The Trade of Kings Read online

  “You two okay?”

  “Yep, we’re good.” Dianne nodded as she and Tina stepped inside and took off their shoes. “We buried one but the other got away.”

  “Mark said you nailed him in the back.” The reply came not from Sarah, but from Jason, who was sitting up on the couch, looking alert as he worked on disassembling and cleaning a semiautomatic pistol. “I’m surprised he got away.”

  “Must not have hit any vital organs.” Dianne raised an eyebrow at Jason. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the basement with Jacob and Josie?”

  Jason motioned toward the ceiling with an upward nod of his head. “After things died down out there I had them go up and stay with Mark. Figured it was better than all of us sitting around down there with nothing going on. More eyes and ears keeping watch, you know?”

  “Good thought.” Dianne shrugged off her coat. “You been keeping an eye on the cameras?”

  “I have,” Sarah replied, “but there’s been nothing on them except you two out there.”

  Dianne sighed heavily as she pulled a chair from the dining room into the living room and sat down in it. Her back, legs and arms all ached from the work she and Tina had put in, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and fall asleep. The appearance of the two men had, unfortunately, confirmed some of her worst fears, and taking a breather was out the window until she felt like the situation was resolved.

  “I want two people on each watch shift tonight,” Dianne finally said. “One splitting their time between windows and the cameras and one dedicated to the windows.”

  “You expecting something bad to happen, Dianne?” Jason looked up at her.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Dianne didn’t elaborate, but as a somber mood set in across the room, Dianne couldn’t help thinking about the possibilities of what might happen next. If the man in the blue jacket survived—which she suspected he did—then he would undoubtedly have made contact with his friends, and they would be on the way to the farm at that very moment. Dianne desperately wanted to do something to prepare for the probable arrival of the group from the gas station, but they had spent every waking moment of the prior three days preparing and there was nothing left to do but sit, watch and wait.

  And wait they did. Minutes ticked by slowly as the shadows outside grew longer and the moon began to trade places with the sun in the sky. The chatter of birdsong gave way to the creak and the whistle and the chirp of insects, along with the occasional hoot of a barn owl in search of a meal on a cold night. Dianne and Jason took the first watch, with Jason sitting near the back door looking through a crack in the wood down at the outbuildings with the tablet balanced on his lap. Dianne, meanwhile, meandered slowly through the rooms upstairs, slipping in and out of each bedroom to peer through the windows. She spent no more than half a minute at most at each window, scanning for signs of movement in the trees before moving on to the next spot. Sarah, Tina and the children all slept restlessly while she patrolled, and she was fairly certain that Mark wasn’t asleep at all.

  It was just after ten o’clock, right as Dianne was feeling drowsy enough that she was about to wake Mark and have him and Tina take the next shift, when the radio on her hip crackled softly. She plucked it from her belt and spoke quietly into it, glancing at Tina sleeping a few feet away.

  “You got something?”

  “Get down here right now, Dianne.” Jason’s voice had an indescribable edge to it, and the emphasis he put on the words made Dianne’s blood run cold. She bolted from the room and took the stairs three at a time, nearly crashing into the kitchen table as she raced through and into the living room. Jason sat there, staring at the tablet on his lap.

  “What is it?!” She whispered at him, still feeling her hairs standing on end.

  “Here.” He held out the tablet to her and she took it. The view was of the western side of the property, just off of the house. Thanks to the infrared view from the cameras she could see the fuzzy, green shapes of multiple individuals making their way through the trees. They were at least fifteen or twenty in number, spread throughout the trees, and they appeared to be maneuvering into a position where they could surround the house on the western side and to the south, around and beyond the driveway.

  Dianne stared at the men for several seconds before looking back up at Jason. “We have to deal with this quickly, before they can get into position to fire on us from multiple directions.”

  “There’s a view from the upstairs windows on their positions, right?”

  “Yep. I’m going to get Tina and Sarah up. You need to get in the basement with Jacob and Josie, okay?”

  “But I can—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Jason. You’re still having enough mobility problems that I don’t want you trying to get up and down the stairs and trying to move around quickly.” She stood up and started heading back toward the front of the house. “I’m going to get the kids down to you and then we’re going to open fire on these assholes. If something goes wrong, use the tunnel in the basement and get them out into the woods, okay? Get as far away as you possibly can.”

  “Dianne…” Jason hesitated, considered arguing with her again, then thought better of it. “Fine. I’ll head down now. Try to keep me posted if things start getting ugly though, okay?”

  Dianne reached down to her two-way radio and pressed a button on the front, then slid a small switch to one side. “There. It’s in open mode now. You’ll hear everything we say.” With that, Dianne was gone, turning the corner to run back to the front of the house, up the stairs and straight to Tina and Sarah’s sides. It took just a few seconds to rouse them and the children, and in less than a minute from when Dianne first heard Jason’s news, Jacob and Josie were in the basement, Mark had retrieved weapons for himself and Sarah and the four of them stood at the edges of the upper windows in the house, quietly calling out what they could see.

  The scene was largely the same as what Dianne had watched on the tablet from the security cameras, except it was in shades of black and white with a hint of color instead of blurry green. Multiple figures slowly walked all throughout the woods on the west and south side of the house. A pair of them stood in the driveway, gesturing at both each other and the nail-filled boards that lay across the dirt and gravel. The lack of a vehicle puzzled Dianne until she realized that they had likely held off on bringing in anything loud until they were in position.

  “We’ve got the element of surprise.” Dianne whispered to Tina as she pointed at the men in the driveway. “I don’t think they know that we know they’re here.”

  “Looks like they’re about to move the nail boards. Probably to bring in a truck or something.” Tina snorted. “I think they need to get a rude awakening.”

  Dianne smiled coldly. “Yes, they do.” She reached for the window latch and lifted it gently, then began turning the crank on the window. The house had been built with crank-style windows in all of the rooms, and she was glad that Rick had kept them well-oiled despite how little they were used. The window opened quietly with the tiniest hint of a snap as the stuck-together paint separated. Next to Dianne, Tina opened the adjacent window. Once both of the windows were open, the women took aim at the men in the driveway with their rifles.

  “Ready?” Dianne whispered faintly.

  “Let’s get this party started,” Tina replied with growl.

  Chapter 6

  Washington, D.C.

  On any day before the event, the sight of four Russians—all dressed in black and two armed to the teeth with a variety of weapons—would have sent Washington into a lockdown. Amid the smoke and smoldering ruins of buildings that weren’t fortunate enough to escape from being burned from the inside out, though, the sight made more sense. Marginally, at least.

  The two Spetsnaz officers led the charge down the sidewalk, keeping their pace at a fast jog. Even weighted down as they were with their weapons and supplies, they could have easily tripled their speed, but the pair of technicians were
the weak link when it came to getting around. Oles and Jacob lagged several paces back, breathing hard and holding their sides as they struggled to keep up with Ostap and Carl.

  The route Ostap had chosen took them the long way around to the far north of the compound, crossing through the collapsed buildings that he had earlier dismissed as a possible route. With the three individuals inside the compound now a target for saving rather than killing, Ostap determined that they needed to get around the back side of the compound so that they could catch the group of enemies with a frontal assault and—hopefully—defend Dr. Evans as well as the pair with him.

  “I can’t believe you’re listening to that egghead.” Carl spat as he spoke, turning his head slightly to give a nasty glare at the two technicians who were hurrying to keep up with the commandos.

  “As much as I’d like to kill everyone and let someone else sort it all out, we have our orders. If this Dr. Evans is who they claim he is, he could be the key to ensuring our success, both here and… later.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange, him being here in the same city at the same time as we are? It feels like too much of a coincidence for me.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences.” Ostap ran his tongue across his teeth. “Which is why we’re going to be very, very cautious.”

  Carl rolled his eyes but said nothing. While he and Ostap held the same rank, the small size and special nature of the mission meant that Ostap had been put in charge. Carl was frustrated by a great many things—Ostap, babysitting the technicians and being in a foreign country—but he was loyal and did as he was instructed no matter what he personally thought or wanted.

  After crossing to the north and heading west to arrive at the northern edge of the compound, Ostap and Carl used a pair of ropes and hooks to get over the wall. Well-trained in unorthodox methods of combat and movement, they made the ascension with ease, though the two technicians were left standing on the ground looking up. Carl dropped down into the compound first, while Ostap crouched on top of the wall and whispered down at Oles and Jacob.

  “Stay low, keep quiet, and wait till we radio you to come in.”

  “How’re we supposed to get in?” Oles looked up and whispered back, gesturing with futility at the rope.

  “Just go around front!” Ostap shook his head in frustration before dropping down next to Carl. “Idiots. I hate babysitting.”

  “Now, now…” Carl tutted in a mocking tone.

  A shout from around the building in front of the two Spetsnaz officers made them both close their mouths as their attitudes shifted from casual interest in their environment to being on high alert. Ostap was the first to charge forward, heading to the back door of the building with Carl in tow. They entered the building quietly and moved toward the front, keeping their footsteps quiet and communicating only through hand signals. Each room in the bottom floor of the rectangular building was cleared swiftly, and they soon found themselves near the front door.

  Ostap was just about ready to take a peek out through the window on the front door when there was another shout from outside.

  “Oye! They’re up there! Get after them!”

  Carl, standing just feet away on the other side of the double doors, looked at Ostap and the two men nodded to each other. The call from outside was accompanied by the sound of several individuals running for the building, right toward the door where the two Russians were standing. The people outside were chasing down someone on an upper floor based on what one of them had said, and though that information was limited, it was more than enough for the two hyper-trained, elite soldiers to use.

  While Ostap stayed near the door, just inside to the left, Carl pulled back a few more feet, ducking inside the first room on the right that offered him both cover and a clear view of the entrance to the building. Seconds later the front door flew open and two people ran in, one carrying a machete and the other wielding a pistol. Ostap remained still as the pair flew past him, not even bothering to watch where they went as he didn’t yet want to give away his position. When the two men were but a few steps away from the room that Carl was in, the Spetsnaz officer popped out of the room with his suppressed pistol in hand. Four rounds spat from the barrel, two for each of the intruders’ chests and heads.

  No sooner had the bodies of the men collapsed to the floor than another three entered the building, shouting and yelling at each other as they saw the bodies of their comrades lying on the ground. Carl fired several more shots in their direction just as Ostap did the same, their combined close-quarters fire bringing down the three before they could do so much as raise a weapon in retaliation.

  Outside, the leader of the gang’s eyes widened in surprise and he shouted at his people to fall back. A few huddled behind the vehicle while the others, already in the process of running into the building, stacked up against the walls just outside the door. Bursts of gunfire came from behind the vehicle, slamming into the still-open door and decorative windows around it, and Ostap turned to shield his face from the exploding glass. The walls of the building were more than thick enough to absorb the small arms fire aimed in his direction, but with the incoming fire intensifying it would be difficult for him to do much in return.

  Down the hall, Carl stepped out of cover and fired through the open doorway with his rifle, aiming for the general direction of the car parked in the middle of the compound. Ostap moved back down the hall at the same time, using Carl’s distraction as an opportunity to get away from the front hall and take cover in the next room down from Carl, on the opposite side of the hall.

  Outside, behind the vehicle, the leader of the gang snarled as he watched the two figures draped in black retreat deeper into the building, realizing that his overwhelming numbers had just been sliced nearly in half and that it was about to get much, much harder to take out the entrenched enemy within. As someone who had risen to his position in MS-13 through brutal, inelegant violence instead of tactical genius, though, he was ill-equipped to think of any other way to deal with his enemy than taking them head-on. The loss of five good men angered him greatly, and his outlet for anger was simple: more violence.

  Foregoing his previous caution, the leader of the group kicked at the others huddled behind the car, forcing them out as he screamed obscenities at them and the others closer to the building. The gang members were lethargic as they moved toward the building, their initial enthusiasm sapped since five of their group had been slaughtered almost instantly. Fear over their leader won out as he continued to kick and curse at them, and they eventually piled up around the door and flooded inside. The bodies of their fallen lay strewn about, dark red blood pooling on the tile floor, but despite how quickly they had died, there were no gunshots as the rest of the group entered the building. The gang members moved slowly down the hall, gripping their pipes, crowbars, pistols, shotguns and rifles as they chattered amongst themselves, none of them wanting to be in front in case the black figures were still lurking around.

  At the opposite end of the hall, near the door leading to the stairwell, Carl and Ostap stood in rooms on either side of the passage, hidden from the view of the men walking toward them. Carl was one room farther up the corridor from Ostap, ensuring that they had a wide field of crossfire open to them. Ostap pressed his shoulder against the doorframe as he manipulated a tiny mirror attached to the end of a thin, retractable piece of metal. The mirror offered just enough of a vantage on the approaching men that he was able to make hand signals to Carl, letting the other Spetsnaz officer know exactly how close the gang was getting.

  Fear was palpable amongst the group in the narrow hallway, and it was growing by the second. Each empty darkened room that they passed only served to heighten their fear, making them paranoid and increasing the quiet murmurs between them. Used to violence on wide, open streets where their numbers dropped only by one or two during heavy conflicts, walking past five of their members who had been slaughtered inside a dark, tight building was something they hadn’
t prepared for. The fear that they had spent years of their lives inflicting upon others had been turned around on them in an instant, and all by two shadows that they had barely seen and heard.

  “Move faster, pendejos!” The leader of the group pushed and shoved the others in front of him, being careful not to expose himself too much in any direction. “It’s just two of them!”

  “Plus the three upstairs.” The woman who had walked up the drive with him whispered in his ear, and he responded with a sharp glare.

  “We still have them outnumbered. They were running scared!” His voice rose in volume slightly and his gaze flicked between the rooms in the hall. His best attempt at bravery was faltering, and the others with him noticed.

  The unfortunate soul walking at the front of the group, gripping a sawed-off shotgun in his hands and wearing a blue and black bandana, was one of the youngest and newest recruits. His “13” tattoos on his arms were still fresh, the skin still inflamed in patches and the hair not fully grown back from where it had been shaved during the tattoo sessions that took place just before the event.

  His hands shook and his heart thumped hard and fast as the others behind him pressed him forward, making him feel like he was going to pass out. He struggled against the feelings, though, mostly to try and impress the leader of the group and the one who had personally recruited him. Sweat trickled down his face and he wiped at it with his upper arm, trying to stay focused and alert.

  His recruitment into MS-13 had required escalating stages of initiations, culminating in the midnight murder of an elderly resident in a neighborhood just outside D.C. He hadn’t wanted to kill the old man, but not doing so would have meant punishment, or possibly his own death. He had been nervous then, but still efficient, killing the old man quickly and with minimal noise. While he was young, he was strong and capable, with plenty of muscles and the smarts to use them. In any other situation he could have gone on to greatness in some field or another, but instead he became the newest member of MS-13.