Back when the world thought they were finally rid of Oruzhiye, he’d taken Doc’s now wife, Merrigan, hostage, and used her to attempt to gain the upper hand with Moscow’s current ruling party, United Russia. Only believing he was already dead had stopped Doc from hunting him down and making sure he had a very slow and very painful end of life.
Orlov had turned up again when United Russia put out a hit on Gunner’s soon-to-be wife’s head. Zary, who had also been a Russian assassin, had defected and had asked Gunner to help her. Gunner would want Orlov dead in the same way Doc would.
No matter who was here or wasn’t, just about everyone who had ever worked in intelligence would celebrate the “second death” of the bastard.
“Let’s kill him,” said Razor, looking from Mantis to Dutch and Striker. “The agency said we couldn’t jeopardize Kilbourne’s mission. They didn’t say a word about not killing Orlov.”
“Because they didn’t expect him to be here,” said Striker.
“Screw ’em.”
“Does that mean we can extract Kilbourne too?” asked Dutch.
Razor looked at Striker.
“How hard do you want to bite the hand that feeds you?” Striker asked.
“What are they gonna do, fire us?” answered Razor.
“You might not get any more assignments.”
“Assignments? Hell, who wants ’em anyway? We’ve all been talkin’ about retiring.”
Mantis watched Striker’s reaction. He was probably the only one of the new partners who hadn’t been privately contracting for years. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t start if K19 folded. The odds of that were pretty damn slim. The men and women who made up the team were the best in the world, and the agency knew it.
Mantis’ head spun around when he heard Dutch’s bird call. What the fuck did he think he was doing? He’d just forced their hand. Alegria would know they were close, and if they waited even an hour to move in, she’d probably try to escape on her own and get herself killed. There was a reason Orlov was there, and while Mantis didn’t know what it was, he didn’t doubt for a minute that he’d been sent to kill someone.
“You bastard,” Mantis heard Striker seethe. “What do you think you’re doing?” Striker had Dutch by the throat, and before Mantis could move in and separate them, Razor did. He pushed Striker back and stayed in front of Dutch.
“This isn’t your op, Ellis. You’d do well to remember who you work for.”
Out of the four of them, Mantis should’ve been the one with the least level head given the love of his life was being held hostage by a jihadist mad man, but in this case, he was.
“Stand down, all three of you. If you can’t get it together, then I’ll go in on my own.” Mantis wanted to add that he’d prefer it that way, but then he’d be just as bad as they were.
—:—
Alegria heard Dutch’s signal, but worse, Kilbourne did too. What happened next would confirm exactly who Malin was working for. If she acted, it would mean she’d been turned. If she ignored it, she was working an op. Alegria held her breath and waited, but the agent didn’t show any sign of acknowledgment.
She looked from Kilbourne to Orlov, and her blood ran cold. He had heard it too, recognized it, and all hell was about to break loose.
In the same moment Orlov grabbed Malin and put a gun to her head, Dutch, Mantis, Striker, and Razor stormed the room. It didn’t look like they’d thrown smoke grenades in the small space, more likely smoke bombs, and only enough to hide her extraction.
Mantis rushed over, threw her over his shoulder, and was out before enough of the smoke had cleared for anyone to have visibility across the room.
They were in the back of the SUV, and Mantis had her untied before she could’ve counted to ten. Seconds later, Razor and Striker climbed in the front.
“Where the fuck is Dutch?” Striker yelled. “That mother fuck—”
“There he is,” said Razor, pointing to where Orlov was taking Kilbourne out of the building.
“It’s an op,” Alegria yelled. “Go get her.”
She watched as Razor and Striker made eye contact. When Ellis nodded, they both climbed out of the vehicle. Razor tossed Mantis the keys. “Get her the hell out of here.”
Mantis climbed over the seat and sped away from the scene.
“What are you doing?” Alegria shouted. “You can’t leave! They’re going to—”