Coming to a sliding halt between the vehicles, Mitchell grabbed the nearest technician and asked him if he spoke English. The surprised man shook his head and tried to step back, only to be held firmly in Mitchell’s grip.
“I speak English,” said a youthful-looking technician, covered in dirt and grime from working underneath the vehicles.
“What’s wrong with this vehicle?” Mitchell asked, pointing at the ATV with its hood up.
“Nothing, there’s nothing wrong with it. I was just admiring its engine,” replied the technician, wondering why armed strangers were enquiring about the army vehicles.
“Where are the drivers?” asked Sam.
“They went to get something to eat.”
“Well, we need it right now,” said Mitchell, letting go of the scared technician and pushing him out of his way.
Mitchell slammed the hood down and pointed at the massive ATV. Right away, Jackson gently placed Cardinal in one of the seats in the back of the vehicle while Sam buckled him in.
Mitchell climbed up into the driver’s seat and was relieved to see that everything on the dash was still labelled in English. Recently purchased from the British Army, the six-wheeled Coyote was designed for use in the IED-infested deserts of Afghanistan. With a .50 caliber heavy machine gun mounted on the roof, the vehicle could dish it out if needed. Mitchell had never driven one before, not that it mattered. This was their ticket out of the complex. He reached for the starter button and pushed down. The vehicle’s 5.9-liter Cummins engine roared to life.
Without being told, Jackson scurried up behind the .50 cal. He loaded a belt into the feed tray before pulling back on the charging lever, loading a round into the chamber.
Mitchell placed the vehicle in drive. He placed his foot on the accelerator and felt the Coyote’s tires grip the smooth hangar floor. Slowly, the ATV began to pick up speed. Up ahead were the main hangar doors sitting wide open. The cool, dark night beckoned to them.
They burst out onto the hangar floor like a raging torrent of water. A second later, Cypher and his men skidded to a halt, staring in disbelief as the ATV driven by Mitchell drove past them.
Atsuko ran around the men. Her jaw dropped when she saw Mitchell behind the wheel of the 6x6. For a brief second, their eyes locked.
“Stop them. They’re getting away!” hollered Cypher at the top of his lungs, gesturing wildly at the ATV.
Shaken from their lethargy, the guards brought up their weapons. A split second later, a torrent of bullets flew into the side of the armored vehicle.
Mitchell heard the bullets strike the armor plating. With his foot jammed on the accelerator, it was going to take a lot more than small arms’ fire to stop their vehicle.
With a dull roar, Jackson brought the Coyote’s .50 cal to life. In the blink of an eye, men barely twenty meters away were torn to pieces as the heavy machinegun’s bullets ripped through the air.
Atsuko screamed and threw herself to the ground. She placed her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the horrible noise of men being shredded to pieces right beside her. She turned her head slightly and saw Cypher standing there in his red housecoat, impotently firing his pistol at the armored ATV as it raced for the open hangar doors.
With her body across Cardinal’s, Sam tried to protect him from the shrapnel flying about in the back of the ATV. She watched numbly as Jackson brought down a group of men in seconds. Sam saw another batch of guards step out into hangar. In a flash, her blood boiled. In the lead was the Mongolian sergeant who had broken Cardinal’s hand. She saw a pistol hanging from Jackson’s belt. She reached over, drew the 9mm, cocked it and turned her wrath on the man who had caused them so much pain. She fired until the pistol was empty. Sam killed their tormentor and anyone who tried to go near him. With a loud cry, she threw the empty pistol from the back of the ATV.
Hwan emerged into the hangar and nearly lost his balance as his shoes slid along the blood-covered cement. With a look of utter disbelief, he watched as the ATV raced out of the hangar into the night.
“What the hell are you going to do now?” yelled Hwan at Cypher.
Cypher turned to face Hwan, with his pistol aimed straight at the colonel. Cypher’s eyes were ablaze, his face contorted in anger. He fought to control himself. Cypher lowered his pistol. He knew this wasn’t the place or the time; he would have to wait to kill Hwan. Then with icy calmness, he said, “They haven’t got away yet. I need to speak with the army units on patrol outside of the complex. They can deal with them.”
Cypher walked to the nearest telephone on the wall and picked it up. Within seconds, he was speaking with the army colonel in charge of the outer perimeter, telling him that saboteurs had struck the complex, and that he needed to ensure they were to be either killed or captured. He didn’t care which, only that they were stopped. Cypher, satisfied that things were turning back in his favor, hung up the phone. He calmly walked over to Atsuko, who was still cringing on the blood-soaked floor.
“Come, my dear,” Cypher said delicately. “We need to get cleaned up.”
Shaking, she took his hand and slowly got up off the floor. Her legs were weak. The sound of the men dying still rang in her ears. The scene all around her was a slaughterhouse. Dead and dying men were strewn everywhere. She willed herself not to be sick in front of the North Korean colonel.
Cypher and Atsuko went to change their clothes, seemingly oblivious to the carnage at their feet.
Hwan let go of the AK in his hands and bent down to help the nearest man, trying to crawl back away from the dead bodies lying beside him. Cypher might be a cold-hearted monster, but Hwan was still a soldier, and he wasn’t just going to let the men at his feet die without trying to help save those he could.
He placed his hands over a man’s shattered leg, trying to stem the bleeding. Hwan gritted his teeth. As soon as Long Sword was complete, he was going to delight in putting a bullet into Cypher’s skull.
30
Mitchell had been so focused on his driving that he barely heard Jackson firing away at the guards.
Speeding out of the hangar, Mitchell turned the wheel hard over to the left. Dirt and rocks flew from the rear tires as they clawed into the loose ground for traction. From the aerial photographs taken by Jackson and Yuri, Mitchell knew that the main gate was to the east. However, it would be too heavily guarded. There was another smaller gate that allowed traffic in and out on a side road that was located less than five hundred meters to the north, and that’s where Mitchell was headed.
Pressing his throat-mic, Mitchell called Yuri.
A second later, Yuri’s voice filled Mitchell’s earpiece. He had never been so happy to hear Yuri’s voice before in his life. “Listen up, Yuri, the plan has change. We need you to be ready to pick us up about ten kilometers north of the complex.”
Yuri acknowledged the order and started to warm up the helicopter’s engine.
Mitchell swerved around a slowly driven truck. A second later, he spotted the side gate in the distance. From out of the night, a searchlight, as bright as day, lit up the escaping ATV. Swearing, Mitchell brought up a hand to block out the blinding glare from the intense light.