by Will Jordan
* * *
‘Holy shit!’ the pilot of the Mi-24 gunship gasped, staring out through his canopy at the sudden eruption of orange fire. ‘The airfield’s under attack.’
Unlatching his harness, Hawkins strode forward, leaning into the cockpit to take a look. His face, lit by the glow of the distant flames, slowly twisted in anger.
‘Looks like they’ve been hit by an air strike.’
‘It’s not an air strike,’ Hawkins snarled. ‘It’s her.’
Chapter 73
‘Covering fire!’ Dietrich shouted, taking rear-guard position as the small group fell back. Sighting another target darting between tree trunks, he opened fire, spraying a long burst in his direction.
Frost meanwhile was half-carrying, half-dragging an injured McKnight beside her. Her face was resolute, jaw clenched, but her breathing was growing shallow and laboured.
‘Come on, goddamn it!’ Frost snarled, pulling her onward. ‘Don’t make me go through all this shit just to die here.’
They were almost at the summit, the trees thinning out around them.
‘I thought… you… said you’d kill me,’ McKnight gasped.
The young woman glanced at her, seeing how much she’d been willing to sacrifice. ‘I was wrong.’
McKnight said nothing to that.
‘Changing mags!’ Dietrich called out. His shout was immediately followed by a dull, heavy thump. He went down, clutching his shoulder and growling in pain.
‘Jonas!’ Frost said, leaving McKnight briefly to sprint over to him. He was bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound to the upper right side of his chest. One look at the injury was enough to tell her it was serious. He knew it too.
‘Well, fuck,’ he said, grimacing.
Frost shook her head. ‘Don’t be a pussy. Get up and move!’
Helping him to his feet, she hurried over to McKnight. Together the three of them staggered the short distance to the summit, surmounted by a tangle of weathered boulders and long grass. McKnight collapsed against one of the rocks, her strength finally spent.
‘They’re moving to outflank us,’ Dietrich warned, struggling to aim his weapon with one good arm. ‘They’ll cut us off if we don’t move.’
‘Sam, we can’t stay here,’ Frost implored her. ‘We have to go.’
McKnight shook her head. The look in her eyes said it all.
‘Give me my rifle,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll hold them off… as long as I can. You two fall back and—’
‘No!’ Frost retorted. ‘I already left one friend behind. I’m not doing it again.’
Rather than argue, McKnight looked her in the eye and nodded gently. ‘It’s okay, Keira,’ she whispered. ‘I knew what… I signed up for. Let me do this. Please.’
Glancing away for a moment, Frost blinked back tears.
‘We stay together,’ she said at last, then reached up and touched her radio headset. ‘Alex, it’s time.’
‘Wait a minute,’ the young man’s crackling voice replied.
‘We don’t have a minute!’
* * *
‘Sir, we have them on thermal imaging,’ one of the technicians reported.
Starke looked up, his attention drawn to the feeds from the Predator’s infrared cameras. The small group of fugitives had taken refuge on the high ground overlooking the destroyed homestead, intending to make their last stand there.
But in doing so, they had made themselves visible.
He could see the images of his own strike team moving through the woods, closing the net around them. They would of course overwhelm the three defenders, but it would take time. Time he didn’t have.
‘You got a target lock?’
‘Yes, sir. Hellfires are armed and ready.’
The decision made itself.
‘Roll in the drone strike,’ he said, preoccupied by the more pressing situation at the airfield. ‘Wipe them out.’
‘Viper One, roll in strike package. You are weapons free. Ground teams, danger close. Repeat, danger close.’
On the other side of the world, the unmanned Predator drone banked left, lining up for a ground strike. Its thermal cameras quickly reacquired the three targets, passing the information to the four Hellfire air-to-ground missiles attached to the wing pylons.
‘Viper One is hot. Target acquired. Fox Two.’
The technicians in the ops room waited for the missile to streak in, obliterating everything on that hilltop. However, no such thing happened.
‘Viper One, confirm launch?’
‘Negative, Viper One will not launch.’
‘Say again?’
Starke glanced over at the screen again with growing concern. The Predator’s targeting system suddenly shifted from the three figures crouched together on the hilltop, to the fire teams in the treeline around them.
‘Viper One, be advised. You are targeting friendlies,’ the comms specialist warned. ‘Repeat, you are targeting friendly forces.’
‘Viper One does not have control. Repeat, Viper One is non-responsive.’
‘What the hell is going on?’ Starke demanded. ‘Someone talk to me!’
A second later, all four Hellfire missiles departed their weapons racks, streaking down through the dark sky towards their targets. Starke and the others could do nothing but watch as four simultaneous points of light exploded on screen, temporarily blinding the infrared cameras and obliterating the operatives caught within the blast radius.
* * *
‘Fuck, yes!’ Alex cried out, punching the air in triumph as the drone feed on his laptop screen displayed the devastating aftermath of his work. ‘Take that, you pricks.’
He and Jessica had remained behind at the airport, using the air traffic control system there to pinpoint the Predator drone circling the battle zone. Once he had the aircraft locked in, it had simply been a case of breaking the encryption code governing its control system, and then wrestling command from its operators.
It had been a close-run thing, however. His hands were still shaking.
‘Well done, Alex,’ Jessica said, squeezing his shoulder before hitting her radio transmitter. ‘Keira, Jonas, do you copy? Are you okay?’
* * *
‘We hear you,’ Dietrich replied, coughing as smoke from the missile detonations rolled past them. His ears were still ringing. ‘We’re okay. But maybe you could aim a little further out next time?’
‘I’d rather there wasn’t a next time,’ Jessica replied.
Dietrich flashed a sardonic smile. ‘That makes two of us.’
Nearby, Frost pushed her hair back from her face and looked up at McKnight, who was lying on her back against one of the boulders. Seeing the young woman close by, she turned her head slowly to look at her.
‘You planned this?’
Frost nodded. ‘Had no idea if it would work. Guess I really do owe Alex a beer.’ Seeing the blood smeared on the rock behind her, she moved forward. ‘We need to get you patched up.’
McKnight waved her away weakly. It was a wasted effort, she knew. She was lung-shot, her body giving up on her at last.
‘Do me a favour. If you see Ryan again, tell him…’ She coughed, leaving a smear of blood on the ground. ‘Tell him I’m sorry. Okay?’
Reaching out, Frost clasped her hand tight. ‘I will.’
Content at last, McKnight turned her head away from the young woman and looked up at the sky. It was starting to grow brighter in the east, the stars fading as the new day dawned.
A day she wouldn’t live to see.
She had fought for every second, and she had won. And that was enough for her.
She smiled contentedly as her grip slackened and her hand fell away.
Chapter 74
Coughing, Drake advanced through the smoke-filled rooms, his weapon up and ready. His ears were ringing, eyes stinging, skin cut by flying glass. But he was alive, and he could move.
He had to find Anya and get out of here.
Flames were
licking up the side of the building. Burning fuel from the ruptured bowser was consuming the admin block. If Anya had escaped this way, there was no way he could follow. He had to find another way out.
As he retreated back down the corridor, a figure suddenly leapt out at him from around the corner, tackling him into the wall opposite. One of the operatives who had been closing in on them, similarly disoriented by the blast.
With a surge of rage and fury, Drake drove his knee into the man’s chest, hurled him backward against the opposite wall and turned his weapon on him, unleashing a devastating burst into his torso.
Even as the man slid down the wall, Drake hurried past, only to stop in his tracks, hearing frantic screaming and hammering coming from a room up ahead, mingled with plaintive cries for help. People trapped inside. They would burn to death if he didn’t help them. Doing so would use up precious time, but could he really walk away and let innocent people die?
‘Fuck,’ he hissed, hurrying into the badly damaged operations room. The place was a mess, the power cut, smoke billowing from the overhead vents as the building was consumed.
The cries were coming from a door on the other side of the room, blocked by a heavy metal cabinet that had fallen across it. Rushing over, he laid down his weapon down, grasped the cabinet and heaved. It moved an inch or so. Redoubling his efforts, Drake braced himself against the wall and pushed, every muscle in his body straining and trembling. And finally, with a grating rasp, the cabinet shifted.
The door flew open, the occupants forcing their way through the narrow gap. They were unarmed and panicked.
‘Get out of here!’ Drake commanded, turning away and charging down the stairwell to the lower floor. A wall of flames raged at the far end of the corridor where the exit had been, blocking his path.
‘Anya!’ he called out, throwing up a hand against the searing heat.
There was no response.
He couldn’t stay here any longer. Kicking open the nearest door, he sprinted across the devastated briefing room beyond and leapt through the shattered window into the open air beyond. He landed hard, before scrambling to his feet and looking around, his weapon up at his shoulder again.
The airfield was in chaos, alarms blaring and personnel running back and forth, some trying to tackle the blazing building with hastily deployed fire hoses. A Humvee had pulled up nearby, the occupants leaping out to aid the firefighting efforts.
But as Drake scanned the area, he spotted a figure stealthily leap up into the Humvee’s cab. Seconds later, the engine leapt into life and the Humvee took off across the open airfield, heading straight for the perimeter fence. It was Anya, making her escape in a stolen vehicle.
Without even slowing, the Humvee smashed straight through the chain link fence, bumping and rolling across the rough ground beyond.
But Drake wasn’t the only one who had seen it. Several hundred feet overhead, Hawkins watched the retreating vehicle through the Mi-24’s night vision cameras. He smiled as it broke through the perimeter fence, heading for the dense woodland beyond.
‘That’s her,’ he said. ‘Bring us in tight.’
Standing in the midst of the ruined airfield, Drake could only watch in silent horror as the massive gunship swept down, descending on the retreating vehicle.
‘No…’ he whispered.
‘Target locked!’ the gunner called out.
Hawkins smiled triumphantly. ‘Light her up.’
Disgorging its remaining ordnance, the gunship unleashed a flurry of unguided rockets that streaked down and impacted across the Humvee’s path. The effect on the lightly armoured vehicle was devastating, one rocket shredding the rear portion of the vehicle while another near miss flipped it over. The shattered remains cartwheeled over before coming to rest at the edge of the woods, burning and smoking.
‘Good hit, Alpha,’ Hawkins said, nodding in satisfaction. ‘Bring us in. This isn’t over until I see her fucking body.’
As the gunship settled into a hover, descent ropes were tossed over the side, allowing Hawkins and a four-man fire team to slide down. Unclipping himself from the harness, Hawkins raised his weapon and nodded to the men beside him.
‘Alpha is Splash One on ordnance,’ the pilot advised over the radio. ‘We have to RTB for resupply. Good luck.’
Hawkins ignored this as the chopper peeled away, focussing on the ruined Humvee. It had overturned, flames licking out of the ruined engine bay, but the main body of the vehicle was still recognisable.
‘Cover me,’ he instructed, gripping the driver’s door and forcing it open with brute strength, eager to see Anya’s dead body with his own eyes. The weapon up at his shoulder, his finger on the trigger, ready to finish her if by some miracle she’d survived.
She wasn’t there. The Humvee was empty.
A trickle of icy fear ran down his neck when he saw the metal entrenching tool lying on the floor of the cab. Wedged against the accelerator.
Anya wasn’t aboard. It was a trap.
‘Cover!’ he called out, whirling around and dropping to one knee.
Something whizzed through the air, striking the man beside him. He stumbled back, an arrow protruding from the torn, bloody remains of his throat.
‘Contact!’ Hawkins shouted, firing blindly into the woods.
Backing up against the solid cover of a tree trunk, Anya notched another arrow and drew the string back, waiting for her chance. Stray rounds zipped past her and thudded into the trunk she was hiding behind, but still she didn’t move.
* * *
Drake, sprinting towards the crash site, pounding through the grass and leaping over the crushed remains of the perimeter fence, heard the distinctive crackle of automatic gunfire. It could only mean one thing.
Anya was still alive!
Redoubling his efforts, he forced himself on, exerting every ounce of energy that remained to him in this final, desperate race against time. This was his last chance to reach her.
* * *
They were wasting ammunition, Hawkins realised. That was exactly what she wanted. He held up a hand to stop the firing. As silence descended around them, he slowly moved behind the ruined Humvee, his eyes scanning the darkened woodland.
Far from being terrified, he smiled at the situation in which he now found himself. Anya was toying with them, picking them off one at a time, evening the odds. But he was the one she really wanted.
That was how he’d beat her.
‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ he said mockingly, edging closer to one of his fellow operatives. ‘I know you want to.’
Anya held her position, breathing hard, forcing herself not to lose control. Waiting for the perfect moment, just like a hunter should.
‘So this is how it ends,’ Hawkins went on. ‘The great Maras, the best operative the Agency ever had… How does it feel to have nothing left? To lose everything you ever cared about?’
Anya could feel her heartbeat quickening, her muscles trembling, desperate to act. With a great effort of will, she held on, waiting.
Nearby, Hawkins readied himself. ‘Cain gave his life to save yours. I have to admit, I’m gonna enjoy sending you to him.’
Now.
Rounding the tree, Anya’s keen eyes scanned her targets, found the one she sought, and swung the bow into position, already taking tension on the string. A single second was all it took to line up her shot, then she let fly.
At the same moment, Hawkins grabbed the operative beside him and pulled him backward, right into the arrow’s path. As the missile impacted and he let out a cry of agony, Hawkins’ assault rifle spat out a short, vicious burst.
Anya felt the fist-like impact, the familiar burst of cold numbness as the round struck her. The bow flew from her grasp and she went down, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the abdomen.
Releasing his grip on the dying man, Hawkins strode towards his injured prey as she tried feebly to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. The other two operatives
converged on him, their weapons up, fingers on triggers.
‘Nobody kills her but me,’ Hawkins warned them.
She could no longer use the hunting bow. Rolling over, Anya reached down and drew her M1911 automatic. Hawkins was ready for her. Taking careful aim, he snapped off a shot that tore into her upper arm, jerking it backward. Anya groaned as a new wave of pain assaulted her, stubbornly refusing to cry out.
Taking no chances, Hawkins clamped his boot down on her arm, pinning it to the ground and preventing her reaching for the gun. Teeth bared, Anya glared up at her enemy.
‘You were quite something in your time, but your time’s over,’ Hawkins said, shaking his head as he surveyed his beaten enemy. ‘And you know something? I was always better.’
Relishing the moment, he raised his other foot and pressed it against her injured abdomen. There was no holding back the pain this time. Anya screamed in agony as Hawkins twisted his boot and blood flowed freely from the wound.
By the time he withdrew it, she was close to passing out, her vision blurring, her world one of tortured anguish assailing her on all sides. Bending down, Hawkins plucked the automatic from the ground and looked at the venerable old weapon.
‘I wonder how many lives this old piece of iron’s taken,’ he mused, turning it over in his hand. He smiled and tossed his assault rifle aside. ‘Seems only right that it takes one more.’
He raised Anya’s gun, taking aim at its owner. Injured and bleeding, Anya could do nothing but stare back at him: a huge, powerful figure silhouetted against the fires behind him, his eyes gleaming with absolute hatred and malice.
This was how it was going to end. This was how she would die.
‘This is all you ever were, Anya,’ he said as his finger tightened on the trigger. ‘Expendable.’
Suddenly a sudden burst of automatic gunfire exploded from off to his right, the two operatives behind him crumpling to the ground. Startled, Hawkins whirled to face this new threat, bringing the weapon with him.