Bok had reloaded with incendiary rounds. When his round hit the gas tank the Ford sedan exploded.
A small but still lethal chunk of the car came swirling at Robert. He tried to duck, but the metal caught him in the arm, slicing it open and knocking the gun out of his hand. Staggered, he grabbed his bloody limb and looked around desperately for Knox.
“Knox!”
There was no answer.
He looked across the way as the smoke started to lift. Through the flames eating at the car he saw Bok standing there, his gun pointed directly at him.
“Susan’s been shot. She’s in custody,” Robert called out.
Bok said nothing to this. He walked forward. He fired a round at Robert’s feet. And then another. Robert backed away holding his arm.
Bok walked forward. “Then I have nothing left to live for, do I?”
“That’s your choice,” said Robert.
“I have no idea how someone like you could be so, how do you say, fortunate,” said Bok. “Susan was far more talented. Far more dedicated. She cared far more than you ever would.”
“For the Russians.”
“I made her see the light. That was my job.”
“And her job was not to turn traitor. On that I’d say she failed spectacularly. And, by the way, we totally kicked her ass.”
“Your country has had its day. It’s time for new world leaders. The Stars and Stripes are done. She could see that clearly, even if the likes of you could not.”
“And you think Russia will fill that void?” said Robert incredulously. “You’ve got a shirtless leader, an economy totally based on fossil fuels, and a military that can’t even control its own nukes. Not a recipe for domination. More likely a rapid decline.”
Bok stopped a few feet from Robert and then looked to the side. “Tell her that,” he said, indicating something with his gun barrel.
Robert looked where he was pointing.
Knox lay in the grass under the trees, the side of her head bleeding. Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving.
Robert’s lip trembled. “You’re never going to make it out of here alive, Bok.”
Bok said nothing.
Robert said, “You can kill me too. But you just blew up your only way out of here.”
“As I said, it doesn’t matter to me anymore. Not with Susan gone. We were in love, you know.”
“I seriously doubt people as twisted as the two of you could possibly love anything.”
Bok raised his gun and pointed it at Robert’s head. “This is for Susan.”
From the corner of his eye Robert saw Knox slowly sit up, her gun in her hand. She fired. A shot hit Bok smack in the middle of the head. He dropped where he stood.
Robert looked back over his shoulder. Knox’s shot had sailed wide of its mark. The other shot had not.
John Puller was just lowering his sniper rifle. At this close range it was a devastating weapon against flesh, bone, and brains.
“And that was for my brother,” he said to the dead man.
Behind him came an EMT squad with medical equipment and a gurney. They raced past where Bok lay and over to Knox. Puller hustled over to his brother and examined his bloody arm.
“How bad?” he asked.
“Not bad. I’ll make it. Take care of Knox. She’s not good.”
Puller called one of the EMTs over. The man sat Robert down and started to treat his wound.
Puller sprinted over to where Knox lay back in the grass and knelt down next to her. Two EMTs had already started to triage her.
She looked up at Puller and said, “Did I get him? Did I get Bok?”
“You nailed the prick. He’s dead.”
She smiled weakly and touched her head. “Hurts like a bitch. Worse than my hip.”
“I know. These guys here are going to take care of that.”
“Am I going to make it?”
“There is no doubt that you will.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“I’ve never really lied to you, Knox.”
He opened the folder. “Since I can barely stand to breathe the same air as you, let’s get down to it.” He slid a document across to her.
She didn’t even look at it. “What is it?” she asked in an indifferent tone.
“A confession. A detailed confession not only to what you’ve done recently but to what you did to frame my brother. All you have to do is sign it.”
“And all you have to do is slide it in a shredder after you leave, because I’m signing nothing.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You sign the confession the death penalty goes off the table.”