"The Americans must pay their spies well," Vasily said.
"Idiot. She inherited the money," Yeltsin said.
He looked at his watch. "It's been long enough. Let's go. Drive into the parking garage. There'll be an elevator or stairs."
They drove into the underground garage and parked. The elevator was at the far end. There were only a few cars, leaving most of the garage empty. The target lived on the top floor. Yeltsin pushed the button and the doors opened.
"You need a key for each floor," Viktor said.
"It's not a problem," Yeltsin said. "Remember your training."
He took a small leather pouch from his pocket, opened it and extracted two tools from a set of lock picks. It took seconds to turn the lock. He punched the button.
They rode the elevator to the top floor and stepped out into an entrance foyer about twenty feet square. The floor was of polished oak, the walls painted a soothing peach color. A pair of framed watercolors decorated the space. The door to the loft was opposite the elevator on the other side of the foyer. There were two locks on it. A discrete camera peered at them from over the door.
"She has the entire floor?" Vasily asked.
"I told you, she's rich. Her husband is also a spy. She's the one with the money."
Yeltsin manipulated his picks. After a minute the first lock clicked.
"This is high-end stuff," he said.
He worked with the picks until he could open the door. The three men entered the loft. An alarm blinked yellow on the wall next to the door. A digital clock counted down seconds until the alarm would sound. There was a camera farther along the wall. A steady red light showed it was powered on. Yeltsin took out a small, electric screwdriver and had the cover off the box in seconds. He took a device from his other pocket and hooked two wires to terminals inside the box and twisted a dial. The counter stopped with three seconds to go. The light on the camera died.
Vasily looked around the loft and whistled.
"All this space for two people?" He walked over to the wall of windows facing the Potomac and Virginia. "Look at that view."
"Were not here to sightsee. Start looking for the map. Try not to mess everything up. We don't want them to know we were here. Vasily, take the bedrooms. Viktor, you take those rooms on the right. I'll start with the living area."
An hour and a half later they were still looking.
Viktor called from the room he was searching.
"I found a safe."
Yeltsin and Vasily joined him. Viktor had turned back a Persian rug, revealing a safe with a combination dial set into the floor.
"You don't see these much anymore," Vasily said. "Everything's digital and biometric now."
"A combination lock is a better bet. Safer," Yeltsin said. "Electronic locks and biometric readers fail, even the good ones. With a combination, you can always get it open."
"Can you open it?"
"Of course I can. It may take some time. Find a glass. A wine glass, with a stem."
Vasily went to the kitchen and came back with a glass. Yeltsin knelt by the safe and placed the glass upside down on the door. He laid his left ear on the thin base and began to turn the dial with his right hand.
That was when Selena came home.
CHAPTER 10
Selena had come back for some notes she'd forgotten. The first sign something was wrong was the elevator in the garage. The light behind the button for her floor was lit, waiting for someone to push it.
It should have been off.
She eased her pistol from its holster as the elevator rose. She carried a SIG-Sauer 229 chambered for .40 Smith & Wesson. She liked the shorter barrel and lower weight of the 229, plus it came out of the holster a little bit faster. At the distance where personal shootouts happened, the extra barrel length of the 226 favored by many in the specialized services didn't make any difference. She could empty a magazine into the center mass of a target with either one.
The gun was fully loaded, a round in the chamber. Selena eased the hammer back and laid her finger alongside the trigger guard.
The elevator opened onto the empty foyer. The door to the loft was ajar. She thought about calling Nick but discarded the idea as quickly as it came. The noise would give her away if someone was inside. If no one was there, so much the better. If they were, they weren't going to violate her personal space without paying for it.
Whoever it was, they were good. Getting through the locks was the least of it. Somehow they'd managed to turn off the alarm.
With a gentle push, she eased the door partway open. She heard voices.
Russian. They're speaking Russian.
Her heart began pounding as adrenaline flooded her. She took a deep breath and listened to what they were saying.
They found the safe.
She pushed her shoes off in the foyer and slipped through the door. Her feet made no sound as she padded across the floor. She moved to the wall and worked her way along it until she was outside the entrance to her study.
"I have three numbers," someone said. "One more and I'll have it open."
"We've been here a long time," someone else said. "Can't you hurry it up, Major?"
At least two, she thought.
"Don't bother him, Vasily. You wouldn't have gotten through those locks on the door."
Three.
"What if they come back?"
"They went to work. They're not coming back. If they do, we take care of it."
"Will you two shut up? How can I hear what I'm doing with your yammering?"
Selena heard the click as the last tumbler fell into place, then the metallic ratcheting of the handle that pulled back the locking bars inside the safe door.
"It's open," the first voice said.
"Is the map in there?" The second voice said.
"I don't see it."
Time to introduce myself, Selena thought.
She was angry. These thugs had come into her home, into her private space. She stepped into the room with her pistol held in front of her in both hands. One man knelt over the open safe. The other two stood nearby.
"Don't fucking move," she said in Russian.
Yeltsin looked up from the floor and saw an angry woman with intense violet eyes, holding an automatic pistol pointed at him. Without thinking he reached for his Makarov.
Selena's first shot sounded like a cannon in the confines of the room. It hit Yeltsin and bowled him over. She shifted to the right and shot Vasily, two rounds into his chest. He staggered and fell onto his back, knocking over a floor lamp as he went down. She swiveled toward the third man. He was trying to free his gun from his pocket. He grabbed a book from her desk and hurled it at her. The book struck her hand as she fired. The round missed. The slide locked halfway back and stopped.
Jammed!
She didn't have time to think about it. Viktor charged her. He was a big man, fast for his size. She threw her gun at him. It bounced off his shoulder. He barreled into her and knocked her down. As she fell she swept her leg around and took his foot out from under him. He went to the floor, cursing. She arched and flipped backward onto her feet. Viktor reached out and grabbed her ankle and pulled. She twisted and felt a jolt of pain as she went down. She fell on top of him and drove her thumb into his eye.
He screamed and grasped at her. She brought her elbow down hard on his face and heard bone break under the blow. She slammed his throat with her elbow, once, twice, and rolled away. He thrashed on the floor trying to breathe.
The first man she'd shot lifted his pistol. She rolled to the side as he fired. Hot, electric pain shot up her leg from the injured ankle. The barrel of the Makarov was aimed straight at her.