Goliath

by Richard Turner

Nouakchott International Airport

  Nouakchott, Mauritania

  The cold gray light of dawn slowly crept up on the horizon, as the seemingly endless night gradually slipped away.

  At the far end of a side runway used exclusively by Mauritania’s military leaders, sat a Learjet painted the golden color of the Romanov Corporation. Parked beside it was an L-100, a civilian version of the venerable military transport workhorse, the C-130 Hercules. A company of Mauritanian soldiers with several armored cars guarded the airstrip.

  Colonel Chang wrapped his khaki scarf around his face, protecting his skin against the reddish-colored sand that was blowing across the airfield with the cool wind coming off the Atlantic. It had been a long night. He stood there and quietly watched as the sea container holding the two nuclear bombs was carefully loaded aboard the L-100. With their security infiltrated twice in as many days, Chang had convinced Romanov that his plan needed to be re-adjusted. The bombs were now going to be flown to Iceland. It was obvious that the people had only been after their American hostages, but he could not risk the second and far more important part of their operation being discovered, even by accident.

  His eyes narrowed as he observed a Mauritanian Army helicopter descend from the gray sky and land less than one hundred meters away. Out climbed the murderer, Teplov, and Nika Romanov, both bandaged and moving gingerly across the windswept tarmac toward the waiting Learjet. Chang smiled at their discomfort; to him, they were a pair of meddling irritants that had cost him dearly in loyal and trained men. He checked his watch, satisfied that they would make the new timetable and be on their way to Iceland within the hour.

  Nika slowly climbed up the stairs of the jet. Her head was killing her. She began to wonder if she had a concussion from the butt stroke to her head. Her nose had been set and purplish-yellow bruises had begun to form under her bitter-looking eyes. She looked inside the plane and saw Jen fast asleep under a blanket, her hands tied securely to the chair. Sitting across from Jen was her father, staring out the window; he looked exhausted. His once-intense eyes were now bloodshot and glassy from fatigue. Nika could see that he had not shaved in days. The stress was beginning to show on them all, but now was not the time to slow down, not when they were so close to accomplishing their dreams. She carefully lowered herself into a chair across the aisle from her father, trying not to move her aching head too much, while Teplov found a seat at the front of the plane.

  “Father,” said Nika gently, trying to get his attention.

  Silence was all she got in return.

  Nika tried again. This time her father looked over at her; his face instantly changed from despondency to concern at the sight of the bandages on Nika’s head.

  “My God, Nika! What on earth happened to you?” asked Romanov.

  “Ryan Mitchell, that’s what happened to me,” said Nika, her voice bitter and angry. “He took the consort’s crown, wrecked an entire building, killed who knows how many soldiers, and somehow managed to shoot Teplov in the shoulder as well.”

  “Colonel Chang told me about the escape, but he forgot to tell me that you had lost the consort’s crown,” remarked Romanov.

  “Must have slipped his mind,” replied Nika. “Don’t worry, Father, we can get it back,” said Nika, looking over at Jen.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Mitchell seems driven to protect this woman. Perhaps we can use her as a bargaining chip. A simple one-for-one trade,” explained Nika.

  “Perhaps?” pondered Romanov.

  “Where is Alexandra?” asked Nika, not seeing her sister in the plane.

  “I sent her ahead with a small detail of men to prepare for our arrival. With things changing hourly, I wanted to ensure that we did not have any further needless delays or interference. Forty-eight hours from now, the world will watch as I become the next President of Russia, all thanks to a group of misguided nationalist criminals and a couple of well-placed nuclear bombs.”

  Nika felt fatigue taking hold of her tired frame. She closed her eyes and reclined her seat all the way back. In seconds, she was fast asleep, oblivious to the world around her, while Chang and his men finished their preparations. On schedule, they took off, leaving the sand-strewn shores of Africa, flying towards their rendezvous with destiny.

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