Alexandra smiled. It seemed like everything was ready. All they needed to do now was place the bombs and leave.
Sam edged to the corner of an abandoned wooden shack and cautiously peered towards the building where Jen was being held. Outside the front entrance, Sam could see two tough-looking men standing guard, their weapons cradled in their arms. The ground from where she was to the building was open and sparse. There was no way she could make her way over to the other building without being seen. Swearing to herself, Sam pulled back behind cover and quietly keyed her throat-mic, “Cardinal, I’ve got two ugly mothers outside of Jen’s building. Can you see them?”
“I’m already laid on them,” replied Cardinal coolly into Sam’s earpiece.
Sam did not expect anything less. “Ok, my love, once Nate starts the fireworks, I need you to clear them out of the way so I can make it over there in one piece.”
“Consider it done,” said Cardinal, his voice trailing off.
Sam knew something was up and waited.
“Fahimah’s just heard back from General O’Reilly. The cavalry is on the way. ETA to our position is just over two hours,” said Cardinal.
“Who did they find out here? Iceland doesn’t have an army,” said Sam.
“Seems a marine amphibious ship was on exercise with NATO naval forces off the coast of Scotland and is now steaming our way. When they’re close enough, they’re going to launch a company of marines to assist,” explained Cardinal.
“Sweet, they’re gonna show up when we don’t need them,” replied Sam.
“Enough chatter. Focus on the task at hand,” said Jackson, ending it for everyone.
Pumping her legs expectantly like a professional sprinter waiting for the race of her life to begin, Sam took a deep breath and readied herself for the inevitable clash coming their way in the next few minutes. Nervous tension filled her body. Waiting for the first round to be fired was always the hardest part for her. Once it started, Sam knew that she was ready to do her part.
41
Mitchell watched as the second ATV pushed past and pulled ahead of the one he was cuffed to. A few seconds later, Alexandra strolled past him with her head haughtily held high as she climbed aboard the lead ATV. Riding in Alexandra’s ATV were Markov and two of Chang’s men. Another bomb specialist and three more mercenaries jumped onto Mitchell’s ATV. The man who had cuffed Mitchell to the bomb sat propped up on the back of the ATV, his FN-2000 resting on his lap, its short barrel aimed at Mitchell.
Seeing that all was in order, Teplov walked outside the tunnel and took out his cellphone to make a quick call to Dmitry Romanov.
No matter how hard Mitchell tried, he could not make out what was being said. Mitchell was certain that Teplov, the ever-loyal goon, was reporting in and getting the final go ahead from Romanov to place the nukes. Looking back over his shoulder towards his guard, Mitchell gave the stone-faced man a smile and tried to wiggle his hand out from the tight cuff restraining him to the bomb. No matter how hard Mitchell tried, he was getting nowhere. All he was doing was rubbing his skin raw. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he knew he had to get his hands on the keys to his cuffs if he was going to escape.
A faint noise seemed to seep inside the tunnel, growing louder by the second; Mitchell knew that it was the sound of a helicopter flying over the island, but whose?
Several of Chang’s men jumped off their ATVs, made their way to the entrance of the tunnel, and watched disbelievingly as two dark-blue police helicopters swooped down to land in the open area in front of the camp.
Mitchell knew that the police did not stand a chance against the small army of trained killers guarding the bombs. If shooting erupted, which Mitchell knew was only seconds away, the fight would be horribly one-sided.
Teplov finished talking and snapped his cellphone shut and, with a look of disbelief on his face, watched the two helicopters land. Grabbing the nearest Motorola, he hurriedly spoke into it. From out of the mining camps’ buildings emerged a couple of local thugs hired by the Romanov Corporation to keep an eye on the camp. Walking over, they were soon engaged in an animated discussion with the police as they climbed out of their helicopters. The police ignored the guards and pushed right past them, intent on approaching the tunnel. It was obvious to Teplov that their cover had been blown. Spinning around, he glared at Mitchell. Although he couldn’t prove it, he suspected that the pain in the ass former soldier had somehow contacted the local authorities. Biting his lip in anger, Teplov tasted the coppery taste of his own blood. Grabbing the Motorola, he yelled at Chang to deal with the police. A second later, a volley of anti-tank rockets slammed into the police helicopters, blowing them to pieces and instantly killing anyone still inside. Hundreds of bullets tore into the stunned police officers from Chang’s well-concealed men. In less than five seconds, the area outside the tunnel became a bloody funeral pyre. A tall thick black cloud shot up into the brilliant blue morning sky, warning others that death waited for any who came.
Mitchell watched in horror as the police were mowed down. They’d never stood a chance. His blood boiled at his inability to stop the massacre. Tugging as hard as he could at the restraint no matter how much it hurt, Mitchell knew he was going to free himself, even if it meant tearing his hand off to do so.
At the far end of the camp, a backhoe instantly vaporized, sending shrapnel and debris flying into a couple of luckless guards, tearing both men apart. The sudden explosion made Chang’s men duck and look around for their unseen assailant. Jackson watched as fear and confusion gripped two inexperienced guards who quickly panicked, dropped their weapons, and fled for the safety of an old cement mixer. Waiting a couple of seconds to allow the growing panic to spread out of control like a disease, Jackson pressed down on the remote detonator in his hand; the cement mixer instantly exploded, turning those who had sought cover behind it into red mist. His only regret was that he was a minute too late to help the police officers lying dead in the snow. Walking out from his hiding spot, a smile crept across Jackson’s face as he dropped the remote to the ground, slung an appropriated FN-2000 over his shoulder and nonchalantly made his way towards the entrance of the tunnel, his “borrowed” guard’s gray uniform bursting at the seams.
“Now, Cardinal,” said Sam into her throat-mic, as she darted from behind the cover of her building, her legs pumping for all they were worth. She figured it would take her less than ten seconds to cover the distance, but that was an eternity to her as she sprinted across the open ground. A guard turned and saw Sam in her white camouflage uniform emerge out of nowhere, sprinting towards him. Instinctively, he raised his weapon to take a shot; however, he never had a chance. A half-second later, his head exploded in a bloody crimson spray of bone and blood. The other guard died with a hole torn straight through his chest by Cardinal’s well-aimed .50 cal sniper rounds.
Jen sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs. The sound of firing and explosions outside rocked the flimsy building as if it were made of paper. Closing her eyes, Jen prayed for salvation. With a loud crack of snapping wood, the front door burst open. A second later, a white-clad figure holding a weapon slid inside and came to a stop just in front of Jen. Closing her eyes, Jen was certain she was going to die.
“Miss March, it’s all right, I’m a friend of Ryan’s,” said a female voice.
Opening her eyes, still fearing the worst, Jen looked into the grinning face of Sam Chen.
A wave of relief washed over Jen. Fighting back tears, she looked past Sam at the two bodies lying bloody on the ground outside the office. For a brief instant, she hated herself for being relieved that they were dead; the feeling quickly passed when she realized that she was now safe.