Eastern Shadows: Alex Thorne Book One (Alex Thorne Action Spy Adventures 1)

by C. J. Somersby

  “Yes indeed, Lieutenant,” the deep voice replied, and Nikolai stepped out from behind the building. He was flanked by three guards, each holding rifles that were aimed directly at Maxwell and Alex. “Drop your weapons,” he said.

  Maxwell bristled, but placed the rifle on the ground without argument. Alex turned back to Pete and gave him a hard stare. “You're not Pete Gavel, are you?” she asked.

  He grinned in reply. “Pete Gavel died in prison. I was given plastic surgery and sent to spy on the British.” He bowed his head. “Pavel Fyodor, at your service,” he said with mock grandeur. Then he held out his hand. “Give me the gun,” he ordered.

  Alex gritted her teeth, torn between shooting him and avoiding being shot herself. She chose the latter. “I'll get you for this,” she said, as Nikolai and the guards advanced on them.

  Pavel grinned. “Take your best shot,” he replied.

  PART FIVE

  Redemption

  Chapter 13

  It was daylight outside when the beatings finally stopped.

  Alex and Maxwell had been unceremoniously marched back into the prison building and locked in another dingy, foul-smelling room. Thinking that this was the extent of their punishment, they lost no time in beginning to search the room and plan an escape. Those plans were thrown into disarray when another group of soldiers arrived, carrying a pair of chairs and two lengths of rope. After a brief scuffle, both prisoners were forced to sit and were tied into position. Then the soldiers began to lay into both of them with fists and boots, not bothering to ask any questions.

  When they finally stopped, it was from a barked order by Nikolai. He stepped into the room and passed through the group of soldiers, who were sweating and breathing hard from the exertion of their attacks. Nikolai crouched down in front of Alex and reached out with one hand to cradle her chin. “I really am sorry, myshka,” he said quietly, his eyes filled with sorrow. “But you left me with no choice.”

  Alex managed to raise her head a few inches. Her face was purple with bruises and her ribs felt like broken glass. She squinted at Nikolai with an expression of utter hatred. “You're a murderer,” she hissed. “You killed my parents, and now you're going to finish the job with me.”

  Nikolai's eyes flashed with some emotion, but before Alex could work out what it was, it had disappeared. His expression hardened and he stood up, walking across to Maxwell. The American was doing his best to sit upright in the chair, despite the obvious pain on his face. He glared at Nikolai as he approached. “Got something I can help you with, Russkie?” he croaked.

  Nikolai looked down at him for a long, hard moment. “We need you to confess to a video camera that you are spies for the British,” he said.

  Maxwell managed a weak smirk. “Hate to disappoint you, buddy,” he replied. “I'm not saying a word.” He leaned forward as far as he could in the chair and fixed Nikolai with a stare. “So you might as well crawl back under the rock you came out from and shove your head up your-”

  The gunshot rang out, and Maxwell never finished his sentence. Nikolai had unholstered his pistol with the speed of a practiced marksman, bringing the barrel up only inches from Maxwell's chest before pulling the trigger. The American jerked back with the impact, a look of surprise on his face. Then he slumped against the back of the chair and went limp, struggling to breathe. He managed to look over at Alex and began to form a sentence with his lips. “Kill...them...all,” he managed. Then the last breath rattled from his lungs and his eyes glazed over, the life leaving his body for good.

  Nikolai looked down at the corpse for several moments, his eyes showing no signs of emotion. Then he turned and walked back across to Alex. He raised the pistol again, pointing it directly at Alex's chest. “You will confess to the camera,” he said. “You will tell them who you work for and why you are here.” His eyes flickered with momentary sadness. “Or I will kill you right now.”

  Alex stared at the barrel of the gun. Her heart was racing with adrenaline and panic, the last moments of Maxwell's life etched into her eyes, but she managed to keep a calm expression as her mind whirred. Dying here would serve no purpose. The longer she was alive, the more likely she was going to find a way out of here. She made a point of sighing and dropping her head a few inches, as if she was accepting defeat. “Alright,” she said. “I'll do it.”

  Chapter 14

  Under heavy armed guard, Alex was marched across the compound to the farmhouse itself. The large living room at the front of the house had been cleared of furnishings and decoration, being replaced by a number of spartan desks covered in maps and communication equipment. This must be more than just a prison, Alex thought as she stepped through the door. With this amount of technology, the farm must also serve as a local command post for the area.

  “That way,” one of the guards said in barely intelligible English. He pointed to one side of the room that had been cleared for the film equipment. The wall had been adorned with the flag of the rebel Belorussian forces, and in front of it sat a single wooden stool. A large video camera pointed directly at the scene, flanked by two photography lights and a microphone boom that hung above the set. Alex walked across the room with as much poise as she could muster. The bruising on her face had been hastily covered with some success by a nervous-looking makeup artist that had evidently been press-ganged from the local population. Her ribs still ached like fire, and it took genuine effort to keep a straight face. She would not give the soldiers around her the satisfaction of seeing pain.

  “Are we ready?” a deep voice asked, and Nikolai stepped through the door. He barely glanced at Alex before addressing the camera crew that were making finishing touches to the equipment.

  “Da – I mean, yes sir.” the camera man replied, switching quickly between Russian and English.

  Nikolai stood by the camera and smiled, looking over at Alex. “I ask them to speak in English so there is no misunderstanding on what you have to do here,” he explained.

  Alex hoisted herself onto the stool with only the faintest grunt of pain. “So considerate of you,” she replied. “Let's get this over with.”

  The camera man stepped forward and pointed to a small television screen attached to the side of the camera and pointed at Alex. “This is a TelePrompter,” he explained. “You read what is on the screen when camera is switched on.”

  Alex gritted her teeth, her eyes flickering around the room. There were at least half a dozen guards in the room, split roughly between watching her and working at the desks. Her ribs complained with every movement; she was not incapacitated, but she had nowhere near the strength for a lengthy fist fight. It would take a major blessing of fortune to be able to get her out of this one.

  Then she glanced harder at one of the soldiers and caught her breath. Maybe, just maybe...

  “Ten seconds,” the camera man replied. He flicked the power switch on the camera and a small red light on the side flickered on. “Five seconds,” he then called.

  “You're doing the right thing, myshka,” Nikolai said in a gentle tone. He clasped his hands together in front of him and fell silent as the counter ticked down.

  “Three,” called the camera man. “Two, one, go.”

  Then all hell broke loose.

  Something massive exploded outside the farmhouse, shattering the windows of the room with a terrific crash of sound. The soldiers ducked in alarm, and Nikolai spun around on his heel in surprise. Chaotic shouting in Russian and Belorussian echoed around the room as soldiers grabbed for their weapons and the camera crew ducked behind the nearest solid objects.

  That was when Dmitri leapt into action.

  The Belorussian was disguised in the ill-matching camouflage of the rebel militiamen that surrounded him. Where and how he had got the uniform, Alex could only hazard a gruesome guess. Now he spun on his heel and cracked the nearest soldier over the head with the butt of the rifle he held, sending the surprised man to the ground. Nikolai then brough
t the weapon to aim at a pair of soldiers who were slow to react in the confusion. The gun kicked and roared several times, pumping bullets into the two targets and sending them to the ground in pools of blood.

  Three down, three to go, Alex thought.

  She leapt off the stool as fast as she could manage, her ribs screaming with the exertion. The nearest soldier was just turning to take aim at Dmitri. Alex grabbed the stool from behind her and swung it seat first at the soldier's head. It made contact with a heavy sound and he dropped to the floor with a cry of pain. Another soldier was advancing on her, bringing his rifle up to fire at point blank range. Alex stepped forward into his advance, closing the gap instead of running and taking the soldier by surprise. She swung her left hand across her body, pushing the barrel of the rifle away just as it began to fire.

  The roar of the weapon echoed in her ears, but she ignored it as she swung her right fist up and punched the soldier in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening crack of cartilage. Then she brought her striking hand back and punched out again on the other side of the weapon, whilst keeping the barrel deflected over her shoulder. She grabbed the stock of the rifle from the surprised soldier's grip, twisting the weapon out of his control before slamming the stock into his face. Then she stepped back, shouldered the rifle and squeezed the trigger. Several rounds of punishing lead ripped forth into the soldier's body as he was cut down by his own weapon.

  The exertion of the fight was now taking its toll and Alex felt her body screaming in protest beyond the adrenaline. Her ribs felt like splinters and she doubled over in an audible yelp of pain. She barely registered the last soldier charging at her until Dmitri put three rounds into his side and dropped him like a pile of bricks. The room seemed deafeningly silent after the rifle fire and Alex felt her ears ringing. She felt a presence next to her and began to summon up the last of her energy to protect herself, but Dmitri's face appeared in her peripheral vision. “Can you move?” he asked, his normally neutral voice tinged with urgency.

  Alex nodded. “Just don't ask me to run a marathon,” she said through gritted teeth. With a jolt of realization, she glanced around the room for Nikolai, realizing that he had not been part of the attack. The Russian had disappeared. She felt Dmitri's hands under her arm as the Belorussian helped her stand upright, one arm looped under her shoulders to assist in walking. “I thought you'd betrayed us,” she admitted as they began to stumble together across the room.

  Dmitri's eyes flickered with some brief emotion, and for a moment Alex thought she saw a look of indignation. “These people try to take over my country for Russia,” he said, his eyes scanning ahead for any new threats. “Belarus may be friendly to Moscow, but I don't want us to be controlled by them.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “When I saw the soldiers waiting in ambush at the compound, there was no time to warn you, so I improvised.”

  Alex smiled despite the pain. “Good improvisation,” she replied, glancing back at the room of dead soldiers.

  Dmitri did something unusual; he smiled, albeit only for a moment. “I managed to grab some explosives from the rebel armory,” he said. “The burning fuel tanks should provide a distraction for us to work.” He paused as they reached the farmhouse door and peered out into the courtyard beyond. There was very little movement; most of the soldiers had left their positions and appeared to be at the far end of the compound dealing with the fuel fire. Dmitri shook his head in scorn. “Amateurs,” he muttered.

  “We need to get the prisoner,” Alex reminded him, her eyes also scanning the courtyard and charting the best hidden route between the piles of equipment that dotted the ground.

  “I checked the records of the guard post that kindly donated this uniform,” Dmitri said, a hint of dark humor in his tone. “He is being held in isolation in that small building over there.” He nodded to an out-building alongside the main prison block. “I imagine his guards are probably still professional enough to be in place,” he added with a thoughtful frown.

  “I won't be of much help then,” Alex replied with a grimace, glancing down at her injuries. “Can you break him out yourself?”

  Dmitri glanced at her, and Alex returned the look. She saw a gleam in his eyes that cut through his normally distant stare; he was enjoying this, Alex realized. “Not a problem,” he replied. “Can you find transport?”

  Alex glanced out across the courtyard. She saw a supply truck sitting by a mound of crates, apparently unguarded. She grinned. “Not a problem,” she echoed. “See you in ten minutes.”

  Dmitri nodded and leapt out from the doorway at a run, his rifle swinging in one hand as he dodged between various piles of equipment as cover against anyone who may spot him. Alex took a deep breath and started forward herself, moving as fast as she was able. Her body complained with every heavy step but she pushed the pain to the back of her mind with the practiced experience of a combat operator. There would be plenty of time to rest once she was back home; the alternative was resting in peace.

  She made it to the truck without being spotted, darting between crates of supplies to cover her approach in the same way as Dmitri had done. She crept along the side of the truck and climbed cautiously up the side of the cab. It was empty. Alex tried the door and it swung open. She climbed inside, lay her rifle on the passenger seat and searched for the ignition keys, swearing to herself when they were nowhere to be seen. She lent under the dashboard and ripped open one of the wiring panels, proceeding to work at the electronics in order to hot wire the vehicle.

  “I'm impressed, myshka,” Nikolai's voice spoke out of thin air. Alex jumped, almost hitting her head on the underside of the dashboard as she scrambled back upright in the seat and grabbed for her rifle. The Russian was nowhere to be seen, and after a moment she realized that the voice was coming from the truck's military radio. Nikolai's voice crackled with distortion from the speakers as he continued. “You've done your parents proud in managing to get this far,” he said. “But I'm afraid this is the end of the line for you.”

  Alex grabbed the radio microphone from its cradle and keyed the transmitter switch with her thumb. “I'll find you, Nikolai,” she said through teeth gritted in anger and pain. “I'll find you and make you pay.”

  Nikolai's voice sounded sad. “My sweet myshka,” he replied, and Alex could imagine him shaking his head. “There's an artillery strike inbound to this position. You've only got a few minutes left.”

  There was a roar of noise and Alex looked up through the windshield. A large helicopter was climbing into the sky from behind the farmhouse, its ugly bull nose and stubby wings bristling with guns and missiles. Alex recognized it as a Russian-made Hind gunship, a massive and very mean weapon of war. From the passenger compartment door, she saw Nikolai. He was standing with one hand gripping an overhead support rail and the other hand holding a radio microphone to his mouth. He looked right at her as the helicopter began to turn. “Farewell Alexandria,” he said, before adding, “And I'm truly sorry.” Then the helicopter was tilting towards the horizon and moving away across the compound with the deafening chop of propeller blades.

  Alex went back to work on the truck, feverishly attacking the wiring to the ignition system. After what seemed like an eternity, the truck shuddered into life with a throaty growl. Alex threw the vehicle into gear and put her foot on the gas. The truck lurched forward, and Alex swung the steering wheel around until the truck was pointing at the prison building that Dmitri had indicated was holding the target of their rescue. She pulled up outside the building entrance just as the Belorussian appeared at the front door, his arm around the waist of a disheveled-looking man that was barely conscious. James Peterson, Alex presumed. Dmitri was walking backwards, firing his rifle from the hip to deter some unseen pursuer. He wrenched open the passenger door and pushed the dazed escapee inside, who proceeded to immediately pass out on the seat. “Get out of here!” Dmitri shouted, turning to fire back into the building.

 
“We can't leave you behind!” Alex shouted over the roar of Dmitri's rifle. “There's a hundred tons of artillery inbound to wipe this place off the map.”

  Dmitri was about to reply when a shout of alarm made both of them turn their heads. Several soldiers were running back across the base from the diversionary fire to investigate the commotion. Dmitri glanced up at Alex, and to her astonishment he actually grinned. “I guess I needed to make a bigger explosion,” he said, turning to point his rifle at the oncoming soldiers. He fired several rounds in their direction and sent them diving for cover, but many more soldiers were now running towards them.

  “You'll never get out if you don't have cover,” Dmitri shouted, firing off careful shots to conserve ammunition. One of the soldiers spun to the ground as Dmitri's shot caught him in the shoulder. Another was hit square in the face and fell backwards as if he had hit a brick wall. “Get out of here!” Dmitri shouted again.

  Alex looked at Dmitri for a split-second longer, but to her it seemed like a year. “Thank-you,” she said. She lent over and pulled the passenger door closed, before turning back to the steering wheel and stomping on the gas.

  The truck lurched forward towards the entrance barrier, the sluggish acceleration making Alex grit her teeth. Every passing moment brought the artillery fire closer. She glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Dmitri crouched in a firing position behind a pile of crates. He was expertly picking off the soldiers as they approached, but every felled enemy was replaced by two more. He would soon be overrun.

  Alex glanced back to the windscreen just in time to see a soldier running out of the small hut next to the barrier. He had evidently had the discipline to maintain his position when all hell had broken loose. He raised his weapon towards the oncoming truck and let rip. Alex dived sideways, pulling her unconscious passenger down with her. Bullets smashed into the windshield, pelting both of them with glass. The truck kept going, and Alex lifted her head just enough to see the nose of the cab plow through the barrier and snap it clean from its hinges, the soldier diving for safety at the last moment. She swung the wheel around and pushed the engine for all its worth, desperately trying to put as much distance between herself and the incoming shells.