by Ethan Jones
Chapter Sixteen
Front Line
Donbass Region
Eastern Ukraine
Carrie whispered to Honchar. “Take this.” She handed him a magazine for the Sig Sauer pistol.
“Why?”
“For him.” Carrie tipped her head slowly toward the advancing commander. “He’s not coming for more money. He’s coming for us, all of us.”
Honchar shook his large head, but inserted the magazine into the pistol and cocked it. “No, I can convince him—”
“Listen, you fool.” Carrie leaned closer to his ear. “This isn’t a game. He’ll ask us to get out of the Lada. When we do, shoot him in the head.”
“What? No, not going to do that.”
The gunman who had taken the bribe was now about ten steps away. He aligned his rifle with Honchar’s head, then looked back, at his commander. The stocky man pulled out a pistol from a waistband holster and held it up for all of them to see. He cocked the pistol dramatically, then shouted at Honchar, “Get out of the vehicle.”
“Why? We can—”
“He asked you to get out.” The gunman shoved the barrel of his AK rifle inside the Lada.
If Honchar hadn’t moved his head back, the barrel would have caught him in the temple. He gave Carrie an inquiring look. She returned an almost imperceptible nod toward the pistol still in his right hand, which he kept slightly behind his back.
“Get out!” the gunman shouted. “Right now.”
“Okay, okay.” Honchar pushed the door open, very slowly, as he put the pistol behind his back. “We can resolve this … whatever this is…”
The gunman held the rifle pointed at his head. “Hands up. Now. Up.”
Honchar hesitated for a split of a second.
It was enough for the gunman to clue in to Honchar’s strategy.
The gunman stepped closer to Honchar and hit him in the stomach with the butt of his rifle.
Honchar bent over in pain. He groaned and made some sickening noises, as if he was going to throw up.
Carrie seized the moment. She slid out of her seat and took hold of Honchar, as if she was helping him up.
“Hey, what are you doing?” the commander asked.
“Stay back. Stay—”
“Now,” she shouted at the driver.
Carrie pulled the Sig Sauer from the small of Honchar’s back. She jammed it under the gunman’s throat, then slid behind him before he had a chance to react. “Don’t move; don’t even breathe.”
The driver had turned his weapon at the commander. “Drop it!” he shouted as he slid half of his body out the window. “Or you’re dead…”
All the other gunmen pointed their weapons at the driver or at Carrie.
She said, “Last chance. Drop it, or—”
The commander fired a couple of rounds at the gunman that Carrie was holding as hostage. One of the bullets struck the man in the chest; the second pierced his neck. A spray of blood sputtered across Carrie’s face.
She pulled the trigger. Her bullet entered the commander’s forehead. The man was dead before he tumbled to the ground.
The gunman collapsed to his knees while Carrie darted toward the Lada. She pulled Honchar along with her, then grabbed the gunman’s AK, which had fallen next to her feet.
Gunfire erupted from all sides. The Lada’s windshield was shattered, and glass and metal pieces flew over their heads.
The driver crawled slowly on the ground toward Carrie. He was bleeding from a shoulder wound. “I’m alright,” he said and cursed aloud. “Flesh wound. In and out.”
“How’s the asset?”
“Dead.”
Carrie flipped to her stomach and fired from underneath the SUV. A scream and the thud of a body told her she had hit her mark. She crouched near the back of the Lada, ignoring glass fragments raining over her head. She turned the AK and opened up at one of the gunmen stretched on the ground, who was trying to return fire. He stopped moving.
Another gunman was lying on his back a few feet away. He too wasn’t moving, but Carrie was taking no chances. She planted a couple of bullets in his head.
Loud machine gun fire erupted from the checkpoint.
She knelt behind the Lada, which began to be hammered by the volley. “We can’t stay here for long…”
Honchar nodded. “I … I should have listened…”
“Too late for that.”
“But I can fix it.” He nodded toward the Lada.
Carrie shook her head. “It’s a bullet magnet. We’ve got to make it on foot.”
“We’ll never make it.”
“Never say never.”
She took a peek around the corner. Muzzle flashes erupted from one of the small trucks to the right. Then they died out, while sparks began to lift off the top and the side of the cabs. “We’ve got help.”
The trucks’ windows shattered under sniper fire, then an explosion turned one of the trucks into a large orange fireball. Carrie didn’t see it, but the projectile of a rocket-propelled grenade launcher had just slammed into the back of the truck. The Ukrainian government troops had joined the fight.
The gunmen around the trucks began to scatter, turning their attention in the other direction.
Someone on the large army truck swung the floodlight around, toward the building.
A sniper bullet blinded it, and the area sank into darkness.
“Now! We’ve got to go, now,” Carrie shouted.
She sprang to her feet and opened up with a long volley. She looked to her left as the driver stood up. His left arm was hanging almost uselessly, but he was firing a pistol with his other hand. Honchar stood up on the other side of the Lada and bolted forward.
Carrie ran to the nearest dead gunman and took a knee. She fired at a couple of silhouettes she spotted next to the burning truck, lit up by the dancing flames. Then she turned her attention to the army truck and the BMW. A gunman standing near the back of the BMW had just swung a machine gun toward her.
Carrie barely had time to dive into the ditch along the road. Bullets struck almost everything around her. A few whizzed dangerously close to her head. She heard Honchar’s shouts and curses and looked over her shoulder. The rebel commander had dropped to his knees, bleeding from a couple of chest wounds. He still fired a long volley from his rifle, until another bullet caught him in the head. Honchar fell backwards and didn’t move.
Carrie looked for the driver and found him stretched near the other ditch. “You okay?” she shouted at him.
He nodded slowly. “Yes, mostly okay.”
She glanced at the machine gunner. He was lying on his back next to the vehicle. Her eyes studied the rest of the area. No one was taking shots at them, but sporadic gunfire echoed from the distance. The Ukrainian army snipers were still firing at the rebels scattered around the checkpoint.
“Let’s go,” Carrie said. “Slowly and carefully. There are still gunmen alive.”
The driver climbed to his feet and took a few unsteady steps.
Carrie walked toward him covering both sides of the checkpoint. She had taken about ten steps when a silhouette appeared behind the army truck. Her rifle was already aimed in that direction, so she tapped the trigger. A three-round burst cut the silhouette to the ground.
The driver squeezed off a couple of rounds, aimed at the cluster of small trucks.
Carrie turned to that side and fired off a long volley. Her bullets struck two gunmen who had just popped up from behind the nearest truck.
Then everything grew quiet, eerily quiet.
Carrie gestured to the driver to walk around the trucks, while she covered the rest of the area. Her eyes flitted between the army truck and the BMW, but no gunmen were alive. She looked at the driver, who had almost cleared the trucks. Then she noticed a gunman crawling behind the second truck.
It was the one the driver had already cleared.
Carrie pointed her rifle and fired a single round.
The bullet
struck the gunman just as he raised his pistol. His head fell against the side of the truck, then his body flopped lifelessly to the ground.
The driver swung around, but there was no other movement.
Carrie raced toward him. “I think that’s all…”
The driver nodded. “Eh, yes. Thanks.”
Carrie smiled. “Let’s go.”
They hurried their steps and made their way through the coils of concertina wire. Carrie kept looking over her shoulder, expecting gunmen to pop up at any moment and unleash a torrent of bullets against them.
It didn’t happen.
Instead, a couple of dark blue Jeeps rolled from the Ukrainian army’s building and met them about halfway through the no man’s land. The soldiers helped the driver into the second Jeep, while Carrie sat in the backseat of the first one. “Thanks for the sniper fire and for getting us,” she said to the captain, a middle-aged man sitting up straight in the front passenger seat.
“We should have intervened earlier,” he said in a disappointed voice. “The commander…” he shrugged.
“I get it,” Carrie said. “Bosses are the same across the world.”
The captain nodded. “They are.”
She sighed and thought of the asset. He was so close to freedom. She shook her head. At least this is over. I get to go home now.
Fifteen minutes later, when she received a call from Moretti, she realized a new operation was going to thrust her again into the rebel-held lands. And this time, the operation was going to be ten times harder…
Chapter Seventeen
Helsinki Airport
Finland
Justin dialed Karolin’s number while half expecting her not to answer. He wasn’t sure he was ready to open up to her about his medical situation. But he needed to tell her the truth. Of all people, she has the right to know first…
She picked up after the third ring as Justin was getting ready to hang up. “Justin, sweetheart, how are you?” Her voice was warm in the cute German accent that Justin loved.
“Oh, alright, I guess. It’s been a long day, and it’s going to be even a longer night.”
“Are you in Finland?”
“Yes, but not for long.”
“Going somewhere warmer?”
“You can say that, in a sense.” He grinned. The only warmth he was going to receive in Ukraine was from the heat of the battle. “But how are you doing?”
“I’m okay. It’s raining in Vienna, and it’s cold. Nothing like the warm spring we’re supposed to have.”
“Never trust the weatherman, or woman…”
“I know. They’re so pompous: ‘It’s going to be a bright, gorgeous day. Leave your umbrella at home.’ Then, bam. Thunderstorms all day. Thank you, Weather Channel.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you…”
“You didn’t. I’m already cranky.”
“Is Moretti keeping you busy?”
“He is, but nothing really serious. I’m dying to run my own solo operation…”
“The day will come, honey.”
“Not soon enough.” Karolin sighed.
“I hear you. I had to slog through grunt work for the first few months.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“What did you hear?”
“Your first official operation was retrieving intel from an asset in the south of France.”
Justin frowned. That was supposed to be a secret, even within the CIS. Only a handful of people with top-level clearance had access to the operation’s file. “How did you hear that?”
“Oh, Justin, you know I can’t tell you that…” Her voice took on a playful tone.
Justin also sensed a hint of regret, as if Karolin had realized she had revealed something she wasn’t supposed to. He shook his head and tried to calm down. “It … it doesn’t matter. Just … just don’t tell anyone else.”
“No, of course not. And … I only told you because I thought it was a great story. How … how brave you were, and you did everything on your own, without any backup, saving a lost situation…”
“Whoever told you the story is obviously exaggerating.” He tried to downplay his involvement in the Marseille operation. The truth, though, wasn’t far from what Karolin had learned. “Anyway, I need to tell you something.”
“What’s wrong?”
Justin told her about the two episodes where he had lost his balance. He didn’t mention the name of the doctor, but informed his girlfriend about receiving medical attention and painkillers.
Karolin listened without interrupting, but Justin knew a thousand questions were burning in her mind. When he finished, Karolin said, “What are you going to do now?”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What else is there to say? I’m not going to yell at you, or tell you what to do. My dad tried that with me. It didn’t work out at all.” She groaned.
“I know what to do, I just … I need to find the right time to tell Moretti.”
“It’s always the right time to do the right thing.”
“Sounds like something that should go on a t-shirt…”
“Perhaps it should, but you know it’s true. Moretti will understand, and he’ll make the right decision.”
“Is chaining me to a desk the right decision?”
“It could be, for a while. Until you get better, and don’t put your own life in danger…”
Justin waited for Karolin to finish her sentence, but she didn’t. She wasn’t going to say it, but the meaning was clear. Justin could endanger the life of others who worked with him. “I … I have a good handle on things, at least in the short run. I just wanted to get this off my chest. And you needed to know…”
“I appreciate your telling me, Justin, and I love you very much for that…”
“I love you too, babe.”
“So, be careful when you go to… wherever that warm place might be…”
“I surely will. I hope it’ll be sunny in Vienna tomorrow…”
Karolin sighed. “I doubt it, but it will be much better when I get to see you.”
The voice of one of the flight clerks echoed throughout the waiting lounge, and Justin covered the phone, so that Karolin couldn’t hear the voice.
She did. “Noisy airport,” she said, followed by a small laugh.
“Yes, I’d better get going.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Stay safe.”
“You too, honey.”
He drew in a deep breath and thought about what Karolin had said. He didn’t like it, but Karolin was right. He had to let his boss know about his medical condition. The sooner, the better, for everyone. He looked at the flight schedule on his phone. Thirty more minutes until boarding. Enough for the painful call.
He dialed Moretti’s number, his fingers dancing over the keys, before he could change his mind. Justin’s boss answered and said, “Justin, I wasn’t expecting you to call so soon. Did you read the report?”
“No, I haven’t checked my email. When did you send it?”
“Ten minutes ago. It’s the latest update on the ICBM. We don’t have the exact coordinates, but there are a couple of possible locations. Small villages.”
“Okay. I’ll review it right away.”
“One more thing before I forget. We’ve got a reply from the Russians. They’re joining this op.”
Justin frowned. “Is their assistance genuine?”
“It appears that way. We’re still vetting them, but if everything checks out, you’ll have a four-man team waiting for you in Donetsk.”
“Who are they? GRU or SVR?” Justin said, referring to Russia’s military intelligence agency and the foreign intelligence agency respectively.
“Neither of them. The Russians don’t want any official involvement, more than they already have, especially if things take a turn for the worse.”
“So, mercenaries?”
“In a way. But not the run-of-the-mill type. Hand-picked, former Spetsnaz ,
at least three of them. It’s all in the report.”
Justin sighed. Ex-special forces… Oh, this keeps getting better and better…
Moretti said, “Why did you call?”
Justin hesitated for a brief moment. “It’s… eh, it’s about my health…”
“Are you dying?”
“No, you can’t get rid of me that easily…”
“Are you losing your mind?”
“Not that I know of.” Justin smiled.
“Well, what is it?”
“Eh… I’m finding it difficult to—”
Moretti interrupted him. “Hold on, Justin. I’ve got another call from… Can this wait until you get to Ukraine?”
Justin smiled. “Sure can.”
“I’ll call you back.”
“Okay, bye, then.”
Justin heaved a sigh of relief. I tried to tell him…
He felt calmer now that he had made peace with his conscience. So he checked his email and downloaded the report to his phone. He looked at the two villages, the potential location of the missile. One of them, Lugapol military base, was the closer to Zhdanvatka airfield, perhaps the best-defended area in rebel hands. The second village, Pokivka, was a few kilometers to the south, about ten kilometers from the front line. I hope it’s the latter.
Justin closed the report and opened the next one, which informed him of the Russians assisting in this operation. Justin didn’t recognize any of the names, but he wouldn’t, since they were all former operatives of Russian special forces. Who are these people? How good are they? More importantly, what are their motives?
His attention remained on the name of the Russian team leader. She was a woman by the name of Avelina Alexandrova, but everyone called her “Ava.” There was a short description of her past. She had served with the SVR for over two years, before being forced to retire with a dishonorable discharge. Ava had rejected the advances of one of her superiors and had resorted to physical violence when the brute had paid no attention to her words.
Justin smiled. I like this woman already. It’s good when people have priorities straight in their life.
He returned to the previous report and studied it for a few minutes. Then he put the phone away and looked at his watch. He stood up and walked to the gate to board his flight to Ukraine.