The Rescue(30)

“And Decker walked right into it.”

“Nobody could have predicted what Penkin’s organization had in mind,” said Gunther. “Decker is an unfortunate victim of circumstance. Our job is to close the loop on his misfortune. Aegis’s national defense mission around the globe is too important to be squandered on a scandal like this. Senator Steele is a vital ally, and we intend to keep it that way.”

They proceeded cautiously up the hill, cresting it slowly. The burned remains of the house appeared in the distance beyond several clumps of thick, twisty bushes. They pulled out binoculars and studied the area around the house, making sure nobody else had beaten them to the idea. The rough vehicle path leading to the house looked clear all the way to the hard-packed dirt road that connected the property to civilization. From this vantage point, they could visually sweep the entire property, with the exception of a few spots hidden by bushes or shallow ravines.

“Looks like we’re alone,” said Gunther.

Jay lowered his binoculars and nodded toward the house. “Except for the dead Russian.”

Gunther focused his binoculars on the burned-away structure, immediately spotting a body slumped on a folding chair in the middle of the charred ruins.

“I need to take a closer look,” he said. “He looks mostly intact from here, except for the head wound. If Decker worked him over, I’d expect him to be stripped down and bloodied.”

“I can’t believe this place hasn’t been leveled,” said Jay. “Given what happened here.”

“Out of sight. Out of mind. Nobody can see it from the surrounding properties.”

“The Russians don’t play around. That’s for sure,” said Jay. “Seeing this kind of hits you in the gut.”

“Don’t think about it,” said Gunther. “What’s done is done here. Penkin got what he deserved in the end.”

“Have to give Decker credit. Dragging Penkin out here was a nice touch.”

“Decker’s a piece of work, that’s for sure.”

He stood up and brushed the sand and dirt off his clothes.

“Keep a close eye out for visitors. Don’t forget to check your six. Decker is lethal. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Understood,” said Jay, pointing the binoculars in the direction they had just come.

Gunther descended the shallow slope, using the bushes to cover his approach, just like Decker’s assault team. At the edge of the brush, he stopped to listen for a minute, just in case. He’d learned long ago never to trust a single input source. Senses played predisposed tricks on the mind. Intelligence sources produced information confirmed by their own biases. The list went on. His brain, and its close connection to his eyes, had very likely assumed that the house was safe after his initial look through the binoculars.

Hearing nothing unusual, he emerged from the scrub and crossed the burned threshold. Quiet, deliberate footsteps took him through the exposed ruins of the room that once had been packed with explosives—and freshly slain bodies. Twenty-two, including four aspiring and unwitting members of the Solntsevskaya Bratva that Penkin had supplied.

He stepped over a scorched piece of timber and approached Penkin’s corpse, stopping when he smelled gasoline. A quick look around revealed a red gasoline container tossed behind a pile of rubble, and a pistol lying a few feet away from the chair. Interesting. Decker had doused him with gas but didn’t follow through. Burning a man alive was the ultimate revenge, especially if you could stick around to watch. For some inexplicable reason, Decker had held back, ending Penkin’s life mercifully with a single bullet to the head.

Gunther crouched next to the body, examining the head wound. It almost looked like Penkin had committed suicide. The bullet had penetrated his right temple—the same side as the discarded pistol. Decker would have shot him in the face or forehead. At least that’s how Gunther would have carried out the execution. Why the hell would he risk giving Penkin a gun?

A closer look at Penkin’s face revealed no signs of damage beyond the entry and exit holes. No discoloration or bruising on his hands or arms. Had he come clean to Decker in exchange for a quick death? Gunther could only assume that Penkin had told him everything, which meant Decker would go into deep hiding with his new allies, until they were ready to strike. Harcourt would go ballistic when he learned this.

His phone buzzed, giving him a quick jolt of adrenaline. Either Jay had spotted someone approaching or Harcourt had read his mind from three thousand miles away. A glance at his phone indicated it was neither. The number belonged to one of several relays sending calls to his phone from various sources across the greater Los Angeles metro area.

“Hello. Who am I speaking to?” said Gunther, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hi. This is Justin Peters with Ares Aviation at the Riverside airport. I was told to call this number if anyone came by asking questions about flight waivers submitted by our office.”

“Do you have something to report?” said Gunther.

“Yes. An FAA investigator came in about five minutes ago, with a copy of a class-C airspace waiver for Riverside Municipal Airport that we submitted close to two years ago. She wanted information about the type of drone used. We don’t have that information.”

“Did you check her credentials?”

“She’s been in before,” said Justin. “Specializes in airspace waivers. She was in about four months ago auditing our waiver database.”