"I don't want this Polish horse piss anymore. Give me some good Russian vodka."
The woman regarded him with half closed eyes. After a moment, she shook her head and offered an apology by way of shrugged shoulders.
She doesn't understand me. Vasily sighed and slowly said, "Russian," as he pointed at the drink.
To help sweeten the deal, he removed his billfold and pulled out a another artistic bank note. Does this work better? He slapped it on the table and put the glass of vodka on top of it before sliding both back toward the waitress.
Her face lit up. She nodded effusively, took the vodka and downed it herself in one gulp before turning the glass over and slapping it on the table. She picked up the bill, slipped it into her ample cleavage, and winked. As she walked away, Vasily couldn't help but appreciate the sway of her hips as she disappeared into the crowd.
He leaned back into his chair and sighed, watching a redhead on the dance floor. She has lovely hair…I wonder what it smells like? Vasily smiled. With the money he had in his billfold, anything was possible.
And tomorrow I will have ten times as much!
The waitress bounded back to the table and produced a new drink with a proud sweep of one arm. She put the glass down before Vasily with a flourish, exposing the top of her pillowy breasts. Vasily smiled at the sight down her shirt. He rubbed his hands and leaned forward in anticipation, taking a sniff of the clear liquid. It smelled right.
He picked it up and examined it as a jeweler might examine a diamond in the light. Out the corner of his eye he watched the waitress. She stood next to the table, hands clasped in front of her with a hopeful expression on her slightly plump face.
Vasily took a healthy swig and let the vodka sting his tongue for a moment. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back into the booth. Ah, this is the good stuff.
“Well done.” He let the unending beat of the music pulse in his chest as the vodka warmed his belly. “I should reward you.” He sat up and smiled as he opened his billfold again and thumbed through the various denominations. He pulled out a 50 pound note and handed it to her. What is it the Americans always say? Go big or go home.
The waitress practically squealed with glee and glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone noticed. She said something to him, but Vasily couldn't understand her–he hardly heard her over the incessant bass. He wondered if sound could bruise a person’s ribs.
Vasily coughed, then glanced at his hand as he pulled it away from his mouth. He noticed tiny flecks of phlegm on his palm. Disgusted, he absently wiped his hand on the tablecloth, happy that the waitress had already disappeared back into the crowd.
He waited through two more songs before his waitress returned with the entire bottle of vodka and flamboyantly placed it on the table. She had a friend with her. The other girl looked shy, but sexy. She was skinny—not anorexic like some runway model, but in a healthy, strong way. Wiry. Vasily looked her over from top to bottom as he moved his head in time with the music. He hated techno, but after a few rounds of vodka, it started to grow on him.
The girl smiled. Her hips were a little narrow, but she looked in good health with ruddy cheeks. If she had a little more weight on her, she’d look perfectly at home on any good Russian farm. Vasily smiled. A farmer's daughter—there’s a thought. I come all the way from Moscow to London to meet a farmer’s daughter in a Russian club.
"I am Zoya," she said in Russian.
Vasily's eyes flew open. He leaned forward. "You're Russian? My name is Vasily.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, fueled by vodka and excitement. He shooed away the first waitress and ignored the hurt look on her face.
“I live in Kursk—where are you from?” He motioned for her to join him in the booth and refilled the glass with vodka. “Here, have a drink—it’s excellent.”
The girl smiled and took the glass, draining it. Vasily smiled and poured her another.
CHAPTER 11
The Swiss Alps.
Chalet Tillcott.
COOPER STARED INTO THE smoke-filled hallway. "Nicely done, Jax." He peered up toward the smoke-wreathed ceiling. "Just don't bring the damn mountain down on us, okay?"
"Everybody's a critic. You wanted a hole, you got one."
Cooper motioned for Jax to head through into the newly discovered tunnel. "Go on—check it out."
"I got a body!" called out Jax from just inside. "Right side, 20 yards."
"Cover me," Cooper said. He stepped over the ragged entrance and into a wall of smoke. A few steps brought him through the worst of it and his HUD displayed a person laying on the ground just ahead. As he approached, he saw a long, filthy coat that might have once been white.
"Sir, can you hear me?" asked Cooper. No response. After a quick glance down the hallway, Cooper took a knee and turned the man over. His face was a shredded mess, the skin around his injuries charred black. The man coughed and shuddered, groping about in the dust and dirt on the floor. His whole body shuddered then and he let loose with an ear-piercing scream.
"Sir! I’m not going to hurt you–"
"My face!" The man moaned in a British accent. Shaking hands delicately touched the edge of his wounds. "I can't see…"
Cooper put his hand on the man's shoulder as he tried to sit up. "It's okay, sir. I'm here to help—can you tell me what happened?"
"Who—who's there? I can't see. My eyes!"
Cooper stared into the melted, charred pits of what used to be the poor bastard's eyes. "You’ve suffered severe trauma to your face, sir. We’re going to get you help. Can you tell me what happened? It's important."
The man lowered his head back to the floor and let out a ragged breath. "Bloody cold…"
Jax rushed past on his way to investigate deeper down the tunnel.
“W-what was that?” stuttered the injured man at Cooper’s feet.
Cooper focused on the wounded man. "Hey, stay with me…"
"Stay with me…that’s what she—she said ‘don't leave’…"
"Who?" demanded Cooper. "Who said that, sir?"
"All dead…"
"Who?”
“Sophie!" the man suddenly screamed, his body rigid.
Cooper sighed in frustration as he broke out his first aid kit. "Who is Sophie?"
The burned man screamed again, feebly clutching at his chest with blackened fingers. "Fire!" he screamed as Cooper applied topical burn cream and did his best to wrap the man's face.
"Tunnel caved in up here, Hoss. There's a gap, looks like a bigger room on the other side—no movement. Hot though. The fire’s somewhere back there," Jax reported.
Cooper stood and glanced at his handiwork. It wasn't pretty, but if the man survived he supposed that wouldn't matter. "Any sign of survivors back there?"
"Negative."
"Caved in…the lab…he'll be mad…" the man groaned. "So cold."
"Who?" hissed Cooper. "Sir, you're going into shock. I need you to stay with me," he said, kneeling again and checked the burned man's pulse. His heart's racing.
"Dunkeith…"
"Actual—we could use a little help up here—they’re getting frisky," warned Switchplate from the surface.
Damn it!
The blind man started coughing and clutching at his chest. "Can't breathe…"
"I can’t get any further—whatever was here is still burning like a—" Jax began.
The walls trembled and Cooper felt the floor shake. Dust filtered out of the ceiling.
"I don't think this place is entirely stable," mumbled Jax.
Cooper looked up from his patient. "Jax, on me!"
“Moving.”
Hands scrabbled at Cooper’s leg. "Take…take this…" said the blind man. His charred fingers dug through one of the outer pockets on his lab coat. The skin on the back of his hand, cracked and bleeding, smeared red on the grimy coat.
Cooper accepted the little box from the man's trembling hands. Relieved of his package, the man flopped onto the floor and let out a lon
g, shuddering breath.
"Sir? What is this?"
"Test results…everything…he said don't let the Americans get it…" The man coughed and tried to laugh, one blackened hand covering his ruined face. “He said not to let the Americans get it…doesn't matter now…" He took a deep, ragged breath and pink foam bubbled around the corners of his lips.
Cooper leaned over him, his helmet light illuminating the man's last moments. "Sir, stay with me!"
The air fizzed from the man's cracked lips and his head turned to the side. The body twitched a few more moments, and Cooper felt the jittery, uneven pulse stutter, then stop.
"Coop, they’re trying to set charges! They—" gunfire interrupted Switchplate's transmission. "Get out of there!"
Cooper took one last look at the now dead man at his feet. "Dammit," he muttered. He ripped the ID badge from the man's charred coat and stuffed it and the little box into his hip pouch.
Jax skidded to a stop next to him. “He died? You should have let me do the first aid man, you suck.”
"What?"
Jax gestured at the body. "You're patient, Hoss. He's dead."
"Later,” Cooper growled. “This tunnel won’t hold much longer."
Another violent tremor nearly knocked them to the ground. Cooper braced himself against the wall and peered through the shifting dust.
“You think?” asked Jax.
“Cooper, what the hell’s going on down there?” asked Charlie. “Feels like an earthquake.”
Jax grabbed Cooper’s shoulder and pointed down the tunnel. "Go! Roof’s coming down!" he yelled.
They sprinted to the main corridor. Another tremor sent them sprawling to the floor as the side tunnel collapsed. "Don't stop!" Cooper got to his feet and shoved Jax forward toward the big double doors that led back into the chalet’s basement guard room. They bolted past the guards’ bodies and moved toward the main stairwell. Charlie stood at the doorway, urging them on.
“I sent Sparky up already. Hurry!” He turned and led the way up the stairs.
Something hit Cooper in the back and knocked him to the floor with a grunt of pain. He felt his legs dangle free over open space—part of the stairwell had collapsed underneath him.
Jax hauled him to his feet, and they struggled up the crumbling stairs. Clouds of smoke and dust rushed up out of the stairwell enveloped and them in blinding nothingness. Jax slowed, but Cooper pushed forward. At the top of the stairs, the world turned orange.
“The whole place is on fire!” warned Charlie, ducking through the door.
Cooper peered through the fire and shapes moving just beyond the flames. "Almost there—keep going!"
Jax grabbed Cooper’s arm and pointed through the fire to their left. "Look—the server room!"
Cooper turned and saw a bullet-riddled door held open by the bodies of Reginald's men. More holes perforated the wall around where Charlie and Sparky had fought back. More guards appeared from the right, pouring in from outside. Incoming rounds buzzed past Cooper’s head like angry hornets.
He ducked, eyes locked on the server room. "I need suppressing fire."
"Go!" replied Jax. He turned and cut loose a stream of lead toward the newcomers. “Charlie, Sparky, help me out!”
Cooper fired blindly toward the guards, unable to see through the flames. He heard the roar of Jax's M60 somewhere behind him, accompanied by Charlie and Sparky.
“Now or never, old man,” shouted Jax.
Cooper dashed across the room during a brief lull in the fight, dropped on his left leg and slid the final few feet to the door. He slammed his body against the lower half of the door to no avail. Cooper dropped to his back, raised his rifle and fired on full auto right at the strike plate. He ended up cutting most of the hardware off the door in the split second he took to pull the trigger. He kicked the door open and rolled through as rounds tore apart the door frame around him.
"Move—they're on your six!" warned Charlie’s voice. “They’re trying to work around the room and get to you.”
Cooper grunted and dropped to the floor staying low to avoid the acrid smoke filling the room. He glanced around and found himself surrounded by dozens of bullet-riddled servers.
Most were scrap metal now. More than one still smoked—but in the gloom he spotted a handful that looked relatively unscathed. He raced forward, not sure what he was looking for, but determined to walk away with something. Cooper ripped out the first rack of undamaged servers he found and removed PCIe blades loaded with solid state hard drives. He dumped as many as he could into his hip pack and ducked as a chunk of the wall flew past his helmet. A sudden blast of heat erupted through the hole the wall and everything around him shimmered.
"Coop! Get out of there! The fire's spreading—we got to get the hell out of Dodge, man!"
"I need ten seconds," grunted Cooper as he pulled out another hard drive and dropped it into his satchel.
"You got five!" said Charlie’s voice over the noise of the gunfight.
Cooper stood and yanked out one last rack. He hoped there was something useful in here worth the risk. He snapped one of the delicate cards as he ripped out the memory banks and tossed them into his bulging satchel. "Moving! Give me some cover!"
"Popping smoke!" called out Jax.
Cooper bolted for the entrance to the server room and spotted a plume of white smoke from Jax's grenade. He dashed across the room, surprised how fast the fire had spread. Most of the room was now engulfed in flames and if it weren't for the material built into his HAHO suit, Cooper doubted he would've survived even crossing the burning room.
He raised an arm against the glare of the heat and realized the room was littered with bodies. His HUD showed all the SEALs were still alive and moving, so he followed Jax to the closest wall. "We need a door!" he shouted over the chaos.
Jax lit the charge under the wall. "Ahead of you, old man. No time to shape it—fire in the hole!"
A chunk of plaster erupted just above Jax’s head. "Do it!" barked Cooper.
The charge detonated, the shockwave blowing a hole in the wall large enough for them to squeeze through. Cooper covered Jax's exit with a burst of fire into the inferno on the other side of the room. Somewhere through there, Reginald's men continued to fight, albeit blindly.
"Clear!" called Jax from outside.
"Charlie, Sparky—go!" ordered Cooper as he fired another burst into the fire. The last of his team rushed past him to dive through the hole in the wall.
“Team two, heading to the jump off point!” announced Switchplate.
"Frag out!" Cooper tossed a grenade into the fire and fell through the exit hole, landing on his back next to Jax in the snow.
They brought their rifles up and held steady on the opening, watching the smoke billow out of the hole. More shots rang out from inside the building and holes appeared in the wall to the left and right. The guards had aimed up not down. The grenade cooked off and sparks shot out the exit hole, sizzling as they impacted the snow.
One…two…get up and move…go..six…move, move, move! Cooper forced the pain in his right knee to the background. He rolled left, got to his knees, and grabbed Jax. "Let's go!"
"Actual, where the hell are you? We can't hold these guys back any longer!" called Switchplate.
"Striker 2-1, Actual, Ghost Rider. You got a large group of hostiles moving up the south face of that mountain. Suggest you hightail it out of there."
Cooper instinctively glanced up at the black sky, as if he could see the tiny shape of the drone that circled above. "What I wouldn't give to have Puff the Magic Dragon up there instead of that little tin can," he muttered. "Charlie, get 'em moving."
"Fall back to the north face, let's go!" said Charlie, already a dozen yards ahead of Cooper, fighting a running battle toward their escape.
Cooper switched frequencies to contact the drone pilot. “Roger that, Ghost Rider, thanks for the heads-up.”
"Team two, falling back," announced Switchplate. "Overw
atch, move!"
"Already on my way," replied Juice.
Muzzle flashes lit up the night all around them as Cooper glanced at the pillar of smoke and fire stabbing up into the night sky from the top of the chalet. Hungry flames engulfed the entire structure.
Puffs of snow erupted like little geysers around his feet as he ran. His heads-up display showed at least 15 of Reginald's men approaching from the south, east, and west.
Cooper dove around the corner of a large, snow-covered rock and took shelter with the rest of his fireteam. "Everybody good to go?"
"Maughan took a round in the shoulder, and Juice got one in the leg, but we're mostly okay," reported Charlie.
Cooper glanced over the rock at the advancing enemy troops. "All teams, Actual. Check your chutes and prep for EVAC.”
"Roger that," replied Switchplate over a burst of automatic weapons fire.
Enemy reinforcements crested the south face of the clearing and worked their way toward the burning chalet. Small knots of them fanned out, flashlights stabbing into the snow-filled night.
"Coop, we got about 30 seconds before shit gets bad," observed Jax.
"Before it's bad? What the hell you call this?" asked Maughan.
"This?" Jax laughed. "This is just a warm-up, Rook."
"You two can grab-ass later!" snarled Cooper. “Team two, go—we'll cover you.”
"Hooyah," called out Switchplate.
"Suppressing fire!" ordered Cooper. His team leaned around the rock and laid down a withering hail of fire on the approaching enemy. It was just enough for Switchplate's team to race to the edge of the mountain and launch themselves into the darkness. In less than two seconds, half the SEALs had vanished over the edge of the abyss.
"We're away! Deploying chutes!" said Switchplate's strained, static-filled voice.
"That's our cue, ladies! Go, go, go!" called out Cooper.
Cooper raced to the edge, watching on his display to make sure Charlie did likewise. The edge of the mountain raced up to meet him. Everything below was white—everything above, pure black. Puffs of snow exploded around his churning feet and Cooper felt excruciating pain flare in his right leg.
Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga Page 6
