Collins looked behind him at the fifteen others who stood watching and not advancing on him, then took a quick glance at Alexander, who stood silhouetted in the light streaming from the tent he stood in front of.
“Don’t let me down, Jack, I’m risking a lot here,” the Canadian said.
The Spetsnaz slowly reached to his web belt and removed a large hunting knife. Its edge gleamed in the light of the rising moon, and tinted red by the blazing fire at the center of the camp.
Collins watched the man’s feet first, then he raised his eyes to the arm holding the pointed and very sharp weapon. As his eyes climbed higher, he saw the man’s eyes. They were dull and expressionless, and Jack knew immediately the man was far too confident of the kill. With his hands tied behind his back, Collins slowly turned in a wide circle, his eyes never wavering from the large brute before him.
The guard—standing at least six foot six inches—towered over Jack even though he was slightly bent at the waist. He smiled through his blood-stained teeth and spit again.
Farbeaux watched Jack closely like a future adversary that he needed to study. He admired the calm way Collins took on the man before him. He saw that Jack could have struck out at anytime he wanted, but he knew the colonel wanted to make this man suffer for his assault on his sister and knew the Spetsnaz would eventually make the move that could possibly get him killed.
The large guard lunged at Collins, who easily stepped away from the knife and the man’s heavy body, then he brought his leg high into the air and the boot once more came down—this time on the man’s arm, the one not holding the knife because that was the arm Jack knew the man used for balance. Everyone in camp heard the forearm snap as the large Spetsnaz fell to the ground, immediately rolling and regaining his feet. The useless left arm dangled before him. The man became enraged as he charged again; this time Jack stood his ground and at almost four feet away he once more jumped and kicked out with his foot. This time the blow caught the Russian squarely on the side of his face, the roughness of Jack’s boot ripping the man’s right ear away and sending it into the night.
The Spetsnaz watching couldn’t help it; they started laughing at their comrade’s predicament as his ear took flight. They were acting like this was a prize fight put on for their amusement.
Jack tired of the game. He thought quickly and knew that no matter what just happened to Lynn, he was not a sadist. As the large guard turned, grabbing the right side of his face as he did, Collins lashed out one last time, spinning horizontally in the air, the heel of his right boot catching the man solidly on the cheek bone, sending him flying to the left and down to the ground where he tried to rise, and then flopped into the sand and rock. For his part, Collins hit the ground, unable to balance himself with his hands tied behind his back. He slammed into the rock and sand, and then just lay there, face down, trying to get his thoughts and breathing under control once more.
Alexander started clapping, slow and loud from the tent, making sure everyone of the Spetsnaz mercenaries saw him do it.
“Damn, Jack, my money is still on you when things get tight.” He looked from the downed man to the other Spetsnaz around him. “I hope the lesson here has been learned,” he said, turning toward Sagli and Deonovich. It was Sagli who stepped away from the tent and interpreted what Alexander had just said. The commandos just watched and listened with their newfound respect for the American.
Punchy Alexander said something to Deonovich that the others could not hear. The large Russian raised a brow, but followed his orders. He pulled out a German-made Glock nine-millimeter automatic and quickly stepped up to the man Jack had so ruthlessly put down. Just as Collins rolled onto his side, finally under control, he watched as Deonovich aimed and placed a bullet into the back of the Russian’s head, slamming him back to the ground from where he was attempting to rise.
At that moment all inside the camp heard the drumming of wood on wood. It was quick and sporadic across the Stikine and just to the north. Alexander chose to ignore the strange sound, not wanting to lend credence to it.
“Stupidity will not be tolerated,” Alexander said loudly and waited while his words were delivered in Russian. “This is not a game and you are not dealing with fools.” He turned and watched Sagli say his words. Then he said something to the smaller Russian and watched as he went to the tent and checked on Lynn. He stepped out and nodded to Alexander that the woman was okay. “Allow the colonel five minutes with his sister, then return him to his men.”
Sagli started to reach for Jack to help him to his feet, and then he thought better of it. He nodded toward the tent and Jack, for his part, rolled and sat up. He watched Sagli as he waved some men over to remove the body of their fallen comrade. With one more respectful look at the restrained Collins, Sagli smiled and moved away; as he did, a sudden flash of lightning streaked across the sky and that was soon followed by a massive thunderclap.
Alexander looked over at Everett and Farbeaux and smiled, and then he looked up at the sky where fast-moving black clouds blotted out the moonlight, and then he finally turned away and reentered the large tent.
Jack didn’t stand up, he just tried to get his breathing under control. Hands were on him, around him, and he could smell his sister. It was the same smell she had always had since childhood: one of roses in late summer. Even through the sweat and grime of captivity and the strong odor of antiseptic, he knew it was her, and he buried his head into her body as she hugged him. For the briefest of moments, that hug was enough and they stayed that way for a full minute as the first of the raindrops started falling from a sky that was fast becoming angry.
“You have never ceased to amaze me as to how you can get into so much trouble. How are you doing, little sister?” Jack asked as he finally looked into the bruised face of Lynn.
Both lips were swollen and her left eye was closing from the kick to the face she had just received, compliments of the late Spetsnaz guard just now being tossed out near the river.
Lynn smiled back down at her brother and placed a hand on his cheek. Jack saw the bandage covering her missing finger, but he chose not to dwell on it because of his anger being so close to the surface.
“It’s good to see you, Jack,” she said, shaking her head. “By the way, this is one hell of a rescue.”
“Hey, we have our moments, although this isn’t the best advertisement for us,” he said as he sat up with some effort.
Jack again wiggled toward the front of the tent and made himself as comfortable as possible. He once more took in the appearance of his sister. She was in rough shape, but he knew it could have been far worse with the bunch that had taken her.
“Sorry about Punchy Jack. I knew you two were close.”
“I should have acted on my instincts, sis, the stupid bastard gave himself away in Los Angeles, but I just couldn’t get myself to believe it. You were right all along. Now, if the rest of what you and your bosses think is happening is true, we may have a mess on our hands.”
“Okay, everything we believed about Alexander back at the Farm is true. The trail he left in his computerespionage led us right to him. But what in the hell is he doing out here, Jack?”
“I had a feeling I had screwed up at some point and blown my cover, Jack, where was it?” Punchy asked. He had caught them off guard as he eased himself behind them while they spoke.
“Well, Lynn figured you for one of the bad guys over a year ago. When she told me I was alerted, as one of your closest friends, of course, to watch for Providence that you were as she said: a lying, dirty, treasonous son of a bitch. But to answer your question, confirmation of you going rogue came in L.A. It was the vest. You refused wearing bulletproof vests for fifteen years, swore you would never wear a safety net, that if agents were dumb enough to get shot, they deserved the consequences.” Jack looked up and eyed the larger man. “Personally, I think it was because it made you look fatter than you are.” The words were delivered slow and cold, as was Jack’s way.
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“Damn, I should have remembered that you had a memory to beat all hell.” Alexander raised his coat collar as he examined the sky. Then he looked down at Lynn, who wanted to be sick with him standing so close to her and Jack.
“Why the murder in Seattle, Punchy? I know it wasn’t for a damned diamond, or wagons full of gold. Hell, in your position you could steal half the treasury of the Canadian government and get away with it, so why?” Collins asked.
“It’s called covering our tracks—black operations class 101 at MI-5, Jack, you know that. We didn’t need anyone out there who could lead your intelligence apparatus or Canada’s to us before we had our prize.”
“What about Doc Ellenshaw?”
Punchy Alexander laughed as he leaned down and slapped Jack on the back, then he looked over at Lynn.
“Can you imagine my consternation when Jack’s little girlfriend, Sarah, walked in with the one man we couldn’t find for ten whole years, Professor Ellenshaw? Just who in the hell do you work for, Jack, that you would know a crazy, far-out bastard as that?”
“My new friends are far better than my old ones. By the way, Punchy, you know I’m going to kill you for what you did to the doc, don’t you?” Jack said as the rain started falling in earnest.
Alexander became silent, the laughing had ceased and the humor had gone out of the situation.
“Let me guess at your interest in covering your tracks and why the doc was so prominent in your plans to cover them.”
“Give it a try, Jack,” Alexander said, his smile completely gone.
“Ellenshaw filed a report with the Washington State authorities, or hell, even with Stanford upon his return from Canada in ’68, and you got a hold of that report through computer espionage, which my baby sister here uncovered over a year ago and traced it back to you. With the reports the doc filed he became an interest to you. You tried to find him so he could lead you here without the maps and the journal because of his relationship with L. T. Lattimer, but he was with me in a place you could never imagine, lost to everyone but a select few.” He looked up into the rain at Punchy. “Just what in the hell are you after, Punchy, that would compel you to commit treason and murder innocent people?”
“It took me years and years, Jack, my boy. Using every avenue I could find, any generated report coming from Canada and Alaska. Every word laid down on paper—until I came across an obscure mention of L. T. Lattimer and a gold find back in 1968.” A powerful lightning bolt made Alexander flinch and duck, but both Lynn and Jack saw the smile spread on his lips. “Then my keyword was hit. . . . Keyword—computers made my life so much easier, Jack. One small little word placed into a far-fetched report by a hippy grad student from Stanford University—your Professor Ellenshaw. A guilt-fed report on a missing man in the Canadian wilderness, a man who left behind a description of a place where not only one treasure resided, but possibly two. And tomorrow, I will recover the second item and be off, and you, Jack, will play a large part in the happily-ever-after part of my story. By the way, if that little girlfriend is still at the fishing camp, I’ll tell you, Jack, I wouldn’t mind getting some of that.” Alexander smiled, then that turned into a laugh, and then he turned and made his way out of the heavy rain.
Jack watched Alexander trudge through the rain. Then he saw him turn and face him once more.
“Brainteaser, Jack. Remember our first mission together in 1989, our little foray into the Vancouver wilderness?”
Collins didn’t say anything as the memory of that nighttime HALO drop into Canada back when he was a captain came back to him. The search for the prize was a wild goose chase, as the hundred other missions before that had been. That particular search had been on since October 1962, and now Jack finally realized that his worst fears were confirmed, and that Lynn’s and her bosses at CIA had been on the right track all along, with only one of their theories about Alexander falling far short of the mark.
Punchy saw the concern spread across Jack’s face. He laughed out loud and then turned away, slapping his thighs in laughter.
“Doesn’t sound like he’s speaking about gold, does it?” Lynn asked.
“The son of a bitch has found it, baby sister. You were right; I should have hit the alarm when you first broached Alexander’s actions about the upper Stikine, I just didn’t put it all together.”
“What’s he going to do with what he finds?” Lynn asked.
“If he’s doing what I believe he’s capable of, there could be a civil war brewing, and we’re bound to be caught up in it.”
“Jack, when we saw that Punchy had turned bad at the agency, we only thought he was involved in the separatist movement in Quebec. If it’s not financing he wants, what in the hell is he here for?”
“Your boss at CIA should have let you in on something that used to be above your pay grade, baby sis. He’s after Solar Flare.”
Lynn knew the code name. She always thought it was a military myth, something that was used to make agents have sleepless nights during training.
“What does Alexander need you for?”
Collins knew that everyone being held by Alexander, Sagli, and Deonovich were now pawns in a game that Jack knew he couldn’t win—at least until he knew the rules of that game. They would kill every one of them, and Collins knew there wasn’t anything he could do but cooperate.
“The item he’s looking for, the one the president, your boss and mine, only suspected he was after . . . well, he needs me to use the damnable thing. Jesus, that bomb is here somewhere.”
“You and he were on a joint mission to recover it years ago? He knows you have something he needs.”
“Yes, he needs me, but he doesn’t need you, or them”—he nodded toward his friends—“anymore.”
Lynn became silent as she thought about the trouble she had gotten her brother into just because she happened upon Alexander hacking NSA communications two years before. She shook her head in the pouring rain.
Jack leaned against Lynn and just took her in. He was happy she was alive and that was a good starting point.
“Hey, Jack?” Lynn asked through the pouring rain, and hoping to make the situation somewhat lighter.
“What?” he asked as the Russians arrived to take him back to Everett and the others.
“You have a girlfriend?”
Collins rolled his eyes as he was roughly lifted from the wet ground by the angry Spetsnaz and Jack looked down upon Lynn just as she looked up.
“Go back into your tent, at least you have one, brat!”
WAHACHAPEE FISHING CAMP
Marla and Sarah, with Jason limping along in the middle and being supported by the two women broke into the small clearing and saw the first of the four large Sikorsky helicopters. They ran toward the nearest one, stumbling and tripping until Jason literally bounced off one of the main landing gear and then rebounded to the ground out of breath.
“Now’s not the time, Jason,” Sarah said, out of breath herself, but pulling at Ryan nonetheless. Marla was looking around the clearing, not liking the absolute stillness of it as the far-off lightning illuminated the clearing and cast eerie shadows in all directions.
“We have to hurry, they’re here,” Marla said reaching up and pulling down the staircase.
That was all Ryan had to be reminded of as he pulled himself up and stumbled over to the folding steps. He crawled inside and then rose in the middle of the tight aisle, using the seats to help support him. Marla followed Sarah, and that was when she stopped and looked back out of the chopper, then she tried to exit the Sikorsky.
“The weapons, I dropped them by the door,” she shouted back at Marla.
Marla continued to block her way.
“Leave them, the animals won’t differentiate between us and the attackers anymore. They have their blood up.”
“Jesus, are they animals or humans?” Sarah asked as she turned away angry.
“They’re both,” Marla said as she started to get frustrated. Tears w
ere starting to form in her eyes. “They fall back on instinct in violent situations. My father and grandfather have seen them tear a grizzly to pieces.”
“Great,” Sarah said as she gave up and turned toward the cockpit of the expensive helicopter.
Ryan had managed to squeeze himself into the pilot’s left seat. He was studying the control panel when Sarah entered and pulled herself into the copilot’s seat.
“Just like old times, huh?” Sarah asked just to take her mind off of grizzly bears getting torn to pieces.
Ryan looked over at McIntire and shook his head. “Attempting to fly a Blackhawk was easy. Look at this thing, it’s an executive model Sikorsky that assumes the pilot’s an expert. This is fucking nuts . . . I never have the time to study anything before some idiot asks me to fly it!”
Sarah understood where Ryan was coming from as she looked at the thousand gauges and switches that lined not only the front console but the overhead as well. Still, she was shocked when Ryan reached out and flipped two switches, which produced a loud whine.
“There, at least I got the preheaters online. Okay, we’re in the red, turbines are coming up.”
“Are you sure?” Sarah asked as everything on the main-control panel started flashing, blue, green, and red.
“No, for all I know I could have selected auto-destruct in that sequence of switches.”
Sarah relaxed when she saw through the windscreen that the four bladed rotors slowly start to turn.
“Well, evidently you hit something!”
Marla squeezed between the pilots seats and pointed out of the window to the left.
“Look!”
When Ryan and Sarah both turned their attention on the tree line, they saw one of their Russian assailants break free at a dead run. He was waving his arms wildly trying to get the crew of the helicopter’s attention. Then their eyes widened when something stopped just short of entering the clearing. The animal was huge and blended almost perfectly with its surroundings. They would never have seen it had they not been looking at the blank space behind the Russian at that precise moment.
Primeval: An Event Group Thriller Page 35