“I could run the plates quickly.”
“Great idea,” Bodie said. “Do it.”
Cassidy was impressed to see Gunn thinking so clearly under pressure. Perhaps he had a future on the team after all. Some people could just surprise you, she guessed.
She peered through the windshield. “I see five men to the left, four more in front of the cars along with two women. I see two silhouettes inside the middle car — probably the bosses. Rear view is blind. You guys see anything?”
“Not since I opened my eyes again,” Cross grumbled. “But then my brain is still spinning.”
“Smaller objects do rotate for longer,” Gunn said as he clicked at his laptop. “I think.”
Cross peered ahead. “Any ideas?”
“Well, they’re not traffic cops,” Jemma said. “Someone is going to have to get out and talk to them and show we can match their firepower.”
“I have a bad feeling,” Bodie said. “I’ve seen tattoos like that before. Stand strong and aggressive. Show absolutely no weakness.”
“Not a problem.” Cassidy clicked her door open before he could say more, and watched the reactions of the gathering. “They’re staying cool,” she said. “Not the best sign and not the worst.”
She saw the middle SUV shift as the rear doors opened. A large, middle-aged bald man stepped out, followed by an older figure, also large, dressed in a beige suit. The latter wore a black fedora with a silk band. She watched as he walked patiently to the front end of his car. Still reflecting on Bodie’s words, she found herself studying the wealth of black tattoos on show.
Gunn rattled off all he could see in the short span of time. “Could be worse, I guess, but not by much. Obviously, the vehicles are registered through a shell corporation that belongs to an international bank. A quick exploration of its lineage leads us to Viktor Davydov, the current deputy head of the Moroccan branch of the…” His frightened gasp swallowed the next word, so he repeated it. “Bratva.”
Bodie nodded grimly. “I thought as much. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
“I need more time to figure the rest out,” Gunn told them. “But the details are correct.”
Bodie clicked open his door. “Well, we can’t just sit here forever.” Quickly, he relayed their new predicament to Heidi, who reminded them of other factions’ interest in the statues.
“But the Bratva?” Bodie said. “Doesn’t make sense. They’re not here for Atlantis. They’re here for me.”
“How could they track you down?” Heidi asked.
“Two ways I can think of. These people have connections everywhere, including the CIA. And we haven’t exactly been quiet so far during this mission.”
“Just make it out of there in one piece.”
“Easier said than done.”
Cassidy flung her door wide and jumped out, stretching as much for show as to scout the terrain in every direction. As Bodie appeared in front of her, she whispered in his ear.
“I see a way past if the chance arises. Ditch to the right leads toward that mountain, but the road also turns up ahead. Runway is what? Five miles away?”
“Six. But I like the idea.”
The person they believed to be Viktor made a hand gesture. Immediately, his troops came forward, formed a line, and lowered their weapons, but only slightly. Bodie made a point of copying their lead and took a step toward them.
The bald man held out a hand. “That’s far enough.”
Bodie nodded. “Morning,” he said. “How can we help you?”
“I think we helped you.” The bald man let loose a laugh that inspired a similar mocking sound among several younger men.
“And thank you for that.” Bodie remained polite.
Viktor spoke English in a low voice. “We want Bodie first. Hand him over right now and the rest of you won’t be harmed. It’s not personal,” he added. “Our boss, Lucien, merely wishes to speak to him.”
“Sorry, dude,” Cassidy said. “The Wright Brothers got here first. You know”—she pointed at the skies—“came outta nowhere. We barely escaped alive.”
Viktor flicked open his suit jacket and casually slipped out an Uzi.
Cassidy stared. “Fuck. That’s some party trick.”
“Send him over.”
Cassidy knew it would never happen, and that they needed a clever distraction to attempt an effective escape. It was right then that Cross went completely off the rails and started to stride forward.
Bodie held out a warning hand. “Eli?”
But Cross appeared to have entered an alternate universe. Staring at a woman beside Viktor, he said, “Yasmine?”
Cassidy flinched incredulously. “That might not be the best idea, bud.”
Cross allowed his gun to drop until it pointed at the ground and walked closer. “Yasmine, is that you?”
Bodie sent a shocked glance at Cassidy. “What’s he up to?”
“I have no clue.”
Viktor regarded Cross with distaste. “You know Yasmine?”
“Hell yeah, from a lifetime ago when I was freelance. Still learning the trade. It was a chance encounter,” he said wistfully. “But a memorable one.”
The woman, in her late thirties, peeled away from Viktor’s side. She kept her face carefully neutral, her body language dispassionate. The handgun by her thigh was half raised, the hammer pulled back. But when she looked at Cross it seemed that she had seen a ghost.
“Eli? Is that really you?” Her voice sounded husky with intense emotion.
Cross continued to approach her. Viktor raised his Uzi, leveled it at Cross, and the rest of his men followed suit.
“Stop!” Viktor ordered.
Yasmine stared at Cross. “Where did you go, Eli?”
The older thief went mute, unable to string another sentence together.
Cassidy whispered, “Sheeyit, man, I gotta survive this just so I can squeeze Cross for all the gory details.”
Bodie stayed professional. “You working on that distraction, Cass?”
“Me? I thought you were dealing with that.”
“Me?”
“Or your girlfriend?”
“Heidi?”
“Ah, so now you admit it.”
“No! Bloody hell, Cass, stay focused. I don’t see a way out of this.”
“Don’t worry,” Cassidy said. “I’ll figure something out.”
But being totally honest, she didn’t see a way out of this either. She studied Viktor and his crew as Cross and Yasmine gawped at each other like long-lost lovers, searching for an opening. The Bratva were one of the deadliest enemies they could ever face, and they had incalculable support from all over the world. Any attempt to escape was going to be dangerous as hell.
“You know what happened,” Cross said finally. “I… I… didn’t change. I never left. I loved you—”
Yasmine broke her group’s protocol and rushed forward to embrace Cross, still with the gun held tight and cocked. Cross held on as if he’d found the most precious thing on earth and never wanted to let go. Viktor waved his hands in angry resignation, then turned an almost apologetic look upon Bodie.
“Let us finish this business and then we can all go home. Yes?”
Bodie nodded. “I guess so.”
“You can’t just give yourself over to him,” Cassidy whispered.
“We’re outnumbered. Outgunned. We’re not SAS. I’m not Keanu Reeves and you’re not Maggie Q. Live now, Cass, fight later. Oh, and don’t be late with the distraction.”
It made sense. She didn’t like it, but Bodie’s words were unadulterated, true. It wasn’t just her life. Jemma and Gunn could never hope to come out of this alive. Thus, she didn’t make a move when the Englishman took a single step forward.