“Gee, Lance, they didn’t have little pictures of soldiers on the schematics.”

“There’s no need for sarcasm.”

He grabbed the handle and very slowly pulled the door open an inch. He smelled cigarette smoke and opened the door the rest of the way in a single motion. Before it was fully open, he’d fired two bullets and two more guards were dead.

There were two more men in the room and Lance rushed in before they could get any shots fired. He tackled the first around the waist, knocking him back against a table and smashing a Bohemian crystal vase on the floor. The second pulled his sidearm and was about to fire when Laurel put a bullet in the back of his head.

Lance turned to the soldier he’d tackled.

“Don’t make a sound,” he said in Russian.

The guard nodded.

“Where’s Davidov?”

The guard looked like he was going to answer, but then reached for a knife in a holster at his waist. Lance put his forearm on the man’s neck and pressed down, crushing it.

“Ugh,” Laurel said.

“I bet someone heard that vase,” Lance said.

She nodded. Across the anteroom was another set of doors and they burst through them.

They were presented with the sight of a frail old man in his seventies, five foot tall at most, with a face that looked like it had been through a meat grinder. He waved an ornately decorated cane at them, a silver blade on its end.

Lance grabbed the cane and pulled it from the man’s hand.

“What is the meaning of this?” the man yelled.

“Remember me?” Laurel said. “Or would it help if I were in a little cage.”

The man’s eyes widened.

"You two know each other?” Lance said.

“We met at the airport,” Laurel said.

“You looked better on your knees,” Davidov spat.

Lance and Laurel had their guns trained on him, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed by the fact.

“Woof, woof,” Davidov said, taunting Laurel.

Lance stepped forward and smacked him across the face. The old man flew sideways and hit the wall.

“Lance,” Laurel gasped.

Lance looked at her then back at Davidov. “You say another word to her, I’ll rip your heart out of your chest, old man. I swear to God.”

Davidov stared at him. “Don’t tell me you’re still sore over what happened last time.”

“I mean it, Davidov. You shut the fuck up or I’ll make you beg for mercy. I’ll pluck your eyeballs out of your skull and feed them to you.”

“Lance,” Laurel said again. “He’s stalling for time.”

“She’s right,” Davidov said, grinning. “But really, you’re already too late.”

“What does that mean?”

“Did you really think I’d be stupid enough to just wait here for you?”