Betrayed 02 - Havoc

by Carolyn McCray

  “I know exactly where Brandt is headed,” Aunush answered, pleased to see the shock cross Hsu’s features before he put on that MSS mask.

  It took a single heartbeat for the career spy to answer. “Your men will be assembled upstairs.”

  Like she said. Not ideal, but she’d take it.

  Rebecca glanced out the window of the plane. In the distance the Alps rose before them. White-capped and majestic. And quite the bitch to get over given the storm system moving in from the north. A late spring storm.

  Although Lopez appeared quite invigorated by the bustling winds. With no clouds in the sky yet, the wind sheet coming ahead of the storm seemed like an invisible hand smacking them around the sky. They’d already “lost air,” a colloquial term for basically falling out of the sky several hundred feet until Lopez got the jet under control again.

  To avoid any lingering “hard feelings” in Hungary since their last visit, Lopez had charted a northern course across the Ukraine, over Slovakia, and finally arcing over Austria, coming into Slovenia from the north. For the most part they had avoided populated cities, instead streaking over Eastern Europe with the skies practically to themselves.

  Now though? Heading into Austria? Civilization lay under them like an urban carpet. That is until the valley floor abutted against the towering mountains. Mountains notorious for their fickle weather.

  “Everybody buckle up,” Lopez said over the intercom. “It is going to get bumpy from here.”

  Great. If Lopez thought it would be bumpy...

  Bunny rustled in the seat next to Rebecca. “Where are we?” the younger woman asked.

  “Just about to go over the Alps into Slovenia. We should land in Ljubljana within the hour.”

  The intercom cut in. “Make that forty-five minutes...max.”

  Rebecca corrected. “Less than an hour then.”

  Davidson reached over across the aisle and handed Bunny a water bottle. “Best you get hydrated as soon as possible.”

  After downing half the bottle, Bunny wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Thanks,” she said, then looked more closely at the scarred face. Davidson tilted away, pretending to suddenly become interested in one of the onboard magazines. “Are you the same soldier from France?”

  Davidson gave a brusque shrug of his shoulder and then really delved into that Sky Mall catalog, but Bunny reached her hand out. “I never got a chance to thank you.”

  Reluctantly Davidson extended his hand, riddled with the crisscrossing of a dozen scars. Bunny shook it, then traced one of those purplish lines. When Davidson tried to pull back, Bunny raised the edge of her shirt to reveal her midriff. Rebecca flinched at the cracked-glass appearance of the skin. Bunny too had deep and extensive scars. It truly was shocking she’d survived those injuries back in France.

  “My physical therapist said those like us are joined by more than just damaged collagen,” Bunny said, then tucked her blouse back into her pants.

  Davidson gave an unintelligible mumble and went back to shopping for useless consumer electronic goods. As Bunny took another swig of the water, Rebecca sought Brandt’s gaze across the aisle. His eyes flickered from Davidson to Bunny and then back. She could practically read the sergeant’s thoughts.

  Easy to say if you weren’t the one betrayed.

  Even Rebecca wished to wipe the memory of that horrible night from her mind. To remove the memory of his betrayal and just see Davidson for what he was now, as Bunny could. Rebecca wished she could trust Davidson the way Bunny clearly did. Like Davidson and Bunny’s physical scars, Brandt and Rebecca wore theirs deeper down. The cord of trust frayed, burned, and tattered.

  The seat belt suddenly cut into her thighs as the jet fell from the sky. Really fell. It was like riding one of those amusement park free-fall attractions, only at 32,000 feet in the air. Or at this rate 31,000 feet. Now 30,000.

  She dug her fingers into the hand rest as Bunny’s nails dug into her hand. Rebecca’s teeth chattered as the entire plane shimmied violently. She wouldn’t be surprised if screws undid themselves or the wings sheared off. Then as suddenly as the weightless sensation come on, Rebecca’s butt hit the seat cushion as the jet’s engines kicked in again, surging them forward.

  “No worries, people,” Lopez chuckled. “That little drop just saved us time on the descent.”

  Rebecca was glad someone could laugh about it. Because she certainly couldn’t.

  Tightening her seat belt, Rebecca dug in for a rough forty-five minutes.

  Aunush finished dressing as her sniper entered the small room. Nannan, looking decidedly far worse for the wear, joined them. None spoke. The room was bugged, there was no doubt. Even Nannan sensed it. From here on out they would need to be extremely careful in their choice of words. That was until their Chinese details outlived their usefulness.

  Holstering the sidearms provided, Aunush noted they were American issue, not Chinese. Guess it would be a tad difficult to explain to the international press if anything went wrong why Jewish mercenaries were carrying Chinese guns.

  The sniper checked out the rifle provided to replace the one damaged from the desperate tumble out of the GUM building. He grunted his approval and then broke the weapon down, securing it in its case. Nannan simply stood there, shell-shocked, dark-eyed, and limp-lipped.

  Slapping him on the shoulder, then digging her nails his thick arm, Aunush guided them out of the room and followed the short hallway to a staircase that led them up to the roof. A helicopter awaited. She quickly calculated how far away the Chinese had taken them. Did they go all the way back to China? Or maybe south to Pakistan?

  They were halfway across the roof when Aunush stopped in her steps. She looked over the railing to find...Moscow.

  The Chinese hadn’t transported her anywhere. They were at the Chinese consulate in Moscow. As Commander Hsu walked up, she assessed the man a bit more admirably. That took balls. To torture and interrogate them right under the Russians’ noses?

  Hsu nodded to the twelve men already loaded in the helicopter. “The helo will transport you to the airport, where you will fly under diplomatic colors to...?”

  “Lay in a flight plan to the Alps,” Aunush answered, “and I will instruct your pilot of our final destination once we are close.”

  Her unspoken words were loud and clear. Once we are outside the influence of the Chinese government.

  The commander nodded curtly though. Why wouldn’t he? Aunush was certain that the Chinese assault squad had their own termination orders for her and her team.

  So be it.

  They were two scorpions in a dance where they promised to only sting their enemies. As soon as Brandt and the Rinderpest were neutralized, that dance would turn deadly.

  Without further pleasantries, Aunush loaded into the helicopter as the sniper and Nannan followed suit.

  For the first time since their capture Aunush felt hope stir in her chest. Brandt and Monroe didn’t have the perk of diplomatic clearance. Their team must have spent the night on a slow and deliberate attempt to flee overland. They couldn’t have taken to the air until they were outside Russian borders. Which meant Brandt had lost hours upon hours of lead time.

  Aunush was but a few hours behind them.

  She held onto a hand strap as the helicopter lifted off the roof and sped across Moscow.

  To think. The tablets of the Ten Commandments might be within her reach by nightfall.

  She could feel the rough stone against her fingers already.

  What a fine present for the master. No one would question Osip’s death if she brought such a prize back to the shrine.

  No one.

  Brandt tried to ignore the rattling of the plane as they descended down the west slope of the Alps and headed into nearly gale-force winds. Hail bounced off the surface of the plane. Rain fell in sheets. Lopez must have been flying by instruments only.

  Which, of course, the corporal would brag about.

  “We’ve got a conve
ctive storm, guys,” Lopez announced.

  Great, Brandt thought. Another feather in the corporal’s cap. They were going to hear about this forever.

  Suddenly the pelting stopped. Everything stopped. The wind. The rain. The sleet.

  Not good.

  “Hang on!” Brandt shouted as the jet got knocked by a striation of the storm. They must be sitting right under the anvil.

  “What’s happening?” Rebecca asked, her lips pinched together. She was trying to be brave, but the jet was getting knocked around like one of those balls in the lottery spinner.

  Brandt unhooked his seat belt and, gripping each chair back, made his way to the cockpit. Lopez struggled with the yoke as Talli focused on the weather pattern.

  “Wind speed increasing rapidly and we’ve got updraft starboard.”

  “Still no thunder or lightning?” Lopez asked, sounding uncharacteristically subdued.

  “Nope,” Talli reported.

  Fuck.

  There had been a storm in the region like this back in ’06. It had practically taken out four countries’ entire infrastructure. Power transformers. Streetlights. Bridges.

  And just like back then, the region had just experienced an early heat wave followed by a cold moist storm from the north. And the lack of lightning? That was an extremely poor sign. This storm had all the characteristics of tornadogenesis.

  “What’s ground control saying?” Brandt asked.

  “They want to wave us off to the south.”

  Brandt glanced to the map. South was Croatia. And given how large the storm was spreading out across the Alps and valleys, they wouldn’t be able to get back into the air for hours, if not days. Yet looking out the window at that huge black wall of roiling, churning, angry clouds up ahead, Brandt wasn’t sure if they had any other option.

  “Can you do it, Ricky?” Brandt asked, not in the mood to give an order to the corporal to land under some of the roughest conditions known to mankind.

  “Phfph,” Lopez snorted. “Try and stop me.”

  “Yes,” Talli said, although Brandt wasn’t sure if the perimeter specialist was kidding or not. “Please stop him.”

  Talli’s opinion didn’t really matter though. The mission’s objectives did.

  “All yours then,” Brandt informed Lopez. South just wasn’t an option. Not if Lopez felt confident he could get them on the ground.

  The corporal hit the radio switch. “Control, be warned we lost radar and your beacon about a minute ago.”

  Yeah, Brandt thought, that would have been nice information to know before he gave the all-go.

  “Once I get sight of your lights,” Lopez explained, “I’m going to be coming down on your heads.”

  Brandt was sure control wasn’t all that thrilled about the prospect.

  “Sarge, you better buckle up,” Lopez said as he strained to keep the jet upright. “No guarantees we’re landing wheels down, if you know what I mean.”

  Unfortunately, Brandt did.

  After the sarge got himself situated in the seat in front of him, Davidson readjusted his seat belt. The jet would go nose up to nose down in a fraction of a second. And as they entered the storm they cut across the forming funnel cloud.

  Once again hail, rain, and wind buffeted their metal tube. A tube that really had no right to be in the sky under these conditions.

  “I’m just going to go with the odds here,” Lopez announced over the intercom, “and say everyone should assume crash positions.”

  Davidson leaned over clutching his knees, creating the tightest ball he could. Although if they hit anything at this air speed no position was going to save them. His eyes slid over to Bunny. He watched a timid hand reach out. This time he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly.

  Perhaps it was best they couldn’t really see what was happening as the jet lurched to the right, tilting at nearly forty-five degrees, then buffeted back to center.

  He went to murmur a prayer as he had been trained for so many years to do. The Knot had taught him, when in trouble, reach out to God. Yet where had such righteousness gotten him? A vow he’d taken as a child had cost him so much as a man.

  The warm hand in his though, thawing some of the ache from his scars, felt real and tangible.

  Could God be so forgiving?

  Could he be forgiven?

  Davidson felt his good lip tug up into a grin. He guessed the next few minutes would give him a pretty good ballpark answer.

  Rebecca desperately did not want to keep looking out the window. She really should put her forehead to her knees and ignore the groan and churn outside the plane. Yet she couldn’t. Each piece of debris that flew by the window or clanged off the wing or whipped past held her fascination.

  It was impossible to tell how high, or worse how low they were to the ground. The winds and clouds made it almost seem like they were deep under the North Sea again. Rebecca clutched her knees even tighter. Actually, it was more like their flight over Romania last year after the RPG attack. Or maybe it was a combination of the two.

  Which wasn’t at all comforting.

  Then suddenly out of the dark, a light blinked. A red light. It must be the control tower. The only problem? Actually, only problems?

  They’d completely overshot the runway and they were flying low. Like their wheels were barely clearing the airport’s fence low.

  How Rebecca wished she could close her eyes and let fate take its course, but she felt compelled to watch every moment of their doomed landing.

  Lopez banked hard right, tilting the plane nearly vertical to come back around toward the emergency-lit runway. But that lost them even more altitude if that’s what a few feet above the ground could be called. There was no way, just no way they were going to come into this landing parallel.

  Then the storm picked them up. A rush of air under the wings had them gliding for several yards. Rebecca felt her stomach lurch. Then the same storm slammed them down long before Lopez could steady them out.

  The wing hit first, leaving a line of sparks along the tarmac.

  “Everyone to the left!” Brandt shouted, unhooking his belt.

  Everyone followed suit as the plane threatened to tip onto its back as they flung themselves to the opposite windows. Rebecca landed hard against Brandt, who swept her up into his arms, grasping the seat in front of them, pulling it down as cover. Harvish landed in a heap next to them.

  The sudden shift of weight brought the plane down onto its wheels. The jet swerved wildly on the sleet-slicked runway. Forget runway, they skidded sideways off into the greenway that separated the tarmacs. Bouncing and bounding over grass mounds, they finally slowed until they hit another runway and skidded around nearly in a circle.

  The brakes screeched as Lopez laid them on hard, but a hangar was coming up fast.

  “Stay to the left!” Lopez yelled, not even bothering to use the intercom.

  Rebecca didn’t understand why until Lopez made another sharp right, lifting them up onto one wheel, using the right wing as a pivot. The grinding of metal filled the jet. Then fire erupted at the tip of the wing. Still Lopez laid into the right until the friction finally stopped their forward momentum.

  The nose of the jet gently bumped the hangar.

  “Evacuate!” Brandt barked, even though everyone was already all over it as the wing caught fire, sending flames high in the air.

  Talli had the forward door open and shoved out the short metal staircase before they even arrived. Lopez nodded to each as they passed.

  “Just remember, folks, I’m available for charity events and private parties.”

  Rebecca gave him a punch in the shoulder as a tip.

  Sleet and hail continued, but at the least though they were on the ground. That had to count for something, Brant thought. And Lopez, perhaps his adrenaline addiction satiated by the rough landing, was actually driving at a reasonable speed. Not that the corporal necessarily had a choice. In this kind of weather the
streets were nearly gridlocked.

  What should have been a quick twenty-minute drive out of the capital of Slovenia to the foothills at the base of the alpine peaks had turned into over an hour long, full of blaring horns and stalled cars.

  The SUV, an Italian Lancia Voyager, was pretty damned comfortable though. Fine leather seats kind of took the sting out of the assortment of cuts and scrapes they’d endured to get this far.

  “I’m telling you,” Lopez said as the rain turned to slushy snow the higher they climbed out of the valley. The windshield wipers could barely keep up. “This SUV isn’t going to get us far up that mountain.”

  Brandt frowned. That was like the third time the corporal had mentioned the fact.

  “Please, you just flew us through a cyclone storm,” Brandt answered, but Lopez wouldn’t let it go.

  Before Lopez could argue, however, Rebecca leaned between the seats, pushing her laptop ahead of her. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but they are reporting near blizzard conditions near the peaks, and just a mile ahead, the alpine roads are chains only. These snow tires aren’t going to cut it.”

  This day looked on the same course as yesterday. You’d think with Rinderpest in the wind, Nature would be slightly more helpful securing the bacterial plague. Instead, she was being a complete bitch.

  “Fine,” Brandt grunted. “What do you suggest, Corporal?”

  “I am so glad you asked,” Lopez beamed.

  The corporal made a fast left, sped down an alley, and then turned right into a car lot. Brandt glared at Lopez. Clearly the man knew exactly where he was going. Exactly how long had he been angling to get permission to come here?

  Then Brandt saw the reason. The vehicle Lopez coveted sat at the far edge of the lot. It was like an enclosed snowmobile only on steroids. In addition, the vehicle had a strange sleek German engineering look to it. Or the Hummer of snowmobiles.