by Leslie Wolfe
There wasn’t a single sound coming from inside the hangar. Outside, swamp toads had resumed their concert, briefly interrupted by his arrival. Feeling comfortable with the silence, the man switched on a small LED flashlight, and allowed his eyes to become accustomed to the light.
There it was…the massive jet stood there, completely dark and immobile. The man walked around its huge landing gear, looking for the best location to place the explosives. With minimum effort, he climbed on top of one of the wheels, then inside the landing gear compartment.
He then opened the backpack he was carrying, and placed the C4 charges carefully on one of the gear struts, securing it in place with duct tape. Then he placed the timer and detonation pins, inserting the pins slowly, carefully, into the putty-like explosive.
Then he checked his watch and set the timer, allowing enough time for the cleanup team to arrive, to pick up the debris, and take it out to sea.
At that point, he switched the timer on, and watched for a few seconds how the timer counted down in red LED digits, glowing in the darkness of the landing-gear compartment.
Satisfied, he hopped off the wheel, exited the hangar, and disappeared into the night, unseen and unheard.
...45
...Monday, May 9, 7:48AM PDT (UTC-7:00 hours)
...San Diego International Airport
...San Diego, California
...Twelve Days Missing
Alex listened to the Phenom’s engines revving with a pleasant sound that seemed surreal under the circumstances. Everything looked so peaceful, so perfect, and yet, at their destination, somewhere halfway around the globe, things were bound to be drastically different.
Blake’s pilot, an old acquaintance of hers, was wrapping up his preflight, getting ready to taxi. Alex took a deep breath of crisp morning air, and climbed the five steps to board the elegant aircraft. Yep, this is it…better have it together, girl, she encouraged herself.
She’d packed her small duffel bag in a hurry, taking the bare necessities: spare socks, a sweat suit, a couple of Ts, and her toothbrush. Normally, she wouldn’t have gone anywhere without her makeup kit and hair spray, but this time she doubted any of that stuff would make a difference out there, in the depths of hostile Russia.
“Here you are,” Lou said. “Let me give you your stuff.”
He handed everyone SatSleeves.
“What are these?” Blake asked.
“This device fits on your cell phone and turns it into a satellite phone. No matter where you are, it just works. It will come in handy, believe me. Give one to your pilot,” he said, handing Blake an extra SatSleeve.
“Dylan?” Blake called.
The pilot came into the cabin.
“Alex, Sam, Lou, meet Dylan Bishop. He’s been my pilot for seven years, I think, right?”
The men shook hands. Alex simply said, “Hey, Dylan,” then added for the rest of them, “We’ve met before. He hauled me out of India one time…I owe him a big one.”
“Ah, yes, that’s right, me too!” Sam added and shook Dylan’s hand again. “Thanks for doing this; we appreciate it.”
“All right, let’s focus,” Lou said, as Dylan resumed his role in prepping the jet for takeoff. “Radios. We have encrypted, long-range radios equipped with ear buds and laryngophones, which you wear like this,” he demonstrated, putting on a collar that held a throat microphone. “These radios integrate with our cell phones. When you receive a call, you have the option to patch the call into our radio environment, and allow everyone with an encrypted receiver to hear or participate in the communication.”
“Wow,” Alex said, “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“For a lot of money, you can do anything,” Lou replied, smiling. “Weapons.”
He opened a large, khaki-colored duffel bag filled with guns, and started handing them out. “I have Tavor automatic weapons for everyone, handguns, and tactical knives. I brought tactical vests, night-vision goggles, handheld GPS, the encrypted radios I was telling you about, and survival kits that will hold us up to 72 hours.”
“What’s this other stuff?” Alex asked, seeing how there was a lot more hardware left in the duffel bag.
“Just some grenades, an AK47 for Sam, in case he misses the old days, and a CornerShot that will fit your handgun. I’ve brought some ammo too.”
“Wow…I’ve heard of these, but never used one. How does it work?” Alex took the CornerShot from Lou, examining it closely.
“It’s the best accessory to have in urban combat,” Lou said. “You attach your handgun to it like this,” he demonstrated with Alex’s Walther, after removing all its ammo, “Then you aim through this pop-out LCD screen, giving you visibility around the corner without any exposure to the enemy. When ready, you pull the trigger, also from a covered position.”
“I see you have a preference for Israeli weapons,” Sam commented.
“There’s a valid reason for that, you know,” Lou replied. “Take these, for example. The Tavor is compact, precise, low-recoil, configurable, the perfect choice for our mission.”
Sam took the Tavor from Lou’s hand and checked it out thoroughly.
“I’ll pass on the AK47, thank you very much,” he added, holding the Tavor.
“Lou, you mentioned urban combat, yet we’re flying in the middle of nowhere, a forested swamp,” Blake intervened. “How come?”
“These weapons will do nicely in open terrain, but we also have to be ready to storm that airbase, or whatever facility they are using to hold the passengers. Most likely, close-quarters weapons and tactics would be valuable there,” Lou explained.
Blake nodded, frowning a little. He looked worried, but resolute.
“All right,” Lou spoke louder, getting everyone to listen. “Everyone, please pay attention. We have a long flight ahead of us, and some new guns to get used to. I have personally checked each gun, and made sure they’re unloaded; I will check them again. Please get to know them during this flight. Become familiar with how they feel, how they handle. Simulate loading and unloading until you’re lightning fast; I will provide empty clips for practice, simulate targeting, and firing your weapon. Don’t load your weapons until we’re on final approach at our destination; let’s try not to put holes in this plane, if possible. When we’re close to landing, I will hand you your ammo clips and everything else you need. We good?”
“We are solid,” Alex replied, feeling tension in her shoulders, as the perspective of going to battle became more and more real.
“Golden,” Sam replied.
Through the open door of the cockpit, they heard Dylan call San Diego ATC.
“Good morning, San Diego Tower, this is flight November Sierra 1413 ready for takeoff, runway 2-7.”
“November Sierra 1413, winds two six zero at fifteen, cleared for takeoff.”
They buckled up quietly as the plane started to pick up speed, immersed in their thoughts.
...46
...Tuesday, May 10, 11:52AM Local Time (UTC+10:00 hours)
...Undisclosed Location
...Russia
...Thirteen Days Missing
“We can’t do this anymore, we just can’t,” Dr. Adenauer said, unable to hide the pain in his voice. “Not anymore. I won’t stand for it.”
“Please don’t say that, think about my family,” Wu Shen Teng pleaded, tears flooding his eyes.
“I am thinking about your family,” Dr. Adenauer replied. “How would you like them to die, like that?” he thundered, pointing at the monitors that had been switched off the day before, right after the test had ended with the loss of an innocent man’s life.
“Theo,” Marie-Elise said, “don’t say that. Maybe there’s hope.”
“You’re a fool, Adenauer,” Gary Davis said. “What do you think will happen?”
Dr. Teng stood there, paralyzed, tears streaking his cheeks as he stared at the dark monitors.
Bogdanov entered the lab and slammed the huge door behind him.
“Are you ready to run the aerosolized test? The same formulation should be good.”
They fidgeted uncomfortably, and a deathly silence engulfed the lab.
“No, we are not,” Adenauer spoke calmly. “We will not be proceeding with the tests anymore.” He cleared his voice, drew a deep breath, and then continued, “I stand behind my decision with my life.”
Bogdanov stared at Adenauer, who didn’t flinch. Then he turned and said something in Russian to King Cobra. Cobra left.
Now that he’d said it, Adenauer felt better, calmer. Man can only die once, he thought. He remembered something he’d once heard someone say. “Life is wondrous, death is peaceful, it’s the transition that’s troublesome.” He wasn’t sure those were the exact words, and he couldn’t remember for sure who’d said it; maybe it was Isaac Asimov? In any case, for some reason, his mind found solace in those words at that moment. He was ready to die. He couldn’t bear to be responsible for another human being’s demise.
Cobra came back, dragging with him a middle-aged woman, her upper arm held tightly in his grasp, yanking her at every step as he walked. She sobbed loudly, pleading with him in what sounded like Swedish, but Cobra didn’t care. He threw the woman on her knees in front of Bogdanov. She curled up in a ball, hugging her knees, and sobbing hard.
“So, you are willing to stand by your decision with your life, yes?” Bogdanov asked calmly.
Adenauer felt his gut churn with fear. Oh, no! Please, God, no!
“Are you willing to stand by your decision with her life too?” Bogdanov asked.
Before he could answer, Bogdanov drew his sidearm and shot the woman in the head. Her sobs instantly quieted, as she fell to the floor with a thump. Blood began draining from her wound, pooling at Adenauer’s feet. He took a step back, staring in disbelief, his jaw dropped, feeling his ice-cold blood draining from his head.
“That was your last warning,” Bogdanov said. “You have 24 hours.”
...47
...Tuesday, May 10, 2:47PM Local Time (UTC+10:00 hours)
...Khabarovsk Airport
...Russia
...Thirteen Days Missing
Alex watched the vast expanse of forested Russian territory draw closer, as the Phenom started its descent.
“All right, guys, this is it,” Lou said. “We’ll touch down in a few minutes. We all know what to do. Lock ’em, load ’em, and get ready.”
The Phenom landed smoothly on a poorly maintained runway, then taxied slowly to the end of the terminal.
As soon as the plane slowed down, they all snapped out of their seat belts and closed the window blinds on both sides.
“I’ll go get us a hangar somewhere,” Blake said, grabbing a wad of cash from the duffel bag. “US dollars still work here?”
“Better than ever,” Sam replied, grabbing a fistful of hundred-dollar bills for himself and shoving them in his pocket. “I’ll go get us a car; we’re some 45 miles away from the hangar coordinates. We need transpo.”
“How on earth are you gonna get a car?” Blake asked. “This place doesn’t look like it has Enterprise.”
“Ah…the old spy way,” Sam winked, then opened the aircraft door and hopped off in a couple of steps. Blake followed.
“Let’s gear up,” Lou said. “Start with the vest first, just like I showed you.”
“Yes, boss,” she replied, unable to contain a tension-loaded smile.
She strapped her tactical vest on. It was black, rigid, and had a lot of pockets, making her look bulky. She felt her abdomen through the harsh fabric, then traced her waistline and her hips, barely noticeable under the tactical vest. She groaned.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Lou said humorously. “Really?”
“Hey, a girl’s gotta be careful about how she looks, all right?” she replied. “G.I. Jane wasn’t exactly sexy, you know.” A nervous chuckle showed her real state of mind.
“No, but she was effective, deadly. And so are you. You’ll do fine,” Lou added, softening his voice. “Trust me.”
“Yeah,” she replied, still tense.
Oh, boy…Her first real gunfight, behind enemy lines no less. Yet it was more than just pre-battle jitters that kept her on her toes and put tension in her heart. She just wanted to know if she’d been right. Would they find the missing plane? Would they find Adeline and the passengers? Most of all, would she find V? Would she be proven wrong about V’s involvement in this? Or right? She had no evidence, no real reason to suspect a connection, but she believed there was one. She believed that with all her heart. She just had to find it, then she’d learn V’s identity and finally nail the brilliant, evil son of a bitch.
She checked her Walther’s ammo clip before putting it back in its holster. Then she strapped the tactical knife’s holster to her thigh, and loaded her pockets with the gear Lou was handing her, verifying each item as she took possession of it.
Radio equipment with ear buds and laryngophone, twenty-five-mile range, connected with the cellphone, encrypted, checked, turned on.
Handheld GPS, on.
Sat phone, working, full battery, on.
Battery life extender, full.
Three ammo clips for the Walther PPK.
Night-vision goggles, battery full, turned off.
Three ammo clips for the Tavor, going in her cargo pants side pockets.
Two small grenades.
One smoke pop.
A first-aid kit.
A food ration.
“Lou, I can barely move!” she whined, taking a few steps, trying to see how everything felt as she paced the aircraft’s narrow aisle.
“Get used to it,” he replied dryly, as he finished loading his gear. “You’ll need all this stuff.”
Blake hopped back on the plane, then instructed his pilot where to go.
“We got us hangar space, discreet and off the record,” Blake said proudly. “They think I’m here to see my mistress, and I have to keep my visit a secret.”
“Hey, whatever works, my man,” Lou replied, extending a high five to Blake. “Gear up!”
Alex noticed Blake spoke with the same nervous chuckle in his voice that she had. They were all nervous, all looking forward to see what they would find. Excited, yet afraid at the same time. Would they find the plane where DigiWorld had said? How about the people, how would they find them? How about Adeline, was she still alive? She didn’t even stop for a minute to worry about her own safety, or what would happen if the Russians captured them; that concern didn’t even register with her. However, they all felt the tension, the anticipation anxiety, and the excitement, what Lou called the pre-battle high.
The aircraft resumed a slow-speed taxi and soon entered a small, decrepit hangar, lit poorly by a single, yellowish light bulb hanging from the rusted ceiling.
A few minutes later, the sound of a car engine got their attention. Sam hopped out of a dirty, dark brown SUV, bearing an unknown logo, and pointed cheerfully at the vehicle.
“Ta-da! How do you like it? It’s a Vaz, the best I could do under the circumstances. Let’s get going,” he said.
Alex stopped at the top of the aircraft’s steps to take a deep breath. Hot, humid air, buzzing with tiny insects and mosquitoes. The slight smell of jet exhaust and a more pervasive smell of bog water. So this is Russia, she thought, hopping down two steps at a time and climbing in the front passenger seat of the SUV.
Sam climbed aboard the Phenom and reappeared within two minutes, wearing all his tactical gear. He took the driver’s seat and started the engine. Blake seemed at ease, handling his weapon comfortably, as if he did nothing else all day long. Lou was the last to join them, carrying a small duffel bag that he put in the trunk of the Vaz.
“Some more ammo, explosives, and other stuff,” he explained, seeing the inquisitive look Alex threw his way.
“Coordinates set,” Sam said, grinding the gears a little when shifting the manual transmission. “We should get there in less than an hour.
”
They drove silently for a while; there was little left to say. Alex watched the forested landscape, finding she somewhat enjoyed the drive. If the circumstances were different, I would probably even like it, she thought—curving, single-lane road stretching for miles in the thick, lush forest, small lakes here and there, sunny, warm, and peaceful atmosphere. How deceiving appearances can be…If we’re right about this, 441 people are going through hell somewhere in the middle of this beautiful, deceivingly serene forest.
“All right, guys, this is where we leave the car and start walking,” Sam said.
“How long?” Alex asked.
“About three miles that way,” he replied, pointing in a direction perpendicular to the road.
“Through the swamp?” Alex protested. “Are you sure?”
“He’s sure,” Lou confirmed. “This is what the GPS is telling us. Keep in mind an airbase would be hidden, not really a freeway stop, you know.”
“I get it, but it would still have a road that leads to it, right?”
“And this one has a road too, only it doesn’t start from here. Trust me, walking is our best shot. We should be there within the hour. By foot, no one will hear us coming. We’re assuming the place is guarded.”
“OK, I got it,” she said. “Get the car out of sight. We shouldn’t raise suspicions.”
Sam smiled. “Sure. Told ya’, you’re a natural.”
They walked with difficulty, their boots sinking in the mud every few steps. They trailed single file, Lou leading the pack, and Alex found she was grateful for the Army boots Lou had provided.
Suddenly, Lou stopped, lifting his right arm with his fist clenched, military code for “stop.” They froze in their tracks and waited, listening and looking around them. Then Lou pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then pointed them in the direction of what looked like a grassy hill or mound.
Yes, that was it! It looked just like the satellite images they’d seen on the DigiWorld screens, a metallic structure buried in the side of a hill. The structure was large, at least 250 feet wide by at least 100 feet tall, and had huge doors, big enough to allow a 747 to enter the structure. An old road, overtaken by weeds growing out of every one of its cracks and potholes led to its door, extended in the opposite direction as far as they could see. If they followed that road, they’d probably find an airstrip at the end of it somewhere. She checked her GPS and confirmed her theory. There was an airstrip at the end of that road, a 2.5-mile long airstrip. A little short for a 747 landing…a short, tight, maybe even rough, yet doable landing.
