Gunshots ring through the air again, blending with shouting and orders being barked in Russian.
The ambush has begun.
We soon reach the doorway to the main floor. Through my night vision goggles, I spot figures stumbling through the dark. Some are crouched behind the bar, one with a weapon raised at nothing.
I give the signal to open fire. Alexei takes aim, dropping a man by the DJ booth with a single, clean shot to center mass. I step through and acquire the pair behind the bar. The first is using his phone as a flashlight, the screen as bright as the sun, painting himself so bright a target that he might as well be wearing neon.
One round drops flashlight boy. The second behind the bar gathers his bearings enough to sense what directions the shots are coming from. He takes aim, but a quick pair of rounds from Alexei sends him down behind the bar and out of sight.
I spot Alexei’s team engaging on the other side of the room. Three of Kolya’s men are mowed down instantly as they attempt to gather a resistance.
It’s over in seconds. Nothing dramatic.
The main floor is clear. I scan, unable to spot Thea or Kolya.
“Clear!” I shout.
“Clear!” comes a response.
Then a pause.
“Got someone!”
Is it Thea?
I rush over to the second team’s point man. He stands next to a woman crouching behind one of the booths. She’s trembling, her hands over her head in a defensive gesture. I can tell by the shape that it’s not Thea.
“Gabriel?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She stands slowly, her knees shaking. I rush over to help her to her feet. She’s breathing hard, and I can spot a cut above her eyebrow, blood running down the left side of her face. One of my men has a red-filtered tactical light that paints her in shades of crimson.
She looks familiar.
“Where is she?”
“He took her.” She points toward the back of the club—past the booths, past the VIP rope, toward a section that’s barely visible in the weak, emergency lighting that’s beginning to flicker on in stuttering pulses. “When the lights went out, he grabbed her and dragged her back there with Sasha.”
Recognition flickers in my mind.
“You’re her friend from the auction,” I say. “You’re Sylvie.”
She nods. “I am. But Kolya has her.”
I’m already moving.
“Gabriel,” she calls after me. “He was going to kill her. He had the gun pointed at her when the lights went out. But as he was dragging her away, I heard him tell her he wants to kill her in front of you.”
I round the VIP rope, past a velvet curtain that’s been half torn off its rod. The emergency lights are cycling now, pulsing a dim, hellish red over the scene.
I hear footsteps behind me and glance over my shoulder to find Alexei close behind.
“You’re out of your mind if you think you’re doing this without backup,” he says.
I nod in response, turning my attention to what’s ahead of me.
The VIP section opens to a raised platform with private seating and a low table.