As Olaf leveled the gun at Luka, I stretched forward and grabbed the laptop. Adam leaned instinctively back out of the way, so that I couldn’t hit him. And Olaf was staring at me. If I threw it at him, he’d see it coming.
But there was one thing I could do with it. One thing that might save us...or kill us all.
I twisted as hard as I could, managing to turn Adam around as well. I was now right in the open doorway, the freezing wind scouring my face, the roar of the engines pounding my ears. The runway was just a blur.
I threw the laptop into the jet engine and watched as it was sucked inside. The whole plane trembled for a split-second and then the engine exploded into a million jagged pieces.
The blast hurled Adam and I back inside and across the cabin. The whole plane slewed to one side. As I’d hoped, none of us could keep our feet. Olaf went staggering into Luka, who grabbed the gun and pushed him away.
Olaf stumbled backward and made a grab for me, perhaps intending to throw me out of the door. Before he could, four wet, red flowers erupted on his white shirt. He looked down in disbelief...and fell backwards out of the door, his body bouncing as it hit the runway.
Adam was still reeling from the explosion. Luka grabbed the front of his shirt, then punched him just once with the other hand. He dropped to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
The plane started to slow. Through the open door, I could see the SUVs finally catching up with us. The bodyguards inside were wide-eyed in panic. They’d just seen their boss’s body hurled out of a plane and, unlike Yuri, they weren’t thinking about honor and vengeance; they were thinking that they’d backed the wrong side. Luka approached the door, gun raised. As soon as they saw he was still alive, the drivers stamped on the brakes, turned and drove away as fast as they could.
The jet finally stopped. The pilot unlocked the door from the cockpit and tentatively looked out. He looked at me, then at the groaning Adam on the floor, then finally at Luka. “Are things back to normal, sir?” he asked.
Luka drew in a long breath. “Yes, captain. Thank you for your help.”
Adam spat a tooth across the cockpit. “You can’t prove shit,” he panted. “It was all on that laptop.”
I slumped down into one of the leather chairs. “You know, I always thought it was Roberta who underestimated me,” I told him. “But the whole time, it was you. Don’t you remember anything about me?”
One Week Later
“Arms up,” said Yuri.
Roberta raised her arms without complaint. The pat-down was standard practice but I knew that wasn’t the only reason it was being done. This was the first time Luka and Vasiliy had ever—knowingly—met someone from the CIA. They wanted to remind her who was in control.
Yuri stepped away and nodded her over to our table. He was still solemn—he was Yuri, and that would never change—but he did seem just a little lighter, since Olaf had died, as if a door to his past had finally closed forever. I’d even caught him smiling, once.#p#分页标题#e#
We were in a coffee shop that, until a few moments ago, had been full of customers. They’d all cleared out as soon as we’d arrived. Word had spread of the fall of Olaf Ralavich. If they’d been scared of us before, now they were terrified.
That didn’t bother me as much as it used to. There are worse things in life than being feared. People are going to be scared of someone. Better that that’s a family with some notion of honor and justice.
Luka sat on one side of me, hulking over the table like a bear. His untouched coffee looked comically small in front of him. He looked as if he might smash the table in two at any moment, his hatred for the CIA barely contained. But I wasn’t scared of that anger, anymore. I’d seen the man inside, the one who’d always been there. He’d just needed the right person to bring him out.
On my other side sat Vasiliy. He’d insisted on forgoing his painkillers that morning so that he could be sharp, although he’d then proceeded to kill the pain with vodka instead. He stared at Roberta with as much venom as his son...and with a hint of something else, too, something I couldn’t quite read.
“Mr Malakov...and Mr. Malakov,” said Roberta as she reached us. Then, to me, “Arianna.”
Silence. I kicked Luka under the table.
He inclined his head. ‘You may call me Luka,” he growled.
Roberta turned to Vasiliy. “And may I call you Vasiliy?”
Vasiliy gave her a strange smile. “No. You may call me Mr. Malakov,” he said. His voice was velvety smooth.
Roberta blinked at him and sat down. It was strange, seeing her outside Langley. It reminded me of when we’d first met, when she’d recruited me. Once again, she was in a sharp suit—actually, an even sharper one. Of course, she could afford the upgraded wardrobe, now.