by Dave Edlund
Straight ahead there was another door, and Peter and Gary moved quickly for it. Peter opened the door just a bit and saw another hallway. He was about to open the door further when three soldiers ran past, fortunately not noticing the door ajar. This corridor must connect with another one.
“Maybe your dad and Dmitri are back with the other hostages,” Gary suggested.
Peter thought for a moment. The truth was he had no clear idea where his father was.
“It’s possible. And if he’s not there, we’ll capture Gorev and make him tell us.”
Peter eased the door open and slipped into the hallway with Gary right behind him as before. No longer concerned with checking any of the rooms, they moved quickly along the wall toward the building foyer where the hostages were held.
s
Looking something like giant robotic bugs and painted flat black, the sleek MH-X stealth Blackhawk helicopters flew low over Minsk, barely clearing the rooftops, the chop of the rotor blades muffled so that it sounded like the helicopters were far away. If they could have been seen in the dark night sky, it might have appeared they were in a tight race, the lead airship furiously trying to out distance its pursuer.
As they approached the Belarusian State University campus in tandem, they passed low over three smoldering police cars that had attempted to respond to the crisis, only to be stopped dead in their tracks by a combination of machine-gun fire and RPGs. The smoldering wrecks marked a boundary line, beyond which the police moved relatively unrestricted.
They slowed to a hover, one Blackhawk in front of the main entrance to the chemistry building and the other above the roof. Thick ropes were dropped and men were quickly disgorged.
Within 30 seconds their cargoes were off loaded and the birds slipped back into anonymity, circling high above the drop zone, audible only to the careful listener.
s
Peter stopped and eased an eye around the corner, stealing a quick glance. It was sufficient to confirm that the passage did indeed connect to the foyer as he had assumed.
“To the right is the entrance where we came in. The meeting room will be ahead and to the left.”
“Is the coast clear?” Gary asked.”
“Shhh.” Peter concentrated. With the ringing in his ears fading, he thought he heard a helicopter. “Do you hear that?”
Gary swiveled his head, trying to locate the source of the sound. “Yeah, it sounds like it’s coming from that way.” He pointed toward the front entrance.
Peter glanced around the corner. He didn’t see any guards. “Let’s go.”
With rapid, silent strides, Peter and Gary reached the next corner and stopped to listen. The helicopter sound was gone. Peter edged his head around the corner.
The foyer was a large open space with a reception kiosk near the middle of the room, facing toward the glass-walled main entrance. Outside, beyond the steps leading up to the chemistry building, was the park-like commons area. Lighting illuminated the concrete steps and eight-foot-tall post lamps dotted the commons, casting deep shadows from the scattered trees.
Two soldiers were pressed tightly against the far wall of the foyer near the front entrance, their attention focused on something that seemed to be transpiring outside.
Peter returned his attention to the kiosk. It was configured with a semi-circular counter open to the rear. The wood-paneled counter was fortified with sandbags stacked two deep, packed tightly against the back side of the kiosk. A NPA soldier was manning a machine gun, aimed at the glass entrance.
On the opposite side of the foyer from Peter’s position was the room where he and Gary were taken with the other hostages. While he was watching, a door opened and Gorev and three guards exited. Gorev was shouting orders and speaking into a hand-held radio.
Peter pulled back from the corner. In a very low whisper he reported what he saw to Gary.
“I say we rush them, kill the guards, and shoot Gorev in the shoulder and make him tell us where he’s holding your dad,” Gary said.
“And if we miss?” Peter replied. The sound of breaking glass broke his concentration. He hazarded a glance around the corner again and saw the two guards on the floor, blood pooling around their bodies, one of the front windows shattered. The machine gunner was drooped forward across the kiosk counter, motionless.
Then all hell broke loose.
Chapter 14
Minsk
A SERIES OF EXPLOSIONS occurred in rapid succession outside the building, shattering the glass wall and propelling sharp fragments into the foyer.
“Good thing we weren’t out there,” Gary observed.
Gorev and his guards had retreated out of the foyer prior to the blast, scrambling back into the room and avoiding harm.
Peter had just started to move forward when three men dashed through the shattered remnants of the front entrance. Dressed in civilian clothes with black load harnesses, and brandishing H&K 416 automatic rifles, the Delta Force operators looked more like private-sector bodyguards than elite soldiers.
“Freeze! Drop your weapon!” one of the men yelled at Peter.
Before Peter could comply, gunfire rang through the hallway and bullets zipped through the foyer. The three men, Peter, and Gary simultaneously dove in front of the kiosk for protection.
“I’m American!” Peter said. “We’re on your side!”
More gunfire and bullets slammed into the counter. Fortunately, the sandbags offered ample protection. One of the Delta Force operators stole a quick glance to the hallway where the shooting was coming from.
“I count three shooters, Zeus,” he said. One of the operators with a short red beard nodded his head, almost imperceptibly, in reply.
“Who are you?” Peter asked.
“We’re here for the hostages,” Zeus answered. “Do you know where they are?” His eyes blazed with an intensity Peter had seen before… in Jim Nicolaou’s SGIT team.
“Yes, they’re in there,” Peter pointed to the conference room where he had last seen them hours ago.
“That’s what our intel says as well.”
More bullets gouged chunks of wood from the kiosk, followed by a grenade blast that shredded a portion of the counter. Still, the sandbag barricade stood.
“I need cover fire,” Zeus said, “so I can turn around that machine gun. Ready?”
“You know how to use that AK?” one of the operators, a big man, asked Peter and Gary.
“Good enough,” Peter answered.
Zeus decided they were as ready as possible. “Okay, now!” he ordered. All four men began firing short automatic bursts, taking little time to aim. Zeus stood up, pushed the dead body off the PKM light machine gun, and spun it and the ammunition box around so he could aim it down the hallway. He pulled back the charging bolt, ensuring a round was chamber, and then pulled the trigger.
Zeus fired short bursts to avoid overheating the barrel and conserve ammunition, aiming at the NPA soldiers when they emerged from doorways, forcing them back, at least for the moment.
“Bear, get a sitrep from Gunslinger. Tell ’em to get their butts down here!”
“Roger,” the big man said.
Without interrupting his aim, Zeus issued his next order. “Keep your AKs on the east hallway, where you came from. They’ll try to pin us down from both directions.” Immediately Gary and Peter shifted, rifles aimed and ready.
No sooner had Zeus finished speaking when a squad of five NPA soldiers arrived in the east hallway and opened up on the kiosk. Peter and Gary returned fire, pushing the squad back, leaving two dead on the floor.
Zeus was firing the machine gun again. For the moment, it looked like a standoff, neither side able to advance or eliminate the opposition. Another grenade careened off the wall, striking the kiosk, and then rolling a few meters away from the sandbags before exploding. Supported by the two other Delta operators plus Peter and Gary, Zeus kept firing, and then reached the end of the ammunition belt.
With the volume
of fire dramatically reduced, an NPA soldier stepped into the hallway, raised an RPG, and fired. The shaped charge detonated on the sandbags.
s
Gunslinger was the second Delta team of seven operators that had deployed onto the roof of the chemistry building. The plan was for Gunslinger to approach the objective from inside the building, clearing all hostiles they encountered, while Outlaw blasted in through the main entrance and quickly took control of the conference room where the hostages were supposedly held.
The plan was simple enough. With Gunslinger providing fire support, Outlaw would usher the hostages out into the commons where they would be loaded onto the two MH-X Blackhawks, presently orbiting overhead, unheard and unseen.
Although the insert went well, encountering no resistance, the plan quickly began to unravel. Outlaw team was decimated by antipersonnel mines strategically placed around the main entrance and remotely detonated. Zeus lost four of his team to shrapnel before they even entered the building. And once inside, they were pinned down by a crossfire from the east and west hallways, only ten meters from the objective.
“Move, move, move!” The team leader of Gunslinger admonished his men to rapidly descend the stairwell. He had memorized the essential details of the building plan on the flight from Ramstein Air Base in Germany and knew the stairwell would connect to the west hall on the ground floor, about 100 meters from the objective.
The Delta operators moved down the stairs, single file with rifles pulled snug to their shoulders, both eyes open and simultaneously looking at the holographic red dot while taking in everything in their field of vision. Their bodies were brushing the gray concrete walls, ever pushing forward. Initially, they didn’t encounter any NPA soldiers. When the lead operator approached the second floor landing, the door to the stairwell opened and two hostile soldiers rushed in, not expecting to meet American Special Forces.
The lead operator fired twice in rapid succession, killing the NPA guards. Gunslinger team continued following the stairs down, urgently moving to provide backup to the remnants of Outlaw. They were nearly at the ground floor.
s
General Gorev smiled inwardly. So far he had correctly anticipated the rescue attempt and meticulously planned a superior defense. Holding a remote detonator in his hand, he turned the rotary switch to position four and then depressed the button. A fraction of a second later the muffled sound of explosions was felt more than heard.
He tossed the small box aside and then keyed the hand-held radio. “Activate the SA missile batteries and shoot down all airplanes over the city.” His communication would be relayed by the radio operator in the department chairman’s office to the appropriate forces at the international airport where the missile batteries had been placed.
A tinny voice answered, “But what if there are commercial flights?”
“Very unlikely at this hour. You heard my order, now do it!”
“Yes, sir!”
“And quickly move two teams onto the roof armed with Igla missiles. Tell them to check the operational status of the machine and radio their report to me immediately, but they are to hold their position. When the helicopters return, destroy them.”
s
Inside the stairwell Gunslinger paid little attention to the emergency lights mounted high on the wall at each landing, one aimed up the stairs and the other pointing down the stairs. The non-descript battery boxes with dual incandescent lights were designed to automatically turn on in the event of a power outage, lighting the way for evacuation of the building.
The Delta team had no way of knowing that the batteries had been removed from each box and replaced with a MON-50 directional antipersonnel mine. When detonated, the RDX high explosive propelled hundreds of short steel rods forward in an arc. In the open, the lethal range was 50 meters—in the stairwell, the steel shrapnel bounced off the hard walls and stairs, turning the confined space into a giant blender.
In the span of a single heartbeat, the entire Delta team had been eliminated.
s
Dust filled the foyer while debris was scattered everywhere. Zeus took stock—Bear was alive and scrambling back into position, but his other operator, who had been directly in line with the RPG, wasn’t so lucky. The large ragged hole at his waist, the clothing and tissue scorched around the edges, was ample evidence. Peter and Gary appeared unhurt, still firing whenever a target appeared.
“We can’t stay here,” Zeus said. He depressed the button on his throat mic and spoke rapidly. “Gunslinger! Gunslinger!” All he heard was static. He tried again. “Gunslinger! Report, over.”
Nothing. His mission had just gone from bad to worse.
“Listen up! We’re gonna bust through those doors,” Zeus pointed at the double doors connected to one end of the large conference room. At the other end of the room was a similar pair of doors.
“Bear, I’ll go first. I want you right behind me to throw your weight into the doors. I’ll shoot the hostiles and you herd out the hostages. Get them out as fast as you can while I provide cover.”
Bear nodded.
Zeus turned to Peter and Gary. You two stay here and keep firing. As soon as the hostages exit, you join up with them. We’ve got two Blackhawks circling, and I’m not leaving anyone behind. Got it?”
Zeus didn’t wait for an answer. He was dashing to the room. Then Bear heaved his considerable bulk into the double doors and they flew open. Off balance, Bear crashed into a chair and onto the floor.
The NPA guards were standing, dispersed around the room and caught by surprise as the Delta operator burst in. Bear shot the closest guard from his prone position and then rose to his feet, shouting for everyone to keep their heads down and get out.
Zeus was standing at the doorway, moving his rifle from target to target, firing single shots, then moving to the next guard. Simultaneously he was speaking into his mic. “Outlaw to Overlord. Objective secured. Need immediate extract. Under fire and taking casualties. LZ is hot!”
The Blackhawk pilots didn’t need to be told the landing zone was under attack, the sound of gunfire was clearly audible over the radio.
“Roger, Outlaw,” answered the pilot of the lead Blackhawk. “Will advise Spooky. Overlord One is inbound.” His co-pilot was already in communication with the C-130 Specter gunship circling above the battle. Bristling with armament and advanced targeting systems, including a 105mm canon, the Spooky gunship was a military marvel that always held the high ground. Using thermal imaging, any person or vehicle on the opposite side of the Blackhawks from the chemistry building would be assumed hostile and targeted with either the minigun or the howitzer.
Gorev was surrounded by his men at the far end of the conference room, still clutching the hand-held radio. One of the NPA guards turned toward Zeus and Bear and fired, missing the Delta men but shooting several hostages.
The civilians were making it out, but not fast enough. Bear and Zeus were doing their best, but with the hostages running for the door and the NPA guards shooting back, it was difficult to get a clear shot.
Seeing only two Special Forces commandos, Gorev recognized his opportunity and split his force. “Into the foyer!” he ordered the closest guards. They rushed the doors and threw them open, expecting to cutoff the escaping hostages and kill the two remaining Delta operators.
s
“I’m out,” Gary shouted.
Peter slammed home a fresh magazine and handed his AK to Gary. “Keep shooting!”
The RPG explosion had punched a hole through the sandbag fortification and destroyed the kiosk counter, but miraculously the PKM machine gun was laying nearby. Peter reached over the Delta corpse and through the hole left by the explosion; he grabbed an ammo can, popped open the lid, and loaded the end of the ammunition belt into the receiver. He cycled the charging bolt just as the doors flew open.
As the NPA guards rushed out, Peter let loose with the machine gun and mowed them down. Gorev was stunned and dropped behind the steel de
sk for cover. He was shouting into the radio he still grasped. “Order the perimeter teams to close on the front of this building from the campus commons. The hostages are escaping outside. Cut them off!”
Peter thought he had glimpsed Gorev, but when he finished shooting, Gorev was nowhere in sight. “Gary, time to go! I’ll cover you.” Peter stood and swung around with the PKM at his hip, firing short bursts at any NPA soldiers who presented a target.
Gary fired and retreated to the front entrance. He stood to the side, providing protection as the hostages left the building and descended the steps to the grassy commons.
“People! Gather at the bottom of the steps. A helicopter is coming to take you all to safety. Everyone, listen!” Gary was shouting, and slowly getting the message across to the hysterical crowd.
There were still a dozen civilians screaming and pushing for the exit where Zeus was trying to get clear shots at the guards when a bullet found its mark, striking Bear in the forehead.
Another guard fired his rifle in the general direction of the doorway, attempting to shoot through the hostages to kill the lone operator. He succeeded in hitting the last five civilians. Zeus took a grazing bullet in his arm.
With the last of the hostages out the door, and his entire team dead, Zeus had no choice but to fall back and lead the hostages onboard the helicopters as fast as possible.
Peter was outside, searching the ragged group for his father’s face. “Dad!” he kept calling. Finally he saw him standing next to Dmitri, looking around like most everyone else, confused as to what they were supposed to do now.
“Dad!” Peter yelled again as he ran toward him. This time Ian heard and threw an awkward embrace around his son, carefully avoiding the machine gun hanging at Peter’s side by a web strap, the remains of the ammunition belt draped over his shoulder.
Chapter 15
Minsk
OVERLORD ONE WAS THIRTY feet above the lawn and descending while Overlord Two hovered 200 meters away, the door gunner searching the grounds for any nearby threat.
