Red Dawn Rising (Red Returning Trilogy) (36 page)

Chapter 42

S
onya called Cyrus Neale’s phone repeatedly, desperate to abort his mission. “He doesn’t answer,” she reported to Ivan. They were alone in the study of the Brooklyn house. Hans’s arms were now tied again, though not to the chair this time. One guard roamed the property, and another remained inside with Hans.

“Keep trying,” Ivan said. Walking to the window, he looked out at the barren yard that even a dazzling midday sun couldn’t brighten. His friend was too old and sick to tend the property anymore, and the students had long since abandoned the walled commune of their youth. What about Ivan’s youth? Would its residual zeal carry him through the coming years? Before he might be too old and sick to care, like Boris.

But not yet. The fire still burned. Like sulfur. He could smell it again, running putrid from the kitchen sink through all his early years. Now it was time for someone else to pay. What a stunning coincidence that Travis Noland should occupy the White House at this precise moment in the history of the new Russian revolution.
How perfect
, Ivan thought, trailing back in time.

When Ivan’s mother first told his father that she was pregnant, the visiting dignitary from America who’d taken advantage of the fetching young chambermaid merely flung a handful of money at her and moved
on
to another willing paramour. When Galina Volynski repeatedly asked for her lover’s help, F. Reginald Noland threatened to accuse her of extortion and certain imprisonment. In the years that followed, the woman taught her young son to hate the arrogant Americans and one family in particular. She died before witnessing her son’s first strike on the house of Noland.

All it had taken to dethrone the elder Noland was one large envelope of photographs sent anonymously to the
New York Times
. Taken over many years, the images recorded the statesman—routinely entrusted with highly classified material—cavorting with two different females whom the sender of the package had documented as spies. Though an investigation proved the evidence inconclusive, and even some news headlines suggested a frame-up, the damage had been done. Noland willingly resigned from his venerable post. Soon after, his wife divorced him. The evidence had been conclusive enough for her. Ivan had so delighted in what he’d wrought, he didn’t even mind when the son overcame his father’s ruin to reach the pinnacle of power. All the better to bring him down.

Ivan now checked his watch. Just thirty minutes since his men had reported both targets had been eliminated at the warehouse. It gave Ivan no satisfaction to do such things. They were young men who might have been of greater value one day, but Ivan couldn’t afford whatever compromise they had made with the enemy, whatever carelessness had left a trail for federal agents to follow. He wasn’t sure which of the two had been to blame. It didn’t matter.

“I have him!” Sonya announced. She handed the phone quickly to Ivan.

“Cyrus, you must not go today,” Ivan ordered. “I am postponing your mission. You were right. The Americans are watching you.”

“Not anymore. I got away. I’m already at the tug, and we’re going to do this thing as planned. All you need to do is watch.”

“Cyrus!” Ivan cried, but the line went dead. Ivan could feel the heat in his face as he turned to Sonya. “The fool! He is going anyway.”

But Sonya was steady and cool in her response. “So be it. If he succeeds, we win. If he doesn’t, we lose nothing.”

Ivan held her words, examining them closely. “You are my sensible
comrade
,” he told her. “You are right. Nothing would be lost.” His spirits brightened. “If Cyrus is successful, I will give the signal to all the others. And it will begin. The power plants, the dams, the historic landmarks, the computer networks—they will all go down.”

“And if he isn’t successful, send the signal anyway,” Sonya reasoned. “The feds have no way of stopping the others. They don’t even know who or where they are.” She smiled triumphantly, her large hands coming together in silent applause.

Ivan raised a hand to his chin, his thoughts spinning. Then he checked his watch again. “We must go soon.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “I doubt our weak and out-of-shape friend in there will require more than one guard to stay here with him.”

“I suggest we rid ourselves of him as soon as possible,” Sonya said icily.

“I will make that decision once we reach the ship. I don’t want any entanglements to delay us. From there, we’ll launch the entire operation.”

“Are you sure one man is enough to leave with Hans?”

“The others will return soon. They have already eluded the trap set for us at the warehouse.” He hung on one sobering thought. “If not for our man Cyrus’s suspicions, for his simple observation of that car on his street, we might have suffered a great setback today.”

“And what about Cyrus’s fate? Can we be sure of his intentions? Are you certain he’s prepared to sacrifice himself?”

Instead of answering, Ivan strolled into the kitchen and stood before Hans, noticing how tightly his arms were bound in front of him. “Are you in pain, Hans?”

Hans raised his head, his drooping eyes clouded. “Not the kind you would understand, Ivan. That would require a conscience.”

Ivan laughed but his eyes didn’t. “And mine is a calling you would not understand. But there is something you might know. From all your contact with Cyrus Neale, are you convinced he wants to end his life today? No second thoughts about asylum in Russia?”

“Who knows such things for certain, Ivan? He says he is ready. He’s made arrangements to dispense of all his belongings. Even buried his dog in the back yard.”

Ivan inspected the beleaguered face once more, silently and with regret that he’d failed to win the allegiance of this man he’d once admired. At that moment, he decided what must be done with Hans. But not right now. That would be one kill he had no interest in watching.

Chapter 43

A
fter Cass, Jordan, and Delaney’s agent had finished their exhaustive search of Hans’s study, finding nothing else they considered worth reporting, Jordan closed the last cabinet and remained seated on the floor, staring into space. The agent was now in the front yard, talking to security officers on duty there.

“What’s the matter?” Cass asked, replacing the last of the hanging files and struggling to stay awake.

“Let me see that photograph of the house again,” Jordan said. “Something’s been nagging at me.”

He studied it a few moments. “I don’t know why I didn’t catch this before. Look at this.”

Cass plopped on the floor next to him and leaned toward the glossy aerial shot.

“Is that a cow?” he asked.

“A what?” She took the photograph from him and squinted at the spot he pointed to. “It could be. Hard to tell from this angle. Why?”

“Did you ever drive by that old arts school in Brooklyn? The one near Owls Head Park and the bay?”

“I once knew a set designer who took classes there, long time ago. But I’ve never seen the place.”

“I’ve passed it only a few times,” Jordan said, “but I remember this big plaster cow near the front gate. The students used to paint wild designs all over it. Something different every time I saw it.” He tapped it again with his finger. “I’m pretty sure that’s the cow.”

“Then we’d better go see.” Cass was already off the floor and heading for the door with renewed energy.

Jordan balked. “Oh no. You call Ava first.”

“And tell her what? That we can’t be sure, but we think we see a familiar cow?”

“But what if that’s the place where they are holding Hans, and lots of guys with guns are just waiting for two clueless sleuths to show up at the door? Again.”

“Well, we’ve got a gun, too.”

“Cass, be serious.”

“I couldn’t be more serious. We’re going. And I’m not pulling the FBI off their computer search for the place to join us on a wild … cow chase. Let’s go.” Cass was heading for the stairs. “We’ll have to sneak out of here. They’d never let us go, and we’re better off on our own anyway.”

“One problem, Cass. We don’t have a car.”

“A friend of mine down the beach will loan us one. We’ll go out the back.”

Jordan finally quit arguing and fell in behind her.

Before they left, Cass slipped into her mother’s room to tell her they were leaving, but Jilly was asleep. Cass scribbled a note assuring her that all was well and they’d return soon. Almost an hour later, they were headed to Brooklyn in a borrowed Mercedes, surely one of the first produced, Jordan had noted glumly.

During the drive, Cass decided to unleash the news of her biological father. When she finished, Jordan reached for her hand, his gaze shifting between the road and her. They rode in silence for a few minutes more, his hand still on hers. Then he squeezed it gently and said, “As if you haven’t been handed enough to process already, here’s one more thing.” He glanced her way, then back at the road. “I love you, Cass Rodino, or whatever your name is. I love you something awful.”

Cass unbuckled her seat belt and leaned into him. She nuzzled his cheek and kissed it softly. “And I love you,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Put your seat belt back on. I’ve waited too long for this to lose it before the next traffic light.”

She laughed out loud. It felt good and cleansing. Why couldn’t it last? The good times never had before. But maybe something was beginning to turn.

Finally, they approached the old walled school, and Cass started checking the surrounding streets against the photograph in her lap. The aerial shot hadn’t taken in much beyond the compound, but she could see a few homes on the periphery of the image. She tried to match those images to the homes in front of her. If she could be sure that this place and the one pictured from above were the same, they would alert Ava and back off to a safe distance.

Traffic was heavy this Monday, and Jordan slowed to a crawl near the school. Just ahead was the cow, painted pink with brown polka dots. “There it is!” Cass blurted. “But I still need to be certain. Let’s see if this flat-looking little house in the photo is where it should be in real life. Take a right before you get to the school.” She glanced at Jordan and noted the intensity in his face. “Please,” she added.

He flashed only a marginal grin her way. As soon as he took the turn and cleared the corner, Cass spotted the small, flat house ahead on the right, across a narrow street from the brick wall surrounding the school property. She checked and double-checked the photograph against the house. Even the oddly angled front walk to the door was the same. “Okay, I’m calling Ava.” She pulled the phone from her backpack. “But first, let’s circle the block and give this place a good look. We’ll need to tell her everything we can about it.”

One thought loomed above all others. Hans might be inside. The man who was her father, her real father. It was a transforming thought, but one she’d have to probe later. Then another thought. Who else was in there?

“Cass, hide your face,” Jordan warned as he pulled his hood over his head. “These people know us, remember? Good thing we’re not in my car.”

They were coming up on the opposite side of the school. An old two-story house rose above the wall, and a driveway ran from it through a side opening in the wall, now closed by a metal gate. “Go slow, Jordan. When you get even with the gate, stop. We need to see the grounds inside.”

“Okay, but you need to call Ava. It’ll take her team awhile to get here.”

They were creeping along the wall when a car suddenly appeared at the gate ahead, and then it opened. A black BMW sedan turned out of the property and headed away from them. “Two guys in the front, but I can’t see inside the back,” Jordan said.

They had been so startled by the car, Jordan had stopped abruptly in the street, then inched closer. When they pulled even with the gate, they were surprised to see a man just closing it from inside. He looked up and stared hard at them.

“Jordan, keep going, but not too fast. I need a good look in there.”

Jordan eased forward. As they cruised past the still-open gate, it was no longer the man attending it who held Cass’s attention. It was the figure running away from the house behind him. In the opposite direction. A man bent over and loping awkwardly. A familiar shape.

“Hans!” Cass cried, then covered her mouth fearing the man at the gate had heard her even through the closed windows.

Startled, Jordan stomped on the brake and turned to her.

“Go! Go!” she cried. “It’s Hans! Running to the other side!”

As Jordan gunned the car, Cass turned to the rear. The guy at the gate was no longer there. He was running fast behind them. “He’s chasing us!”

Jordan was forced to stop at the cross street fronting the compound and wait for traffic to clear. He couldn’t wait long, though. The man was almost on their bumper.

“Hang on!” he told Cass, and sped toward the far end of the wall. “You’re sure it was Hans?”

“Positive.”

“But there’s no way out on the other side.”

“He probably doesn’t know that. He’ll have to hide in one of the other buildings.” She pointed ahead. “Stop when you get to the front entrance.
I’m
getting out.” She looked quickly behind them. The man was running back the way he’d come.