Deep Sleep (Devin Gray #1)(99)

And staying on the other side of the lake, trusting their fate to whoever called that camp home, wasn’t a viable option. Not after the small war that had been waged out there for close to fifteen minutes, not to mention the helicopter explosion that had probably rattled windows and set off car alarms for miles. The police would be all over this place soon, the several-story-high bonfire rising above the treetops serving as their beacon. The team was better off on their own, which meant a long swim.

Felix got up on wobbly legs and reentered the water, wading halfway to his struggling colleague, before he could no longer feel the bottom of the lake. He sidestroked the rest of the way and made the mistake of approaching Lashev directly. Like all terrified swimmers in a near-drowning situation, his teammate instinctively grabbed on to Felix the moment he arrived, intent on dragging him to the bottom, too. He pounded Lashev’s face a few times, stunning him long enough to implement a forced-rescue hold—and start swimming.

He dragged Lashev to waist-high water and let go. The operative thrashed for a few seconds before realizing he could stand. He immediately waded to shore and sat next to Ksenia. Oleg got up from his spot near the break in the shoreline and plopped down beside Lashev.

“No rest for the wicked,” said Felix, trudging out of the water. “We need to steal a boat or a car and get the hell out of here. I’m leaning toward one of the covered docks we spotted inside the cove. Less chance of getting shot trespassing. Most Americans are more heavily armed than the police.”

“I saw tire tracks near the cove entrance,” said Oleg. “Looks like they lead in the direction of the docks.”

“Can’t they just drive our Jeeps over from the airport?” asked Ksenia.

“The people watching over our gear and Jeeps back at the hangar have been diverted to evacuate the camp burning across the lake,” said Felix. “They moved everything away from the hangar, because the helicopters will eventually be traced back to the airport—but that’s all I know. They’ll contact us when they can spare the personnel to reunite us with our vehicles. Until then, I want to get as far from here as possible.”

Felix grabbed his backpack and tossed it in front of the group. He’d volunteered to carry the fifteen-to twenty-pound bag because he was a strong swimmer—and didn’t think anyone else would make it across with the equivalent of an anchor strapped to their back. Boots, socks, pistols, and ammunition. The essentials. He’d sealed his satellite phone and wallet in a waterproof bag and stuffed it in one of his cargo pockets.

They’d thrown everything else—the rifles, body armor, helmets, and night vision gear—into the water, as far off the shoreline on the other side of the lake as possible. Why give investigators a sense of their true numbers? Whoever combed through the property would eventually find Oksana and Valerie, unless the camp’s residents cleaned up their bodies. He’d provided their general location to Pichugin’s contact after the helicopter exploded. Let them deal with it.

“Five minutes. Don’t forget to drain your pistols and work the action a few times. Hold your magazines upside down until they stop dripping. We might not be done using them tonight.”





PART VI





CHAPTER 57


Devin opened his eyes to a dark, unfamiliar room. It took a few seconds to figure out exactly where he’d woken up and why. They’d driven through the night to Nashville, passing through the city and checking into the most nondescript motel he’d ever seen—basically, a two-story rectangle with evenly spaced doors and windows. About as inconspicuous as he could imagine, which was almost as big a selling point as the Cracker Barrel restaurant next door.

They settled into three sets of adjoining rooms, clearly a big coup for the mostly unoccupied motel, since an “exception” was made regarding the usual checkin time. Everyone got their own bed to rest, Rich insisting the team needed to take a time-out before going any further. All Devin really remembered after that was ordering three times the amount of Cracker Barrel he could possibly eat and putting himself into a food coma.

He glanced over at the other bed, finding the blankets rumpled but empty. A quick look at the open, dark bathroom doorway told him Marnie had slipped out at some point to join the team. They’d probably taken a few hours off and gone back to work. How long had he been out? The light peeking through the shade told him he hadn’t slept into the night. His watch said he’d given it his best effort: 6:48 p.m. He’d been out for more than ten hours. Rich and Karl probably had the next operation planned by now.

Devin rolled off the cheap mattress and reached for the ceiling to give his stiff body a quick stretch. He noticed a fresh pair of jeans, a few T-shirts, socks, and underwear on the dresser. Someone had been busy. He grabbed the jeans and checked the inside of the waist, finding them a few sizes too large—but not big enough to slide off. The shirt was a large, which would hang off him but otherwise work just fine for now.

He took everything into the bathroom and changed out of the swampy outfit he’d been wearing, before indulging in a quick shower to wash away the grime of last evening’s mission. Feeling deceptively refreshed, he tucked his wallet and satellite phone into his pockets and stepped into the crusty boots next to his bed. The sort-of-human feeling the shower and new clothes had loaned him took a hit when his feet sank into the damp boots. More than just damp. He stood up, and they squished—not that he was complaining.