by Ken Goddard
Much closer now — perhaps fifty yards away — she saw Gavin come back up with the M4 carbine. But he was looking away from her, up the hill, in the direction where she’d begun her slide, so she continued to run… forty yards away now… thirty… her lungs starting to burn… twenty…
And then, when he must have seen something out of the corner of his eye and started to turn in her direction, she brought the rifle up to her shoulder and began firing as she continued to run forward; seeing the sandbags exploding around Gavin; seeing him spin away, disappearing again behind the barricade as the carbine flew out of his hand; and then seeing him come back up a second later with a pistol gripped in both hands.
They both fired at almost the same instant, the 7.62mm rifle bullet catching Gavin square in the center of his armored vest and flinging him backwards again at the moment he pulled the trigger of the pistol; causing the 9mm hollow-point bullet to rip a gouge across Achara’s cheek — instead of catching her center-of-face, where he’d aimed — and twisting her sideways as the M14’s bolt locked open on the now-empty magazine.
Catching her balance, and ignoring the wound, Achara threw the empty rifle aside; yanked the bow off her shoulder; grabbed an arrow out of the quiver and notched it as she charged forward with mindless fury; leapt up on top of the sandbag wall; and sent the obsidian-tipped arrow tearing into the side of Gavin’s vest as the severely-injured ex-SASR commando desperately fumbled for his dropped pistol.
He was still grasping for the pistol — and almost had it — when the second arrow slammed into his neck, severing his spinal cord and pinning him to the sandbagged floor.
Scrambling down to the floor of the sniper post, Achara quickly knelt beside Gavin and felt for a pulse, making sure there was none. Then she took the compass out of her tunic pocket, twisted top and bottom in opposite directions, and set the now-transmitting emergency beacon on one of the still-intact sandbags.
Having done that, she picked up Gavin’s M4 carbine, pulled the partially-empty magazine out of the familiar weapon, and loaded it with a full magazine from the nearby assault vest.
Then, after going through the same re-loading steps with Gavin’s pistol, she set both weapons on the floor beside her, leaned back against the sandbag wall and stared out at the distant hillside as she tried to catch her breath; wondering, as she did so, if the man she had come to treasure was still alive.
On the Road leading to the Maze
Half-way up the barely-visible road leading up the southwest entrance to the Maze, Sergei Draganov was alternately driving the rumbling Snow-Cat™ and explaining to Special Agents Henry Lightstone, Larry Paxton, Dwight Stoner and Mike Takahara how he and his brother had never intended to let things get out of control the way they had — and how it had never occurred to anyone that Borya would actually release the ‘mistakes’ from MAX — when the receiver in Takahara’s hand began beeping wildly.
“That’s the second beacon,” the tech agent said, looking up at his fellow agents. “Guess we’d better hurry up and get our butts up there. Ged might actually be serious about being rescued this time.”
Sniper Post, Base Camp
Exhausted and fearful of what might have happened to Bulatt, Achara Kulawnit was still staring up at the distant hillside when the all-too-familiar voice of Marcus Wallis crackled from the walkie-talkie lying on the floor next to the sprawled and bloodied body of Jack Gavin.
“Gecko-One to Gecko-Three.”
Achara started to crawl over to the crackling walkie-talkie, intent on venting her rage at the man she believed had cold-heartedly killed her brother; but she paused when her gloved hand came down on piece of loose cable.
She lifted the cable up, followed it back to a dark rectangular shape that she immediately recognized as a laptop computer, picked it up in both hands, felt the loose battery with her right hand, shoved the battery back into place, and then blinked in surprise when the laptop screen came alive.
Quickly pulling off her night vision goggles, she stared in amazement at a color graphic of the Maze, and a series of multi-colored icons identified with the letters ‘C1’, ‘PB1’, ‘C2’, ‘PB2’, ‘C3’, ‘BP3’, ‘C4’, ‘PB4’, ‘G1’, ‘G2’, ‘G3’ and ‘X1’. Down near the bottom of the screen, she saw that the icons marked ‘G3’ and ‘X1’ were next to each other above a small red square marked ‘BASE,’ and that the ‘X1’ icon was flashing. At the top of the screen, she saw three tabs, labeled ‘MAZE VIEW’, ‘MANUAL TRACKING’ and ‘AUTO-TRACKING.’
“Gecko-One to Gecko-Three,” the walkie-talkie crackled again, the deeply-Australian-accented voice sounding impatient now; and as it did, Achara saw the ‘G1’ icon briefly flash.
Smiling now in understanding, Achara used the mouse pad on the laptop to activate the ‘AUTO-TRACKING’ tab.
Instantly, a white textbox appeared in the center of the screen: weapon disconnected from computer
In the darkness, Achara fumbled around until she found the small flashlight in one of the assault vest pouches. She turned it on, pulled the IR-gel-filter off the front of the lens, swept the narrow beam around the inside of the sniper post, and saw the M107 rifle lying against the sandbag wall.
Keeping her head low, because she could no longer see outside, she picked up the heavy weapon, examined the telescopic sight, saw an empty cable connection, picked up the connector-end of the cable she’d found, screwed it back onto the scope, and then saw the white textbox on the computer screen change to: weapon disconnected from servo
Feeling her heart start to pound, she carefully set the heavy sniper rifle onto the shoebox-sized platform mount that had a large open slot in the middle, moving the weapon around until she felt the entire trigger housing and extended box magazine drop down into place with a solid metallic ‘click’; pushed the opened clamp-lever on the mount forward, feeling the weapon lock into place; heard a series of gears move inside the mechanized platform mount; and then looked over at the screen. The bright white textbox had disappeared, replaced with the flashing words at the top of the screen: select icon target
Smiling grimly now, Achara moved the select-arrow on the screen over to the icon marked ‘G1’ and hit the ENTER key. Instantly, a round circle with a set of cross-hairs in the center appeared — centered on the icon — and a pair of red selection buttons marked ‘FIRE ONE ROUND’ and ‘FIRE TWO ROUNDS’ appeared in the upper right corner of the screen.
“Gecko-One to Gecko-Three, do you copy?” The gravely voice sounding cold and resigned now.
“Yes, Gecko-One, I copy,” Achara snarled into the walkie-talkie microphone, and then clicked the selector arrow on the ‘FIRE TWO ROUNDS’ box.
She heard gears inside the platform mount engage — apparently pressing some kind of rod against the M107’s trigger — and then nothing.
Stunned, Achara stared at a new white textbox in the center of the screen that read: weapon jammed or empty — unjam or reload
Blinking in disbelief, she looked over at the mounted weapon, and saw that the action bar lever was only partially forward — indicating that the inner bolt was locked against an empty magazine. Cursing in Thai now, she quickly unclamped and removed the weapon from the platform mount, and started to remove the empty magazine when Wallis’ voice crackled from the walkie-talkie again.
“Hello, Cave-Two. What did you do, manage a lucky shot on my lad?”
Achara extracted the empty magazine from the heavy rifle, tossed it aside, and looked around for a box of spare magazines.
“A nice thought,” she said, speaking calmly into the walkie-talkie as she spotted a box labeled ‘M107 MAGS — LOADED’ magazines, reached over and pulled one out, “but I’d rather get a lucky one on you.”
“Why would you say something like that, lass?” The gravely voice mocking now.
Achara slid the new magazine in the sniper rifle, pulled the action rod back, released it with a loud ‘clack’, and then pressed the walkie-talkie’s TALK button again.
“Because I think you killed my brother.”
There was a long pause as Achara carefully set the heavy weapon back into the platform mount slot, and slowly pushed the opened side-lever on the mount forward; feeling the weapon lock into place, and hearing the series of gears move inside the mount-structure.
“If it helps any, lass, I didn’t intend for things to work out that way.”
The bright white textbox on the laptop disappeared, replaced with the flashing words at the top of the screen: select icon target
“Then why did you do it?” she asked, speaking softly into the walkie-talkie she held in her left hand as she moved the select arrow on the screen over to the icon marked ‘G1’ and hit the ENTER key. Instantly, a round circle with a set of cross-hairs in the center appeared — centered on the icon — and a pair of red selection buttons marked ‘FIRE ONE ROUND’ and ‘FIRE TWO ROUNDS’ appeared in the upper right corner of the screen.
“Simple answer: your brother and his mates were in the way. Jack and I did what we had to do.”
“Meaning Jack — excuse me — Gecko-Three shot Sergeant Tongproh and the two young Rangers, and you shot my brother?”
“Clever lass. How did you figure that out?”
“I didn’t, Ged did.”
“Ged? You mean your Gunny Sergeant boyfriend?”
“No, I mean Special Agent Gedimin Bulatt, of the United States Fish and Wildlife Service.”
“Ah, that lad. Yes, Agent Bulatt and I have some business to attend to up here; after I deal with Mr. Hateley, of course. After that, if you’re still around, perhaps you and I will have a chat.”
“Fine with me,” Achara replied, her eyes deadly cold as she stared at the flashing icon in the middle of the red cross-hairs. “I just want to tell you something truly ironic first; something a person like you might appreciate.”
“Oh, and what would that be?”
“I want you to know that you’re now in the way of something that I intend to do.”
With that, Achara Kulawnit clicked on the ‘FIRE TWO ROUNDS’ and then turned away to protect her eyes and ears as the billowing fireballs from the M107’s muzzle — punctuated by a pair of concussive roars that seemed to echo across the base camp from all directions — sent two. 50-caliber bullet streaking out into the night.
CHAPTER 43
Bait Pile 1
High on the upper ridge of the Maze now, Gedimin Bulatt was standing behind a large fir tree at the edge of the Mike Hateley’s bait pile, staring back down the hillside that was little more than a blur of falling snowflake clumps and wondering if the sudden cessation of the distant gunshots meant that Achara Kulawnit had been wounded or killed, when he heard the faint voice calling for help.
Hateley?
Moving cautiously from tree to tree in the now-knee-deep snow, knowing that Marcus Emerson could be anywhere in the area now, Bulatt headed toward the faint sound.
Twenty mostly-uphill yards later, he saw the bear; or, at least, what at first looked like a bear.
But as Bulatt cautiously moved closer, he realized the creature was completely unlike any bear he’d ever seen. Big as a grizzly, but with a muzzle that looked more like a bulldog, a neck as big as its oddly-shaped head, and rear legs much shorter than the ones in front; the creature looked like it would have been more comfortable standing upright if it hadn’t been busy growling into the mouth of a small cave.
“Hateley, are you in there?” Bulatt called out.
“Sergeant Bulattus — is that you?!”
“Not exactly; I’m Special Agent Gedimin Bulatt of the Fish and Wildlife Service. What the hell are you doing in there?”
“The damned thing chased me in here. I — ”
At that instant, a. 50-caliber bullet streaked up the hillside and exploded into a big Douglas Fir midway between Bulatt and the strange bear, sending chunks of bark and heartwood flying in all directions; followed almost immediately by the echoing roar of two distant and concussive gunshots.
Sixty yards below Bait Pile 1
Crouched down in front of a large boulder some sixty yards below the ridge line of where Bulatt, Hateley and the bear were located, Marcus Wallis was still staring the walkie-talkie he held in his left hand — amused by the defiance in Archna Kulawnit’s voice — when a fifty-caliber bullet suddenly streaked through the air just above his left shoulder and exploded into the huge rock a few inches from his face.
The violent impact of the Mark 211 650-grain. 50-caliber military bullet traveling at twenty-eight hundred feet-per-second against an immobile mass of granite sent shards of rock and fragments of copper, aluminum and tungsten steel flying in all directions.
Several of the shards and fragments ripped into Wallis’ exposed night-vision goggles, face, neck and arm; sending him and the M40A1 sniper rifle tumbling backwards into the deep snow drifts.
Bait Pile 1
Bulatt dropped down behind the trunk of another Douglas Fir, aiming the. 44 Magnum Smith and Wesson down the hillside, and waiting for some sign of a target; but he heard and saw nothing.
“What was that?” Hateley yelled from inside the nearby cave.
“Hard to tell,” Bulatt called out, still keeping his night-vision-enhanced eyes on the downhill slope. “Maybe the cavalry, maybe not; just stay where you are.”
“You think I’ve got a choice?”
The bear had spun around and bared his fearsome teeth at the sound of the. 50-caliber bullet’s impact against the tree. But then, when nothing else happened, it went back to its position in front of the cave, apparently indifferent to Bulatt’s presence.
Bulatt waited another minute or so, then slowly came back to his feet. This time, apparently warier now, the bear turned his head to follow Bulatt’s movements, exposing cuts on his nose and muzzle — presumably from Hateley’s spear.
“I’m going to get you out of that cave, Mr. Hateley,” Bulatt called out as he slowly approached the cave, trying to keep as little of his body exposed to the downhill slope as possible, “and then I’m going to take you into protective custody.”
“Why would you want to do a damn fool thing like that?” Hateley demanded in a weak voice.
“Because Marcus Emerson and his friends have every intention of killing you; so that you can’t testify as to your presence — and theirs — at the Khlong Saeng Preserve the night four Thai Rangers were executed while trying to do their job.”
“But — but I didn’t — !”
“No, I’m sure you didn’t, Mr. Hateley,” Bulatt said calmly as he continued to slowly approach the bear that had now risen up on its hind legs. “But they did, and that makes all the difference.”
“But how are you going to — ?”
“First I’m going to try to scare this fellow away,” Bulatt said, “and then I’m going to — ”
The rifle shot exploded in the cold night air, sending Bulatt and the bear tumbling to the ground.
“You should know you can’t scare a big fellow like that away, Agent Bulatt,” the voice of Marcus Wallis — sounding different now, as if he was in severe pain — called out from the darkness. “Not when Mr. Hateley is sitting in his cave, and hording the poor fellow’s food cache.”
Bulatt could hear the bear snarling and thrashing around in the snow, and then go quiet.
“That’s one more charge against you, Emerson,” Bulatt called out, “not that it’s going to matter much where you’re going.”
“Oh, and where would that be, Agent Bulatt?”
“Thailand.”
Marcus Wallis’ laugh echoed in the darkness. “I don’t think that will be happening, mate.”
“Really, why not?” Bulatt was watching the downhill slope carefully for the first sign of movement. “Time’s on my side, you know. You and I can trade shots out here all night — or, at least, until the cavalry arrives, which won’t be all that long now — and then you go down. Dead or alive; either way is fine with me.”
“And Mr. Hateley?”
“Yes, I will, I — ”
A second rifle shot detonated in the darkness, somewhere below, causing Hateley to scream out in fear and pain.
“You’re right, Agent Bulatt, time is on your side; but distance is very much on mine. Are you really going to try to stop me from hanging out down here, and plinking away at Mr. Hateley’s lair, with that piss-ant forty-four? Have to be a lucky shot, indeed, mate; and a lot luckier than the one the little lass almost pulled off — God bless her conniving little soul.”
“Hateley, are you okay?” Bulatt yelled out.
“He — he shot at me! My arm, I’m — ”
“Probably just nicked you, judging from all that whining up there. What kind of ‘merchant of death’ are you, anyway, Hateley? Scared by a little ricochet shot? Well, get yourself hunkered down in there, lad, because there’s a lot more just like that one coming your way.” Wallis’ pained laugh echoed in the darkness again. “Bound to hit a vital spot eventually, you know; and then — ”
A sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream echoed out of the darkness; and then silence.
Bulatt waited for a count of sixty.
Still nothing.
Bulatt was in the process of deciding how long it would take him to move to the next tree down — and how long such a move would put him in the cross-hairs of Emerson’s rifle — when a hulking figure suddenly became visible in the falling snow as it slowly trudged up the hill.
Bulatt started to sight on the figure; and then watched, hardly able to believe his eyes, as the huge and horribly swollen figure of Borya staggered up to the top of the hill with M40A1 sniper rifle in one hand and a bloodied obsidian-bladed knife in the other. He stopped beside the fir tree and stared at Bulatt for a long moment.