They made it just in time. Over the whine of the truck's strained engine, Alex heard a higher-pitched cacophony of sound, as if the sky itself was falling. She glanced in the truck's side mirrors just as the first rounds began to land on the farm. Huge explosions plumed up from the impact of the shells, tearing into the buildings and sending wood, stone and human alike flying into the air. More rounds began to fall, pummeling the entire complex like a boot stamping on an ant hill. Alex averted her eyes from the sight, trying to push the images of flying bodies to the back of her mind. She shifted gear and gritted her teeth, staring out across the Belorussian countryside as she swung the truck around towards the main road.
They were clear of the artillery, Alex realized, but they weren't clear of danger.
PART SIX
Devil's Chariot
Chapter 15
It was almost an hour before James regained consciousness.
He awoke with a start that descended into a coughing fit. He looked around dazedly, trying to take stock of his surroundings. He saw Alex sitting in the driver's seat, a grim determination on her face. “Where am I?” he asked, his voice rasping and strained.
“Safe,” Alex replied, her eyes still on the road ahead. They had not run into any problems so far, but impromptu rebel checkpoints dotted all the roadways between here and safety. She kept her eye on the numerous dirt tracks that led off from the road, preparing to swerve into the forests that flanked them on either side if there were any signs of trouble ahead. She took a moment to glance at James. “How do you feel?” she asked.
James reached up and rubbed his head, trying to soothe the pain behind his eyes. “Like I've just gone three rounds with a hammer-wielding maniac,” he replied. “Is there any water?”
Alex reached over with one hand and pulled open the glove compartment on the truck's dashboard, where a canteen of water was stored that she had discovered earlier. James grabbed it and twisted off the cap, swigging it down greedily. “Where are we?” he asked after taking his fill, his voice a little stronger after the nourishment.
“About an hour from the Latvian border,” Alex replied. Her body ached from head to toe due to her injuries, but she forced herself to ignore the pain and concentrate on the road ahead. “We're going to have to hope that we can talk our way across when we get there.”
James sat up straight in the chair and looked out at the road ahead of them. The sun was beginning to break on the horizon behind them, casting a bloody glow across the skyline. “You were sent to rescue me?” he asked.
Alex nodded. “That's right,” she said. She gritted her teeth as the faces of Maxwell and Dmitri flashed across her eyes. “I hope you're worth the trouble,” she added.
James rubbed his head. “You've saved us a lot of embarrassment,” he replied. “I'm sure you'll be rewarded greatly.”
Alex frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked.
James looked up at her. “You don't know why I'm here?” he asked.
“I wasn't in the loop,” Alex replied, feeling the anger in her chest rising. “But apparently you're valuable enough to send two people to their deaths.”
James looked at her for a long moment. “I'm sorry,” he said.
“Yeah,” Alex replied, her tone bitter. “So am I.”
Chapter 16
They were rounding a bend in the road when the helicopter swung into view.
It roared past the truck with a deafening chop of propeller blades, flying barely meters above the tree line. Alex swore and swung the wheel, swerving the truck off the road and into the woods as the helicopter began to swing around again. “Hold on!” she shouted to James as they bounced across the uneven ground and into the cover of the tree canopy. The truck scraped and slid around several large trees before they came to an area too heavily wooded to continue through. Alex slammed on the brakes and the truck slewed to a halt in the dirt.
“What's going-” began James, but he was cut off by Alex kicking open the driver's door and dragging him out of the cab with her. The thunder of helicopter blades was suddenly deafening, and a shadow crossed over the tree canopy like a stalking monster. Alex pushed James up against one of the trees and grabbed him by the neck with one hand, tightening her grip just enough to indicate that she meant business. “Did they give you anything whilst you were there?” she said urgently. “Any clothing or other items?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” James spluttered, his voice tight with fear.
“We're being tracked, you fool,” Alex hissed. Keeping him pressed up against the tree with one hand, she began to pat at his clothing with the other in search of anything unusual. A solid lump in the lining of his jacket made Alex grimace, and as she explored the area further she found a hole in the material. A small, cylindrical device was hidden within the lining, a small red light blinking at one end. Alex dropped it to the ground and stamped with a heavy boot, crunching the device underfoot into a broken mass of parts. Then she looked back up at James, anger coursing through her veins. “I am sick of this 'need to know' bull,” she snarled. “I've got a helicopter armed to the teeth buzzing around my head, so I need to know.” She leaned in closer. “You've got five seconds to tell me why they're after you before I leave you here to die.”
James tried to reply, but his voice was barely intelligible. Alex loosened her grip and let him take a lungful of air. “Data files,” he said through loud inhalations. He swallowed with obvious pain. “I was supposed to deliver data files to a Russian military officer stationed in eastern Belarus.”
“Data about what?” Alex asked. Above her, she heard the helicopter begin to draw closer again. It had slowed, and was obviously searching the forest below for their location. “Tell me!” Alex shouted, squeezing James' neck again.
“I don't know,” James shouted back. He took a breath and then continued at normal volume. “I was only told where and to whom to deliver the files.”
“Who?” Alex demanded. “Who is getting the files?”
James opened his mouth to answer. The helicopter's machine guns opened up.
Alex heard the roar of the weapon and the chatter of bullets slamming into the ground around her. With no time to plan, she grabbed James and threw herself backwards towards the truck, bringing the man down on top of her just as the bullets began to slam into the tree by which they had been standing. A hot, red substance splattered across her face and for a moment Alex could not see. The helicopter roared overhead again, the bullets raking the area with the sound of a thousand angry hornets.
Alex blinked her eyesight clear and stared up at what remained of James' head. A bullet had caught him in the scalp just as they had begun to move. She pushed away the dead weight of the corpse with audible exertion, her injured ribs complaining with every movement. She turned over and crawled towards the truck, hoping to find protection under the vehicle's heavy body whilst she thought of a way out of this hell.
“Myshka,” Nikolai's voice boomed from overhead, and Alex froze. The helicopter was slowly moving back in her direction, the Russian's voice booming out across the tree canopy. The accompanying static made Alex realize that the voice was coming from a loudspeaker; it was Nikolai's helicopter that was chasing her. “There's no escape, myshka,” Nikolai said again, his voice firm but gentle as if talking to a grandchild. “Come out now and I will arrange to have you transferred back to the West as part of a prisoner exchange.”
Alex kept herself tight to the ground under the truck, thinking hard. Nikolai knew her approximate location due to the tracking device that they had planted on James, but the forest canopy obscured a direct line of sight. She still had a chance, she realized. With a grunt of pain at her aching muscles, she began to crawl along the underneath of the truck towards the rear axle.
“Myshka, please,” Nikolai's voice boomed again. Through the static, Alex could discern a note of pleading. “You are outgunned and without an escape plan. I love you like a daughter; I
do not want to kill you. Please don't make me.”
Alex crawled out from the underneath the rear of the truck and stood, pushing herself tight against the vehicle to prevent being seen between the branches above. The helicopter was slowly moving closer, the noise of its rotors swinging from left to right as it zig-zagged towards her location. They were searching, she realized. They did not expect her to still be anywhere near the truck. She turned and climbed up the tailgate, praying that she would find something useful inside the cargo bed.
She saw the long, rectangular box and smiled.
Chapter 17
High above, Nikolai watched the trees and sighed. He lowered the microphone in one hand and lent back in the cockpit seat, his brow furrowed in concentration. The pilot glanced at him from the adjacent chair, awaiting orders on what to do next. Nikolai ignored him, staring out at the forest as if he could summon the ability to see through solid objects. He grimaced, his mouth twisting underneath his mustache. He had not wanted it to go like this, he reflected. He had not wanted to harm Alex. But he had his orders.
He was turning to order the pilot to fire when something caught his eye at the edge of the tree line. The foliage burst apart and the truck appeared in plain sight, tearing across the fields at a desperate pace. Nikolai shook his head sadly. “Bad move, myshka,” he said to himself softly. “You were trained better than that.” Then he nodded to the pilot. “Open fire,” he ordered in Russian.
The pilot swung the Hind gunship around and dipped the nose, arcing down towards the racing truck like an eagle swooping on a lamb. He squeezed the joystick trigger and the Hind's cannons lit up, shaking the frame of the helicopter as they poured hundreds of rounds at the fleeing vehicle. The bullets raked the truck from nose to tail, punching through the bodywork and tearing apart the canopy that covered the truck bed. The truck's axle buckled with the shock of the impacts and the vehicle lost control, careening to the left and slamming into a small outcrop of trees with a sickening impact that crumpled the engine block. The impact tore one of the cab doors from its hinges and sent it spiraling across the ground like a playing card dropped from a table. As the helicopter got closer, Nikolai could see a figure slumped over the steering wheel. “Lower,” he ordered to the pilot, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.
The Hind descended further, hovering as close to the trees as possible. The helicopter was now so close to the ground that the grass was being flattened by the downdraft of the rotors, and the trees themselves leaned away in protest at the intrusion. The pilot swung the nose of the Hind so that it was facing onto the side of the truck, allowing a better look at its occupant through the cab doorway that had been torn open. Nikolai lent forward and pulled a pair of binoculars from a pouch in the side of his seat, training them on the figure inside the truck.
James' corpse lolled in the driver's seat. He had been thrown against the steering wheel like a rag doll. Below his crumpled legs, a green ammunition box was wedged into the area around the gas pedal.
Nikolai swore and swung around in his seat, craning his neck. He spotted a figure standing at the edge of the forest with a tube-shaped device resting on their shoulder. “Climb!” he roared at the pilot, but the missile warning alarms were already flashing on the helicopter's control panel.
It was too late.
Chapter 18
Alex watched the missile slam into the helicopter, the thundering explosion ringing in her ears. The missile sheared off the entire tail section of the Hind, and the helicopter swung around drunkenly with flames spilling from its rear quarters like a firework. The Hind hit the field sideways with another massive noise, chewing up the ground with the still-spinning rotors before the engine finally quit and brought a deafening silence to the scene.
Alex dropped the spent missile launcher to the ground and walked slowly towards the crash site. The smoke of the wreckage wafted around her, mingling with clouds of dust that had been thrown up by the impact. Pieces of the helicopter were spread several meters around the main body of the aircraft, charred and twisted from the missile's explosive payload. The cockpit and passenger area of the Hind had survived mostly intact, although flames licked hungrily at the torn rear section. Alex's eyes flickered to the cockpit and she paused in mid-step. There was only one body inside the cockpit, slumped over the pilot's controls. The glass canopy on the passenger's side had been smashed, and the seat was empty. Alex turned and scanned the field.
Nikolai had managed to drag himself several meters away from the crash site before he had run out of energy. He lay on his side, his uniform torn and charred, his hat missing. As Alex stepped closer, she saw a dark stain spreading across the front of his jacket, turning the green material black. One of his legs was twisted at an unnatural angle. He looked up at Alex and coughed up blood before he could speak. “Well played, myshka,” he croaked, a small grin spreading across his face. “Well played.”
Alex knelt down next to the Russian and reached out with one hand, cradling the side of his face. She felt tears welling behind her eyes and blinked them back furiously. “Why, Uncle Nikolai?” she whispered. “Why all this? Why kill so many of your own men with artillery? You were never one of those uncaring officers.” She glanced over at the truck, her eyes fixing on James' corpse in the driver's seat. “What data could he have been carrying that could possibly be worth all of this?” she asked.
Nikolai coughed again, more blood running from his mouth. “Oh myshka,” he said, his voice softer and filled with pity. “You do not not see the wood for the trees.” He sighed, and his eyes became distant. “How I long for the old days of the Cold War,” he whispered. “Things were so certain back then. You knew who your enemies were.”
Alex shook Nikolai gently. “What data was he carrying?” she asked again, her tone more urgent. The old Russian did not have much time left.
Nikolai's eyes refocused on Alex. “Identities,” he said, his voice tired. He was slipping away by the moment. “The truth on who really runs things,” he added. Then his eyes lit up again and he lent forward, a sudden burst of urgent energy obvious in his movements. “I did not kill your parents, Alex,” he said, his voice sharp and desperate. “You have to believe me.”
Alex grimaced. “Then who did, Nikolai?” she asked. “Who?”
“Your-” began Nikolai, and then began to cough again. His body shuddered with the spasms of the coughs as he fought for breath. “Your...brother,” he managed, before collapsing onto his back, the life draining from his eyes.
“Nikolai!” shouted Alex, shaking the Russian by the shoulders. It was too late. Nikolai was dead. Alex looked down at the man who had been practically family for most of her young life. She shook her head, a single tear running down her face. “I don't have a brother,” she whispered.
PART SEVEN
Enemies of the Future
Chapter 19
The car pulled up outside the hospital entrance and Edward stepped out into the afternoon sun. The hospital was a private military institution, tucked away in a quiet area of the city far from the daily bustle of activity that comprised Riga's commercial district. From the outside it looked like a large, foreboding office building, a throwback to the Stalinist architecture of Latvia's past. Edward had a hat in one hand that he now settled on his head as he walked up the grandiose stairs to the main entrance. He flashed his identity card to the soldier at the entrance and was ushered through to the air-conditioned entrance hall. Despite its dated exterior, the inside was high-tech, sterile and gleaming; everything you would expect from a high-cost institution. Doctors and nurses rushed about with charts and papers, whilst soldiers milled at regular intervals to keep prying onlookers away from vital areas.
The grey-eyed Major Petrov was waiting for Edward in the entrance hall. He stood up and saluted, which Edward returned with a half-hearted effort. “Where is she?” Edward asked.
Petrov indicated down one of the corridors. “High security wing,” he repli
ed. “She regained consciousness a few minutes ago, I am told.”
Edward turned and started down the corridor to which Petrov had pointed. The Latvian officer fell into step next to him. “And she just turned up at the border?” he asked.
Petrov nodded. “Carrying the corpse of James Peterson on her back,” he replied. He shook his head with bewilderment. “She managed to walk right up to the checkpoint door and knock on it without being seen, despite dragging a dead man with her,” he said.
Edward smiled. “I only hire the best,” he said with a hint of pride, although Petrov was fairly certain it was directed at his own mastery of employee selection. They passed through another doorway guarded by soldiers and stopped outside a room that Petrov indicated. Edward twisted the door handle and stepped inside, leaving Petrov in the corridor.
The room was quiet and clean, the only noises being the hum of medical machinery. Alex lay in the hospital bed, her eyes half-closed. A television in the corner of the room was playing a low-budget action film, the volume muted. Alex stirred as the door opened and she turned her head to the entrance. Her eyes fell on Edward and she gave a half-smile. “Not exactly the male entertainment for which I was hoping,” she remarked, her voice croaking with tiredness.
Edward raised an eyebrow. “It's nice to see your eloquent wit was uninjured,” he remarked, removing his hat and walking across to the bedside. “They're treating you well?” he asked.
Eastern Shadows: Alex Thorne Book One (Alex Thorne Action Spy Adventures 1) Page 6
