She spotted the threat too late. The Gesha left the holster, and [i]almost[/i] got in position to hit the legs of one of the bastards rushing her, but the 21-foot rule was king, and she had maybe six. A baton made of PVC pipe smacked her wrist, sending the pistol flying out of her hand. A similarly painful object held by the other guy smacked her in the gut, making her double over. Before she could recover, someone yanked off her backpack and a brick house fell on her back, or at least that’s what the knee between her shoulder blades felt like, and then the lights went out. She felt a hand reaching into her pocket to remove her phone and probably cancel the call. It happened so fast Hayden likely wouldn’t even notice someone tried to call. Or wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of similar treatment unbeknownst to Yekaterina. Resisting being moved worked for about two seconds before the attackers simply picked her up by shoulders and ankles and carried her into the van like an oversized garbage bag. She landed on something soft and probably Welsh. All she had left in that moment was impotent rage and Russian curses, and a length of duct tape quickly put an end to the latter as well.

Well that encounter went down about as well as a pint of brake fluid. Next time, no splitting the party, as if there would be a next time at all. Unless they saw the whole thing happen, the lads had no realistic way of tracking them, and if they had been that close, they’d probably have been shooting before either of them got loaded up. Trying to keep track of left and right hand turns soon proved a hopelessly confusing mess. At least they weren't being beaten during the ride and she couldn’t feel plastic sheets on the floor, but that was only a small comfort.

The ride came to an end, and they were led somewhere shady and colder with a hard floor. Not a basement, no stairs. A stone building? The duct tape and hood came off. The first things she recognized were the shapes of three other bound individuals. Crap. They were on their knees and with their wrists ziptied, not seated with their hands and feet duct taped to the chair. At least there was that, but considering that a victory clearly spelled how bad their situation was. She tried to reach the pocket where her phone should’ve been, but couldn’t reach far enough. One of the goons even had the presence of mind to pull her jacket down over her elbows before they led them out of the van, practically immobilizing her arms. Yekaterina tried looking around, but was poked in the ribs with the stick again and reminded to stop squirming and pay attention. “No meathooks, Hayden. Yet.” She informed the still-blinded Canadian.

Their captors’ conversation further muddled the waters. What was that about trusting them and taint? She was rapidly growing sick of this damn city. “You have pretty shitty PR, you know that?” She replied to Edgar’s questioning, the mix of fury, unease and confusion evident to the other three operatives from her native Russian sneaking into the way she pronounced English words. Before she’d say anything else, she chanced a glance at Sean and Beth, hoping to catch a look or some other attempt at communication, trying to figure out how much they should say.