Nick's Mission, Part 3 (Approach)

It takes Averill less than two hours to make contact with Adan at his hostel. The mercenary is just the way Aden remembers, a tall serious black man with a trimmed beard, a porkpie hat and comfortable suit, serious face, calm demeanor. When he knocks on the door and Aden lets him in, he walks through the room, checking everything out, looking for problems. When's he's satisfied there aren't any, he takes a seat at the small desk inside the place, and waits patiently for instructions.

"I appreciate you're coming out with so little notice," Aden starts. "Do you remember Starling?"

"Serious lady," Ave murmurs.

"She's gotten herself into a jam, and we need to exfil her and one other party." Aden sighs. "And now you know as much as I do."

"Opposition?"

"Unknown."

Ave nods. "Condition of the plus-one or the principal?"

"Unknown."

Ave nods again. "Level of official attention?"

Aden smiles, lips tight. "Also unknown."

"Hmmm." Ave looks unhappy. "His Nibs didn't tell me how much we didn't know."

"I wouldn't ask, but I can't use our own people."

"You think your op is compromised from the inside?" Ave shakes his head. "This is a real bastard of a problem you've got."

Aden nods now, then shrugs. "I owe her. If you want to walk..."

Ave holds up his hand. "No worries. I just like to know what we're up against."

They get to the Dominick just before four PM, staking the place out, watching for any sign of Valentina. Ave has taken care of getting them two beat-up but serviceable sedans, a pair of headset microphones, and a pair of pistols, just in case. He's also picked up a first-aid kit from somewhere, as well as some spare clothes and cash, in case of emergencies. Aden takes the head of the street, watching the front, while Ave parks the second car at the other end of the block, so he can keep an eye on the side door. They watch the place for three hours, no sign of Val.

She said every other day, noon and five, so maybe they missed her. They come back the next day at noon, wait again. Still nothing.

The five o'clock shift doesn't get them any closer, either. That night, Nick manages to call home and let Tommy know he's okay; she fills him in on her own adventures, and they ring off with declarations of their love for each other. And he feels, for the first time in his life, like he needs to get things done and get home as soon as he can.

The next day, his third in Donets, the noon shift gives nothing. He's beginning to think he got here too late. He and Ave discuss calling it off and getting out of town. They agree one more try, and then they will pull out.

At 5:03 PM, from his surveillance post at the head of the street, Nick picks up Valentina as she exits a taxi and strolls casually into the front of the Dominick as if she owns the place. If she's checking for tails, she's not obvious about it. Instead, she walks past the front desk and takes a left into the hotel restaurant, not waiting for a waitress to seat her. She's clearly done this before; the waitress brings her the menu and a cup of coffee. "Ave, you see anything wrong from your end?" Aden says over the headset.

Ave takes a few more seconds to look around. "She seems awfully calm for someone in the middle of a blown op."

"Yah." Aden doesn't like it either. This is not playing out the way he'd expect. She's way too relaxed. He argues with himself, then makes the call. "I'm going in. If it goes bad, get the fuck out and warn the Company, and tell Mal to make a call for me. He'll know what I mean."

"I thought Mal was retired," Ave asks.

"He is." Aden gets out of the car, scoots across the street through the traffic. He enters the hotel and walks straight back, the same way Val did. When he enters the restaurant, he takes a seat at the counter, making sure he's where Val can see him. She's a solid professional; no one would ever know from her reaction to his appearance that they ever knew each other. Instead, she sips her coffee, then rises and walks back toward the bathrooms. He stands and follows her back, enough of a lead to keep it from looking odd. She disappears around the back hall corner, and he steps around, careful.

Val is waiting, a switchblade extended in her hand. "Co tu robisz?" she hisses, raising the blade to a fighting position.

"In English, please, Val," he asks, hands up. "My Polish is really rusty."

"You never wanted to practice," she chides him, frowning, her accent now totally gone. "Did they send you to terminate me? Clean up lose ends?"

Something is drastically wrong. "They told me you needed an extract. Your note at the dead drop said you had someone else who needed exfil, too."

Her face says it all. "I never left anything in the dead drop."

They both share a knowing look. They've been set up by someone. Maybe Azrael? "How fast can you be ready to go?" he asks, turning his back on her and looking around the corner toward the front doors.

"I'm ready now, but we have to pick somebody up first." Val steps around him so she can see down the hall also. "They'll already be on the way."

"Didn't see anybody up front." He knows Ave can hear them over the mike. "Ave, we're blown. Get out."

"Do you remember San Paolo?" Ave answers. Over the mike, Aden can hear a car engine start. "Big black van full of people pulling up front. They've got guns."

"San Paolo it is," Aden says, and turns to point at the back stairs leading up to the hotel rooms. "After you."

"I can't believe you just walked into my op and brought the bad guys with you," Val complains, racing up the stairs two at a time.

"In my defense," Aden points out," you are shit at telling anyone what's going on, so coming to get you was believable." They run up three flights of stairs, heading toward the back of the hotel. In their scouts earlier, Ave and Aden had noted the front and back exits could be easily blocked off, but in San Paolo once, several years back, the three of them had gotten out of a similar situation by heading across the roof. Now they're running down the third-floor hallway toward the laundry rooms. Val and Aden can both hear running footsteps behind them, shouts in Ukranian. There's the banging sound of a door being kicked open, and another sound they both recognize as a Kalishnakov **** rifle being cocked.

The two maids in the laundry room scream and run out as they run in, Aden pulling his pistol, Val going straight to the back windows. "We're in place, Ave," Aden calls over the radio; he takes up a position at the laundry room door, peeking down the hall. Three well-armed men round the far corner and start down the hall, rifles and pistols in hand. Aden lets them get about halfway down before aiming and putting two rounds into the chest of the front man, then ducking back as the body falls. As he expected, the two survivors open up on the whole hallway, bullets slamming into the door, the wall nearby, smashing the glass of a painting in the hallway. Val grabs up the fire extinguisher and uses it to smash out the safety glass on the window, wrestling to pull the metal screen lose. Nick pops out far enough to check on the shooters, who must be pretty good. They've taken cover at the corner, out of sight. They're probably warning their back-up teams that the targets are heading out over the roof.

Val scrambles out, then turns and reaches back in to grab Aden's arm, helping him through. They both scuttle across the aged tile rooftop, going as fast as they can given the slope and the bad conditions. It takes no time at all for the shooters to follow; Aden fires a few rounds at the window to keep them pinned down and prevent them from getting a clear shot at the two escaping agents. Ahead of him, Val makes it to the roof's edge, and peers down at the street. Another van has raced up from the side and slams to a halt below them. Two more shooters bail out of it, taking up positions behind the van and aiming up toward the only path down from the roof. Frustrated, Val ducks back and looks at him. "I always knew some day you would get me killed, you bastard," she sighs.

"Trust in Ave," Aden says, falling flat onto his stomach on the rooftop, minimizing his exposure. Two more rounds into the open window as he sees one of the shooters peek out; the man pulls his head back in quick among the sound of broken glass. In the distance, the faint sound of sirens is picking up.