Pagano almost smiled. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
“Looks like you’ve got a guardian angel,” Sanders said sarcastically.
Pagano exhaled. “I didn’t think angels used automatic weapons.”
Sanders laughed a silent laugh. “You’re too fuckin’ much, Pagano.”
It got quiet. They exchanged a look that acknowledged it was the quiet before the storm. Footsteps were heard converging on the enemy’s location.
“Incoming,” Pagano said in a hushed voice.
The two men met eyes before retreating in the direction from which Pagano’s saving grace had emerged.
Chapter 135
“Hallway is secure, over,” Throaty confirmed.
“Moving out now, over,” Trent Turner said as the four of them rushed down the hallway to his location. Brendan Manion took the lead, brandishing his Heckler & Koch MP7A1 submachine gun, a weapon that, having a low recoil with its suppressor attached to keep the barrel steady, was more deadly than it was quiet. Turner held up the rear with Pavel Kozlov in tow, the P226 he had been given pressed firmly into the Russian’s side. They didn’t know who might come at them from behind, so it was the obvious location for their human shield considering Turner’s weapon.
Turner listened intently as Manion shared what they knew about the compound. There had been no blueprints available for the building, so the only intel they had was from the hacker Dennis Zander. They knew how to get to the server room, which was all that mattered at this point in the operation. They had sketched together a plan and would stick to it as much as possible.
The four of them quickly made it to Throaty’s position and immediately pressed on. The three operatives knew the drilclass="underline" keep your cool and concentrate on actions that bring you closer to your objective. A reactive force, no matter how large or small, usually ended up dead. They had taken what advantage they could from the element of surprise. Now speed and aggression would have to carry them through.
They approached a corner, and the Russian barked, “You won’t make it out of here.”
Turner answered the comment with a painful blow from the butt of his weapon.
“Another sound, and I’ll use it to turn you into an eunuch,” Turner said, knowing the Russian’s intention had been to give away their position.
Kozlov’s eyes were spiteful, but held no doubt about the operative’s intention to follow through on his promise.
The group continued to navigate through the maze that made up the old steel plant’s subterranean level. Dennis Zander was in the hotel watching the live video feed from the helmet cams on Throaty and Manion and providing direction. The place was littered with rusted-out machinery in disrepair. A mildew smell hung in the air, which had mixed with the sulfurous remnants of gunfire.
It wasn’t long before they encountered heavy resistance from the Bratva’s former Spetsnaz contingent. It happened as they reached a large central area that appeared to be the hub of the compound. Two hallways shot out from the vaulted room in front of them like the top half of a lowercase Y.
“Either one of those two hallways in front of Throaty will take you there,” Zander said nervously to the sounds of another barrage of fire.
The shots had come from the hallway to the left and had forced them to take cover low.
“Heckler, you still have the exit covered, over?” Throaty asked.
“Roger that. Nobody’s going in or out the front door without paying for it, over.”
Jack Turner was down but not out. He had been given a quick shot to numb his foot that sent him back into the action, albeit from a distance. Putting down for-hire contractors wasn’t a part of the plan unless absolutely needed, but the Russians inside were definitely on the menu. The problem would be trying to tell them apart.
Jack had taken position on top of a building across the street with an MK 11 Mod 0 sniper rifle fitted with Leupold scope, a swivel-base bipod, and a QD sound suppressor that hushed its deadly 7.62 x 51 mm NATO rounds. He had enough preloaded magazines to take down the small army.
He had been given a lowlight tablet display that received real-time information about combatant locations from the PMD scouting above. It worked in tandem with the custom scope fitted to his weapon and fed vital information to the small LCD display housed inside. The details it provided were used to locate the enemy and make the weapon deadly accurate for a lone operative. Used in conjunction with the PMD, it was modern technology’s answer to a spotter.
Trent Turner motioned toward the shots that had just echoed through the hallway behind them. “Looks like we’ve got more company,” he said. The situation was getting tense. He could hear enemy reinforcements getting closer.
“Who the hell are they shooting at?” Manion asked.
Turner turned to Throaty and Manion and said, “That’s a damn good question.”
Chapter 136
He was back, and he was pissed. FBI agent Cathy Moynihan knew the yellow-toothed Russian would return. It was an eventuality she’d been contemplating over and over in her head. After the blow she’d dealt to his groin, she was sure he’d want a little payback. He had come alone, as she suspected he would. A vicious combination of hatred and anger projected from his eyes as he stared her down. That was something she’d planned to use against him.
She broke the silence. “Well, well,” she said. “How’s the you know?” Moynihan pointed her index finger downward, waist high, and wiggled it back and forth with a mocking whistle. “Oh, excuse me.” She flashed a cheeky smile and wiggled her pinky instead.
The Russian looked like a volcano ready to blow. Melody Millar and Maria Soller both were on the edge of their seats, watching intently. This was something they’d all discussed, but the situation was completely unpredictable. They didn’t have a choice. The cell signal for Soller’s service provider wasn’t strong enough to reach her iPhone.
Soller and Millar exchanged nods, and both of them began to scream at the top of their lungs. It caused the Russian to jump, and Moynihan started to laugh. She rather enjoyed pushing the Russian’s buttons.
Within seconds, footsteps were stomping toward the room. Soller and Millar wore masks of fear despite knowing Moynihan had planned to taunt the man into action before the others arrived. Moynihan was still laughing, and when she pointed her finger at the Russian, he erupted with an uncontrolled fury. He charged at her hard and fast, and this time he was ready. Soller and Millar screamed louder as they watched the man unload on the FBI agent.
The door swung open, and the American entered the room, followed by the Russian who wore the utility jacket. Moynihan was losing to her attacker but still managed to frustrate him with speed and determination. The American took a few hits as he worked to separate the fight. This was the opportunity the FBI agent had been waiting for.
She struggled to turn around so she could grab hold of the railing with both hands, but the yellow-toothed bastard proved too strong. Fortunately, the hand that was cuffed didn’t break in the scuffle. Moynihan continued to strain for the railing with her right hand, but it remained just out of reach. All would be lost unless she could pull off her part of the plan.
The Russian continued to maul her, until they finally shifted toward the wall, where she was finally able to lock her fingers around the railing. She suddenly thrust out her powerful legs, kicking the Russian into the other two men. They slammed into the soldier with the utility jacket, and he fell backward toward Soller. She quickly stuffed her iPhone into one of the pockets on his utility jacket. Maria Soller had pointed out that there was no lingering smoke during her trip to the bathroom, so she reasoned the soldier had been going outside to smoke his cigarettes.