by Dirk Patton
Igor raised his middle finger, then it was time to get serious. The two men spread fifty yards apart to set up an overlapping field of fire, then each settled in behind thick tree trunks. The SEAL carried a suppressed American rifle and still had a good supply of loaded magazines. He also kept the Russian AK rifle Igor had taken from the dead guards and half a dozen spare mags. With an unsuppressed AK, Igor would only join the fight if necessary.
The Hind was still orbiting, shining its spot down through the trees as it searched for them, but both knew there was little chance they’d be located from the air. The problem would be if Igor had to open up with his rifle, which would make a hell of a racket. It wouldn’t be difficult for the guards to identify his position and radio it to the helicopter. At that point, the gunship would rain hell down on him.
Neither man expected to survive the next ten minutes. There was no help coming. They were trapped by an enemy with both ground and air assets. If they had a weapon that could have brought down the helo, there was a better than even chance they could defeat or evade the pursuers that were on foot. But they didn’t, and that meant the best hope was to take as many of the guards with them as possible. Both intended to make their lives very expensive.
They didn’t have to wait long for the first group of trackers to come into view. A single handler with a pair of dogs led the way, three more guards close on his heels. Unlike the first group they’d encountered, these men were alert and obviously frightened. This told both warriors a lot about what they were facing.
The men were accustomed to dealing with prisoners. And it was rare that one of those inmates was a hardened criminal. Typically, they were the intellectual type, even the young ones having no idea how to fight. If they did, they’d almost certainly been cowed by the brutal justice system before they arrived at the camp. Men like that didn’t stand up or pose much of a physical threat to the guards.
But this was different. They’d almost assuredly come across their comrades’ corpses. Had noted that despite the added security of four dogs, none of them had survived the encounter with their prey. Igor knew this without having to give it any thought and recognized the advantage they had. Catching Strickland’s eye, he signaled for the SEAL to take out the dogs.
A moment later, there were two rapid coughs from his suppressed rifle. In quick succession, the dogs tumbled into the snow and lay still. The guards froze for a beat, then one of them pulled and held the trigger on his rifle, emptying an entire magazine into the trees where he’d thought the fire had come from. None of the bullets came close.
The guards turned and began hurrying away, but Igor saw one of them raise what had to be a radio to his mouth. Leaping to his feet, he signed to the SEAL and they ran deeper into the forest. As they ran, the pitch of the Hind’s rotor noise changed. The pilot was repositioning and coming into a hover over the bodies of the dogs. Shouting to Strickland, Igor dove to the side into the shelter of a massively thick tree trunk.
As he crashed to the ground, the Hind cut loose with its chin mounted gun. High velocity explosive rounds tore into the forest where the two men had been hiding, shredding trees and churning up the ground. Smoke and debris filled the air as the gunner hosed down the entire area.
Once again, no rounds came near either man, which was a good thing. Even two-foot thick tree trunks were shattered when the shells struck them. The Hind didn’t need a clean shot on an unprotected human. If a hapless target was within a few yards of where the round detonated, they were going to be turned into a puddle of steaming jelly.
As the barrage continued long beyond the point it should have, Igor glanced over at the young SEAL. He was seated with his back against a tree trunk that was so large the two of them couldn’t have held hands around its circumference. When Strickland noticed him looking, he flashed a big grin and gave a thumbs up. Despite the situation, Igor smiled and shook his head, remembering when he was younger and felt indestructible.
The Hind’s gun eventually fell silent. Giving it a few seconds, Igor poked his head into the open for a look. The helicopter still hovered over the clearing, its spotlight working across the moonscape that was all that remained of the edge of the forest. Glancing at his AK, he cursed silently to note it was not even equipped with a flash suppressor. If he fired, there would be a large gout of flame that would immediately compromise his position. But, with a sound suppressor, the American didn’t have the same problem.
“Spotlight!” he shouted to Strickland. “Be shooting it!”
The SEAL glanced at him briefly, then rolled around the tree and onto a knee, rifle up and seeking his target. He knew what Igor was thinking. The use of the spot meant the Hind didn’t have any other capability of searching for them in the dark. Taking out the damn light would handicap the Russians and they might not get another opportunity for a shot.
Holding steady, he rested the red dot in his scope on the center of the brilliant white disk hanging beneath the helo’s belly. The aircraft was in a rock-solid hover, so sighting in was easy, but he hesitated before adjusting for elevation. He was two hundred yards from the Hind, which meant his bullet would drop two inches between the end of the muzzle and the target.
That wasn’t terribly concerning as the light was easily two feet in diameter. But what about the fierce downwash of the heavy machine’s main rotor? He had heard some of the more senior guys discussing this exact kind of shot. They were talking about the problems with finding the right aim point to compensate for a bullet in flight suddenly encountering the nearly one hundred knot winds created by the downdraft of a hovering helicopter.
Unfortunately, the team had been in a bar at the time and he’d been more interested in beer and the two girls shooting pool than the conversation. He hadn’t heard their opinion or suggestion on how to deal with the issue. But he had the intensive training provided by the Navy under his belt.
Taking a deep breath, Strickland placed the scope’s dot on the very top edge of the light. He had to adjust slightly as it was rotated to scan across the destruction, then he exhaled and pulled the trigger as the last breath left his lungs. Eye glued to his target, he cursed when it became apparent he’d missed. The wind created by the rotor had been strong enough to push his bullet more than two feet off course when it entered the downwash.
Aiming at a point on the nose of the gunship, he repeated the deep breath and pulled the trigger a second time. Less than a second later, the spotlight flared brightly for one brief instant, then a shower of sparks shot out of the housing as the light faded to complete darkness. He hoped the aircrew would think that the light had simply failed, but wasn’t going to count on it. Swiveling around the tree trunk, he sheltered behind it and glanced at Igor, grinning and giving him another thumbs up.
But the celebration didn’t last long. There was a whoosh, audible even over the roar of the hovering gunship. A heartbeat passed, the first rocket slammed into an adjacent tree, detonating with an ear-splitting blast. It was immediately followed by several more explosions and he threw himself flat on the ground. He glanced to the side to check on Igor, but the big Russian’s position was hidden by the smoky haze of the Hind’s rocket attack.
29
“So, tell me about the team that takes out Barinov and how they did it,” I said. “From what I’ve seen, there aren’t too many options other than an overwhelming, head-on assault.”
“I don’t know much,” Bering said. “Normally, I’d have received a full briefing based on intercepts, surveillance and whatever the FBI, CIA and NSA had on a subject. But all that is gone. We’re still able to tap into functional video feeds, like here in Australia, and we hacked into their intel databases but couldn’t find anything on these guys.”
“So, we don’t know who they are or why they want Barinov dead?” I asked.
“Correct.” He nodded.
“Australian? Heard some of their operators aren’t very happy with the Russians setting up shop in their country.”
&nbs
p; “Possible,” Bering acknowledged. “But not likely. If that was the case, we should have been able to ID them. We got into the Australian Defence Force system and these guys didn’t pop. Maybe they’ve been scrubbed, but the experts don’t think so and I can’t tell you why they formed that opinion.”
“Fine,” I said. “Then tell me about them.”
“There’s eighteen of them and it certainly appears they are trained operators. It’s probably easier if I show you than tell you.”
He reached out and woke the iPad, tapped a couple of icons then pressed the play button on a new video. A quiet, leafy street that I recognized from the briefings with Wellington was visible. It was night, but easy to see with the illumination from modern street lights.
The camera was focused on a road block that consisted of two Toyota SUVs pulled nose to nose. Four men carrying AKMS rifles and looking bored stood around the vehicles. Bering reached out and tapped the pause button, freezing the image.
“This is the only road into the area where Barinov’s building is located. What you’re looking at is the outer security perimeter.”
“Seen it,” I said. “Had a good briefing just a few hours ago.”
He nodded and pressed the play button. For a few seconds, the guards walked around listlessly. They were on sentry duty in the middle of the night and were bored. Tired. Sleepy. Would almost rather be doing anything else.
Then, one of them suddenly straightened and peered at a point that was behind the surveillance camera. He remained frozen for a couple of seconds, then leapt for the rear of one of the Toyotas as two of his companions aimed their rifles down the street and the third shouted into a radio.
The first man reappeared, raising a Russian made, shoulder fired anti-armor missile launcher to his shoulder. Before he could fire, both vehicles began taking heavy weapons fire, then erupted into a ball of flame that immediately consumed all four men. The camera whited-out briefly from the intensity of the change in light.
It took a few seconds for it to compensate. When the image returned, a hulking, eight-wheeled armored vehicle barreled down the street and blasted through the road block. The flaming husks of the Toyotas were shoved aside, the military vehicle hardly slowing from the impact.
“What the hell is that?” Rachel asked.
“That’s an ASLAV,” I said, recognizing the attacking vehicle as an Australian Light Armored Vehicle. “The Aussie version of our Marines’ LAV. Where the hell did they get that if they’re not Australian military?”
I tapped the pause button and looked up at Bering.
“Stole it,” he said. “There’s an ADF yard not far from where Barinov lives. They don’t run exercises or missions out of it, but they do store a good number of vehicles, weapons and munitions there.”
“In downtown Sydney?” I asked in surprise.
He nodded.
“Okay,” I said, looking back at the iPad. “They got themselves an ASLAV and broke through the outer perimeter. There are five more rings of security and we’ve already seen a Russian Kornet anti-tank missile. How the hell did they get past the rest of the layers?”
“Three ASLAVs,” Bering said, tapping the play button.
Only seconds behind the first armored vehicle, two more roared through the breach. The view changed to follow them as they penetrated the Russian lines and spread out. They used their heavy machine guns to decimate the next perimeter, the drivers keeping the speed on as they advanced.
By now, the Russian guards were getting their shit together and fighting back. Light arms as well as heavier machine guns opened up, but neither could penetrate the ASLAV’s armored hide. More return fire chewed up the resistance, then a missile streaked in from off screen and destroyed one of the attacker’s vehicles. Another flashed past the flank of the middle one, detonating against the side of a large building and filling the air with pulverized cement dust.
The ASLAVs continued to maneuver, taking full advantage of the urban terrain as they chewed up the Russian security. Another vehicle raced into the shot. A Bushmaster. This was the Australian version of the American MRAP. It screeched to a stop behind the protection of one of the ASLAVs and six men boiled out.
I leaned close to the screen, hoping to identify them, but they were dressed in identical and unremarkable tactical clothing that could have come from anywhere. Two of them carried a bulky device that I recognized. An American made TOW, or Tube launched, Optically tracked, Wire guided missile.
While the other four provided security, they quickly deployed the tripod and placed the weapon in the middle of the street. One of them ran for the controls, but pitched sideways and lay still, presumably taking a hit from the Russian defensive fire. His partner dashed behind the missile system, spent a few seconds acquiring a target that was several degrees above the horizon, then fired.
The view changed to a wide shot of a tall, residential building. A streak of fire raced in, impacting the penthouse level, which erupted in billowing smoke, dust and flames when the warhead detonated. A few seconds later, the video ended and I looked up at Bering.
“Barinov was in the penthouse when the missile struck,” he said.
“They were on a suicide mission,” Rachel said quietly.
I nodded in agreement.
“See anything that helps us?” Bering asked.
“No way to tell,” I said. “Aussie vehicles and an American missile. The few guys we saw were carrying AKMS rifles, but that don’t mean shit. They’re the most common rifle in the world.”
“Our assessment as well,” Bering said. “What we’ve been able to find by tracing them backwards with video surveillance is almost nothing. They are all white. That was less than helpful. Tells us nothing about where they came from. But, it doesn’t really matter. I know where all of them are going to be before they break in to the ADF yard and steal the vehicles.”
“They already had weapons when they broke in?” I asked.
“Yes. They brought the rifles with them, but the TOW was taken along with the ASLAVs and the Bushmaster. It appears they knew exactly what was there. It took them less than six minutes to breach, obtain what they wanted and leave.”
“You said Barinov was in the penthouse. He was killed? You’re certain?” I asked.
“As certain as we can be without physically inspecting the rubble and identifying the corpse. He was there and the nerve gas, along with the nuclear strike on Hawaii, was activated, so the evidence is pretty damn compelling.”
30
I lit another cigarette as I sat there thinking. After a brief moment, I shook my head at the concept of protecting the man I was determined to make pay for Katie’s death. The thought of feeling my hands sink into the flesh of his flabby neck as I choked the life out of him was a recurring theme in my head.
Sure, there had always been the problem of what would become of Australia if the nerve gas was released, but I’d somehow managed to dismiss the concern. In my mind, it wasn’t a valid reason for me to not push forward in my quest. Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone, even Rachel, but it was there. I glanced at her, catching her in profile as she re-watched the assault on Barinov’s building and realized I’d been less than honest with both her and myself.
I hadn’t been ready to move on from Katie. I’d thought I was, or perhaps it was my way of coping with losing her, but my heart still ached whenever I thought about her. Which was often. More often than I should? I didn’t know the answer to that. But there were too many times I’d nearly slipped and addressed Rachel as Katie. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened as I had no doubt it would cut Rachel’s feelings to the bone.
Puffing on the cigarette, I forced myself to tamp down my emotions and return focus to the problem at hand. How to mount a pre-emptive strike against a much larger enemy that appeared to be highly motivated and well trained. There had been no hesitation during the attack. No holding back. They’d hit the Russians fast and hard.
That almost guaranteed these
guys were combat hardened vets. They understood the concept preached by the late, great General George S. Patton. Attack with overwhelming speed and violence and defeat the enemy before they figure out what is happening. Unfortunately, that didn’t give me any insight into who these guys were or what had motivated them to sacrifice their lives in exchange for taking Barinov’s. I understood my motivation, but…
I paused as that thought rattled through my head. Motivation! What would motivate someone to willingly sacrifice themselves to kill another? Revenge came out at the top of the list. A blind-hatred driven quest to avenge someone you loved. The same reason I so badly wanted to stand over the Russian president’s corpse.
But how did that help me figure out who I was dealing with? Barinov was responsible for something in the neighborhood of seven billion deaths. Seven billion! There probably wasn’t a person left alive on the planet that didn’t have good reason to want to see the son of a bitch die a slow, agonizing death.
It didn’t really matter why, I finally acknowledged to myself. All that mattered was it was going to happen if I didn’t step in. Not that there was any guarantee I could head this off, but I had faced worse odds before. And as much as I wanted Barinov, I couldn’t allow the deaths of millions of Australians and another million Americans in Hawaii. If only I had Nitro and his guys to help. I thought about that for a second before looking up at Bering.
“Where the fuck were you yesterday?” I growled.
“What?”
“Yesterday, when a whole team of SEALs and four of my friends were slaughtered by a Russian gunship and a squad of Spetsnaz. Where the fuck were you? Why didn’t you stop that? You could have told me all of this, then!”
Rachel put the iPad down and stared at him. I guess the idea hadn’t occurred to her yet, either.
“I couldn’t,” he said.
“You’re here!” I shouted. “Unless this is all bullshit.”