life. But I am not to blame for his death. It was the British who put me in England with retaliation on my mind . . . they are the culprits, and today, finally, they will pay for what they’ve done. The entire Five Eyes will pay.”
Zoya snorted an angry laugh. “The sky above the castle is a no-fly zone. Your crop duster will be obliterated.”
Still Zoya realized her father seemed unconcerned about this. He said, “We will be leaving soon, before your friends arrive. I’ve lost visibility about what the Americans are doing—my man on the inside of the CIA has been captured—but my contacts in British law enforcement and the police will alert me the moment any movement to conduct an operation against me has begun.”
Zoya suddenly realized her father had miscalculated. Hanley was using one team from Ground Branch and two Poison Apple assets. As far as she knew he was not in contact with British or Scottish authorities at all about the attack he had planned, so there was no way her father’s contacts could warn him when it was on the way.
She didn’t reveal any of this. Instead she just repeated herself. “Your plane will never make it to its target.”
When she said this her father holstered his gun under his jacket and turned for the door. “It doesn’t have to, darling. If you think we told Dr. Won the full scope and breadth of our plan, then you underestimate your father’s intelligence. She designed and built the weapon, but I alone wrote the plan for my retributive strike.”
Zoya’s heart sank. He had something else in mind, not the crop duster. The Americans knew of no other plot against Castle Enrick. If she didn’t find a way to warn them, she worried they would think the danger was over when the plane went down.
CHAPTER 58
Court Gentry’s eyes opened slowly, and he found himself staring at the back of a shit-brown sofa. It took a moment more to remember his last thoughts before he went out, and even before he had a clear idea of where he was and what had happened, his body began reminding him about his myriad pains, located from head to toe. His left hand was the worst; it throbbed and hurt like a small car was driving over it, back and forth, over and over.
He then realized why he’d awakened just now. A banging on the front door seemed to shake the entire building. Court’s first inclination was to get back to the bedroom and grab his pistol, but he’d just made it up onto his forearms when the front door came crashing in, fifteen feet away.
Zack Hightower flew into the living room behind it. He’d slammed his shoulder against the door to smash it, which gave Court the impression he’d been knocking for some time before going to such extremes.
Hightower looked around the room and finally saw Court, still on the floor, still bleary-eyed and disoriented.
The jarring sound of Hightower’s voice penetrated through the cobwebs in Court’s brain. “What the hell you doing, you lazy fuck?”
Court’s words were garbled from the drugs. “What . . . what are you doing?”
“Coming to get you two. Brewer’s been ringing your phone off the hook for an hour. Where’s Marina?”
“Who?”
“Oswald. Where’s the Russian? In the shower?” The water still ran in the bathroom down the hall. “Fuckin’ women.”
Court was still coming to. “She’s, she’s gone. She . . . I guess she drugged me. She’s going after her dad.”
Zack approached, knelt down closer. “How the hell did you let her drug you?”
Court did not answer; instead he struggled to sit up without touching his left hand against anything, and Zack saw his predicament. “I got you.” He pulled Court to his feet. His knees were wobbly. “What did she dose you with?”
“M99, I think.”
“Cold-blooded bitch. I told you that you had to watch her.”
“I’ll be all right. In a minute.” He grabbed Zack’s arm and pulled it up, then looked at the watch on Zack’s wrist. “Eight a.m. She’s been gone over an hour.”
Zack said, “’Bout a forty-minute drive time from here to Zakharov’s lair. If she went straight there, she’s on scene now.”
“Shit,” Court said.
Zack snorted. “Face it, Six. Your girlfriend’s got daddy issues.”
“She went to kill her father.”
“Bro, what did I just say? Langley’s now hiring fucking Russian spooks who want to kill their dads, who themselves are bent on killing thousands. Who in the fuck is driving this clown car