The Russian Defector

by Ethan Jones

  Justin looked at Carrie as she crawled toward him. Considering her speed and movement, she didn’t seem injured. His eyes went to Ihor and his friend. The friend was lying on his back and wasn’t moving. A sharp piece had entered his side, and blood had stained his light blue jacket.

  Ihor had slid underneath the truck’s cab and was returning fire.

  Justin shouted at him, “Get out of there, quick. Out!”

  Ihor couldn’t see them, but the flames had started to chew the back of the cab. He could probably feel the heat, or was going to, very soon.

  Justin looked up as the gunman who had launched the grenade turned the launcher toward them.

  Carrie had already aimed her rifle. She fired a quick burst as another volley erupted from the other side of the burning truck.

  It was Petro’s machine gun.

  His bullets mowed down both gunmen.

  Carrie raised her rifle a couple of fingers, waiting for new gunmen to appear.

  They didn’t.

  Justin had finished readying his launcher and aimed it at the hillside.

  They waited for another long moment, but no one came.

  “Is that everyone?” Carrie whispered to Justin.

  “Don’t know.”

  He looked at the cab cloaked by flames. Ihor was nowhere in sight. “Ihor, hey, Ihor?”

  “I’m here, I’m alright.”

  “And your friend?”

  “He … he’s dead.”

  “Petro, how’s Petro?” Justin shouted.

  “Still alive and well.”

  “Wounded,” Ihor said.

  “That’s not a wound.”

  “It is.”

  Justin sighed. He stood up and took his AK from around his shoulder. He cocked it and flicked the safety lever to automatic fire. “Cover me,” he said to Carrie, who nodded.

  He began to climb along the hillside bent at the waist. He swung his rifle left and right as he gained ground. The rebels had set up a crude checkpoint about two hundred yards away. A couple of SUVs and a truck were parked to the sides, next to large concrete blocks. The flag of the Donetsk People’s Republic, three horizontal stripes of black, blue, and red, was crudely painted on one of the blocks. There was no one at the checkpoint.

  A series of villages stood further in the distance, maybe three kilometers away. He peered and saw an airfield away on the horizon. Is that Zhdanvatka? It must be. So we’re close to the missile’s location. He looked through his rifle’s scope and saw the outline of an airplane. It looked like a MiG fighter jet, but he couldn’t be certain. Then he turned his head toward the fuel tank billowing black smoke. Justin grunted. We need a new plan.

  Carrie met him when he returned to the road, at a safe distance from the burning truck. “What’s next?”

  “I need to talk to Ava. We need their help right away.”

  Carrie produced a phone from the chest rig fastened over her bulletproof vest.

  “How’s Petro?” Justin took the phone.

  “Leg wound. He’ll live.”

  “Can he walk?”

  “Barely.”

  “Of course, I can walk. I can even run…” Petro shouted from his position beyond the fuel truck.

  “Sure you can. You’re Superman,” Ihor said.

  Justin stepped to the side of the road and dialed Ava’s number. When she answered, he said, “Bad news. We made contact with a rebel group.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Not sure. South of Horlivka, I think. I can see an airfield in the distance.”

  “That’s Zhdanvatka, so you’re right about your whereabouts. We’re only five minutes away or so. Can you hold out until our arrival?”

  “We’ll do that.”

  “How’s everyone?”

  Justin told her about his team and the dire need for a change in their strategy. “We need more people and weapons, otherwise this isn’t going to work.”

  Ava didn’t respond right away. “People, that’s tough. My contacts are scarce, and there’s no time. Weapons, on the other hand—the airfield is full.”

  “What’s the security there?”

  “Minimal. The rebels have held this area for over six months, and there haven’t been any clashes. No one dares to steal anything. Plus, most of the guards have been moved to the missile’s location, since that’s the center point of their focus.”

  Justin nodded. “It’s just the three of us. Attacking the airfield is out of the question.”

  “All right. Hang tight until we arrive. Five, ten minutes at the most.”

  “We’ll be here. You can’t miss the smoke.”

  “See you.”

  He sighed and looked at Carrie, who had listened to at least his part of the conversation. “We’ve got to hide,” she said. “The people in those villages can’t miss the smoke either…”

  Chapter Twenty- nine

  At the Second Rebel Checkpoint

  Donetsk People’s Republic

  And they didn’t.

  The first truck appeared like a small dot along the horizon, growing with menace with every second, followed by three small sedans.

  Justin and Carrie secured positions at the checkpoint. They’d have to hold it until the arrival of Ava’s team. It was going to be a tough five minutes.

  The truck and the three sedans disappeared around one of the hills. When they didn’t appear on the narrow road snaking around the large fields with small thickets, Justin knew something was up.

  A mortar round exploded about forty yards to their right.

  He frowned and looked at Carrie, who was standing next to the flag-painted concrete block. She shook her head and grinned. “Amateurs.”

  This was a hasty attack, so the initial rounds served to determine the range to the target. While mortar fire wasn’t the greatest for precision attacks, it could still present a serious threat. It all depended on how many mortars the rebels had and how well trained they were. Once they began firing for effect and bracketed the target, it was only a matter of time before they’d hit it.

  Justin’s team couldn’t do anything about it. They could only hope Ava arrived before that time.

  He looked through the scope of his AK and noticed a couple of men stretched along the side of the hill—spotters with binoculars monitoring the mortar shelling and reporting the coordinates to the gunners. They were beyond the AK’s maximum firing range of eight hundred and fifty yards, but still Justin fired a couple of rounds. If nothing else, it made him feel better.

  His bullets, of course, didn’t hit the watchers.

  They must have done their job well, because the next two mortar rounds hit closer, perhaps thirty yards away from the team. Clumps of dirt and gravel hit one of the SUVs, the one closest to the rebels.

  They’re getting better. Justin clenched his teeth.

  He wished he had a sniper rifle. A Dragunov SVD with a telescopic sight would do the job very well, since its maximum firing range was close to fourteen hundred yards . How come these guys didn’t have anything useful? Carrie and Justin had found grenades, two radios, lots of AK ammunition, but no mortars or sniper rifles. The most pathetic battle loot ever…

  A fourth round missed the SUV by perhaps five or six yards. One of the rocks thrown by the explosion struck the SUV’s windshield, forming a spiderweb crack.

  Carrie shook her head again, but she was no longer smiling. The amateurs had quickly graduated to professionals.

  Justin observed the hillside and noticed a man running toward the checkpoint. He was carrying a sniper rifle. Perhaps it was the Dragunov that Justin had wished he had. He said to Carrie, “We’ve got a sniper.”

  “I see him.” Carrie nodded. “Stay down.”

  Justin searched the hillside for other gunmen, but saw no one. He withdrew behind the truck he had been using for cover and dropped to one knee. He looked through the rifle’s scope and judged the distance to be over a thousand yards. Still too far for him, but within the reach of the s
niper’s high-powered rifle.

  As if to confirm the bitter truth, a round pierced the side of the truck. It sounded like it struck the door, about six feet away from Justin. But the sniper, like the mortar gunners, was only going to get better.

  Where is Ava?

  He glanced at his wristwatch, then over his shoulder. Ihor had finished treating Petro’s wound, and they were covering Justin’s and Carrie’s backs. They were positioned about seventy yards away. “Do you see them?” Justin shouted.

  “No, there’s nothing.”

  The next mortar round struck the farthermost SUV. It turned into a fireball, the gas tank’s eruption throwing flames three stories high. Metal fragments struck the side of the truck, shattering the windshield and the side windows.

  Two more rounds pierced the truck. They sounded much closer.

  It’s getting pretty bad. Ava, where are you?

  The next two mortar rounds exploded almost simultaneously. They hit about ten yards away from the truck Justin was using as cover. The geyser of dirt and gravel sprayed the side of the truck, and a handful rained over Justin’s head.

  “We’ve got to move back,” Carrie shouted.

  “Not with the sniper there.”

  A round thumped against the truck.

  “We’ve got to leave, Justin. Or the next round…” She didn’t finish her thought.

  Justin considered their tactics. They could retreat, at least a few yards back, since the truck and the concrete blocks would partially obstruct the sniper’s line of sight. But the mortars… The only way to escape them was to leave the area.

  He was still mulling it over when a mortar round landed about twenty yards behind them. He wasn’t sure if the gunners had miscalculated, or they hoped they’d be able to hit his team as they retreated.

  “Justin, we’ve got to do something.”

  He was still undecided when he heard Ihor’s shout, “The Russians are coming …”

  Thank God , he thought, and muttered a short prayer. “How far are they?”

  “A minute, two at the most.”

  “Carrie, move back, back, carefully…”

  He peered from around the back of the truck, on the other side, and fired two quick bursts. His objective wasn’t to hit the sniper, since he hadn’t moved and was still beyond Justin’s rifle range. The muzzle flashes of his rifle, however, would give away his location, and that was precisely his intention.

  The sniper returned fire. The bullet pierced the side of the truck, thumping against the metal.

  “Now, go, go,” he shouted at Carrie.

  She bolted toward the fuel truck, just around the bend.

  Justin zipped behind her, zigzagging as he went.

  He had taken only ten steps from the truck when a mortar round blew it into smithereens. He rolled onto the ground, groaning in pain as his left knee hit hard against the gravel. The smoke provided them a good cover, so he forced himself to his knees.

  Carrie helped him up to his feet, and they both ran as fast as they could. A couple of rounds whizzed around them, but the sniper was firing blind. Justin and Carrie swung to the left side, away from the road, and out of the sniper’s line of sight.

  Two black Toyota SUVs were speeding toward them. The first one stopped when it was about ten yards away from Justin and Carrie. Ava stepped out of the front passenger seat and dashed toward them.

  “We’re okay, we’re okay,” Justin said. “Let’s get out of here. They’re blasting us with—”

  A mortar round landed behind them, cutting off his words.

  Ava nodded. She gestured to the driver, the man with the tattooed hand. “Get Justin into our SUV, and take care of his wound,” she said. “I’ll drive.”

  Justin looked at his bloodied kneecap as the man held him by the waist. Justin could manage to walk on his own with difficulty, but didn’t want to refuse the help.

  Carrie gave him a reassuring smile and hurried to the second SUV.

  When they were all in the SUV, Justin asked, “How are Petro and Ihor?”

  Ava put the SUV in reverse, then performed a three-point turn. “Fine. Petro is out of the fight for sure.”

  “We’re down to six people now,” the tattooed man said as he cut Justin’s pant leg.

  Ava looked over her shoulder. “Justin, I’m afraid we’ll have to abort—”

  “No, we can’t. We’ve come so far. We can do this.”

  “How?” asked the tattooed man as he poured antiseptic on Justin’s laceration.

  “Not sure. What can we do?” He looked at Ava.

  She shrugged. “They know we’re coming, so our advantage of surprise has vanished. We’ve lost another man.”

  “We’d need at least thirty or forty to have a decent chance,” said the tattooed man.

  “Yes, Lazar, we know math,” Ava said. “But he’s right. We can’t do what we planned. Retrieving the missile is impossible. I’m not even sure we can get close enough to destroy it.”

  “We still have the mortars,” Justin said.

  “Yes, but they won’t let us get anywhere near the base.”

  Justin nodded. He bit his lip as sharp pain from the wound seared through his leg and his body.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Ava noticed his grimace.

  “Of course. I’m just thinking….”

  He looked at the sideview mirror as another mortar exploded behind them. It was over a hundred yards away. He listened and thought he heard a rumble that sounded like a helicopter. He searched the skies, but didn’t see anything.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you hear a helo?” He made a gesture by twirling his index finger.

  Ava looked through the windshield.

  Lazar did the same and shook his head. “There’s nothing there.”

  “I don’t hear it,” Ava said.

  An idea sparked in Justin’s mind. What if? What if we got a helo? That would give us the necessary distance. Yes, that might work.

  “What is it, Justin?” Ava asked.

  “You said the airfield is full of weapons. Helicopters?”

  Ava thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think so. There was nothing in the intel report.”

  “If they had helos, they’d have moved them to the base by now,” Lazar said.

  “You said there was very little security at the airfield,” Justin said. “Rebels control these areas, and no one would steal anything from the airport. I saw a combat plane that looked like a MiG—”

  “Wait, you want to take a MiG fighter?” Ava said.

  Lazar gave Justin a curious look. “Can you fly a MiG?”

  “No, but Carrie has flown MiGs before.”

  “She has?” Ava said.

  “Yes. If the MiG is functional, its weapons are more than enough to blow up the base.”

  “You’re crazy, and so is your partner, if you think you can do that,” Lazar said.

  Ava nodded slowly. “Actually, it might work. According to our intel, there’s about ten to twenty fighters at the airfield. We can cause a diversion, allowing for Carrie to commandeer the MiG. She can then fly over the missile’s location, and blow it up.”

  Lazar said, “She’ll be alone. The rebels have anti-aircraft weapons.”

  “We all risk being shot and killed.” Ava shrugged. “Let’s talk to Carrie, see what she thinks. If this isn’t doable, then we’ll be out of options. We might as well go home.”

  Justin snorted. “Carrie has never gone home without completing a mission.”

  Lazar said, “There’s always a first time…”

  “Not for her.” Justin shook his head. “I’m sure Carrie would want to do this.”

  Chapter Thirty

  One Kilometer from Zhdanvatka Airfield

  Donetsk People’s Republic

  He was right.

  Carrie not only wanted to take the fighter jet option, but she insisted it was the most practical one. If it was true that the airfield was poorly guarded, a
nd the team could reach the aircraft, their operation could be accomplished in a matter of minutes, safely, and from a secure distance. Lazar was the only one to express his objection, but Ava had already made her decision.

  Both teams traveled through a series of back roads, at times even cutting through fields and along thickets, to avoid any more checkpoints. As luck would have it, they encountered no more rebel fighters. The team was, however, seen by villagers going about their business. It was still early morning, but everyone was up, ready for the new day.

  When they drew near the airfield, as far as Ava felt comfortable they could drive without drawing any attention, they stopped to devise the diversion. She suggested that she, Lazar, and Savin—the small, salt-and-pepper-bearded man with a bald head—attack the warehouse at the other side of the runway from the MiG-29. Justin and Carrie would take advantage of the situation and board the aircraft. Carrie’s view was that she was completely capable of flying the jet and attacking the missile’s location—just seven kilometers northeast of the airfield—on her own. Justin agreed, but expressed his desire to go with her. The MiG was a two-seater, and he noted that he wouldn’t be of much use once the airplane had taken off. At that point, the rest of the teams would withdraw to safety.

  Ava cast the decisive vote, siding with Justin, and putting an end to the discussion.

  The teams loaded their weapons and headed toward the airfield. The plan called for the Russians to open up with rocket-propelled grenades, followed by machine gun fire. Ihor would cover Justin’s and Carrie’s advance toward the airplane.

  When it was time to part ways, Ava said to Justin, “If this goes awry, know that you fought really well.”

  Justin held her gaze for a brief moment. “I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you…”

  Ava shrugged. “We’ve gone over this, Justin. Don’t mention it anymore.”

  Justin smiled. “Ava, you’re a good Russian.”

  She laughed. “We’re all good Russians. It’s just that some of us are misunderstood…”