Maybe he’s right.
Bastard.
He turns and nods to Salikov, who runs over to the MIM-23s and starts the activation process. The loud whirring of machinery sounds throughout the deserted compound as the SAM sites configure themselves and move into position, preparing to take aim.
The airstrike will be close. The squadron of jets will be zooming toward us right now at nearly sixteen hundred miles per hour, which means in less than ten minutes, those F-22s will be going down in flames. I have to find a way of warning Josh. But as things stand, like Clara pointed out, I’m helpless.
“How are your SAM sites going to target the F-22s?” I ask, trying to focus. “They’re stealth fighters.”
“Adrian Hell,” says Ketranovich in a patronizing tone. “You worry too much and know too little. Our low-frequency radar easily bypasses the stealth capabilities of your fighter jets. Now come — we have much to discuss, and such little time.”
He laughs out loud at nothing in particular and walks off toward the concrete bunker with the metal door. Natalia turns to follow him, but stops in her tracks. She looks back at me, then turns and walks toward me. She stands in front of me, fixing me with her trademark evil death gaze of hatred and contempt. I figure I should say something to antagonize her, but I don’t get the chance. She plants a straight right fist squarely on my jaw. She’s only a slight little thing, but she has some force behind her punches. I rock backward, momentarily losing my balance and eventually dropping to one knee. I shake my head in a gesture to clear the cobwebs and look up at her. She has a wicked smile on her face. She holds my gaze for a moment longer, then turns back and follows Ketranovich.
I stand up and look at Clara.
“So, everything was a lie?” I ask. “You were playing me from day one?”
She smiles. “Don’t take it too personally,” she replies. “You’re not the first person I’ve manipulated, and you won’t be the last. Everything was going exactly to plan until that idiot Pellaggio brought you in to kill Jackson. Once we knew of your involvement, our plans had to change drastically. We needed to keep a close eye on you, so you didn’t screw things up any more than you already had.”
She prods me in the back with her gun, and we both set off after the others. I can still hear Salikov behind me, fiddling with the controls for the SAM sites.
I sigh. I’ve been played. Spectacularly. I’m angry with myself for not realizing it before. I should’ve spotted it days ago, but my emotions blinded me. Something I’ve spent half my life training not to do…
Goddammit!
I push those thoughts out of my head. The only thing that matters now is stopping Dark Rain doing whatever they’re planning to do… Then I’ll look at getting my revenge.
We enter the main bunker. Inside is a large, open plan maze of walkways and pipe work and containers, all dimly lit by the lights overhead. Ahead of us is a narrow, metal stairwell that descends down into the bowels of the bunker. We walk down six flights of stairs before emerging into a long, much brighter corridor. The walls are old brick, mottled with damp patches — the result of years of neglect. Cobwebs and pipes line the top of the walls, both attached to the ceiling, which has fluorescent lights flickering and buzzing all the way along.
At the far end is a set of doors, which are a lot newer than their surroundings. Ketranovich and Natalia have just gone through them as Clara and I approach.
“So is this your little command center?” I ask, as we make our way toward the doors.
“You’ll see,” she replies with a smirk.
With her gun in my back, I push open the doors and walk into a large, circular room full of computers and large monitors. The room seems to be some kind of hub for the entire underground network beneath the compound. There are three doors leading off to other rooms — one across from where I’m standing, and one on either side, like points on a compass.
There are two men sitting at a bank of computers in the middle of the room, working feverishly on their keyboards. Ketranovich is standing over one of them, looking at his screen. Natalia is a short distance away, staring daggers at me.
Or is she staring at Clara?
Hmmm, I can’t be sure, but it looked for a brief moment like she flicked her evil gaze over to Clara momentarily.
Interesting. And duly noted.
Ketranovich looks over at me as I enter.
“Welcome to Dark Rain, Adrian Hell,” he says, gesturing to the large, empty room and smiling.
“Oooo, I’m impressed,” I reply, sarcastically. Josh would be proud.
Clara hits me on the back of my head with her elbow. It wasn’t too hard, just a little tap to tell me to stop being cheeky, I think.
“Everything will soon become painfully clear,” says Ketranovich, cryptically.
He turns back to the two men at the computers and starts chattering away to them in Russian. I turn to face Clara.
“Okay, so, forgive me if this is a stupid question, but where is everyone? I thought you guys numbered in the thousands?”
She smiles that smile people show when they know something you don’t and want to rub your face in it.
“Patience, Adrian. All shall be revealed.”
I really don’t like not knowing what’s going on, and this entire situation is getting weirder by the second. I also don’t like being helpless, and right now I can’t do anything besides stand and watch with my thumb up my ass as three fighter jets are about to get blown to bits…
Behind me, the doors open and Salikov walks in, heading straight over to Ketranovich. He whispers something to him, and the Colonel smiles.
“Excellent news,” he says. “You have done well, Comrade.” He turns to me. “We are ready,” he announces, gesturing to a huge monitor on the right hand wall that suddenly flickers into life, revealing a large radar screen and a topographical view of the compound and surrounding area. “As you can see, we’ve just picked up your F-22s on radar, about twenty-five miles away. As you know, they’re on their way here to drop many bombs on us, to wipe the nasty terrorists off the face of the earth!”
He bursts out laughing, prompting Clara and the Salikovs to do the same.
My God, this is excruciating to watch. Not just because of how smug these Russian bastards are, but because they’re forcing me to watch innocent soldiers die in someone else’s war.
“Missiles are primed and ready for launch,” says one of the men at the computers. “Targets will be in range in thirty seconds.”
I turn to Clara. “How did you even know about the airstrike?” I ask.
“I spoke to Robert Clark just before he spoke to your annoying British friend and he told me,” she replies with a casual shrug.
I shake my head in disbelief. She managed to get everyone believing she wasn’t a deceptive piece of shit, not just me. That’s a small comfort, I guess.
“Arm the SAMs,” says Ketranovich. “Let the American death machines work their ironic magic!”
The other man taps away on his keyboard for a moment.
“Missiles armed and locking on, sir. Firing in ten seconds,” he confirms.
I instinctively move to take a step toward them, but I feel the barrel of Clara’s gun on the back of my head, and I restrain myself. I raise my hands slightly in frustrated resignation.
I look up as I hear the faint whooshing sound of the first Hawk missile launching, quickly followed by the second and third.
Shit, I’m too late!
On the radar screen, I can see the small red objects on the left gradually approaching the three small green images of aircraft coming over from the right.
“You bastards!” I yell, the anger rising inside me. “Call them off!”