Something to Die For

by Will Jordan

  * * *

  The forest blazed crimson as a parachute flare shot skyward, illuminating everything for a hundred yards, including the fugitive as she made her desperate retreat uphill towards the summit.

  ‘Target sighted!’ a voice yelled out from behind. ‘Contact!’

  More gunfire erupted from both behind and off to her left somewhere. They must have sent a fireteam around to outflank her. Slowed by her injury, she couldn’t hope to outrun them now.

  The densely growing trees provided some cover, and many rounds struck them glancing blows that ricocheted off into the woods beyond, but inevitably some made it through. Shots thudded into the ground around her, kicking up clumps of wet earth, and she felt a fresh stab of pain bite into her leg when one grazed her thigh. She stumbled, fell forward, but regained her feet and kept moving.

  Reaching up, she keyed her comms unit.

  ‘Anya,’ Samantha McKnight rasped as she clawed her way up the slope. ‘I can’t… hold out much longer. You have to… do it now.’

  She had fought for every second, drawing their enemies in and keeping them occupied. Buying time for Anya to do what she must.

  She could only hope it was enough.

  * * *

  Ten miles away at Šiauliai Air Base, Anya crouched in the shadows behind a refuelling bowser. With her black combat fatigues, and her face and neck smeared with camouflage paint, she was little more than a vague, indistinguishable shape lurking in the darkness. A shape that had approached the perimeter unseen, cutting a hole in the fence and slithering beneath.

  As McKnight’s desperate transmission came through, punctuated by the sounds of gunfire, she felt a stab of guilt and grief. The woman had volunteered to act as a decoy, knowing it would likely cost her life. All of it to buy Anya precious time. A moment of vulnerability that she could exploit.

  ‘Copy that,’ she whispered. All she could offer was a short but heartfelt final message. ‘Good luck, Samantha. And thank you.’

  ‘Make it count,’ McKnight entreated, signing off.

  Forcing her mind back to matters at hand, Anya leaned out far enough to survey the scene beyond. Ahead lay the administration building that was now being used as the assault force’s base of operations.

  That was where she would find him. That was where she would end this.

  A pair of sentries in full combat gear were on station outside, both armed with H&K G36 assault rifles. Powerful and accurate weapons that could easily cut her down. Fortunately, Anya had anticipated this.

  Reaching behind her, she gently slid her main weapon off her shoulder. Rather than a rifle or submachine gun, she had put her faith in something far more primitive, but perhaps more effective.

  Anya had had a great deal of time to become acquainted with hunting bows in her lifetime. She had practised and trained and perfected her shooting technique until it had become second nature to her.

  Never had she used it against human targets, however.

  Notching the first arrow, she tensed her arm, closed her eyes and took a breath. When it happened, it would have to be fast. A single mistake, and it was over. Samantha’s sacrifice would be for nothing.

  For the first time in a long time, she thought of the mantra that had been drilled into her years earlier. The words that had sustained her through the darkest moments of her life, that had given her courage and resolve when everything else had deserted her.

  I will endure when all others fail.

  Moving out from behind cover, she drew back her arm, took aim and let fly. The silent, deadly missile leapt through the air, impacting in the centre of her target’s chest armour. The layers of Kevlar and ceramic plate had been designed to stop anything up to high velocity assault rifle rounds, but a lethally sharp steel-tipped hunting arrow was something its designers had never anticipated.

  The missile impacted with an audible thump, carving straight through his chest plate and the ribcage behind it, severing arteries and causing catastrophic internal damage. The man let out a startled grunt of pain and confusion as his legs started to buckle, but Anya wasn’t interested in him now.

  I will stand when all others retreat.

  Reaching for the quiver slung over her shoulder, she drew a second arrow and notched it before the man had even fallen.

  Alerted by the sound of his comrade in distress, the second sentry turned his weapon towards her just as she let fly. This time she aimed higher, the arrow passing through his throat, severing his spinal column in an instant. He dropped like a stone, the weapon falling from his grasp.

  Weakness will not be in my heart.

  Anya was running even as he fell, slinging the bow over her shoulder and drawing her silenced M1911 automatic as she sprinted towards the building. Two shots were enough to destroy the lock, allowing her to kick the door open and move inside.

  The central corridor was bare concrete painted a sickly lime green colour, many of the ceiling panels missing, exposing the pipework and electrical cabling above. She moved fast, weapon sweeping left and right, covering every corner and alcove as she advanced to the central stairwell.

  Fear will not be in my creed.

  She went for it, taking the steps two at a time, rounding the landing to ascend the next flight, only to run straight into another target coming down the other way. She saw the fleeting look of alarm on his face, saw him reach for his sidearm as she raised the M1911 and put two rounds through his head, painting the lime green walls with his blood.

  I will show no mercy.

  She leapt past his lifeless body as it tumbled down the stairs. Pushing herself onward, breathing hard, she shoved her way through the door at the top of the stairwell and closed in on her target.

  So close now. She wouldn’t be denied this. She wouldn’t be stopped.

  I will never hesitate.

  As she advanced along the corridor, she heard more voices, hushed and urgent. ‘Charlie Three, we have possible hostiles inside the perimeter.’

  ‘Copy that, we’re checking it out.’

  ‘Stay sharp.’

  Backing up against the wall, she drew a knife from the sheath at her waist and waited until she saw her first target appear around the corner, a suppressed P90 submachine gun up at his shoulder. A second man, similarly armed, was right behind him.

  I will never surrender.

  The moment his eyes flicked towards her, she went for it, leaping out and slashing at his exposed arm. The blade bit in deep, severing tendons and muscles, and the gun fell from nerveless fingers.

  The second man twisted around to open fire, trying to get an angle past his injured comrade. Anya, however, had the drop on him, bringing the M1911 to bear. The venerable old weapon thudded as it spat out two rounds, both of which hit dead in the centre of his forehead, killing him instantly. His finger tightened on the trigger, spraying a random burst into the walls and ceiling that narrowly missed her.

  The first man, injured and bleeding, tried to lash out with his good arm, but Anya ducked to avoid it, jammed the muzzle of her weapon beneath his jaw and fired upward. She could feel his warm blood coating the side of her face as she rushed past.

  The operations room was straight ahead. This was it.

  This was what she’d come for.

  * * *

  Clambering over a fallen log and collapsing on the other side, Samantha McKnight backed up against the solid cover, her breath coming in desperate, painful gasps. Adrenaline and sheer determination had carried her this far, but she could go no further.

  She flinched as another burst traced its way along the tree trunk, blasting away chunks of rotting wood. They knew her position, and they were keeping her pinned down to prevent further retreats.

  Staying down, she pressed a hand against the gunshot wound to her thigh, gritting her teeth against the pain. A flesh wound, but a serious one all the same. It was the chest wound that was making it harder and harder to draw breath.

  She could hear shouts all around as her enemi
es closed the net, coming at her from every direction. No way to hold them off. No way to delay it any longer.

  She felt a fleeting sense of disappointment that she hadn’t made it to the summit of the hill. She might have held out a little longer on the high ground.

  This would have to do. She looked down at the rifle in her hands, smeared with mud and the blood of its owner. One clip left.

  Forcing herself upright, she rested the rifle on the edge of the log, sighted another target fleeting through the shadows and opened fire, the powerful gun kicking back against her shoulder again and again. But her shots failed to find their target.

  Her enemies were using the abundant cover to their advantage, keeping her occupied while they moved around to outflank her.

  Sure enough, she heard movement in the undergrowth behind. This was it. They were coming to finish her.

  Breathing hard, she rolled over, swinging the rifle around to face her new threat, only to let out a gasp in disbelief. The figure which emerged from the darkness was a young woman, short and slender, with an unruly mane of dark hair. Of all the people Samantha McKnight had imagined might kill her, she had never foreseen this.

  ‘Covering fire!’ Keira Frost shouted, spraying a long burst of gunfire into the woods beyond, the flash of the gunshots illuminating her hard, resolute face.

  Moments later, a second man appeared by her side, similarly armed. As he dropped to one knee and put down more fire, temporarily holding their enemies at bay, Frost rushed forward and skidded to a stop beside McKnight.

  ‘You’re hit,’ she said, quickly assessing her condition.

  ‘Keira,’ McKnight replied, her voice a painful rasp. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Hurry it up!’ Dietrich snapped, ducking down as incoming fire zipped past him.

  ‘We’re the fucking cavalry, Sam,’ Frost explained, looking her over. ‘Let’s get you the fuck out of here.’

  Chapter 72

  Kicking the door open, Anya swept into the operations room. A dark angel, her face marked with war paint and blood, her weapon sweeping between the frightened technicians who had spun to face her.

  ‘Nobody move!’ she shouted, looking from one startled face to another but failing to find the one she wanted. ‘Where is he? Where is Starke?’

  None of them said a word. The seconds stretched out as Anya tried to decide what to do next, where to look, who to interrogate first.

  But before she could make a move, the wall-mounted TV that had been displaying live feeds from the Predator drone suddenly changed, showing something very different.

  Starke, seated at the end of a plush conference table. The kind to be found in headquarters buildings like Langley.

  ‘Looking for me, Anya?’

  * * *

  ‘Son of a bitch!’ Hawkins roared in fury the moment the transmission came through. They had been played. Anya wasn’t here, she was at the airfield.

  Not only that, but his ground force had just come under attack by unknown enemy combatants, forcing them to pull back and regroup. It was a trap, he realised now. A distraction to keep them occupied.

  And he had fallen for it.

  ‘Alpha One, disengage and get us back to the airfield immediately,’ he snarled into his headset. ‘Ground teams, move in and kill anyone who’s still alive down there.’

  As the heavy attack chopper swung away from the battle still raging below, rotor blades thumping the night air, Hawkins slammed his fist against the bulkhead beside him.

  Anya might have played them, but the game wasn’t over yet.

  * * *

  Glancing around, Anya spied a small storage room nearby. No windows, no way in or out except the door.

  ‘Everyone inside, now!’ she ordered. ‘Move!’

  As soon as the prisoners were inside, she slammed the door shut and heaved her weight against a filing cabinet beside it. Moments later, it toppled and crashed to the floor, barring the doorway and sealing them inside.

  This done, she turned her attention back to the television. She approached slowly, chest rising and falling, weapon gripped tight in her hands.

  ‘You were never here.’

  ‘Of course not. Did you really think I would come all the way to your piss-ant little country just to watch you die?’ Starke taunted her.

  ‘I had hoped you would.’

  ‘I’m sure you did.’ He leaned forward at the table. ‘Not very graceful of you, I must say. After all, you wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for me.’

  Two years earlier

  ‘I’ll position snipers in elevated positions around the meeting point,’ Freya explained, outlining her strategy for what she hoped would be her final encounter with Anya. ‘Once I’ve made contact and I have a confirmed sighting, they’ll take her down.’

  ‘And then?’ Starke asked.

  ‘Her death is something the Circle has wanted for some time now. It might just be enough to restore their faith in me. After that, we move ahead with our existing plan to access the Inner Circle and take them out.’

  Starke was silent for a time, staring into the flames flickering in the fireplace beside him. She had travelled all the way to his own private residence to present her proposal, arriving late at night so that her presence was unlikely to be noticed.

  ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ he finally asked.

  ‘I am.’

  He nodded silently to himself, a new course of action already decided upon. Freya had become a liability that now threatened to escalate into disaster. Eliminating her was the most prudent option, and if he could use Anya to do it, then all the better.

  Anya’s attention could then be directed back towards Cain. And with luck, she would eventually kill him as well.

  * * *

  ‘Why?’ Anya asked, knowing this was her last chance to answer a question that had haunted her for the past two years. ‘Why did she want me dead?’

  ‘You still don’t see it, do you? Freya knew that sooner or later you’d figure out who betrayed you to the Russians: her. Killing you first and using it to gain access to the Inner Circle was a solution to both problems. She was planning to use you in death, just as she used you in life. You were just a pawn in her game, Anya. That’s all you ever were.’

  ‘She trusted you,’ Anya spat. ‘She believed in you.’

  ‘So did you. So did her son,’ Starke remarked in amusement. ‘A weakness you share, I think. Predictability. That’s why you’re here tonight, and I’m not.’ He chuckled and shook his head. ‘I never did understand what Marcus and the Circle saw in you.’

  ‘Something they never saw in you, Starke,’ she retorted. ‘You’re a small, jealous, petty man. You’re pathetic.’

  She saw a momentary flare of anger in his eyes, an old resentment exposed, but it was quickly masked. ‘And yet, here I am. Marcus, Freya, the Circle… all of them underestimated me. All of them paid for it with their lives. Even you, Anya.’ He leaned forward, staring intently into the camera. ‘Haven’t you felt it? Haven’t you felt your time running out? You’re a relic; a quaint little curiosity from a different world. And this is where your story ends.’

  The woman felt herself bristling at his scathing words, sensing the truth in them.

  ‘You know, I don’t often let these things get personal. Killing Cain and Freya… those were necessary acts. But I have to admit, knowing you’re dead, Anya… well, that will give me a certain satisfaction.’

  Raising her gun, Anya took aim at his face and pulled the trigger. With a flash and shower of sparks, Richard Starke’s image vanished from the screen.

  Seconds later, alarms started to blare throughout the building. With his chilling final words delivered, Starke had likely triggered the alarm remotely.

  Either way, there was no choice but to evacuate.

  Retreating into the corridor, she heard the crash of a door being thrown open, the shouts of operatives closing in on her. She had neither the time nor the firepower t
o take them on.

  Without breaking stride, she sprinted in the opposite direction, looking frantically for another exit just as another cry echoed from behind.

  ‘Contact!’

  Barely had she rounded the corner before a short burst of gunfire drilled into the wall, punching straight through the thin plasterboard. But in her headlong rush to escape, she didn’t notice the figure in the corridor up ahead until she was in full view.

  Skidding to a halt, she raised the automatic at the same moment as her opponent. But then they froze, locking eyes, weapons pointed at each other.

  Anya let out a strangled, disbelieving gasp. ‘Ryan?’

  Somehow, despite everything, Drake had tracked her here, anticipated her plan tonight. And now he stood barely twenty feet away.

  For a second or two, everything else melted away as she stared at the man she’d left behind. The man she’d taken so much away from. He’d come all this way, risked everything to find her again.

  A sudden movement in the corridor behind broke the spell in an instant. Anya spun around to face the armed operative that had caught up with her, knowing even as she did so that she wouldn’t make it. But just as he raised his gun, his head was jerked violently backwards as a round slammed into it.

  Anya glanced back at Drake, smoke trailing from his weapon. She gave him a look of heartfelt gratitude, then turned and fled, crashing through the nearest door and into the office space beyond as more shooting erupted.

  She needed a distraction if either of them were to get out of here alive. Fortunately, she had one ready and waiting. Reaching into her webbing, she yanked out a radio detonator and flicked the arming switch. Then, taking cover, she triggered it.

  Outside, the shaped charge that she’d planted beneath the fuel bowser detonated, rupturing the tank and vaporising its contents, magnifying the explosive force many times over. The concussive blast wave shattered every window in the admin building, knocking the occupants off their feet and showering them with broken glass.