Horrified, Alex pushed back from the window and grabbed at the hatch to the turret. As soon as it was open, she pulled herself up and pivoted the gun around, aiming it at the pickup.
Running on pure adrenaline, she let loose a steady burst of gunfire, riddling the truck and its occupants with holes.
When she was done, there was little of the vehicle left untouched.
Alex had blamed Cooper for the deaths of their colleagues, and had requested a transfer out of their platoon, which was denied.
She had known, even then, that Cooper had given the only orders he could, and by doing so had saved her life.
But that hadn’t brought Millwood and Chambers back.
Nor had it quelled the feelings of self-doubt that had plagued her ever since.
Why hadn’t she reacted faster?
Why hadn’t Cooper let her stay just a moment longer? Long enough to get that door open and pull Millwood and Chambers to safety? And what about Sanchez and Drew and Boyd and all the others?
Why were they gone, too?
Why their lives instead of hers?
There weren’t any real answers to these questions, of course. Fate had taken her colleagues — her friends. And there was little that she, or Cooper, could have done about it.
It wasn’t until the Stonewell jet came in sight of the Iberian Peninsula that Alex was finally able to close her eyes and fall asleep.
Chapter Ten
They landed an hour before dawn at a small private airfield just outside Galati. An Immigration and Customs official met them on the tarmac, stamped their passports, and welcomed them to the country.
Once those formalities were complete, Cooper excused himself and jogged over to a building that served as the airfield’s terminal. Alex and Deuce used the time to stretch muscles that had been cramped by hours of flight.
Deuce eyed the dark countryside. “So, this is where Dracula’s from, right?”
Alex shook her head. “That’s north of here. Probably a couple hundred miles.”
“Oh,” Deuce said. He looked around some more. “That’s probably good, huh?”
“You do know Dracula’s fictional, right?”
“Sure. But it’s always good to be safe.”
There were times when Alex didn’t know if Deuce was messing with her or just being Deuce. It was part of his charm — when it wasn’t annoying.
A few minutes later, Cooper returned via a baggage van driven by a member of the airport crew.
“We’ve got to get you to your ride,” he said to Alex.
She picked up the bag she’d been given by Stonewell. The well-worn, faded green backpack and the nondescript clothes she was wearing helped reinforce the just-another-summer-backpacker-making-her-way-through-Europe cover.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Cooper opened the back door of the baggage van, and both Alex and Deuce climbed on board.
“Take the passenger seat,” he told her. There were no chairs in the back, only the hard metal floor.
She was about to argue, but decided, Screw it. Things were going to get very unpleasant for her pretty damn soon. Might as well take advantage of what comfort she could now.
She looked out the windshield as they drove into Galati, noting her surroundings as she always did. It took only a few minutes before that old feeling returned to her, that sense of elsewhere that always hit her when she was out of the States — not a bad feeling, not a good one. Just different, brought on by the sense of age in the buildings and the land and the people themselves.
The city was in the process of waking and traffic was light. A few cars, some bikes, and a handful of pedestrians. While above, the stars were quickly receding, daylight pushing ever forward across the sky.
When they reached the edge of the Danube, the city abruptly stopped. They drove parallel to the river for several blocks, then the van braked to a halt.
“This is you,” Cooper said to Alex.
He opened the door and they climbed out. He then looked at his phone for a moment.
“Okay,” he said. “There.” He pointed toward a building down the street. “That’s Hotel Vega.” He glanced at his watch. “Your bus will arrive in forty minutes. The receptionist in the hotel is holding a ticket for you.”
Alex took a deep breath, and nodded.
“If something happens before you’re able to get to Crimea, call the number we gave you, then hunker down until we can come get you.”
“Right,” she said. “Got it.”
“If everything goes to hell once you reach the peninsula, get to the safe point. We’ll be checking it twice every day. At ten a.m. and p.m.”
She nodded again.
“Any questions?”
The only questions she had were for herself. Was she crazy? Was trying to track down her father worth the risk she was taking? She looked at Deuce and he had an expression on his face that told her it wasn’t too late to back out. That said he wanted her to back out.
“No,” she said to Cooper. “I’m good.”
“You sure?” Deuce said, eyeing her intently.
“I’m sure.” She smiled. “And don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid if you don’t.”
“Look where we’re standing, Alex. We’ve already failed that test.”
For a moment, none of them spoke, then Deuce opened his arms and she hugged him.
“We can go home right now,” he whispered.
“I’ll be okay.”
“I can’t watch your back in there.”
“I know.”
“So don’t you dare get yourself hurt.”
“It’s not part of my plan.”
He grimaced, shaking his head as he let her loose. “It never is.”
Cooper held out a hand. “No matter what happens, we won’t leave you in there.”
She stiffened slightly as they shook, the memory of Millwood and Chambers still a raw nerve. “Good to know,” she said, then donned her pack and adjusted the straps. “I guess I’ll see you on the other side.”
With a quick wave, she turned and started walking toward the hotel.
In unplanned unison, Cooper and Deuce called out, “Alex.”
She turned and looked at one, then the other, eyebrows raised.
The men glanced at each other, then Deuce blurted out, “Be careful.”
She gave him a smile, then looked at Cooper.
“That’s, um, actually what I was going to say, too,” he told her.
“I’ll do my best,” she said.
Without another word, she headed down the road.
Chapter Eleven
Despite what others might have believed, Alex was only fluent in English. She did, however, have an excellent grasp of her mother’s native Farsi, and a more than adequate, conversational knowledge of French — also thanks to her mother. But beyond those, she knew only a handful of phrases in Arabic, from her time in Iraq, and a few in German that were best not spoken in public. The last, compliments of Emerick.
None of those could help her now. She had zero knowledge of Romanian, a fact that was reinforced the moment the receptionist at the Hotel Vega greeted her.
“Cu ce vă pot ajuta?”
“I’m sorry,” Alex said, offering her an apologetic smile. “I don’t understand.”
A light seemed to go on in the face of the woman across the counter. “Ah. England?”
“Canada, actually. You speak English?”
“Little bit. May I help you?”
“I think you have a bus ticket waiting for me to pick up.”
The woman’s brow creased as she bit her lip, uncertain. “Bus ticket. You have for me.”
“No,” Alex said, tapping her own chest with a forefinger. “For me. You have one for me.”