by John Ringo
“Roger, Kildar,” Sawn said. “Will do.”
“That is a lot of money,” Creata said, pulling out one of the stacks of euros. “A lot of money.”
“And the DVDs?” Mike asked, keeping an eye on the corridor.
“Here,” Creata said, pulling out two audio storage boxes and lifting the lid on one. “In crystal cases, yes?” she asked.
“Check them,” Mike said. “Vanner, what’s the status on that Allouette?”
* * *
“Glad to see you!” Anton shouted over the rotor wash.
“You may not be,” the pilot shouted back. “I know I’m not happy! See the machine guns?”
“Yes?” Gena shouted.
“They are to be used, yes?” the pilot said and then grinned. “As the Americans say, we are going Downtown.”
* * *
“There is firing in town,” Yevgenii Andrushkin said, looking over at Dmitri Balboshin. “And I cannot raise Yarok on his cell phone.”
Yevgenii and Dmitri had been assigned to the same Spetznaz team, straight out of training, Yevgenii as a brand new lieutenant and Dmitri as an equally shiny senior private. And both had left the teams at about the same time, after an offer they couldn’t resist from the Russian mafia. Since then, Yevgenii had risen on the paramilitary side of the mob, becoming a senior recruiter and leader of professionals in “wet work” while Dmitri had handled his personal security.
Yevgenii had reluctantly acceded to his former commander’s request to form a large force for the Albanian mob. The Albanians and the Russians often clashed, but if there was a new anticriminal special operations team running around, Yevgenii felt it in everyone’s interest to crush it as soon as possible.
That assumed that they could even get to the force before it completed its current raid. Yarok had said “soon” but not this soon.
“I could give a rat’s ass about Yarok,” Dmitri said, propping his SMG into a more comfortable position and fingering one of the frag grenades on his ammo vest. “We’d better get paid, though.”
“We will be,” Yevgenii said. “As long as we are not too late. Driver, hurry!”
“Yes, Mr. Kutkin,” the Albanian driver said, nervously. “But this road is very twisty—”
“I don’t care!” Yevgenii shouted, just as there was a crack from the roadside.
The small Keldara team had not had much time and they had only recently been through demolitions school. But the total of what they knew about dropping trees hadn’t been discovered yet.
The explosion sequence was started by three grenades, their pins loosened and attached to wires spread across the road at waist height. As the first bus hit the wires, the pins were pulled and each of the grenades detonated.
Under the grenades, the trees that they were rigger-taped to had a triple wrap of detcord with two small charges of Semtek wrapped in with it. The detcord detonated sympathetically from the grenades, detonating the Semtek in turn, and the base of the trees shot away from the road, bringing their crowns down like rockets.
But that wasn’t enough for the busy Keldara. They had run more detcord from the primary trees to others along the roadway, along with stringing claymores on their trunks.
Before the first bus had even crashed into the obstacles suddenly dropped in its path, more trees were dropping into the road for over fifty meters, along with a hail of ballbearings that turned the buses into so many bleeding collanders.
* * *
“Oh, that was very cool,” Gena said. The helicopter had pulled up high enough that he could see the entire road and they had added some flares so the scene was fully lit. The buses carrying the “reaction force” were twisted across the road every which way and three were on fire. Only the rear two buses appeared unscathed.
“Sawn, this is Anton,” the fire team leader said. “The reaction force is… not having a good night. They will be late to the party.”
“Good,” Sawn said. “One good piece of news. How long to the town?”
“Perhaps three minutes,” Anton said, cocking the door-mounted MG-240. “I take it you have more work for us.”
“Yes,” Sawn said. “Hurry.”
* * *
Oleg had been hit two more times, but had only been able to pull back half the block. He knew he was bleeding too much, but he could barely take time to cram bandages on the wounds.
“Juris, you there?” Oleg called weakly.
“Above you, brother,” the sniper replied.
“There are fighters on the roof over you,” Oleg said. “Pull out.”
“You don’t have any cover, brother,” the sniper pointed out. “I’ll stay.”
“Go,” Oleg said. “Go now. That is an order.”
“Going,” Juris said after a moment. “But I thought I’d shoot the fellow about to drop a grenade on you.”
“Thank you,” Oleg said, stroking the trigger. He was almost out of ammo for the 240 and Sveryan, who had picked up the spares, had already been pulled back with a sucking chest wound. What was that song that the Kildar sang?
“And in the fury of this darkest hour, we shall be your light,” Oleg said, tracking a moving figure on the rooftop opposite and stroking the trigger. The machine gun spat out three rounds and then went silent. “You’ve asked me for my sacrifice, and I am Winter Born…”
* * *
“Oleg,” Juris whispered. “Get up.”
“Get out,” Oleg replied. “Go.”
“Not without you, brother,” the sniper replied, targeting a figure on the far rooftop. The man seemed to stumble and then fell into the street but the single shot, even with the silenced sniper rifle, had attracted a hail of fire from all along the street. “Time to crawl.”
“Bit hard to do,” Oleg said, choking. “But, yes, we crawl…”
As they tried to leave the shelter of the stairs, though, rounds cracked all around them.
“Or not,” Juris sighed. “Perhaps we stay here, yes?”
“I told you,” Oleg replied, laughing redly. “You should listen to your brother.”
“I would much prefer to be in the house, yes?” Juris said, leaning against the wall and trying to search for targets. “Having some of Mother Lenka’s brew.”
“I would rather be in bed with Lydia,” Oleg said. “If you make it, tell the Kildar…”
“We will both make it, brother,” Juris said, knowing he was lying. “But I will tell the Kildar…”
He paused as a body dropped from the window above, spinning to fire and then checking.
“You see!” the girl behind him said. “I told you it was Juris and Oleg! Here,” she added, tossing him three boxes of ammunition for the MG-240. “Get to work, Juris. You always were lazy!”
“Elena,” Oleg said, blinking his eyes in surprise. “Catrina? Is it really you?”
“I wondered how long it was going to take for you to find us,” Elena said, making a moue. “I didn’t expect it to be this long.” She reached down and yanked off her stilletto heels, rubbing her feet. “I’m so glad to get those off!”
“We’re not here for you,” Juris said, slipping the ammo into the machine gun and opening fire. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, especially bringing ammo!”
“Oleg, Juris,” Sawn said. “You there?”
“Here, Sawn,” Juris replied. “We could use some cover fire.”
“You’re about to get it,” Sawn said. “Get down.”
“Tell whoever is firing to be careful,” Oleg said, reaching up and pulling his sister in close as his eyes watered from more than pain. “We found Elena and Catrina.”
“Found us, hell!” Catrina said, hugging Juris triumphantly. “We had to find you!”
* * *
The Alloutte slid to a halt at the intersection of Dutris and Turla, behind the assaulting Albanians. As soon as the helicopter slowed, Anton and Gena opened fire.
The two MG-240s were firing down, suppressing or engaging everyone along the street as the All
ouette slowly tracked back and forth. They started with the rooftops, firing from above and behind the attackers that had made their way up there, then started on those on the street.
The Albanians, caught in a crossfire from behind and above, didn’t have many choices. Mostly, they died. Some ran into the buildings, a few managed to retreat under the helicopter, but they weren’t much better off there. Efim and Vitaly, the other two members of the blocking team, had found a case of fragmentation grenades. Anyone headed for the helicopter found frags dropping on them from great height. Due to the timing of the frags and the distance to the ground, most went off before they hit. This didn’t do the retreating pimps and guards much good, though, since that just meant the frags spread around better.
As the fighters near the helicopter were suppressed, the pilot slid the helicopter sideways down the road, letting the machine gunners and grenadiers engage more targets. However, it started taking fire from hidden riflemen in the windows of the houses along the street and backed off.
“Sawn, this is Anton” the team leader called. “What’s the status?”
“Pull off,” Sawn called. “All personnel recovered. We’re beginning extraction. Come to the other end of Dutris and cover us as we leave.”
“Got it,” the pilot called, pivoting the bird up and around. “Will do.”
“Anybody got any idea how we’re doing?” Antoniya asked.
What was that line the Kildar used?
“Don’t count your cards while they’re sitting on the table,” Sawn growled. “Just shag your ass.”
Chapter Forty-Five
“So, you are MI-6?” Katya asked, confused, as the agent began uncuffing her.
“Yes,” Calthrop said, grinning. “Lord Arnold thought you might like some backup.”
“I never suspected,” Katya admitted, rubbing her wrist and ankle as the cuffs came off.
“I had extensive amateur thespian experience at Oxford,” Calthrop said, walking over to Natalya and cutting the rope around her neck. “I must say that my Sancho Panza was well regarded by the Oxford Gazette. I have a clipping around here somewhere…” he added, patting his pockets.
“I think we talk about it later,” Katya said, wincing as she got to her feet. “There are things going on in town…” she continued just as a series of distant thumps carried over the night air.
“Ah, yes, your raid by the Keldara, what?” Calthrop asked. “And, of course, there are the two cars that appear to be coming up the hill.”
“Oh, shit,” Katya said. “Vanner, Vanner, can you hear me?”
“It’s Lydia, yes,” Lydia replied in her ear.
“We’re okay, for now,” Katya said. “But there are cars.”
“The one in the lead is Mikhail,” Lydia said. “The other is reported but who it is is unknown. A Land Rover. Definitely following you and probably hostile.”
“It would have been nice to know that before now!” Katya snapped.
“You seemed a bit busy,” Lydia said with a hint of humor in her voice. “The bulk of the force is engaged in the town or on other operations. Kildar says that you need to run, or fight, your choice, but hold on for a few more minutes until we can get some support to you.”
“Understood,” Katya said, looking around. “I think… run.”
“I take it you’re using that special thingy in your head,” Calthrop said. “What do they say?”
“The lead car is a friend,” Katya said, frowning. “The trail car is a Land Rover, probably hostile. The Keldara can’t get free for a few minutes. So we’re on our own.”
“Then I agree,” Calthrop said, holding out his hand and helping her to her feet. “We run.”
* * *
“Mikhail.”
“Go Lydia,” the Keldara said, steering through a hard turn.
“Get ready to take a right.”
“Is that the way to Katya?” Mikhail asked, confused. “I saw their lights above us.”
“It will be.”
* * *
“The other car is turning,” Chito said, looking over at Bezhmel.
“Yes, but the Mercedes is up there,” Yarok replied, pointing up the hill. “This road takes us up there. Keep going.”
* * *
“Okay, the Tango One is still headed up the hill,” Captain O’Keefe said, over the sat phone. “Sierra Two is headed down the side road.”
“Got that,” Lydia said, picking up the microphone. “Katya…”
* * *
“…Turn right at the next intersection,” Katya said, pointing.
“That’s sending us back towards town,” Calthrop said, braking to make the turn.
The big Mercedes was solid and a comfortable ride, but it was really lacking in acceleration and turning; the soft shocks made it turn extremely wide. He could already see flashes of light from the following Rover.
“We’re meeting a friend.”
* * *
Mikhail pulled the Lada backwards into the road and then bailed out, running across the small distance to the stopped Mercedes and tumbling into the back seat.
“Nice of you to join us, Mikhail,” Katya said dryly. “Great security. I had to depend on the British for protection.”
“I was doing my best,” Mikhail said, jacking a round into the SPR. “But I was driving a Lada. What did you expect?”
“So was I, lad,” Calthrop replied in Georgian. “Of course, I had a bit of a lead on you. Speaking of leads, we’re losing ours with the Rover. Nice of you to park your car in the road, but I don’t think that’s going to stop them.”
“Slow them down a bit, I hope,” Mikhail said, shrugging and looking out the back window. “If not, well, we will die well.”
“The only way to do that is late,” Katya replied.
* * *
“Who the fuck would park a car…” Chito said, swerving the Rover around the parked Lada. He’d barely spotted it in time and had a seriously hard time keeping the SUV in control as it hit the verge of the road. But he managed after a moment.
“Someone trying to slow us down,” Bezhmel replied.
How many in the car was the question. The American was dead; he’d seen the body as they drove past. He could take the credit on that one. All he had to do was take out the hooker, Natalya. Then he would be sixty thousand euros richer. But there was more than just the hooker in the car. At least one, probably more.
However, he had three fighters in the back of the SUV, himself and Chito. That should be enough to take out whatever was facing them.
* * *
“Hang on,” Calthrop said, braking hard as he saw a switchback ahead.
The diplomat/assassin had taken the girls far up into the hills over the town but the current road was headed downward again. And the narrow, barely paved, road was descending in a series of nasty switchbacks that the big Mercedes dearly hated.
The outer tires dug gravel on the outside shoulder of the road, causing a burst of adrenaline through his system that hit like a hammer.
“That was too close,” Katya said disapprovingly.
“Yes,” Calthrop said through thinning lips. “But so are they.”
* * *
“There,” Bezhmel shouted, pointing to a narrow trail.
The switchbacks were not the only way down the mountain. At various points, local shepherds had driven their flocks straight down, generally just short of the switchbacks. Where the sheep and goats could go, a Rover could follow.
Chito hit the brakes and turned hard to the left, the front tires briefly leaving the ground and then thumping down.
The ride was bumpy, tossing the three gunners in the back around to shouted complaints. But the Rover debouched onto the road ahead of the speeding Mercedes as Chito braked it, narrowly, to a stop short of the far side of the road.
* * *
“Oh… shiiit,” Calthrop shouted, slamming on the brakes and turning hard to the right.
As the Mercedes fishtailed across the
road, Mikhail grasped a handhold and lowered the window on his side. As soon as it had more or less stopped he pointed his SPR out the window and opened fire.
* * *
“Fuck!” Bezhmel shouted as rounds began cracking into the SUV. “Out!” he continued, ducking and pushing on the driver so the idiot would bail out on the far side.
However, the duck had been fortuitous since it permitted the 5.56 round meant for his head to instead strike the driver in the right temple.
Chito’s head snapped to the left as blood filled the interior of the vehicle and his body slumped in the same direction, tangled in the steering wheel and effectively blocking the door.
“Fuck!” Bezhmel shouted again, pushing at the body and trying to get to the door latch. “What are you fuckers in the back waiting for? SHOOT!”
* * *
“Out!” Calthrop yelled, bailing out on his side. He was somewhat surprised to feel the sharp strike of high heels in his back as Katya made her own time out of the targeted vehicle. Rounds were cracking through the air, and the car, before he could even get to his knees. But, in the meantime, the hooker had pulled Natalya from the back of the car and was already headed away into the darkness.
“Where are you going?”
“I am saving my life,” Katya said, not looking back. “And hers, the primary, yes? You are going to help by killing as many of them as you can before you die.”
“Oh, that is so bloody…” Calthrop said, rolling behind a wheel for cover as AK rounds began thumping into and through the car. The two girls, however, were already fading into the darkness. “Whorish.”
