Black Flagged Redux

by Steven Konkoly

  “Sometimes the strangest things get under your skin, Yuri.”

  “I think walking around here with rifles will tip our hand too soon. If someone is watching us, I think it’s from a safe distance. They know we’re professionals and won’t want to take the gamble. At some point they’ll call this in, and who knows what we’ll be dealing with? A fake roadblock, a small ambush in one of the nameless towns…I think we should keep our ace card hidden for now,” Farrington said.

  “We have another ace up our sleeves,” Petrovich said.

  “Yeah, over three hours away. They’ll get some nice pictures of our dead bodies. Forget the rifles. Let’s get this going and get the fuck out of here. The Russian border isn’t that far away, and I’m not in the mood to entertain company,” Farrington said.

  “Good point. Dusty, why don’t you join our group? I suspect you might have a better idea of what Berg expects to find out here,” Petrovich said.

  “I really don’t, but I have a few worst case scenarios in mind,” he said.

  “So do I, and I really hope I’m wrong.”

  Ten minutes later, after navigating a treacherous, lightly worn path through several large rock clusters, they descended into a small dip between two hills. The dark structure lay twenty meters ahead of them, and Daniel took a moment to study the building with his night vision scope. A large stone chimney stood at one end of the square building and extended several feet above the flat roof. He didn’t see any windows or a door from their slightly elevated position on the trail. He couldn’t see anything through the scope that would keep them from approaching the building, so he gave the signal. They proceeded cautiously and quietly, using flashlights to keep them from twisting an ankle or stumbling across a hidden tripwire.

  The three men arrived at the front corner of the building and split up. Daniel placed his hand on the brick wall and walked toward the back corner of the building, feeling the brick scrape and catch his gloved hands. The wall spanned about fifteen feet. When he turned the corner and saw the back wall, he felt his heart rate spike. A large metal door sat flush on the brick wall, aligned with the chimney, three feet off the ground. Cut firewood sat stacked against the wall on the other side of the metal door, extending from the frozen ground to a point three quarters of the way to the top of the wall. Petrovich noticed that the roof was constructed of the same brick as the sides. He’d seen something like this before, but it had been a bit cruder.

  He stumbled over a few loose pieces of firewood and grasped the oversized metal handle of the door to steady himself. He felt the thick metal door open slightly, and after regaining his footing, he pulled it open. The slightly rusted door creaked open on its hinges, and Daniel directed the beam of his flashlight inside. The metal door spanned two feet by two feet and opened into the immense metal belly of a stove. A thick layer of ash filled the chamber. He shut the door and scanned the nearby area for more ashes. He found two piles measuring three feet high by five feet across. They had burned a lot of wood in a short period of time, he thought. He heard movement near the corner of the building and raised his light, instinctively reaching for the pistol tucked into his heavy coat jacket. He was in full combat mode based on what he had seen so far and wanted to get as far away from this place as possible. His light caught Andrei in the face.

  “You need to see this,” Andrei said, no longer speaking quietly.

  Daniel followed him around to the front of the building. Flashes of bright light filled the entrance, and he couldn’t believe Dusty had walked inside that place. There was no fucking way in hell he would set foot in there. More flashes illuminated Andrei, who stood next to the metal door, flashlight in one hand pointed into the building, pistol in the other. Andrei nodded for him to take a look, and Daniel hesitantly moved toward the opening. He could see that the door was thicker than the stove’s door, with three oversized external slide lock mechanisms and one large handle. Easy to open with oven mitts. He’d seen it done before.

  He poked his head inside and extended his light. Dusty’s flashlight lay on the blackened floor, providing illumination while he placed samples of scant material in plastic bags. The room was completely scorched on all sides and constructed of thicker bricks than the outside wall. Heat resistant, refractory bricks, most likely. Though his sense of smell felt compromised by the painfully cold air, the stench of burnt flesh was apparent. He couldn’t believe life had pushed him into the path of another human crematorium. A blinding flash caught him by surprise and left large images floating on his retinas when he reopened them.

  “Goddamn it, Dusty.”

  “Sorry, I’m in a hurry…I need to get out of here,” Dusty said, rushing toward the opening.

  When the door was shut, Dusty grabbed Petrovich’s shoulder.

  “I have to call our man immediately. There’s only one conclusion to draw here. They’d only need a crematorium if they were testing on human subjects,” Dusty said, wide eyed and clearly shaken by what they had discovered.

  “And they wanted to completely destroy any evidence of the bioweapon. Find out what they discovered in the other building and give him a call. Tell him we’re leaving ASAP. We’ve seen everything we need to see here,” Petrovich said.

  “Right, I’ll…” he stopped and stared at the door again, “I’ll get this going. Jesus Christ this is un-fucking real.”

  “I wish it were. Give me a few minutes down here. I’m going to do a little poking around. I’d like to get an idea of how many people were burned up in Reznikov’s experiment,” Petrovich said.

  “You’re planning on digging up skeletons? The ground is frozen, and we need to get the fuck out of here,” Dusty said.

  “I didn’t say anything about digging. If I can find where they buried the remains, I might be able to estimate…without digging. Just a few minutes. Tell the rest of the crew to get ready to roll when I get back. Go with him, Andrei,” he said and turned toward his flashlight toward a flat area about twenty meters in front of the crematorium.

  Chapter 24

  1:27 PM

  CIA Headquarters

  Langley, Virginia

  Berg’s pager beeped for the second time in the last five minutes, and he waited for the satellite call request window to appear on his computer. He was amazed that the NSA’s system could alert him to a satellite call leaving the Kazakhstan search area before the call itself was connected. Dusty had relayed the preliminary information gathered by the team, which confirmed Berg’s worst fears. Reznikov and his extremist buddies had likely used the site to create some type of bioweapon. He had no hard proof, but the circumstantial evidence was overwhelming. Regardless of what they created, the presence of a large, recently used crematorium meant that they had conducted extensive human experimentation at the site and didn’t want to leave any evidence behind.

  Overall, the site had been thoroughly sanitized of any useful evidence, but the team got lucky. Farrington had found small pieces of frozen brain matter jammed under a long wooden bench in a tiny makeshift prison cell. The victim had been shot while lying on the bench, evidenced by the ammonia washed stain still visible at the head of the bench. The cell had been extensively cleaned, based on the overwhelming chemical smell present in the room, but the perpetrators hadn’t cleaned the bottom of the bench.

  Getting this sample safely into U.S. hands was critical, and he contemplated launching the Predator based on this information alone. He was willing to gamble with the hand he held at this point, but he decided to hold off. Bauer had put her ass on the line arranging the Predator drone, and he didn’t want to send the Predator on a one-way trip unless the team was in immediate danger.

  The pager beeped again, but no call came through on his computer. Dusty had made the first call en route to examine the dead bodies discovered in the satellite photos. He hadn’t expected to hear from Dusty again this quickly, but the kid was jumpy, and he understood why. They had uncovered a major biological weapons conspiracy and strongly suspected
that they were under direct surveillance. This was the other disturbing discovery made by the team.

  The entire complex had been rigged with high-end listening devices, which meant the Russians had found the site and still hadn’t alerted their “allies” in the War on Terror. Muslim extremists had likely been in possession of a bioweapon for over two weeks, and the Kremlin was quiet. Now Reznikov’s hometown could not be approached by road from any direction. None of this boded well, especially if the Russians were more interested in covering up their connection to Reznikov than keeping weaponized viruses off the world market.

  Once Moscow was awake, he’d place a call to an old friend. Rare coincidence had put the two of them back in touch after many years, and if his former adversary remained the same man he had grown to admire during the Cold War, there still might be some hope of preventing a disaster.

  Berg checked his connection to Dusty’s phone and saw that all diagnostics indicated an open channel. As soon as he minimized the window, an alert appeared on his other screen. A satellite transmission had been detected in the vicinity of the laboratory site. He opened the alert warning and saw that the signal carried a Russian Federation encryption protocol. Shit. Now he had a real problem. If the Russians had gone so far as to place land mines to keep this a secret, then he had little doubt they would try to intercept the team. If he put the Predator up now, they would have coverage for some of their trip back to the main highway. The Predator could escort them far enough north toward Astana to make it unlikely for the Russians to attack them in the open. From that point on, the team could handle itself.

  He put on his headset and adjusted the microphone. He clicked on the priority channel to U.S Air Force Special Operations Command (AFSOC), and the computer dialed AFSOC’s operations center. The time on his computer read 2:02 PM. Some unlucky crew in Kyrgyzstan was about to receive an early wake up call. With the bird in the air by 1:30 AM, it could be circling over Sanderson’s team by 5:00 AM at the latest. An Air Force Major answered Berg’s call, and he explained the situation, ready to pass the appropriate encrypted confirmation codes supplied to him by Audra Bauer. These codes would activate a set of protocols that would put an armed U.S. Predator drone over the Republic of Kazakhstan, without that country’s knowledge.

  Karl didn’t envy Bauer’s position in this one, but if their suspicions could be confirmed, Bauer wouldn’t have to worry about answering to anyone. She would likely earn the right to eventually succeed Thomas Manning as the National Clandestine Service’s director…or find herself assigned to an embassy in some remote shithole, if she didn’t serve time in federal prison. No guts, no glory is what he used to tell the agents under his charge. Not that he’d ever say this to Audra. She had more guts than this entire floor combined.

  Chapter 25

  6:03 AM

  Eastern Kazakhstan Province

  Republic of Kazakhstan

  Daniel shifted in the front passenger seat of the Toyota Land Cruiser, struggling to keep his eyes open. The SUV sped down the improvised road toward a small, isolated town along their route to connect with Highway A345. The road was in better condition than they had expected, but the constant presence of potholes and washouts kept the Land Cruiser in a seemingly endless cycle of rapid, unexpected maneuvers.

  Once they hit A345, the brutal jostling would stop, and they should have a comfortable, straight shot to Astana, followed by a flight out of this Godforsaken corner of earth. Daniel shook his head and refocused on the wrinkled map in his lap. His arm brushed up against the AK-74 assault rifle jammed against the door as he fumbled to keep it steady enough to read.

  “We’re coming up on Kaynar. The highway is about ten miles beyond that,” he said.

  Farrington simply nodded in the driver’s seat. They all felt the same about getting to the highway and getting the fuck out of Kazakhstan. Whatever the scientists had created and tested on their subjects in the hills outside of Kurchatov, they had wanted to conceal it badly enough to build a brand new crematorium.

  They filed their report via satellite and sent all of their pictures with the stationary satellite rig, counting the minutes as the megabytes uploaded. More importantly to the five men in the SUV, “Dusty” had sent detailed routing coordinates to the CIA’s operations center, with high hopes that Berg would launch a Predator drone from the U.S. airbase in Manas, Kyrgystan, to cover their withdrawal. They hadn’t run into any trouble so far, but Berg had confirmed that they had been under direct surveillance, and they all expected the worst. At least the Predator had been launched, though they hadn’t received any confirmation that it had arrived.

  Daniel glanced at the surrounding terrain, as the low structures grew in the windshield. The indomitable steppe lands yielded little in terms of visual interest. They passed a few fissures that spread perpendicular to the road, but beyond that, the town of Kaynar was the only thing that attracted his eye. The road fell away to the right, yielding a crude ditch that they had followed since crossing a stone bridge a few minutes ago. These rudimentary improvements provided the only sign that they might be entering an inhabited area. Daniel couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to live here. The Geiger counters had assured his team that their DNA would likely remain unaltered, but none of them could shake the uneasy feeling that nothing could erase the ill effects produced by nearly fifty years of Soviet nuclear testing in the region.

  The sun finally cracked the seemingly endless and featureless eastern horizon, changing the landscape’s grayish blue hue to a dull, grayish brown. Not much of an improvement, he thought and checked his watch. 0510. They had been driving for three hours in the dark, through some of the shittiest roads he had ever experienced. Sunlight was a welcome sight. A tiny reflection of sunlight from Kaynar caught his eye and before he could react, Farrington jammed the steering wheel to the right, spilling everyone to the left side of the cabin.

  The SUV skidded to a halt in the side ditch, throwing everyone against their seatbelts just a fraction of a second before the road ahead of them erupted into a geyser of dirt and rocks. The blast’s concussion rocked the vehicle, but left the SUV undamaged. Daniel opened the passenger door and spilled out into the ditch as earthen debris rained down on them, pelting the SUV’s thin metal roof and hood in an unsteady hollow rhythm. The sharp crack of supersonic bullets immediately followed, adding to the unspoken urgency of their situation. He grabbed a backpack from the vehicle and yelled into the back seat at their CIA liaison.

  “Get your pack and get the fuck out of here!” he said, as the front windshield shattered, followed by the repeated hollow popping sounds of bullets puncturing the steel hull of the Toyota.

  He didn’t need to tell the rest of his team what to do. They had started to bail out of the vehicle before it had come to a complete stop, and he could already hear the distinctive pounding of their Russian assault rifles. Several long bursts, mixed with semiautomatic fire. His team was on autopilot and would require little direction at this point. He glanced toward Kaynar, but couldn’t make an immediate assessment of the situation. The cloud of dust and dirt caused by the explosion on the road still obscured the view between their position and the village, which would give them a few more precious seconds of concealment. His first priority was the satellite phone.

  Dustin Bremer was still in the SUV fumbling with gear when Daniel drew even with his door. He reached inside and grabbed Dusty by his collar, yanking him out of the vehicle. He made sure that the CIA agent kept a grip on the bag that contained their satellite phone.

  “My rifle!” Dusty yelled, trying to reach back into the Land Cruiser.

  “Fuck the rifle, Dusty. Your job is to get the Predator here…we’re fucked without it!” Daniel said, pushing the young CIA agent forward.

  “Suppressive fire! Shift to the other side of the road!” Daniel screamed.

  Farrington lay prone near the crest of the road, firing extended bursts from his AKS-74 at the village 150 meters away. Sergei, Andrei a
nd Leo sprinted across the road, throwing themselves to the ground on the eastern side. Although the eastern side of the road didn’t fall off into a ditch like the western side, it was raised high enough to give them adequate cover from the automatic weapons fire that poured out of the town. The western side of the road was exposed to the majority of the town’s structures, and Daniel could already tell that a majority of the opposing gunfire emanated from the structures and low stone walls on that side of the road. They would have been open to a systematic pulverization if they had instinctively stayed with their SUV.

  He shoved Dusty across the road amidst the snap and crack of a dozen near misses before kneeling next to Farrington.

  “Nice parking job!”

  “I could have parked us on top of that IED!” Farrington replied, quickly changing rifle magazines.

  Daniel immediately saw what Farrington meant. A smoldering crater now covered the left side of the road less than fifteen meters ahead of them, created by an explosive force ten times more powerful than a rocket propelled grenade. By swerving right and taking them below the level of the road, Farrington had shielded the entire vehicle from the fragmentation effects of the Improvised Explosive Device (IED). Farrington continued to impress Petrovich.

  “I’m glad you didn’t. We’re in a bad way here!” Daniel said.

  The road around Farrington and Petrovich started to explode with the impact of bullets and the distinctive crack of near misses filled Daniel’s ears, barely competing with the prolonged bursts of thunderous fire from Farrington’s rifle. A few seconds later, Farrington’s rifle fell silent and one of the assault rifles on the other side of the road picked up the slack. Farrington started to reload again, but Daniel slapped him on the back.

  “Get across, I’ll cover,” he said and dropped to the road next to Farrington, shouldering his own AKS-74 toward the village.