“Try and stop me now,” he uttered under his breath.
Dimov looked down at his watch and counted backward how long it would take to prep the sub for launch. It would be tight, but he could do it. With a burning resolve in his heart to see things to the end, Dimov scooped up a machine pistol from his desk and darted out of his room.
43
Aside from a couple of trees trying to take root in the floor of the warehouse, the old structure was empty.
Sam moved warily across the open ground, wondering what was so important about this tiny ghost town. Off to her right, Jackson lowered his AK and shook his head. He looked over at Sam and said, “This place is as deserted as the site in Africa.”
“I just hope we’re not being screwed over,” she replied.
Jackson raised a hand. “I’m going to see how Ryan is doing.”
Sam nodded and took another step. A surprised cry cut through the air as Sam vanished through a hole in the floor.
“Sam!” hollered Jackson running to where he last saw her. He stopped and looked down. Sam had vanished down an air shaft.
The world flashed before Sam’s eyes as she fell down the shaft, bumping off its sides as she descended deeper. All of a sudden, her boots hit a grill and smashed it out of the way. The next thing she knew, she landed on a bed and bounced up off its mattress. Sam fell in a heap on the floor. A sharp pain shot through her right ankle. She grabbed hold of her AKS-74 and aimed it around the dimly lit room. “Hello, is anyone in here?”
A young woman with short, black hair and wearing sweats hurriedly crawled out of another bed and flipped on a light. “Who the hell are you?” asked the woman with a Slavic accent.
“I’m Samantha Chen, and you are?”
“Nova Dinu. Are you one of Krasimir’s people?”
Sam recognized Nova’s name from the briefing files. “Yes, I am,” she replied. “Where’s your friend?”
“He’s gone below to get the submarine ready for our departure from here.”
“Sam, are you all right?” yelled Jackson from above.
“Yes and no,” she replied, climbing up onto a chair. “I’m alive, but I’ve sprained my left ankle.”
“Where are you?”
“I think I’ve landed inside some kind of underground base. Pass on to Ryan that I’ve found Nova Dinu, and that this place has a submarine and they’re planning to leave.”
“Did you say they have a sub?”
“Yes. Now hurry up and find a way down here. I doubt I can take this place all by myself, at least not with a bad ankle.”
Nova creased her brow. “What do you mean, you can’t take this place? Wait a minute, I don’t recognize you. You’re not with us.”
“That depends on who you mean by us,” replied Sam.
“You’re from the outside. You’re here to stop us from bringing about world peace.”
Sam shook her head. “Miss, just take a seat. My friends will be along in a minute to help you and your father.”
Nova reached under her pillow and drew a razor-sharp, curved blade from its sheath.
Sam struggled to her feet. “Trust me. You don’t want to do that.”
“Screw you!” snarled Nova, jumping at Sam with the knife.
It was a foolish move. Sam turned on her good heel, brought up her AK, and slammed it into Nova’s jaw, knocking her out cold. She watched Nova’s unconscious body crumple to the floor. “Idiot,” said Sam, picking up the knife and tossing it across the room.
“I’ve passed on your message!” hollered Jackson. “How do I get down there?”
“I don’t know! Look for an elevator or something. Just hurry.”
Jackson tried to imagine a base hidden under his feet. If there was an elevator, it wouldn’t be located in the vast emptiness of the warehouse. He spotted an office at the far end of the building and jogged over to it. As he got closer, he could see a sliver of light coming from underneath the closed door. Jackson opened the door slightly and peered inside. The light seemed to be coming from behind a rusted filing cabinet. He tried pushing the cabinet out of the way, but found it secured to the floor. Jackson gritted his teeth and pulled on the first file drawer handle. With a screech of rusty metal, the cabinet moved aside, exposing an elevator.
“Ryan, I’ve found a way down,” he reported.
“Stay there, we’re on our way,” replied his friend.
Jackson heard the order, but couldn’t get the image of Sam trapped below out of his mind. He pressed the elevator button and readied himself.
“Let’s go,” said Mitchell moving at a run.
Dawn, faster on her feet, ran ahead of him. Just as she turned a corner, the world exploded all around them. A twin-mounted GPMG hidden in an old oil drum swung their way and opened fire. Bullets tore through the old buildings, sending shards of wood and plaster flying through the air. Dawn threw herself backward, colliding with Mitchell. They staggered back behind the side of the building for cover.
“They’ve got a sentry gun,” said Dawn, trying to catch her breath.
“Where is it?”
“Between the warehouse and us.”
“Damn it!” Mitchell keyed his radio, “Gordon, I need you to shift your position. Dawn and I are pinned by a sentry gun. I need you to try and take it out.”
“I’m on my way,” reported Cardinal.
“Now what do we do?” asked Dawn.
“We wait for Cardinal to disable the gun,” replied Mitchell.
“If that doesn’t work, we’re going to have to find another way to that warehouse. Sam’s all alone, and we need to help her.”
Cardinal scooped up his sniper rifle and sprinted to the other side of the roof. He dropped down and took up a new position. With his rifle’s butt tight into his shoulder, he looked through his weapon’s telescopic sight, trying to find the machine gun.
“Hello, my lovely,” murmured Cardinal to himself, as he laid his scope’s reticle pattern on the automated weapon system. He moved it along until he spotted a long box at the back of the weapon. Cardinal grinned. He’d found the computerized brains of the gun. He held his breath and gently pulled back on the trigger. With a loud snap, the 7.62mm bullet flew straight at the box, shattering it and disabling the weapon.
Cardinal spoke into his mic. “Got it.”
“Thanks,” replied Mitchell.
“Wait, don’t move!” warned Cardinal. Three shots rang out. “Got two more. You should be good to move now.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Don’t thank me. Get your ass moving, and get my Sam out of there.”
Mitchell didn’t have to say a word; Dawn heard the last shot, and was already sprinting around the corner. He cursed her impetuousness but ran after her. They covered the ground to the warehouse in seconds. In the gloom, Mitchell saw Dawn leap over a hole in the floor and carry on to the office where Jackson was supposed to be waiting.
“Hurry!” yelled Dawn.
Mitchell picked up his pace. In the office, he came to a sliding halt.
“He’s gone,” said Dawn.
“I knew he’d never wait.” Mitchell wiped the sweat from his brow. “What are you waiting for? Let’s follow him down.”
44
Dimov strode out onto the dockyard. Four security personnel guarded Sandesh and Max Dinu, who both stood there with perplexed looks on their faces.
“Krasimir, I demand to know what’s going on.” asked Sandesh.
“Sir, the base has been compromised,” reported Dimov. “We have to leave right away.”
“My daughter?” asked Max.
“She’ll be along shortly,” lied Dimov. “Now gentlemen, please get into the sub, and we’ll begin our pre-deployment checks.”
Sandesh and Max climbed aboard and made their way inside via the conning tower. A technician with a blond beard, in dark blue coveralls, waited until the path was clear and made his way onto the dock.
“Samson, are the cases of Achlys secur
e in the sub?” asked Dimov.
“Every last case of it,” reported Samson. “But it’s really tight inside. I doubt we’ll get more than two or three more people in her.”
“You let me worry about that. Get her ready to dive.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Dimov walked to a box on the wall and opened it. Inside was a keypad on a control panel. He entered five numbers and waited. A couple of seconds later, one of three lights on the panel turned red. Dimov typed in another set of numbers and looked over at the light. It remained dark. He reentered the code and silently willed the light to go on. As before, the light didn’t activate. Dimov cursed and tried his last five-number code. Again, nothing happened. He slammed the box shut, and ran to the elevator. One of his many safety features had just failed. Now, he would have to personally deal with Nova.
The doors slid open. Red light filled the corridor. Mitchell and Dawn brought up their weapons and carefully entered the hallway. They moved down the corridor until they came to a large glass window.
“Jesus,” uttered Mitchell, when he saw three men in white lab coats lying on the floor. Their faces were contorted in agony.
“They’re all dead,” said Jackson.
Mitchell turned his head. His friend was walking toward them, shaking his head. “Right after I got here, all of the rooms automatically sealed airtight, and gas was pumped into the room,” explained Jackson. “None of them got out alive.”
“They’re leaving no trace behind them,” said Mitchell.
“What’s below us?” asked Dawn.
“There’s a sign on the wall down the corridor,” said Jackson. “The next floor is living quarters, the one after that is maintenance, and lastly is their sub pen.”
“If we want to stop them our next stop will have to be the sub,” said Mitchell.
“What about Sam?” asked Jackson. “I’m sure she’s on the next floor.”
“Okay, you get Sam, while Dawn and I try to prevent them from leaving.”
A powerful jolt shook the complex.
“What the hell?” said Mitchell.
“Look,” said Dawn, pointing at the elevator. “It’s offline.”
“Stairs it is,” said Mitchell.
Jackson kicked open the nearest door that led to a flight of stairs heading below. “Let’s move it.”
Dimov left his key in the control box for the elevator system, locking it from being used, and walked out onto the second floor. Confused technicians and a couple of guards stood around, clearly awaiting instruction. If the wiring hadn’t failed, they’d all be dead by cyanide gas by now.
“Sir, what are we supposed to do?” asked a man with a Spanish accent.
“Hang tight,” he replied. “I’ve got men securing the base. Once it’s safe, we’ll evacuate the base.”
The man nodded and stepped aside. Dimov yanked his pistol from its holster. He pointed at the two guards and waved for them to follow him. The coming blast would probably kill her, but he wanted to know for sure she was gone. He stopped outside of Nova’s door, brought up his weapon, and opened fire. Dimov shot bullets everywhere until his magazine was empty.
He looked at one of the guards. “Open the door.”
The man nodded and booted the door wide open.
Dimov switched his empty for a full magazine, and stepped into the room. Nova lay on the floor, facedown. His eyes widened when he spotted an Asian woman he didn’t recognize sprawled out on the floor as well.
The Asian woman moaned, and tried to roll over.
Dimov brought the butt of his weapon down on the woman’s head, knocking her out cold. “Pick her up and take her with us.”
“Yes, sir,” replied a guard, throwing Sam over his shoulder.
“Sam!” hollered Jackson, bursting out onto the second floor. He looked both ways and ran toward a group of perplexed-looking people. They saw him coming and scattered. He carried on right past them and skidded to a halt. Less than twenty paces away stood Dimov with two men, one of whom had Sam. Jackson raised his AK and yelled, “Dimov, order your men to drop their weapons and give me Sam.”
The next actions took mere seconds, but for all involved, time slowed to a crawl. Dimov fired off a wild shot at Jackson and dove for the floor. Rolling over on his shoulder, he came up in a kneeling position.
Jackson heard the shot and pulled back on his AK’s trigger.
Dimov felt a bullet cut a deep groove in his outstretched arm. He gritted his teeth and took aim at Jackson’s midsection. A fraction of a second later, he pulled the trigger. The round struck Jackson square in the stomach, doubling him over. Dimov stood. He wanted to walk over and put a bullet in Jackson’s head to make sure he was dead, but every second was precious. He led his people back to the elevator, turned the key reactivating the system, and pressed the button for the sub pen. Dimov glanced at his blood-stained watch and saw they had less than ten minutes to make their getaway. It was going to be close.
45
Mitchell and Dawn stopped at the bottom of the stairs, gasping for air. They waited a second to catch their breath before sliding open the door wide enough to peek outside.
“See anyone?” asked Dawn.
“No. All I can see is the stern of the sub.”
Dawn pushed the door open and walked out onto the jetty. Speechless, Mitchell scrambled after her.
“Hey, who are you?” cried out a guard.
Dawn coolly shot the man down and turned her weapon on the next guard, dropping him before he could react. Mitchell thought she was going to take the dockyard by herself, when the elevator door just behind her slid open and Dimov walked out, using the guard holding Sam’s body for cover. Dimov saw the look of hesitation on Dawn’s face and opened up. She cried out in pain as two bullets struck her in the back. Dawn crumpled to the concrete floor, moaning in pain.
Mitchell’s blood was up. He screamed at the top of his lungs and fired off a burst, trying to hit the man carrying Sam in the legs. His shots were wasted and went wide of his target.
Dimov calmly walked along, firing short bursts in Mitchell’s direction. Most of the bullets flew over his head, hitting the rock wall behind him.
Two more guards ran to join the firefight. They dove behind a forklift and thrust their weapons over the top of the vehicle’s engine, spraying rounds in Mitchell’s direction.
“Damn,” Mitchell muttered to himself, as he retreated back to the safety of a row of storage boxes. Dozens of bullets cut through the air above his head as he ducked for cover. With Dawn wounded and pinned out in the open, there was little Mitchell could do by himself to rescue Sam.
He reached for his mic. “Nate? Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Mitchell repeated his call.
A pained voice answered him. “Ryan, I’ve been hit. I’m trying to get to the surface.”
Fear gripped Mitchell’s heart. Everything was going wrong, and from where he was, there was nothing he could do about it.
Dimov leaped over onto the hull of the submarine, and raced up the conning tower. He took Sam from the guard and waved at him to join his comrades. Next, he gently lowered her inside the sub. Dimov tapped the side of the conning tower to get the attention of the technician at the vessel’s controls. “Are we ready to depart?”
“Yes, sir. But what about the others?”
Dimov shook his head and climbed inside, cranking shut the outer and inner doors, as he made his way down into the sub. “The others aren’t coming with us. Flood the ballast tanks and take us out into the Caspian Sea.”
“Aye, sir,” replied the technician, taking hold of the sub’s controls.
The sound of air being replaced with water in the sub’s ballast tanks heralded the vessel’s departure. Mitchell poked his head up and saw the all of the guards drop their weapons and run to the submarine. They jumped onto the hull, frantically beating on the outer casing, begging their friends to take them with them.
“Time to go,”
said Mitchell, leaping over the boxes and running to Dawn’s side. He dropped to his knees and looked at her wounds. The bullets had struck her back, but had failed to penetrate her body armor.
Dawn rolled over, took in a deep breath, and coughed loudly. “My back feels like a mule kicked me.”
“You’ve probably bruised or cracked a few ribs, but you’ll live,” said Mitchell, helping her to her feet. He took her left arm over his shoulders and wrapped his right arm around her waist. Mitchell turned to run for the stairs, when he remembered the elevators were working again. He pressed the button for the second floor, praying that Jackson was still alive. As the doors closed, the last Mitchell saw of the sub were two men desperately pulling at the sealed outer hatch.
The elevator began to rise. Mitchell glanced over at Dawn’s face. She grimaced with each breath she took. He smiled at her. “Come on girl, you can make it.”
“Yeah, but I’d pay ten grand for a shot of morphine right now.”
The instant the doors opened, a black-haired woman Mitchell had never seen before carried Jackson inside the cramped elevator.
“Press the button for the top floor,” ordered the woman.
Mitchell pressed the button. “Who are you?”
“Nova Dinu. There’s no time to explain, just do as I say.”
“Do it,” moaned Jackson.
Mitchell shook his head. “What the hell’s going on?”
Eternal Night Page 22