Moshenko stepped closer, saying, “I will be going with you.”
“Can’t let that happen, Grigori. You’ve got your responsibilities,” he said, tilting his head toward the two Russians, who were sitting on the concrete, their cheeks bulging with food.
“Loaded, sir,” Moore said handing Grant the rifle.
“Here, Grigori, take this.”
“I have my Makarov. But you… ”
“I’ve got enough fire power; don’t worry. Look, when we go, you and the comrades better get off this roof and take shelter in one of the second floor rooms. Did they search the building at any time?”
Moshenko nodded. “Yes. We heard them. I do not understand why they did not search more for us, especially with the helicopter in the compound.”
Grant considered that for a moment. “Can’t be sure, Grigori, but even though those men are Mafia, from what I know about them, most are ‘street’ people. The only markings on the helo is the red star and apparently, they never got a chance to see you or your uniform. Nothing to think about right now, except you can consider yourself lucky, huh?” he winked.
“I would still like to work with you, Grant.”
“I know, I know, and you still may.”
“Tell me,” Moshenko replied with enthusiasm, as he stood taller.
“Your chopper… it may come in handy. How’s your fuel supply?”
“We flew off the Leningrad, so the distance was not long. The fuel is good.”
Ending that part of the conversation, Grant pressed the PTT. “Ray.”
Moore backed away from the edge then stood next to Grant. “Sir?”
“Anything to report?”
“Not much happening now. It appears they finished loading canisters on one of the flatbeds.”
“Right out of the dig site?” Grant asked incredulously.
“Yes, sir. Right from the tunnel.”
“Christ! Did you see anything else?”
“Negative. Everything on the trucks is covered with tarps.”
Moore caught Simpson and Cranston frantically waving at him. He grabbed Grant’s sleeve and pointed. “Sir!”
Grant spun around. He and Moore immediately took off. Laying on their bellies, they crabbed their way forward, trying to get as close as possible to the edge.
Simpson was pointing rapidly toward a small truck, parked next to the hangar. He whispered, “See, sir? See? It’s the EOD guys! All of ‘em!”
Grant shook his head slowly, while a smile of relief spread across his face, the tension deep in his belly suddenly gone. But now, whatever plans they had for any kind of rescue had just changed. They all continued watching, half relieved, half worried, as the men were being forced into the bed of the truck, while several guards stood close by. There was no way to tell what the plan was, or where they were being taken. He tapped Moore on the back, signaling a retreat.
Moshenko had waited until they gathered near him, not knowing what to expect. “What is it, Grant?”
“It’s Joe and his men, Grigori. They’re okay.”
Moshenko grabbed both of Grant’s arms, shaking them and him. “Good news! Good news!”
“Yeah, but we’ve gotta move. Grigori, get the comrades.” Moshenko rushed to the two civilians.
Grant turned to his men. “Paul, go back and keep your eye on what’s going on as long as you can. See if there are any other vehicles, if those bastards are staying together or splitting up. Go!”
Moshenko walked close to Grant. “You have something in mind, don’t you?”
Grant stared into Moshenko’s dark eyes, then waved Moore over to him. “Ray, hand me a couple of those pencil flares.”
Moore handed them to Grant and asked, “What’s the plan, sir?”
“Vince and I’ll work our way outside and… ”
“Sir, you can’t be serious.” Even as he made the statement, Moore knew protesting wasn’t going to help.
“There’re too many of them for us to try to take out, and those canisters are a whole other issue,” Grant answered.
“What are our orders, sir?”
Grant was working fast. He checked his .45, slipped it back in his waistband, then motioned for Russo. Turning back to Moore, he said, “Once our truck is out of sight, you stop that last truck. Don’t let it outta here. G2 whoever’s onboard; find out where they’re going. I know it won’t be easy, Ray, not knowing the language, but… ”
“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll manage!”
“And you’re gonna have to find any other hostages, then, you make contact with that guy in the AFN building. Have him call Naples, or better still, call the admiral.”
“And just what am I supposed to tell him, sir?”
Grant’s brown eyes narrowed, staring straight into Moore’s eyes. “Is that an attitude I hear, senior chief?”
“Uh, no, sir; no, sir.”
“You tell him exactly what’s happened!” He picked up the Uzi and slung it over his shoulder.
“Sir, how are we gonna contact you? We’ve gotta know where you are.”
“Vince, you got the radio?”
“Yes, sir.” He tapped the front of his shirt.
“You, Ray?”
“Simpson has it, sir.”
“And Ray, keep the GPS handy.”
“Aye, sir.”
Grant stared at Moore, almost as if he wasn’t even seeing him, before he said, “Ray, I don’t know what they’ve got planned or where the hell they’re going.” He wasn’t accustomed to uncertainty. It gnawed at his insides.
“It’ll work, sir,” Moore said reassuringly.
Practically ignoring the response, Grant looked back at Moshenko. “Grigori, you’re going to have to stand by, okay?” Moshenko nodded. “You go down to the second floor and get in one of the rooms. Ray will come for you when it’s clear.”
Grant pulled his cap down closer to his eyes. “Ray, get Paul.” Grant hardly took a breath, when Cranston reported back.
“Paul, any changes down there?”
“Not much, sir. There’s still a light down in the tunnel. Two men just climbed out. They were carrying something, but couldn’t tell what.”
Grant kept walking towards the vent. “What about EOD?”
“Still in the truck. Three guards climbed in with them.”
“That’ll be our objective, Vince. Listen, you talk when you have to, but keep it simple, understood?”
“Yes, sir, understood.”
“Any indication which one might be the leader, Paul?”
“One guy’s been standing near the dig. He’s got an Uzi. He’s been there the whole time we’ve been watching. And he appears to have two very large bodyguards stickin’ real close.”
“Describe him,” Grant said as he was handing his Uzi down to Moshenko.
“Average height, large body, half bald with hair around the sides; wearing dark jacket and pants. One more thing, sir.”
“Speak,” Grant said.
“That guy and his two bodyguards got into a four-door Fiat at the head of the caravan.”
“Guess he needs special treatment,” Grant scoffed as walked to the vent. Standing at the edge of the opening, Grant turned to Moore. “If you don’t hear from me in fifteen minutes after the truck pulls out, you do what you’ve gotta do.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me, Ray.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Grant turned away, lowered himself through the vent opening, and held onto the sides momentarily. Not hearing any sounds below, he dropped to the floor. One by one the SEALs followed.