by Jo Black
On the opposing side Alex had his own decisions to make. Though pride would not allow him to admit it, he knew he had the opportunity to vanquish a long-standing enemy and bring the bloodiest period of The Company’s history to a close. Whatever displeasure Radic’s capture had caused the Kremlin, and therefore their sponsor, all sins would be quickly forgiven to present the biggest prize of the Chechen war. And the propaganda victory it would give the president would be a tidy bonus. But the nagging distraction of Zara’s plight weighed heavy on his mind. His natural resolve was to wrap his contractual obligations up on the most expedited basis possible and begin the pursuit to recover her in earnest. Every delay to that objective merely increased the risk to her. His brain ran through the options like a chess master tactician moving theoretical pieces around the board. The snipers, The Ninja, the assault team — all possible routes to secure both The Butcher’s capture (or death) whilst maintaining the main objective to get a message to Zara’s captors that The Dragon had woken and sought the safe return of its missing treasure.
His time for planning expired as his ear radio chirped into life with news from the overwatch that the arms shipment convoy had arrived. Whatever decision he took now, he’d have to live with the consequences.
As the trucks rounded to the main factory car park and reached the tactical mark, the overwatch started the count-in. Waiting for all the drivers and principals to exit the vehicles, ensuring they would remain in situ during the phased assault, Alex took a brief pause to reflect on his plan, closing his eyes and summoning his fighter’s courage. He pressed the radio and gave the command.
‘Death before dishonour.’
A brief pause.
Nish answered the rally call with the second command authentication to begin the assault.
‘Let slip the dogs of war.’
The snipers opened up high on the overwatch behind them. Each man silently counted until the thunder crack of high velocity rounds caught up as the first shots landed home taking out the opposing snipers and overwatch. ‘Clear to move,’ they reported on the radio.
The front line of assaulters lobbed smoke grenades over the pipes to cover the rappel. As the grenades erupted in a thick plume of cover smoke, they quickly threw Teflon coated ropes over the pipes, athletically vaulted over them and rappelled into the factory courtyard. As soon as they hit the ground they immediately brought their carbines to bear and opened up single shot marked precision fire against the posted Chechen pickets. The snipers set to work taking out the drivers who were now fleeing to their trucks. With the flanked teams now broke to cover on either side, the central gun pit opened up the .50 H.M.G and provided cover fire as the teams started the dangerous cover-to-cover pincer action on the opposing flanks. Adrenaline fired into Alex’s veins as he led the charge, dispatching Chechens with precision headshot after headshot as they messily sprayed AK fire in his direction. He seemingly danced through the sea of bullets like some ethereal wind surrounding him merely blew them away. Anyone who had witnessed him in battle often recounted how he had an almost sixth sense to dodge even the most accurate of sniper fire, his reputation as the ‘unkillable dragon’ was well deserved, and reflected in the size of bounty pool paid to anyone who dared try and vanquish him.
The team cut through the first half of the forecourt with ease, by which time the targets caught in the open had long since met their maker, and all that remained were the trickier concealed cover sentries and whatever bulk of force The Butcher had waiting in the factory. Alex and Nish rallied their forces to start clearing the small storage huts and outhouses with standard grenade through window, two through the door, room clearance. Minutes into the fight and almost all the resistance from the forecourt was quelled as they reached level with where the trucks had been abandoned in the forecourt. If there was a modern day forlorn hope, it was the job of whoever would firstly brave the open ground cover to reach the trucks, and then ride them out of the fire zone knowing one R.P.G would be enough to send their contents, and them, into component parts. Unlike soldiers in state service, Alex’s company was an inherently democratic and financially rewarded affair, and a sizeable bonus to the prize was added to anyone who volunteered for it. Eager to earn their first big payday, and prove themselves worthy to The Dragon, there always seemed to be at least a few young bucks with enough enthusiasm to embrace the task. On the overwatch’s command they were guided into position to begin the perilous task of withdrawing the trucks. Having made it to the safe cover of the armoured Kamaz cargo trucks, they began to back them out to exfil when the radio from the overwatch sparked up in an obvious audible panic. ‘We have an inbound heavy rotary moving into position.’
‘Say again,’ Alex said.
‘Gunship. Hind. Azerbaijan colours. Not ours.’
‘Eagle. Confirm not ours.’
‘Bleeps confirms IDent’ is not a match for friendly bird. Hostile gunship is inbound.’
‘Copy that. Get The Castle. I want our bird in the air.’ Alex stared at the trucks in the open. They were sitting ducks for the gunship; as soon as it rounded the factory from its approach they’d be dispatched with rockets, their fifty million in weapons’ cargo with them.
‘Castle reports friendly bird is en-route. E.T.A is three mikes.’
‘We don’t have three mikes.’
‘Bird is aware.’
‘Fuck...’ Alex sighed with annoyance before turning his attention to the convoy drivers. ‘Get out of the trucks!’ Alex shouted across to them. They looked at him confused. He made a hand signal for an inbound helicopter. ‘Get the fuck out of there!’
The drivers tumbled out from the cargo trucks, under heavy repelling fire they returned to cover positions.
‘We need a plan quickly,’ Nish communicated over the radio.
‘We need to draw that gunship away from the trucks. If he toasts them we’re down fifty million,’ Alex replied.
‘What do you propose?’
‘Go after The Butcher. They’ll be here to protect the principal asset. If we run him down the air support will move to protect him. Rally up for a breach into the factory.’
‘This is suicide,’ Nish complained.
‘Do you want to stay out here and get ripped to shreds by that Hind?’
‘Factory it is. Move up!’
The teams quickly broke from cover and pushed up to the two side entrances. Flash-bangs were thrown in before doors breached. They quickly cleared the first corridor of the perimeter sentries before reaching the access doors to the main construction hall. Using a small mirror on a extending pole, Nish and Alex checked round the opposing flanked entrances to reveal the tactical layout — the towering internal of the factory was derelict, mostly open down the centre, with countless catwalks either side connected via overhead large crane stanchions. It was a complete shooting gallery, the only cover offered by the large amount of foliage overgrowing the rusting assembly line machinery.
‘Deploy tactical drones.’
The teams’ respective tech’s removed the mini drones, unfolded the propeller blades and activated them, tossing them into the air the near silent motors powered them up into flight as their operators fired up the small handheld controls. The drones quickly found airspace and began to buzz around the hall searching for threats.
Over the radio, the overwatch channel burst with static then a transmission, drowned by the noisy approach of the gunship rounding the factory. ‘Enemy gunship is now on station. Circuit passing the forecourt and transports. Hold for update.’ The teams listened and waited, breath held as the gunship prowled around the perimeter looking for its prey.
‘They’re not firing,’ Nish said.
‘The principals must still be inside. They don’t want to risk it. No movement. Hold position.’
‘Gunship is moving to the roof. Looks like they are preparing for an extract.’
‘Update from The Castle on our bird.’
‘Bird is still en-route.’
; ‘We need to get to the roof. Go back and get ready to withdraw the trucks once our bird arrives for cover. Everyone else, cover-to-cover to the stairwell on the north side. Watch the catwalks for snipers.’ The teams moved carefully one by one using the shadow cover under the opposing catwalks. Alex understood the risk only too well, his enemy had the superior higher ground on him, but his men had the training. But with fifty million and an enemy of the Russian State about to get a heli’ evac’ off the roof, the risks were worth taking.
Nish spotted the first of the concealed Chechens; he quickly fired three shots into him, his body fell off the catwalk and landed with a thud on the concrete floor three storeys down. One by one, bright muzzle flashes revealed the extent of the opposing force from the gloom as bullets rained down from all directions. ‘Keep moving, don’t get pinned,’ Alex shouted over the echoing cacophony of gunfire. His men did their best to run and gun, but with such difficult angles they all struggled to get any accurate fire on the threat from above. They made it about halfway before it became clear to all concerned that the sheer numeric disparity and tactical ground advantage had even Alex’s fearsome outfit squarely outmatched.
‘It’s no good. We can’t get through this,’ Nish shouted.
‘Cancel the advance, get to cover,’ Alex reluctantly ordered. ‘Overwatch. Send orders to our bird to take that Hind down and do something about the top three floors of the factory. We’re pinned.’
‘Copy that. Standby for Close Air Support in sixty seconds.’
‘Cover for C.A.S. Danger Close!’ Nish ordered.
The enemy Hind touched down on the roof of the factory. The Butcher, The Broker, and a small protection detail emerged from the factory stairs and quickly mounted the helicopter through the large troop-loading door. Their Hind made it about twenty feet off the deck when the pilot spotted The Company’s Hind emerge from the cover of the factory in front. He had no time to respond before the missiles were loose. He instinctively slammed the right rudder flinging the Hind’s tail around and started banking in an attempt to cover behind the building. The first missile impacted on the tail, ripping the rear rotor assembly clean off. The rear tail and rotor fell down through the factory’s cathedral glass roof shattering it before showering down to the factory floor below. As it landed the spinning blades sheared off in all directions cutting through pipes and metal, sending the building’s occupants spilling to any cover they could find. Smoke billowed out of the Hind, the second missile exploded short blowing it fifty or more feet laterally before the downdraft from the explosion sucked the huge fireball inside the factory. As the Hind fell it clipped the side of the factory, smashing through the concrete roof as it tumbled in a spin towards the ground. The north windows shattered as the main rotor blades sheared through them sending high velocity debris in all directions. The Company’s Hind tilted forwards and began its strafing run across the factory roof, firing a salvo of rockets inside, each exploded and shattered the layers of catwalks, collapsing them into each other with a rusting screech of tortured metal and spilling the occupants in all directions. The stricken enemy gunship pilot struggled with the controls before the remnants of its fuselage smashed into the ground, breaking its back, it rolled before the final rotor dug into the earth and dragged it to a halt, ejecting the remaining occupants from the cargo hold in all directions.
Nish and Alex emerged from the sea of dust and debris, shell-shocked from the cacophony of destruction, briefly oblivious, but both becoming quickly aware of the new danger, as burning debris cascaded downwards onto the large range of liquid gas fuel tanks in the main factory hall.
‘This whole place is going to blow...’ Nish said to himself as he looked up and listened to the creaking metal and cracking concrete as the 60-year-old W.W.2-era building finally gave up its structural integrity. ‘Exfil. Now!’
The retreat was anything but orderly, The company men got to their feet from wherever they were scattered and eyed for the Russian labelled emergency exit signs, staggering in whatever direction led them to the closest exit point. They spilled out from all sides, running for cover.
Alex made it to the south side. ‘Get the trucks out of here now!’ He shouted at the drivers. They quickly got the convoy underway and began reversing back as Alex ran as best he could for one of the many concrete bomb shelters dotted around the factory. He took refuge in one. ‘Get the bird to withdraw. We have a major explosion hazard imminent.’
‘Copy that. Air reports survivors from the crash fleeing north.’
‘Follow and observe from safe distance.’
The radio broke to static. The rest of Alex’s fire-team made it to the safety of the shelter. They pushed the rusted iron blast door shut then took cover behind the thick concrete walls. The first propane tanks popped off, followed by the others, then fire caught its accelerant – fifty plus years of residue explosives and combustibles dust coating every surface soaked deep into the porous concrete. The entire building erupted in a huge orange explosive fireball that rocked the earth beneath it before the stored abandoned arsenal took hold and finished any resistance the structure had left. The shockwave blew across the overwatch with the force of a hurricane as the entire building exploded outwards in every direction before the inner contents collapsed inwards. As fire engulfed the perimeter, the warning klaxons sounded on the adjacent oil refinery and workers started running for their lives as a hellish shower of burning debris cascaded down on top of the oil and petroleum tanks. The burning metal shredded through the outfield storage tanks, one by one they erupted in a fireball before catching the main supply line leading to the tankers waiting nearby on the Caspian Sea.
As the last of the debris fell, the overwatch returned from their cover to witness the devastation — a huge crater where the factory had once been and black scorched earth thousands of metres out with a huge mushroom cloud towering hundreds of feet into the air. The entire of the refinery storage field now ablaze as engineers worked in panic to try and shut down the feed supply fuelling the blaze.
Inside the bunker, Alex hadn’t witnessed the hell he’d unleashed, but he’d certainly felt it. He pressed his radio. ‘Team SitRep. Anyone still up?’
Nothing but static in response.
They made their way down the escape tunnel. With brute force releasing the rusted door to emerge on the perimeter, Alex climbed up the ladder and finally got to survey the remnants of the battlefield. One by one black figures popped up from around the site. He counted them and nodded. ‘The dead have risen.’
Nish looked at the devastation. ‘Well, they’ll be in no doubt that the Dragon was here.’
The radio buzzed with static. ‘Overwatch. Principal reported escaping in motor convoy on the Caspian Sea coast road. Heading south.’
‘Recall the bird. Get the team exfil’d. Status on the trucks.’
‘Safely extracted and en-route to The Castle.’
‘Let’s get the money.’
The helicopter swept around the perimeter and picked up the dispersed team, Alex was collected last. ‘Well that was subtle,’ Nish said as Alex boarded.
Alex shrugged with indifference. ‘The Azerbaijanis had it scheduled for demolition anyway. They want to build a football stadium. We’ve saved them some work.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be grateful, apart from you torching half their fucking refinery in the process.’ Nish nodded down at the still burning fuel depot.
‘A little collateral damage.’
‘Just a little...’
‘Let’s go and get our money.’
‘I’m fine by the way. Thanks for asking. It felt like we were under a nuclear bomb going off. But I’m fine.’
‘Come on, tell me that wasn’t fun,’ Alex replied.
‘Do you think he survived?’
‘Let’s go and find out...’
14
The Broker was nervous. Having survived the gunfight, and a helicopter crash, now he had to explain to his employer how his arms ship
ment had gone missing, after it had been delivered, and that his suitably angry client was now withholding payment. ‘I’m telling you it was him. It was like Armageddon. The whole fucking place now resembles a scene from the apocalypse.’
‘Calm down. Now explain to the client that the arms had been delivered in good faith to the site agreed, full and final payment in settlement of the account is required and he must pursue the recovery of the missing shipment at his own expense.’
‘Perhaps you should explain it to him,’ The Broker nervously jabbered into his satellite phone. ‘Because frankly speaking I don’t feel it is in my best interests to push the matter on account of the several armed gentlemen who now have me as their guest.’
‘This is what I pay you for you snivelling little fuckboi. What do you think we do for a living? We are arms dealers; we’re not selling candy to schoolchildren here. These people are warmongers and we sell them the tools to monger with. You will enforce the terms of the agreement and recover the outstanding fifty million. It is non-negotiable.’ The line went dead.
‘What your boss say?’ The Butcher sneered at The Broker as the car swerved at speed to overtake slower moving trucks.
The Broker swallowed nervously. ‘He understands your concerns, we’re investigating the circumstances and will look towards recovering or replacing the shipment at the earliest convenience.’