by Dave Edlund
Holding the booster cup, Peter returned to the tool chest. In the top tray was a portable propane torch. He grabbed it and continued on to Nadya. She was busy placing the mine on top of two crates at the back of the APC.
Peter pressed the booster cup into the section of exposed Composition-B explosive at the top of the charge. It was immediately clear that it wouldn’t stay there on its own. The explosive was barely moldable, and although he was able to press the booster cup into the slab of yellow-tan explosive, he was going to have to secure it in position.
“Nadya, I need a section of wire to hold this detonator in place.”
She nodded, retrieved the spool of wire she used to bind their prisoner and the wire cutters, and handed them to Peter. Two wraps and a twist, and the detonator was secured.
Peter stood the portable propane torch on the crate next to the mine, and aimed the tip such that the flame would impinge the detonator. He estimated that within a few seconds of ignition, the intense heat from the torch flame would cause the detonator to ignite, setting off a chain of explosive events.
“I need the steel wool,” Peter said.
Nadya handed a large bunch to him, and he pulled it a little to loosen the fibers; then he wedged it in the wire wrap near the torch tip.
Nadya looked at her watch. “We have to hurry. We’re running out of time.”
Next Peter used the wire cutters to lop off one end of the short extension cord. He used his knife to cut back the insulation and expose the copper conductor of the two wires. He stuffed the bare copper wire into the steel wool, and then laid out the cord so the other end was resting on top of the tracks at the rear corner of the APC. Then he stood back, examining his work.
He moved his eyes from the makeshift mine to the door. Yes, that should do it. Just hope the detonator works.
“Is it ready?” Nadya asked.
Peter nodded. “Almost.” He positioned the end of the long extension cord at the tracks of the APC. “Now, for a little camouflage.” He rolled the large tool chest in front of the mine. When Ellison came through the door with his mercenaries, they’d have no idea what they were facing.
Chapter 48
UA Test Range, Eastern Oregon
April 26
Standing beside the Humvee, Ellison looked to the clear night sky. In the distance, he saw a speck of light. It was moving, gaining size as it approached. Finally, he was able to make out the red and green wing lights. When the landing lights came on, he had to avert his gaze.
The Gulfstream landed and rushed past his position. After breaking, and turning around, the G650 came to a rest not far from the parked Humvee, the turbine engines whining like banshees. Ellison had cupped his hands over his ears.
Two minutes later, after cooling the engines, the pilot powered down the aircraft and the cabin door opened outward, allowing a stairway to fold down to the tarmac. Claude Duss stood in the opening, backlit by the dim cabin lighting.
Ellison had not been waiting long. He was standing on the tarmac flanked by two mercenaries wearing black BDUs, each armed with an MP5SD submachine gun. Presently, their weapons were pointed down, and held with a relaxed grip. No threat was anticipated.
Ellison stepped forward. “Welcome, sir. How was the flight?”
“I didn’t come here for idle chit chat,” Duss said. “You have Savage and the woman, Nadya Wheeler?”
“Yes, sir. In the maintenance depot.”
Duss folded himself into the passenger seat of the Humvee while Ellison and his two men climbed into the back seat. It was tight, shoulder-to-shoulder, but the ride would be short.
With a squeal of brakes, the Humvee stopped at the depot. One of the bodyguards held the door open for Duss to enter, Ellison one step behind his boss. Once inside, Duss stood to the side, allowing Ellison to take the lead.
He strode to the end of the hallway, followed closely by his three guards and Duss. As Ellison rounded the corner, he froze. The closest guard almost walked into him, stopping only inches away.
“What is it, boss?” one of the guards asked.
“Where is Kennor?” Ellison said.
The guards looked at each other, as confused as Ellison was.
“Get the rest of the men.” Ellison motioned in the direction of the rec room, and one of the guards dashed off. The other two mercenaries tightened the hold on their weapons and locked eyes on Ellison, awaiting orders.
“Mr. Duss. I suggest you wait here.”
“What’s going on?”
“I left Kennor here at the door.”
Duss glared back at Ellison, his eyes narrowed and jaw set.
The sound of boots on tile echoed off the hard walls and soon all of Ellison’s bodyguards—10 in total—were gathered outside the double steel doors. All were former military, now professional guns for hire. They no longer pledged their allegiance to country or ideals; their loyalty now was to a paycheck.
“Has anyone seen Kennor?” Ellison asked the assembly.
Ten faces stared back in silence.
“You led me to believe,” Duss said, his voice menacing, “that the situation was under control.”
“Jackson and Nye, you stay with Mr. Duss. The rest of you will enter the maintenance bay with me. Weapons ready. I don’t know how Savage and Wheeler could have escaped, but we aren’t taking any chances.”
Ellison produced a Beretta 9mm pistol and pulled the slide back to chamber a round. He had a man grab the handle on each door, ready to throw it open.
“On three. Ready?” Ellison said. “One… Two… Three…”
The double doors flew wide and the guards poured in, fanning out as they entered the brightly lit service facility. Some dropped to a knee and shouldered their MP5SD submachine guns, the silencers making the barrels look fat, almost like a short-barreled shotgun. Others stood, brandishing submachine guns or pistols.
Peter was standing by the improvised mine when the doors burst open. With his back to Ellison’s men, he opened the gas valve on the propane torch. Then he cast a glance to Nadya. She was stationed at the side of the APC, her hands were on the extensions cords, ready to plug them together upon Peter’s order. The Beretta pistol rested on the tracks next to the electrical cords.
Ellison stepped forward and lowered his gun. He had half expected Peter and Nadya to be gone—to have somehow escaped and fled. The fact that they were still here was good. In a moment, his men would take them into custody again. This time there would be no delays prior to questioning. And when Claude Duss had his answers, when he had learned all he sought to learn, then Ellison would bury both Peter Savage and Nadya Wheeler in the desert.
“The two of you make a very resourceful pair,” Ellison said. Kennor struggled at his bonds and grunted, but no intelligent communication could escape through his taped mouth. “Perhaps later you’ll tell me how you overpowered my guard. But first, my boss wants to have a discussion with you.”
“Right. And exactly where is your boss?” Peter asked. He was standing between the mine and the tool chest.
Before Ellison could answer, Duss stepped forward. His arms were folded across his chest. “I must say, Peter Savage, you have caused me a great deal of trouble.”
“Well, it’s the least I could do,” Peter replied. He looked at the black hair, thin face and stern features of Duss and wondered what the face would look like if he smiled. In his mind, he couldn’t imagine anything resembling humor in those dark, threatening eyes.
“Step forward, both of you. Hands up!” Ellison ordered. Duss was standing by his side.
Nadya glanced to Peter, taking her cue from his actions.
Peter stood his ground. “Before we do, aren’t you just a little curious what we’ve been up to?”
Ellison raised an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly. “Look at all these guns trained on the two of you. Do you really think you can bluff your way to freedom?”
Peter drew in a deep breath and exhaled. He pinched his lips together an
d drew back the corners of his mouth, but his gaze never left Ellison and Duss.
“If you shoot us,” Peter said, addressing Ellison, “your boss won’t be very happy.”
“Correction. You mean, if I kill you. My men are excellent marksmen, and at this range wounding you will be easy. So, as the saying goes, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“I see.” Peter paused, his eyes taking in the deployment of men before him. It was impossible to predict what the spread would be for the steel nuts in the mine. But given their irregular shape, Peter assumed they would spread considerably. Naturally, the highest density would be directly in front of the mine. That’s where Ellison and Duss stood.
Of course, it was also entirely possible that the mine would be a dud. If that happened, he and Nadya were doomed.
He quickly thought through the sequence of events again, picturing each step.
“Mr. Savage. This is my last warning. Raise your hands and—”
“Now!” Peter yelled. At the same instant he shoved his shoulder into the tool chest and heaved to the side. The chest glided on roller-bearing castors to the side and Peter pivoted, diving for the concrete floor. His body slid to the side of the APC.
As soon has Nadya heard Peter’s signal, she plugged the electrical cords together, setting off an irreversible chain of events. Electrical current surged to the steel wool, instantly sparking it ablaze. The propane gas issuing from the torch ignited. The high-intensity blue flame impinged upon the detonator.
One full second after Nadya initiated the chain reaction, the mine detonated.
Chapter 49
UA Test Range, Eastern Oregon
April 26
As soon as Peter shoved aside the tool chest, Ellison was in motion, thrusting his body in front of Duss. When the mine detonated, Nadya and Peter were shielded from the blast wave by the body of the APC. Still, even with hands cupped over their ears, the sound was almost deafening, and painful. The blast wave punched their bodies, squeezing air from their lungs.
After taking a moment to suck in air, Peter rose to his knees and took in the carnage. Bodies lay scattered in unnatural positions, nearly all with blood pooling around them. Peter didn’t see Duss, although he thought he recognized Ellison’s body, lying face down on top of another. Only three men were standing, and they were dazed, unfocused.
Nadya recovered first and held the Beretta in both hands, squeezing off controlled shots at the highest threat targets.
Boom! Boom!
Boom! Boom!
Boom! Boom!
The mercenaries fell, each receiving two slugs in the chest.
Peter rose to his feet and scooped up a silenced submachine gun from the closest body. His head felt like it was tightly wrapped in a sound-proof blanket; the ringing in his ears was nearly unbearable. He saw Nadya slowly advancing, pistol pointing wherever her eyes looked.
Suddenly, two guards rushed through the doorway, firing and running. Nadya dove to the side, seeking cover behind the tool chest. A volley of bullets punched into the chest, only to be stopped by the steel tools within.
The guards turned toward Peter as he was raising the MP5. Bullets screamed past. He pulled the trigger and cut down first one guard, then the second.
For a long minute, neither Peter nor Nadya moved. Their eyes staring at the doorway, expecting another charge. It never materialized.
Although Peter’s ears were still ringing, he was beginning to regain his hearing. Through his peripheral vision, he noticed Nadya rise from the protection of the tool chest and move from body to body. She was kicking weapons out of reach, nudging bodies with her foot, and checking for a pulse. All the while keeping the Beretta ready.
Peter fixed his gaze on Ellison; his back was riddled with blood. As he approached, he recognized the clothing on the body under Ellison. It was clothing Claude Duss was wearing, but the face was concealed under Ellison’s torso.
Cautiously, Peter closed the distance. He heard the sound of a muffled groan, quickly silenced by Nadya’s Beretta.
“Nadya.” He moved his chin toward the two bodies. She understood.
Holding the pistol in her right hand, she extended her left hand and tugged on Ellison’s collar. His deadweight was heavy and unyielding at first. She repositioned her feet, and pulled again, this time leaning back to free the tangle of bodies.
Ellison’s corpse came free, and she nearly stumbled as her balance was thrown off by the shifting weight.
“Drop your weapons, both of you,” Duss commanded. He was gripping Ellison’s pistol and had it pointed at Nadya, only three feet away.
She hesitated, calculating her moves and the required time. Her pistol was in her strong hand, but it was pointed uselessly at the floor. She’d never bring it to bear on Duss before he shot her dead.
Peter also hesitated, shifting his hands on the MP5SD and lowering his head so his sight line was perfect. Very subtly, he pulled the gun into his shoulder and began applying pressure to the trigger.
“I said drop it! You too, Mr. Savage.”
Reluctantly Nadya complied and the gun clanged on the concrete. Her training as a Mossad agent was to never give up your weapon in a hostage situation. But that instruction seemed senseless when she was literally staring into the barrel of Duss’ gun.
“You can’t get away with it,” Peter said with a calm, controlled voice.
As if to underscore Peter’s statement, sirens wailed faintly. They were still far off, but getting closer.
“Put your weapon down, Mr. Savage. This is your last warning.”
“Don’t listen to him, Peter.”
“Mr. Savage. I never bluff.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Then Peter pulled the trigger.
At the sound, Nadya fell to the side, anticipating to be shot over and over. But she never felt the pain of slugs slamming into her chest.
Duss cried out, clutching his hand. The pistol was beyond reach even if he could have grasped it.
“You shot me!” Duss screamed. His eyes bulged, and spittle appeared at the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward, pulling the wounded hand in close to his chest, his blood mingling with that from Ellison.
“I’ll kill you! You hear me? You’re dead. Dead! I’ll never rest until my men hunt you down.”
“Yeah, well you’ve already tried, remember? And that didn’t go the way you planned.”
Duss tried to rise only to be shoved back down by Nadya. She was aiming her Beretta once again at him. For his part, he didn’t acknowledge Nadya at all but glared at Peter with pure hatred.
The sirens were very loud now, and Peter estimated the first responders would be there in minutes. “So let me give you a reality check, okay? First, your men are either dead, or wounded and incapacitated. You are also wounded and incapacitated. There are two guns pointed at you, and either of us would gladly kill you if that becomes necessary.”
The malevolence still burned fiercely in Duss’ eyes. “So why don’t you shoot me now? You want to.”
Peter allowed his lips to twist into a cocky grin. “Actually, I don’t. We were going to have a conversation, remember? Only now, I’ll ask the questions.”
“I’m bleeding. I need medical treatment.”
“Don’t worry,” Nadya replied. “I’m sure there are EMTs among the first responders. They’ll be here soon.”
Peter walked over to the first aid kit mounted on the wall near the doorway. He opened it and soon found some gauze packs and a triangular bandage. “Here,” he said, dropping the supplies in Duss’ lap. “That’ll keep the bleeding in check. So how about some Q and A while we wait for law enforcement to arrive?”
Duss ignored the question while he busied himself bandaging his right hand, the forearm streaked with blood to his elbow.
“Why were you trying to kill me?”
Duss finished snugging a knot by gripping a corner of the cloth in his teeth. His hand was wrapped in layer upon layer of gauze
and white cotton, but blood was already beginning to seep through.
He remained defiant. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“It’s the files, right? What’s your connection anyway?” Peter prodded.
Nadya keep the Beretta pointed at Duss. She was becoming increasingly impatient.
“Well,” Peter continued, “it doesn’t really matter. I’ll release the files to the media. Combined with the helicopter gunship attack in the mountains and this… event… here, I’m sure all the major newspapers and TV stations will pick up the story. It’ll make national headlines for weeks.”
Duss coughed out a mocking laugh. “You really don’t get it. Even now, you still don’t understand.”
Peter’s brow wrinkled. “Get what? Once I release the files, there won’t be any secrets to protect anymore.”
Duss laughed. “Are you really that stupid? Do you really think this is about an obscure event that happened in 1967?”
“No. I know it’s more than that. You stand to gain handsomely if the U.S. goes to war. And war is coming if Schuman is elected President, isn’t it?”
The mirth left Duss’ face, his jaw taking a hard edge once again. “I run a legitimate business—essential to national security. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Peter met Nadya’s gaze. The sirens were loud, and then one by one they went silent. Help had finally arrived.
Outside, law enforcement officers surrounded the building. Portable floodlights were set up and soon the sound of generators softly humming could be heard inside.
“Release the files; it doesn’t matter any longer,” Duss said. “And get used to looking over your shoulder. If you’re lucky, you’ll spend years in prison for murdering my men here. If you ever get out, you’ll have a very large price on your head.”
