Kill Switch (9780062135285)

by Rollins, James; Blackwood, Grant

  He clung to that notion.

  You know this enemy.

  Tucker took a half-dozen calming breaths.

  You’re alive. Kane’s alive. Get it together and do what you came here for.

  Abruptly, Kane’s ears perked up, accompanied by a low growl meant only for his ears.

  Rustling rose from the tunnel.

  He motioned for Kane to stay.

  Clicking off his headlamp, he grabbed his rifle, rose to his knees, and found a break in the sandbags to peer through. Using his night-vision scope, he spied a Spetsnaz soldier edging toward the mouth of the tunnel, cautious, likely hearing the gunplay from a moment ago.

  Tucker waited until he reached the tunnel’s end and shot him in the head. He followed it with a continuous barrage of fire into the tunnel to keep the others at bay. While doing this, he crossed forward, high-stepping the sandbags, knowing what he needed from the dead soldier.

  He reached the corpse, clicking on his headlamp, and pulled the dead man’s torso to the side.

  Enemy fire blasted out of the tunnel, but he kept away from the direct line of sight. He quickly stripped off the man’s portable radio. That’s all he intended to grab, but he got greedy and yanked a couple of grenades off the man’s tactical harness. He shoved the pilfered pair into his pocket—then he grabbed a third, pulled the pin, and threw it down the tunnel.

  And ran.

  He vaulted over the first wall of sandbags, stopping only long enough to yank the hidden flare’s ignition loop, setting it sputtering to life. As he rolled over the second barrier, he dropped flat.

  The grenade exploded, the flash bright in the darkness, the noise deafening.

  Tucker gained his knees, stared back as smoke poured out, along with a sift of fine sand. The tunnel hadn’t collapsed, but it would certainly discourage any more soldiers from coming through for a time.

  Gathering Kane to his side, he fled across the Cathedral, his wounded leg on fire. By the time he reached the twin tunnels, his sock on that side was damp with blood. Exhausted, he reached the twin tunnels and sank to his rear with Kane.

  Calling over his shoulder down the tunnel, he shouted. “Christopher!”

  The young man appeared a moment later and knelt beside Tucker. “You are hurt.”

  “And Anya is dead. I’ll take that deal. By the way, how did she get loose?”

  “When Bukolov returned, I had to help him out of the hole. She came at us then. Caught us by surprise. She knocked me down and attacked Bukolov with an old bayonet she must have picked up. She tried to cut away the doctor’s specimen collection kit and steal it. But he fought and the bag ripped open, scattering bulbs and sample dishes across the floor. She did succeed in grabbing Bukolov’s gun. By the time I got to my rifle and fired at her, she was already running and gone.”

  “But how did she get loose to begin with?”

  “Among her ropes, I found the ripped remains of her cast.”

  Tucker nodded slowly. During his fight with her, he hadn’t noticed her cast was missing. While tying her up, he had bound her good wrist to her cast. He should’ve known better, but he never imagined her to be that tough and stoic. It had to be extremely painful to get the cast off, yet she showed not the slightest wince or bead of sweat.

  With her back against the stalagmite and her hands hidden behind her, she must have slowly—using the fingers of her other hand and the rock’s hard surface—broken through the plaster and worked the cast free. Afterward, she was able to tug her hands through the loose rope. From there, it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment to act.

  “I’m sorry,” Christopher said.

  “Nothing to be sorry about. She was scary good. But I need a few things: two of the five-second chemical detonators and the first-aid kit.”

  As Christopher disappeared into the tunnel, Tucker put on the stolen headset and keyed the radio. “General Kharzin, come in. Are you there?”

  There were a few seconds of silence, then a harsh voice answered. “This is Kharzin. I assume I am talking to Tucker Wayne?”

  “That’s right. I want to negotiate. We can all leave here with what we want.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Against my advice, Bukolov wants to make a deal. A trade. Some of the LUCA samples for our lives.”

  “He has it then?” Kharzin asked. “He’s found the source?”

  “Almost,” he lied. “He’s in the tunnel digging as we speak. He sounds confident of success.”

  “Give me a few minutes to consider your offer.”

  That was a lie, too.

  Tucker needed to teach the Russian a lesson before they could really talk.

  Christopher reappeared, carrying the items Tucker had requested. “Thanks. Follow me.”

  He regained his feet and hobbled up the tiered steps to the right and dropped into the old Boer foxhole. He moved fifty yards along it. Christopher followed, carrying the supplies.

  Once settled, Tucker pointed across the Cathedral to the small red glow, “Do you see the burning flare over there?”

  “Barely, but yes.”

  “Put your rifle scope on the shaft entrance beyond it and tell me if you see anything.”

  With Christopher guarding, Tucker slit open his pant leg around the wound, then ripped open a QuikClot package from the first-aid kit and pressed it to the bullet gouge. He clenched his teeth against the burn and wrapped a pressure bandage around his thigh and knotted it in place.

  He then took out the remaining half block of C-4 from his pocket. He divided what was left into two equal pieces. He returned one to his pocket, then shaped the other into a deadly pancake and carefully inserted a chemical detonator in its center. He passed the bomb over to Christopher.

  “This half we’ll use to blow the artillery shells.”

  “Hold on . . .” Christopher whispered. “I see movement. Two men, I think.”

  “Good. I’ll take over. Take the C-4 back to the cavern and wait for me.”

  As he left, Tucker lifted his rifle and peered through the scope. A pair of Spetsnaz soldiers crouched at the entrance of the blasted shaft. They were in full body armor, weapons ready. Beyond them, another soldier crept out . . . and another. The last one carried an RPG launcher. An arm waved, preparing for a sweep of the cavern.

  As if on cue, Kharzin’s voice came over Tucker’s headset. “Mr. Wayne, I have given your proposal some thought.”

  “And?”

  “What assurances do I have that you will keep your word?”

  “Hmm . . . good question.” Tucker adjusted his aim on the flaming flare, then lifted the crosshairs to where he had hidden the Rover’s gas can. “This is my answer.”

  He squeezed the trigger. As the round struck the can, gasoline jetted from the bullet’s holes, ran down to the flaming flare—and ignited. With a whoosh, flames engulfed the back of the Cathedral. The soldiers began screaming. Orange backlit shadows danced on the walls. After a few seconds, the screaming stopped.

  Tucker spoke into his headset. “You heard?”

  “Yes, I heard.”

  Kharzin had to learn this lesson. It was the Russian way. From his prior employment with Bogdan Fedoseev, Tucker knew how the general would respond to the inherent weakness expressed by Tucker’s offer. As expected, he would try to gain the upper hand by force, to test how weak his opponent actually was.

  Now he knew.

  “General, I’ve had twelve hours to turn this place into a death trap for you and your men. If you want to keep sending your boys in, I’ll be happy to keep killing them. But I don’t think you came with a limitless supply.”

  “You set me up.”

  Tucker heard a note of respect buried in the outrage.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  Kharzin hesitated, then sighed. “We have a deal. What are your terms?”

  “Let me check Doctor Bukolov’s progress. I’ll get back to you in ten minutes. Cross me again, General, and things will really
start to get ugly. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “One last thing. Is Felice Nilsson with you?”

  “And if she is?”

  “She’s part of the bargain. I want her.”

  “Why?”

  “Take a guess.”

  “Well, as it happens, she’s not with us. She had another assignment. And speaking of personnel, I want Anya returned untouched.”

  Tucker heard more than mere professional concern for a colleague in the Russian’s voice. This was a personal matter for the general.

  He knew better than to tell the truth.

  “That can be arranged,” he said.

  “Then we have a deal.”

  “Stay by your radio, General.”

  Tucker signed off and hopped back down, one painful step at a time.

  Though the back of the Cathedral still burned, he dared not leave his rear unguarded. He pressed his forehead to Kane’s. “Sorry, buddy, but I need to ask even more from you.”

  Kane wagged his tail.

  He pointed to the flames. “HOLD. WATCH.”

  The shepherd dropped to his belly and stared across the cavern, ready to watch for any further intrusions.

  Ever his guardian.

  12:55 A.M.

  As Tucker limped back into the cave, Bukolov and Christopher joined him, both clearly wanting to know what the plan was from here.

  “Have you secured your samples, Doc?”

  “Yes, they’re packed away. What now?”

  “I told Kharzin we’re willing to make a deal. We’d trade half of the LUCA samples for our lives.” Bukolov opened his mouth to protest, but Tucker held up a hand. “I’m stalling for time. There are only two ways out of here. One we can’t climb out since I pulled that rope. And the other is crawling with Spetsnaz. So we’re going to have to make a third.”

  “How?” Christopher asked.

  “Do you remember the first spot we dug—on the ravine wall outside?”

  Both men nodded.

  Tucker pointed across the cavern. “It’s right on the other side of that wall. I estimate it’s only three or four feet thick . . . mostly soft sandstone.”

  Bukolov looked there in dismay. “It would take us hours to dig—”

  Tucker pulled the square of C-4 from his pocket. “But only seconds to blast through.”

  “Would that work?” Christopher said. “Truly?”

  “It’s our only shot.”

  So they all set to work. Tucker unfolded and handed Christopher one of the shovels and instructed him to dig a hole four feet off the ground, as deep as he could make it.

  As he labored, Tucker prepared the new charge and handed the C-4 patty to Bukolov. “Gently, Doctor. It’s live. Just go stand by Christopher.”

  He then collected the first bomb he’d prepared earlier and planted it down the hole among the artillery shells.

  With everything in motion, Tucker limped back over to the Cathedral and joined Kane. He put on his headset and keyed the radio. “General, are you there?”

  After a few long seconds, he responded. “I am here.”

  “Bukolov has the samples.”

  “Good news.”

  “How many vehicles do you have?”

  “Two.”

  “We’re going to want one of them.”

  “I understand, considering the fate of your original vehicle.” He heard the residual anger in the man’s voice.

  So at least his ruse with the Rover had worked.

  Tucker asked, “Are both vehicles at the entrance to the cave?”

  He pictured the SUV from earlier, parked in the canyon by the back door. As far as the Russian knew, that was the only entrance.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. We have wounded in here. Give me a few more minutes to get ourselves together, then I’ll signal you to come in. You may bring two of your men as guards. So we’re all on equal footing. I don’t want any surprises. We’ll make the trade in here, then you and all your men will get in one vehicle and drive off. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. And you’ll have Anya ready to travel.”

  “Yes. Stand by.”

  Tucker left Kane on guard and returned to the cavern. Bukolov was leaning against the wall, cradling the C-4 patty in his hands. “I am not enjoying this, Tucker.”

  “Hang in there. Christopher, how’s it coming?”

  Christopher stopped digging. “See for yourself. To be honest, I don’t think we need that explosive. The sandstone is crumbling almost faster than I can chop at it.”

  Tucker examined the hole. It was already more than two feet deep.

  “You’re right. Over time, the moisture from this chamber must have weakened the stone, softening it. Keep going—but gently. I don’t want to punch through quite yet. Doc, are you packed and ready to go?”

  “I’m ready, but what am I going to do with this?” He raised the C-4 in his palms.

  “It’s okay to lay the C-4 patty down at your feet, just don’t step on.”

  “I will step gingerly from here.”

  “Tucker, I am almost through!” Christopher called.

  Tucker returned to his side and used a chisel to punch a hole through the wall. He pressed his ear to the opening and listened for half a minute. Satisfied no one was in this canyon, he widened the hole and peered out. Kharzin had all his men in the other gorge, guarding what he believed was the only entrance.

  “Okay, everyone keep your voices low from here. We don’t want to turn any heads in this direction.” He turned to Christopher. “Go ahead and widen the hole as quietly as you can, just large enough for both of you to climb through. Then I want you to take the packs and Kane and hightail it away from here; stay hidden and keep moving east. Kane can help you. I’ll catch up and find you once I’m finished here.”

  “What are you going to do?” Bukolov said.

  “I’m going to keep Kharzin looking at me, while you all make your escape. After that, I’m going to drop your C-4 patty down with the one I already planted among those artillery shells and run like hell. When those babies blow, this whole cavern will collapse in on itself.”

  Christopher whispered, “I’m finished.”

  “Then it’s time for you all to vacate the premises.”

  Tucker helped gather their packs and drop them through the opening and out into the chilly night. He also gathered up Bukolov’s abandoned bomb and repositioned it close to the hole in the floor.

  With everything ready, he used the video feed on his phone to check on Kane, staring at the screen. All looked quiet out in the Cathedral, so he touched his mike and summoned his partner back to his side.

  He gave Kane a warm greeting, then passed his phone to Christopher. “No matter what happens to me, keep hiking to last night’s campsite and wait for your brothers. Once you’re safely back over the border, hit number one on the speed-dial and ask for Harper. Tell her what’s happened and she’ll take it from there.”

  “I will.”

  “And take care of Kane.”

  “Tucker—”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise. He’ll be like another brother to me.”

  “I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

  Christopher extended his hand, shook Tucker’s, then clambered through the hole and dropped low outside.

  “Now you, Doctor,” Tucker said.

  Without warning, Bukolov wrapped Tucker in a bear hug. “I will see you out there, yes?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  As Bukolov climbed out, Tucker knelt beside Kane. “You’ve done enough here, buddy,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m going to do this last part by myself.”

  Kane cocked his head and stared into Tucker’s eyes. A soft whine flowed to him; he plainly sensed what was to come.

  Tucker stood again and whispered, “Christopher, are you there?”

  “I’m here.”

  He lifted Kane in his arms, gave him a final long squeeze
, then guided him through the hole and into Christopher’s waiting hands.

  “I have him, Tucker. Good luck.”

  “You, too.”

  He waited for three minutes, making sure no shouts of alarm were raised as the others fled. He took an extra moment to cover the hole with a scrap of khaki tent canvas, securing the upper corners with duct tape. He didn’t want the moonlight shining through the new window, giving away the ruse when he entertained guests in a few minutes.

  He then crossed back to the Cathedral and tugged back on the radio headset. He kept his headlamp off, standing in the pitch darkness.

  “General Kharzin.”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “You can come in.”

  “We are on our way.”

  1:58 A.M.

  Keeping watch, Tucker raised his rifle and peered through the night-vision scope. After two minutes, the greenish haze of lights bloomed on the far side. Moments later, three men appeared. From their body posture, he could register the horror of finding the charred remains of their comrades. The trio stepped over the sandbags, only to discover Anya’s body. They knelt there even longer, clearly calling for someone to collect her. Then they started across the Cathedral floor.

  When they reached the halfway point, Tucker shouted, “Stop there.”

  The men halted.

  Into his headset, Tucker said, “General, you’re—”

  The pain in the other’s voice cut him off. “You told me Anya was still alive!”

  “Let’s call it even.”

  “It’ll never be even. Never. She was my daughter.”

  Shocked by this revelation, Tucker felt a sickening twist in his gut. He remembered Anya talking about her father. He could still hear the buried pain in her words: My father was in the Russian Army. He was a . . . a hard man.

  Tucker now wondered how much of that pain was feigned. He could only imagine what it was like to grow up with a father like Kharzin, to be used and groomed to be little more than a finely honed tool. He remembered that it had been Anya who had first suggested to Bukolov that she pretend to be the doctor’s daughter. Perhaps that ruse had its roots here. To keep things easy, Anya simply shifted the lie about one father to another.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Kharzin said.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, General. I truly am. And you certainly can come after me, but for now, do you want revenge or your LUCA samples?”