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“What happened?” asked an Englishman standing outside a café. His clothes were clean as opposed to Juan’s dust-covered work clothes.
“I think some sort of construction accident,” Cabrillo lied, coughing.
“Dear God. Do you think anybody was hurt?”
Juan looked back at the settling cloud. “Not a soul,” he said, knowing this time he was telling the truth.
Rudolph Isphording knew a little about how the Russians were going to pull off his rescue, so he wasn’t as stunned as the guard in the back of the van with him when they heard the screech of brakes and the crash of metal from a traffic accident. The big truck came to a sudden stop. But when an instant later the building next to the courthouse seemed to collapse, Isphording’s fear was genuine.
Neither he nor the corrections officer could see anything out the small view ports that had been installed into the side of the vehicle, nor could they comprehend what was happening when the truck suddenly began to sway. They could both feel the slight centrifugal force, as if they were going around a gentle curve. Then the motion stopped, the truck pendulumed for a moment, and there was a slight bump followed by a low-pitched mechanical whine and a loud crash over their heads.
Just seconds later came a new sensation of movement, only this time Isphording was sure that the van was on the road again. Outside their armored box they could see nothing but darkness. The guard tried his cell phone but couldn’t get a signal and could only communicate with the two men in the cab by banging on the bulkhead that separated them.
For thirty-five minutes they could feel the motion as the van was moved out of the city. They could sense and hear the truck accelerate as it reached a highway, and later slow and twist around curves as it left the major thoroughfare. Not long after, all motion stopped. Wherever the Russians, Yuri Zayysev and the woman, Ludmilla, who’d pretended to be Kara, were taking him, Isphording assumed they’d arrived.
He and his guard waited in silence for something to happen. The minutes crept by slowly.
What the lawyer couldn’t see from the back of the armored van was that Linc and the others were waiting for Juan to arrive. As soon as he pulled his Mercedes SUV between the tractor trailer and Julia’s Volkswagen, Hali closed the big overhead door. Because of the overcast sky, the light coming through the opaque skylights cast the big warehouse in murky shadow. Hali snapped on a few overhead lamps, but it did little to soften the building’s gloomy air.
Cabrillo’s SUV was powdered with cement dust, and the chairman himself was grimy. He accepted a damp cloth from Julia to wipe the worst of the dust from his face. He also drank down a half liter of water. “So far, so good,” he congratulated his people. “Looks like no one had any trouble getting here, so let’s open this tin can and finish it. Linc, I couldn’t tell when I lowered the truck into the rig, which way is it facing?”
“It’s facing the rear doors.”
“That should make this a little easier.” Juan grabbed a Heckler&Koch MP-5 machine pistol from a workbench and slid the strap over his shoulder. He also palmed a pair of round grenades. They were dummy practice grenades but would look indistinguishable from the real things to the guards in the van. He passed around black ski masks to everyone and lowered his over his face so only his eyes and mouth were exposed. The others had also armed themselves with an assortment of pistols and machine guns.
Once everyone was ready at the rear of the trailer, he unlatched the door. He gave his people a five-second countdown and swung open the door with a jerk. All five of them swarmed up inside the trailer, jumping onto the van’s long hood, waving their weapons and shouting incoherently. The Swiss driver and the guard riding shotgun had service pistols in their hands, but through the bulletproof glass they were at a standoff. Before the driver could start the engine and try to drive out of the trailer, Juan leered into the windscreen and showed off the grenades.
He pointed at each man and then at the doors before pulling the pin from one of the grenades. There was no mistaking his intention.
The guards maintained their defiant look but knew there was nothing they could do. They laid the weapons on the dashboard and slowly reached for the door handles. As soon as the doors unlocked, a member of the team was ready with plastic-tie handcuffs, blindfolds, and gags. Hali yanked the key ring from the driver’s polished belt and tossed it to Juan.
The chairman climbed over the top of the armored van and jumped lightly to the floor of the trailer. On the fifth attempt he inserted the correct key into the lock, but before he turned it, he nodded to one of his men.
If anything went wrong there was no reason for Kara and Rudolph Isphording to be able to give the same description of Yuri Zayssev, so he had General Operations specialist Michael Trono call out in Russian-accented English, “To the guard in there with Herr Isphording. Your two comrades have already been subdued. They will not be harmed, and neither will you. I am going to open the door just enough for you to toss out your weapon. If you do not, I will be forced to use tear gas. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” the guard responded.
“Herr Isphording, how many guns does the guard have?”
“Just a pistol,” the lawyer replied.
“Very good. Has he removed it from its holster?”
“Yes.”
“That is very wise of you,” Trono said. “Herr Isphording, take the gun from him and move to the rear door. I am opening it now. Toss the weapon onto the floor.”
Cabrillo cracked open the heavy door, and a black revolver clattered off the rear bumper. Hali and Julia had joined them, their weapons at the ready. Juan nodded to them and heaved the door all the way open. The frightened guard sat on a bench that ran along one wall of the van. He understood enough of the situation to have already laced his fingers on top of his head. Hali cuffed, gagged, and blindfolded him while Julia helped the paunchy lawyer from the vehicle. The other two guards were shoved into the back of the van, and Juan locked them in.
Isphording saw five armed commandos, some wearing work clothes, others all in black. One had the curves of a woman, and he guessed it was Ludmilla. “Is one of you Yuri Zayysev?” he asked eagerly.
“Da,” one of the commandos answered. His work clothes were streaked with gray powder, and when he stripped off his mask, his face was still streaked with dust. His hair was red, like Isphording had been told to expect, and his beard had been trimmed to a ruddy goatee.
“Mr. Savich sends his compliments, Rudolph.” The man used the name Isphording himself had provided. “Of course, he couldn’t meet you in person, but you will see him soon enough. There is an office at the back of the warehouse. Ludmilla will take you there. We’ll leave here in a few minutes.”
Julia had taken off her mask so that the attorney could see that she was
the woman he knew as Ludmilla, although she wasn’t wearing the disguise.
