by Chris Ryan
'OK,' Matt shouted. 'Move out. Move out.'
Matt could feel his heart pounding like a drill against his chest as he pulled himself clear of the tunnel, and emerged blinking into the compound. The firebombs had lit the place up like a shopping mall on Christmas Eve. The light of the flame was brilliant, dazzling, and in that moment Matt could feel the intense heat singeing his skin. He paused for a split second, adjusting his eyes to the glare, then threw himself on to the ground, holding his AN-49 in front of him.
This is the moment of maximum danger. They know they're under attack, and whoever is left alive will be looking for us right now.
He could sense the other five following behind him. With one glance, he checked they were all in position, then moved himself into a crouching position and started to edge forwards. His gun was cocked, and his finger tensed on the trigger. In front of him, the main factory building was engulfed in flames: first the main walls started to shake as the fire progressively weakened it, then the roof started to quiver, as the walls stopped supporting its weight. Within less than a minute of the fireball igniting, it was clear the building would not survive the inferno.
'Is that one done?' hissed Matt, looking towards Ivan.
'Finished,' snapped Ivan. 'It'll collapse in the next half-hour or so.'
Matt looked forwards. The admin building was fifty yards away, set behind the factory. The flames were licking up into the sky, but so far had not touched it. He glanced towards the lookout towers. They looked abandoned. The sentries had either been knocked out by the force of the explosion, or retreated inside.
'Send two men to check the towers,' said Matt, looking towards Malenkov. 'The last thing we need is sniper fire from above.'
Malenkov barked at Josef and Andrei. The two men fanned out, their guns held in front of them, firing rounds of bullets into each sentry tower. If anyone was left there, they should be dead by now.
Matt watched Josef edge forward, his gun high above his head. He loosened off a couple more rounds of fire, then slung his gun over his back. Standing next to the sentry tower, he gripped the wooden slats that led up towards the turret, climbing slowly.
The explosion rocked through the air, catching Matt off balance. Instinctively, he threw himself back down on the ground. When he looked up again, the watch-tower had been reduced to smouldering embers, blown completely apart by the bomb that Josef must have triggered. Of Josef, there was no trace.
He was dead. Probably hanging in a thousand pieces on the trees in the forest, realised Matt. Poor bastard.
'Christ, what the fuck was that?' he hissed, looking towards Ivan.
Ivan was crouching next to him on the ground. He looked up, sniffing the air. 'I can't smell anything,' he said. 'So they must have used Semtex. Some kind of soft trigger on the watchtower. A booby trap.'
Andrei was standing next to them now, his face drawn, sweat running down his cheek and his hands shaking. Malenkov hardly appeared to have registered what had happened. He was shouting furiously, dragging Andrei down to the ground. This is going to be tougher than we thought, Matt realised. We should stop worrying about whether we kill the guards or not – this is kill or be killed.
They were waiting, they were prepared – not for us, maybe, but for something.
Only a few moments are left to us, Matt judged. We still have the advantage of surprise. If anyone is left inside there, they are disorientated, confused and frightened. That's the time to strike them.
Matt stood upright, using his arm to motion the rest of the squad forward. They were already one man down, and from now on the plan would have to be changed by the second. This isn't just taking out a factory. This is a battlefield.
He skirted to the left, avoiding the sparks spitting out of the burning factory, his gun held in front of him. A silence had descended over the compound. He looked towards the building and, from the corner of his eye, sensed he saw something moving in one of the windows.
'Take cover,' he barked.
A shot rang out. Matt could see a clump of earth kick up from the ground as the bullet hit the baked mud, ricocheting back up into the sky. He hurled himself on to the ground, rolling behind one of the walls running close to the compound, and let off a volley of fire. The bullets streamed through the night sky, but Matt could tell the guard was just shooting into thin air. The admin building was about eighty feet long and twenty wide, and was built from concrete breeze blocks, with six windows and only one door.
'Covering fire,' he shouted to Malenkov. 'We need to get up close.'
The volley of fire started up immediately, aimed straight at the centre of the admin building. It was enough to deter whoever was trying to shoot from the windows. Shielding his ears from the deafening roar of the gunfire all around him, Matt ran forwards, covering the twenty yards to the main building at a fast clip, then dropped to the ground next to the building. His breath was short and rapid. Ivan was hard behind him, followed by Malenkov, then Andrei and Nikita. Finally, Orlena ran into position behind them. Matt glanced into her eyes, and part of him was pleased to see the fear there. Sweat was running down the side of her face. But her limbs were solid. There was no sign of nervous shaking, or muscular collapse, the two most common signs of people who were about to crack under the stress of combat. She was frightened, but she was holding herself together.
She's tougher than she looks – and she looks pretty tough.
'Clear the building, clear the building,' shouted Matt.
A yard above where he was crouching was one of the windows. The glass had already shattered, fragments lying splintered on the earth around them. Matt pulled himself upwards, threw the barrel of the AN-49 across the ledge of the broken window and sprayed the interior of the room with bullets. His arms moved methodically from right to left, while his head remained tucked just below the window ledge. They had no plan of the inside of the building, and from now on, they were going in blind, with little idea of what resistance they might expect.
'Can we blow it from here?' asked Matt, looking towards Ivan. 'Save ourselves getting shot to pieces.'
Ivan shook his head. 'Can't get the bombs around it,' he answered. 'They'll pick us off from the windows if we try.'
'OK,' said Matt grimly. 'We take the buggers room by room. With luck there's only six guys left, but it could be eight or nine.'
Regiment rules, he reminded himself. Maximum speed, maximum aggression. You'll have time in heaven to work out a detailed plan.
The room they were now entering had taken a hundred bullets in two minutes. Even a cockroach would have had trouble surviving in there, Matt decided. He pulled himself upwards, looking above the window ledge. The concrete surface of the wall was pitted with holes from the gunfire, and the empty metal cases were filling the floor like the leaves in the park in autumn. One desk in the corner of the room had been shot to pieces, its wooden legs collapsing.
But no corpses.
Matt vaulted through the window, landing roughly on the concrete. He paused, listening hard for the sound of anyone approaching down the corridor. Fifty yards away, he could hear the roar of the burning factory: there was a crashing that sounded like a wall coming down. But here inside the admin building, it was still quiet. Matt motioned to the others to follow him, and within a minute they had all landed inside the room.
'We'll take the corridors,' said Matt. 'Ivan and I will go right.' He looked towards Malenkov. 'You go left with Andrei. Nikita and Orlena can stay here.'
'We should go back for the wounded man,' said Malenkov.
'Forget him,' snapped Matt. 'He was blown to pieces. There's nothing we can do for him now.' He jammed his fist against the light switch next to the door, but nothing happened. Someone's switched the power off, or the bulbs have all been shot out, it was impossible to tell. He flicked on a pocket torch, and flashed it down the corridor. The walls were made of drab, stained concrete and completely bare, stretching twenty yards to the back of the block, with two more doors leading
off it. Matt began to edge quietly forward, his AN-49 gripped tightly in his fists. The first door was ajar an inch. He walked quietly up to it, kicked it wide open, and started to spray the room with bullets. Behind him, Ivan was crouching on his knees, his gun held to his shoulder, letting off another murderous round of fire.
We shoot first and ask questions later. Correct that. We shoot and get the hell out of here. Sod the questions.
Behind him, an explosion rattled through the corridor, the force of the blast throwing Matt off balance. He could feel a sharp pain in his left shoulder where it had struck the ground. The AN-49 had been thrown from his grip. He lifted himself up, aware of the pain in his muscles as he did so, and wiped a thick film of dust from his eyes. 'What the fuck?' he shouted.
Malenkov was already running back down the corridor towards him. His clothes were torn, and there were cuts right across his face and torso. Behind him, Orlena and Nikita.
'Andrei's dead,' said Malenkov, his voice sombre. 'He went over some kind of tripwire, and set off a bomb. Killed him instantly.' He was panting and out of breath, and blood was trickling down the side of the skin. 'The rest of us are lucky to be alive.'
'This place is a bloody death trap,' said Ivan, his voice tensing.
'You think there are more of them out there?' said Matt, looking towards Malenkov.
'How the hell do I know?' answered Malenkov. 'At least six including the one who shot at us earlier. And the place could be stuffed with traps and bombs.'
'Snipers, tripwires,' said Ivan looking towards Matt. 'Room-to-room combat. It's a Russian speciality. Remember Stalingrad?'
Matt paused. 'You think we can blow the place now?'
Ivan nodded. "We've got the kit back at the tunnel. Hold this room, then destroy the rest of the building with firebombs.'
'OK,' said Matt quickly. 'Let's do it. Fight our way through this place, and the whole fucking lot of us are going to be buried here.'
From the back of the room, Matt could see Orlena stepping forwards. Dust was covering her hair, turning it from black to a whitish grey. And the force of the blast had nicked her left arm, cutting open a small wound. 'No,' she said firmly. 'First we search the place, then we blast it.'
Matt clenched his fists together. In the regiment, he'd taught himself lots of techniques for controlling his anger. As the Ruperts flung ridiculous commands at him, he knew all about taking deep breaths, counting to ten, and biting his tongue as he tried to get on with shooting the enemy rather than his own commanders.
But I've never been told to risk my life by a woman before.
'Search it be damned,' he said, his voice rising. 'We're two men down already, and the whole place is booby-trapped. We're facing a hidden enemy, and we haven't even got a map of the building. It's fucking suicide.'
He watched Orlena closely, but not a single muscle on her face twitched. 'I said we search it,' she repeated coldly.
Matt took a step closer, leaning angrily into her face. 'The job was to destroy the compound,' he shouted. 'So we'll destroy the place, and get the hell out of here.'
Orlena tossed a lock of dusty hair away from her face, and glanced back up at Matt. 'As I might have said once already, I pay the bills, so I give the orders. We search the place, then destroy it.'
'What have they got here?' asked Ivan. 'What are we looking for that's so important?'
Orlena kept her eyes trained on Matt. 'Like I told you, it manufactures counterfeit pharmaceuticals. And I need to make sure all the formulas have been destroyed.'
'So how come it's rigged up like the Pentagon?' growled Ivan. He looked towards Malenkov. 'What's in here, Sergei? What are they hiding?'
The Ukrainian shrugged. 'I'm getting paid to fight, not to ask questions,' he replied, his tone guarded. 'So as long I'm on my feet, and I've got a gun in my hand, I'll fight.'
Orlena looked towards Matt, then Ivan. 'If you're running away, so be it. I can't stop you. But I'll tell the Firm you got scared and flunked out of the job. And I'll let them take the appropriate action.'
Matt tossed a gun into Orlena's hand. 'Nobody's damn well scared. But we're two bloody men down already,' he barked, 'so you've just been drafted as the reinforcements.'
TWELVE
Matt could feel his fingers tightening on the trigger of his gun. His skin was warm and sticky, and the metal of the weapon was already wet. He moved carefully forwards, making sure he had checked each inch of ground before taking every step.
There's no way of telling where the next trap is.
Where he was standing, one passage led right, the other left. It was already twenty-five minutes past midnight, he realised. They were about halfway through their safe hour, and the job not half done. The odds are against us and so is the clock.
'Here's the plan,' whispered Matt, looking back towards Ivan and Malenkov. 'Ivan and I will take the left side; Sergei, you cover the right. We clear this place room by room and we shoot on sight.' He paused, looking back at Orlena. 'You follow me, but keep ten paces behind us.'
'Just try not to damage anything,' she said sharply.
Matt grimaced. 'We'll worry about that if we're still alive. We're soldiers, not removal men.'
He looked ahead. The admin block split into two passages, both of them about ten yards long. His passage led to what looked like a storeroom, the other to a series of small offices and laboratories. Malenkov and Nikita started crawling rightwards, while he and Ivan went left. Orlena was bringing up the rear. It was pitch black, and Matt was using a torch to inch his way forward. The smell of the explosion was still thick and sulphurous in the air, and the blood of the last guard to die was seeping out across the floor in front of him.
'What are we looking for?' hissed Matt, looking back towards Orlena.
'Computers,' she said. 'You see one, make sure you don't shoot it up.'
A noise. Matt couldn't be certain where it was coming from, but he sensed the unmistakable sound of a man breathing. Ten yards away, maybe fifteen, inside one of the two small rooms that led off the corridor. The acoustics along the narrow passageway made every faint whispering sound reflect back on itself. In the background, the flames still rising from the factory were sending waves of hot air across the building.
Still, no doubts. There is a man out there somewhere.
If we had known we were going to get into this kind of battle we would have brought stun grenades, thought Matt.
Matt signalled to Ivan. To flush him out of the room where he was hiding, they were going to have to work as a pair. Matt crouched down low, kneeling close to the concrete surface, while Ivan stood behind him, his gun cocked and ready. A shot splintered through the night air. Matt could feel some dust spitting out from the concrete wall, then hitting the floor. He stopped. Behind him, Ivan had loosed off a volley of fire in the direction of the first door. Matt stopped at the second, crouching on the ground. Ivan was increasing his rate of fire, peppering the first door with bullets. Fuck the computers, Matt thought.
He unhooked his gun, checked the cartridge, then started firing into the second room. The computers might get damaged, but Orlena could worry about that: it wasn't part of the original mission, so she couldn't complain now. Even though the kickback from the gun was light, it was still bruising the shoulder that was already hurting from the last fall. But the weapon was solid and easy to handle. After two magazines were spent, the door fell with a crash to the ground.
It didn't matter now which room the man was in. Either way, he should be dead.
'Move in,' shouted Matt. 'Move in.'
He pulled himself up, rushing at the room ahead of him. It measured five foot by ten, its walls made from bare concrete blocks. His gun held high, he squeezed his finger down tight on the trigger of the AN-49 ready to fire: he could feel his nerve endings jamming against the hot steel of the gun. As soon as he entered the room, he threw his back against the wall, taking a moment to survey the scene. One man was standing ten feet ahead of him. In an instant,
Matt raised the gun to his eyes, fired once, then twice. The first bullet blew apart his skull, the second tore into his chest.