‘Who?’
He frowned in concentration. ‘Al-Rais doesn’t know. Qasid kept all his sources secret so they couldn’t be exposed if someone else in the organisation got captured. But he knows it was someone with access to highly classified information.’
‘That should narrow things down, though, shouldn’t it?’
‘Definitely. The Secretary’s entire visit was top secret, never mind the route she was taking to the meeting. They’ve got to let me take an imprint from Qasid. He knows who the mole is!’ He reactivated the earwig. ‘Holly Jo, put me through to—’
Two sharp cracks came from somewhere outside. Adam’s head snapped round at the noise. ‘Kyle! That was gunfire – what’s happening?’
‘I dunno,’ said Kyle, confused. ‘I landed the UAV to save power – the camera’s off.’
Adam drew his SIG and ran to the door. Baxter had also heard the noise, hurrying up behind him with his rifle raised. ‘What was it?’
‘I don’t know. Bianca, stay back,’ Adam warned as he surveyed the scene. No movement . . .
‘Tony!’ he shouted. Tony was sprawled on the ground near the jetty, blood on his face. Nearby was Trenton, red lines oozing over his coat from a ragged wound in his back. No sign of Cope – but then he saw the other man’s legs at the water’s edge, his upper body half-submerged amongst the broken ice where he had fallen.
Al-Rais was gone.
32
Ambush
‘
Adam!’ said Holly Jo. ‘Zykov’s satphone – someone’s using it!’
‘Tap it,’ Adam ordered. He heard a shrill whine nearby as the UAV took off. ‘John, cover me!’
He hurried across the tracks to the fallen men. Tony was alive, but barely conscious, a deep cut on his temple. Both Cope and Trenton were dead, shot. Trenton’s G36 was missing. Adam looked round. Al-Rais had gone to Zykov’s body to get his phone. The nearest cover from there was in the woods to the north.
He signalled for Baxter to watch in that direction. ‘Tony! What happened?’ The only reply was a groan.
‘I’ve got al-Rais,’ Holly Jo reported. ‘He’s talking to Sevnik – oh, crap.’
‘What?’
‘He’s turning round. Adam, the gunship’s coming back!’
‘Kyle, find the Hind,’ said Adam. ‘I need to know the second you see it. John! Help me with Tony!’
As the rest of Baxter’s men took up positions to watch the woods, their leader ran to Adam. ‘What the hell happened here?’
‘Get him up.’ They picked up Tony, who moaned. ‘We need to get everyone on the plane, now. The Hind’s on its way back.’
The older man regarded his fallen comrades with anguish. ‘We can’t leave them behind!’
‘The living have priority. Get everyone aboard. Did you talk to the pilot?’
‘He’ll do what we tell him,’ Baxter assured him coldly. They started for the jetty, carrying Tony between them. ‘Everybody, get to the plane! Rossovich, bring the pilot! Spence, you’ve got the other guy!’
‘Stay with me, Dr Childs,’ said Perez as Bianca emerged fearfully from the building, carrying the cases. Rossovich, the XM500 slung from a shoulder, followed them out, one hand clenched on the co-pilot’s collar as the other shoved his pistol into the young man’s back. Behind him, Spence pushed Qasid at gunpoint. ‘Okay, let’s move.’
Everyone headed for the pier, eyes sweeping the trees. ‘Kyle, do you see the gunship?’ Adam asked as he reached the jetty.
‘Not yet.’ They might have enough time to get airborne, then . . .
Morgan cut in through the earwig. ‘Adam, where’s al-Rais?’
‘In the woods somewhere.’
‘You’ve got to recapture him!’
‘There isn’t time.’ He checked the trees to the north again. Still no sign of the terrorist leader. ‘We’ve got the imprint, we can—’
A crackle of gunfire – from the south.
Rossovich was hit by several bullets and tumbled to the snowy ground. The co-pilot took another round to his abdomen. He fell, screaming. Everyone else on the shore scrambled for cover, Perez practically throwing Bianca behind a pile of scrap before diving alongside her.
Adam and Baxter, Tony still hanging limply between them, were completely exposed on the jetty. They turned to find the threat, knowing that a second burst would finish them . . .
It didn’t come. ‘Go!’ said Baxter. They ran back along the pier and jumped down into the meagre cover it provided at the shoreline, ice crunching and snapping underfoot as they landed. Freezing water splashed over Adam’s feet. He ignored it, concentrating on locating their enemy.
He should have known. Al-Rais was always willing to take calculated risks. Instead of going straight for the nearer trees, he had stayed in the open for the extra seconds needed to cross the tracks and find cover on the cutting’s southern side. Part of him felt a gloating pride at having outsmarted the infidels—
He crushed the feeling. ‘Where is he?’ he called.
‘I think he’s in the big building,’ someone shouted back.
Adam cautiously peered at what had not long earlier been his own hiding place. Several windows, and the terrorist could be behind any of them – or none. Never stay still, said the unwelcome resident in his mind. A fly that lands gets swatted.
Seconds passed. Still no further gunfire – but a wail from the wounded Russian told Adam that al-Rais had fired all the shots he needed. Without the pilot, the American team had no way to escape. Some of them, Adam included, had received basic flight training – but none knew how to pilot a jet-powered seaplane.
The Hind was no more than five minutes away. They wouldn’t stand a chance against it . . .
Another scream – and he knew what he had to do.
‘Bianca!’ Adam yelled. ‘Set up the PERSONA!’
‘What?’ she shrieked back, on the verge of panic. ‘What for?’
‘The pilot! If we transfer his persona, I can fly us out of here!’
‘No!’ gasped Tony, stirring weakly. ‘It’ll wipe al-Rais’s persona. We can’t afford to lose it.’
‘We’ve got the recording. And keeping it in my head won’t be any use if we’re all dead. John, you’ve got to get the pilot to Bianca. It’s our only chance.’
Baxter was uncertain, but set his jaw. ‘We’ll get him. Listen up!’ he shouted to the others, issuing orders.
‘Adam,’ said Morgan through the earwig, ‘Tony’s right. If we lose al-Rais—’
‘We’ve already lost him,’ Adam said, curt. ‘Tony, what happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tony said, eyes screwed up in pain. ‘I was walking just ahead of him, and – he must have gotten free somehow, grabbed Trenton’s gun and hit me. I don’t remember anything after that.’
‘How the hell did he get free?’ growled Baxter. ‘His hands were cuffed behind his back!’
‘He had a knife,’ Adam remembered. ‘But – no, your team found it when you searched him. He knew how to break flex-cuffs, though. Najjar taught him. That doesn’t matter now, though. John, are you set?’
‘Yeah.’ Baxter brought up his rifle. ‘Okay, guys, ready – and go!’
He aimed the gun at the large building, ready to fire at the slightest sign of movement. Along the cutting, other squad members did the same, covering Perez as he ran into the open to drag the pilot back to cover. The Russian screamed again, his cry echoing off the ruined buildings.
Adam raised his own pistol. Where was al-Rais? What was he planning? Would he attack Perez and the pilot while they were vulnerable in the open? No, the terrorist’s persona told him. Even if I hit them, the moment I fire the Americans will shoot back. All I have to do is stop them from reaching the plane, and wait until Sevnik arrives . . .
He was covering the jetty, then. From where? A clear vantage point, but with cover. The wooden walls would give no protection against rifle bullets. Adam looked along the icy shore to the south. There was a small hut
behind the former mine offices. Near it was a pile of snow-covered debris; broken wood, garbage—
Something moved behind it.
Adam fired three shots. The shape ducked, then reappeared, running for the hut. Adam fired again, but al-Rais had already thrown himself behind the little structure.
‘Watch Tony,’ Adam told Baxter as he ran to Bianca. Perez pulled the pilot behind the scrap pile. ‘He’s behind that building!’ he warned the troops, pointing.
‘Adam, I’ve just spotted the Hind,’ Kyle said.
‘How long before it gets here?’
‘A few minutes, but it’s coming at full steam. You’ve got to get out of there.’
‘That’s the plan. Bianca, are you ready?’
She regarded the writhing pilot, appalled. ‘We can’t make a transfer from him! He’s been shot!’
‘Yeah, and we’ll be shot in about three minutes if you don’t. The gunship’s coming back!’
She hesitated, then began to put the skullcap on the Russian’s head. He cried out, babbling. ‘Hold him down,’ she told Perez.
Adam took the jet injector from the case, then sat with his back against the scrap pile. ‘This is still set for the right dose, yes?’
‘It should be,’ Bianca replied. He brought the device to his neck. ‘No, wait! I’ll do it.’
‘No time.’ He gasped at the sharp pain, then lay back and waited for the drug to take effect.
He felt al-Rais’s persona clawing at his mind, desperate to hold on as the Neutharsine washed through it. But even the terrorist leader’s willpower was not enough to resist the chain reaction of chemical processes. The other voice in his head seemed to scream before dissolving to nothingness . . .
‘Adam!’ He opened his eyes to see Bianca leaning over him anxiously, and realised that his own skullcap was now in place. ‘Did it work? Is al-Rais’s persona gone?’
‘I . . . I think so.’ He tried to think of the Saudi’s parents, his lovers. No memories came to him. ‘Are you ready?’
She had the other injector primed with a dose of Hyperthymexine. ‘Yes, but . . . he’s injured, I don’t know what’ll happen. It might kill him!’
‘It’s our only chance. Do it!’
Reluctantly, she injected the co-pilot. He let out a gurgling shriek, flecks of spittle around his mouth tinged with blood. Bianca grimaced, then activated the PERSONA.
At the jetty, Tony struggled to sit up. ‘John,’ he groaned. ‘Give me a hand.’
Baxter pulled him into a crouch. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m gonna need a truckload of Advil, but I’ll live.’ He reached into his coat and took out his silenced SIG. ‘Where’s al-Rais?’
‘Somewhere behind that building.’
‘Adam?’
‘With Childs. They’re using the machine on the pilot.’
‘Damn it. I told him – never mind.’ His headset had been dislodged; he fumbled it back into place. ‘Holly Jo, Kyle, what’s the situation?’
‘Chopper’s coming in fast,’ Kyle warned.
‘Okay, whatever happens here, you need to be ready to get into the air. Tell the pilot to start the engines and stand by. If you lose contact with us, then he takes off immediately and heads back to US airspace at maximum speed. Understand?’
‘But we can’t leave you behind,’ protested Holly Jo.
‘If that Hind does what it was designed to do, there won’t be anything of us left behind. That’s an order, okay? Tell him to power up, now.’
‘What do we tell the Russians?’
‘Anything you have to. Just get the plane ready for takeoff. Out.’ He exchanged a grim look with Baxter, then they turned their eyes and weapons back to the search for al-Rais.
Despite the cold, Bianca was sweating. She watched the columns of scrolling figures with a growing sense of hopelessness. ‘Come on, faster,’ she muttered, willing the numbers to speed up – but knowing that they wouldn’t.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at the pilot, shuddering in the snow. Instead she checked Adam. His eyes were flickering as he took in the Russian’s memories. Another look at the screen. What had been normal was now excruciatingly slow. ‘Come on!’
Perez scuttled from the scrap pile to duck behind an overturned mine cart some forty feet away. Rifle raised, he surveyed the woods opposite before glancing up at the mine. ‘Dr Childs – you’d better move back into the trees.’
‘I can’t leave them,’ she protested, indicating the two men beside her.
‘You need to get out of sight.’ A distant drumming became audible, the rapid tattoo echoing off the surrounding hills. ‘We’re about to have company!’
With a despairing look at Adam, Bianca unwillingly backed up to the trees. The sound grew louder—
The gunship rose over the summit like a bird of prey and swooped down towards the lake.
Fire flashed from the Hind’s nose with a fearsome chainsaw rasp as its twin-barrelled autocannon spewed out fifty rounds every second. A line of eruptions ripped along the ground. They raced towards the Vityaz – which shook under the metallic hammer-blows before disintegrating in a blinding fireball, a black mushroom cloud swelling skywards.
But the line didn’t stop there. It raced snake-like through the cutting, hunting for prey – then finding it, and striking.
The cart was no protection against the gunship’s explosive 30mm rounds. They ripped through it, shattering the corroded steel – and hitting the man behind it. Perez didn’t even have time to scream as he was torn apart by shells and shrapnel.
And the deadly serpent raced on, seeing more victims ahead – the pilot and Adam, lying helpless on the ground—
The line of fire suddenly swerved. Shells hit the pile of rusted scrap rather than the men behind it as the Hind banked. The gunship blasted overhead, rotor wash kicking up a freezing whirlwind of snow in its wake. It crossed the shoreline and headed out over the lagoon, beginning a long, sweeping turn for a second attack.
The downdraught had dislodged lumps of snow from the trees, leaving Bianca covered. Coughing, she shook off the icy deposits and looked out with trepidation into the cutting. To her relief, Adam was unharmed – but the sight of what was left of Perez almost made her vomit. Acidic bile burning in her throat, she stumbled out into the open and crouched beside the agent, wiping snow off the PERSONA.
The activity on the screen was dying down. Heart pounding, Bianca pulled off a glove and stabbed at the keyboard. CALCULATING LATENCY ESTIMATES. The figures finally appeared. They were only just within the limits she had been taught were acceptable – but she didn’t care. ‘Adam, wake up!’
She tugged at the skullcap. Adam stirred – and sprang upright with an anguished scream. Bianca fell backwards in fright. He clutched at his side, wailing in Russian – then stopped, panting.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Bianca gasped.
‘His strongest memory – it’s being shot!’ He looked down at himself, almost surprised to find that he was unhurt. ‘I thought I’d been shot too.’
‘You nearly were! The helicopter – it killed Perez!’ Keeping her eyes averted, she pointed towards the mine carts.
‘Jesus,’ said Adam as he saw the dead man. He looked for the Hind. It was still making its turn; the heavily armoured flying tank did not possess dragonfly manoeuvrability. ‘Get the gear packed up. We’ve got to get to the plane.’
‘Can you fly it?’
Despite the tension of the situation, the emotion that crossed his face was embarrassment. ‘Ah . . . kind of.’
‘What do you mean, “kind of”?’
‘I mean, this guy was still learning! He’s only made two takeoffs from water, and both times he had an instructor helping.’
‘Well, that’s just fantastic!’ Bianca started to remove the co-pilot’s electrode cap, only to pull back in horror. The Russian was still and silent, unmoving eyes staring at the leaden sky. ‘Oh, God!’
Adam knew what she was thinking. ‘You
didn’t kill him,’ he assured her, indicating the spreading red stain in the snow at the pilot’s side. ‘Al-Rais shot him, not you.’
‘But – but if we’d done something for him, he might—’
‘Bianca, if we don’t get out of here, we’ll be dead too. Come on!’ He yanked the skullcap off the dead man and tossed it into the case, then slammed the PERSONA’s screen shut and shoved the machine into its foam bed. ‘I’ll take this – you carry the recorder.’ He looked round at the lagoon – and froze.
The Hind was coming back.
33
Cut Off
Sevnik was in the gunner’s seat, finger on the cannon’s trigger as he surveyed the scene below on the hooded gunsight screen. It had been many years since he had flown in actual combat, attacking rebels in the Second Chechen War, but he had not forgotten how to fight.
‘Come right three degrees,’ he told the pilot in the seat behind him. Unlike earlier models of the Mi-24, which had a rotating turret, the 30mm autocannons on this machine’s nose were fixed and required the entire aircraft to be lined up on its target. The chopper banked gently. ‘Hold.’ He switched the gunsight’s mode to infrared, the cold landscape becoming a dark grey with hot white spots revealing the Americans al-Rais had warned him about.
Two of the spots were at the shore end of the jetty. The line showing where the cannon shells would impact ran right over them. ‘Move in.’
Small flashes of light on the IR display. The Americans were shooting at him! An act of pure desperation: even if they scored a hit, the gunship’s armour was impervious to anything smaller than a .50-calibre round.
His finger tightened on the trigger, ready to fire . . .
Something flicked through his peripheral vision – not on the screen, but outside the cockpit canopy. The pilot reacted in surprise. ‘What—’
The helicopter shuddered as something hit the engine intakes above the cockpit and exploded.
‘What the hell?’ shouted Baxter as fire and smoke burst from the Hind’s upper fuselage. Debris dropped into the water. The gunship banked sharply, turning away from the pier and crossing the shoreline to drop behind the trees to the south. ‘We didn’t hit it that hard!’