Page 103 of Hidden Justice

Clicking off, I slide my body down while steering over bumpy ground. I inch the vehicle closer to the gate, grateful this thing’s bullet-proof. If someone shoots, it means I’m already made, so the best option will be to drive straight through the fence. It’s bold, but I’m not exactly in stealth mode right now anyway.

I slow the Land Rover to a roll as I near the fence. None of the lights on the fence are on and no one is shooting at me. Heart tripping hard in my chest, my hands shaking, I begin to believe this might work. I might be able to sneak inside.

Stopping, I get out and pocket the key. It’s so quiet. No guards and the alarm has even stopped. It’s quiet enough that if the electric fence were humming, I’d hear it. Not that I don’t trust Gracie, but I chuck the bottle of Benadryl I found on the passenger seat. It hits and bounces off, rattling to the ground.

Hating the idea that the fence could flick back on at any moment and I could be on top, legs straddling either side, when the juice comes back on, I sling my rifle onto my back.

“J. Over here.”

Flicking up my NVGs, I look through the fence. Tony.

He’s at the end of the stable, dressed in a guard’s uniform.

Tony. Brilliant, wonderful Tony. He’s taken out a guard, stolen a uniform, and is now ready to get this thing done and get out of here.

He waves. “Hurry up.” He steps back into hiding.

I take a running leap, hit the fence with aclang, and scramble over the barbed wire. Landing like I’ve been training for this my whole life—I have—I sprint to where I’d seen him.

Around the stable, nose prickling at the smell of manure, I spot him. Relief surging through me, I reach for his hand.

He reaches for mine.

I skid to a halt.

Walid.

He’s standing behind Tony with a group of armed men.

“Get down!” I shout. Quick as my boiling hatred, I bring up my sidearm.

Tony steps up, intercepts my hand, pulls me forward, twists my wrist into a lock.

I cry out, drop the Sig as much from shock as pain.

He catches my gun and releases me. He looks me dead in the eyes and says, “You need to come with us.”

It takes me a minute.

It takes me a lifetime.

It takes my breath away.

“You?”

54

SANDESH

The men at the bottom of the stairs freeze. They’re looking from light into darkness. This fact alone saves my life.

I roll Dmitri off my shoulders, drop, and shoot. I’m not surprised I miss because my hands tremble and the light is blinding.

One of the men, the better trained, belly-crawls to safety. The other stays in the open, reaches for his gun. He makes an excellent target, even to my dwindling abilities.

The shot hits him in the chest, and he falls dead to the ground. The alarm thrums against the walls like an accusing, stone heartbeat.

On the step behind me, Dmitri stops convulsing. I reach over to confirm what I already suspect, but, surprise, Dmitri still has a pulse.