Free Dana Marton by 72 Hours (html) Page B

“This way,” he said and they followed without another word.
     
    This hallway was not decorated with paintings and even the light fixtures were utilitarian, a stark contrast to the antique chandeliers of the main areas of the embassy. He glanced at the row of doors on each side. Maybe these were the back offices where visitors weren’t allowed. He tried a door. Locked. Not that he wanted to go in there, but he wanted to make sure nobody would be coming out and getting behind him.

    Then, at the next door, he heard a small noise and he froze with his hand on the doorknob. He motioned for Kate to stay back and stay down with the children. Since the embassy was furnished mostly with antiques and had kept the old style, he wished they had kept the antique hardware, too, with keyholes instead of security locks. That way he could have taken a look. Going into a situation he knew nothing about was dangerous, but he had no other choice. If there were rebels in there, he had to neutralize them.
     
    Kate was holding the rifle in front of her. The girls were crouched behind her, peeking over the side, watching him, wide-eyed. He’d better not make a false move. Whatever waited for him behind the door he would deal with it. Whoever was in there and however many of them there were, he would not allow them to reach Kate and the kids.

    He tried the knob silently and wasn’t too surprised when it gave. He opened the door a millimeter. He was ready to shoot at anything that moved, but nothing did. A dozen bodies covered the floor. They weren’t wearing the camouflage militia outfits of the rebels, but the official Russian dress uniforms. The embassy security force, all dead and piled on top of each.
     
    He stepped in carefully but stuck a hand back out the door to signal to Kate to stay where she was with the girls. They didn’t need to see this. He spotted a man in civilian dress, too, with a different style of military haircut and typical Midwest good looks, ruined only by the hole in his head. He figured him for Kate’s bodyguard. The muscles tightened in his face. He stepped farther inside and grabbed as many guns and gas masks as he could for the hostages, then drew back in surprise when one of the men he touched groaned. Parker had his gun aimed at the guy’s head the next second.

    “Help,” the man begged in Russian, his unfocused eyes fluttering open.
     
    He had blood on his face, but Parker couldn’t see an open wound. The guy had plenty of blood soaking his pant leg, too.

    “Can you stand?” Parker asked and held his left hand out, keeping the gun handy in the right.
     
    The man rubbed the back of his head. “Give me a second. I got knocked out.” But he was scrambling to his feet anyway. He looked at the carnage around him, his eyes and the set of his mouth hardening.

    “What happened?” Parker asked.

    “I don’t know. I was at the back gate. We got ambushed.” Anger seethed in his words. “They must have thought I was dead and brought me here.” He pressed a hand to his leg and limped over a body, stared at the carnage. “They killed everyone.”

    The man eyed Parker’s uniform warily. “You’re not one of them. Alpha troops?” he asked with suspicion. “Did they take the building back?” He seemed angry at the thought. Probably because he had missed the action. Protecting the embassy was his duty, and here he’d lain the whole time, out cold.

    “I’m a friend of the ambassador. I was here for dinner. The Alpha troops are on the roof, negotiating.”

    The man looked him over, glancing at the rifles slung over his shoulders. “I’m Ivan. Let’s do what we can from in here.” He reached for a rifle.
     
    Parker pretended that he didn’t see the move as he kept surveying the room.

    “Can’t take offense, I suppose,” Ivan said good-naturedly, seeming to marginally relax at last. “I don’t trust you, either.”

    Parker kept an eye on the guy as he turned to leave, switching to