Drake Sisters 03 - Oceans of Fire

shift of the wind. Aleksandr kept his glasses trained on the four men lying in the sand, but none of them moved at all. Four shots. Four kills.
    Aleksandr could hear Jonas swearing a blue streak. “What the hell am I going to do with this mess now?
    Damn it.” He raised his voice. “Damn it! You just can’t do that kind of thing in the United States! I would have arrested the bastards. They’ve got the evidence on them. Now if I find anything to connect you with these kills, I’m going to have to charge your ass with murder.”
    Silence met the outburst. Jonas didn’t move. He stayed away from the light, obviously waiting for a signal from Jackson. It was a long time coming. The deputy had to work his way around to the finger of rocks where the shots had come from. It occurred to Aleksandr that while they waited to ensure they were in the clear, they were giving Prakenskii time to get away. He had to make his way through the brush in silence, avoiding Jackson, avoiding leaving a trail, and make his getaway.
    There would be no evidence. There was never evidence of Prakenskii‘s passing. Just the dead bodies left behind. Aleksandr was certain the shooter was the Russian, but he would be long gone and impossible to find. Even if Jonas got lucky and got his hands on the man, there would never be proof.
    They wouldn’t find the rifle. It was probably already in the sea. There would be no residue, no sign of him. That was Prakenskii. The phantom, more legend than real.
    The owl hooted. Once. Twice. Three times.
    Jonas swore again. “Jackson can’t find him. We have no idea if he’s around so I’ll go out and examine the bodies for signs of life. You stay out of sight and shoot the son of a bitch if he kills me.”
    The wind rushed in off the sea. Aleksandr felt the light touch of reassurance. “He’s long gone.” How the Drake sisters knew and could convey the information to him, he wasn’t entirely certain, but he knew Prakenskii had melted away into the night.
    Jonas came out of the brush cautiously. “You’d think one of the Drakes would be able to track him if he’s really like they are. They always seem to know when there’s trouble with each other.” He made his way down to the first body. “I’d say he was dead. He shot him in the left eye. Each kill was made that way. This guy’s good.”
    He raised his voice. “Jackson, we’ll need to work the crime scene. You have a camera on you? We’ll have to do it from a distance. I don’t want to go anywhere near that bomb.”
    “In the car. Gloves too.” Jackson was still above them. “There’s no sign at all, Jonas. He’s a ghost.”
    “What was he using?”
    Aleksandr answered. “A Russian sniper rifle. Probably a VSS Vintorez SP-6 with a built-in silencer and subsonic cartridges. It was designed for special ops. The newer bullets can defeat most military-issue body armor, depending on the distance.”
    “That would be my guess as well,” Jackson agreed.
    “Is that what Prakenskii favors?” Jonas demanded. “This is going to be a damned headache to sort out.
    He should have left it the hell alone. We had it under control.”

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    “Prakenskii doesn’t favor any one weapon. And you have absolutely nothing on him and you won’t either. If you haul him in to interrogate him, he’ll have an ironclad alibi and it won’t be with someone you don’t trust. It will be someone like Aunt Carol. He probably plants the suggestion they’ve been together the entire time and the person will believe they have been.” Aleksandr pushed himself into a sitting position, the gun still ready in his hands. “No wonder there are so many rumors about him.”
    “Before we do anything else, let’s get a call in to the bomb squad and the FBI,” Jonas said. He skirted driftwood and dead bodies to reach the fourth man, where he crouched down, taking care not to disturb the scene or get too close to the bomb. “We can let them handle it. I plan on having children someday.
    Radiation poisoning isn’t my idea of fun.”
    Jonas glanced in Aleksandr’s direction. “Do you recognize any of these men?”
    “The three with the AKs worked for Nikitin. They were sitting at his table at the Caspar Inn. The fourth man, and I’m guessing here, is likely to belong to whatever terrorist group wanted the bomb brought in.
    He’s the deliveryman. They were going to kill Kingman all