“Most people have never seen one, so it won’t register, at least until it’s too late for them. They’ll just see two women soaking wet. All we need to do is get close enough so I can take them out. That won’t be hard. Although truthfully, it’ll be easier if it’s just me. They’d never suspect a threat from a lone female.”
“What do you want me to do, then?” Yulia asked.
“Watch, and once I disable them, come in and help me.”
Yulia looked to Taras, who shrugged. She nodded at Jet. “Okay.”
Jet ran her fingers through her sopping hair, brushing it straight back, and then rose from her crouched position at the corner of the building and jogged through the rain to the glass door.
The attendants looked up in surprise at the ringing of the small bell over the door, just in time to see Jet enter, dripping wet, wiping the water from her face with the back of her arm. A bouncy tune trilled from a radio on a shelf behind the counter, drowned out occasionally by the roar of the crowd on the televised soccer match they were watching. One of the men rose from his seat as she made her way toward them, a puzzled smile in place.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“My car broke down on the road back there,” she said, closing the distance as she spoke.
“Yeah? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. It just died. Could I use your phone, or maybe get a ride so one of you can look at it? I don’t know anything about cars…”
The standing man backed away, his expression revealing that he’d recognized Jet’s prison garb. His hand slid to the small of his back, but Jet was already a blur of motion, her right leg pivoting as she delivered a powerful blow to his midsection with her left foot. The second attendant fell backward in surprise, and his chair collapsed as his partner fell against him. Jet followed with a strategically targeted strike at the falling man’s neck for good measure.
He hit the floor with a grunt and she leaned over him, never taking her eyes off the second attendant. She retrieved the small semiautomatic pistol from the downed man’s waistband and checked the magazine and chamber before pointing it at the pair.
“All right. Cooperate and you’ll live. The black car parked outside. Which one of you has the keys?”
The unharmed attendant freed himself and rolled away from his groaning companion. “You’re robbing us?”
“That’s choice A. Choice B is robbing and killing you. Which one depends on whether you cooperate,” she said, her voice flat.
Judging by his expression, the man obviously believed her.
The front door swung open, and Yulia and Taras entered. “Search them,” Jet said. “Keys, money, weapons. Anything we can use.”
Yulia moved to the first attendant and Taras crouched by the second as Jet kept the pistol trained on the men. When they finished searching the Russians, they’d found a small quantity of rubles, a pocketknife, a pack of cheap cigarettes, and two key rings – but neither with a car key on it. Jet glanced at the paltry collection and her eyes narrowed to slits.
“Last chance,” she said softly to the Russians. “Where are the keys to that car?”
“There,” the second attendant said, pointing at a board mounted to the wall. “It’s a repair job.”
“Does it have gas?”
The attendants exchanged a puzzled look. The one who’d pointed nodded. “I…I think so.”
Jet tilted her head to Yulia. “Take them in the back and tie them up. Gag them so they can’t make any noise. You know how to tie a secure knot?”
Yulia frowned. “Of course.”
Jet walked to the board and removed the only key from a hook. “What time does this dump close for the night?”
“In…about an hour.”
“Give me your watch,” Jet ordered, and the man obeyed.
“It’s a cheap piece of junk. Worth nothing,” he said as he tossed it to her.
“Then you won’t miss it.”
Jet walked to the door and flipped the outside lights off, leaving only the one in the market illuminated. Yulia and Taras stood aside as the uninjured attendant helped his partner to his feet, and they followed the pair back into the garage area. Yulia bound them together with a length of greasy nylon cord, and Taras fashioned gags from rags and a roll of heavy tape.
Jet inspected their work and pocketed the gun. “Let’s take whatever food and drink we can comfortably carry and get going. If we head west, we should be well away from Moscow by the time the police catch on.” She’d suggested planting the false idea of driving west so when the attendants were questioned, they gave the police information that would throw them off the scent.
“You think we can make it to Smolensk by dawn?” Yulia asked.
“Let’s hope so.”
They cleaned out the cash register and filled a sack with snack food and beverages while Jet snagged a yellow rubber rain slicker and a worn black windbreaker from a rack in the corner. She donned the slicker and handed Yulia the jacket. Yulia felt in the pocket and retrieved a cell phone with a look of triumph. “This could come in handy,” she said.