Drake Sisters 03 - Oceans of Fire

rolled out onto the grass.
    Aleksandr scooted over into position. Jonas kept the vehicle at a slow pace as they drove up the winding, narrow dirt road. Even so, Aleksandr hit the ground hard, the breath slamming out of him, his body jarred as he rolled into deeper grass. He lay a moment trying to catch his breath and assess his body for any damage. When he was certain there were no broken bones, he began to crawl through the vegetation toward the old rickety barn.
    Jonas and Jackson had given him detailed information of the terrain and he knew there were several large areas that had once been garden beds. The weeds and wildflowers were thicker in those spots and he made his way to the first of them as quickly as possible. When he was certain he was well covered, he paused to get his bearings straight and listen to the night sounds.
    The moon spilled light across the meadow. Several deer grazed a hundred yards to his left. Crickets sang to one another and frogs called out in a steady symphony. He had to move carefully not to spook the insects. The lack of sound was a dead giveaway to any accomplished sniper. He was very aware that Jackson Deveau was moving to higher ground and there wasn’t a single change in the night noises. That told him more than anything else he needed to know about the deputy.
    Aleksandr listened for sounds coming from the barn, but there were none. He moved a few inches at a time over the uneven ground, gaining feet, then yards. He knew Jonas had intended to park the car at the entrance to the dirt road, back behind some trees, and would hoof it in from the other direction.
    An owl hooted once, the sound carrying easily and naturally across the meadow. Jackson had found high enough ground to cover them and had signaled an all clear. Aleksandr felt some of the tension ease out of his body. There were more eyes and ears in the night than his own. His brain told him Prakenskii was long gone, that he’d never stay in the area once Sylvia was gone, but still, the man had to know Aleksandr would take the bait. How could he not? How could he leave Mason Fredrickson to be killed without at least trying to save him?
    Nothing about the entire setup made any sense to him and Aleksandr was a man who preferred logic.
    He was familiar with treachery and deceit. It never surprised him, but there had to be logic, even if it was twisted. Prakenskii was too well trained to make such an error, unless he was banking on the fact that Aleksandr preferred to work alone. It might not occur to him that Aleksandr would hook up with the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    local sheriff.
    Aleksandr dug his elbows in the dirt and scooted closer to the barn. The building rose up in the night, boards old and cracked, paint chipped and peeling. The entire barn tilted as if it would slide to the ground on one side any moment. There was a rustling in the bushes close to the barn. Aleksandr froze, his breath catching in his lungs. A spot between his shoulder blades itched. He eased a knife out of his belt and waited.
    The owl screeched out frustration and rage at missing prey. Aleksandr allowed his breath to leave his lungs slowly at the warning, careful not to make a single sound. Jackson was amazing with his bird cries, so close to the real thing, it had taken a moment to figure out that it hadn’t been an owl. He waited, motionless, listening for another telltale rustle or whisper of movement.
    A frog croaked somewhere to his left and almost immediately he heard a noise, the brush of something against wood inside the barn. Aleksandr levered himself another foot forward through the grass on his belly like a lizard. He was a big man and it wasn’t easy to move without sound. He lay motionless again, sweating, waiting for the bite of a bullet in his back.
    A frog croaked again, much closer this time. His tension eased a little more when he realized Jonas was approaching from the opposite side of the barn. He rolled toward the entrance. There was no door, just a burlap sack tacked over the gaping hole where it should have been. Moonlight spilled through the cracks in the ceiling, but left far too many shadows where someone could hide. There was that rustling again, this time sounding a little more frantic. Something large bumped against the back wall of the barn.
    There was a muffled swearing. Aleksandr didn’t have animal noises to make to warn Jonas, so he had to hope the man was