Two minutes later, with everyone on board, Mitchell’s Rover pulled away from the barracks, followed by Cardinal. The despondent soldiers sat in the cold, wet mud, not sure what was going on, but more than anything else, dreading the arrival of their grizzled, old sergeant. There would be hell to pay, and they knew it.
47
Houston sat tight-lipped in the back of his Mercedes SUV. He could see in the driver’s rearview mirror a tall, black, mushroom cloud rising up into the early-morning sky, blocking out the sun. The first part of the plan had gone practically flawlessly. Mitchell’s foolhardy attempt to escape had ended when he and his compatriots undoubtedly died in the inferno consuming the base.
His SUV followed the two lead Hummers as they wound their way along the narrow mountain road. Behind his vehicle was McMasters inside the armored truck, followed closely by the semi-trailer and two more Hummers packed with men loyal to the cause. Just across the border in Montenegro, an Ilyushin Il-76 cargo plane and two Learjets waited for them on a private runway.
“Sir, McMasters would like to talk to you,” said Sophie as she handed Houston a small tablet.
McMasters’ image filled the screen. “What’s on your mind?” asked Houston.
“Sir, I just spoke with our man in Montenegro, and he said that the planes are fueled up and ready for our arrival.”
“Any chance of interference from the Albanian authorities?”
“None. The path is wide open. The necessary bribes have secured us safe passage all the way to Montenegro,” reported McMasters.
Houston smiled. “You’ve done well.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied McMasters, ending the call.
On the tablet’s screen, a video-feed image from the inside the semi-trailer came up. Houston could see the reinforced containers with the anthrax inside secured to the floor. All he had to do now was have McMasters meet his women in Rome and give them each a bottle of their favorite perfume, a Christmas gift from him. Once they applied the perfume containing the anthrax onto their skin, they would be doomed, as would anyone who encountered them. The remainder of the anthrax in the semi-trailer was scheduled to be flown to Venezuela where a lab, identical to one that had just been destroyed, was waiting to receive the deadly cargo. Within a week, the second phase of his operation could commence. Three months later, two billion people would be dead.
Houston sat back in his seat and relaxed for the first time in days. There was nothing that could stop them now.
“Nate, I’d tell you to drive it like you stole it, but we already did that,” said Mitchell to Jackson as they sped around a sharp bend.
“If this is the road that they took, we’ll catch them,” replied Jackson. “They’re armored and were not. It’s only a matter of time.”
“There, there they are,” called out Grace from the back of the Rover. She leaned forward and pointed at a dark shape in the distance, just before it disappeared around a bend in the road. There was no mistaking it; it was one of the up-armored Hummers.
Mitchell grinned and told Jackson to floor it.
Like a tiger chasing after its prey, the vehicle surged ahead and began to chase down their quarry.
In the other Rover, Sam drove while Cardinal sat beside her and Yuri sat in the back.
Suddenly, Yuri blurted out, “Little lady, turn right. Turn right now!”
Sam reacted and furiously turned the wheel over. The Rover may have not looked like much, but it was in decent condition and turned on a dime. In seconds, they were speeding down a muddy trail that led into a thick forest.
“Where are we going?” yelled out Cardinal. “Ryan didn’t turn down this trail.”
“Trust me,” replied Yuri.
A few seconds later, their Rover came out into a clearing. Sitting in the middle of the field was a massive, all-gray helicopter. To Sam, it looked like a giant praying mantis. The helicopter stood on four steel legs and was over thirty meters in length with long rotor blades that drooped over the side of the craft. A huge steel claw hung under the belly of the fuselage.
“Park over there,” called out Yuri as he pointed at the helicopter. Before the vehicle stopped, Yuri leapt from the back of the jeep. He ran over to the helicopter, dashed up the stairs, pulled open a door near the cockpit and ran inside.
With a look of disbelief on his face, Cardinal stared at the helicopter. It looked positively ancient.
“What the hell is this thing?” Sam asked Cardinal.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen one before. All I know is that it’s probably Russian and looks about fifty years old.”
The whine of the engines coming to life filled the air.
“Come on,” said Sam as she took two stairs at a time.
Cardinal ran after Sam. At the top of the stairs, he pushed them away from the helicopter.
“Mind telling us what you’re doing?” said Sam to Yuri.
“Little lady, this is a Russian chopper, I know I can fly it,” replied Yuri as he busied himself making sure that everything was working as it should in the cockpit.
Cardinal popped his head in, and said, “Yuri, what the hell is this thing?”
“It’s an old MI-10, heavy-lift helicopter,” replied Yuri. “This one looks like it has been converted for logging.”
“How did you know it was here?” said Sam.
“I saw sign on the road. Now I need Gordon by the door and little lady here,” said Yuri to Sam as he patted the co-pilot’s seat.
Cardinal shrugged his shoulders, made his way back beside the open door, and took a seat. He found a headset hanging on the wall and put it on his head.
Less than a minute later, two irate men still getting dressed ran across the field towards the helicopter.
Cardinal said, “Yuri, we’ve got company.”
“Da, please tell them we need to borrow their chopper,” replied Yuri.
“I’m going to hell one day,” said Cardinal to himself as he flicked his AK’s safety off and fired a burst into the ground right in front of the men. Shocked, both men stopped in their tracks, turned around and ran for the safety of the woods.
Jackson held the steering wheel tight in his hands as they sped around a bend doing over eighty kilometers an hour on the narrow road. The Rover’s tires squealed loudly as they fought for traction.
“Car!” yelled Mitchell as an old BMW suddenly appeared in front of them.
Jackson’s heart jumped into his throat. He frantically turned the wheel to the right, trying to avoid a head-on collision. With bare millimeters to spare, the cars sped past one another.
“That was too close,” said Mitchell.
“You’re telling me,” replied Jackson. “I didn’t think there would be any traffic on this road so early in the morning.”
“Neither did I.”
“Car!” hollered Grace, as the back end of the last Hummer seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Jackson slammed on the brakes. With a loud protesting squeal from the vehicle’s brakes, the Rover slowed, barely avoiding hitting the back of the other vehicle.
In the blink of an eye, Grace jumped up behind the machine gun mounted on the back of the Rover. She pulled back on the charging handle, feeding a bullet from the ammunition belt into the chamber. The Hummer in front of them was heavily armored. She knew that it would be pointless to fire into the body of the vehicle; instead, she took aim at its tires and pulled back on the trigger.
The unexpected sound of the machine gun firing right above their heads startled Mitchell and Jackson. Both men instinctively ducked down in their seats.
Grace knew that hitting the tires of a moving vehicle was not as easy as it looks. After a couple of seconds, Grace swore, changed targets, and fired off a long sustained burst into the rear windshield. Besides startling the men in the back of the Hummer, all Grace did was waste ammunition. The glass was far too thick for the bullets to penetrate.