Sasha felt her lip quivering. It was cold in the woods, and she admitted to herself that she was never more afraid than at this moment.
Denby remarked, “He is one tough fellow, Simmons. I want to tell you right now to never try to arrest him if you have any brains. Even if he lets you take him in, you will find yourself over your head in obnoxious CIA types, who will stick a hot poker up your ass as soon as they hear about it.”
She walked purposefully up to the two detectives and smiled. “Special Agent April Chauncy, FBI.” She didn’t offer her hand and stood waiting for an expected summary. Normally, they would demand to see a badge or ID before accepting her as whom she claimed to be, but there was something about her that changed the usual dynamics.
The boy couldn’t answer and started to shake and weep. He clung to Mick’s neck fiercely, and together, they waited in the darkness of night for the police to find them. The sound of gunfire in the wharf area must have been called in, because soon they were lit up by spotlights and surrounded by uniformed police. Mick refused to let the boy go, and they rode back to his home, clinging together in the backseat of a squad car.
Mick looked them both over slowly. They could feel the tension building, and the little hairs on the back of their necks started to stand at attention. Being this close to Mick made them realize just how dangerous he was. The lead officer was beginning to wish that they had not found this Grundy fellow after all.
Sasha was standing with her feet apart and holding a large smoking handgun, instantly firing a second shot into the man on the floor. Mick reached out and carefully took the gun from her hand.
“We find you awake, FBI,” the female said in accented-English. They both grinned at her helplessness. April could feel the leering eyes of the male rake her body over and over.
Spitting flame and ear shattering noise, the gun fired and the hood of the car was carried upward by the explosion.
“Теперь мы готовы иметь нашу беседу, Андрея,” [“Now we are ready to have our conversation, Andrei,”] the voice said. It was deep and frightening like in some nightmare he had as a child.
“English, I speak English, Grundy,” Andrei sputtered.
“Good. English. Now is when I should tell you that you have a choice to defect or die. I want to save a lot of time today, so I need to demonstrate to you your third choice,” the voice said. There was a click, and in a split second a piercing intense pain exploded from Andrei’s leg.
Mick applied his brakes hard as the limo slew back around clockwise in the road, instantly starting to roll. The tumble was spectacular, and amid sparks and parts flying around, the car managed to align with the road briefly before beginning to topple end over end. After all forward momentum was spent, it came to rest upside down in a drainage ditch alongside the road. Mick stopped and got off the motorcycle, allowing his headlight to point toward the wreckage.