Chapter 139
There was no shortage of cover, but the Island Industries operatives were outnumbered and wouldn’t last long if they didn’t keep moving. The smell of oil from the dilapidated machinery was thick enough to taste, and their ammunition was limited, so they made sure each round was delivered with purpose. Brendan Manion signaled that he would check into the approaching chaos from the rear. Trent Turner and Throaty were charged to neutralize the aggressors in front.
“Damn gadgets!” Heckler said gruffly over the comms. “Looks like our FBI friends are in the neighborhood as well. Damned proximity alert fired off and I didn’t even notice, over.”
Turner cracked a brief smile at his uncle’s technology woes, and decided their best option would be to use the Bratva leader, Pavel Kozlov, to help them advance to the server room. He could see that Victoria Eden was on edge, and paid special attention to make sure she remained safe. The operative was surprised by how tough the woman was. Her ability to cope with, and even contribute to the situation by taking down Kozlov, had been a pleasant surprise.
“We have Pavel Kozlov!” Turner yelled in Russian.
The gunfire died down to an eerie silence. Whispers echoed from the hallway where the soldiers were stationed. The hushed sounds of the enemy ratcheted up the tension.
After the hushed words faded, one of the Russians responded. “Surrender, and we will let you live!”
Turner looked at Throaty and shook his head, before shouting in Russian again. “Hold your fire. I repeat, hold your fire. I will let you see him.” The Russian tried to resist as the operative pushed his head above the rusty hunk of steel they’d taken refuge behind. Kozlov tried to shout, but Turner delivered a silencing blow before he finished his first word.
“Caretaker, we’re going to light it up here, over,” Turner said into his mic.
“Copy that, Finger,” Manion responded. “About to make contact with the approaching Tangos, over.”
“Roger that. On five,” Turner said. He motioned to the hallway on the right and looked deep into Victoria Eden’s eyes. “Run like you’ve never run before and stay close,” he said in a hushed tone.
She looked down at the loose-fitting shoes she’d taken from Kozlov and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
Seconds later Turner tossed the Russian out into the open. Kozlov began to run toward his men as the operative sighted his kneecap and squeezed the trigger. The Russian screamed out in pain, his momentum taking him forward. He flopped face-first onto the concrete floor. Throaty quickly heaved a flashbang toward the enemy’s location, before advancing rapidly with the violinist in tow. The operatives would have preferred to have grenades, but the choice of gear was based on hostage extraction rather than enemy elimination. They were able to pick off two of the blinded soldiers like targets at a carnival shooting range.
Bursts of automatic gunfire rang out from Manion’s location as the three of them reached the safety of the hallway. Turner surveyed their position, and the path to their destination provided few options for cover. If their fellow operative was overrun, their chances for survival would all but disappear.
Trent exchanged an uncomfortable look with Throaty and activated his comms.
“On my way, Caretaker. Standby, over.”
He backed up into the hallway far enough for him to reach full speed by the time he emerged from cover, and sprinted off toward Brendan’s location.
Chapter 140
Shots from the Russians peppered his path as Trent Turner made his way to the other end of the massive room. Most of the enemy’s surviving force had been busy trying to bring their leader to safety.
“Caretaker, I’m on point, over?” Turner said softly into his mic. There was no response. “Repeat, Caretaker, I’m on point. Go ahead, over.”
Turner didn’t like this one bit. Radio silence could mean a lot of things, and most of them were bad. His first thoughts were that Brendan Manion’s radio had stopped working or he was hiding somewhere with the Tangos nearby. He could be down or have been caught, but that wasn’t what he sensed. He sensed something major was about to go down.
Everything happened in a split second. Turner slowly peered around a machine and found himself looking down the barrel of an MP5. Before he could blink, Manion had swooped in from behind and neutralized the Tango, his Sig Sauer TacOps 1911 pistol pressed firmly into the man’s chin. Turner’s attention immediately went to a second man, who had taken dead aim at Manion.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Manion said calmly, before shots were exchanged.
Turner noted a flicker in the eyes of the man he had lined up in his sights. His aggression had turned to confusion.
“Hold on a second there, buddy,” Manion continued as he nodded toward Turner.
The man turned his head to see the operative and slowly, deliberately lowered his weapon. His eyes darted back and forth between the two men while he tried to assess the situation.
“Fuck, man. Brendan?” one of the men said. “I thought you were dead.”
“Chill out, Jake,” Manion said calmly. The two men had known each other for practically a lifetime. “I’m going to let your boy go, okay?”
“Yeah,” Sanders responded. “Rudy, it’s cool. Don’t shoot.”
Shots flew in from behind as the four men scrambled for cover.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Manion whispered to Sanders.
He nodded toward Turner. “We’re after him,” he said flatly.
“What?”
“He’s with the fuckin’ Russians,” Sanders said. “He had something to do with the death of Senator Soller’s kid.”
Manion shook his head slowly and said, “No, Jake, you’ve got it all wrong. We’ll sort this out later.” He took a quick look behind as a few shots ricocheted around the equipment. “No time to explain now. We’re as good as dead if we don’t pull together.”
“Right,” Sanders agreed with a wry smile. “After you.”
Chapter 141
“It’s done, let’s go!” he yelled to the soldiers in Russian.
Four of the Bratva’s heavies had been guarding the server room and its contingent of hackers. The men gave Dimitri Sokov a questioning look.
“Do it,” Sokov said with the coldness and ease of a Caesar ordering the death of a failed gladiator.
The men turned to the defenseless hackers huddled to one side of the room and unloaded their weapons. The salvo gave way to Sokov’s ringing ears as the mass of bloodied bodies collapsed to the floor.
The five of them headed for the exit, leaving the carnage behind.
“We’re coming,” one of the men barked into his radio.
They carefully worked their way down the hall. It wasn’t long before they reached Pavel Kozlov and the three soldiers who were protecting him.
“Pavel, it is done,” Sokov confirmed, his cell phone clutched in his hand. “We need to take the tunnel out and blow the room.” His expression turned to panic when he noticed the Bratva boss had been shot. “Are you okay?”
Kozlov’s eyes reflected extreme pain. He was a tough bastard and managed keep his composure.
“Good, I’m fine,” he said. “I was lucky. He missed my knee.”
“You four stay behind and kill The American,” Kozlov ordered. He turned to Sokov and said, “Let’s go.”
Two of the men pulled him up and stood him on his good leg before they headed down the hallway past the server room. They shuffled through the series of doors that led to Kozlov’s office, quickly locking them behind.
“Open it,” Kozlov said harshly as he gestured to one of the bookshelves. He hobbled over to his desk and pulled a first-aid kit out of one of the drawers.