Oceans of Fire Read online

  "Jackson knows what's he doing." Jonas handed him night glasses. "You might need these."

  "Thanks."

  "I'm going to hit them with the light when they're all well away from the boat," Jonas said, holding up a powerful floodlight. "Wait for me to identify myself and tell them they're under arrest."

  "I have no problem with that."

  "Let's go, then," Jonas said.

  Jonas knew the terrain, so Aleksandr dropped back to allow him the lead. They stayed in the shadow of the foliage, keeping out of the moonlight as they made their way over the uneven ground to the fence. They went over the wire one at a time, keeping their actions slow and fluid, trying to blend with the moving shadows. The wind accompanied them, riffling the vegetation, keeping it in constant motion to help confuse the eye of any watcher.

  Jonas crouched low as the ground began to swell, moving faster now to cover more terrain and get into position. Aleksandr split off and went left as they dropped down on the other side of the small hill. The cove came into view, nestled between two rising cliffs. Windswept cypress covered the tops of both cliffs, although one rocky shelf fingered out toward the sea, sheltering the cove from prying eyes. The entire area was wild with an explosion of flowers and shrubs and trees. Waves washed up onto the sandy, rock-strewn shore. Twisted pieces of driftwood lay scattered across the sand, taking on dark, malevolent shapes. The boom of the sea was loud and echoed through the small well-protected cove. White water sprayed high along the sides of the cliff.

  Aleksandr hunkered down, crawling as close to the edge of cover as he could get. Two boulders crowed together just at the vegetation line and he used them to his advantage, lying flat behind them, the hole between them perfect to see through. He had a good view of the cove and the sea. The idea of Prakenskii lying in wait with a scope and rifle somewhere up above him gave him an all too familiar itch between his shoulder blades. He didn't move, didn't make the mistake of looking for more cover, but kept his eyes trained on the sea.

  Minutes passed. Fifteen. Thirty. An hour. The night air was cold on his skin. He glanced again at his watch. He might be wrong. There was every chance that they were in the wrong cove. Or that it was the wrong night, that he'd completely misread the signs. He remained still and was grateful for Jonas's professionalism. The sheriff didn't make a sound.

  The wind grew stronger, ruffling his hair and the grasses surrounding him. He heard a soft song, feminine voices riding on the sea breeze. The words were incomprehensible, but the notes slipped into his mind in warning. He slid his gun out with a slow, careful movement and eased it into the wide hole between the two rocks. He had a good angle on the beach and could cover almost all of the shore.

  Aleksandr felt the wind touch his face, and he strained to see past the long plateaus of rock. The sound of an engine carried over the boom of the sea. He let his breath out slowly and slipped his fingers inside his shirt to warm them.

  The Zodiac swept into sight, coming in fast, rolling over the waves and straight toward shore. Aleksandr lifted the night glasses to his face, focusing on the incoming boat. There were four men, two standing and two seated. He recognized three of the men with AK-47s nestled in their arms. They'd been sitting at Nikitin's table at the Caspar Inn. The fourth man was a stranger. He held what appeared to be a small suitcase. The driver took the boat right up onto the sand, riding a wave as far up the shore as possible. Two of the men jumped out and dragged the boat farther up onto the beach.

  The others leapt clear and began hurrying toward the cover of the denser brush. Aleksandr kept his eye on the man with the suitcase. He was the last to get out of the boat and lagged behind the other three men, who now had the AKs up and ready for action as they fanned out and moved up the sand toward the wilder terrain. They were obviously protecting the man with the suitcase.

  Aleksandr willed him to move away from the boat. Every few steps he halted and looked around, clearly wanting the others to reach the brush before he ventured too far from the safety of the boat. The three men were within feet of cover. Aleksandr swore to himself. Jonas was going to be forced to hit them with the light and the man with the suitcase was still too close to the Zodiac and could possibly escape.

  The wind shifted slightly. He heard the catch in the voices of the women. Alarm. It was the only warning he had. The man with the suitcase sagged to the ground, lay sprawled only feet from the boat, the case beside him in the sand. Staring through the night glasses, Aleksandr saw the stain spreading out like a halo around his head.

  Even as Jonas hit the other three men with the floodlight, temporarily blinding them, a second man went down and then the third without a sound. The remaining man threw himself to his right, but Aleksandr knew it was too late. Someone had to be using a Russian-made VSS Vintorez sniper rifle with a silencer and subsonic rounds. The range of subsonic rounds wasn't nearly as far as regular ammunition so if the sniper was Prakenskii, he had to be concealed on the finger of rock just above them.

  The sniper had fired one, two, three, four rounds, just that fast. Squeezing the trigger, moving to the next target, and repeating the action. Four quick rounds and four lay dead in the sand. There were no flashes to give his position away. The sound carrying across the water wasn't that of a gun, but more like a soft rat-tat-tat that was nearly lost in the boom of the ocean and the shift of the wind. Aleksandr kept his glasses trained on the four men lying in the sand, but none of them moved at all. Four shots. Four kills.

  Aleksandr could hear Jonas swearing a blue streak. "What the hell am I going to do with this mess now? Damn it." He raised his voice. "Damn it! You just can't do that kind of thing in the United States! I would have arrested the bastards. They've got the evidence on them. Now if I find anything to connect you with these kills, I'm going to have to charge your ass with murder."

  Silence met the outburst. Jonas didn't move. He stayed away from the light, obviously waiting for a signal from Jackson. It was a long time coming. The deputy had to work his way around to the finger of rocks where the shots had come from. It occurred to Aleksandr that while they waited to ensure they were in the clear, they were giving Prakenskii time to get away. He had to make his way through the brush in silence, avoiding Jackson, avoiding leaving a trail, and make his getaway.

  There would be no evidence. There was never evidence of Prakenskii's passing. Just the dead bodies left behind. Aleksandr was certain the shooter was the Russian, but he would be long gone and impossible to find. Even if Jonas got lucky and got his hands on the man, there would never be proof. They wouldn't find the rifle. It was probably already in the sea. There would be no residue, no sign of him. That was Prakenskii. The phantom, more legend than real.

  The owl hooted. Once. Twice. Three times.

  Jonas swore again. "Jackson can't find him. We have no idea if he's around so I'll go out and examine the bodies for signs of life. You stay out of sight and shoot the son of a bitch if he kills me."

  The wind rushed in off the sea. Aleksandr felt the light touch of reassurance. "He's long gone." How the Drake sisters knew and could convey the information to him, he wasn't entirely certain, but he knew Prakenskii had melted away into the night.

  Jonas came out of the brush cautiously. "You'd think one of the Drakes would be able to track him if he's really like they are. They always seem to know when there's trouble with each other." He made his way down to the first body. "I'd say he was dead. He shot him in the left eye. Each kill was made that way. This guy's good."

  He raised his voice. "Jackson, we'll need to work the crime scene. You have a camera on you? We'll have to do it from a distance. I don't want to go anywhere near that bomb."

  "In the car. Gloves too." Jackson was still above them. "There's no sign at all, Jonas. He's a ghost."

  "What was he using?"

  Aleksandr answered. "A Russian sniper rifle. Probably a VSS Vintorez SP-6 with a built-in silencer and subsonic cartridges. It was designed for special ops. The newer bullets can defe
at most military-issue body armor, depending on the distance."

  "That would be my guess as well," Jackson agreed.

  "Is that what Prakenskii favors?" Jonas demanded. "This is going to be a damned headache to sort out. He should have left it the hell alone. We had it under control."

  "Prakenskii doesn't favor any one weapon. And you have absolutely nothing on him and you won't either. If you haul him in to interrogate him, he'll have an ironclad alibi and it won't be with someone you don't trust. It will be someone like Aunt Carol. He probably plants the suggestion they've been together the entire time and the person will believe they have been." Aleksandr pushed himself into a sitting position, the gun still ready in his hands. "No wonder there are so many rumors about him."

  "Before we do anything else, let's get a call in to the bomb squad and the FBI," Jonas said. He skirted driftwood and dead bodies to reach the fourth man, where he crouched down, taking care not to disturb the scene or get too close to the bomb. "We can let them handle it. I plan on having children someday. Radiation poisoning isn't my idea of fun."

  Jonas glanced in Aleksandr's direction. "Do you recognize any of these men?"

  "The three with the AKs worked for Nikitin. They were sitting at his table at the Caspar Inn. The fourth man, and I'm guessing here, is likely to belong to whatever terrorist group wanted the bomb brought in. He's the deliveryman. They were going to kill Kingman all along. Prakenskii gave him to us, figuring he had a fifty-fifty shot at making it with us and none with Nikitin."

  Jonas had crouched down beside the suitcase. "Chernyshev could certainly identify Prakenskii."

  "Not as our shooter," Aleksandr told him.

  Jackson handed Jonas gloves and the camera he'd retrieved from the car. "I wouldn't count on Chernyshev identifying anyone. I just got off the radio. Dispatch said someone ran Tom's car off the road before he could reach Ukiah with the prisoners. The deputy's in the hospital but the two prisoners are dead. Both took a bullet in the throat."

  Jonas swore again. "We don't have this many dead bodies in a year." He flashed Aleksandr a dark, suspicious look. "You don't seem too shocked."

  "I can't say I am. Nikitin is known for his penchant for killing anyone who might betray him. Kingman and Chernyshev could identify him. It was a matter of time."

  "You might have warned me. I could have lost a good deputy. As it is Tom is injured."

  "I had no way of knowing Nikitin would strike so fast."

  Jonas straightened up and moved around with care as he took pictures of each body from several angles. "It could have been Prakenskii."

  "You know it wasn't." Aleksandr spread his arms out wide to include the entire cove. "This is Prakenskii's work. We've got the bomb and that's what counts."

  "And I've got a bunch of dead bodies," Jonas groused. "We're going to be here all night securing the scene and most of the day tomorrow waiting for the feds."

  "I'll get coffee," Jackson said.

  19

  ABIGAIL tightened her fingers around Aleksandr's and dragged him behind the large bread rack, ducking down in an effort to hide. The grocery store was fast filling up with early morning customers. "I thought we'd be safe," she hissed. "Who gets up this early?"

  "Apparently everyone." He couldn't help but grin at her antics.

  "You think it's funny now." Abigail glared at him. "You won't in another minute or two. I have to get to the cove today. I can't let the dolphins go another day or they'll head out to sea and I'll spend ninety percent of my time trying to find them."

  Voices drifted back to them: "Inez, that can't be. I heard there were at least thirty bodies strewn around on the beach. The bomb exploded. We've all probably been exposed to radiation. Believe me, cancer is going to run rampant here in Sea Haven."

  Abigail peered through the open bread shelves to see Clyde Darden clutch his wife tightly as he delivered his message of doom in a loud, carrying voice. Several residents gasped in alarm.

  Behind the counter, Inez Nelson shook her head. "That's just silly, Clyde. Jonas was right there and he took care of everything. The bomb squad came and they handled it with no problem. The bomb certainly didn't explode. There were only four men killed, not thirty, and if you ask me, good riddance. They shouldn't have been bringing bombs into our country." She gave a little sniff and banged the cash register a little harder than necessary.

  Clyde leaned over the counter as he picked up his two bags of groceries. "Frank Warner was involved. His gallery is closed and he was hauled off to jail. They took several paintings out of his place as evidence. Some hotshot Interpol agent was watching him all this time."

  Abigail dug her thumb into Aleksandr's ribs. "That would be you," she whispered. "The hotshot."

  "Is it true, Inez?" Gina Farley, the local preschool teacher, asked. "Was Frank really arrested? He was such a nice man."

  "And so quiet," Mrs. Darden added.

  "He had shifty eyes," Clyde said. "I always suspected him of being a spy."

  "He's an art thief, not a spy," Inez corrected with a little sigh. "He had nothing to do with the bomb. Chad Kingman was involved in that, along with the Russians who were in town."

  Clyde shook his head. "It's the cold war all over again. They've invaded and are spying on our coast. I told those young punks at the coast guard station they needed to be on the alert, but they didn't listen."

  "We haven't been invaded," Inez corrected him again, a small, unusual bite in her voice. "Really, Clyde. We had an unfortunate incident and we lost a really great businessman. Frank Warner did a lot for our town. Please remember that when you start talking about him." She ducked her head, concentrating on ringing up the next customer.

  "What's going to happen to him, Inez?" Gina asked.

  "I don't know." Inez's voice was strangled. "I just don't know."

  Abigail pressed her hand over her heart. "She really cares about him, Sasha. My heart hurts for her. I think I'll ask Libby to drop by and just ease her suffering a little."

  Aleksandr leaned down to brush a kiss across her temple. "You hate to see anyone unhappy."

  "That's not necessarily true," she demurred. "At least she's running the customers through fast. That means we might be able to get out of here without questions."

  He twirled her ponytail around his finger. "You know we have to be careful, Abbey. You don't want to think about it, but that's how people die when they have someone like Ignatev after them. We have to be aware every minute."

  "I know." She met his gaze. "No one has seen him and the police raided all the houses they rented. You know he had to have fled the area. It isn't as if he wouldn't stand out here." She lowered her voice even more. "Small towns are very gossipy. We know each other's business. Clyde Darden even keeps a pair of binoculars right next to his porch chair so he can watch all his neighbors. He claims he's bird watching."

  "I don't want to know these things."

  She rubbed her head against his arm. "You're such a baby. You should have seen your face when Sylvia Fredrickson hugged you after you brought Mason back. All this time I thought you had a poker face."

  Aleksandr caught her left hand to him and stroked her bare finger. "You are still not wearing my ring."

  His eyes darkened into a midnight blue, the gathering of a large storm. Abigail felt her heart jump and the race of excitement that always came when he turned a little wild on her.

  His grip tightened on her hand as he brought her fingers to his mouth and bit gently. "I'm not happy about it. And don't give me excuses. I can see it in your eyes. You were supposed to go home and put it straight on your finger."

  She tilted her head. "Was I? I thought the man put it on the woman's finger."

  He frowned at her. "I put it on once. You took it off."

  Inez raised her voice. "The two of you can quit skulking behind the bread rack and come out now. It's safe for the moment."

  Abigail would have charged to freedom, but Aleksandr held her back, leaned close, and whis
pered against her ear, "You may have gotten a reprieve, but it is a very short one."

  She made a face at him and hurried over to Inez. "How are you?" Deliberately she touched the older woman's hand. She wasn't Libby with her miraculous healing skills, but she could at least ease Inez's depression in a small way.

  "Busy." Inez attempted a small smile. "Scandals are always good for business."

  "I'm sorry about Frank, Inez. I know you two were very good friends."

  Inez lifted her chin. "We're still very good friends. I'm going to help him all I can and if possible, keep his gallery open. Most of his business was legitimate. Unfortunately I think his love of art and his need to have it overcame his good sense. He needed to own the paintings, even if he never could share them. And to finance his need, he sold paintings to other collectors like himself." She sighed. "I think it's an addiction, much like gambling or drugs." She met Abigail's gaze for the first time. "He didn't have anything at all to do with bringing that bomb into our country. He would never do something like that."

  Aleksandr refrained from reminding Inez that Frank Warner was responsible for opening a smuggling route that enabled the terrorists to take advantage of the vulnerability. The woman obviously was very loyal to her friend and was tolerant of any of his mistakes. She was in distress and he didn't want to add to it, but Frank Warner would certainly have been responsible had the bomb been exploded in a crowded area.

  "Has Aunt Carol been in to see you?" Abigail asked.

  "Yes, she was the one who told me about Frank being arrested. She didn't want me to hear it on the news." Inez swallowed hard and gave a small sniff she covered quickly by ringing up their items. "I really appreciated her coming by personally."

  "Aunt Carol has always been very thoughtful. We're heading out to Sea Lion Cove. I've been taking care of one of the dolphins, although I think he's much better."

  "How are the wedding plans coming?"

  "We haven't had much of a chance to really work on them, but we're going to pull it together," Abbey assured her.

  "I've heard rumors that you are engaged." Inez looked pointedly at Abbey's finger and then at Aleksandr. "It is customary to give a woman a ring if you've asked her to marry you."