Stone let out a low groan as Sievers’ shoulder drove up into his abdomen. The jolts from the Taser had not rendered him unconscious. The electrical shock weapon was designed to overload the body’s own neuro-electrical system, causing all the large skeletal muscles to violently seize, exhausting the supply of chemical fuel in the muscle fibers and leaving a victim in a state of quivering exhaustion, but still wide awake. Stone had heard every word of the exchange between Kasey and Sievers, though he had been unable to offer as much as a whimper of protest.
The effect, thankfully, was short-lived.
“Sievers!” He tried to shout, but it sounded more like a croak.
“Don’t worry, boss,” Sievers replied. “We’ll have you back in your comfy little cell in a jiffy.”
“Sievers, listen to me. I’ll give you what you want.”
“Yep. You surely will.”
There was an urgency in Sievers’ stride. As confident as the mercenary was, he was obviously in a hurry to get off the street, lest a curious onlooker should take note of the abduction and call the police. Stone could not see where the man was taking him, but knew that there was probably a vehicle waiting nearby. Once Sievers reached that goal, all hope would be lost.
Stone swallowed, willing more life into his nearly paralyzed limbs. There was no way he could take Sievers in a fight, but he did have other weapons in his arsenal.
“Put me down,” Stone said, trying to sound calm despite the pressure in his gut. “Let me walk. I won’t resist.”
Sievers halted. “Why should I believe you?” The man’s tone was doubtful, but Stone took the pause as a hopeful sign.
“Come on, Sievers. You hold all the cards. I’m tied up. Even if I tried to run, you’d find me right away. You tagged me, didn’t you? An RFID implant?”
Sievers chuckled, and then Stone found himself standing on wobbly legs in front of the big mercenary. “I suppose it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”
“It wouldn’t have been that hard for you to figure out that Tam brought me to Vienna, but no way could you have known we’d be coming out of that crypt. A radio tracker chip is the obvious explanation.”
“Ain’t technology great? Come on, let’s get moving.” He gestured to a van waiting further up the street, and then Stone felt Sievers’ powerful hands close on his biceps and something hard burrowing into his back.
“Sievers, listen. I’m ready to deal.”
“No deals.”
“You don’t understand. There’s something big going on here. Something a lot bigger than the stolen data.”
“Uh, huh. And you’re one of the good guys now, is that it?”
“We may not agree on the definition of ‘good guys’ but Tam is Company.” He narrowed his gaze, imparting more gravity to his next words. “The real CIA.”
Ten months of studying Sievers and his fellow contractors had given Stone plenty of insight into the man’s personality. He knew exactly which buttons to push. Sievers, a Special Forces veteran, deeply regretted leaving the military to pursue a more lucrative paycheck in the private sector. Stone did not want to insult his patriotism so much as appeal to it. “She’s trying to stop something really bad. Like 9/11 bad, and she knows I can help. I think that’s important enough that I’m willing to give you what you want if that’s the only way to get your cooperation.” He paused a beat. “I may not have told you what you wanted to hear, but I never lied to you, Sievers. So I’m giving you my word. Let me help Tam, and when it’s done, I’ll give you the data.”
He read the conflict behind Sievers’ eyes. There was apprehension there, but not distrust. Sievers was more concerned about what his employers might do if he acceded to Stone’s request, and even that was not as strong as his desire to do the right thing. He was on the verge of relenting when Kasey made her move.
Stone had positioned himself so that Sievers would not see Kasey’s efforts to free herself. Working by touch alone, she had managed to unzip the duffel bag and use the Spear to slice apart her flexi-cuffs. Hefting the broad blade like a knife, she stole forward soundlessly and jabbed the tip into the small of Sievers’ back. The mercenary flinched at first contact but knew better than to make a more dramatic move.
“Move and I skewer your liver,” she said. “How do you like that for a rematch?”
Stone lowered his eyes to meet her gaze. “Kasey, it’s okay.”
“Sure it is. Get his weapons.”
Stone shook his head. “I gave him my word. He’s going to help us. Isn’t that right, Sievers?”
Sievers registered surprise at the question. “You’re serious?”
Stone gave a reassuring nod. “Always. Help us, and everyone wins. Deal? I’d offer you my hand, but...”
“Tell Xena Warrior Princess to take that knife out of my back, and I’ll cut you loose.”
The man’s tone was defiant, almost threatening, but Stone could tell that it was merely face-saving posturing. Sievers was being sincere. “Put it away, Kasey. We’re all on the same team now.”
Kasey was incredulous. “You don’t actually believe him?”
“I do. You’ve got to trust me on this.” Then he added, “Tam would.”
Kasey proved harder to convince than Sievers but after several seconds, she relaxed perceptibly. “I’ll trust you,” she said. “Him, not so much. You hear me, cowboy? Keep it real slow.”
With exaggerated purposefulness, Sievers reached into a pocket and took out a Leatherman multi-tool. He gestured for Stone to turn around and a moment later, Stone’s hands were free again. He turned back and extended his right hand.
Sievers stared at it with open suspicion then grudgingly took it. “If you double-cross me—”
“I won’t,” Stone said. “Welcome to the team.”
Tam’s ankle still hurt but it bore her weight, and the pain was diminishing with each step. That was about the only thing that was going right.
She reached the edge of the Prater amusement park just as Greg announced his intention to follow the Russian onto the Riesenrad. She knew that he had ignored her order to wait. In his place, she would have done the same.
She oriented toward the enormous Ferris wheel, walking at a brisk pace that was only a little slower than the jog that had got her through the woods. The ride towered above the park, a halo of electric brilliance, turning with deceptive slowness against the backdrop of the night sky. Her eyes were drawn to one of the fifteen enormous viewing gondolas, its windows lit up from within. She wondered if it was the car with the Russian. She wondered if Greg had made it aboard.
The wheel stopped to let more passengers on, or perhaps to let them off, and then resumed turning. Because she had focused all her attention on the illuminated car as it revolved, rising like the sweep second hand of a clock, Tam saw what evidently no one else in the park did: a man-shaped silhouette crawling along the rim of the wheel, toward the cabin with the Russian.
“Damn it, Greg.” She breathed the words but did not transmit them. Greg didn’t need the distraction.
She saw everything. Saw him reach his destination, saw him crawl out onto the roof of the car. Saw the Russian climbing out through his own window, likewise unnoticed by the wheel operator, even as the rotation brought the gondolas past the loading platform.
She saw them fight. Saw someone fall.
“Greg!” She keyed her mic. “Greg, talk to me!”
She had only glimpsed the silhouette for an instant, a man falling—she couldn’t tell whom—visible in the gap between two of the cars, and then...nothing.
There was no answer on the radio. She forgot about trying to appear inconspicuous and broke into a run. She was immediately rewarded with a fresh spike of pain in her ankle, but she ignored it, focusing completely on reaching the towering Ferris wheel.
The lit-up gondola reached the top of the circle and began to descend. Tam expected at any moment to hear voices raised in alarm, but the park visitors remained blissfully unaware of the drama playing out above them. In the time it took for her to reach the ride, the wheel completed the revolution, bringing the gondola once more to the platform, but even before it was level with the deck, the door burst open and the occupants began streaming out. The wheel stopped suddenly, the car still more than a foot above the platform. Tam heard someone shouting in German, probably the ride’s operator, frantic at this breach of safety procedures but none of the men issuing from the car paid any heed. Tam scanned their faces. She recognized only one: the Russian.
She closed her hand on the butt of her Makarov but did not draw it. The Russian stared down at her as if daring her to shoot, while behind him, his fellow passengers dispersed in every direction, some escaping down the stairs, others climbing over the rail and dropping to the ground. Tam held his gaze, but in the corner of her eye, she could see that he was now empty-handed. He had already made the hand-off.
When it became apparent that she was not going to make a move against him, the Russian raised a hand to his forehead in a mocking salute. “Do svedanya.” Then he turned and ran.
Tam made no attempt to stop him. Instead, she raced up the steps to the platform, shouting Greg’s name, praying for a miracle, fearing the worst. She peered down into the trough below the metal frame, then stared up at the web of girders and wires that formed the spokes of the wheel.
“Greg!”
“Little help.”
The voice was barely audible over the din of rides and music, but Tam caught it nevertheless, perhaps because the words were in English, but mostly because she recognized both the voice and the devil-may-care attitude. She looked around, frantic but hopeful, and found Greg clinging to a horizontal bar that stretched between the two outer rims of the wheel, halfway between two of the gondolas. He had fallen but only as far as the crosspiece, a distance of less than twenty feet, where he was hanging on for dear life.
Tam rushed to the end of the platform. She could see the pain etched across his face. The crossbar had saved his life, but the impact with it had not been gentle. Nevertheless, he was grinning like an idiot.
“Hang on,” she called. “I’ll get someone.”
“Never mind me,” Greg croaked. “Go after the Russian.”
“Too late. He’s long gone.” She stepped back as the operator brought out an aluminum ladder which he stretched out across the gap in the platform, directly beneath Greg’s feet to form a makeshift bridge. Now that Tam knew he was safe, her relief gave way to a sharper emotion. “Lordy Jesus, Greg, what on earth possessed you? Why didn’t you wait for me? You could have gotten yourself killed, and for what?”
He grinned again, and then held up his phone. Fixed in the display was an image of the Russian. “For this.”