“No follicle implants with tracking devices,” she volunteered helpfully.
“Shut up,” said the first man.
They herded her to the waiting Range Rover and pushed her in. On the ride they chattered away in a language she’d never heard before. They looked hard and tough; their gaunt faces and lean, athletic physiques evidenced an existence far removed from the typical comforts enjoyed by folks in the West. The Range Rover slowed after driving for what Mace had calculated was eight miles, all on back roads. The silhouette of a large structure suddenly appeared out of the darkness. As the vehicle approached, a stark break in the darkness suddenly appeared as two large double doors were opened. The Rover drove through this gap and stopped. The wide doors closed and the men climbed out of the Rover, pulling Mace with them.
She stood there and looked around. They were in what seemed to be an old manufacturing facility. There was a large open area where rusted tables were situated along with a wrecked conveyor belt. Piles of junked tools lay around the littered floor. A catwalk ran around the perimeter of the second level and a lift chain was suspended from the center of the A-frame ceiling and descended straight down until it stopped about eight feet from the floor. A row of metal support posts ran down the middle of the building, bisecting it. The only light came from a single bank of fluorescents hung overhead controlled by a power box on the wall next to the double doors.
“Roy!”
Roy was sitting on his butt and tied to one of the support poles. He called out furiously, “Why the hell did you come?”
“I told you it was what I would do,” said a voice.
Mace turned to see Mary Bard walking toward her from the other end of the building. She was dressed in tight black pants, a short-waisted jean jacket, and thick-soled boots.
“I’m here,” said Mace. “So why don’t we get this done.”
“You are too impatient,” said Bard.
Mace glanced over at Roy. “What do I need to do so he goes free?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” shouted Roy as he struggled to stand.
“What do I need to do?” Mace said again.
“I’m afraid there is nothing you can do.”
“So you just kill us both? Others know about this. They won’t let it drop.”
“But we won’t have to worry about the two of you anymore.”
Bard slipped the pair of knives that she had used to kill Reiger and Hope from a holder riding on the back of her belt.
Roy looked helplessly at Mace as Bard advanced. “Mace, she’s some kind of hand-to-hand combat freak. She laid me out in like a second.”
“Well, Roy, and don’t take this the hard way, but you’re just not that tough.”
Bard stopped her advance and eyed Mace, the dual knives motionless in her hands. “And you think you are?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I? I mean, Reiger and Hope tried to kill me but didn’t get the job done.”
“They were incompetent.”
“And that’s why you were ordered to kill them, right?”
Bard’s eyes glittered at this comment. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“You’re from Russia. Federal Security Service.”
“I am impressed. I thought my accent was gone.”
“It wasn’t a guess on my part. I hear you guys are like the best assassins out there, except for maybe the Israelis.”
“I will try not to disappoint you tonight.”
“I’ve got a knife in my belt clasp. How about you let me use it to defend myself? It’s still two blades against one, but it’ll be a little fairer. I’m clearly not in your league, but I’ve got a few moves. Let you practice your stuff for the next time.”
Bard looked around at the heavily armed men surrounding Mace. “All right.”
“But—” began one of the men.
She barked something in the man’s tongue and he fell silent.
While the other men pointed their guns at Mace, she undid her clasp and slid out the knife. She examined the slightly dulled blade. “This baby got me out of a very tough situation.”
“I don’t think it will work again.”
Bard started moving in a circle, the blades twirling in front of her.
Mace stood flat-footed, studying the other woman’s tactics.
Bard said, “No tears? No begging for mercy?”
“Everybody has to die one day.”
“And this is your day.”
“Or yours,” said Mace.
CHAPTER 110
WHAT THE HELL happened, Jarvis?”
Beth was standing in her office in front of a large-screen TV with a remote feed that Jarvis Burns’s techs had set up. After leaving the WFO the previous night, Beth