After observing the final flight of Armstrong Space Station, Brad McLanahan and Jodie Cavendish had done more media interviews in Reno and San Francisco, then they flew the turbine P210 Silver Eagle back to San Luis Obispo. Night had already fallen. They had just pushed the plane into the hangar and were unloading their few pieces of luggage when Chris Wohl appeared at the hangar door. “You must be Sergeant Major Wohl,” Jodie said, extending a hand. After a moment Chris took it. “Brad has told me a lot about you.”
Chris shot a querying expression at Brad. “Yes, a lot,” Brad said.
“I’m sorry about your friends,” Chris said. “I’m glad you made it back, Brad. Had enough of space travel for a while?”
“For now,” Brad admitted. “But I am going back. Most definitely.”
“Done with all the media stuff too for a while?”
“Definitely no more,” Jodie said. “I can’t wait for our lives to go back to normal. Crikey, I can’t even remember what normal is.”
“You need anything, either of you?” Chris asked. “The team will be back in the morning. When you feel up to it, you can start training.”
“He’s right back to his usual routines,” Jodie said. “I might join him from now on.”
“That would be fine,” Chris said. “Ready to go back to the apartment?”
“We’ll unload, and then I’ll close it up,” Brad said. “I’ll wipe it down tomorrow.”
“I’ll drive with you back to Poly Canyon, and then I’m going to the hotel,” Chris said. “I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll update your call sign then, I think.” He gave Brad and Jodie a half smile, which was a big one by Wohl’s standards, and then he put his hands in his pockets against the growing chill, turned on a heel, and . . .
. . . walked right into the knife held by Yvette Korchkov, which plunged deep into his belly. He had enough strength and wherewithal to head-butt his assailant before falling to the tarmac, clutching his abdomen.
“Grebanyy ublyudok,” Korchkov swore, holding her bleeding forehead. “F*cking bastard.” Brad pushed Jodie behind him. “We meet again, Mr. McLanahan. Thank you so much for informing the world where you will be. It was child’s play to track you down.”
Brad pulled Jodie to the back of the hangar, then went over to a toolbox and found a Crescent wrench. “Call 911,” he told her. To Korchkov he said, “Sv?rd, or whatever the hell your name is, if you don’t want to get caught, you’d better leave. This place has security cameras, and Wohl’s troops will be here any minute.”
“I know where all of the sergeant major’s associates are, Brad,” Korchkov said. “They are hours away, and I will be gone long before the police arrive. But my mission will be completed.”
“What mission? Why are you after me?”
“Because your father made a terrible enemy in Gennadiy Gryzlov,” Korchkov said. “He ordered all of your father’s possessions to be destroyed, and you are at the top of the list. And I must say, after the destruction you caused near Moscow last week, he will have an even greater burning desire to see you dead.”
“The police are on their way,” Jodie called out.
“They will be too late,” Korchkov said.
“Well, then, come and get me, bitch,” Brad said, waving her on. “You like doing it up close and personal? Then give me a hug, bitch.”
Korchkov moved like a cheetah despite the wound on her forehead, and Brad was far too late. He partially deflected the knife with the wrench, but the blade sliced across the left side of his neck. Jodie screamed when she saw the rivulet of blood forming between Brad’s fingers as he tried to stop the flow. The wrench dropped from his hand as the room started to spin.
Korchkov smiled. “Here I am, handsome space traveler,” she said. “Where is your tough talk now? You are perhaps a little weak from your space travels, no?” She raised the knife so Brad could see it. “Give me a good-bye hug.”
“Here’s your hug, bitch,” a voice behind her said, and Chris Wohl broke a push-broom across Korchkov’s head. She whirled and was about to knife him again, but Chris dropped to the floor and was still.
“Finish bleeding and die, old man,” Korchkov said.
“That’s not an old man—he’s a sergeant major,” Brad said, just before the Crescent wrench crunched on the back of Korchkov’s head. She went down. Brad brought the wrench down hard against the hand holding the knife, pushed the blade away, then continued to beat her face with the wrench until he couldn’t recognize it anymore. He collapsed on top of the battered body as Jodie ran up to him, rolling him away from Korchkov and pressing her fingers against the gash on his neck.