“Let me show you how this is done.” Xander’s smile was now nowhere to be found.
But his elbows were.
Those elbows rained down upon Pavlovich’s face like a superstorm of ominous clouds opening up and pouring down cinderblocks on his head. With each annihilating blow, hot purple-red blood spattered Xander and the ground around him. Pavlovich’s skin split like a block of firewood under a razor-sharp axe. Each merciless thud resulted in a pain-filled whimper. Just before Xander thought he might kill him, he sat up on top of him, took Pavlovich’s face in his hands, forcing eye contact, and asked him one last time.
“Did you kill my parents?” His voice was cold enough to freeze boiling water.
Pavlovich’s jaw was slack, clearly broken, yet he still managed to slur his final words. “Fuck your parents, and fuck you.”
Xander let go of his face.
Xander rose to his feet.
Xander crushed what was left of Pavlovich’s skull with the bottom of his heel.
It took a moment for Xander’s wits to return. His heart raced and his entire body heaved with rage. He stalked back and forth beside Pavlovich’s dead body like an animal boasting over its kill. It wasn’t anything Xander thought or saw that broke his murderous trance; it was what he could no longer hear.
The helicopter’s rotors had stopped.
27
Kyle Hamilton Has Trust Issues
Kyle, Jack, and Zhanna landed at a remote private airfield, not far, but far enough from where Zhanna knew her father would be. Sarah, Marv, and Mary were still a couple of hours out, and Kyle had no idea where Xander was. As Bob taxied the plane toward the hangar, Kyle was having a hard time fighting the panic rising from within. These were the moments he could look to his stoic friend, Xander, and his calm would become Kyle’s calm. He looked around the cabin of the airplane. While he was sure the beautiful Zhanna, ex-KGB, and the vastly experienced Jack Bronson were formidable allies, to Kyle they were still strangers. And though they seemed as eager as he was to see this thing through, their motives were their own. Zhanna didn’t really care about Xander. She just wanted to avenge her mother’s death and kill her father. Jack barely even knew Xander, so Xander really wasn’t his concern either. The only thing Jack cared about was clearing his conscience of putting Xander’s mom in the pretzel behind his friend—Xander’s dad’s—back. Kyle heard the phrase on many occasions, the enemy of an enemy is a friend, and while Kyle didn’t see these strangers as enemies, they were friends because they shared Dragov as a common enemy. But was that enough to band them together? Would they lay down their lives for Xander? For Sam? For Kyle himself? Would Kyle lay down his life for them?
The questions and anxiety surrounding the horrible situation they were all in swirled around his consciousness.
Bob chimed in over the intercom, “Kyle, can you come up here for a minute?”
Kyle jumped when the pilot bonged in. It hit him then that Bob was more of an ally than the two seasoned veterans in front of him. Bob had held off the enemy and saved their asses back in Syria. He could have just left them in Syria and worried solely about himself, but he didn’t. It was proven that he was willing to risk his life for Xander. For all of them. A dash of hope sparked somewhere inside of Kyle.
As Kyle got up, Jack asked, “What’s this about? Any idea?”
“Not sure. Be back in a sec.”
Kyle walked to the cockpit. In the few short seconds it took to get there, the plane had stopped and Bob was turned around in his chair waiting for Kyle.
“I don’t like this, Kyle.”
“What’s wrong?” The look on Bob’s face killed what little spark of hope flashed in Kyle just a moment ago.
“Something’s off. I’ve been doing this a long time, and something is not right here.”
“You mean at this airport?”
“Yeah, it’s too damn quiet.”
“Didn’t we choose this place specifically for that reason?”
“We did, but we weren’t going to an abandoned airfield, just a remote one. No working airport is this remote. And I’ve communicated with thousands of air traffic controllers in my day, and I’m telling you, the guy that saw me in . . . I—he wasn’t an air traffic controller.” Bob’s eyes conveyed nothing but sureness.
Kyle had to ask anyway, even though he could see the answer in Bob’s eyes. “You’re sure? He couldn’t just be new?”
Bob just lowered his head and gave it a shake. “No. I’m positive we’ve flown into an ambush. That’s why I stopped at the end of the runway instead of taxiing in.
Just then the radio on the plane chirped. “N800XK, you are cleared to taxi in. Please proceed to hangar three. N800XK, I repeat, please proceed to hangar three.”
Bob said, “What do you want me to do?”
“What do you think? I’m out of my league here.”
“Should we ask one of them?” Bob nodded his head toward the cabin. Zhanna and Jack looked on with focused curiosity.
“Shit. I was just having this argument with myself before you called me up here. I think we can trust them, but I hardly know them.”
“Do you trust me?”
Kyle looked dead into Bob’s eyes. “I remember Syria. I trust you with my life.”
“Then sit down and buckle up. We’re getting the hell out of here.”
28
Blood, Sweat, and Urine
Xander’s ears were pricked, waiting to hear something—anything—from the direction of the helicopter. He waited to hear the voices of soldiers, the rustling of weapons, footfalls crashing on the ground toward him; still there was nothing. The air around him had begun to cool. The sun’s golden light turned to the orange beginning of its descent. The air smelled of blood and fuel. Before he moved forward toward the helicopter at the edge of the trees, he picked up the late Nicoli Pavlovich’s famous ones and twos. Pistols that had seen the end of many an enemy. There were only a couple of bullets left in each magazine; he could tell that by the weight. He quickly ran up another ten yards and behind another tree, his leg throbbing the entire way, inching his way closer to the helicopter. The helicopter that showed absolutely zero signs of life. Almost as if a ghost had flown it in. One more ten-yard move forward and he would be able to get his eyes on it and assess the situation. An eagle screamed overhead, followed by another bird of prey. Soon, Nicoli Pavlovich’s skin and muscle would be picked clean to the bone. A fitting end for a human vulture. Xander’s end may be coming soon, but it was not going to happen out here. Not before he could get to his friends. Not before Dragov’s cold, dead eyes stared back up at him as he joined Pavlovich in the afterlife.
Xander lunged forward and sidled up behind another tree. Through row after row of pine branches, he could see the tail rotor on the army green chopper. He couldn’t see anyone standing around it. Something was off. There is no way Pavlovich would have called for a chopper with no one in it. Maybe this helicopter was meant for him—
Just as the thought crossed his mind, off in the distance that familiar thumping sound echoed across the sky and made its way through the trees to Xander. Another helicopter. So was the first one just a scout? Sent to find our location, then radio for the fully manned chopper? That didn’t seem logical, but he was stuck at the foot of a mountain range in Ukraine.
Two weeks ago Xander would have laughed had you told him that would happen. He should be at home preparing his magnificent racehorse for one of the sport’s greatest glories: the Triple Crown. Instead, more murder. More pain. More of his friends in danger. Xander figured he was becoming more like a cancer than a friend. Everything around him was shrouded in his personal quest for vengeance. Though he felt like sulking, he knew he really didn’t have the time for that, or the time to further speculate on who this bird was meant for. It was either the good guys that flew in first or the bad guys. And only one way to find out.
Xander maneuvered his way through the last hundred yards of trees, zigzagging as gracefully
as a man with a bullet in his calf muscle could possibly zig and zag. After just a few moments he came to the edge of the trees, the helicopter only twenty yards in front of him. The second helicopter closing quickly from the sky. Xander saw zero movement inside the cockpit. Quickly, he turned to his left, then his right, then behind him. Even though he did a scan on his way to the tree line and saw no one, it made him paranoid when the pilot was nowhere to be found. He, or they, could very easily have gone off and hidden while Xander was stuffing his heel through Pavlovich’s forehead. But Xander had a certain feel for these things. At least he used to. His judgment in general lately, especially about people, had been at best a little suspect. He didn’t like the feeling of questioning himself. He wasn’t used to it, because it simply never happened.
Xander turned back toward the helicopter, determined. He couldn’t wait any longer. If he was lucky enough to have an ally in this chopper, he knew he wouldn’t be that lucky twice as the now visible second helicopter was closing fast. Xander sprinted for the front of the chopper, his arms extended in front of him, pistols in hand. He made it to the chopper and put his back up against the exterior, looking right, toward the open-air entrance on the side.
“You’ve got five seconds to exit the helicopter, hands on your head, before I come in and kill you. FIVE.”
“FOUR!” He heard nothing.
“THREE!” Nothing but the closing thump of sure death that was the second chopper.
“TWO!” Still nothing, Xander readied himself for an entrance.
“ONE—”
“WAIT!” Xander heard as he turned the corner. His finger almost too heavy on the trigger to stop the shot. Inside the empty cabin of the unmarked military chopper, a scrawny, wild-haired young man lay on the floor, his hands above his head, and the fear of God on his face. As soon as he saw Xander, the fear on his face went from scared to piss-your-pants terrified. “Aaaahhhh!” A high-pitched, teenage-girl scream leapt from the lungs of the man.
Xander asked, “Who are you?”
A pause, then “Aaaaahhhh!” Another shrill scream as the eyes of the man went from Xander’s eyes, roamed over Xander’s body, and back up to his eyes.
Xander looked down; he was absolutely covered in blood. From head to toe. He wiped his face with the top side of his forearm, and even more blood must have been covering his face. Xander could only imagine the horror movie character he must have looked like.
“Please! Please don’t kill Viktor! I should never have come here! I am good guy!”
“Viktor? Viktor, calm down, I’m Xander. Who sent you?”
Viktor’s face changed in an instant. He went from fear to utter elation. “Xander? You are Xander! Ha-ha! Yes, man! Viktor knew that! I am just playing with you, man!”
Xander looked on, lowering his weapons, confusion on his face. He couldn’t tell if this guy was playing with him or just trying to cover the fact that he was scared out of his mind.
Viktor got to his feet. He was maybe 140 pounds soaking wet, tall and wiry. He wore a white wifebeater, baggy khaki cargo pants, a scraggly beard, Albert Einstein-wild dirty-blond hair, and the goofiest expression on his face that Xander had ever seen.
“I had you, huh? You thought Viktor was really scared!”
The closing in of the helicopter shortened Xander’s assessment of Viktor. “You gonna get me out of here or are you just going to stand there and try to convince me that the wet spot on your pants is from a drink you spilled earlier and not piss that leaked from you as you were screaming like a little girl?”
Viktor’s head snapped down toward his crotch, then he looked back up with an embarrassed smile. “Oh, Xander King is funny man. I like funny man! Sure, let’s get out of here.” He motioned over his shoulder in the direction of the oncoming helicopter. “Viktor not so sure that next ride will have hero like Viktor waiting to save you.”
Xander smiled internally as he pulled himself up into the helicopter. “Then we’d better get going.” He walked past Viktor and straight to the passenger seat in the cockpit.
Viktor followed him to the front. “You did not really think Viktor was scared, did you? Come on! I know you would not think that.”
Xander didn’t say anything as he buckled up. Viktor took the seat beside him, a worried look on his face. “Seriously, I was not scared. I’ve killed hundreds of men. Nothing scares Viktor Panchak!”
Xander’s eyes roamed over Viktor’s physique. Clearly not a man who had ever served in any sort of actual combat. “Whatever you say, Viktor, just make sure you crack a window on the way up. I don’t wanna smell urine the entire flight to Moscow.”
For the first time Viktor’s face sagged a bit. Then the smile popped right back on. “Oh, Viktor get it. You funny guy!”
Xander looked up at the incoming helicopter and let out a sigh. Viktor fired up the chopper. If they made it off the ground, it was going to be one hell of a long flight.
29
Upside Down and Inside Out
As the engines of the G6 screamed to life, Jack, Zhanna, and Kyle peered out the window and watched as jeeps, cars, motorcycles, and vans poured out of every orifice of the airport like an ant colony taking on water. There must have been over a dozen of them coming straight for the runway.
Kyle turned in his seat, one eye on the oncoming army, one toward the cockpit. “Bob! It’s now or never!”
Just then the engines began to wind down, almost like they were letting out a sigh of relief.
“Bob! What the hell, man?”
Kyle heard a seatbelt click, and then Bob came walking down the aisle. “Bob, wh—”
“They have surface-to-air missiles,” Bob said, dejected. “There’s no way out. Believe me, if there was I would find it.”
“We have to try. They take us and we’re dead!”
Zhanna unbuckled her belt. “He is correct, my father would not hesitate to shoot us down. This way we at least have chance. Not good chance, but chance.”
Kyle’s face knotted up. He’d been captured before, and it was absolutely the worst memory of his life. “So, that’s it? We just . . .”
Kyle’s voice trailed off. He noticed Jack reaching for the phone. Outside, the horde of Dragov’s bloodthirsty minions began to surround the plane.
“Mary, this is Jack . . . There’s no time, just listen. We are in Moscow, and we are being taken. All of us. Domodedovo Airport is compromised. I would imagine any other airport near here will be as well. You, Marv, and Sarah have to find another way in.” He paused. “No, no word from Xander. Mary, no, no Mary, they are approaching the plane now. We should have known better.”
Viktor fired up the engine, and the rotors began to whirl to life. At the same moment, the second helicopter was descending toward them. Viktor pulled back on the yoke, and they began to lift off the ground.
Xander shouted, “How well can you fly this thing?”
Viktor looked over at Xander wide-eyed with a grin full of tobacco-stained teeth. “Viktor is best pilot in Ukraine!”
Xander couldn’t tell just how off his rocker Viktor was, but he certainly had no confidence in his self-proclamation. As he pulled the bird into the air, the other chopper followed, its front end seemingly grimacing back at them. “I saw the missiles were stripped, this thing got any ammo in the chain gun?”
“They make Viktor get rid of ammunition.”
Oh hell.
“But Viktor never really get rid of ammunition!”
Oh hell, yes.
“Viktor thought, just in case, when I left, and put ammo in chain gun! Ha-ha!”
Off his rocker or not, at that moment, Xander wanted to kiss that crazy bastard. “You ever been in a dog fight?”
“I play lots of Call of Duty, so don’t worry!”
Oh hell.
Viktor turned the yoke to his left and then pushed it forward; their helicopter lurched forward and the Russians followed immediately behind him. Xander unbuckled his belt and made his way back to the ope
ning in the side of the chopper. The wind whipped around the cabin as Xander grabbed the metal handle and looked back behind them. He really couldn’t be in a worse spot. He felt helpless. Just then sparks flew from under the Russian chopper’s fuselage. A split second later, bullets zipped under Xander’s feet and then he heard a clank-clank-clank-clank as several of them bore into the side of their helicopter. Xander dove back inside the cabin and pulled his pistols.
“Viktor! We have to get behind them! It’s our only shot!”
Before Viktor could respond, a buzz-buzz-buzz clamored from the cockpit.
Missile lock.
Viktor shouted after he jerked the yoke, “Hold on to pecker, Xander King!”
The helicopter jerked east and Xander slid toward the opening of the cabin. Just as his feet dangled out into the open air, Viktor jerked the yoke in the opposite direction, sending Xander flipping toward the other side of the chopper. BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ continued to scream from being locked in the Russian’s missile sites. Xander jumped to his feet, slid back across the chopper, and looked back out the opening just in time to see a missile dislodge from under the Russian bird.
“Countermeasure! Hit the antimissile flares!” Xander screamed, hoping against hope that they had never been removed. The missile was halfway to them now, and just as Xander was about to turn away in hopes of finding a parachute, sparks flew out from behind their chopper. Viktor had released the flares. Their helicopter launched upward, and Xander saw the missile explode midair.
“Ha-ha-ha!” Xander heard from the cockpit. “So that is what that button does!”
Xander’s stomach rolled, and it wasn’t because of the helicopter’s steep ascent. It was because he was hanging on for dear life, which was currently in the hands of a madman. Xander fought against gravity and worked his way back up to the cockpit, just in time to hear the BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ alert of another oncoming missile.
Xander King BoxSet Page 42