Rules of Vengeance

Royale took the bomb in his hands.

“Well,” she continued, “what is it? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Royale shook the square package, then ran a fingernail over the LED. “It appears to be a timer of some kind.”

“Look underneath it,” Emma said-a command, not a request. “There are some curious markings.”

Intrigued, Royale lifted the package high and examined it. “I don’t see anything.”

“Look closer. You can’t miss it.”

“No… there’s nothing-”

Emma struck his jaw with her flattened palm, stepping up and into the blow, so that it crushed his molars and rendered him immediately unconscious. She caught him as he fell and lowered him to the ground.

Just then the two-way pager on his belt cackled. “M. Royale, we have an urgent call from the National Police. Please contact me immediately. A Code Nine emergency.”

A moment later a siren sounded inside the warehouse. Red strobe lights positioned at every exit flashed at two-second intervals.

Emma paid no attention to the commotion. Kneeling, she removed Royale’s key card from a retractable lanyard. Then she scooped up the explosives, placed them in her purse, and ran for the closest exit.

73

Graves shook Sergei Shvets by the collar. “What the devil do you have pla

“He’s wounded,” said Ford. “Go easy.”

“I’ll go easy after he talks.” Graves yanked Shvets’s shirt so hard that the Russian bounded off the couch. “Where is she? Where’s Emma Ransom?”

Shvets grimaced. “You’re too late,” he whispered. “It’s done.”

“Too late for what?” demanded Graves.

“Go to hell,” said the Russian.

“Oh, I will. I’m sure of that. But I’m going to do my best to make sure you get there before me.” Graves balled his fist and ground it hard against the wound in Shvets’s gut. “Where-is-Emma-Ransom?”

Shvets’s eyes bulged, and a moan escaped his clenched teeth.

“Enough!” Kate Ford grabbed Graves from behind and forcibly separated him from Shvets. “Leave him.”

Graves shook her off, and took a step back toward Shvets before thinking better of it. “They’ll have your head on a pike looking over Red Square, tovarich, before I’m done with you.”

Shvets didn’t answer. He sat hunched over his stomach, sucking down great drafts of air.

“Get him out of here,” said Graves, delivering a last glancing blow to the top of the Russian’s head. “And make sure you don’t leave his side. I want guards at his door, even when he’s in the operating theater. Do you understand me?”

A team of medical technicians lifted Shvets onto a gurney and wheeled him out. No fewer than six Black Panthers accompanied the director of the Russian FSB to the ground floor and all the way to the hospital.

“ La Reine,” said Jonathan.

Graves looked over to where Ransom stood in the corner, held in an armlock by a policeman.

“What did you say?” asked Graves, who was wiping his brow with a handkerchief, barely listening.

“ La Reine. That ’s what Emma’s going to try to blow up.”

Graves shot an impatient glance at Ford. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “ La Reine is France’s newest nuclear power facility. It’s on the Normandy coast, near a town called Flamanville.”

“Let him go,” said Graves with a casual wave.

The police officer released Ransom.

“There’s going to be some kind of bomb,” said Jonathan. “I read about it on a laptop I found at Shvets’s house in Èze. It’s supposed to happen today.”

Graves gave Ford a look. “You see that laptop?”

“No.”

“It was in the car,” said Jonathan.

“Sure it was.” Graves eyed him with skepticism. “And why should we believe you?” he asked, crossing the room toward the American.

“Give it a rest,” said Jonathan. “Can’t you see we’re on the same side? I want to stop Emma as badly as you do.”

Graves halted a foot away from Jonathan. “All I see is a fugitive from British justice wanted for the car bombing of Igor Ivanov’s motorcade, as well as for the murders of a doctor in Notting Hill and a yet-to-be-identified corpse burned beyond recognition currently resting in a Monaco morgue. That’s what I see.”

Jonathan appealed to Ford. “She’s going to plant a bomb inside the reactor somewhere.”

“And just how is she getting in?” broke in Graves.

“She’s pretending to be someone named A

“Go on,” said Ford, in a less hostile ma

“All the material was written in Russian,” explained Ransom. “Most of it went over my head. But I remember a few things. Emma’s supposed to pick up something in the northeast corner of something called W-4. Maybe if I could talk to the engineers or the plant manager, I could figure out more of it.”

“Not a chance,” said Graves. “Your merry flight from justice is officially terminated. From here, you’ll be transported directly to one of France’s darkest and most secure jailhouses. And there you’ll remain until we file all proper diplomatic papers in triplicate and see to it that your extradition to England goes off without a hitch.”

“Don’t be a fool,” said Jonathan. “I can help.”

“And you, sir, are a liar, and as far as I can tell, an agent with extensive training and experience in the employ of a foreign government to be determined at a later date. This nonsense about being a simple doctor stops now.”

“No,” said Kate Ford. “He has to come.”

Graves shot her a whiplash glance. “You’re not serious?”

But Ford kept her eyes locked on Ransom. “Call the plant,” she said. “See if anyone named A

Graves hesitated.

“Do it, Charles.”

Graves first consulted with the captain of the Paris gendarmerie, who gave his blessing and provided the plant’s emergency phone number. It took another five minutes to be put in touch with the plant manager and five minutes more to explain in his perfect schoolboy’s French who he was and why he was calling.

“She’s there,” said Graves, lowering the phone to his side. “She arrived at shift change. Security checked her out. She passed with flying colors. Even the palm print.”

“God,” said Kate Ford. “This is it.”

Graves put the phone back to his ear. “Do you know where she is right now?” he inquired in French. And then his face fell. “She’s inside the main complex somewhere. There are fifteen buildings. She has an all-access pass card.”

Kate turned to the French police captain. “How far to Flamanville?”

“Three hundred kilometers. One of my choppers can have you there in fifty minutes.”

“Please get it here as quickly as possible,” she said, before turning toward Jonathan. “Dr. Ransom, you’re coming with us.”

“Lock down the plant,” said Graves. “We’ll get them a photo and description of Emma Ransom within the next five minutes. And tell your people that she’s armed and dangerous, and that she’s most likely carrying high explosives. Don’t take any chances. Shoot to kill.”

Jonathan clutched the safety webbing as the Aérospatiale helicopter dipped its nose and plummeted toward the Normandy coast. Staring out the window, he had a clear view of the La Reine nuclear complex. To the casual eye, the area appeared calm, as if nothing were out of the ordinary, and purposely so. It was paramount that no word of the threat leaked to the general public. The mildest panic would have long-lasting consequences. Only after looking closely did he spot the unmarked cars blocking the entry road, and the armored perso