by Eric Meyer
Waite was already examining the massive, old-fashioned iron door.
"We're in luck. The hinges are on the outside. Modern safes would have hinges mounted internally, which makes it difficult to hit them with explosives. Give me ten minutes, and we'll be inside. Only problem is, it'll be noisy when the charge detonates."
He nodded. "It's going to wake them up upstairs. Joe, Al, it's time to prepare for hostiles. We have to hold them off until we have the file. Then we'll exfil the way we came in, up the elevator shaft. It's still dark, so with any luck, they won't see us."
"Roger that," Al nodded, "There are plenty of wooden crates lying around, enough to make a barricade. I think we're gonna need it."
They dragged the heavy crates toward the foot of the stairwell. One of them was full, and when Elena saw them struggling with the heavy burden, she insisted on checking out the contents. Al prized the lid off, and they heard her intake of breath as she looked inside.
"You know what this is?" She didn't wait for a reply, "These are bronze busts, dating back to around the second century. I can't believe they're just lying here forgotten."
"They're solid bronze?" Joe asked.
"Oh, yes, they're solid, and very rare. I doubt there is anything like this in any museum in the world. It's an amazing discovery."
He smiled. "That's good news."
"It'll stop a bullet," Al explained.
She grimaced when she understood. "They could be damaged beyond repair, and the loss to civilization would be immense."
"The alternative is one or all of us could be lost to civilization, and believe me, the loss would be much worse."
"Let me just take one and put it somewhere safe," she pleaded, "A small one."
Al shrugged, and she extracted a small bust of a Roman woman, about ten inches high. While they worked, she tucked it into her backpack.
"At least I can save one of these beautiful pieces," she said to them.
"Yeah, that's very reassuring," Raider nodded.
He looked at Waite. "How long?"
"A couple of minutes, Boss. It'll be quicker if you leave me to it."
"Sorry."
He turned away as Joe called a warning, "We have company. Coming down the stairs. If we need to shoot, we'll use the MP5SDs, at least until the enemy starts shooting. After that, it won't make any difference."
He unslung the sound suppressed machine pistol and pulled back the cocking handle. Joe did the same; he was carrying the other MP5. The others had M4-A1 assault rifles, accurate and powerful, capable of putting out continuous heavy fire, but noisy as hell.
The steps came nearer, and he guessed four men were on their way down. At first, he assumed it was a patrol, but that assumption was rudely torn apart. The sound of shots fired from some distance away echoed around the building. The approaching Russians began talking amongst themselves.
Elena came close to him and whispered, "They said it's an attack from outside. They're sending two men to investigate, and the other two are staying down here to protect the safe."
An attack! That could only mean Malenkov's Spetsnaz operation has begun. And that meant…
"Joe, we need to kill them, right now. Spetsnaz could be pumping gas into this place any moment, and we'll need a clear exit from the building. Forget the noise, just shoot the bastards."
Side-by-side, they ran up the steps. The two Russians had started down, and their expressions showed astonishment when they ran into the two intruders. Dressed in combat gear, their faces hidden by NV goggles, their hands gripping machine pistols, they were death. One of the Russians screamed a warning and raised his assault rifle. The other man spun around and tried to escape back up the staircase. Neither of them made it.
Raider pumped three 9mm bullets into the man running up the stairs. Joe hit the other soldier with a well-aimed burst, stitching a line of holes into his chest. But not before the Russian, in a final, desperate act squeezed the trigger of his AKM. He fired a burst that smacked into the iron door of the safe, and bullets ricocheted around the basement.
"Is anyone hit?" he shouted. The need for silence had evaporated once the shooting started.
They called back in the negative.
"Waite, how long?"
"One minute."
"Copy that. All of you, respirators on, now!"
They had to remove the NV goggles, pull the respirators over their faces, and replace the goggles. The alternative would have been to face death once the gas started pumping. Given the record of Spetsnaz in urban operations, it was a racing certainty.
"I'm ready to detonate!" Waite shouted.
"Blow it."
"Fire in the hole!"
For some reason, Elena misunderstood the shout and stayed on her feet, even walking closer to the strongroom door. Raider dived across, grabbed her in a flying tackle, flinging her to the ground just as the C4 detonated. Even though Waite had molded the charges carefully, the explosion was massive, and the shockwave tore into him as he lay on her body, protecting her. Pieces of steel from the smashed hinges pinged and whistled around the basement room, and he held her down until they'd died away. Finally, he allowed her up.
"You were about to take a hit from a ten pound chunk of iron."
She nodded her thanks. "My fault. Is the safe open?"
Her goggles had twisted, and they were no longer in place over her eyes. He helped her adjust them, so she could see the door had blown completely off the frame.
Waite rushed forward, and Al joined him. They rummaged through the contents of the strong room. There were small statues, paintings, and a bunch of bladed weapons looking like they dated back to biblical times. On one side, the wall was lined with shelves for documents. It was empty.
"They're coming," Joe shouted, his voice muffled by the respirator. He cursed and switched on his headset, "A couple of minutes, then there'll be some shooting."
"Copy that. Elena, take a look. Can you see any file, documents, anything?" he asked, with a sick sense of desperation.
"One moment, I'm looking at it now."
She searched the strongroom, moving aside statues, looking through a stack of icons. The shooting became louder, and it was obvious the attackers were forcing their way through the building toward the basement.
"You need to hurry it up," Joe said, his voice laced with urgency.
She looked up. "There's nothing."
"If we don't recover that file, Abigail dies. Look again."
She regarded him with a look of compassion. "Yes, of course. But I've searched everywhere. It's not there."
"They're getting nearer!" Joe shouted, "We need to get out of here right now. Once they reach the stairwell, they'll use grenades."
They had to leave. He'd resume the hunt for the Putin file when they got out.
"Elena, let's go. Al, take the point. I'll follow with Elena, then you, Joe. Waite, organize a little surprise for our Russian friends."
"With pleasure."
They raced for the gap in the elevator door and squeezed though into the shaft. Al showed Elena how to use the rope.
"You know what to do. Use your hands and knees to grip the line. I'll be right behind you, so you won't fall. If..."
The burst of gunfire came from above. Shots ricocheted off the walls of the shaft. Al dragged her out of the shaft.
"They know we're here. They're on the first floor, trying to pick us off as we climb back up."
"Copy that. We need another way out."
He dragged Elena back into the basement and looked back at Al as he squeezed back out of the gate.
"You're hit. I can see blood. How bad is it?"
He tried to appear nonchalant. "Bastards winged me. The bullet went through the shoulder. A couple more inches and it would've been brain surgery.
"They're not climbing down the shaft?"
"Not yet, no."
Waite was looking over, his expression anxious. "How bad is it?"
"It won't stop him doing an
y fishing, if that's what you were worried about," Raider responded.
"That's okay, then."
He turned to Elena. "Put a dressing on the wound. You have to staunch the flow of blood."
"I don't..."
"Just do it!"
He ran to the foot of the staircase where Joe was doing his best to hold off the attackers. Bullets chipped chunks of stone from the wall, and they pulled back out of the gunshots from above.
"How're we looking here?"
"Not good," Joe grimaced, "There's maybe a half-dozen of them up there, and they're not short of ammunition. There's no way we're going up this staircase, not today."
Raider nodded and raced back to Waite. He was fashioning a charge out of chunks of C4, with an attached timer fuser. "Something to slow them down," he grinned.
"You'll need two of those. They're coming at us from two sides."
"Two? He looked at the elevator shaft, wincing as a hurricane of fire came down the stairwell, "I see what you mean. Boss, you know if they defeated the Pamyat paramilitaries, there has to be a lot of them, thirty or forty, maybe. If my booby traps take out half of them, we're still in the shit."
"I know that, but at least it'll whittle down the numbers. There's nothing else we can do."
"That's not exactly true."
He looked around. Elena had finished putting the dressing on Al. She was standing only feet behind him.
"How come?"
She pointed at the floor directly beneath her feet. "There's a manhole cover here. I believe it leads into the main Moscow sewer system."
He nodded at Waite. "Give me a hand. Let's take a look. Joe, watch the staircase. Al, can you keep an eye on the shaft?"
"No sweat."
Waite ran over and inspected the round iron plate set in the floor. He knelt down and tried to shift it. After a few seconds of sweating and heaving, he gave up.
"There's no way. It's probably been in place since the building was erected. I can always blow it, although we don't know what's down there. A sewage system could be full of methane, or any of a number of gases. This is Moscow, so stale vodka is my guess. The blast could destroy the entire building."
"Do it. We're out of options. Then plant those charges on the shaft and the staircase. We're going to need the chaos to help us get out."
"Yeah, I'll do that. Give me a second."
An explosion ripped across the basement from the staircase, and Joe shouted in agony.
A grenade! We're sitting ducks down here.
He raced over to him and found him lying on the floor in a pool of blood.
"What is it, Joe? Where are you hit?"
He didn't answer, and Raider leaned down for a closer look. His vest was riddled with metal splinters, grenade fragments. He sighed with relief; when he listened to his breathing it was normal. He'd just been knocked out. There was no sign of any bleeding from his nose or mouth, so he assumed he hadn't suffered internal injuries. He dragged him away from the stairwell and slid four large wooden crates next to the lower step, to make a grenade trap. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.
"I'm ready to blow the manhole," Waite called to him. He'd piled a heap of old tarpaulins over the iron cover to stop the metal splinters when the charge detonated.
He looked around. They were all clear of the immediate area.
"Hit it."
The explosion was a muted roar, and another powerful shockwave almost knocked him over. But the iron cover had disappeared. Instead, there was a gaping, black hole in the floor. He stared down with his NV goggles. It was about eight meters deep and half a meter in diameter. At the bottom, he could see a trickle of water running south.
Carrying sewage toward the Moscow River, no question.
He gagged. The stench coming up from the hole was almost as powerful as the C4 explosives.
"Waite, are the booby traps ready?"
"Yep. Just give the word."
"Okay, drop the rope. Go down and make sure there's a way out. Elena, as soon as it's clear follow him. You have to do this on your own."
She paled. "On my own?"
"You'll have Waite to help you at the bottom. There's no other way."
"But how will you manage to get the injured men down that shaft? It's impossible for one man."
He grinned. "A long time ago, we were SEALs. They trained us to do the impossible."
But I didn't recover the file. Not yet.
He ducked and pushed her head down as another grenade exploded at the foot of the stairwell, but the wooden crates protected them from the worst of the blast.
Waite had disappeared into the shaft. Seconds later, he called up from the bottom, his voice a muffled echo. "There's a way out, a narrow tunnel. It's tight, but we might make it. It depends what we find further along. "
"Copy that. Elena, go. Waite, she's on the way. When she reaches you, I'll lower Al and Joe."
"I'll be here."
She clung to the rope and started to slide down. Two more explosions ripped through the basement, this time from the elevator shaft. They were smaller than before, and white vapor began drifting across the open space.
"More gas! Make sure your masks are secure. I'll start lowering Al and then Joe. We need to hurry it up. We're running out of time, people."
"I can make it on my own," Al protested.
"Sure you can. Forget it, I'm lowering you down. We're gonna need you later, and if you mess up your shoulder any more, you won't even be able to fire a gun."
Two more grenades exploded at the bottom of the staircase as he fastened the rope to Al's webbing. He eased him into the manhole and started lowering him down. He could hear the clatter of boots on the stairs and muffled shouts from the attackers. The rope went slack as Waite grabbed hold of Al, and he was about to pull it back up when a burst of machine gun fire slashed through the basement. Bullets ricocheted all around him, and two struck his armored vest. They were getting too close, much too close.
"We're coming down," he shouted.
He had no choice. He hefted the unconscious Joe onto his shoulders and jumped. Another burst sliced through the air inches above his head as he plummeted down the shaft, gripping the rope with one hand and holding Joe's body with the other. The force of his descent was too strong to control, and all he could do was slow their fall as much as possible. Friction heated his gloved hand as they descended, and the rope started to burn through into his palm. Pain seared through him, but he had to hang on. The alternative was a fall, and Joe would go down like a sack of potatoes, breaking several bones.
Just when he thought he couldn't take the scorching heat any longer, the weight eased. Waite had taken hold of the body, and he let go of the rope with relief, dropping the last meter into the shallow water. There was no sign of Elena. She'd disappeared.
"Where is she?"
"Don't worry. She offered to go into the tunnel to scout ahead. She'll be fine."
"Copy that."
"I reckon it's time our visitors had their big surprise. Do it."
"You got it, Boss." He took out the remote detonator, "Fire in the hole."
The dual detonation was massive. The shaft rocked and vibrated. Even underground and wearing respirators that reduced their hearing, they heard shrill screams as the Russians were caught in the lethal trap.
Waite smiled. "Anyone inside a hundred meters would have been hit, and in a confined space like a basement, probably an even wider area. I made sure they were planted under wooden crates, so by now, the floor will be covered with chunks of scrap wood. With any luck, it'll take them some time before they find the manhole. After that..." He shrugged.
Raider nodded. "After that, we need to be somewhere else. We'll start moving Joe and Al into the tunnel."
"I can make it," Joe croaked, "You help Al."
Joe had dragged himself up onto all fours. They looked him over, but there was no sign of any serious injury. No more than the rest of them, covered in cuts and scratches from fl
ying wood splinters.
"If you're sure..."
"I'm sure. Where's Elena?"
He pointed at the narrow sewage tunnel. "In there, looking for a way out."
"I'll go in and see if she needs help."
"Keep your mask safe, and check hers. They were tossing gas grenades last time I looked."
"Sure."
He crawled away. Al was favoring his shoulder, and his expression betrayed the pain he was feeling, but he insisted he could make it as well.
"It's just a damn shoulder wound. I've had worse."
The dressing had staunched the flow of blood, and Raider relaxed. "Okay. Can you shoot a rifle?"
"Show me the target, and ask me the same question."
"Good enough. Let's go."
They entered the sewer tunnel and began crawling through. It was a meter high, and little more than half a meter wide. Even through the respirator filter, he could smell the cloying stench of sewage in the ancient system. Without the respirators, it would have overpowered them. There were frequent blockages where stones had fallen from the tunnel roof to form miniature dams for the stinking detritus. It had the look of a structure that only needed a slight nudge to collapse the tunnel roof in a welter of falling rock, earth, and sewage.
He put the thought out of his mind and crawled on. Fifty meters along the tunnel the system widened into a junction, and they caught up with Elena and Joe. Filthy water poured into an underground waterfall, to disappear down a flume. Three meters away, another tunnel branched away, but it was impossible to reach because of the torrent raging before it, a torrent disappearing into a maelstrom of surging whirlpools and unknown currents, into a dark unknown.
Waite was staring at it, and he turned to Raider.
"We need to decide, Boss. We could try to get across, but that tunnel may be a dead end. I don't even know if we can get Al and Joe over there."
He'd already reached the same conclusion. They only had minutes before the Russians found them. It wouldn't take many minutes to find the missing manhole cover. And then the minutes ran out. They'd found them.
"Voices," Joe called across to them, "They're on the way down."
