Goliath

A great skua banked over and looked down at the snow-covered island she called home. Below, she could see a small group of humans standing together behind the burned-out remains of a wooden building. Suddenly, the air seemed to come alive with noisy vibrations. The large seabird saw a golden object approaching, appearing as if from thin air, racing toward her home. Deciding for the moment that the island was getting far too crowded, with a loud screech, the bird turned and headed back out to sea where it was a lot safer and quieter.

  Flying over the white caps of the dark gray waves, the helicopter pilot quickly checked his dash-mounted GPS to ensure that he was in the right spot. When he saw the flat, icy ground below him, the pilot smoothly brought his helicopter into land. Beside him in the co-pilot’s seat was a dangerous-looking man, dressed in the distinctive blue uniform of Romanov’s personal security detail.

  “We’re in the right spot, so where the hell are they?” asked the pilot, looking through the glass windshield at the devastation and bodies strewn throughout the camp. With his hand on the joystick, the man was about to radio back to the Imperator when, as if on cue, two people emerged from behind the nearest building and began running toward the helicopter. The pilot could see two men carrying a woman in a blanket as they ran for the helicopter. The man recognized Alexandra Romanov’s coveralls, but now they seemed bathed in blood.

  “Get out and help them in,” ordered the pilot to the security man. Panic filled his voice. Their employer would go berserk if they failed to help his daughter. The consequences would be too horrible to imagine.

  The security guard opened his door and then stepped out. Hunched over to avoid the rapidly spinning rotor blades, the guard turned and opened the side door of the helicopter, sliding it open to receive Alexandra. The people were only meters away when the guard realized something was amiss. He did not recognize either of the men carrying Alexandra Romanov. He assumed they were all that was left of Chang’s mercenaries, and the guard stepped forward to help with Alexandra, when the lead man let go of Alexandra’s feet, brought a pistol up, and pulled the trigger. A single bullet tore through the guard’s chest, sending his body flying back into the open helicopter door.

  Mitchell did not even wait for the guard to fall, before sprinting around the front of the helicopter, his pistol aimed directly at the pilot. With a look of stunned disbelief on his face, the pilot slowly raised his hands in surrender. From behind him, a voice spoke in Russian. “I’ll take the controls now, please.” The pilot looked over his shoulder into the rough-looking face of Yuri, as a pistol slammed into his temple.

  Ten minutes later, with everyone loaded, Mitchell stepped away from the helicopter. Standing there were Jen, Cardinal, Fahimah, Colonel Santiago, and several soldiers guarding the miserable-looking chopper pilot. Mitchell stopped in front of Jen, her face masking her feelings.

  “I’ll be back in an hour, two tops,” said Mitchell, looking deeply into Jen’s eyes.

  “Ryan, why do you have to go?” asked Jen, fighting back her emotions.

  “Jen, if I don’t, millions of people could die,” said Mitchell, taking her hand and tenderly squeezing it. “We have to stop Romanov from detonating the bombs. As long as he thinks his daughter is still alive, he won’t set them off, and that gives us a chance to stop him.”

  Jen leaned forward and kissed Mitchell on the lips, her heart racing in her chest. She knew that she would never be able to convince him not to go. “For luck,” she said, letting go of his hand.

  Mitchell wanted to say something more, but knew it would have to wait. His right wrist was splinted and taped up so it could not move. Along with a shot of Demerol for the pain, Mitchell was as ready as he could be. He looked over at Cardinal. “Look after Jen for me, and keep General O’Reilly in the loop as to what we’re up to,” Mitchell said, shaking his friend’s hand.

  “Not a problem,” replied Cardinal. “You just make sure that Sam comes home. We have a vacation planned after this,” Cardinal looked past Mitchell at Sam, as she buckled herself in beside a couple of tough-looking Marines.

  “It’s a deal,” replied Mitchell.

  Colonel Santiago walked over. “Okay, Mitchell, seeing no other viable alternative, the Chief of Naval Operations is willing to give you what you requested,” he said.

  Mitchell flashed a quick, wry grin. “Thanks, Colonel. I hope to be flying home for some well-deserved beers in an hour’s time.”

  Santiago’s face turned serious. “Captain Mitchell, if you are not off that ship in thirty minutes, I have orders to sink her, if need be, and you with it.”

  “Colonel, hitting it with an airstrike is no guarantee that Romanov won’t survive long enough to detonate the bombs.”

  “I know.”

  “Sir, you do what must be done to stop the detonation of those nukes; our safety is secondary,” replied Mitchell, his voice strong and determined. Both men shook hands. With a quick wave, Mitchell sprinted for the helicopter’s passenger door; he jumped in, and then closed the door behind him.

  Jen stoically stood there, her hands resting by her sides, tears in her eyes, as the helicopter took off, quickly raced over the top of the volcano, and disappeared from sight.

  “Time to leave,” said Santiago to his radio operator. Ten minutes later, Santiago, Jen, Fahimah, and Cardinal were airborne, and heading at full speed for Iceland. Jen said a silent prayer for Mitchell and everyone else. After what had happened today, she knew that they needed all the help they could get.

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