Despite this, he was a national hero, and the helicopter pilots felt better knowing the man was there, even if Kirov did make them feel a bit uneasy. Kirov had a wild look in his eyes, that of a crazed madman, but this wild desire to pick a fight made the pilots uneasy. Kirov was tall, wide shoulders, thick build. He specialized in one thing in life, and that was killing Muj.
He was exceptional at the job.
Kirov’s AK-47 hung from his shoulder at the ready position. It were as if an extension of himself, and the man knew how to use the tool of death. Attached to him were countless magazines of ammo, a gas mask hanging uncomfortably around his neck, a strange plastic suit over his fatigues. Luckily, they wouldn’t be needing to blend in this day.
Kirov eyed Drago, almost with a look of contempt. “Captain Drago, you will remain here. Be our eyes and watch the village. You see them get close, you shoot back. We’ll come at the first sign of a fight.”
“Perhaps a few of your men could remain behind,” Drago suggested, knowing he’d feel more comfortable with a few Spetsnaz around.
“My men are not your babysitter.”
“Yes, Comrade Colonel.”
“My team will move up to the cave and then enter. You’ll wait until we return.”
“You’re going inside?” Drago asked, though by their dress, he already knew the answer.
“We are.”
“What of that chemical? Won’t it harm your men?”
“By the time we make it up there, it’ll be dispersed. These suits are only a reassurance. A safety measure is all.”
“Yes, Comrade Colonel.”
“Under your seats… there are masks. No suits, but you do have masks,” Kirov instructed.
“Should we wear them?” Drago asked, hesitant. “I thought you said they are precautionary.”
“Well, should it make you feel better, you can have them ready. Just in case.”
“Colonel, I must ask — what was that? What did we shoot into the cave?”
Kirov merely glanced his way, saying nothing.
But the Captain couldn’t help himself, uttering, “I can only assume it was a chemical weapon. The color changes… I assume they were important?” He knew it was a chemical of some sort, but what were its effects? If he’d been responsible for many deaths, he’d at least want them to have died in short order. Drago was a decent man, and opposed the use of chemicals. It didn’t fit his worldly view. Kirov was much the same — a man of honor, a man who felt the war must be won, but not in such a manner.
Drago had many questions, but held his tongue.
If the chemical was to kill the enemy, why go into the cave?
Everyone was silent, the flight crews fidgeting. Finally, as Kirov’s men neared being ready, he turned to Drago. “Unfortunately, Captain, I’m not authorized to reveal that information to you. That is a classified matter, though soon enough you’ll probably figure it out.”
“What sort of mission is this?”
“Extraction of the enemy.”
“We’ll carry them?” Drago asked.
“Some, yes. Hopefully.”
“The dead? Why?”
“Who said they’re dead, Captain?” Kirov asked.
Drago paused at this. “You did say there was no danger to your men, but who could suffer through that?”
Kirov smiled, saying, “Captain, you cannot imagine what a man can suffer through. Now, keep ready, stay close to your helicopters, stay off the radio. We’ll report if we need to move out quickly.”
“Yes, Comrade Colonel,” Drago said.
“And Captain… this is Khost. This is the most dangerous place in the world, so stay sharp.”
“Yes, Comrade Colonel.”
Kirov turned to his men. Twenty-four total including himself, hand-chosen due to their malicious behavior. These men weren’t afraid of killing. Quite the opposite, they looked forward to it.
“Ready?” Kirov asked.
“Yes, sir!” they answered in unison.
“Green team, take point. See that ridge to our right? There’s a small trail tucked away. Move up and cover us. Watch the helicopters, watch our backs. That village will be crawling soon. They’ll head our way once they figure out we’ve landed. Now, spread out. I want you ladies at that cave entrance in short order.”
All eight men nodded, moving out.
“Yellow team, vector south of the cave, follow green team up. Forty meters, no more, no less. Red team, we’ll watch their six, move in behind. Keep your distance, watch each other’s backs. Those Muj bastards are sneaky, probably a few we missed with the gas. Now move out, ladies!” Kirov commanded.
The rest took off, maneuvering across the rocky landscape and up the ragged trail. They hurried up the incline, climbing with ease, single file and aware.
Colonel Kirov remained a moment longer, double checking his own gear and staring high up, looking at the hidden cave. It wasn’t directly visible. He seemed unconcerned, almost bored at the notion. Drago felt uneasy about this; Kirov was a dangerous man.
But perhaps this mission was safe, Drago thought. Otherwise they wouldn’t dare enter the cave, or risk one of their top men.
Or would they?
Kirov remained still as a statue, standing near Captain Drago, unafraid in the hostile environment, watching his men move away. The Colonel knew the risks, of course, but he lived for this. He lived for war. And despite being alone, despite the danger, Kirov seemed exhilarated. His face showed it.
“We’ll probably take some fire. Especially once we go in. This zone is hot, and the Muj might come from all over. I have no idea how many are in that cave, but we’ll make it quick and be back,” Kirov warned Drago. It was professional courtesy that gave this warning, not care of the men, but care for the cause.
Colonel Kirov then turned, joining the last group, red team, as they made their way up the trail.
The six crewmen of the grounded Mi-24s were now alone.
17
Four KGB agents entered Mikhail’s office, joining the huddled scientists. The room was cramped, the excitement having turned to anxiety. Stage two was underway, and this was the tricky part.
These agents had stiff expressions, not a hint of amusement on their faces. They meant business, and as Mikhail looked back at them, he did not recognize the faces. That didn’t matter much, though. The KGB was always there, the KGB was always faceless. Besides, Mikhail tended to keep his distance, as did the majority of his staff. But now, as they closed in and joined the group, Mikhail again realized the implications of the project’s success. Everyone’s ass was on the line, including these men. Sure, blame would be laid, but nobody knew how wide the hammer of justice would come crashing down. There was much invested in this project, much to be lost.
One of the KGB agents pushed through the huddle. He spoke to Mikhail, saying, “Ivanovich, has it worked? Has the compound properly mixed?”
“I… I cannot know for sure,” Mikhail stammered.
“You knew the importance. You heard the news, right?”
“No.”
“A few very important men are headed this way. A few generals who will be displeased with anything but stellar results,” the agent warned.
“I… I see. Again, we needed more time.”
“Answer the question,” the agent said.
“If the reports are accurate, the chemicals have properly mixed. The compounds turned the right colors, timing seemed near instant, sounds like the triggers went off as planned.”
“What of these colors? What’s the importance?” the agent asked.
“Each represented a different part of the genetic makeup, in a generalized sense. The first chemical heightened awareness. Within moments, the enemy would have been more aware of their surroundings than ever before. The green smoke is a good sign. More importantly, the yellow smoke. This means the first two compounds mixed properly.”