She crossed to where the trucks were parked and stopped beside a panel van that looked like it had been the losingest vehicle in several demolition derbies. After a brief glance at its tires, she tried the doors and, finding them locked, edged to the building’s pedestrian entrance to the side of the loading dock.
That knob was also locked. She pressed her ear against it, ignoring the rain splattering on her face, and listened intently for half a minute. Hearing nothing, she moved to a dumpster and lifted the top, using her penlight for illumination. She spotted a length of rusty wire, reached in to grab it, and pulled it loose before setting the lid quietly back in place and moving to the van. After quickly making a few bends in the wire, she slid one end into the passenger-side lock and the other beneath it, feeling for the tumblers.
The door opened with a pop. Jet tossed the makeshift lock pick aside and leaned over to the steering wheel. After another glance outside, she flipped on her light again and studied the snarl of wire alongside the steering column till she spied what she was looking for.
After several coughs, the engine rumbled to life and she sat up. The fuel gauge sat at a little over half full, which would get them a decent distance at low speed. She turned and looked in the rear of the van and smiled at the sight of a bundle of uniforms. She’d broken into a delivery van, and evidently it had been laundry day.
She returned to the Volga a few moments later clad in one of the dark blue uniforms. The pants were too large and the top baggy, but the ensemble was nevertheless a marked improvement over prison clothes. The Ukrainians gaped at her in amazement, and she allowed a half smile.
“Van’s full of outfits. Get out of your convict clothes, and let’s get on the road. Yulia, I’ll follow you. Turn your headlights on and off when the engine looks like it’s going to blow and find someplace secluded to abandon the car – someplace it won’t be noticed for a few days, ideally.”
The men climbed from the backseat and hurried to the van, its exhaust steaming in the drizzle. Yulia watched them go and nodded to Jet. “I knew it was a good idea to break you out.”
“We’re still a long way from free.”
“True, but with you, our odds have improved dramatically.”
“Problem is we can only do so much on our own. We’re going to need some help. After we ditch the car, let’s make it a priority to locate a phone and find out what happened to your people.” Jet paused. “Because if we have to go it alone, we’re screwed. It’s a lot of ground to cover.” She wiped her face. “Eventually our luck’s going to run out.”
Yulia nodded. “I’m sorry about Mikhail. He can be a pain sometimes, but he has a good heart. And he’s brave under fire. That counts for a lot.”
“I don’t take it personally. We have bigger battles to fight.”
“Agreed.”
“Give me a minute and then let’s get out of here,” Jet said. She spun and ran back to the van. The men were all outfitted in uniforms now, Evgeny’s comically short sleeves and pants providing amusement for the rest.
“What do you want us to do with our jail things?” Taras asked.
“I’d say burn them, but they’re too wet. We’ll leave them wherever we ditch the car. They’ll already know we stole it, so it won’t provide any new information.”
“It could give them an idea of the direction we’re going.”
“True, but Russia’s a big country, and we’ve got a significant head start. At some point they’ll realize that we’re making for the border. But if we do this right, we should be able to stay ahead of them. At least long enough to get some help from Yulia’s contact.”
“Who so far would have had us standing by the side of the road with our thumbs up our asses,” Evgeny griped.
Vlad elbowed him. “Got us out, didn’t he?”
“Only half the job. What good is it if we’re caught a kilometer away?” Evgeny fired back.
Jet fastened her seat belt and inclined her head at the Volga’s flashing brake lights. “Nobody’s caught us yet, and if we’re smart, nobody will. Now hang on. I like to drive fast.”
“In this rust bucket?”
That drew a much-needed laugh, and the tension dissipated as she pulled away from the building and accelerated after Yulia, wishing she felt anywhere near as confident as she was pretending for the men’s benefit. The truth was that their chances of making it were dismal, and if they were smart, they’d split up and go it separately. None of which she said, preferring to keep her glum observations to herself, mentally reciting the phone number of a faraway bed-and-breakfast in the Romanian hills, where she hoped more than anything Matt would be waiting, safe, with her daughter.
Chapter 34
Verkhnee Turovo, Russia