With a loud cry, Teplov dropped his head and charged straight at Mitchell, hitting him in the stomach. Both men flew backwards onto the rock-strewn ground. Struggling, both men fought to break the other’s hold. Twisting his body, Mitchell brought up his right leg and tried kicking Teplov off him.
Sensing the move, Teplov turned his body slightly, so Mitchell’s leg missed him completely. Snarling like a rabid animal, Teplov bared his jagged teeth and lunged with his head for Mitchell’s face.
Mitchell recoiled, repulsed by Teplov’s primal attack. Pulling with all his strength, Mitchell broke his left hand free and sent it flying into the side of Teplov’s head. A loud satisfying thud filled Mitchell’s ears as Teplov’s head flew to one side. Thrusting his leg once more upwards, this time into Teplov’s stomach, Mitchell flipped his assailant up and off him. Scrambling to his feet, Mitchell sent his right foot flying into Teplov’s head, knocking him back down onto the ground. Quickly looking about, Mitchell saw under the bomb trailer that his pistol was lying just out of reach, barely ten meters away. Turning to run, Mitchell nearly tripped as Teplov, bloodied and injured but not yet out of the fight, shot his hand out and grabbed Mitchell’s nearest leg. Hauling off with his free leg, Mitchell kicked as hard as he could into Teplov’s ribs. The sound of escaping air being painfully forced out of Teplov’s lungs and a rib or two breaking were barely drowned out by Mitchell’s heart pounding away in his ears.
With a moan, Teplov let go of Mitchell’s leg. Struggling to catch his breath, Teplov painfully got up on his knees and looked over at Mitchell. He had expected to have been struck again while he was down, as he would have hit Mitchell without hesitation.
Something was wrong; something had made Mitchell hesitate.
Turning his pounding head over, Teplov looked over at Alexandra. A weak smile crept across his bloodied face when he saw that Alexandra was standing there. In her hand was Mitchell’s pistol. Slowly he stood; his feet were unsteady underneath him. Teplov, his heart still consumed with anger, staggered over to Mitchell and with a cry on his lips he smashed his fist into Mitchell’s face, sending him staggering back against the rocky wall of the tunnel.
Mitchell’s jaw felt as if it had been hit with a baseball bat. Struggling to remain standing, Mitchell shook his head, took a deep breath, and looked over at Alexandra and Teplov. He had to play for time. “I’ve already stopped the other bomb from going off, so you might as well give in,” said Mitchell.
Teplov let out a chuckle. Blood and spittle trickled down his chin. “Give it a rest, Mister Mitchell. I helped Alexandra plan this entire operation from beginning to end. Do you honestly think I would not have thought of that possibility? All we really need is one bomb. The second is a mere insurance policy. Besides, once this one goes off, the other will explode by sympathetic detonation.”
Mitchell bit his lip. Teplov was right; his plan was almost foolproof. “Bravo for you two psychos,” said Mitchell, inching ever closer. “But I doubt that your band of thugs outside will be able to hold off the army who are on their way to this island as we speak.”
“I think you are bluffing, but it is not important. Chang and his men need only last as long as it takes for Alexandra and me to leave,” replied Teplov.
“Take another step, Mister Mitchell, and I’ll shoot,” said Alexandra, stepping back and away from Mitchell.
“Enough of this crap,” said Teplov gruffly. “Kill him now and let’s get the hell out of here.”
Alexandra smiled and raised the pistol, aiming it at Mitchell’s head.
The sound of something tumbling through the air made Mitchell turn his head. A split-second later, Alexandra’s body violently lurched forward with a bloody pickaxe blade protruding through her chest. Her eyes glazed over, a look of shock and disbelief on her face as her legs buckled. Alexandra turned to look at Mitchell. She tried to say something, but only a bloody gurgle escaped her lips as she fell forward onto the tunnel floor. The pistol bounced out of her hand, landing at Mitchell’s feet.
Seeing the pistol lying there, both men dove for it. Mitchell was faster. Snatching it up off the ground, Mitchell did not even bother to aim. Pulling the trigger repeatedly, he emptied the magazine into Teplov, his body twitching every time a bullet struck home. He was dead long before his body hit the ground. The smell of acrid smoke hung thick in the air. Mitchell looked down at the corpses, and turfed the pistol away into the dark. Anger and disgust filled his heart. So many people had died, and for what?
Jackson stepped out of the shadows, looking down at the lifeless body of Alexandra Romanov.
Mitchell looked over at his friend. “Thanks, Nate,” said Mitchell. “You had a gun, why didn’t you just simply shoot them both?”
“You were in my line of fire. Besides, I wanted to make sure that she got the point,” said Jackson, grinning at Mitchell.
Mitchell shook his head at Jackson’s dead-pan humor. “What about the other bomb?”
“It’s disarmed,” replied Jackson. “I left Igor, or whatever his name is, tied spread eagle on top of it, so he wouldn’t get any ideas of heroics.”
“Great, but this nuke’s still live and can be remotely detonated at any time by Romanov.”
Jackson stepped over to the bomb. The arming device looked far more complicated than anything he had ever seen in his life. The thought of tinkering with it instantly left his mind when he saw that it had what looked to be an encrypted code built into the arming pad.
“I’m going back to the other bomb and I’ll bring Ivan back here to disarm this one too,” said Jackson as he jumped back on the ATV and took off down the tunnel.
A cellphone vibrating in the dark caught both men’s attention. Looking around, Mitchell realized that the sound seemed to be coming from Alexandra’s body. Bending down, Mitchell pulled out an iPhone from Alexandra’s jacket. Holding it up, Mitchell saw a message in Cyrillic on the screen. Mitchell cursed himself for letting what Russian he knew become horribly rusty, but the one thing he could read was that it was from Dmitry Romanov. The man was obviously expecting his daughter to send him an update. Mitchell could imagine him sitting on his yacht, going out of his mind as he wondered what was going on. Placing his broken wrist inside his jacket to give it some stability, Mitchell turned and looked down the tunnel. The sound of gunfire from outside made him realize that it was not over yet.
A couple of minutes later, the ATV came to a halt, with only Jackson on it.
“Where’s the bomb expert?” asked Mitchell.
“He told me that he doesn’t know the code,” replied Jackson. “He had the code for his bomb only, and the other specialist knew the codes for both. It would appear that trust was not this crew’s greatest asset.”
“Great, the dead one is the one we need,” said Mitchell, looking over at Markov’s corpse.
“So now what do you recommend we do?”