Reader
Open on Literotica

A Cloak of Lies Ch. 12

"Camille, you should rest."

The words came from a great distance, prying into her thoughts as she stared at the awakening day. She was tired—having slept little in the night—and her body was wracked with pain. Leaning heavily against the window frame, all she could think of was how to get out and what Niko was doing.

"Camille?"

She turned her head to see the sleepy-eyed Lorette gazing at her from a few feet away. The woman's face was a study of concern, pale and watchful.

"I think you should take one of these pills," Lorette said, holding the bottle out in front of her.

"No, thank you, Lorette," Camille said with a sigh. "I need to keep my head on straight."

"I'm worried about you. What are you looking at out there?" Lorette asked, taking a step closer.

"The sunrise. I've lost track of how long I've been here."

"Seems like I can't remember being anywhere else," Lorette returned. "I want to see my father."

Camille straightened with a grimace, turning to face the forlorn woman at her side. She laid a comforting hand on Lorette's arm, hoping the small gesture would alleviate some of her sadness.

"I know, honey. I want to see Niko again. I need to tell him how sorry I am. If only I'd listened..." Camille said, letting her voice trail off.

There was a soft knock at the door, interrupting whatever Lorette had been about to say. Olaf entered, carrying a large tray, laden with what was presumably to be their breakfast. Camille frowned, wondering what it was the man was doing there so early.

After setting the tray upon the table in the corner, he held a chair out, meeting Camille's eyes expectantly. His startling gaze compelled her to take the proffered seat, if a bit warily.

Once seated, she kept her eyes on him, wincing slightly at the pain that turning her neck caused. His gaze left her face briefly as he reached in front of her to lift the lid off a plate on the table. He shifted his gaze to her face and then pointedly back to the plate again.

Camille glanced down, expecting to find eggs or some other offensive breakfast food, but found only a few slices of melon, a small handgun and two loaded clips. Her head snapped up, a gasp escaping her lips when the man lowered the lid quietly over the plate once more. He gave her a warning look, one intended to silence any words that might have flown from her mouth.

She studied his face, searching for some sign of possible threat from him, but found only an earnest expression of determination. With a slight nod, she slipped her hand under the cover, removed the gun and hid it under her napkin. She did the same with each of the clips, wrapping the three items in the cloth. She covered the package with the folds of her nightgown while the butler shielded her, presumably from hidden cameras, with his body.

When Lorette looked as if she might question what was happening, Camille sent her a warning glance. Once satisfied with how she had hidden the weapon, Olaf stepped away from Camille, walking to the exit. He left the women alone, locking the door quietly behind him.

***

"Uh, Pavli..." Brick said, his voice uneasy.

Roused from his doze in the seat next to the goliath, Niko was instantly alert. The bright azure blue of the sky greeted him through the cockpit window. It took a moment for him to see what it was that had Brick on edge.

There was an aircraft off the starboard wing. Craning his neck, he could see another off the port wing.

"Just take it easy, Brick," Niko said. "You didn't expect to just land on the base without a military escort, did you?"

"I don't like it," Brick growled. "We're out-gunned."

"All we have to do is bring it in according to Hansen's directions."

They'd only been in the air for a half hour after leaving Illinois when Niko had radioed Hansen. Without a secure connection, Niko had spoken in code, hoping that the colonel would get the full picture of what he needed.

"I guess that proves the base is actually here," Brick growled, pulling back on the throttle.

Ignoring him, Niko turned to check on the passengers in the back. Bob Phelps glowered at him, his hands still shackled with his own handcuffs. Olan smirked, his fingers clutched around the grip of the gun in his lap.

Turning back to the front, Niko tried to catch a glimpse of the airfield he knew was below. Carved from the Alaskan wilderness, the base was one of the military's best-kept secrets, a place so covert that it didn't have a name.

"How much do you trust this colonel friend of yours," Brick asked for the fourth time since changing course for Alaska.

"With my life," Niko answered absently. "Stick to the flight plan and everything will be all right."

"I should have my head examined for letting you talk me into this shit, Pavli. I could be back on my mountain--"

"Staring at the walls and listening to that mangy wolf growl," Niko said, cutting him off. "Don't worry, Brick. You'll be well-compensated. Now shut up and land this thing."

Brick grunted his disdain, reducing altitude while watching his escort closely. Niko understood his edginess. There was little question that the two F-18's would shoot them down if they altered their course. One mistake and they would be a flaming memory.

The passengers were tossed in their seats as Brick set the Cessna down with his usual grace. Bob yelped when he conked his head on the window. Niko would have found some small satisfaction in the man's pain if not for the anxiety that grew with each passing moment. He only hoped that Hansen would come through for him.

All four passengers were escorted from their craft at gun point, herded into a nearby tin shack and left to await their fate. Armed guards were posted at both entries, leaving little doubt that they were all now in custody.

"Christ, Niko," a voice bellowed when the door flew open minutes later. "You better have a good explanation for your actions. There's a firing squad with your name on it."

"Colonel," Niko said, coming to attention. "Thank you for meeting us."

"Dispense with the formalities, agent," Colonel Hansen barked. "You're in shit up to your neck. The whole fucking country's out looking for you."

"I know," Niko replied, clenching his fists impatiently. "I wish I had time for explanations, but time is the one thing we don't have. We know where Oleander is."

"You better make time. I'm not scrambling an entire squadron on the word of a rogue operative. What's going on?"

"Squadron? Damn it, Hansen, we need more support than that. Oleander has an entire army at his disposal. Get on the horn. We need naval--"

"Niko, I can appreciate your sense of urgency, but I'm not going to authorize a full-scale operation because you got your wife in trouble. I expect a full debriefing."

"Christ," Niko hissed, dragging his hand through his hair. "They came for her, Colonel. They're trying to draw me out."

"Colonel, if I may," Olan said. "What Niko says is true. We know where to find this Oleander."

Having heard enough, Brick stalked toward the man in charge, looking as if he were ready to break someone.

"I'm through," he said. "Let me the fuck out of here. I've had enough."

"You'd be Marion Brickler," Hansen stated. "What's your part in all this?"

"I ain't got nothing to do with it. Pavli strong-armed me into helping, that's all. I'm done. I gotta get back to Rafe."

"Who's Rafe?" Hansen asked, eyeing Brick's size and wondering how anyone could strong-arm him into anything.

"That fucking wolf will handle his own," Niko shouted.

"Gentlemen," Bob Phelps interjected.

"Who the hell are you?" Hansen demanded.

"Enough!" Olan yelled. "Listen, Colonel. Years of agency work, hundreds of lives lost, will be worth nothing unless we move now. Oleander is holed up on an island. If we strike now, he won't be expecting it. Word gets out that we've been in contact with you and all's lost."

"All right, Jeffreys," Hansen said, folding his arms across his chest, "you seem to be the voice of reason here. Suppose you tell me what's going on and just where you and your partner have been the past couple of weeks."

Olan gave Hansen the abridged version of the events that had brought the small group to the base, leaving out more than a few details that he felt were unnecessary. Niko was reduced to pacing nervously while Brick and Bob glowered at him.

Finally, after Olan finished, Hansen took a moment to digest everything. Without uttering a word to the others, he left the shack. Niko grinned at his partner.

"Looks like we're in business," he said.

"What makes you so sure?" Brick demanded. "For all we know, he's gone off to order our last meal."

"Nope," Olan answered. "He left with his game face on. He's ordering the strike."

"Well, Phelps," Niko said, smirking, "looks like you're going to get that chance to prove yourself. Ever been in combat?"

"Do me a favor, Niko. When this is all over, go fuck yourself," Bob said.

The door opened again, admitting two large men in fatigues. They had shouldered their weapons, but looked no less threatening. The men escorted the four captives to another building where they were outfitted before being loaded onto one of the UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters that would take their small force to a waiting vessel at sea. The lengthy flight delivered them to the aircraft carrier, the USS Abraham Lincoln, which was well underway to Oleander's island. With the additional personnel aboard the ship and the other vessels in her flotilla, it looked as if they were going to war.

That's exactly what they were doing, Niko reminded himself as the helicopter settled on the deck. Brick looked as if he wanted to jump overboard when he left the aircraft, glancing around with his hand clutching the knife at his hip. Phelps, with his hands now free from the cuffs, was led away by two sailors, leaving Niko and Olan to contend with the increasingly agitated giant.

"What the fuck am I doing here?" Brick muttered to himself.

"Steady, big guy," Olan said. "Just pretend you're back in your military days on maneuvers. With any luck, we'll all get out of this with our balls intact."

"Shut the fuck up," Brick growled over the wind that buffeted them.

"Knock it off, both of you," Niko commanded.

A man in black fatigues approached them, saluting smartly as he snapped to attention. He led them to the captain's quarters where Colonel Hansen was already mapping a battle plan. Air reconnaissance was in route to the island strong hold. They awaited photos and reports of the flight crew's findings.

As they discussed scenarios, Brick paced like a caged tiger. Niko kept one eye on him while listening with growing alarm to what they military was planning. Finally unable to stand anymore, he broke into their discussion.

"You can't just go in there and bomb the hell out of them," he growled. "Camille would be the first to die."

"It's regrettable," Hansen said slowly, "but we have to make sure we stop Oleander, Niko. You know that. There's more at stake than one woman's life."

"She isn't just a woman," Niko said, a low hint of danger in his voice. "She's my wife! I mean to get her out of there."

"Out of the question," another man said, stepping into the room.

Hansen offered a quick salute before introducing the man to Niko, Olan and Brick.

"This is Admiral Jameson, gentlemen," he said. "He's in charge of this operation."

"I don't give a fuck if the President is in charge," Niko yelled. "I want my wife out of there before the first shot is fired."

"That would be counter-productive," Jameson said in a clipped, business-like tone. "Let's just keep our minds on the objective, shall we?"

"The objective," Niko countered, "is to get Camille out alive, goddammit. If not for her, you wouldn't even have this operation. She's a civilian, for Christ's sake."

"I've been well-briefed on how she was put in harm's way, Pavli," Jameson said. "That's what happens when you let your johnson do your thinking for you."

Olan and Brick both got to Niko at the same time, taking his arms before he had a chance to pound the good admiral into oblivion. As big as Brick was, he had a time trying to keep the snarling Niko under control, even with Olan's help.

It was Hansen who stepped up to take control of the situation, admonishing the admiral with a look and silencing Niko.

"Enough," he said, placing a hand on Niko's shoulder. "From what you've told me, Camille is a smart woman. She'll look after herself."

"Just give me two men and a head start," Niko said. "That's all I ask."

Hansen turned to look at Jameson, the latter offering a curt nod in response. Hansen barked orders at a soldier by the door, waiting for him to exit before facing Niko again.

"You'll have one hour once you hit land – no more than that. You understand?"

"Yeah," Niko replied.

"I'm sending a couple of SEALs with you-" Hansen began, only to be cut short by Olan.

"Hey, just a minute, pal," Olan said, stepping in front of Niko. "You're not figuring on leaving me out of this, are you?"

"I didn't want to speak for you, partner. You already took one bullet in this mess."

"And I lived. We started out together. We finish this together."

"Ah, hell," Brick growled from the other side of the room. "I'm in, too. You ain't leavin' me here with a bunch of pantywaist sailors. Besides, I wanna meet this wife of yours. She's gotta be a hell of a woman."

With a grim expression, Niko shook each man's hand in turn, his voice gruff to mask his emotions.

"You know I'll never forget it."

"Sirs," a young army captain said from the doorway. "Air reconnaissance is sending back photos. The satellite's in position now, too."

The men adjourned to the bridge where they finished their battle plans. The entire flotilla became a flurry of activity as the vessels were readied for the mission ahead. It would be at least another ten hours before they reached their objective, so Olan suggested to his partners that they all try to get some sleep. The night ahead would be a long one.

***

"Did you get any sleep?" Camille asked softly as she carefully pushed herself to her feet.

The two women had lain together on the bed, each trying to get much-needed rest as the late afternoon faded into evening. Camille's body ached in protest of each movement, her limbs stiff and her injured skin drawing tight.

"A little," Lorette whispered. "I'm so tired, Camille. I don't want to do this anymore. They're never going to let us out of here, are they?"

Camille felt a pang of anger at everything the poor woman had been through. If Oleander had not lopped off his family jewels himself, she would be very tempted to remove them with her own hands.

"No," Camille told her. "They have no intention of letting us go. That's why we have to be ready. The first time they slip up, you and I are out of here."

"How?" Lorette whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "How can we possibly escape? Even if we managed to get out of here, there's still an ocean full of sharks to deal with. We're going to die here."

"No, we're not," Camille snarled. "I have no intention of giving them the satisfaction. Just stay close to me, no matter what. When we get our chance, we'll run. If I know that husband of mine, he's probably on his way right now. He can be a nasty son-of-a-bitch. He'll come up with something."

"What if he can't find us?"

"He'll be here," Camille said with more conviction than she felt. "If not, we'll just have to find our own way out."

Glancing out the window, Lorette noticed the sliver of moon, already high in the sky. With a frown, she moved closer.

"I wonder what time it is," she said.

"Probably well past dinner time," Camille said. "I wonder where Olaf is. Seems to me he'd have brought some food by now."

"You hungry? How can you even think of food?"

"Yes, I'm hungry. Besides, we need to keep our strength up."

"I don't see how you have any strength left after what they did to you. You should be resting, not pacing the floor."

Camille stopped in mid-step, turning to give Lorette a pained smile. Reaching her arms up, she stretched her body slowly.

"Gotta loosen my muscles up. I'm stiff as a starched shirt."

"I still say you should be resting..."

Lorette fell silent at the sound of the lock turning in the door. Olaf entered bearing a tray draped in white cloth. He set the tray on the table, lifting the cloth to reveal sandwiches for the women. There was a strange light in his eyes when he lifted his gaze to Camille's face. Then he was gone.

"He gives me the creeps," Lorette whispered.

"Me, too," Camille admitted as she snatched a sandwich from the tray.

The sound of clinking metal caught her attention. There, on the plate where her sandwich had been, lay a single brass key. Before Lorette had a chance to see it, she snatched it up and stuffed it into a pocket. It seemed almost too convenient for the silent man to give her a key to the very door that held them prisoner.

She chewed on a bite of food, thinking about the strange, silent butler. He had given her a gun and now a key. It was almost as if he wanted her to try to escape. Was it a trap? Shaking her head, she stepped to the window, gazing through the glass and bars to the night beyond.

Far below on the ground, she could see men walking, making their rounds as they guarded Oleanders expansive home. Using the key to get out would serve no purpose. If by some miracle the women managed to get outside, they'd still have to contend with the guards, and then there was the matter of the ocean that surrounded the island.

"What are you thinking, Camille?" Lorette asked.

"I'm thinking of getting out. Lorette, you have to believe. We'll get out of here somehow."

***

There wasn't much light cast by the moon. Three men, their faces set in grim lines, crouched together next to an out-cropping of rock on an expansive, sandy beach. They were armed with a small knowledge of the terrain—thanks to satellite imagery and air reconnaissance—but little else other than the weapons at hand.

"I hope you got a plan, Pavli."

Brick's harsh whisper tore the air like a scream in the night. Olan winced visibly, once more checking the area with his night-vision goggles. Niko, for his part, looked completely unflustered.

"Yeah," Niko said. "I'm going in the front door."

"Have you lost your mind?" Olan asked, incredulous. "You won't even get to the door before they cut you down."

"How much time we got left?" Niko asked.

"Fifty-six minutes and counting."

"It's now or never," Niko said. He checked his weapon once more, then patted the small canvass bag he carried under his arm. "Ready?"

"No," the other two men said in unison.

"I'm going to circle around to the front. You guys run interference and stay back. I don't want them to know you're here."

"This is suicide," Olan muttered.

"We're wasting time," Niko retorted as he dodged to the shadow of the trees up ahead.

Brick growled before following. Olan charged after them, saying a silent prayer to any patron saint that might be listening. He had the feeling this would be the last time he saw his partner alive.

Brick had a nose for traps. He found the trip wires and landmines that littered the sparse path under them. There were cameras, too, but they managed to keep out of sight. Before long, they were hiding in the shadows of a clearing that surrounded a massive building.

"Jesus," Olan whispered. "You could fit half the Pentagon in that thing."

"Looks like a castle," Brick said. "All that's missing is the moat and fire-breathing dragons."

The three shrank farther back when two guards drew near. Not far behind them was another set of guards, following the same path. Olan counted no less than ten men in the towers that surrounded the building and at least eight more on the ground.
"Here's how we play it," Niko whispered when the guards were out of earshot. "I'm going to walk straight up to the door. You two hang back and wait for reinforcements. As soon as Hansen gives the signal, try to take out as many of the patrol as you can before all hell breaks loose."

"That's your plan?" Brick growled.

"I don't like it," Olan said.

"Got any better ideas?"

"Yeah. We get the hell out of here," Brick muttered.

"Niko," said Olan. "You'll never make it. Those bastards will shoot you on sight."

"I doubt it," Niko returned. "Oleander wants me alive. He's got plans for me. When he gets his hands on this little box," he patted the bag again, "he's going to want answers."

"He's going to want to cut you to shreds, you mean."

"I'll take that chance. Partner, if I don't make it, get Camille out of here. Make sure she's safe."

Olan nodded, knowing that the chances of any of them making it out alive were slim. He held his tongue, deciding it would be better not to point out the obvious. Niko slapped his shoulder before darting into the open clearing.

He made it halfway across before a shot was fired. Brick and Olan watched helplessly as Niko was set upon by what appeared to be half a platoon of armed men. There was nothing they could do.

***

"Something's happening," Camille whispered as she pressed her face to the glass of the window.

"What?" Lorette asked as she joined Camille.

Both women watched as bright search lights flashed on. Men far below were all running, most of them in the same direction. Something had raised the alarm.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it can't be good. Remember, stay close to me, Lorette."

They continued to watch the scene on the ground, but from their limited viewpoint, they really couldn't tell what was happening. They couldn't hear anything from this distance. Frustrated, Camille began to pace, reaching into her pocket every so often to touch the key. It was a strange item, not shaped like any key she'd seen before. It had to fit a very unusual lock, which left out the door to their room.

There were footsteps in the hall. It sounded like many people running in panic all at once. Checking to see that Lorette was still watching the people outside, Camille quietly opened the wardrobe where they stored their few items of clothing.

"Put your shoes on," Camille said as she tossed a pair at Lorette.

Both women had not bothered to put shoes on during their endless confinement of the last few days. It had been a choice for comfort, but at this point, it would be best to be prepared. As Lorette bent to slide the shoes over her slender feet, Camille pulled the hidden handgun from her pair of black flats. She slipped it into one pocket of her dress and the clips into the other one while simultaneously leaning into the wardrobe and jamming her feet into the shoes.

The effort cost her. Her raw flesh scraped painfully against the fabric of her dress, causing her to wince. She bit her lower lip to stifle the moan and did her best to ignore the discomfort. She had to be ready.

Ready for what, she had no idea. It seemed to take forever to find out. After an indeterminate amount of time, the door swung open to reveal Alma and Olaf.

"Come on," she said, waving a hand at Camille. "The man wants you."

Camille took Lorette's hand, pulling her along.

"Just you," Alma said.

"I'm not going anywhere without her, so you can get that through your thick head right now. She comes with me, or you'll have a fight on your hands."

The woman seemed to consider this for a few moments before shrugging her shoulders. She stepped back from the door to allow the women to pass.

"What do I care? You want the simpleton to watch what happens, that's your business."

Olaf led the way to the elevator, stepping back to let women enter first. Alma stayed behind, a smirk on her lovely, cold face. She looked a little too smug for Camille's comfort.

The doors closed after Olaf entered. Camille draped an arm about Lorette, hoping to give the quivering woman some much-needed strength. Olaf gave her a meaningful stare, capturing Camille's full attention. A sound came from the man, a hum of tuneless dimensions that seemed to make little sense. His voice sounded like a rusty hinge, attesting to its lack of use.

He repeated the sounds, still holding Camille's gaze with his own. A pattern emerged, the sounds stringing together to almost create a phrase. She could only frown in confusion, but listened intently. She recognized from his expression he was imparting something important. Finally, she hummed the phrase with him.

Olaf seemed satisfied as he turned to push a button on the elevator. He didn't look at either woman again until the lift came to a stop. He gave Camille a stern expression just as the doors opened. She nodded and stepped through, allowing him to lead them to a room where he locked them in again.

"What's going to happen now?" Lorette whispered.

Camille felt real pity for her. The poor woman had been through so much. Fear and uncertainty had become a way of life for her. But Camille wasn't in much better shape. It was all she could do to remain calm and keep her mind working.

A few moments later, they heard voices outside the door. One was Alma's, the other belonged to Gerhardt. Gerhardt sounded enraged, while Alma's voice was cajoling, as if trying to calm him down. Though it was difficult to make out all that was being said, it was obvious that their discussion was connected to whatever had triggered the activity outside the building. The volume of the voices rose and dropped, but even with her ear pressed to the door, Camille could understand little of it.

After they went away, Camille turned to Lorette with a small smile. "Niko's here," she said simply.

"How do you know?"

"Only Niko can cause such a commotion or make people that mad. He's here. Stay close, Lorette. When the time comes, be ready to run."

It wasn't long before two men entered the room to drag Camille out. She fought hard, wrapping her arms around Lorette and refusing to let go. In the end, they took both women to their new destination.

They entered Oleander's immense study. Lorette let out a cry when she was separated from Camille and held in the iron grip of one guard. The other pulled Camille back against him, holding the blade of a knife up in front of her face while his arm encircled her neck to hold her fast.

"Let her go."

The low, menacing voice pulled Camille's attention from the glittering blade. Her heart skipped more than one beat when she looked into the face of her husband. He didn't look directly at her, but at the man who held all the strings behind the giant desk.

"She's got nothing to do with this, Oleander. Let her go."

"Ah, but I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Pavli. I'm a patient man, but my patience is wearing thin. You have something of mine and I want it back."

Oleander's voice was more cold than usual. All pretense of congenial host was dropped revealing the soulless man who demanded total obedience. When he stepped from behind the desk to face Camille, a cold shudder of revulsion coursed down her spine.

"My dear," he said without a trace of emotion. "Your husband has proved to be very uncooperative." He held up a gray metal box for her to see. "All that I ask is that my property be returned and instead he brought this obvious replica. What do you think I should do to convince him?"

Camille only glared at him. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Cat got your tongue?" Oleander said. "No matter. I'm sure we can convince your husband to divulge his secrets."

He nodded at someone behind her. Within moments, Olaf opened the door to the study, admitting Emil Gerhardt. The ruined visage that glared at her nearly caused her stomach to rebel. The carved side of his face had scabbed over, looking worse than when Oleander had done it. It was his eyes, though, that nearly pushed her over the edge. Never had she seen such hatred as that which this man aimed at her.

"I will ask you one more time, Mr. Pavli," Oleander said. "Your failure to answer this time will result in Mr. Gerhardt having his way with your wife. Be assured that it will be anything but pleasant. Now, where is my hard drive?"

Camille looked at Niko's face; saw the pain and the rage he kept so tightly controlled. She knew he would not tell Oleander anything. She finally understood why Niko had been trying so hard to protect her, what it was that kept him on the run. No matter what he did, no matter what he gave Oleander, the man was still going to kill them both. There was no way to stop him and he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Gerhardt took a step closer. He was actually salivating at the prospect of causing her pain and death. She could see it in his eyes—and in the drool that seeped from the corner of his mouth.

"Keep your hands off my wife," Niko ground out.

Camille glanced over to see her husband advancing. The two men that flanked him grabbed his arms, pulling him back as Gerhardt reached out wrap his fist in her hair. He wrenched her head back and to the side, his mouth descending to grind harshly against hers. She barely heard Niko's roar over the rush of blood in her ears. Her hand stole into her pocket, clutching the grip of the handgun Olaf had given her. If she was meant to die, it would be under her own terms.

The next sound she heard was strange. It started out as a long, keening whistle. It seemed muffled, as if coming from a great distance. Then the world began to shudder, the very air around them trembling. If not for the two men holding her, she would have crashed to the floor.

Then all was chaos. No Fourth of July fireworks display had ever prepared her for the violence of this explosion. Clouds of smoke and dust filled the air as chunks of debris rained down on her head. She dropped to the floor before she realized she was free.

In the next instant, she was on her feet, choking on the foul air while she tried to find Niko and Lorette. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Someone grabbed her arm, the grip too strong for her to fight, but fight she did. It was only after he got her arms pinned to her sides that she saw the white gloves on the hands. It was Olaf.

"Where's Niko?" she asked, but the butler only stared at her.

"Lorette?"

He pointed the way, leading her to where he'd seen the other woman fall. Voices were screaming all around—some in pain and anguish, others in pure rage. Men seemed to appear from nowhere, bumping into her, nearly toppling her in their haste to reach safety. There was another explosion, this one farther away, that shook the mansion to its rafters once more. Chunks of brick and mortar made hissing sounds as they flew past.

Finally, Camille could see Lorette. She was curled in a ball on the floor, her arms encasing her head in an effort to protect it.

"Get up!" Camille screamed, tugging on the girl's arm. "We have to get out of here now."

Lorette stumbled to her feet, her hand clenched tightly around Camille's. Prying her fingers loose, Camille shoved Lorette at Olaf, turning, then, to search for Niko.

"Camille!"

That one lone cry showed her the way. As more explosions tore through the building, she managed to find her husband, to feel his arms close about her. For the briefest of moments, all sound ceased to exist. His heart beat against her cheek, his scent filled her nostrils.

"Camille," Lorette yelled over the din. "We gotta run."

The next explosion was too close, sending them all sprawling in the rubble. Niko was the first to his feet, pulling his wife up along side. As he began to drag her toward what he thought was safety, she stopped him.

"We have to take Lorette and Olaf," she shouted over the din.

"My dad," Lorette said. "I have to find him."

"Who are these people?" Niko yelled back. "There's no time. We leave now."

Lorette was already heading back into the rubble of the building with Camille on her heels. Niko let loose a stream of Greek curses designed to bring her up short, but she only grabbed his hand to drag him along.

"Damn it, Camille," he yelled. "This whole place is coming down."

"I promised to help her," Camille yelled back.

Olaf was at the front, leading the way deeper into the house. A man with a gun stepped into his path. Quick as a flash, the silent butler grabbed the man's head and snapped his neck. Glancing back at the women, he stepped over the body to continue along his path.

"Who is that guy?" Niko demanded.

"He's a friend," was all Camille said as she followed.

"Pavli," a voice called out.

Niko rounded, ready to fight whoever was behind them. Camille turned to see a man of such gigantic proportions she had to stop and gape. He was beyond enormous, dwarfing even the immense size of the stone-lined hallway in which they stood as well as the enormous weapons he carried. If she hadn't been so shocked, she might have had the presence of mind to be scared.

"Brick," Niko yelled back. "Where you hiding Olan?"

"Ground troops are on the way," Olan said.

To Camille's relief, Niko's partner stepped out from behind the behemoth. She wanted to hug the very breath from his lungs. Before she could voice her relief, they heard shouting coming from a room ahead. Olaf waved everyone back against the wall as he peered around the corner. He turned back to give Camille a meaningful look before sidling into the room.

Camille distinctly heard Oleander's voice, as well as that of Emil Gerhardt and several others. There was another series of small explosions at the front of the house. It sounded like a battle scene from a Vietnam War movie. Lorette put a hand over her own mouth to stifle a scream at the sound of gunshots in the room.

"Olaf," Camille said softly.

"Who's Olaf?" Niko demanded.

"He saved my life," she said. "We have to help him."

She pulled the small gun from her dress pocket and fumbled with the loaded clip. Niko, one brow cocked, took the weapon from her, loaded it and handed it back to her.

"Don't be afraid to use it," he said.

"I won't."

She dashed forward only to be stopped by Niko.

"Where are you going?"

"To help him. Oleander will kill him."

"Stay put," Niko ordered, waving to the men behind. "Let's get him, boys,"

The three men charged into the room in a volley of gunfire, leaving the two women behind to worry about their fate.

"This is bullshit," Camille announced. She moved in front of Lorette and edged her way to the door. "Stay behind me."

The sounds of explosions and gunfire to the rear were getting louder, the battle drawing closer. Lorette made no sound, but Camille could feel her shaking in fear. Soon there would be no place left to hide.

She heard more shots in the room, peeking around the corner to see that Niko and his men were pinned behind an over-turned table. Oleander was behind a pillar, his gun drawing a bead on a bleeding Olaf. Camille fired first.

She missed Oleander's skull by mere inches, the bullet lodging in the wood of the pillar. It was enough to draw the creature's attention as he turned the gun on her. She ducked back behind the doorway, panting in fear. Another volley of shots rang out.

When she chanced a glance again, Olaf was on his feet; his large frame heaving while he stumbled toward Oleander's hiding spot. At that moment, Gerhardt stepped from behind a large file cabinet to take aim. In one shot, the silent butler lay on the ground, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

Camille let out a cry, pulling herself back behind the wall.

"What happened?" Lorette asked.

"Olaf. He killed Olaf."

There was another explosion—this one too close—that had the women dropping to the floor. More shots were fired inside the room. Camille was in a crouched position, the gun clutched in her sweating hand, with Lorette clinging to her dress.

"I can't stand this," Camille said.

Shaking Lorette's hand loose, she duck-walked forward to get a better look. Three hired guns still had Niko and the others trapped, while Gerhardt was making his way around behind them. Oleander remained in his hiding place, allowing his mercenaries to do his dirty work. The man looked positively unruffled.

She took a shot at Oleander, then dashed across the doorway to get behind the other wall. Now standing at her full height, she had a better view of the snake that intended to kill her husband. He was almost in position. His weapon was raised; his eyes alight with a vicious gleam while shots rang out between Niko's side and those that had them pinned.

"No!" she screamed as she stepped from cover.

She fired several shots, even after Gerhardt fell. Another explosion sent chunks of brick and mortar crumbling down, forcing her to duck and cover. A round of gunfire burst around her in a deafening cacophony. When the smoke cleared, it was Niko's hand that lifted her to her feet.

"What the hell were you doing?" he yelled.

She was shaken, her eyes wild with fear. Running her hands over his body, she looked for any sign of blood. When she saw that he was in one piece, she threw her arms about him.

"I thought he was going to kill you."

"Damn it, woman. If I need you to fight my battles--"

"Your battles?" she screamed as she stepped back. "Where the hell do you think I've been all this time? This isn't just your battle anymore."

She stopped, glancing across the room at the bodies strewn about. When she located Gerhardt's, she shuddered in revulsion.

"I told him I'd kill him," she said softly. "I told him I'd do it for ever touching me."

Niko pulled her close, feeling her wince when he hugged her tight. He loosened his grip, took a long look at her.

"Is he the one who did this to you?"

She could see the rage and the pain in his eyes. She knew she looked horrible, her face and body battered. All she could do was nod.

"Poor Olaf," she murmured. "He saved me."

"I owe him a debt I can never repay," Niko said.

"Niko," Olan called out. "Brick's hit."

"Oleander?" he yelled back.

"Out that door there," Olan said, pointing to a back entrance. "The son-of-a-bitch wasn't even touched."

"Lorette," Camille said, suddenly remembering the other woman.

She found Lorette in fetal position once more, covered in bits of rubble and dust. She pulled her to her feet and through the door. Another round of gunfire sounded from down the hall. This time it seemed that fewer shots were returned.

"It's World War three out there," Lorette muttered.

"Camille," Niko called out. "Brick's hit in the chest. Can you help him?"

She rushed to comply with Lorette still attached to her arm. Both women dropped to the floor beside the fallen man. Lorette let out a startled cry at the amount of blood pouring from the gaping wound. Without hesitation, the woman tore the man's shirt open, using a piece of it to stem the flow of blood.

"I must be dying," the big man growled, "because you sure look like an angel."
Log in or Sign up to continue reading!