After only a few seconds, the firing from behind them had stopped, and the Sentinel Commander was standing off to their right scanning the road leading to the Tohil village. "Hurry, Major. More are on their way."
Joe turned his head and looked back at the vehicles that had been firing at them. They had been blown to pieces, and there was almost no trace of them. Looking back to his front, Joe noticed that Doctor Prure was standing in the open hanger bay, while Joe could hear the ships thrusters warming up.
It was time to leave Paraguay behind, but first, they had one stop to make.
45
By the time the first bullet had been fired in Paraguay, Ranix and Yuli were already on their way to the United Nations building in Manhattan along with the US Ambassador to the UN, Doctor Chris Hayes.
The eight-vehicle convoy was accompanied by four NYPD motorcycle riders, and other than the two Blackhawk helicopters flying over the precession, nothing looked too out of the ordinary to anyone they passed. Of course, the entire Long Island Expressway had been closed to traffic flowing towards Manhattan for the last thirty minutes, something which had not gone unnoticed.
In the first Suburban sat the hulking Josh Reid, the dreadlocked head of the FBI Hostage Rescue Team. Josh hadn't been pleased with the simplicity of the Secret Services plan to just drive straight to the UN building, but considering the weather conditions, he didn't have much choice. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Josh could survey the road ahead and was in constant contact with the rest of his team by radio.
As the convoy raced along the road, waypoints were called out when passed, which would take the vehicles under the East River, and into Manhattan.
"This is HRT One, Pulaski Bridge in 200 yards, then the slowdown for the toll booths." Josh let go of his communications microphone and brought his left hand back to the10mm Heckler and Koch MP5 that was resting in his arms. He listened to the responses from the other seven vehicles in the convoy along with the two choppers flying overhead.
With the rain still pouring down, and grey skies, the visibility in the SUVs was slightly reduced, the windshield wipers were working overtime, trying to keep up with the amount of water hitting the front windshield.
46
"Target sighted." Came over the radio. The team's sniper, Master Sergeant Ivan Kamera was on the 7th floor of the Bayfield Importers building at Borden Avenue and 21st Street. His position gave him a perfect view of the Long Island Expressway, and the eight vehicle convoy was insight, and approaching the Pulaski Bridge quickly.
"Roger that. Wait until we initiate before engaging air support." Nikita ordered over the radio.
Without moving, Kamera acknowledged the call by clicking his transmit button twice. Laying next to the building's air conditioning units and elevator shaft, Kamera was perfectly camouflaged under a tarp that he had painted to match the colour of the roof perfectly. Even his Barrett .50 calibre sniper rifle had been meticulously painted to blend it into the surroundings.
Looking down, he checked that the weapons safety was still engaged, then verified that there was a round chambered and ready to fire. To his right was a second ten round box, ready to be used if he needed more ammunition.
With all checks complete, he closed his eyes for a second and listened to the rain continue to fall on the tarp, as the whipping sound of the helicopters drew nearer. Ivan knew that he stood an excellent chance of downing the helicopters with a few shots to their engines, but knew that once the show started, the building he was in would eventually be surrounded, and there was a very low chance of him getting away clean.
Scanning the kill box that Major Pullinski had picked, he noted that the other teams appeared in place, and ready to act.
47
At the one hundred metre point, everything seemed to be going like clockwork. Ian Sneed was riding in the third Suburban with Ranix, and Yuli; while Ken Benning in the fifth vehicle. While Ian couldn't see much of what was ahead of his vehicle, the last radio check confirmed that all systems were a go and that the toll plaza had been cleared of all personnel, and was ready for the eight vehicles to roll through.
As the convoy approached the toll booths, they were forced to slow to about twenty miles per hour to safely navigate the tight squeeze in between the booths, and just as the giant Suburban Ian was in began to slow, an enormous explosion destroyed the tollbooths in a huge ball of fire, and even through the rain, Ian was sure of what happened as the entire landscape in front of his vehicle turned to flame.
Ian keyed his communications system, "Contact!" And waited for a reply. The airwaves were dead. He looked at the driver who was slamming on the breaks. "Are you getting anything?"
"Negative!" He yelled as the vehicle slammed into the rear of the second vehicle in the convoy.
Ian looked to the back seat. Ranix's eyes were as wide as saucers. The Secret Service Agent sitting next to Ranix already had his MP5K at the low ready, thumb on the safety switch.
Scanning back to his front, he quickly assessed the situation: they were being ambushed. His vehicle was fifteen yards away from a blazing set of toll booths, while the first Suburban appeared to have half crashed into the inferno. Agents and operators had already emerged from the Suburban in front, and behind Ian's vehicle, just as small arms fire started to pepper the second vehicle. The fire was heavy and coming from all directions. They were in a kill box.
48
When the two cratering charges that Senior Warrant Officer Ratner had placed at the tollbooths exploded, they vaporised the booths and set a huge ball of flame streaking into the cloud-filled sky, and debris showering down for a hundred square metres.
The explosion was the pre-designated signal for Kamera to engage the two Blackhawk helicopters, and for Captain Altunin and Senior Sergeant Zakharov to drive two stolen passenger buses onto the Long Island Expressway from Borden Avenue and cut off the Suburban's only line of escape. Even though the operation had only been discussed, and never practised, it worked seamlessly.
Within thirty seconds of the toll booths going up in flames, the two buses were rolling into place just to the east of the Pulaski Bridge, creating the kill box that Major Pullinski needed to accomplish his mission.
As the first Suburban slammed into the flaming toll booths, Warrant Officer Shapovalov and Master Sergeant Herasymov opened fire on the vehicles with a pair of Rocket Propelled Grenade systems from the rooftop of 90 Borden, a three-story building that was situated next to the toll booths, and offered a perfect position to rain fire down on the now congested Suburbans.
Their instructions had been to focus their efforts on the third vehicle in the convoy, but now there were eight cars in between the Pulaski Bridge and the burning toll booth, making it impossible to determine which was their primary target. Without waiting for orders, they opened fire. Once an RPG hit and exploded on a Suburban, the large vehicles were tossed into the air, and the shrapnel sent flying in all directions, killing those inside instantly.
Major Pullinski and Ratner were positioned on 21st Street opposite 90 Borden, and at the other end of the tollbooths. Both men were armed with Sig Sauer 516 7.62mm automatic rifles and opened fire on the convoy by dumping both of their 30 round magazines into the convoy for good measure.
As Nikita did his first magazine change, he quickly checked the caravan, and noted, like his operatives on the rooftop across from his position, that he couldn't tell which vehicle was the third in the convoy after the SUVs had become jumbled up.
49
By the time Special Agent in Charge Ken Benning had gotten his bearings, half of the HRT operators were dead, and he had already lost two of his own men, and the contact had only been initiated less than two minutes ago. Checking his radio, he discovered that it was non-operational. What he didn't know was that the Russians had put a 45-watt cellular jammer and a SESP Group Patrol PX portable multi-band jammer in a sling under the Pulaski Bridge, rendering all communications systems, other than a landline, inoperable
within a one hundred yard radius.
"Let's move!" He screamed at the two HRT men and the other Secret Service man in the Suburban.
Throwing the doors of the vehicle open, the four men piled out onto the rain-soaked road and tried to get their bearings. They were receiving fire from all directions. As Ken tried to get a grasp on the situation, the HRT man next to him was hit by a burst of gunfire that emanated from the direction that the vehicles had come from.
Turning in that direction, Ken noted that two huge grey buses had been driven across the road behind the convoy, trapping them up against the burning tollbooths. Searching for the shooter in the rain, Ken spotted another muzzle flash as a burst of fire slammed into the vehicle he had just exited. Quickly bringing his Sig Sauer pistol up, he fired one round at a shape that was fifteen feet away, and in the shadows of the bridge. The form appeared to drop, as another burst of fire came from a position just to the right of the first shooter.
Ken knelt down on one knee in an attempt to get a more secure firing position just as a burst of fire came raining down near him from above his position. Looking up, he noticed that there were two shooters on top of the Pulaski Bridge. Without thinking, Ken brought his pistol up to bear on the shooters on the bridge and fired off the remainder of his clip as he ran towards the toll booths, looking for the vehicles containing Ranix and Yuli.
50
Two minutes into the attack and Nikita and Ratner were moving away from their position and towards the burning hulks to Suburban's, many of which were also on fire.
The rain was still coming down hard, and visibility was restricted. As Nikita moved forward, he caught a faint glimpse of a shape coming from one of the lead vehicles which had plunged into the toll-booths and been engulfed in flames. What he witnessed was unbelievable. The rear doors of the black Suburban flung open and out jumped a monstrously huge black FBI agent, long dreadlocks flowing from his scalp, and almost the entire left side of his body badly burned.
Both he and Ratner spotted this threat at the same time, and both turned to engage the target at the same time. What they hadn't counted on was this man's speed. When he had jumped out of the back of the vehicle he was not carrying a weapon but did have a pistol strapped to his right hip, and before Nikita or his senior NCO could open fire from their already prepared weapons, the hulk of a man drew his Springfield Armoury .45 calibre pistol from his quick draw holster and put a single bullet through Ratner's left eye, which cut through the eyeball, then the sphenoid bone like a brick through a piece of cheap import glass before punching a significant portion of the medulla out of the back of his skull.
With rounds coming at him, Nikita's eyes opened wide, and he attempted to increase his rate of movement to get his rifle to bear on the hulking American, but he wasn't fast enough. The second shot from the Kimber hit Nikita in the left shoulder, just above his body armour, not causing any real damage, but the third shot did. The .45 calibre round hit Nikita's sternocleidomastoid muscle half way up his neck on his left side. He was lucky the shot didn't tear his head off, but it did tear a huge hole in his neck and spun him around like a top before he fell face down onto the soaking wet pavement.
Choking hard, he tried to breathe slowly. Nikita knew he was dying. He was aware that he was going to bleed out. It was just a matter of time. As he lay on his stomach, he looked over to Ratner who was laying down next to him, and who looked peaceful in his death. With the rain beating down on the back of his neck, he closed his eyes, and thought of Valhalla, only to have his visions of heaven disrupted by a hard kick to his midsection that rolled him onto his back.
Blinking his eyes open, he struggled to focus with the loss of blood and the pouring rain to see the large .45 calibre pistol only inches away from his face.
"Don't fucking move you useless fucktoid!" The deep voice boomed.
Nikita could feel a hand moving along his body, taking away his armaments and tossing them to the side. Perhaps he was going to be left to bleed out, maybe he was going to be executed, something that he would completely understand. Instead, he felt a warmth over his wound, followed by a tightening feeling around his neck. Someone was applying first-aid to him.
Looking back towards the pistol that was in his face, he could tell that the man wielding it was trying to save his life. Looking past the gun, he noticed first the dreadlocks, then the burns covering the man's body, then the face: hard, and battle tested.
As soon as the dressing was applied, Nikita was rolled back onto his stomach, his hands clasped behind his back, and then cuffed.
When the warrior that had subdued him finally rose up and re-engaged Nikita's men, he knew that his mission was going to fail. He was good. He was excellent. It just so happened that he had encountered someone better. And just maybe, someone who was the best.
Moving away from the detained Russian, Josh focused on the shooter that was on top of the Pulanski Bridge, who was still raining fire down on the men below. With the sound of approaching sirens, Josh knew that the siege would be lifted, but he was worried it would be too late. A lot of shooting had taken place, and there was no guarantee that Ranix or Yuli were still alive.
As Josh was moving towards the rear of the convoy, Agents Sneed and Benning were both sitting propped up against one of the Suburbans. Sneed had taken a bullet in the leg, while Benning had taken two hits, once in the arm, and another on the shoulder.
"What do you reckon?" Benning asked, gasping for air.
"One shooter on top of the building next to the toll booths."
"Okay. I'll lay down suppressive fire, and you advance, and try to get close enough for a shot."
"Why am I moving? I'm the one who's been shot in the leg!"
"Because I'm not feeling too good at the moment." Benning replied, coughing up blood onto his rain-soaked shirt.
Sneed dropped the clip out of his pistol and slammed in a fresh one. "You always were an asshole, Benning." He said with a smile.
Keeping his head low, Ian started moving towards the front of the convoy, trying to get within effective range of the shooter on top of the building as Ken Benning rose to his feet, turned and started firing at the assailant. Ken knew that the threat was outside of the effective range of his pistol, but his shots would hopefully distract the man long enough for Ian to get within range and take him out.
Firing with just one hand, he knew his accuracy was going to be affected, but it didn't stop him from shooting quickly, hoping to get lucky.
One of his first shots must have impacted close to the shooter because the man's attention was quickly fixed on Ken. Swivelling his torso quickly, the man brought his weapon to bear on the wounded Secret Service agent and let fly a burst of fire. His first shot missed, but the next three didn't, hitting Ken diagonally across the chest, piercing his body armour, and punching through his heart, liver, and spleen before almost ripping apart Ken's back as the bullets exited his body.
Without looking back at Ken, Ian continued his charge to get within firing distance, before emptying his clip at the shooter on the roof. His first shot caught the man in his body armour, forcing him back due to the power of the bullets impact. The second shot hit the man square in the forehead, punching a fist-sized hole in the back of his head when the bullet passed the brain matter at 370 metres per second.
With his target neutralised, Ian caught his breath, before checking his surroundings. He was standing next to a Suburban that looked relatively unscathed compared to all the other vehicles, putting his hand on the door latch, he opened the driver's door, and out fell a bloodstained body. Ian quickly knelt down and checked for a pulse, which wasn’t there. Standing back up, he looked into the rear of the vehicle and spotted Ranix laying in the rear footwell.
"Any survivors?"
Ranix raised his head and looked at Ian, then pushed himself off the floor and sat up on the rear seat. Looking down, Ian noticed that Yuli had been lying under Ranix. Sitting up, she said something to Ranix that Ian couldn't unders
tand.
"Well, at least you two are alive."
51
By the time the Epsilon had reached the airport in Mariscal Estigarribia, word had reached them about the attempted assassination attempt in New York.
"What the fuck is going on with people today!" Joe asked out loud.
The narrow bridge of the Epsilon was only partially staffed as the spacecraft touched down at the airport. With Rais flying the ship, Master Engineer Sulvan had taken the Ship Masters position, while Joe was sitting on his left at the navigation position. Rhea was sitting just behind him at the Communications station. The only other person on the bridge was Detection Technician Jonas who was monitoring the airspace around the ship.
"Master Engineer Sulvan. I am tracking five combat aircraft within two thousand metres and several civilian aircraft."
"Understood. Continue to track, and keep me advised." Sulvan responded.
The forward viewscreen currently had a dozen images on it being fed from cameras placed around the ship. Joe, scanning the pictures, trying to give Rais a suggestion as to where to land.
"Rais, just set us down in the middle of the runway." He said coolly. Joe pulled the pistol that Martin had given him out of the small of his back, checked a round was chambered and looked over at Sulvan. "Better have the Sentinel Commander and his team secure the ship when we land."
"I concur." The veteran spacefarer hit the Sentinel button on the command chair. "Sentinel Commander, prepare to secure the ship when we land."
The booming voice came back over the ships broadcast speaker immediately. "Understood."
"Landing gear down," Rais announced without any concern if anyone was listening. "Touchdown in five, four, three, two, one."
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