumbled.

Jake could imagine the younger Kreshnin rubbing his head.

“And besides, if we do this right, Madson will be in our pocket, yes?”

A clicking sounded in Jake’s ear, followed by Doyle’s raspy voice. “Two bogey’s down outside, Rookie.”

Gray light started to filter through the grimy windows of the old factory. Jake flexed and released his hands, then rolled his head to one side, then the other, trying to loosen the cramping tension in his shoulders. Damn, he wished Dave would hurry. He wondered how many men were outside, but couldn’t risk being heard asking Doyle until Dave was in position.

“I told you killing Ivanovich was not such good idea, Petrov. Madson should do more of his own work, not us. After Nicholai is no longer threat, what is to keep him from doing the double cross to us?”

 “Because, I too know of Madson’s involvement in murder. There is more evidence than just brat’s story. If cops get his car, he is dead man. Madson cannot touch us.”

Jake’s attention riveted to that piece of information. This Madson wasn’t a cop. So who was he?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sami and Nicky lay curled on opposite ends of the couch together. Early morning cartoons flickered on the television. For some reason, she couldn’t make herself sleep in the bed they’d shared with Jake the night before. Instead, she’d made the night a camp-out in Doyle’s living room. The all night movie marathon did little to ease her fear for Jake and her brothers, but it kept Nicky occupied.  

“Sami?” Nicky mumbled from his side of the couch.

“Yes?” She lifted her head to look across the couch at him.

“Why Big Partner show me pictures of men last night?”

He sounded confused, even for someone just waking up.

Sami sat up. “Jake and Doyle wanted to see if you could identify Madson in any of the pictures, Nicky. Don’t you remember telling us that you saw him with Boss Kreshnin the night they killed the man?”

“But I not see Madson’s face, Sami.”

A shiver of apprehension slid down her spine.

“You told Jake you saw Boss and Madson dump the body in Madson’s car, Nicky. Didn’t you?”

“I saw Boss and other man put white-haired man in car, after they shoot him. But I not see other man’s face.”

Sami brushed his hair out of his face. “Nicky, why did you identify Madson as helping kill that man?”

“Madson is words on car, Sami.”

Her confusion doubled, along with her fear they’d missed something important. “Where exactly did you see the words Mad son?”

“On metal plate at bottom of big black car.”

Suddenly everything made more sense. It was no longer a case of just Nicky’s word convicting this man. His car held DNA evidence that linked him to the homicide and Nicky could pinpoint which car to the police. Sami went to the kitchen, then returned with a piece of paper and a pencil. “Write exactly what you saw on that plate for me. Okay, Nicky?”

Taking the pencil, he wiggled around on the couch. He bit his bottom lip, concentrating as he printed out what he’d seen.

MAD*SON.

“You’re sure about this?”

He nodded, handing her the pencil.

“Of course you are. You don’t forget anything you see.” His eyes grew wide with fright. Sami sat next to him, pulling him into her arms. She ran her hands up and down his arm as much to calm herself as to reassure him. “It’s okay. When Jake and Doyle return they’ll know what to do with this plate.”

Damn it! If they’d known this yesterday, they could’ve run it through the Department of Motor Vehicles and found out who set Jake up in the first place. If she knew the codes to unlock the security on Doyle’s computer, she’d look it up herself, but Jake had taken it with him. And she couldn’t call her usual source for computer help—Luke—he was at the warehouse, too.