The case officer ran off to his left, out of view, and as Court himself approached the turn he shouted, “I hope you backed it in!”

He turned the corner, slowed, and saw the nose of a Land Rover pointed right at him, facing a long, straight stretch of road.

“Good job, kid,” he wheezed to himself, completely out of breath now.

Zack and Court climbed into the Land Rover, Zack taking the front passenger seat, and, as Jason stomped on the gas, Hightower began reloading his MPX.

Right in front of them two men with Kalashnikovs barreled down the stairs on the left and out into the street. They turned, saw the onrushing SUV, and made to raise their weapons.

Zack was still reloading; Court had no gun in the backseat.

Zack said, “Run ’em down, Jason!”

The CIA officer started to swerve to miss the men, an automatic movement, but Zack grabbed the wheel and shifted it back to the left. Jason recovered quickly and, at fifty miles an hour and accelerating, he slammed into both men in the street, crumpling the hood of the Land Rover and spiderwebbing the windshield as an AK slammed into it.

But the airbags did not deploy.

Zack slapped Jason on the back roughly. “Atta boy! And you even thought to disable the air bags, too! Damn fine work for a rookie, kid!”

Court caught a glance at Jason through the rearview mirror. The kid looked like he was about to have a heart attack. Court reached up and squeezed the young man’s shoulder. “Relax, Red. Just breathe and drive. We’re good.”

Court directed him to the east, and seconds later he saw Zoya and the Asian woman moving purposefully up the street amid a crowd panicking about all the gunfire emanating from just a couple of blocks away. “Stop!”

Jason stomped on the brake pedal, the Land Rover squealed to a halt, and Court opened the back door.

Zoya pushed the woman forward, right in front of astonished passersby. The white SUV squealed again as the driver floored it.

Zoya grabbed a roll of electrician’s tape in the door of the SUV, then spent several seconds binding the woman’s hands behind her back. She put more tape all the way around her head, covering her mouth and hair at the neckline.

Then, with wild eyes and in a rushed and fluid motion, she grabbed Court by the back of the neck. She pushed him back against the side door, put her entire body on him, and kissed him deeply.

Court’s fight-or-flight reflexes spun in confusion, but within a few seconds, he kissed her back, aware simultaneously that the adrenaline coursing through his body now was having a nearly complete painkilling effect on all his injuries of the past forty-eight hours.

That’s not going to last long, he told himself.

When she finally pulled off him she said, “Thank you.” He saw his own blood streaked on her face.

In the front passenger seat Zack’s head was craned all the way towards the action in the back. He said, “So . . . yeah . . . I was there, too. So . . .”

Zoya glanced his way quickly. “Thank you, sir,” she said, then turned her attention back to the man next to her.

Zack muttered to himself as he turned back around to the front. “You’re welcome. Not exactly the same as what he got but . . . you’re welcome.”

When Zoya pulled back away after kissing Court again, he looked down at his left hand. The back of it was a deep purple, and it was swollen at the wrist.

“Shit,” he said. “This is broken.”

“Shooting hand?” Zack asked.

“Negative.”

“Don’t need it. Carry on,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Jason directed Zoya to a medical kit in the back of the Rover; from it she pulled a chemical cold compress that she activated by breaking a capsule inside a plastic bag. Almost instantly the eight-inch-by-six-inch compress whitened with frost. She put it on the back of Court’s hand, then began wrapping it with an ACE bandage.

Looking him over, she said, “I see you met your big friend again.”

“I did.”

“How did it go this time?”

“How do I look?”

“Not good.”

“Then you have your answer.”

She adjusted the compress. “Well, you got at least one solid hit in.”

Court realized she assumed he’d broken a bone in his hand while hitting Hines. He sighed and laid his head back on the headrest. “This happened when I punched out a totally innocent windshield.”

They drove back to the safe house in near silence as everyone worked on fighting the effects of adrenaline and the onset of exhaustion. Even Jason was too amped up to talk.

CHAPTER 54

   Jason pulled the Land Rover into the detached garage of the farm west of Edinburgh, then helped Gentry out of the back. Court’s body was besieged with pain; even walking was difficult, and he warned them it was going to take him some time. Jason then took the prisoner out of the vehicle and guided her by the arm to the house, and Zoya rushed forward to get another ice bath prepped for Court.

This left Zack to get under Court’s right arm and help him walk up the long drive.

As they moved slowly, Zack looked at Court, regarding his black eye, cut nose, and fat lip, and the purple-gray discoloration along his jawline.

“I just want you to know I respect your ability to maintain your cover identity as a punching bag.”

“Thanks,” Court said through gritted teeth. Then, “This dude was unreal, Zack.”

“A human did that to you? I thought you’d lost a fight with a trash compactor.”

“Superhuman. Like nothing I’ve ever faced.”

Zack spit on the gravel. “Whatever. I’ll kick his ass for you next time we see him.”

Court ignored the bluster.

After a few more steps Hightower said, “That’s Zakharov’s daughter? She doesn’t sound Russian.”

Court shuffled along slowly with Zack’s help. “She’s got a thing with accents.”

“She’s hot. Tell me she’s with us.”

“She’s with us.” Court glanced to Zack. “I think.”

“Brewer said your mission was the dad. He’s cooking up something nasty. Saving the chick was just personal.”

“She’s good, man. We needed to get her back. I did the right thing.”

“Maybe we’ll get some downtime tonight. You’re beat to shit, so the only two dudes here able to give her any attention are me and that goofy-looking case officer. I like my chances.” He laughed to himself as they neared the front porch. “Never did a Russian. Wonder if she smells like caviar or borscht.”