Laynie Portland, Spy Resurrected

by Vikki Kestell

  Ksenia whispered, “I am ready, Mader.” Her voice shook.

  “Hang on with both hands under your chin. Hug the rope tight to your body. Do not let go.”

  Laynie called up the shaft, “Pull!”

  Black, Asmeen, and Mariam pulled. Ksenia rose several feet. Laynie heard creaking as the braided rope stretched—followed by the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing.

  Laynie was weak, close to despair. Lord Jesus, please help, I don’t know if I can catch her again!

  But the snap of the rope letting go did not reach her ears—and Ksenia did not fall. She disappeared over the cistern’s edge.

  Laynie sagged against the wall in relief.

  Thank you! Oh, thank you, God!

  Black’s silhouette reappeared over the edge of the cistern. “Next?”

  “Send down the rope. I’ll send up Ksenia’s abaya.”

  The rope of scarves came down. She tied Ksenia’s abaya and her own to it. They hauled them up.

  A moment later, Black whispered, “Your turn.”

  “Take the girls out of here, Black. Get them to safety.”

  “What? No! We need to get you out next.”

  “You can’t. The rope barely held for Ksenia. It will tear under my weight. The best you can do is to let Wolfe know where I am.”

  “Uh-uh. No way. You’re coming with us—in fact, I can’t get past Sayed and his guards without you.”

  He must have conferred with the girls. When he finally spoke again, he said, “We’ve tied knots in the rope where it is weakest. The knots made the rope shorter, but we will be able to pull you up now.”

  Laynie thought for a long moment and considered the note of false hope she detected in his voice. She knew how rotted the veils were. Black had to know how rotted the veils were. This was his last-ditch effort.

  If the rope gives way while they are hauling me up, I’ll fall again—and that’ll be it.

  “Please don’t waste any more time, Black. Take the girls and go!”

  Instead, the end of the rope of veils floated before her eyes. Not enough length for her to get a foot into the loop.

  Black’s voice came down. “Ksenia says, ‘Trust God. No fear.’”

  Laynie muttered under her breath, “Typical teen . . . throw my advice back in my face.”

  Laynie felt her hot, swollen arm. The swelling was making its way into her armpit. Only one option remained open to her. She put her good wrist through the loop, then wound the rope twice around her palm so her wrist would not have to bear all the stress.

  “Pull away.”

  Laynie’s felt her arm go taut when the rope took her weight. Her shoulder complained—and then it screamed.

  As Black and the girls grasped for additional purchase, the rope went a little slack. When they hauled on it, she felt the bone in her shoulder slip out of joint. The pain was excruciating.

  Laynie shut her mouth and her mind to the agony.

  She was unconscious when they hauled her over the edge.

  Chapter 38

  LAYNIE AWOKE WITH FOUR anxious faces hovering over her. She tried to move. “Where are we?”

  “Hold on, Magda.” Black slowly moved her right arm. “How’s that feel?”

  “Sore. Not too bad. Oh. Yeah.”

  “Yeah, we dislocated your shoulder pulling you out. You were out cold, so we carried you halfway down the tunnel, away from the other girls so we wouldn’t awaken them. While you were unconscious, I—we—popped your shoulder back into place.”

  He still looked concerned. “Your other arm, though, is in bad shape.”

  “I know. It’s infected, but I need to power through and take care of it later.”

  “Well, the only way out of here is the escape ladder inside Sayed’s quarters.”

  “A ladder? How far is the climb?”

  “Pretty far.”

  “I see.”

  “We’ll worry about that when we’re there. Our next step is to get past the main junction and into Sayed’s salon. If we can surprise or ambush Sayed’s guards and take their guns without raising an alarm, we should be able to subdue Sayed himself.

  “And actually, I think Ksenia has come up with a workable idea. She’s going to lure the guard away from Sayed’s door . . . right to me.”

  AN HOUR BEFORE DAWN, two American Sikorsky MH-60 Black Hawk helicopters lifted off from an isolated airfield outside of Grozny. They followed four Russian Armed Forces helos, variants of the Russian military’s Mil Mi-8 combat helos.

  Two of the Russian helos were serving primarily as troop transport for the thirty-six crack ground troops riding in their bellies. The remaining two helos were gunships bristling with fearsome armament—each carried KV-4 12.7mm nose-mounted machine guns, two door gunners hanging from either side, and a full complement of S-5 rockets—tank killers.

  The combined force was in the air, headed due south from Grozny, into the dense Chechen mountains not far from the Chechen province’s border into Dagestan.

  The Americans were prepped for a hard-fought rescue. The Russians were primed for an extermination—after their rescue assist to the Americans. The Russian troops intended to lop off the head of the particularly vile separatist group known as All Glorious for Allah.

  Tobin and Wolfe, strapped into the second Black Hawk, wore the same basic combat gear as Fenelli’s assault team: fatigues, tactical boots, body armor, and helmets. Tobin carried a modified first-aid kit in a light pack. He and Wolfe wore sidearms and carried extra mags. That was the extent of their similarity to the American assault group.

  Fenelli, good as his word, had told them hours ago, “Our Black Hawk will drop us on the ground outside the entrance to the tunnels. Your helo and its door gunner will fly overwatch—with you in it. As you have no need for rifles, you will not carry them. You may listen to my radio communications and monitor the assault along with the pilots.

  “When we have penetrated the cave system and subdued AGFA forces, I’ll radio your helo permission to land and send an escort to bring you inside. If the rescue is successful, your people will ride with you and our medic back to Grozny. Any questions?”

  “No, sir,” Tobin had answered.

  Wolfe shook his head.

  Now, as they approached the battle, Tobin prayed. Lord God. You have moved mountains to get us this close to bringing Laynie home—and I am grateful. I pray for every soldier entering into this battle. O God, be merciful to them . . . and to Laynie, I ask in Jesus’ name.

  KSENIA, ALONE, WALKED quietly into the junction. She peered into the cavern and down the main tunnel. Seeing no one, she signaled behind her.

  Black ran forward and disappeared into the cavern. When he rejoined Laynie and the girls in the side tunnel, he was armed with the coal shovel from the cavern’s furnace.

  Ksenia advanced again, just as quietly. She walked into the junction and turned left into the passage leading to Sayed’s quarters. When the guard standing post at the entrance to Sayed’s salon noticed her, she whirled around and quick-walked back to the junction, then toward the cell’s tunnel.

  “There is but one,” she whispered to Black as she walked by. When the guard entered the junction looking for her, he saw her partway down the tunnel—just past the side tunnel to the kafir women’s cell.

  “Hey!” he called softly. “What are you doing out here?”

  She beckoned to him. As he drew closer, she pointed farther down the tunnel and walked that way.

  The guard never saw Black emerge from the side tunnel behind him with the shovel in his hands. They dragged his unconscious body into the side tunnel and bound and gagged him with his belt and socks.

  Black handed Laynie the man’s sidearm. She could fire it one-handed. He took the rifle. The five of them retraced the guard’s route and stepped into Sayed’s salon without being seen.

  “Behind that tapestry,” Black pointed. “I will take care of Sayed.”

  Laynie led the three girls to the tapestry and d
rew it back. The alcove within was utterly dark.

  “Hold hands.” They joined hands, forming a single line.

  When the tapestry dropped behind them, they could see nothing. Laynie felt her way toward the farthest wall, pulling the line along with her. There. She ran her hand along the wall, looking for the opening Cossack had told her she would find.

  She gathered them close. “Ksenia, you will go first.”

  “Asmeen must go first, Mader.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I am to make sure you can climb. I will push you, if you need it.”

  Ksenia continued, “Asmeen, Black says slide on your back for three feet. The passage will open over your head. Stand and find the ladder. Climb. Do not stop. We will be right behind you.”

  Laynie had Ksenia add, “It is a long climb. Rest a minute if you need to, but don’t give up.”

  Asmeen and Mariam started up the ladder, following Ksenia’s instructions.

  “Now, you, Mader.”

  Laynie found Ksenia’s cheek in the dark and kissed her. “My good girl. I’m very proud of you.” Ksenia reached her arms around Laynie and hugged her—until Laynie hissed and pulled back.

  “I am sorry. I forgot your arm.”

  “We have many years of hugs ahead of us, little daughter.”

  “You will . . . you will not leave me behind when you go to your home?”

  “No. Asmeen and Mariam have families they can return to. But you? Even should we be separated temporarily, I would come back and claim you as my own.”

  “All right, ladies,” Black whispered behind them. “Time for that later.”

  “Did you find your phone?”

  “Yes. In the same drawer where Sayed’s servant keeps the satphone.”

  “And Sayed?”

  “I found him asleep in his bed. I woke him, let him see me, then knocked him out and left him trussed up like a Christmas turkey. But on the off chance someone raises the alarm? I’ll remain here and hold them off until you reach the top and are safely out.”

  He felt for her hand, placed something in it. “Take the phone. I’ve already activated the beacon. As soon as you hit unobstructed air, the orbiting satellites will pick up the beacon’s signal.”

  Laynie tucked the phone into the pocket of her abaya. “Thank you, Black. I . . . I won’t forget what you’ve done for me . . . for us in this place.”

  “I won’t forget, either, Magda, but you don’t owe me anything. No, it was me. I owed you, and I . . . I couldn’t believe it when I first realized you were here. I still find it hard to fathom why, of all people, it was you . . . except that we had unfinished business, you and I. So I’m glad . . . I’m thankful that we were here, together. That we are both able to put that chapter of our lives to rest. At long last.”

  He nudged her. “Now go, Mags. Leave this cursed place and go back to that lucky man you told me about. Don’t worry about the climb. Ksenia will push you from behind if you tire or your arm gives out.”

  Laynie smiled in the dark alcove. “She told me.”

  “Then go—”

  The sound was unmistakable. The rumble of an explosion followed by heavy weapons fire, far down the tunnels, in the direction of the mining cars at the entrance. An assault.

  “Get going, Magda. Don’t slow down and don’t stop.”

  Laynie lay on her back and tried to propel herself backward into the first part of the tunnel, but her swollen left arm was nearly useless.

  “Mader, stiffen your legs. I will push you.”

  Ksenia pushed Laynie until she could sit up, reach the first rung, pull herself to standing, and begin the arduous climb. Each step was more than difficult—it was tedious and agonizing. She had to hook her swollen elbow around a rung while she reached for the next one to pull herself up. This she did, time after time, making slow but steady progress. When her limbs began to shake from the stress, Laynie leaned back and rested against the opposite wall.

  She knew Asmeen and Mariam were far ahead of them. Would reach the exit long before she did—until, above her, Mariam called softly down the shaft.

  “What did she say, Ksenia?”

  “She says Asmeen has reached the end of the tunnel and there is only rock above her, not a way out!”

  Laynie’s fatigue and pain were so great, that at the realization they might have placed their hope in an unfinished escape route, she momentarily blanked out.

  “Mader? Mader!”

  “I-I’m all right. Tell . . . tell Asmeen to run her fingers all around the tunnel walls. Tell Mariam, too.”

  Laynie and Ksenia waited, silent and somber, in the utterly dark shaft.

  Mariam called again. Laynie could hear the relief in her voice.

  Ksenia relayed to Laynie, “Mariam says there is another tunnel in the wall behind them. It does not go up but seems to lead away from the ladder, sloping a little downward. They must leave the ladder and crawl down this new tunnel.”

  Laynie roused herself. Not up? Then it has to be heading toward a valley.

  Mariam spoke again.

  “Asmeen took off her abaya so she could crawl. She is pushing it ahead of her.”

  “Yes, a good idea,” Laynie replied—but she shuddered as a wave of claustrophobia washed over her.

  O God! We are wholly surrounded by rock, yet still in your hands. Please lead us out of this darkness!

  Laynie shook with fever, but she forced her body to repeat her slow and painful upward course.

  Hook elbow around rung. Ignore pain. Reach up. Step up. Pull up.

  Hook elbow around rung. Ignore pain. Reach up. Step up. Pull up.

  Hook elbow around rung. Ignore pain. Reach up. Step up. Pull up.

  When instead of the next rung, she banged her hand against unyielding rock, Laynie stepped down a rung and reached her hand to the wall behind her.

  Empty space. The edges of another shaft. Nearly horizontal, but sloping downward.

  “Take off my abaya,” she murmured to herself. She rolled it up and pushed it into the tunnel ahead of her. Belly-crawled inside. Inched forward.

  Move. Keep. Move. Keep. Move. Keep. Move.

  Laynie must have stopped, because she felt Ksenia’s fingers wrap around her ankle.

  “Jesus, help Mader, please.”

  Move. Keep. Move. Keep. Move. Keep. Move.

  And then Mariam’s voice flowed over Laynie. “Lay-nee! Lay-nee!”

  “Mader! Asmeen has opened the door at the end of the tunnel!”

  A cool breeze touched her and light stung Laynie’s eyes.

  Yes. Move. Keep. Move. Keep. Move. Keep. Move.

  THE BLACK HAWK SLOWLY circled the valley just south of the mine entrance. After the initial assault, Tobin and Wolfe could see nothing of the battle raging below them—within the mountain. They could only imagine it.

  An hour passed. The dissident defenders were well-armed, but they had no ammunition resupply available to them. As the Russians and Americans pushed farther and farther into the cave system, slowly taking ground, the dissidents would eventually run out of ammunition and space to retreat. If it weren’t for the hostages inside, the Russians would have simply set charges and brought the mountain down on top of the enemy. End of story.

  “Sir!” The copilot sought Wolfe’s attention, tapped his headphones. “Sir!”

  Wolfe’s head came up. “What is it?”

  “Message from your home office was transferred to us, sir—status urgent. According to the call, NOAA picked up a personal locator beacon signal from this location fifteen minutes ago.”

  “From this location? Here?”

  “Yes, sir.” The copilot rattled off the beacon’s number.

  Wolfe recognized it instantly. He turned to Tobin and mouthed, “Cossack.”

  Tobin signaled that he understood.

  Wolfe said, “That beacon has to be transmitting in open air in order for NOAA’s polar orbiting satellites to pick it up.” He asked the pilot, “Can we go lowe
r and circle the area, scan for people on the ground?”

  “Makes us more vulnerable to ground fire, sir.”

  “Wouldn’t we have already taken fire if there were hostiles on the ground? I have a man down there right now, calling for immediate extract.”

  The pilot shrugged. “Yes, sir. Descending now—gunner at the ready. Vasquez? Keep your eyes peeled.”

  Wolfe and Tobin grabbed binoculars, and both of them strapped themselves into door gunner “monkey” harnesses that hooked to points on the cabin floor. The door gunner was already standing in the open starboard door. Tobin sat in the doorway beside him, legs hanging in the open air, scanning the ground below them. Wolfe stood behind him.

  Tobin tapped Wolfe’s foot and pointed. “Two o’clock. That’s a directional antenna.”

  “For AGFA’s satphone?”

  Tobin nodded. He trained his binoculars around the antenna, looking for a hatch or for Wolfe’s operative. But the protruding shoulder of the mountain, while an ideal location for the antenna, would require the use of climbing gear for a man to descend into the valley.

  The valley. Tobin walked his glasses down the mountain toward the valley, then shifted them and walked them back up—

  “Director!” Tobin pointed straight down. “Six o’clock!”

  The pilot banked right. Beneath them, four Muslim women huddled in the snow on the slope, an open hatch nearby. One of them turned her face up to the helicopter.

  Tobin adjusted his binoculars. The woman’s face came into focus—and his heart thundered in his chest. “Oh, thank you, God! Wolfe, look—it’s Bella!”

  “Bring her around,” Wolfe ordered.

  As they circled again, a man climbed from the hatch. He pulled a rifle out of the tunnel after him.

  The gunner exclaimed as he brought his gun to bear, “Sir, that’s an enemy combatant!”

  “No! Hold your fire!” Wolfe shouted. “Hold your fire. That’s my man.”

  In a calmer voice, he said, “Now, if you please, take us down. Close as you can. Those are our people.”

  THE CHOPPER FLARED and inched toward the ground. Tobin unclipped and dragged off his harness. He was out the door, running, before the wheels touched down. He clambered up the rugged slope, scrambling over rocks and through patches of snow and ice.