Ral dropped to the floor as bullets tore through the darkness above him, the laptop crashing down beside him with screen still glowing faintly. The basement had transformed into kill zone with at least three distinct groups firing—the criminals who had kidnapped him, FBI teams breaching from above, and a third unknown force assaulting from directions that suggested they had been positioned and waiting."Secure the analyst!" someone shouted in accented English that was neither American nor Russian. "The files are secondary priority. We need Anderson alive."A hand grabbed Ral's collar, dragging him toward what he hoped was cover but could equally be execution position. He twisted violently, his elbow connecting with something that felt like body armor. His captor grunted but maintained grip, pulling Ral behind overturned table that provided minimal protection from the crossfire."Stop fighting," the voice commanded, now close enough that Ral recognized the accent as Eastern European, p

Katarina spread surveillance photographs across the parking garage's concrete floor, each image documenting Kozlov's movements over three years with obsessive precision. Safe houses in Brighton Beach, offshore accounts in Cyprus, contact meetings with Russian diplomats who officially did not exist."He has three extraction routes programmed," Katarina explained, circling locations on a tactical map. "Primary is private airfield in New Jersey. Secondary is yacht docked in Connecticut. Tertiary is underground railroad he built through abandoned subway tunnels connecting to Canadian smuggling routes.""You cannot cover all three simultaneously," Elena observed, her FSB training assessing the operational impossibility. "Even with support teams, he escapes through whichever route you do not monitor.""I am not covering all three," Katarina replied. "I am making him choose the route I want by eliminating the others as viable options. Force him into predetermined kill zone where variables fa

Ral crouched behind ventilation unit on the rooftop across from Kozlov's command center, watching Katarina position the assault teams with hand signals that seemed choreographed through years of practice she should not have possessed. The old FSB operatives moved with surprising efficiency despite their age, muscle memory overriding arthritis and diminished stamina."Thermal imaging shows eighteen hostiles on third floor," Elena reported from her position monitoring electronic surveillance through equipment that Marcus had somehow procured. "Command center is there. Kozlov's heat signature matches profile from earlier encounters—he is present and stationary, likely coordinating his strikes."Thirty-seven minutes remained before professional killers reached their targets across three continents. Louis in Brooklyn. Chen in Washington. Marcus in New Zealand. Rebecca coordinating International Criminal Court testimony from The Hague. Two dozen witnesses scattered across fourteen cities, a

Federal detention cells were designed for psychological efficiency rather than comfort—stark white walls, fluorescent lighting that never dimmed, temperature maintained at precisely uncomfortable levels. Ral sat on the concrete bench for seven hours before Chen finally appeared with folders thick enough to suggest either comprehensive evidence or theatrical intimidation."Your lawyer arrived two hours ago but was denied access pending national security clearance," Chen stated, settling into the metal chair across from him. "Turns out assaulting foreign nationals on American soil while possessing classified intelligence creates jurisdictional complications.""Where is my family?" Ral demanded, bypassing procedural niceties. "Are Louis and Maya still protected or did FBI decide they were expendable once you arrested me?""Protected and relocated to secure facility," Chen confirmed. "Louis is demanding to see you. Maya thinks this is extended business trip. We are maintaining cover story

The compound was located three hours past the Canadian border in wilderness that most maps labeled as provincial forest but which actually belonged to private trust that asked no questions and answered to no government. Nadia navigated unmarked roads with confidence that suggested frequent travel, finally stopping at gate guarded by two men with military bearing and weapons that were definitely not for hunting wildlife."This is the Miller family," Nadia announced through the driver's window. "Katarina's package. Expected and approved."The guards verified something on tablet before opening the gate manually—no electronic systems that could be hacked or traced. The SUV proceeded down gravel road toward cluster of buildings that looked like hunting lodge from external appearance but revealed itself as fortified compound upon closer inspection."Welcome to the place without name," Nadia stated as they parked. "Eighteen families currently in residence, all fleeing situations where offici