Exodus: V Plague Book 13

by Dirk Patton

  “What else will we need?” I asked.

  “As long as there’s no physical damage and the cockpit is intact, that’ll do it,” Vance said. “Won’t know until I can get aboard and check.”

  “Alright,” I said. “Let’s go, Dog.”

  I walked down the ramp, Dog at my side. Anna looked at me and nodded at Nicole who was standing a few feet away. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed. She appeared to be listening to something. Before I could say anything, Dog emitted a loud growl. I looked at him then snapped my rifle up to point in the direction he was facing.

  “Stay sharp,” I transmitted on the radio. “We have infected in the area, most likely to the south.”

  I scanned the direction but didn’t see anything other than hangars and the ground equipment normally found at civilian airports. Dog continued to growl as I searched for the threat.

  “Nothing,” Nitro said over the radio a minute later. “What’d you see?”

  “Not me,” I answered. “Dog. He’s got their scent. Break. Johnson, you guys get your asses back down here.”

  “Already down,” he replied immediately.

  “There’re a lot of females,” Nicole said, startling me.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “You can’t hear them?”

  I listened for another few seconds, then glanced at Anna who shook her head.

  “No,” I said. “What are you hearing?”

  “They make a… I can’t describe it, but it’s a low sound. That’s how they communicate when they’re not hunting. I think they’re scared.”

  “What? They’re scared? Of us?”

  “I think so,” Nicole said, finally opening her eyes and looking at me.

  “You can understand them?” Rachel asked from behind us.

  “Yes. Kind of,” Nicole said. “Just like you can understand what Dog is feeling. Sort of, but not that obvious. I can’t explain it.”

  “Where are they?” I asked, not giving a shit if the infected were frightened.

  “Somewhere that direction,” she said, pointing to the south.

  I looked intently at the area her finger indicated. There was a large hangar with a few smaller buildings behind it. None of the females were visible.

  “What are we doing?” Vance asked.

  I glanced around, mildly surprised to see him on his feet, even if he was standing with his legs spread far apart. It was hard to resist the urge to give him a hard time about looking like a cowboy who’d been in the saddle for a long ride. Instead, I focused on the problem at hand.

  “Igor and Goose, get the girls and Vance on the plane, then go find fuel. The rest of you, form up on me.”

  I walked forward twenty yards, Dog sticking close. Quickly, the remainder of the team joined me, and we spread out into a defensive line between the rear of the 747 and the area where the females were hiding. A few months ago, I would have balked when Rachel, Irina and Anna joined us, rifles in their hands, but now I was happy to have the extra firepower.

  Nicole had followed to stand next to me, Gonzales taking a position immediately by her side.

  “Still hear them?” I asked her.

  “Yes,” she said after a long pause. “There’s something different about these, but I don’t know what it is.”

  “What do you mean, different?”

  She was quiet for another long stretch, eyes closed as she listened intently.

  “The ones we encountered in Seattle, and in the facility, were different. Angry. No, that’s not it. Enraged. But these, it’s...”

  “Why are they not attacking? Irina asked.

  “It’s like they’re trying to protect something,” Nicole said.

  “Oh, my God,” Rachel breathed.

  “What?” I asked when she didn’t continue.

  “Remember the females on the way to Mexico and on the beach?”

  “Yeah,” I said, not getting her point.

  “They were pregnant.”

  Despite years of training and combat experience, every head turned away from the threat to stare at Rachel.

  “Remember the ones we saw?” Rachel asked. “The pregnant ones held back. They didn’t join the attack.”

  “Yes!” Nicole said loudly. “That could be it. That’s why they’re afraid. Why they’re not attacking!”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Gonzales asked. “These goddamn things are reproducing?”

  “Saw it myself, Master Chief,” I said. “Whole bunch of ‘em, big as a beach ball. And she’s right. It was the ones that weren’t pregnant that were coming after us.”

  “We need to go clear them out,” he said, eyes hard.

  “No!” Nicole said, placing her hand on his arm. “They’re not a threat!”

  “Maybe not now, but what about after those babies are born? What then? A mother protecting her child will be twice as dangerous as before! And what about the kids? What are we turning loose on the world if we don’t kill them all?”

  Nicole pulled her hand back, a look of horror on her face. She stared at Gonzales, then turned and started to walk towards the 747. After only a few steps she spun and sprinted through our line, directly towards the hangar.

  46

  Captain West walked into the conference room, accompanied by a tall, rangy man. He was wearing a Navy Commander’s uniform, a SEAL trident gleaming under the bright lights. He quickly set about connecting a compact laptop to a ceiling mounted projector. Several senior Navy and Marine officers occupied the seats around the table, waiting for the briefing to begin. It wasn’t long before Admiral Packard breezed into the room, waving everyone to stay in their seats before they even had a chance to fully stand.

  “Commander, thank you for joining us,” he said to the SEAL officer as he dropped into a chair at the head of the table. “Let’s not waste time. Begin when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the SEAL said.

  He tapped a key on the laptop and two, side-by-side images appeared on the large screen at the front of the room. On the left, a satellite image of a sprawling, primitive appearing prison camp spread across snowy tundra. To the right, another surveillance photo of a tall, luxury apartment building. Green grass and palm trees surrounded the ground level entrance.

  “Sirs,” he began. “These are our two targets. On the left is Detention Camp 7 in Siberia, and the other is the personal residence of President Barinov in Sydney. Both present unique challenges to a successful operation and I will briefly detail those to start, with your permission, sir.”

  He was looking directly at Admiral Packard as he said the last, earning a nod of approval. Clearing his throat, he continued.

  “Detention Camp 7 is located one hundred and forty miles northeast of the Russian city of Irkutsk, two thousand five hundred miles from the East China Sea. It is comprised of ninety-one prisoner barracks, seventeen guard barracks and nine administrative buildings. There are also two large factories, staffed by the inmates, that produce winter clothing. The camp is a self-sustaining facility with its own power generation. Water is supplied by a series of subterranean pipes that draw from the nearby Angara river. Food is produced in the summer by forced prisoner labor in quantities sufficient to be canned or dried and stored for the winter.

  “There is only one road in or out, and it is impassable much of the year due to the weather. During the narrow window when trucks can make the journey, raw materials are transported in, and finished goods are brought out. A single, improved runway serves the needs of the camp, which are few as the guards and administrative staff are full-time residents. There are no regularly scheduled flights and only a small, single-engine plane on site for the use of the camp commander. The camp is exclusively for the incarceration and punishment of political prisoners, with an estimated current population of fifty-five hundred inmates.”

  Packard’s eyebrows shot up, and he interrupted the SEAL.

  “Fifty-five hundred prisoners, Commander? Did I hear you correctly?” />
  “Yes, sir. That is correct.”

  The Admiral was quiet for a moment before nodding for the briefing to continue.

  “Sir, you have identified the biggest challenge we are facing with the operation to extract Admiral Shevchenko. We have no idea where he is amongst the inmate population.”

  “Sir,” Captain West interrupted. “I have provided the most recent photo we have of Admiral Shevchenko to Chief Simmons, and she has initiated the facial recognition program via the NSA satellites, but she is not optimistic we will be successful in identifying and locating the target.”

  “Why not?” Packard asked.

  “It is winter in Siberia, sir. The prisoners are only outside to report for a shift at one of the factories or to go to the mess hall for their daily meal. And, when they are visible to the satellite, they are typically wearing hats and protective coverings on their faces.”

  “So, Commander, what you’re telling me is that if you go into the camp, you’ll have to physically inspect every prisoner until you locate the target?” The Admiral asked.

  “Correct, sir. And, even then, we would be working off a photo that is several years old. A photo of a younger, healthier man. I have concerns about our ability to even identify the target after months in these conditions.

  “Additionally, there are nearly five hundred guards garrisoned at the camp. Apparently poorly trained and quite sloppy with their duties, but they can afford to be. The surrounding wilderness ensures that even if a prisoner were to escape, they would not survive long enough to reach civilization.

  “Sir, as well trained as my men are, we cannot expect to succeed under these circumstances. If we can confidently locate the target, that is a different story, but I have not touched on the logistics of raiding a location this deep within Russian territory.”

  “Commander, are you saying it can’t be done?” The Admiral asked, eyes boring into the SEAL officer.

  “Sir, I’m saying that based on the current circumstances, we would almost certainly lose every man we send in.”

  “And, tip our hand to the Russians, sir,” Captain West interjected quickly.

  The Admiral sat quietly, staring at the two men. Finally, a Marine General from the opposite end of the table spoke up.

  “Assuming we cannot locate the target with facial recognition, Commander, do you have an alternative proposal?”

  “Yes, sir. I do. A small team infiltrates the camp and integrates with the inmates. I do not believe the guards will notice an additional few prisoners, especially considering the size of the population and the apparent lack of interaction between the two groups.

  “Once embedded, the team will locate the target. If circumstances allow, they will escape to the surrounding forest and signal for extraction. If they are unable to escape, as long as we know a location and are confident in target identification, we can go in and get him and be back out before the guards are aware of our presence. If we do our job right, they might not even miss the prisoner we bring with us.”

  “What do you need for that?” The Marine asked.

  “Native Russian speakers, so they can blend in. It may take some time for them to find the target. Secondly, it would be very beneficial if we had more current photos or a method to positively identify we’re bringing out the right man.”

  “I don’t understand. The right man? Why is that a concern?”

  “Sir, many of these inmates have been at the camp for over a decade. They are almost assuredly desperate and would leap at any opportunity for escape. I fully expect that there would be many of them who would claim to be the man we’re looking for, simply so we’d bring them with us. We cannot make that mistake. I’ve looked into the possibility of some sort of DNA test as ultimate confirmation, but there’s nothing we can use in the field, and we do not have the target’s fingerprints on file.”

  “Commander,” Admiral Packard said, forestalling another question from the Marine General. “What if I can get you a native Russian speaker that is personally acquainted with the target. Would that speed up the process?”

  The SEAL looked at the Admiral in surprise.

  “Yes, sir! That would be optimal.”

  “And if that person is a woman? Are there women in this camp?”

  “This is a male only camp, sir. A woman would present unique challenges, and be at much greater risk than a man, but if she could positively identify the target, without question, it would be worth it.”

  Packard nodded, shooting a glance at Captain West.

  “We don’t have her yet,” the Admiral said. “But, at last report, she’s boarding a plane and should be here in a few hours.”

  The SEAL stared curiously, wanting to ask questions, but knew this was something the Admiral wasn’t ready to talk about.

  “We’ll revisit this operation tomorrow,” Packard said. “Now, please move on to Barinov.”

  “Yes, sir. President Barinov is currently in residence in the penthouse of the building pictured on the right. It is located overlooking Sydney Harbor in Australia. The neighborhood is on a narrow spit, called Potts Point, that thrusts north into the harbor. Russian Spetsnaz have created multiple concentric rings of security at ground level, and the only land access is guarded by Australian troops.

  “A pair of Russian guided missile boats are stationed in the harbor, providing air defense. Three frigates and a cruiser are guarding the mouth of the harbor, and we believe there is an Akula class sub patrolling offshore. The security is alert and extremely competent.”

  “I’m not liking the sound of this, Commander,” the Admiral growled. “Are you leading up to telling me this can’t be done?”

  “No, sir. I’m not. However, I’m informing you that this is a hardened target within the city of an ally. Reaching the target undetected will be nearly impossible at best. And therein lies my concern. In your tasking order, you stated that the target has the capability to release chemical weapons and he must be neutralized before he can do so. Sir, I cannot promise that.

  “With the protection that is in place, it is extremely unlikely that my men and I will be able to reach the target undetected. I am confident, that with the proper support, we can achieve part of our mission and terminate Barinov. However, doing so without having to engage the target’s security, and thereby alerting him to our presence, is very doubtful. It is also highly probable that there will be significant collateral damage, almost certainly involving Australian citizens.”

  “What about other locations?” The Marine General asked. “Does he go out for dinner? A mistress? Anything?”

  “No, sir. At least, not since we’ve been watching, and we’ve also pulled archived surveillance footage. The only time he’s left the penthouse was when he executed our men.”

  The room fell silent for several moments.

  “But, there is one potential crack in their security,” the Commander continued. “There is a daily delivery to the building. Foodstuffs. Alcohol. Necessities. These are provided by a local, Australian company. In addition, a cleaning company has been hired. They arrive daily at 0900 and depart at 1400. There are also frequent visits in the evenings by various local women.”

  “Women?”

  “Escorts, sir. Very high end. It is unclear if they are for Barinov personally. The lower floors of the building are occupied by several senior Russian officers, and we have no way of knowing who the women are seeing. But, they are always accompanied to and from the building by the local police. With the Australians’ cooperation, we could insert agents into any of these.”

  A buzz started up around the room as the assembled officers recognized the opportunity to get someone inside with a weapon. Someone who could potentially get close to Barinov and pull the trigger before he realized he was in danger.

  “The PM will never go along with this,” the Marine General said loud enough to cut through the conversations and silence them.

  “You are correct,” Admiral Packard said. “In fact, I
do believe he would run straight to Barinov and reveal our plans. I’ve been reading reports about discontent within the ranks of their military and police. Perhaps we can start a little lower down the chain of command and find someone who resents the Prime Minister for having rolled over for the Russians.”

  “Sir,” Captain West spoke up. “I’ve had similar thoughts and began making inquiries amongst our men. SEALs, Recon Marines, Rangers… none of them know anyone within the Australian military. For the moment, we don’t have a place to start.”

  “It sounds like we’d damn well better find one, wouldn’t you agree, Captain?”

  47

  When Nicole raced past, Gonzales shouted and charged after her. With a curse, I yelled for everyone to stay put and took off as well. I’d had the idea that together we could catch and subdue Nicole, but had forgotten what the partial infection had done to her body. She was fast, quickly outdistancing us.

  I managed to keep pace with the Master Chief, but all we could do was watch the lead Nicole had on us quickly expand. Dog trotted at my side, and I briefly considered sending him ahead to stop her but was afraid that in her emotional state she might try to fight. If she did, I wasn’t at all confident that he wouldn’t injure her, or worse. Gonzales and I were both slowing, unable to maintain a long-distance sprint, when Nicole disappeared through a man door into the hangar.

  More than a minute later, we pounded up to the outside, and I lunged forward, body checking the Master Chief to the side when it was apparent he intended to charge through the door without stopping. He stumbled, losing more speed, then whirled on me. The panic on his face morphed to anger when I placed myself between him and the door.

  “Stay the fuck out of this,” he hissed, taking a step forward.

  I stood my ground, glancing between the dark opening and his approaching bulk.

  “Stand down, Master Chief! That’s an order!” I barked.

  He wasn’t in the mood to listen and surged to the side, trying to go around me. I ducked as he tried to stiff-arm me in the face, slipped inside and locked the extended limb into a hold and twirled him away from the hangar. Dog growled, gathering himself to join the tussle, and I snapped at him to stay as I advanced to meet Gonzales.