The Russian Defector

by Ethan Jones

  “Let’s leave it there.” Justin shook his head.

  Carrie gave Ava a tight embrace. “I … I doubted you at first, but now I know…”

  Ava shrugged again. “I’m used to it. I’m Russian—well, a good one, apparently.” She looked at Justin.

  He waved a dismissive hand and didn’t look back.

  “Let’s go, Ihor,” Carrie said and picked up her rifle.

  They slithered out of the thicket and began their low crawl toward the airfield. The runway was surrounded by open fields that offered very little protection. Justin and Carrie stayed together, while Ihor flanked them about thirty yards away. The Russian team had already disappeared at the end of the field, and the three team members looked like tiny silhouettes against the fiery disk of the sun coming up from behind the thicket’s trees.

  Justin hoped that having the sun against their back and the advantage of surprise would allow both teams to reach favorable positions before they were detected.

  It wasn’t meant to be.

  The Russian team had covered perhaps half the distance to the edge of the runway when a group of four gunmen began running toward them. They were dressed in mismatched clothes, but they all carried automatic weapons pointed at the Russians.

  Justin wanted to warn his teammates, either by shouting or, even better, by mowing down the welcoming party. Either action would betray his position, Carrie’s, and potentially Ihor’s. So he bit his lip, lowered his head, and looked through the thin, scraggly vegetation.

  The Russians had noticed the rebel team.

  One of the Russians got to one knee and fired his machine gun. The weapon bounced wildly in his hands, but the power of the endless rounds was mostly in their number, not in the shooter’s marksmanship. A few of the bullets struck the rebels, and they collapsed on the tarmac.

  The other two Russians sprinted toward the runway. At the end, there was a series of concrete blocks and a small shed. They’d be a great cover, at least for a brief time, hopefully sufficient for Justin and Carrie to board the fighter jet.

  Justin looked at Carrie, who kept advancing. Then he looked up ahead. A white truck was speeding toward the end of the runway. At the control tower, a couple of gunners opened up with machine guns. The diversion is working.

  He slid forward to catch up to Carrie. He felt his left leg cramp up, the calf muscle tensing. The pain was so sharp a moan almost escaped his lips. His world turned blurry and began to spin around, the MiG turning upside down along with the sky, the warehouse, the rebels, and everything else. He cursed out loud. Not again; not now.

  “What is it, Justin?” Carrie asked.

  She had stopped about ten yards up ahead and to his right.

  Justin shook his head. “Nothing. I just … I need a second.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “Sure I can.”

  “Do you want to stay back?”

  “No, I said I can do it.”

  Carrie smiled. “Let’s go then.”

  Justin’s vision was still blurry, so he blinked to clear it. That did little to help, and the aircraft was still tipped to its side, but he pushed forward. At least, we haven’t been discovered.

  A bullet thumping next to his head proved him wrong.

  Ihor opened up with his PKM machine gun.

  Carrie readied her rocket-propelled grenade launcher.

  Justin wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. Some of the fog still remained, but he could make out the shapes of silhouettes running and driving toward them. It didn’t matter how they looked. They were all enemies, advancing to kill Justin and all his teammates.

  He fired a short burst and nodded to himself as at least one of the rebels fell down. Justin turned his rifle to the nearest SUV, as Carrie fired her launcher. The projectile tore through the air, flying low over the field. It pierced the SUV’s windshield, turning it into a fireball.

  Ihor’s bullets struck the second SUV.

  As Justin’s vision cleared up, he saw the SUV’s windshield erupting into a spray of glass fragments. The driver and the passengers were either killed or mortally wounded. The SUV rolled to a slow stop, but no one stepped or crawled outside.

  Justin looked at the control tower. The two muzzle flashes were still there, but they seemed to be preoccupied with the Russian team.

  “Now, now, let’s go,” Carrie shouted.

  Justin stood up, leaning mostly on his right leg. The cramp had lessened, but it was still there. He ran as fast as he could, and they made good progress. They were now about thirty yards away from the MiG. Ihor was up ahead and had secured a position near the back of the airplane. He was staying far enough away so that any incoming fire wouldn’t damage the aircraft.

  Carrie reached the MiG and took a closer look. It wasn’t in the greatest shape, with the canopy dirty and one of the tires looking somewhat deflated. The airframe showed no visible sign of damage, but there was some corrosion near the landing gear and the doors. The aircraft wasn’t loaded with any missiles, but it was armed with four FAB-500 high-explosive, free-fall bombs. A GSh-30-1 cannon was affixed to the port wing. She looked at Justin and said, “Looks good, locked and loaded. Are you ready?”

  “Always.”

  “Good.” She pointed at the hangars about fifty yards away. “There should be helmets and a ladder there. I’ll be right back.”

  She picked up her rifle and dashed toward the hangars.

  Justin turned his sights to the control tower. No one was firing from there, and he wondered what was going on. Maybe the Russians killed them. Ava had a Dragunov SVD 7.62x54Rmm sniper rifle, and, while Justin hadn’t seen her use it, she wouldn’t be carrying it for looks.

  He looked at the end of the runway through his rifle’s scope. No one was firing from the positions near the concrete blocks or the shed. The white truck had stopped about seventy yards away from the shed. No one was around it.

  A niggling feeling rose up from the pit of his stomach. What’s going on? He didn’t like the unnerving silence.

  He looked at the concrete blocks and realized what was going on. He couldn’t believe his eyes, and he shook his head violently. No, no, that can’t be. Is it… is it my vision playing tricks on me again?

  He knew that wasn’t the case.

  The silhouette that had just stood up was Ava. She had her arms up in the air, in a clear sign of surrender. Next to her, Lazar also was unarmed and had surrendered.

  Savin, the man behind them, held a pistol pointed at their heads.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Zhdanvatka Airfield

  Donetsk People’s Republic

  Justin couldn’t believe his eyes. There was a second traitor in Ava’s team, Savin. That’s how they knew we were coming. He glanced at the MiG. Is the plane rigged?

  Carrie dashed toward him. She was dragging an orange metal ladder behind her and had fastened a helmet on her head. She had another helmet for Justin as well. “We don’t have much time.” She gestured toward the end of the runway.

  Justin gave her a perplexed look. “We should intervene.”

  “We can’t. The mission can’t wait…”

  “What about Ava and Lazar? The rebels will kill them.”

  Carrie shook her head. “No, they’re more valuable alive than dead. They’re Russians. The rebels will trade them for comrades held by the Ukrainians. Let’s go.” She gave him his helmet and ran toward the MiG.

  Justin shook his head and sighed. He didn’t feel right abandoning Ava and Lazar to their doom. She had saved his life.

  He was cursing the turn of events when Ihor came up next to him. “Justin, get out of here. There’s still a missile you need to destroy. I’ll help them.”

  “You’re only one man—”

  “And so are you. Well, you have Carrie, but I have this.” He held up his PKM machine gun.

  Justin shook his head again. “It’s at least four or five of them.”

  Ihor shrugged. “Piece of cookie…” />
  Justin smiled. “Piece of cake. The expression is ‘piece of cake.’”

  Ihor said, “I like cookies better than cake. Go.”

  Justin gave Ihor a quick embrace. “I’ll see you again. Alive.”

  “If God wills it.” Ihor crossed himself.

  “He does.”

  Justin fastened the helmet and ran toward the aircraft.

  Carrie had already lifted the single canopy of the tandem seats and was sitting in the cockpit. She was strapped in and getting herself and the jet ready. She gave him a thumbs-up sign and gestured for him to hurry up.

  Justin yanked the ejection seat safety pins and sat behind Carrie. He wiggled around for a moment in the small cramped seat, until he got comfortable. He thought of the time when both he and Carrie flew in a similar MiG-29 over Mumbai. But that had been a reconnaissance mission, dangerous, but much different from this one.

  He connected the oxygen mask, then checked the radio link. “Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear,” Carrie said.

  When he was buckled up and ready, he said to Carrie, “What if the plane is rigged?”

  “Pre-check is good. We don’t have much ammo, but enough if we don’t miss.”

  “You’re not gonna miss.”

  “Let’s do this.”

  The canopy slid closed over their heads.

  Justin ran his gloved hand over the canopy’s lock. It was good. He glanced out the canopy as Ihor pulled away the ladder. Then Justin looked at the end of the runway as Ihor opened up with his machine gun. Three gunmen had stepped out of the SUV. They had rifles, but no rocket-propelled grenades.

  Ihor moved to a position about sixty yards to the left, toward the hangar. He dropped behind a car that provided good cover and squeezed the trigger.

  No return fire from the rebels or anyone else from the control tower. Maybe Ava or Lazar were able to kill the shooters at the tower…

  A moment later, Carrie fired up the Klimov RD-33 turbofan engines. Justin heard the whining of the engines as they began to spool up. The MiG vibrated with their powering-up. Justin drew in a deep breath. He glanced at the instrument panel, trying to follow Carrie’s operations. She had selected the navigation mode for their short flight to the missile’s location, at the Lugapol military base. Once they were airborne, it was going to be just a matter of minutes.

  Carrie released the brakes and increased the throttle.

  The force threw Justin back into his seat.

  The MiG rolled down the tarmac.

  Carrie then pulled back on the stick, and the fighter lifted off the runway.

  Justin looked down at the rebels. All three of them had aimed their weapons at the MiG. He thought he saw muzzle flashes, but couldn’t be sure. He heard no thumping of bullets against the fighter, but a loud clanking noise came from the landing gear locking into place.

  “We’re good,” Carrie said. “No damage.”

  “Great.”

  The MiG gained altitude.

  Justin looked to his left at the hill country, the houses, stretches of arable lands broken up by roads or thickets. In the distance, he saw the long barracks of the base.

  Carrie said, “RWR tells me the enemy radar is looking for us.”

  Justin nodded. He had heard the sharp beep of the radar warning receiver.

  “What missiles do they have?”

  “Beside the Yars?”

  “Not funny.”

  “Well, no idea then. We’ll see.”

  She banked to the left and turned toward the base. She stayed at five thousand feet and was doing close to six hundred kilometers per hour. A good range to drop the high-explosive bombs, but remain beyond the range of most enemy weapons.

  “We’ll be there in a few seconds,” Carrie said.

  Justin looked down as the barracks came into view. According to Ava’s intelligence, the Yars missile was hidden inside the largest warehouse, at the northern end of the base. It was coming up fast.

  “Drop and go,” Carrie shouted.

  She pressed the release button.

  Justin glanced at the instrument panel, then below.

  Nothing happened.

  “What’s wrong?” he said.

  “I don’t know.”

  Carrie tried again.

  Again, nothing.

  “Something isn’t right with the system.”

  “The angle?”

  “No; angle, altitude, speed—it’s all good. But it’s not working.”

  She banked to the right.

  “We’ll go back for a second time.”

  Justin clenched his teeth. What if it doesn’t work the second time?

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Zhdanvatka Airfield

  Donetsk People’s Republic

  “Savin, you son of a—”

  “Shut up, or I’ll put a bullet in your head.” Savin tapped Ava’s head with his pistol’s muzzle. “You had your chance, and you lost. Now deal with it.”

  “I am dealing with it. And it’s not over.”

  “It is so over…”

  Two men had jumped out from the back of the SUV. They ran toward the Russian team with rifles aimed at them.

  The driver’s door opened, and a woman stepped out. Tiana brushed back a messy shock of her blonde hair, then looked at Savin. “I’m impressed and delighted, soldier. Unlike your pathetic friend, you did a good job.”

  Savin offered a small nod. “You shouldn’t have had any doubts. I said I was going to do it, and do it well.”

  Tiana shrugged. She removed her pistol from the holster at her right thigh. “People say lots of things.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Like these people, who said they were coming here to blow up a rocket.” Tiana gestured at Ava and Lazar and made a very surprised face.

  The gunmen laughed out loud. One of them spat in Ava’s direction.

  She unclenched her locked jaws to say only, “It’s not over.”

  “You keep saying that like it’s going to change things,” Savin said.

  Tiana stepped closer to Ava. “It’s because this little dirtbag thinks too highly of herself.” Tiana slapped Ava with the pistol-holding hand across her face.

  One of the pistol’s metal edges caught against Ava’s nose, and blood sprayed out of the wound. The blow sent her to the ground. She fell down to her hands and knees.

  Lazar dashed forward to help her, but one of the guards struck him with his rifle. The sharp muzzle hit Lazar in the stomach, and he collapsed next to Ava.

  Tiana laughed. “Yes, these fools need to learn who’s in charge here.” She kicked Ava to the side, then stomped on her back.

  Ava moaned and fell onto her stomach.

  Tiana said, “They still believe their friends can finish their mission.” She leaned over Ava. “They’re taking the jet; we know that. But it’s not going to work. The jet is a piece of junk. It can’t even drop bombs.”

  Ava spat out blood and rolled onto her back.

  A volley of bullets thumped against the back of the SUV.

  Tiana glanced over her shoulder, just for a moment. They were away from the bullets, but bullets were unpredictable. She gestured to the gunmen. “Take care of the shooter.”

  They joined a third gunman, who was already firing from the SUV’s left side.

  Ava looked up at Tiana. “You think you’re tough with that gun, huh?”

  “What?” Tiana gave her an incredulous look. “You think the pistol makes me tough? You’re more stupid than I thought…” She tossed it to the side, on the grass, just beyond the runway’s edge. Then she leaned over Ava. “Get up, get up, and I’ll show you.”

  Ava slowly sat up. She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she got to her feet as the MiG fighter jet took off from the runway.

  The three gunmen turned their rifles toward the airplane. A few of their bullets struck the wings, but didn’t stop the jet.

  Ava smiled. “They’re going to do it. One way or an
other, they’ll destroy the missile. You can’t stop them.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? They’re already stopped.”

  Ava looked at Lazar, who had managed to stand up. He was wavering on his feet and grasping at his chest. She looked at the gunmen who had taken positions around the SUV and were firing at Ihor, who seemed to be hiding around the corner of the hangar. She shook her head. “No, but I will stop you now.”

  “Bring it.” Tiana invited Ava with a hand gesture.

  Ava put her fists up and stepped forward, but her balance was slightly off. Still, she was able to block Tiana’s first blow, but the second one found an opening. It struck Ava’s left jaw and sent her backwards. Tiana threw another punch, but Ava had recovered and blocked it with her left forearm. She responded with a quick right jab that found Tiana’s left side. She groaned in pain, as Ava threw another punch that knocked the air out of Tiana’s lungs.

  Ava kicked with her left leg, but Tiana blocked the move. She punched Ava in the stomach, a light blow the first time, followed by a harder one. Ava stepped backwards, her legs almost failing her. But she remained standing, then ducked and stepped to the side as Tiana threw a couple of punches. They found only air, and Ava danced in half a circle around Tiana.

  Ava said, “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Tiana said, “I was playing, like a cat with a mouse.”

  “I think you’re the mouse…”

  “Now, I’m going to kill you.”

  Ava looked at Lazar. He seemed to have recovered and gave her a reassuring nod.

  Tiana rushed forward and threw a couple of punches. They broke through Ava’s defenses. One struck her left ear. The burning pain zipped through her skull, and the world went blurry. But only for a moment. The next punch missed, because she was able to throw her head back. Still, Tiana’s fist almost brushed against Ava’s bleeding nose.

  She spat out blood again and returned a swift kick with her left leg. Tiana tried to block it and catch Ava’s leg. She had anticipated the reaction, so she threw her other, dominant leg. The boot connected hard with Tiana’s head. She moved back, out of balance, struggling for a firm footing.