‘We can’t stop!’ she replied, pointing her gun at the co-pilot and gesturing for him to reapply power. He looked helplessly at his commander for advice, but the older man’s eyes were clenched shut in pain. With no choice, he grudgingly opened three of the throttles again, leaving the damaged engine at idle.
Eddie’s voice sounded in Nina’s headphones. ‘What the fuck was that? Did we hit something?’
‘We’re experiencing turbulence,’ said Nina. She looked back at Kagan. ‘Have you gotten through to your bosses yet?’
‘I am… on hold,’ he admitted, slightly sheepish.
‘Oh, great!’ She looked ahead once more. The Bear was approaching a parked line of its sister aircraft, beyond them several of the threatening stiletto jet bombers she had seen on arriving. In the distance, but drawing ever closer, were bright lights marking the end of the taxiway. A glance through the side windows revealed jeeps still keeping pace with the aircraft, but after what had happened to their comrade’s vehicle, the drivers were not inclined to play roadblock. ‘Eddie, we’re going to run out of runway soon. Are there any more of them chasing us?’
In the tailgunner’s compartment, Eddie saw another clutch of vehicles coming from the airbase’s main buildings. ‘They’ve sent out everything short of the fucking bin lorry. What’s happening with Kagan?’
‘He’s still waiting.’
‘What, have they put him on hold?’
‘Ah… actually, yes.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! How long before we reach the end of the taxiway?’
‘A minute, maybe?’
‘Shit.’ He surveyed the view behind the bomber again. The tracked vehicle had now apparently picked up Slavin and was tearing across the open ground in pursuit, headlights glaring. The long main runway ran parallel to their current route, stretching away into the distance. ‘Okay, tell ’em to turn on to the runway — we’ve got to keep moving for as long as we can. But we need some way to hold ’em off…’
The first of the parked bombers swept past. He grinned, and swung the gunsight around. The cannons followed his movement. ‘Did you just cackle?’ Nina asked.
‘Remembered my training,’ he replied, lining up the sight and pushing the red button.
The guns blazed again, even the headphones doing little to muffle the din. But Eddie didn’t care, walking the line of fire along the rank of bombers. A stream of 23mm rounds blasted holes in the fuselages of the stationary Tu-95s, aluminium shreds scattering like confetti.
‘Chase!’ demanded Kagan. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Keeping ’em busy!’ he shouted back over the noise. ‘Don’t worry, a friend of mine once told me Russian planes are easy to fix.’ The bulbous radar dome beneath the chin of one of the Bears disintegrated as he concentrated his fire upon it. ‘Bit of work with the tin snips and a hammer, that’ll knock right out.’
‘Chase!’
‘Just talk to your fucking bosses, all right?’ He switched his aim to the Tu-95’s forward landing gear. The leg collapsed under the onslaught. The Bear’s front end dropped to the ground, the fuselage smashing flat like a dropped egg and breaking the aircraft’s back.
Most of the more distant pursuers abruptly slowed. The message had got through: back off or I take out your entire fleet. The UAZs hounding the hijacked Tupolev came back into view, veering away. Eddie stopped firing. Turning the AM-23s on them would result in a massacre, and he had no enmity towards the base personnel.
More bombers rolled past, the old turboprop behemoths followed by newer and even larger swing-wing Tu-160 jets. Eddie was sorely tempted to put a few dozen explosive rounds into each to make life easier for NATO, but held his fire; even if they survived long enough for Kagan’s superiors to call off the hunt, they were already in enough trouble with the Russian government — and diplomatic immunity would only extend so far.
Eddie’s voice came through Nina’s headphones. ‘They’ve pulled back.’
‘Good,’ she replied, looking ahead. ‘We’re almost out of road!’ The end of the long concrete taxiway was now only a few hundred yards away. She gestured with the gun for the co-pilot to follow a connecting lane around to the main runway. The Tupolev swung on to its new course, the nosewheel tyres squealing in protest at the fast turn.
Kagan spoke in urgent Russian, briefly holding a hand over his microphone to say to Nina, ‘I am through,’ before continuing.
‘Thank God,’ she replied. ‘Eddie, Kagan’s got through to his bosses.’
‘Great,’ he said. ‘Let’s hope they don’t get put on hold when they try to call the base!’
The pilot gasped in pain. Nina saw blood spreading across his shirt. She searched for some way to help him. A white box marked with a red cross was attached to one of the sickly green-painted cabin walls. ‘Tova, do you know first aid?’ The Swede nodded. ‘Grab that and see if you can help him. I’ll make sure nobody tries anything stupid.’
Tova collected the medical kit and came into the cockpit. The co-pilot appeared briefly confused that his hijackers were also willing to help his injured comrade, but turned his attention back to the view outside as the Bear approached the main runway. ‘Go on to it,’ Nina told him, accompanying the command with a hand signal. He worked the controls to turn the bomber. ‘Kagan, what’s happening?’
‘I have told them about Slavin,’ he replied. ‘They are going to tell the base commander to cancel the shoot-on-sight order and hold everyone until the truth can be determined.’
‘How long will that take?’ The base’s main runway, almost two miles long, swung into sight ahead.
‘Not long — Unit 201 has a high—’
The Bear shuddered as its flank was hammered by a series of explosive impacts.
Holes ripped open in the fuselage. The communications officer was practically cut in half by shrieking metal, his blood splattering the back end of the cabin as shrapnel tore through him.
‘Holy shit!’ Nina yelled as she crouched. ‘What the hell was that?’
The co-pilot screamed into his headset. Nina didn’t need to understand his language to know that he was begging whoever was firing on the bomber to stop. It had no effect, another fusillade hitting the wing. Black smoke belched from the outermost engine nacelle.
Astern, Eddie swore as he shoved the gunsight as far over as it would go, but to no avail — the Tu-95’s turn had put their attacker out of sight. But he knew what it was — and who. ‘It’s Slavin!’
The Russian officer had commandeered a ZSU-23-4 — a tank-like anti-aircraft system armed with four 23mm autocannons much like those the Englishman was controlling. In his desperation, he was willing to destroy the entire aircraft to silence anyone who could expose his treachery. The guns would cut the Bear to pieces — and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.
Unless…
More pounding blows shook the bomber. Eddie twisted to look through a small side porthole, glimpsing the ZSU under the port wing. ‘Go! Full power, get us moving!’ he shouted into his headset.
‘We will never be able to take off!’ Kagan protested.
‘I don’t want to take off — I want to get past him so I can fucking shoot back!’
In the cockpit, the Russian urgently relayed the order to the co-pilot. The man hesitated, but more explosive rounds shredding the side of the fuselage immediately erased his doubts. He pushed all the throttles to maximum power.
The wounded Bear surged forward. The trail of smoke from the damaged engine was joined by flames — then an explosion ripped open the nacelle.