Part 20 (1/2)

”Scott?”

”Grant! I just got word! Kalinin got away!”

Grant jerked to attention. ”What?! How?!”

”He was being transferred to another holding facility. The van got T-boned!”

”Oh Christ! Anybody hurt?”

”Word was a couple of agents had broken bones but that van's 'toast.' A witness on scene said he ran to help. Two men in the back were unconscious, but a third was crawling around, trying to get out. He seemed disoriented.

”Two witnesses helped that guy out of the van, then turned their attention to the driver and a pa.s.senger. By the time cops and rescue vehicles arrived, Kalinin was gone.”

”Where'd it happen?!”

”They were heading south outta D.C., somewhere along Glebe Road. I think that's 120.”

Grant was pacing. ”I think I know where he's headed! If you've got updates, call Joe's car phone!”

”Where's he go. . .?!” Too late. Connection broken.

”What happened, Skipper?” Adler asked with concern.

”There was a car accident. Nick got away.”

”Holy s.h.i.+t!” was voiced by more than one of the men.

”Everybody hang here. Joe and I are gonna try and find him. He may be headed to the safe house. C'mon, Joe! You drive!”

Twenty-five minutes later, Adler turned his red '67 Mustang off the main road leading into the neighborhood. ”You realize we'll be in a world of s.h.i.+t if anybody finds out what we're doing, don't you?”

”Take the next left,” Grant said. He folded a map and shoved it under the seat. ”The next street on the left should be Aless. Drive past it so I can get a look.” Grant raised binoculars, turning in the seat, trying to get a better view. ”Don't see any cars in the first two driveways. Think 'our' house is the second one, left side of the street, if I'm reading the numbers on the mailbox correctly. Go to the street behind it.”

Adler made a K-turn, then headed back. ”You really think he's here?”

”Closest place to where the accident happened, Joe, but it's still just a guess. Don't even know how he would've gotten here, unless he hitched. The agents would've taken all his personal stuff, so he wouldn't have any money on him.”

Adler turned the Mustang at the next street. ”Okay. Guess this is good enough,” Grant said.

They tucked the weapons into their front waistbands, zipped up their jackets, then got out.

”Joe, get that emergency medical bag. He could've gotten pretty banged up in the accident.” Adler got the bag from the trunk, hooking the strap on his left shoulder.

They perused the neighborhood. So far, not much activity, except for a gray-haired older man across the street digging flower beds behind a chain link fence. A small black poodle yapped and jumped at every shovel of dirt tossed. Most driveways were clear of vehicles. Who and how many were inside the homes was a different story. But at least homes were few, spread out, with enough property between them.

”Let's go,” Grant said as he started walking.

Adler continued watching their backs, scanning the whole area, until Grant said, ”This is it.”

They were behind a rundown, single car garage. Getting as close as they could to the structure, then easing toward the corner, Grant slowly leaned his head forward until he saw the house. Windows were closed, shades and blinds were drawn. No one was in sight.

”Looks clear. You take the door's port side. Ready?”

”Go!” Adler whispered.

Crouching low, they hustled across the property, taking positions next to the door. They waited and listened, but it was quiet. Grant eased closer to the door. It was closed but not secured. Part of the framework was splintered.

He slowly pushed it open, just enough so he could get close. ”Nick! It's Grant!” Nothing. ”C'mon, Nick! Open up. Joe and I are here to help you.” They waited. There was a possibility Kalinin had pa.s.sed out from a head injury, or he was very suspicious, or he wasn't here. Grant was ready to enter, when the door opened.

Kalinin had obvious surprise on his face. ”What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?” A S&W .38, taken from an agent, was gripped in his hand.

Grant pushed his way past him. ”I told you. We're here to help.”

Small cuts from broken gla.s.s, bruises and sc.r.a.pes were on his face and hands. Blood from a cut above his eyebrow had dripped on his s.h.i.+rt. Spots of blood had already dried on his clothes. He rubbed a shoulder as he went into the living room, walking past both men. He continued holding the gun. ”How'd you know about this place? I mean, its location?”

”Uh, information was turned over to me by a certain party member.” Grant unzipped his jacket, making sure Kalinin knew he was armed, too.

Kalinin's eyes narrowed. ”Comrade Vikulin, right?”

”He's the one.”

Now Kalinin understood the KGB officer's line of questioning and suspicions toward him. ”But how'd you know I was here?”

”Part guess,” Grant answered. ”C'mon. Sit down. Let Joe take a look at those cuts.”

Adler knelt next to the couch and opened the bag. ”Guess there aren't any broken bones, right?” he asked as he dabbed antiseptic on the cuts.

Kalinin shook his head. ”Doesn't feel like it, mostly muscle soreness.”

Grant sat at the opposite end of the couch. ”How'd you get here?”

”Hitched a ride on trucks.”

”n.o.body questioned your injuries?!”

Kalinin managed a brief smile. ”I wasn't always riding in the cab.” He turned his head to look at Grant. ”I can't believe you're taking the risk in coming here. Why?”

”Don't know. Just felt we had to.” It was the only answer he could think of. ”Weren't you in cuffs?”

”Found the key in one of their pockets.”

Adler put the last of the Band-Aids on Kalinin. ”Okay. That'll have to do.” He closed the bag then stood.

Kalinin touched above his eye. ”Thanks.” He got up and went to the front window, with Grant watching him. He finally turned around. ”You don't expect me to 'come over,' do you?”

”That'd be your decision.”

”So, you're going to turn me in.”