by Eddy Shah
Ch. 69
Vnukovo-2 Airport
Moscow
The Director watched the President's Illyuishin Yakovlev Yak-4- tri-jet lift into the clear winter sky and turn westward for its flight to Berlin.
The arrangements had gone well. As Moscow's VIP airport, Vnukovo-2 was easy to police, security was not difficult here, but the Director was always nervous where his leader's safety was involved.
'I never like it when he's out of our jurisdiction,' he said, turning to Rostov.
'We've taken all the precautions we can.'
'Even so. There are too many hotheads running round these days. Too many people with old scores to settle. I never like it when any of our people go back into the old territories.'
'When I get back to the office, I'll double check all the arrangements.'
'It won't do any harm.'
They walked together down the corridor towards the exit, joining the small army of officials and apparatchiks who had come to see the President off and gain brownie points for so doing.
'Why do you think the Americans and British released the pictures of their agents to the media?'
'I don't know.'
The Director laughed. 'And you wouldn't tell me if you did.'
'I don't think they mean us any harm.'
'Who? The Americans or the two fugitives?'
'Any of them.'
'I hope you're right. These are historic times. Also nervous times. It wouldn't take much to shake everything up again.'
Rostov didn't answer. He already knew how delicate the balance of peace was, how slender the thread of hope. One bullet, one bomb in the right place, and the world could easily plunge back into its gloomy shadows of mistrust and attrition.
Ch. 70
Dresdener Heidi
Dresden.
She'd cradled him to sleep in her lap. Her mouth was dry with the salt.
He'd stirred once as she licked him, came erect within seconds. She'd looked up at him and he'd grinned. So she'd quietly squeezed the love out of him with her hands and her mouth, wanting to help him take his mind off the hurt, wanting to be close to him. After that he'd slept and she'd continued her ministrations until her mouth was too dry, her saliva spent.
She watched him as he slept, so vulnerable as he tossed and turned. It was impossible to believe that this powerless and battered body could stand so much pain. Finally she'd dozed off.
He woke her nearly two hours later, softly so as not to alarm her.
'Okay?' he asked.
She came awake quickly, trying to work out where she was. She was pleased to see him, but her expression turned to dismay when she recalled their predicament. She sat up suddenly, her mouth foul tasting and dry.
'It's okay. Take it easy,' he comforted her.
She saw he had put his trousers back on and remembered why her mouth was so dry. She pulled herself upright, her tiredness rapidly evaporating.
'I'm fine,' she said. 'What're you up to?'
He grinned. 'Getting us out of here. But you're going to be miserable.'
'Why?'
'Because I needed your bracelet.'
She looked down at her hand and realised her gold Cartier Double C bracelet was missing. She looked up and saw that Adam was holding it out to her. But it wasn't curved for her wrist any longer, but straight. The big C on the end had bent so it now formed a sharp arrowhead. She regretted its loss for a moment; it had been her favourite piece, a gift from Peter and happier days.
'That won't get us very far,' she said.
'This might.' He pulled a sliver of wood from inside his trouser leg, sharp and pointed and over eight inches long.
She was amazed; from nowhere he had produced two weapons. 'Where'd you get that from?' she asked.
He pointed at the wall next to the door, and she saw that he had prised it loose from one of the wooden slats, carved it out from the wall. 'With the help of your bracelet.'
'Mr. Cartier will be most impressed. What next?'
'Wait for them.'
'Just like that?'
'Of course. There are other ways of waiting.'
'Like what?'
'I had a funny dream last night,' he grinned as he spoke.'That you were doing more than just licking the salt off my body.'
She shook her head, then started to laugh. He was incorrigible.
'Why've they left us alone so long?' she asked.
'To soften us up. It's an old trick.'
'But they haven't got time with us. Not if they really don't know why we're here.'
'I realize that. They'll come at us harder this time.'
'I doubt if I can take it. I mean, the things they did to you. I don't know...' She lapsed into quiet.
He squeezed her reassuringly. She hadn't been trained for this; it wasn't part of her brief. He remembered the Gulf, the nightmares that the Iraqi soldiers had inflicted on the Kuwaiti women. He'd been sent in undercover before the American and coalition troops had taken Kuwait City. He remembered one woman, hiding herself in shame in her own home, raped, her nipples bitten off, branded with a red hot poker with the initial S across her thigh. She'd begged him to kill her, but he'd covered her with a blanket and stayed in the house with her while he waited for the Allied troops to take the city. Two of the soldiers had returned, no doubt for more pleasure at her expense. He'd killed them, slowly, with a knife. They lay, bleeding to death with gags in their mouths, with him and the women watching. It had taken three hours for them to die. Three painful and tortuous hours. Then, when they were dead, she'd suddenly grabbed his knife and plunged it into herself. She'd looked up at him as she lay dying. And smiled. Damn woman, after days of not speaking, she had said thank you before she passed away. The Coalition troops had taken the city the next day.
'We'll be out of here before they touch you,' he said. 'Just remember, when I say run, or jump, or whatever, you just do it. Don't question. Just do it.'
The Stermabeitalung came for them an hour later.
They were both taken this time, bundled out of the small room into a larger one that led into the corridor that Adam remembered. The corridor was bare, wooden walled with only light switches and Halon gas fire extinguisher levers. There was nothing he could use as a weapon, nothing to turn on his escort. He tried to keep between the five storm troopers and Billie, tried to protect her from the roughness, but the salt between his toes rubbed into the flesh and made walking difficult and painful. One of the Stermabeitalung, frustrated at the slow pace, stamped his heavy boot on Adam's bare feet, forcing him to cry out as he tried to hobble along faster.
The door at the end of the corridor was open. From it came the sound of a machine gun firing, followed by the single pops of a silenced revolver.
Adam and Billie were led into the room, a firing range that spread some forty metres. Kaas cradled the machine gun, another storm-trooper was firing at a target with the revolver. He stopped as the couple came in.
Kaas walked across the range and signalled the Stermabeitalung to follow him with the prisoners. They entered the room at the far end, the room with no windows and reinforced walls. Two guards stood by it, fully armed.
The room had been changed since Frick and Kragan had watched the last exercise. There were now rows of seats, banked upwards in four levels, that ran in a semicircle around the left half of the room. In the middle there were two lecterns, a long table and six chairs. The banked rows had tailor's dummies seated in them, all dressed in suits, all blankly staring forward as if waiting to be conjured alive. Other tailor's dummies stood, in police uniform, at the free standing doors that had been placed at the top of the banked sections. It was like a stage set, with actors frozen forever, waiting to burst forth and speak their lines.
'Put them in their places,' ordered Kaas.
He watched as Adam and Billie were manhandled towards the lecterns and placed behind them. They found themselves facing the room, as if they were the speakers and the dummies the audience.
'Enjoy the game,' said Kaas, and signalled his men to leave the room.
Fuck you, Curly Top. Adam knew what was coming next. After all, this whole thing had started with the SAS. 'Keep still,' he hissed at Billie.
The lights went down, the whole scene was in semi-darkness.
'Whatever happens, keep absolutely still.'
'What's going to happen?' she asked as Kaas closed the door behind him.
'Nothing. As long as you keep absolutely still.'
'But....'
'Think about something. Anything that takes your mind off where we are.'
'What....'
'Think thirsty, Billie. Think about how much you want a drink. And don't think about anything else.' He hoped she'd do as he told her. He also hoped they weren't going to go further than he expected, that one of them wasn't a real target. If they were, then he didn't want Billie to see the danger that could end her life.
Nothing happened, there was just silence and her nervous breathing.
'Why sh...?' She broke the silence.
'Think thirsty. Nothing else.'
Listen out, Marcus. Listen out for the bastards.
It was nearly another full minute before he heard the shuffling from behind the seats on the right.
They're not that good, Marcus. Bloody amateurs. Which is what makes this thing so dangerous.
'Think thirsty. Shut your eyes and ignore everything,' he whispered urgently to Billie. 'For Christ sake, don't move. Whatever happens.'
The shuffling continued. Spread out now, from behind the centre and left hand seats.
I hope they know what they're doing, Marcus. I hope they know that they're only trying to scare us.
The stun grenade exploded from the left, ripping brilliant light and deafening sound into the chamber.
'Do as I said,' Adam shouted across to Billie. In the brightness he saw the shock on her face, but was relieved to see that she had her eyes tightly closed, her head angled downwards.
There was a second grenade from the right, and as it exploded, four men burst through the doors at the top of the stands, their Heckler and Koch HK54 submachine guns aimed and blazing at their intended targets. This time the targets were three dummies on the right hand seats and two on the left. The third targets were the two dummies at the table immediately behind the lecterns.
One of the attackers rushed at the lecterns and opened fire at short range at the two targets, the blast of repeating gunfire deafening. Adam, accepting finally that they were not the targets, looked back at Billie. Her eyes were still clamped shut, her lips moving fast as if in silent prayer. Bless you, darling. We'll be all right. Think ahead, Marcus, think about how we're going to get out of here. This little performance is for show. Nothing else.
He watched the gunman turn his HK 54 onto the dummies and blast them to smithereens. Then the gunman threw something at Adam, something sharp that stuck into his flesh just above his heart. Before Adam could react, a final stun grenade went off, blinding him with its nearness.
When Adam opened his eyes, the gunmen had gone, the stage was empty except for the wafts of drifting smoke and the disinterest of the lifeless dummies in this terrible rehearsal for death.
'Okay,' he said to Billie. 'It's all right now. It's all right.'
She opened her eyes and looked around. That's when she screamed. 'You're bleeding.'
He looked down at his chest. The gunman had thrown a dart at him, with some sort of plastic sac attached to it, which had been filled with red liquid. It had spread across his chest. 'I'm all right. It's only red ink.' He pulled the small dart from his chest as he replied and held it up to her, showed her it was harmless.
'Why? What's going on?'
'Softening tactics. To scare you.'
'They did that.'
'Take it for what it was. Just to scare you.'
'I love you.'
'I love you, too.' He heard the main door open and the overhead lights snapped on. 'Believe it, we're going to get out. When I say jump, jump.'
Before she could answer, Kaas had entered with three of his men, weapons pointed at Adam and Billie.
'Cool, eh, Englishman?' sneered Kaas as he reached the couple. 'Our tricks don't impress you.'
'Like your toys, do yo...'
Kaas lashed out hitting Adam on the chest and sending him sprawling backwards against the table. 'I talk. Not you,' he shrieked. He signaled his men to grab Adam and pull him to his feet. Then he stood before Adam, his gun at his victim's throat, his voice shaking with rage. 'You've only lasted this long because of them. They won't let me go further. But even they will get impatient. All this here…', he waved his revolver round the room, '...is only a rehearsal. They'll get impatient because they need the answers before this game becomes real. Then I'll do things my way. But..,' he shrugged, 'we have to leave today. So we must learn to speak faster. Eh. The Tiergarten won't wait forever?' He jabbed the gun barrel into Adam's stomach, forcing him to double forward in pain. 'Bring him next door. Both of them. Let's beat the crap out of them.'
Kaas swung round and went up the banking, followed by the others who dragged Adam and Billie along.
When they got to the door, Adam stumbled and fell. As his two manhandlers tripped and tried to grab him again, Adam pulled the sliver of long wood from his trouser leg and drove it up into the heart of the first storm trooper and killing him instantly. The wood snapped and the trooper staggered backwards and fell against Kaas, forcing him to the ground. Before any of the other storm troopers could react, Adam had chopped Billie's escort to the ground and kicked a third with his outstep, breaking his shin bone as he did. Then he grabbed her and pushed her through the door. As the others were reaching for their weapons, slow to react in their confusion, and Kaas was trying to lift himself out from under the dead storm trooper Adam pulled the lever of the Halon fire extinguisher.
The Halon gas, a bromotrifluoromethane, superpressurised to 360 PSI at 70 degrees F with dry nitrogen gas, exploded out of the canisters that were fitted in the ceiling and instantly sucked out all the oxygen from the air. It was what they were designed to do in case of fire; simply suck out all the oxygen from the area. As Adam raced through the door and closed it behind him, he saw those left in the room gasping for breath. As he shut the door, he flicked the latch on it and locked them into the airlessness he had created. It wouldn't kill them, but it would certainly slow them down.
The firing range was empty; Kaas had cleared the area while he went about his awful business. Adam couldn't see any weapons lying around, so he took Billie's arm and pulled her towards the exit door. He opened it carefully, but there were two armed Stermabeitalung there. They swung round, surprised at seeing him, and drew their sub machine guns level. He slammed the door before they could fire and bolted it. Then he led Billie back into the room. There was a small basin on the side-wall, and Billie broke from him, rushed over to it and frantically started to drink from the tap.
'Don't drink too much, or you'll be sick,' he shouted at her, and pulled her away from the tap.
'I never thought water could be so....,' she gasped.
'Come on,' he interrupted. 'Let's get out of here.'
From his left, someone opened fire with a sub machine gun in an attempt to blast through the thick wooden door. So Curly Top, or one of his men, was still alive. From the right, as if in stereo, another gun chattered as the two guards at the entrance to the range also tried to smash their way through.
'What the hell did you do in there?' she asked as she followed him down to the sandbagged area.
'Put their fires out.'
'What?'
'Save it for later.'
He led her to the end of the range where the targets were lined up. There were no windows behind them, no obvious means of escape.
'Up there,' she said, pointing at the ceiling.
It was a trap door, a workman's entry into the roof.
Adam turned and ran to the other end of the range, grabb
ed one of the wooden chairs lined up there, and placed it under the trap doo. He stood on it, and looked into the darkness of the roof tresses. Then he stepped down, signalled Billie onto the chair and helped her climb into the roof.
The door on the left burst open as he pulled himself up into the dark void. He heard the bullets thud into the woodwork of the ceiling as he closed the trap door and bolted it shut. The men underneath were firing into the ceiling, but the wood was too thick. Adam looked down the roof area. It was wide, an enormous football field of sloping roof and supporting tresses. He moved away, running on the boards towards a light at the far end. Billie followed him.
The light came from a skylight with a ledge below it. Adam opened it and looked out. It was a murky day, foggy and cold. Below him, standing at the side of the building, was a Stermabeitalung, who had crept off duty from the front door to have a quiet smoke. The gunshots hadn't concerned him; it wasn't unusual from the area of the firing range.
As Adam came out onto the ledge, the alarm bells shrilled, warning all storm troopers that something had gone wrong. The Stermabeitalung quickly ground his cigarette in the sand, slipped his HK54 submachine gun off his shoulder and turned quickly to take up his position at the front door. It was too late. Adam had dropped onto him from the ledge. As the trooper staggered to get up, Adam drove the Cartier bracelet into his neck, through his voice box, severing the artery.
'Jump!' Adam shouted. More nervous about the automatic fire behind her than the height before her, Billie jumped without question. He caught her, softened her fall.
Then he took the HK54 from the dead guard, untied the laces on his boots and slipped them off, grabbed his topcoat and led Billie into the trees. This time he triggered off the alarm that surrounded the chalet, but he wasn't worried. It would be lost in the sound of the main klaxon that was already blaring through the camp.