by Alex Lukeman
"Cool," Lamont said.
"What's our time to the objective?" Nick asked.
"Somewhere around ten hours. Depends on the weather and the waves. We can make over 30 knots if conditions are right."
"All set, Skipper," the man up front called.
They sat down and strapped in.
Jackson went forward and took his seat at the console. The engines started with a deep rumble. The vessel came alive with sound and vibration. Jackson eased the throttle open and they moved away from the safety of the base, out into the night and the Adriatic.
The craft rose up on the pontoons and hurtled forward, headed for Croatia.
CHAPTER 30
The Sankt Petersberg lay five miles off the coast of Croatia, fifty feet below the choppy surface of the Adriatic.
"Down scope."
The voice belonged to Captain First Rank Luka Ivanov. Ivanov was short and stocky, with a deep voice and a brusque attitude. The crew had nicknamed him "The Bear." Ivanov's second-in-command was Captain Lieutenant Oleg Semenov. Semenov was thinner than his captain and taller, a disadvantage in a submarine. He had a long nose that was the subject of many jokes among the enlisted men.
Squeezed into the crowded control room with the Captain and his executive officer was Senior Lieutenant Gennadi Nikolay, the commander of the Morskaya Pekhota Naval Infantry unit.
Nicolay had the unmistakable look of a career officer. He and his men had been cooped up for months in the sub. He was eager to get on with the mission, out into the fresh air. Life in a submarine was far from pleasant. Any time away from the stink of diesel and unwashed bodies was something to cherish. The smell clung to his clothes and left a metallic taste in his mouth.
Morskaya Pekhota was usually referred to as the MPR. The motto of the MPR was "Where we are, there is victory." The words were taken seriously by the members of MPR, with the certain knowledge they could back it up. The world of elite Russian special forces was highly competitive. The MPR could hold their own with anyone.
Ivanov looked at the ship's clock.
"Senior Lieutenant Nikolay, you will disembark thirty minutes from now at 0400 hours."
"Yes, Captain. We are ready."
"You understand that the woman is not to be harmed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Gennadi, you have the conn. Nikolay, come with me to my quarters."
Nicolay followed the captain back to his small cabin. Small as it was, it was an enormous luxury aboard the Sankt Petersberg. Russian submarines, especially the diesel models, were not noted for their creature comforts. That was not their purpose. Their purpose was to seek out and destroy enemies of the Federation, should the day ever come when war was declared. In the meantime, there were endless patrols and exercises. This mission was an exception to the normal course of things.
Inside the cabin, Ivanov took out a bottle of vodka and two glasses.
"Sit down, Nikolay."
He poured and handed a glass to Nikolay, then raised his glass.
"Na'zdrovnya."
The men drank.
"I called you in here because I didn't want the crew to hear what I had to say," Ivanov said.
"Sir."
"This mission can go bad quickly. I'm relying on you to make sure it doesn't. Our president is obsessed with this woman, Antipova. It's true she's a traitor and a defector, but it is foolish to risk my boat to get her back."
"I am told these Americans are an experienced unit."
"That is correct. Do not underestimate them."
"I never underestimate the enemy, sir."
"You must not be discovered while you are on shore. It would be unwelcome in Moscow if your presence becomes known to the Croatians. We must preserve the illusion that we respect their sovereignty."
"I understand, sir."
"When you engage the Americans, leave no survivors. Do your best not to harm the woman."
"That may not be possible, sir. Not if the Americans are armed and there is active resistance.
"They will certainly be armed. Nonetheless, you must try to keep her alive. You understand? It's political. Orlov wants it that way."
"Yes, sir, I understand. With all due respect, Captain, once the shooting starts there's nothing political about it."
"I know, Senior Lieutenant. Just do your best. We will surface to pick you up at 2100 this evening. You have the coordinates."
"Yes, sir."
"You'd better get going."
Nikolay stood and saluted, turned and left the cabin. He'd left the final preparations for debarkation to his senior enlisted man, Glavny Starshina Mikulin. Mikulin would have the team ready.
Nikolay squeezed past a sailor in the narrow passageway and felt the boat rising toward the surface. What was it the Americans said in situations like this? Time for the show?
Something like that.
CHAPTER 31
It was just after 2230 hours when the Ghost dropped a ramp down into shallow water off the coast of Brac Island. The clouds had cleared. The surf shimmered white in the light of a half moon. A chill wind blew steadily off the Adriatic.
The deserted beach stretched away for miles, dark and bleak in the moonlight, broken by the black shapes of rocks sticking up through the sand. The Templar ruin stood silhouetted against the night sky above, dark and grim, looking out over the water from a promontory that sloped down to the beach. The slope was steep, but not so steep it couldn't be climbed.
"Good luck," Commander Jackson said. "We'll be back at 0500. If you miss the rendezvous, we'll repeat in twenty-four hours. Don't be late."
"Copy that," Nick said.
The ramp dropped and they waded through the surf toward the beach. Behind them, they heard the engines wind up as the vessel moved away. Valentina glanced over her shoulder and watched it vanish into the night.
"Welcome to beautiful Croatia," Nick said. "Ronnie, you take the point."
They went up the incline single file, Ronnie in the lead. Nick brought up the rear. After a hard climb, they reached the base of the ancient outpost. The lowest level was set into side of the hill. They continued on to the top.
"Would've been hard to charge up that in armor," Ronnie said.
"More likely they would have been hit from the land side. Either way, it's too small to have a big garrison. I'd guess ten or fifteen men at the most."
"John Wayne would've loved it," Lamont said. "Perfect for a fight to the death with the savage redskins."
"Careful what you say, squid," Ronnie said.
"Better a squid than a jarhead like you."
"What is jar head?" Valentina asked.
"Someone like Ronnie," Lamont said.
"You guys done?" Nick said. "Good, I thought so. Let's find a way in."
The walls of the fortress were made of quarried stone blocks fitted close together. The entrance was blocked with a rusted iron grill, installed years before to keep people out. Two narrow windows barred with metal grills flanked the entry.
"Piece of cake," Ronnie said.
He reached into his pack and took out a packet of C4. He pinched off small amounts of the plastic explosive and placed them at points where the grill was cemented into the older stone, wired them together, and set a detonator. They backed away from the building.
"Fire in the hole," Ronnie said.
He triggered the detonator. The explosion shattered the night silence, knocking the heavy iron grill away from the building. A cloud of gray dust drifted away in the moonlight. Somewhere a bird shrieked in fear or anger, then was quiet.
They turned on flashlights and stepped through the doorway into the thirteenth century.
The interior smelled of the sea. The floor was made of flat stones and was littered with debris. Moonlight poured down through the open roof and shone through narrow slits where archers would have stood if the outpost was attacked. Rectangular openings at regular intervals in the walls showed where beams had once supported a wooden floor on the second story, but
it was long gone.
Lamont looked around the deserted space.
"Place gives me the creeps."
Nick said, "You and Ronnie get ready to blow the floor."
He activated the secure comm link back to Washington.
"Director, do you copy?"
A few seconds later, Elizabeth's voice came back in his ear piece.
"Copy, Nick,"
"We're inside the objective."
"The satellite is moving out of range. We're going to lose communications soon. We have infrared on you now and can see your heat signatures."
"Okay. There's nothing so far. We're going to blow a hole in the floor and see what's down there."
"Roger that."
Ronnie and Lamont laid charges along the floor. Valentina stood near Nick, holding her MP7.
"This would not be a good place to be stationed," she said.
"No, I guess not," Nick said. "For the Templars, it was a long way from home."
"Wasn't this enemy territory for them?"
"Not when this was built. They changed names and kept control of this part of the world for a hundred years after they were betrayed."
"Why here?"
"It was probably a lookout post. We'll never know why they chose this particular spot."
Ronnie came over. "We're ready."
When they were out of the building Ronnie triggered the blast. The sound of the explosion was muffled by the thick walls. They went back inside. Part of the floor had collapsed, revealing a yawning cavern below. Thick clouds of dust swirled around the room. Nick began coughing.
Lamont fixed a length of paracord to the iron grill in one of the windows and dropped it down into the darkness of whatever lay below.
"Who wants to be first?" Nick asked.
CHAPTER 32
Two rafts carrying Senior Lieutenant Nikolay and his eight men scraped gently onto the shore, a hundred yards down from where Nick and the others had landed earlier. The currents had been stronger than expected, but they were close enough.
His men jumped out, elite soldiers used to working as a team. Four fanned out in a defensive perimeter. Four pulled the rafts onto shore. When they were secure, the Russians set off at double time along the beach, weapons at port arms. They reached the foot of the hill below the Templar ruin.
Nikolay and his sergeant knelt and studied the sandy soil.
"I make it four sets of tracks," Nikolay said.
Sergeant Mikulin pointed at one set that was smaller than the others. His voice was quiet as he spoke.
"That will be the woman."
Nikolay nodded agreement. He touched the footprints with his fingers.
"Still damp. It wasn't that long ago when these were made."
"I don't see a boat. How did they get here?"
"It's probably hidden somewhere. It doesn't matter. If they came in a boat, they won't be using it again."
Mikulin looked at the dark shape of the outpost above them.
"They're up there. By now they'll be inside."
"There's nowhere for them to go. They're trapped."
The two men stood. Nikolay started up the hill, the others following behind.
In Washington, Elizabeth, Stephanie, and Selena were looking at the satellite image of the area on a seventy-two inch monitor. The transmission was beginning to degrade as the satellite moved out of range.
"What's that, off to the left?" Selena said.
"Damn," Stephanie said. "Looks like eight, no, nine people."
"Where did they come from?"
"That's a military unit," Elizabeth said. "Look how they move. Disciplined, spaced intervals. They're armed."
She activated her transmitter.
"Nick, do you read?"
Static and crackling came back through the speaker.
"..can't make...out what...ing,"
"Nick. Do you copy? There are nine hostiles approaching. Acknowledge."
"The satellite's moving out of range," Selena said.
"Nick. Do you read? Acknowledge."
The image on the monitor turned into electronic snow.
"Nick, come in."
Stephanie shook her head.
"It's not happening, Elizabeth. We no longer have communication."
Selena looked at the meaningless electronic snow filling the screen and felt a sudden sense of dread.
Elizabeth put her hand on Selena's arm.
"He'll be all right."
"I hate sitting here, knowing I can't do anything to help."
"It's not something you ever get used to," Stephanie said.
I don't want to get used to it, Selena thought.
CHAPTER 33
Valentina followed the others down through the opening in the floor. Their lights cast long shadows around the underground chamber. The room had originally been a large cave. Benches carved out of ancient rock ran along the sides. The walls were natural, slightly curved and rough.
Nick played his light about the room. Chests of wood bound with leather were placed on the benches and about the floor, piled four high in one of the corners. At the other end of the room, a raised tomb stood silent guard over the treasure.
"Jackpot," Lamont said.
Valentina pointed her light past the tomb.
"There is something on the wall."
They crowded close to look at it. A detailed relief had been carved into the stone, showing a man with a flowing cape and a cloth cap. He was wrestling with a huge bull, ready to cut its throat with a knife. A dog was jumping at the bull. A snake curled around its chest. A large bird pecked at a sheaf of grain at the end of the bull's tail. As if all that wasn't enough to torment the bull, a scorpion was stinging the animal's scrotum.
"Whoa," Lamont said. "That's a hell of a rodeo."
"I know what this is," Nick said. "It's a picture of Mithras. The Roman legions used to worship him. This must've been a temple. They held their services underground."
"There were Romans here?" Lamont asked.
"You should study more history, amigo. This whole area was part of the Roman Empire."
"I wonder who's in the tomb?" Ronnie said.
"It doesn't matter," Nick said. "He's dead."
"How did they get all this stuff in here?" Lamont asked.
"Good question," Nick said.
"I also was wondering this," Valentina said.
"This was a cave, right?" Ronnie said. "So where's the entrance?"
"The Templars must have closed it up."
Nick played his light around the room. It came to rest on the far wall behind the tomb. Unlike the rest of the room, this wall was flat, made of fitted stone. The original cave ended where the stonework began, forming the end of the room.
"That has to be it. Okay, let's start opening these chests. We're looking for a gold box, engraved. It will be mixed in with everything else."
"What's in it?" Valentina asked.
"I don't know. Some kind of relic."
They began on the right side of the room. The chests were made of wood, turned hard as iron with the passage of time. But the hinges were made of leather, old and brittle. It was an easy matter to cut through the crumbling leather and work the lid away from the box and its contents.
The first chest was filled with gold coins. So was the second.
Lamont opened a third. It was filled with rough-cut gems that glowed with rainbow colors in the light of his flashlight.
"Holy shit," Lamont said. "This is better than winning the lottery."
Nick said, "Keep looking for that box."
Valentina stopped moving. She looked up and held up her hand.
"Nick. I heard something. Up above."
"Douse the lights," Nick said. "Get back from the opening."
The sudden darkness was absolute except for moonlight shining through the broken roof.
A voice called out in Russian.
"Polkovnik Antipova. My znayem, chto vy tam. Vykhodite seychas, i my ne prichinim vam vreda
."
The each had one of the DARPA earpieces that was supposed to translate languages, but all that came through them was static. They didn't work. Nick pulled the device out of his ear and tossed it away.
"Russian," Valentina whispered.
"What did he say?"
"He called me by name. He said he knew I was down here and told me to come out. He said if I came out I wouldn't be hurt."
"Yeah, right," Lamont said. "Believe that, I've got a bridge I can sell you."
"How the hell did the Russians know we were here?" Ronnie asked.
Nick shrugged. "Doesn't matter. We're not giving her up."
"Antipova. Ya ne budu terpelivym navsegda."
"He's getting impatient," Valentina said.
"Tell him something."
"What should I tell him?"
"Whatever you feel like," Nick said. "It doesn't matter what you say, it won't make any difference."
Valentina shouted up at the opening in the floor.
"Poydite yebat' sebya."
Nick didn't need to understand Russian to know she'd said something to piss off whoever was up there. He heard someone curse. A metal object dropped down from above.
"Grenade," Nick yelled.
He dove for the grenade, grabbed it, and hurled it back up into the room above. It detonated with deafening noise and brilliant light.
"Get back behind that tomb," Nick yelled.
Nearly blinded by the stun grenade that had gone off above, they stumbled back to the raised stone tomb and crouched down behind it.
"Get ready," Nick said. "They'll be coming."
CHAPTER 34
Another stun grenade landed with a metallic clunk on the stone floor of the chamber. They crouched behind the tomb, covered their ears and shut their eyes tight.
The grenade detonated. Nick opened his eyes. Spots of light danced in front of him. Two men dropped down from above. Nick, Ronnie and Lamont opened fire. One Russian died instantly. The second got off part of a magazine before he went down. Bullets whined and ricocheted around the room, striking sparks from the stone walls, chipping pieces from the stone carving of Mithras.
