It was incredible how three little words could have such an impact. He'd gone a lifetime without saying those words to a woman. His relationships had never lasted more than a few months. They usually ended whenever he had to go on the next assignment. He'd liked those women-respected them-and enjoyed them. But he'd never loved any one of them. Not like he did Tess. The sincerity of her words had left him speechless, and he'd only been able to hold onto her a little longer-kiss her a little deeper.
"Ah, that sight never gets old," Elias said, interrupting his thoughts.
"Up close and personal," he said. "Let's roll."
Their faces were streaked with black paint, and they wore leather gloves and balaclavas, along with helmets. They'd be rappelling from more than a hundred and fifty feet in the air.
They loaded up silently and hooked themselves into the rappelling gear, checking the nylon ropes and the attachments. They tested their comm units and gave the thumbs-up. Then it was go-time.
The helicopter went straight up, and Deacon's stomach dropped out from under him with a sense of adrenaline. It was always his favorite part of the ride. The doors were open, and the cool night air rushed in as they ascended higher and traveled across the city. A much better ascent than going up in the closed space of the cargo plane.
Egorov had kept nighttime lights to a minimum, hoping to keep his operation hidden, so when they arrived at the warehouses only the yellow glow of a few spotlights could be seen. They hovered high above the darkest building.
Deacon looked to Elias since he was in charge of all the ropes-the rappel master-and Elias tugged on each length of nylon, checking it one more time. Deacon tossed his deployment bag out the side of the helicopter and watched the rope fall to the roof of the closest warehouse. The others each did the same in turn.
Elias gave the nod and Deacon moved into position, sitting in the open doorway, his legs swinging out. When Elias gave the signal, he turned his body so his feet rested against the door frame and he faced the others. His left hand went to the small of his back where the brake was located. Axel mirrored him on the other side of the chopper.
On Elias's go signal, they both pushed off with their feet, and the rope slid through Deacon's hand as he sped to the ground. He saw the deployment bags from the others drop down next to his and knew they were only seconds behind him. He braked and slowed his descent when he was almost to the roof of the warehouse.
And then his feet touched down silently and he stood still, waiting for the rope to drop after him. He wound it up and put it in his deployment bag as the others landed also, and then a few seconds later, Elias dropped down next to them and the Black Hawk was gone. They removed their helmets and replaced them with black balaclavas.
They each had a target and an assignment, and they scattered off the roof and down to the ground, finding a place to stash their deployment bags. If they were lucky, Egorov or Levkin would be somewhere inside the warehouses, getting ready to send off their shipments. If they were really lucky, they'd both be inside.
Deacon waited in the shadows behind the warehouse he'd been assigned to. The noise had picked up from inside and there was plenty of movement. They were getting ready to deploy the trucks and head to their destinations. Deacon had his knife in his left hand and his right hand free. He moved behind several stacked crates, keeping to the shadows.
The warehouses were equipped with large doors on the front and backside. Big enough for a couple of eighteen-wheelers to drive in one side and out the other. The back door was closed, but there was a smaller, standard-size door that two men walked through.
They both wore jeans and T-shirts, and were probably somewhere in their early forties. They immediately lit up cigarettes and began to speak in Russian. Or at least one of them did. The other grunted on occasion and sucked down his cigarette as fast as he could, and then he lit up another.
Deacon caught Levkin's name and listened a little closer. He knew how to be still and wait for the right moment to strike. Just a little closer. The man who was sucking down cigarettes was nervous. He moved constantly as his friend talked, and if he backed up just a little more he'd be within reach.
Levkin was inside one of the warehouses. Apparently he was a real tyrant now that they were in the end game, and everyone was pissed their payments had been delayed. Egorov was supposed to have showed up that morning to pay them in cash, but he'd never come. And the men were getting restless. A lot was at stake.
The chain smoker had finished another cigarette, and Deacon could tell they were about to go back inside. They both moved toward the door and he came up behind them. He slid his knife neatly between the chain smoker's third and fourth ribs, pushing up as he did so to pierce the heart. It was the quietest and least messy way to kill someone. Deacon withdrew his knife and moved to the next one.