"Yeah," Sean said. "I just hope we don't run into any other snags."
"I know that worrying about stuff like that is kind of one of your things, but just this once, can you let it go? We're going to be fine."
Sean nodded as he surveyed the airfield, keeping his eyes open for trouble.
"Come on," Tommy said. "Let's get our stuff and climb aboard."
"Yeah."
His paranoia was on full alert as he got out of the car and walked to the back to get his bag. His head swiveled one way and then the other, constantly watching the darkness surrounding the airfield.
He hated it when things were this quiet, though he didn't dare say that to Tommy. His friend's reaction would be something along the lines of, "Well what would you prefer? An angry mob of henchmen rushing after us?"
Sean knew better so, he kept his mouth shut and picked up his bag.
He'd already tucked his pistol inside his jacket beforehand in case something happened while they were waiting.
When Tommy finished collecting his things, Sean closed the trunk and started marching across the asphalt toward the plane. They left their car next to one of the hangars a few hundred feet away. It was out of the way and wouldn't draw attention, not that it mattered too much. The plates were fake, and the registration belonged to a false identity, a cover in case of a random traffic stop by the police.
Halfway to the plane, a bright light flashed in the corner of Sean's eye. He spun around as the sound of a car's engine accompanied it.
Two headlights were roaring toward them. The vehicle had come, seemingly, out of nowhere and was closing fast.
"Friends of yours?" Tommy asked.
"I was going to ask you the same question."
"Looks like they're going to run us over. Thoughts?"
Sean wasn't the type to shoot first and ask questions later. Initially, he hoped the car might be Adriana or Emily. That thought changed in an instant as the car picked up speed.
"Wait for it," Sean said. "Dive clear at the last second."
"Or maybe run for it now?"
The two friends stood their ground, staring down the headlights racing toward them. The car was only a hundred feet away now and closing quickly.
"Hold!" Sean said as he pulled out his pistol and took aim at the oncoming vehicle. "One more second..."
Sean lined up the windshield where he thought the driver would be seated. At fifty feet, he fought his nerves to keep the weapon steady. Then his finger twitched, and the muzzle erupted.
The slug smashed through the windshield, sending a web of cracks through its left half. The car jerked hard to the left and careened toward the hangar before coming to a sudden stop.
Sean kept his weapon trained on the vehicle. The engine was still running, and the lights stayed on. He didn't notice any movement inside.
Sean motioned for Tommy to circle around the other side.
Tommy nodded, taking his own weapon out of his gear bag and making sure a round was chambered.
Sean looped around the other way, approaching the plane as he did so. "Stay inside the aircraft," Sean ordered the pilot, who was crouching at the top of the steps, taking cover in the plane's doorway.
The man nodded and ducked back into the interior to stay out of sight.
Emily's pilots were civilians, untrained in most forms of combat. Their primary usefulness was getting agents to and from mission drop points. Other than that, they were pretty useless. Some were armed, but Sean didn't trust a person with a gun if he hadn't seen them use it in the field.
Cautiously, Sean worked his way to the right until he was staring at the broadside of the black sedan. The darkly tinted windows made it impossible to see anything or anyone inside.
He took a step forward, closing the gap between him and the vehicle to about forty feet.
Suddenly, one of the back doors flung open, and the barrel of a gun appeared. Sean reacted fast, firing over and over at the door until he saw the barrel retract inside.
Tommy was approaching from the other side, keeping his angle the same as Sean's to make sure they didn't catch each other in friendly fire.
When Sean started shooting, Tommy's instincts were to shoot, too. He resisted, waiting for a target to appear.
He looked over at Sean. His shoulders raised, a signal that he was wondering if Sean took out the threat.
Then the back left door swung open, and another barrel popped out with the muzzle blazing. Tommy was out in the open with nowhere to take cover. He dove to the ground and shot back, squeezing the trigger repeatedly, peppering the car with round after round until the weapon clicked. He pushed himself off the ground and ran to his left. With no cover in sight, the only thing he could do was make the angle more difficult for the other shooter.
The only problem was that doing so put him in Sean's crossfire.
It was a risk Tommy had to take.
He pumped his legs while reaching into one of his coat pockets for a full magazine. His fingers fumbled with the object and as he tried to eject the empty one, dropped the other onto the ground.
Tommy stopped in his tracks and spun around to pick up the magazine. He crouched to one knee as another round of gunfire erupted from the car.
Sean saw what happened and tried to give his friend some suppressing fire, pounding the car with round after round until his magazine was also empty. He moved fluidly, crossing the tarmac toward the front of the car as he ejected the empty magazine and popped in a new one.
The gunman in the back of the car poked his pistol out again and fired. Sparks flashed around Sean's feet. One slug whizzed by his head. And then Sean opened fire once more. The window splintered and cracked but didn't shatter due to the heavy tinting.
Tommy grasped the magazine as the shooter on his side stepped out into the open and took aim.
Suddenly, two bright headlights lined up the gunman and the stopped car. An engine whined as a black SUV rumbled across the asphalt.
The gunman turned his attention away from Tommy and started firing at the oncoming vehicle.
He unloaded the contents of his weapon, but the SUV kept coming, faster and faster. Tommy and Sean couldn't see who was driving it.
Sean's gunman also turned away, ducking back into the car to see who the newcomer was and what they were trying to do.
It was a critical mistake.
As Tommy's shooter fired his final round into the SUV's windshield, he tried to dive clear. The SUV smashed into him, crushing him momentarily against the sedan in a thunderous crash. The car flipped over onto its side, grinding on the pavement for thirty feet while the gunman's body flew clear of the wreckage and rolled to a dead stop.
Rubber squealed and steam started billowing out of the SUV's hood until it came to a stop, casting the airport back into an eerie silence. Tommy and Sean stared in disbelief at the wreckage. The smell of coolant, water, fuel, and burned gunpowder filled the air.
Tommy raised his weapon and moved cautiously toward the driver side of the newcomer's vehicle. Sean circled around to the other side, also keeping his gun drawn in case of another threat.
Sean wondered who was behind the wheel. Like the sedan, the windows were tinted too dark to see in. The windshield was cracked, making it difficult to get a good view through the front.
The door clicked and eased open a few inches.
"Don't be stupid!" Tommy yelled. "You've got two expert marksmen at point blank range staring you down. If you're going to get out, do it nice and slow."
Ten seconds went by before the door moved another inch. This time, a pale set of fingers appeared over the top of it. A second later, another hand raised over the door.
"That's right," Sean said. "Keep your hands where we can see them." He hoped it was Emily or Adriana. Upon seeing the hands and forearms, he knew it was a guy.
The door opened all the way, and a young blond man came into view. Tommy's eyebrows lowered. He didn't recognize the driver.
"Anyone else
in there?" Tommy asked.
The young man shook his head slowly. "No," he said. His accent was distinctly Russian. "I am alone."
Sean approached the SUV and swung open the front door, then the back, making sure the guy wasn't lying.
"Truck is clear," Sean said.
He hurried around the back and found Tommy pointing his gun at the driver. "I'm going to check the car. Keep an eye on him."
Tommy gave an upward nod as Sean leaned in through one of the broken windows and found the car's driver bent at an awkward angle. A bullet hole oozed thick crimson from his chest. A look into the back revealed two more men. One was lying across the seat with his face bloodied. His chest didn't rise and fall, signaling he was gone. The man who'd been crushed by the oncoming vehicle was still lying perfectly still a few dozen feet away—killed on impact.
"Well, that went exactly according to plan," Sean said to Tommy as he rejoined his friend.
"Plan? We're lucky this guy showed up," Tommy's voice rose.
"Maybe we were a bit lucky."
Tommy ignored his friend for a moment and directed his attention to the new guy. "Who are you?" he asked, keeping a safe distance between himself and the Russian.
"My name is Yuri," he said, twisting his head slightly to the left toward Sean.
"What are you doing here?" Sean asked.
"I think the words you are looking for, Mr. Wyatt, are thank you."
"I'll keep my gratitude in check until you tell us what's going on and why you're here."
"Mr. Wyatt, if I had wanted to kill you or your friend, I wouldn't have hit them with my vehicle. Your friend, Mr. Schultz, was—as you Americans say—a sitting goose. I could have run over him easily."
Sean frowned. "Duck. I think you mean sitting...you know, never mind."
Tommy flashed his friend a sidelong glance, wondering what they should do next.
Sean lowered his weapon at an angle, still keeping it at the ready just in case.
Tommy did the same.
"Thank you," Yuri said.
"Start talking," Sean demanded.
"As I told you, my name is Yuri. I work for Russian intelligence."
"Russian intelligence?" Sean asked.
"Spetsnaz, actually. I have been tracking your movements for some time. I was sent here by my president to retrieve something that belongs to us, something that was lost a long time ago."
Tommy and Sean exchanged confused looks.
"What?" they said simultaneously.
"May I put my hands down?"
The two friends nodded, and Yuri dropped his arms.
"Thank you." He took a cautious step away from the steaming SUV and assessed the damage.
"I suppose we should thank you, as you suggested," Sean said. "Why'd you help us just now?"
"Because those men are also after what I seek. You and your friend are looking for something else. Both things, however, are in the same place."
Sean and Tommy were more confused than ever.
"I'd say we could discuss it on the plane," Yuri said, "but I feel like you wouldn't let me on board unless I gave you a good enough reason."
"You'd be right," Sean said.
"Very well. Time is short, so I'll speak fast and frank." He crossed his arms as he addressed the two Americans.
"When the United States purchased Alaska from the czar of Russia, they promised to pay a sum just over $7 million American dollars. The payment was sent in the form of gold bullion, collected in several chests, and sent west to be shipped via boat."
Tommy and Sean nodded. They knew about the history surrounding the Alaska Purchase. What they didn't know was where this guy was going with his tale.
Yuri went on. "That payment never arrived."
"It didn't arrive?" Tommy asked. "I never read anything about that."
"And you never will. It's a part of the history books that was mysteriously omitted. The czar went back and forth with your government over the issue. The United States claimed the payment was sent. The czar claimed it didn't arrive."
Sean and Tommy were dubious. They'd heard about shipments of gold disappearing throughout history. This one was new to them both.
"So, what did the two sides do?" Sean asked.
"What could we do? The czar wasn't interested in going to war with the United States. He had his own problems to deal with. For a long time, no one mentioned the missing gold or the deal with America.
"Now there is a strong sentiment in Russia to try to take back Alaska. Our previous leader already made a move on Ukraine to take back a part of former Soviet land. The current president has no interest in taking such measures, especially with the United States. It would result in all-out war. No one wants that. All he wants is what is due to the Russian government."
"He sent you here to find the gold?" Tommy asked, incredulous.
"Yes. I am to find the bullion and bring it back to the Russian Federation. Then my country will have what it was due, and we will have closure to the issue of Alaska."
Tommy snorted derisively. "He sent you here to find $7 million dollars' worth of gold?"
"No, Mr. Schultz. That bullion is worth over $120 million in today's money. Possibly more. Honestly, it isn't even the financial worth of the treasure that my president is interested in. It's the point. He wants to make a name for himself as the leader who got the Russian people what they deserve. His plan is to use that money for schools and infrastructure. It may seem insignificant to a country with $15 trillion in debt, but to us it's important."
The two Americans couldn't argue that point. Still, it seemed a lot of trouble to go through to get a few treasure chests of gold that may or may not be at the bottom of the ocean.
"How do you know the ships didn't sink on the way to Russia?" Sean asked. "The ones carrying the gold, I mean."
"As far as we can tell, those ships never left. We've learned that they were boarded by what appeared to be pirates. We have reason to believe those pirates were actually KGC operatives. They hijacked the gold transport vessels and took them somewhere secret."
Sean and Tommy were dubious, and they didn't try to hide it.
"You're telling me this assignment from your president is entirely based on the theory that the KGC took Russia's gold and hid it somewhere?" Tommy asked.
"It isn't a theory, Mr. Schultz. I would not be here if that was all we had."
He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a picture. The image was a black-and-white photo. From the resolution, the two Americans figured it was probably taken around the turn of the twentieth century. Possibly earlier.
In the middle of the image were two steamships sitting in a bay surrounded by enormous mountains in the background.
"Is that Anchorage?" Sean said while looking over his friend's shoulder.
"Yes. The very early days of Anchorage," Yuri said. "This image was taken by one of Russia's sailors who survived the attack on the ships. He and another of his crew tracked down the ships and took this picture."
"With the limited abilities of the cameras back then, that must have taken some doing," Tommy said.
"Not to mention how bulky they were."
"I don't understand. If the KGC took your gold, surely they'd know that could incite a war with Russia."
Yuri nodded in agreement. "Yes, they probably did. Our theory is that was what they were hoping."
"It would make sense," Sean said. "Even though the KGC was more interested in profits than politics, their history of allegiance to the Confederacy was deeply rooted. It's plausible that they may have hoped a war with Russia could further weaken the Union."
"And with a powerful new ally like Russia, the South could have resumed military operations against the North," Tommy added.
"But that didn't happen."
"No," Yuri said. "It didn't. Russia had its own military concerns at the time, and a war with the United States would have been catastrophic, no matter who the allies might have been."
; "So, here you are, looking for the lost gold from the Alaska Purchase."
"Correct. I have been following you, Mr. Wyatt, since you began your search. I knew that you and your friend were the only two people who could figure out the secret in the Seward letter. That's why I had one of my people infiltrate the White House and put it somewhere your president would find it."
Infiltrate the White House? The two Americans wondered how he'd pulled that off considering the intense vetting process required to even visit the historic mansion. Was this person a part of the president's team of advisers, an intern, or something else?
Sean had a feeling he wouldn't get an answer to that question. There was one, however, that was at the top of his list. And he had to press it.
"Were you the one behind the assassination attempt on President Dawkins?"
Yuri raised a finger. "I thought you might ask that. No, we were not behind the attempt on your leader's life. That was the KGC. They must have found out what you were up to and that Dawkins was involved. No doubt the man that was killed by the police outside the hotel was a sacrificial lamb. He may not have even been the one who put the weapon in place, though he certainly assisted in getting it through security."
The three men stood awkwardly on the tarmac for a moment, unsure of what they should do next.
"Based on your sudden appearance and the fact that you're telling us all this, I'm going to guess you'd like a lift up to Alaska."
Yuri's stoic expression never changed. "I can secure my own means of transportation; however, it would save me a good deal of time if I could come along. All I ask is that if we find the stolen gold, you allow me to take that back to my country. I give you my word, I will take no more than what is owed. If we find anything above what was the agreed payment to Russia, that belongs to the United States."
It was an interesting offer. While allowing Yuri to tag along could be troublesome if the young man was lying, it was also possible that he could be useful. He'd already bailed Sean and Tommy out of a mess a few minutes before.
"You mind if we have a minute, Yuri?" Sean asked.
"Certainly. I will wait."
Sean pulled his friend aside, standing near the airplane as they talked. "You think he's telling the truth?"
The Sean Wyatt Series Box Set 4 Page 78
