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“It’s five stories deep,” I say as the elevator takes us down. “Back in the Cold War, it held an entire command center, capable of overseeing the armed forces should the government need to evacuate Washington.”
“Cool.”
Judging by how far her jaw drops, I don’t think she realized how big the subterranean complex would be: an entire facility, complete with barracks for our agents, a cafeteria, training rooms, a recreation lounge, a shooting range, an armory and an operation center.
“Whoa,” she says as we enter the gym. Two rows of men and women do push-ups as an instructor leads. “Who are all these people?”
“My network; people I’ve recruited over the course of my career. Also, enemies of Anton. You see him?” I ask, pointing at Nasir. “He was one of Hamza Bin Khaled’s men. We gave him an opportunity to join us, and he did.”
“Wow. He didn’t mind that you killed his boss and friends?”
I shrug.
“He didn’t take it personally. And we would have killed him otherwise.”
“Of course.”
“They’ve all been vetted. They’re all trustworthy,” I add. “Some are in it for the money. Some have scores to settle. All of them are highly-skilled and loyal. We might not have as many mercenaries as Anton, but ours are the best.”
We stay and watch a little while, then I take Kate’s hand and lead her to the shooting range. Eight booths long and stocked with a selection of pistols, shotguns and rifles, the range extends a hundred feet, allowing for training at a variety of distances.
“I know you’ve learned to shoot before,” I say. “Since you’re here, I’d like you to practice on a regular basis. Get familiar with a variety of weapons, improve your accuracy and reloading. I’ll always protect you, but I’d like you to be deadly all by yourself.”
“Sure,” Kate replies. “It’ll give me something to do.”
I smirk.
“Oh, I’m going to keep you busy. I’d like you to train in hand-to-hand combat to build on your self-defense skills. And I intend to spend a lot of time with you for some very intensive workouts.”
She chuckles.
“I should hope so. And I’d already thought of kickboxing or something if my life ever got back to normal. Can you teach me that?”
It’s my turn to laugh.
“No, not kickboxing. Ever heard of Krav Maga?”
“Sure,” she says. “A style developed by the Israelis. Eyal?”
I nod.
“He’ll teach you, when he can. Come on, for now let’s see you shoot.”
Smiling, we don our headgear and head into the range. She picks out a Colt handgun, a Mossberg pump shotgun and an M16. Before we even start shooting, I watch her load and unload the guns for a half hour. When she finally gets in the booth, she’s eager to begin.
“Let’s see your stance.”
Kate points the gun at the target sheet, shoulders straight, feet planted and knees flexed.
“Good.”
I move the target to twenty feet.
“Let’s see your aim.”
She opens fire, one shot at a time, perforating the sheet with well-placed shots. The first five hit center mass; the last three hit the head. I can’t help but recall how she dispatched Victor.
“Kate, if you’d grown up a little differently, you might have made a good assassin.”
