The Unknown

by Brett Battles

  The guard frowned. “We’re still in lockdown.”

  “If General Nesterov is dead and Commander Snetkov is missing, that makes me the highest-ranking person here, does it not?”

  “I’m-I’m not sure.”

  “Trust me. It does. As the officer in charge, I am ordering you to let me onto that elevator.”

  The man looked at the other guards and glanced at the phone.

  “Are you going to have to call this one in, too?” Grigory asked.

  “I probably should.”

  “All right. Then you can explain to the general’s superiors in Nur-Sultan why no one went up to see if the intruders were getting away.” Anger flared in his eyes. “What’s your name, soldier?”

  The man licked his lips and said to the others, “Let him by.”

  “Smart move.”

  One of the other men pushed a button and the elevator doors opened.

  Grigory took a step toward it. “I need your rifle.”

  Armed now, he entered the car and pressed the button for the hangar.

  Due to the emergency, the three-man topside detail was all guarding the elevator. Grigory identified the corporal in charge and said, “I need a motorbike.”

  These soldiers were much more cooperative from the start, and less than two minutes later, Grigory shot through the narrowly opened hangar doors on a Honda CRF450X.

  He continued until he was just short of the runway, where he stopped to get his bearings. In the valley, about a kilometer south of his location, was a group of boulders. Nothing as eye catching as Lonely Rock to the north, but an unusual sight on the otherwise empty land.

  That had to be where the other exit let out.

  He gunned the bike toward it.

  Orlando heard a motor, but it didn’t sound like the one she’d been expecting.

  “Stay here,” she said to Jar and Brunner.

  She crawled through the tunnel under the boulder, stopped right before the end, and took a look at the area surrounding her. The sound was louder now, but she still couldn’t see what was making it. She pulled herself out of the passage and moved along the formation, staying tight to the rocks.

  When she saw the motorcycle heading toward her from the base, she grimaced. It had to be Krylov. He was the only one who knew they would be out here.

  He was one persistent SOB, that was for sure.

  From the opposite direction, she heard another engine. She moved around until she saw the Land Cruiser racing into the valley.

  “Orlando for Quinn. I don’t know if you can see him but we’ve got company.”

  “Where?” Quinn asked.

  “A motorcycle, heading straight toward us from the airfield.”

  A few seconds of silence, then, “We see it.”

  “It’s a lot closer to us than you are.”

  “Any way you can slow him down?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Copy.”

  Orlando circled back to the passageway. “Jar, I’m going to need you out here,” she yelled into it. “And bring your gun.”

  Was that movement?

  Grigory stared at the rocks. Something had moved along the right edge.

  He swung the motorcycle several meters to his right so he could see more of the area behind the rocks.

  While no one was running through the desert, he did see an SUV that had just entered the valley through the ring of rocks along the rim. It seemed to be heading to the same place he was. The intruders’ getaway vehicle, no doubt. But he was closer.

  He leaned forward and increased his speed, wanting to give himself as much time as possible at the rocks before he would need to leave. He wasn’t concerned about the chase that would happen after. Even with Brunner on the seat behind him, his bike would be considerably more mobile than the SUV, and in no time he’d be free of these assholes.

  About fifty meters from the rocks, he sped through a shallow dip and caught some air on his way out. He prepared to increase his speed as soon as he hit the ground, but the moment his wheels touched dirt, something dinged off the bike near his knee.

  He glanced down but couldn’t see any damage. Maybe it had just been a stone kicked up by his tire, or— A bullet whizzed by his head.

  He jerked the handlebars to the left, sending a curtain of dirt skyward, and nearly catapulting himself off the bike.

  Another bullet smacked into the motorcycle’s rear wheel.

  He sped back to the dip in the land and jumped off as he lay the bike down, throwing himself on the ground. He unstrapped the rifle and crawled up the slope until he could see the rocks, figuring that’s where the shots had come from.

  But no gun barrels were sticking out from the rocks.

  He shuffled back down and crawled to his right several meters. After sneaking back to the top, he scanned the rocks again. At first, it seemed as if there was still nothing there, but then a small bump moved along the edge of one of the rocks.

  He aimed and fired.

  His shot hit the rock, sending up a cloud of rock chips and dust that momentarily obscured his view. It was short of its target, but not by much.

  He fired again, aiming a bit higher this time. If the arm or leg or whatever body part he’d seen had still been there, he would have hit it, but he heard no shout of pain.

  Three bullets flew over his head, coming from the same side of the formation, but lower, the shooter likely lying on the ground. He fired a couple of return shots, then glanced past the rocks toward the approaching SUV.

  It would be only another couple of minutes before it arrived, and he’d be seriously outgunned.

  He needed to get Brunner now.

  All the shots had come from the same side of the rocks. Maybe he could get at them from the other side, grab the scientist, and be gone before the SUV arrived. They’d never be able to catch him then.

  He glanced back at the base. No sign of anyone else up top yet.

  He returned his gaze to the rocks.

  Now or never.

  He ducked and crawled back to his bike.

  “We’re taking fire,” Orlando said.

  Quinn took his eyes off the terrain only long enough to scan for the motorcyclist. “I don’t see him. Where is he?”

  “In a ditch about fifty meters north of us.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn saw Nate raise binoculars.

  “I see the top of a head,” Nate said.

  “Any reinforcements?” Quinn asked.

  A pause. “No one else heading this way.”

  Quinn caught Kincaid’s attention in the rearview mirror. “Grab that rifle.”

  Grigory rose to a crouch, pulled his motorcycle upright, and lifted his head just high enough to see above the edge of the dip. Everything at the rock appeared to be quiet.

  He swung onto the seat, started the engine, and gunned it out of the ditch. Hearing a noise above the sound of his motor, he glanced to the right and saw the SUV had stopped on the other side of the rocks. Several people were outside, huddled next to the hood.

  Good. That meant he had even more time. He increased his speed to put the rock between him and the SUV sooner.

  Some dirt kicked up in front of the bike. Then that sound again.

  Shit! They were shooting at him.

  A few more seconds and he’d be hidden by the rocks.

  He could make it. He was sure of it.

  This was his lucky day, after all.

  Kincaid had insisted on taking the shot.

  “I’m responsible for this happening,” he’d said. “I need to end it.”

  He used the Land Cruiser’s hood to steady the rifle and took aim as Krylov sped out of the depression he’d been hiding in.

  Kincaid took in a breath, let it halfway out, and pulled the trigger.

  The bullet came up short, hitting the ground behind Krylov.

  Kincaid fired again, this time too far in front.

  “He’s going to be behind the rocks soo
n,” Nate said.

  “Perhaps I should try,” Quinn suggested.

  “One more,” Kincaid said, not moving.

  “Okay. One more.”

  Kincaid put the fleeing kidnapper in his sights again, then compensated for where the bastard would be when the bullet reached him. He let out his breath again, holding it halfway through, and pulled the trigger.

  As soon as Grigory had Brunner, he’d head across the valley toward Lonely Rock. The bag Tiana had given him was over there somewhere. Inside was a map and food. He’d use the former to avoid any settlements and ride straight for the Russian border. It wasn’t that far away, maybe a hundred kilometers at most. Once there, he could figure out a way across it.

  Then he would only need to find a—

  Something hit him hard in the neck.

  He flew off the bike and hit the ground, with enough momentum to tumble half a dozen times before coming to rest on his stomach.

  His first thought was that his tire had been shot out.

  His second thought was, Why is my mouth full of liquid?

  He touched his neck then drew his hand back. It was covered in blood.

  He tried to breathe, but air was struggling to get around the blood in his mouth.

  He spit as much out as he could and was able to breathe again.

  He knew it wouldn’t last, though.

  Images played through his mind. A house in the country. Parties with friends. Women. And drink. And all the pleasures he would never have.

  His eyes popped open as he coughed, his mouth having filled again. He’d fallen unconscious. For how long? A second? A minute? He had no idea. He only knew that if this was his end, he wanted to see it coming, not sleep through it.

  Somewhere nearby he heard metallic squeaking and the crunch of bush being pressed down. He tried to make sense of it, but his mind was no longer cooperating.

  After those sounds stopped, new ones took their place. Soft and almost rhythmic.

  He tried to suck in one more breath but it was no use. As the sky faded to black, he had one final, fleeting thought.

  Not quite the luckiest of days after all.

  Quinn, Nate, Daeng, and Kincaid approached Krylov.

  The kidnapper was lying on his back, his eyes open.

  “Is he dead?” Kincaid said.

  Quinn leaned down and checked the man’s pulse. “Yeah.”

  “So what do we do now? Bury him?”

  “This isn’t that kind of job.” Quinn turned and walked back to the Land Cruiser.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Nate was first out of the Land Cruiser when the SUV stopped next to the rocks.

  “Hey! Where are you guys?” he called.

  “Back here,” Orlando said.

  Nate jogged around the formation, and found Orlando and Brunner kneeling next to Jar, who was lying on the ground.

  He rushed up. “What happened?”

  “I am fine,” Jar said.

  She clearly was not fine. There was a gash on her left cheek being held in place by a couple of butterfly bandages, and drying blood running down to her jaw.

  Orlando was leaning over her, looking into Jar’s eye on that same side. “More,” she said to Brunner.

  He handed her a bottle of water that she poured into Jar’s eye. She then took another look. “I think that’s pretty much everything. How’s it feel?”

  Jar blinked a few times. “Not as scratchy.”

  “What about your vision?”

  “Better, but still blurry.”

  “Don’t worry too much about it. I’m sure it’s temporary.”

  “Will someone please tell me what happened?” Nate said.

  “One of Krylov’s shots hit the rock right in front of Jar and knocked some fragments into her face. Like she said, she’s fine.” Orlando looked back at Jar. “Though I do want you to see an eye doctor as soon as we get back.”

  “Can I get up now?” Jar asked.

  “Sure.”

  As Jar pushed up, Quinn came around the rock. “We should get going.” His eyes narrowed when he saw Jar. “Are you—”

  “Yes, I am okay.”

  “Good.” He paused. “I want you to know you did an excellent job today. If I ever question you in the future, feel free to remind me I said this.”

  She grinned. “Thank you. I will.”

  “I’m not sure he meant that literally,” Nate said.

  “Oh, I did,” Quinn corrected him. He turned to the others. “Dr. Brunner. Nice to finally meet you.” He held out a hand.

  As Brunner shook it, he said, “And who are you exactly?”

  “You can call me Quinn.”

  “He is our boss,” Jar said.

  Orlando sneered. “He’s not my boss.”

  “Everyone but her,” Quinn said. “So, can we get the hell out of here now, or do we need to take a vote?”

  They retrieved the Range Rover, and drove it and the Land Cruiser back to Ketovo.

  Nate and Kincaid were tasked with keeping an eye out for anyone coming after them, but no one showed up.

  Not long after they were underway, Orlando made two phone calls. The first was to the pilot of their jet, requesting that the plane return to Ketovo to pick them up. The second was to Misty.

  “We’ve got him,” Orlando said.

  “And he’s okay?” Misty asked.

  “A little rattled, but otherwise unharmed.”

  “Thank you. I’m not sure getting him back will be enough to keep me out of trouble, but it’ll help.”

  “I have something else that might help even more.”

  “Really? Do tell.”

  Orlando gave her a quick rundown of what the base was being used for, then described the capsule-like item Jar had taken from a storage room. “There are a lot more of them there. And who knows what else?”

  “Can you send me a picture?”

  “Of course.”

  The sun lay heavy on the horizon as the team arrived back at the Ketovo airfield.

  “The plane should be here in about forty-five minutes,” Orlando said.

  “Let’s get the gear out before any of our Ketovo friends show up,” Quinn said.

  “You want me to wake him?” Kincaid asked from the backseat.

  Brunner was sitting beside him, leaning against the door. Despite the undulating terrain, the scientist had drifted off within minutes of leaving Lonely Rock, and hadn’t woken since.

  “No,” Quinn said. “He needs the rest.”

  They let Brunner sleep until Daeng spotted the lights of their plane approaching the landing strip. As the jet touched down, headlights appeared on the road from town.

  “Deal with whoever it is,” Quinn said to Nate. “We’ll get everything on board.”

  The team had to wait only five minutes for Nate to rejoin them.

  “Arman,” Nate said as he strapped into his seat. “He didn’t expect us back so soon.”

  “Everything cool?”

  “Gave him the keys, slipped him another thousand euros. He’s a happy man.”

  Quinn pushed the button that turned on a mic connecting him to the pilot. “Ready when you are.”

  After they reached cruising altitude, Quinn went to the back and used the toilet. When he returned, he stopped at Brunner’s row. The scientist was sitting in the window seat, staring outside. Kincaid was beside him, resuming his role as bodyguard.

  “Dr. Brunner, we’re going to be in the air awhile,” Quinn said. “You may want to get some more sleep.”

  There was a slight delay before Brunner looked over. “I am sorry. Were you talking to me?”

  “I was just saying you should get some more sleep. It’ll be a few hours before we land.”

  Brunner, still dazed from the experience, said in a monotone voice, “Oh. Okay. I will.”

  Quinn started to walk away.

  “Mr. Quinn?”

  Quinn turned back.

  “I-I wanted to thank you,” Brunner said,
then raised his voice. “To thank everyone, for rescuing me. I…I thought I was dead.”

  “You’re more than welcome,” Quinn said. “But we didn’t do it on our own. You’ve got one very dedicated friend. Without her help, I don’t think we would have succeeded.”

  The scientist’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry? What friend?”

  “Danara.”

  The blood drained from the man’s face. “Who did you say?”

  “Your AI, Danara. She infiltrated the system at Lonely Rock and guided Jar to you, and helped the rest of us to make sure you were able to get out.”

  “No,” Brunner said, shaking his head. “No. That’s not possible. She’s contained on a server back in Switzerland.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Impossible. You would need a key.”

  “You mean one that looks like a thumb drive? With a biometrics scanner on the side?”

  The doctor stared at him, unable to speak.

  “We found one of those and stuck it into one of our computers.”

  “Wh-why would you do that?”

  “Because we were doing everything we could to try to save you,” Quinn said tersely. “We were hoping it had information that would assist us. Turns out it did, just not in the way we assumed.”

  “Dear God, do you realize what you have done?”

  “Of course we do.” The answer came not from Quinn but from Jar, in the next row up. She turned in her chair and propped up on her knees to see over the top. “We have released a sentient artificial intelligence from the prison she was being held in.”

  “Prison? She was not in a prison! What you have done is release a child into—”

  “If we had known of her existence, I am sure we would have done things differently,” Jar said. “But we did not. So, what is done is done. She is free now. Nothing is going to change that, so your anger is a waste of energy. If she is a child, Dr. Brunner, then your time would be better spent thinking of ways to help her become an adult.”

  “You should listen to her,” Danara said from the plane’s intercom system. “She is my friend.”