by Cliff Ryder
And that was a mission he could believe in. Even if it meant his own death.
The two groups came to a stop about ten feet apart and spent several long seconds staring at each other — assessing strengths, searching for weaknesses.
Jason spoke first. "Boris," he said, using English, "I've missed you. I did get a chance to meet your brother, however. I did give him my very best."
"For that," Boris replied in Russian, "if for nothing else, I will kill you."
The cold spark of anger flared toward uncontrollable rage. That was good, Jason knew, and one of the reasons he taunted those he was about to fight.
Rage burned hot, but it caused mistakes in combat. Only in a state of cold calm could one avoid the mistakes that led to death.
He flicked his eyes in the direction of Feng Li. The man was lean, with sharp, almost pinched features. His stance was one of loose readiness, and his dark-brown eyes were frozen — his was the look of a predator, a man who knew how to fight and kill. "You must be Feng Li," Jason said. "I heard you were dead."
Feng Li grinned and there was a white flash of teeth. They almost looked pointed. He offered a small half bow from the waist. "You are correct, Mr. Siku. I was dead. The sniper sent by Mr. Talbot made a mistake, however, leaving me in the jungle so quickly. The ancient medicines of my home country were able to bring me back." He offered the shark's grin once more. "I do not think you will be so lucky, here in the frozen wasteland of Alaska."
"I promise you, Feng," Jason replied, "that as soon as I'm done killing Boris here, I will be a lot more thorough than that sniper was."
"We do appear to have a problem," Feng said. "You are three and we are two. Would you have our fight be unfair?"
"I don't think…" Jason began, but Feng's hand moved in a sudden blur, producing a small-frame Glock, aiming and firing it so quickly that it cut off the rest of his sentence, like some strange form of punctuation.
He heard a pained gasp from behind him and spun. Tina's face was ashen, and blood blossomed like a winter rose high on her chest. She staggered back a step, then sat down in the snow. Jason knelt down beside her. "Tina?"
"I think…" she began, her voice a whisper. "Going to faint."
Jason clasped her hand and said, "Just hold on." He got to his feet and turned his attention back to Feng. "This won't take long," he finished.
He heard her fall over, knew she was unconscious. He pushed his fear for her aside. "She wasn't a threat to you," he said.
"All of my dead soldiers downstairs would disagree," Feng replied, "if they had the voice to do so. The dead are silent in this place."
"Well," Jesse finally spoke, "I'm all for you shutting up." He leaped forward, diving at Feng's legs and hitting him in the knees. They went rolling through the snow and the grass — Jesse trying to use his greater weight to keep Feng pinned on the ground, Feng fighting to get to his feet where he could do more damage.
Jason turned his attention to Boris just in time to see the massive man closing in on him. He stepped sideways, driving a knee into the man's midsection. It felt like a brick wall, but he followed through on the move, slamming an elbow into the back of the man's skull.
Boris staggered a step or two, then spun to face him. He really did resemble a bear, Jason thought, skipping backward. "You hit pretty hard for such a small man," the Russian said.
"Yeah, your brother mentioned that," Jason said, dancing out of reach. "Right before I killed him."
That did it, he saw. The ice had turned to fire. Boris roared and came at him again, catching him with a shoulder in the ribs. The world spun as he was lifted into the air, then flashed by in a moonlit blur as he was slammed into the ground. The air left his lungs with an audible sound, but he found the strength to roll away.
Speed and agility were his best allies in this fight. If Boris got hold of him, he might just snap him in two, like a human pretzel.
Still snarling, the Russian followed after him.
Jason gained his feet, ignoring the pain in his battered rib cage, and caught Boris with a roundhouse kick square in the jaw. He staggered, spitting blood, then surged forward once more.
Jason moved away, circling, waiting for an opening. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Feng gain his feet, and felt a surge of pride for his brother who'd held him down for so long. The pride quickly turned to concern, however, when he saw Jesse staggering.
He looked as if he'd been in a threshing machine. Blood ran from his nose, mouth and ears. Feng wasn't fighting him. He was toying with him.
"Come on, you little rice cake," Jesse said, his chest heaving with exertion. "You call that fighting? We've got a village grandmother that hits harder than you." Sadly, Jason could see that his brother's words were bravado, and he would be quickly spent.
The slight diversion of his attention was all Boris needed, however, and he turned back to his own battle in time to feel the Russian's arms wrap around him and lift him off his feet.
"I will crush you like a grape," he said as he squeezed.
This time, Jason knew he had broken ribs because he felt them give beneath Boris's arms. Pain shot through him, running up his spine and slamming into his skull. Lights flashed before his eyes.
Acting on instinct, he raised his arms and brought his hands down as hard as he could on the man's ears. Boris grunted, staggered, but held on.
Jason did it again, and this time, he felt the Russian's hold on him loosen. Off balance and deafened, Boris dropped him to the ground. He backed away, shaking his head.
Gritting his teeth, Jason closed in. He needed to end this and quickly.
Boris saw him coming and tried to move away, but his strength wasn't speed. Jason moved with him, grasped his left wrist and twisted and yanked the big man toward him. Using all the muscle he had, he spun and smashed his own elbow into the Russian's. It broke with a dry snap and Boris screeched in pain, going to his knees.
End it now, Jason thought. He circled around and drove a snap kick into the huge man's nose, driving his head up and leaving his throat exposed. Dropping down, he planted a knife hand into his opponent's throat, trying to crush his larynx.
But Boris wasn't quite finished and managed to duck his head down, taking the blow on the mouth instead. He drove an uppercut into Jason's chin with enough force to send him flying through the air and managed to gain his feet. He wasn't steady, but the man was a machine. He would keep fighting as long as he could.
Jason lay on the ground, trying to catch his breath when he saw Boris's shadow looming over him. Still deafened, the man was shouting as he said, "Now you will die!"
Rolling, Jason lashed out, sweeping the man's legs out from underneath him. Already lacking balance, he toppled to the ground.
Knowing that time was getting more precious by the second, he leaped to his feet, then jumped in the air, coming down on the man's sternum with his elbow. He heard a faint crack as it broke beneath the force of the blow.
Jason got up and did it again before Boris could catch his wind. This time, the bone shattered completely. The Russian coughed weakly, blood flowing out of his mouth. His lungs had been pierced by the bones and he couldn't breathe.
Getting up once more, Jason looked down at him and said, "You're done." He pulled his combat knife from the sheath at his boot. The blade's edge glittered faintly as he grasped it firmly and drove it into the Russian's heart. He twisted it, shredding the big muscle.
Boris shuddered once beneath him, then died, unable to speak whatever hateful final words he might have said. He had joined his brother in whatever hell awaited them.
Jason climbed slowly to his feet, feeling as if he'd been through a threshing machine himself. He really did prefer a clean assassination mission. One shot, one kill, move on. "Damn complications," he muttered, turning to where he knew Feng and Jesse were fighting.
His eyes widened as he saw the Chinese man twist away from a clumsy lunge and come in behind Jesse. His arms circled Jesse's neck and their g
azes met for a brief moment, then Feng snapped his neck with one easy move.
Time seemed to slow as Feng released his hold and Jesse toppled over into the cold snow, dead before he hit the ground.
Feng didn't even look all that winded, though it appeared as though Jesse had given a good battle. Blood trickled from a cut on his lip and even in the dim light, Jason could tell that Feng was favoring his left side slightly.
"And then there were two," the rogue agent said, straightening his lean frame. "He fought well, for a civilian. A pleasant enough diversion."
"I'm going to kill you, Feng," Jason said, his blood turning to ice. He felt nothing. His brother was dead. Tina probably was, too. People he cared about, the closest thing he would ever have to a family, and he felt nothing. "If it's the last thing I do, I'm taking you with me to hell."
Moving forward with catlike grace, Feng smiled once more. "Better men than you have tried, Mr. Siku. For the destruction you have brought down upon my little operation here, I promise you a painfully slow death."
"Bring it, then," he said, circling away from the man and gauging his opponent. "Let's find out if you're really as good as they say you are. My guess is your reputation is probably a little bloated."
"I promise you, Mr. Siku," Feng said. "I am better."
The real fight, Jason knew, was about to begin.
And worse, he realized something else as the distance between them closed. Feng was better than he was and he was about to die. So be it, he thought. But I won't make it easy for him. Not by any measure.
Feng suddenly leaped into the air, and Jason met him halfway.
22
Spinning wheel kicks sliced through the air, and Jason stepped inside of them, taking one on the shoulder but driving a hard right into Feng's inner thigh. Instead of tumbling to the ground, however, the Chinese man sprang backward, landing on his hands, then flipping once more to right himself.
He didn't pause, but drove forward again, and Jason found himself backing up, blocking twice as many punches as he was able to throw. His opponent was rattlesnake fast and knew where to place each blow to cause the most pain and damage.
Trying to give a little in return, Jason gave up on blocking and stepped into a punch that caught him directly on the cheekbone below his right eye. The pain was excruciating, but worth it as he managed to put a knife hand into Feng's left collarbone. It wasn't enough to break it, but there was at least a crack, and the Chinese man backed off once more.
Remembering that Feng was favoring his left side, Jason pressed the attack, aiming for Feng's ribs this time and driving a hard kick into his side. Feng danced away, but not fast enough to avoid it entirely. He increased the distance between them and began to circle.
"You fight well, Mr. Siku," Feng said. "Better than I expected, considering your condition."
"I'm tougher than I look," Jason said, turning and moving to his left.
"You already know you cannot beat me," Feng said. "I can see that knowledge in your eyes."
"Maybe, maybe not," he said. "But even if I can't, I can hurt you. Maybe hurt you bad enough for you to crawl back under your rock for a while."
Feng laughed softly. "You would die an extremely unhappy man should you fail. Your life is all about the mission. I know — I lived it once."
Jason nodded. "So I've heard. Still, the charm of all this punching and kicking has worn off." He reached behind his back and removed two push daggers from his belt. They weren't his favorite weapon, but they required him to get up close and personal. Feng was a little less dangerous when he wasn't leaping and spinning through the air like some kind of tiger.
"Weapons, Mr. Siku?" Feng said. "I am disappointed in you. I thought we were going to do this the old-fashioned way."
"Screw the old-fashioned way," Jason spit. "I'd rather just kill you and move on with my day." He lunged forward, capturing Feng's right arm in a twist lock. He jabbed his right hand forward, but Feng twisted, and the blow slipped off the flexible body armor he was wearing beneath his clothing.
Using his left arm, Feng wrapped Jason's right, twisted sharply and dislocated his elbow. The dagger in that hand fell from nerveless fingers and he tried to move, but the Chinese man was faster, slamming his forehead into Jason's nose, breaking it with a horrible crunching sound.
He stepped back, leaped into the air and slammed both feet into Jason's chest.
"That sounded painful," Feng said, circling once more, even as Jason struggled to get to his feet. Blood poured from his shattered nose, and pain radiated from his elbow in sickening waves. "I promised you it would be slow. I am a man of my word."
Spitting blood and staining the snow, Jason managed to get to his knees and then his feet. With no way to put his right elbow back in place, he knew he was in deep trouble. That was his primary hand and now it was useless.
He spit once more and realized that in the last exchange, he'd dropped both his weapons. "Guess we're back to the old-fashioned way," he said. "Sure you don't prefer pistols at ten paces?"
"I enjoy the personal touch of hand-to-hand combat," Feng said. "Don't you?"
"Not as much as I once did," Jason admitted. He began to circle once more, looking for an opening of some kind, any kind that would let him harm this killing machine. Even as Feng tried to close the gap once more, Jason moved away, letting patience be his guide. In truth, he didn't have much left in him and he felt as if the next exchange would end it — one way or the other.
Feng leaped into the air once more and Jason feinted to his left, then moved right. Unable to adjust, Feng landed awkwardly, just enough to put him off balance. Seeing his opportunity, Jason made his move and closed the gap.
Screaming in pain, Jason forced both arms forward, driving his fingers beneath the man's floating ribs on each side. He grabbed them with his remaining strength and yanked as hard as he could. His right hand slipped away, but the left held and he felt the rib break. He released it, then tried to back away, but it was too late.
Truly angry, Feng grabbed his right arm and twisted him around once more. Jason felt the loop of wire slip around his neck, and tighten, cutting off his air supply.
"A very nice move," Feng hissed in his ear. "My left lung will be punctured on my next breath."
Jason tried to reply, but with no air and the wire getting tighter and tighter, he couldn't force out the words. Lights began to swirl in his vision, and he knew it was over.
He heard Feng inhale, then gasp in pain as the broken rib bone turned inward, stabbing into his left lung. It was a shame he didn't manage to get both of them. That might have been enough to change the outcome.
"Goodbye, Mr. Siku," Feng said, the wire tightening even more. "You lose."
"No, he doesn't," a voice said.
Jason felt Feng's body tense, heard the unmistakable sound of a harpoon gun, and suddenly he was free. He slumped to the ground and rolled. Behind him, Feng stood, staring in horror at the long harpoon sticking out of his shoulder.
Searching the darkness, Jason spotted Tanuk standing nearby. Behind him, lights began to flicker as more and more people became visible. By all appearances, the old man had brought half the village population with him.
Slowly, Jason struggled to his feet. His right arm hung useless at his side, and blood continued to drip from his nose. His throat burned with each breath of icy air he took. Nothing had ever felt quite so good.
"You were saying?" Jason gasped.
Tanuk moved to his side, helping to hold him up.
Feng stared at Jason as though trying to figure out a particularly difficult puzzle, then he began to back away, moving slowly toward the helicopter. "This is not over, Mr. Siku," he said. He grasped the harpoon, groaning in pain as it tore muscle and scraped bone, but he managed to get it free. He tossed it on the ground. "Men like us do not like leaving enemies behind."
Sinking to his knees, Jason looked at Tanuk. "Quickly," he rasped. Blood vessels had been ruptured in his throat, and he spi
t, trying to clear his airway. "In the back of the SUV. There's a green metal case, rectangular. Get it for me."
"Let him go, son," Tanuk said. "We need to get you to a hospital."
Jason shook his head and his eyes blazed. "Get it now."
Tanuk moved away, and Jason watched as Feng tried to climb into the Asp. His battered body wasn't cooperating very well, and he had to pull himself inside the helicopter and crawl into the pilot's seat. He rested for a moment, leaning his head back. Jason knew that the rogue agent was losing a lot of blood, but the man was tough as nails. He needed to be stopped, here and now, before he could do any more damage.
He heard a stirring behind him and saw Tanuk and another man carrying the case toward him. Feng began the start-up sequence, and the Asp's nearly silent engines began to cycle. "Hurry," he told them.
They set the case on the ground and all of them began to open the latches. Inside, cradled in foam, was a Russian-made Kornet-E antitank weapon. It was the infantry model, which used a laser-guided warhead. In combat, they could be used to penetrate concrete barriers and take out ground units who dug in behind protective shields. Inside the case were three warheads.
Lifting the Kornet out of the foam, Jason got it loaded, but putting it on his shoulder proved to be a bit too much. That collarbone was definitely cracked or broken. "Help me," he ordered Tanuk. "Get it on my shoulder."
The old man helped him lift it, while in the distance, Feng finished the start-up sequence. The Asp's rotors began to turn, and the blades started to spin rapidly as he prepared to take off. Looking through the glass, he saw what Jason was doing and started to lift off.
Flicking the switch to turn on the laser guidance system, Jason said, "Get everyone out of the way. I don't want anyone hit with the back blast."
Tanuk turned and started yelling for everyone to move.
Jason peered through the optic sight, and for a moment, his gaze met Feng's. The Chinese man nodded in acknowledgment, gaining altitude. He was perhaps fifty feet off the ground when Jason fired the rocket.