Dublowski continued the fall, turning it into a forward roll, tucking the FAMAS into his stomach. He came up to his knees firing, sending a spray of bullets into the forest, uncertain where the round had come from, as there had been no sound of a weapon firing.
Two seconds later, as the bolt slammed home on an empty chamber, he dove to the left, pulling a fresh magazine out of the cargo pocket of his fatigue pants. The woods still echoed with the sound of his firing as he slammed the fresh magazine home.
His body was tensed, expecting a bullet at any moment. His eyes darted back and forth, hoping he'd spot the muzzle flash and survive long enough to return fire.
Nothing.
He heard voices, men moving through the forest. The training patrol was returning, investigating. Dublowski lowered his weapon and reached up. His fingers probed the tear in his scalp. Another inch lower and his brains would have been splattered all over the forest floor.
"Son-of-a-bitch," Dublowski muttered as he looked at his blood-covered hand.
Chapter Twenty-five
That’s Akil in the right front of the lead vehicle." Mikael offered the binoculars to Thorpe. "We can get two for the price of one."
Thorpe adjusted the focus. Three Land Rovers were pulling up to the gate of the army compound. Each had four men inside. He could see the occupants in the glow of the large lights highlighting the gate. Dawn was still a couple of hours away.
"He's brought some muscle," Thorpe noted.
Their van was parked on a dirt road on the side of a hill overlooking the entrance to the Ukrainian army camp. The other two vans carrying the rest of Mikael's team were hidden on the other side of the hill, awaiting orders.
"What's the plan?" Thorpe asked as the two Land Rovers pulled up to a large building. Thorpe watched through the binoculars as Akil jumped out, arms gesturing, giving orders.
The door to the building opened and two men walked out to greet Akil.
"Jawhar is on the left," Mikael said. "Colonel Kostenka on the right."
Thorpe adjusted the focus and zeroed in on Jawhar's face. Even at this distance, over two thousands meters, the blue eyes showed clearly through the lens. Thorpe remembered the girl on the bed in the hotel room in town. Jawhar was smiling as he greeted his brother with a hug.
"I need him alive," Thorpe said.
"Our priority is to stop the VZ transfer," Mikael said.
"He's holding the daughter of a friend of mine captive," Thorpe reminded Mikael.
"What is one life against thousands?" Mikael asked. He lowered the boom mike on the headset he wore and rattled off some orders in Hebrew. Then he sat on the floor of the van and pulled out a map. "The plan? Here." His finger stabbed a point on the map. "They will drive from the compound to the airfield where Jawhar left his plane. We will ambush them here on the road. I've already sent the other two vans to the site. Both will block the road in front. We will be following and block from the rear. We will kill everyone—everyone," he emphasized to Thorpe. "We will rig the VZ with timed charges on thermite grenades. The heat will destroy the agent as we make our escape along this route." His finger traced a winding road through the hills.
"Our emergency rally point is here, five kilometers from the kill zone," Mikael continued. "There are two cars there, money, petrol, weapons. From there we will go to an extraction pick-up zone — here — to meet a helicopter to take us home. Anything goes wrong, you head directly to the extraction point. Questions?"
"If there is any way we capture either Akil or Jawhar—" Thorpe began, but Mikael sliced a hand down in front of his face, cutting him off.
"We kill everyone. We can take no chances. Your friend's daughter is not here. Even if you capture one of the brothers, which would be difficult, and he tells you where Nabi Ulmalhamah is — which he wouldn't — it still is not here. And it is not as important as the VZ."
One of the men in the front called back to them in Hebrew. Mikael hopped to his feet and looked through the binoculars. "They're loading."
Thorpe pressed up against the eyepieces of the second set of binoculars. The men were coming out of the building.
"The metal briefcases," Mikael said. "That's the VZ."
Thorpe counted six briefcases, two going into each Land Rover. Colonel Kostenka stood on the steps of the building as the convoy headed for the gate.
"There is enough in each of those cases to kill tens of thousands," Mikael said. "We must account for every single case. Do you understand?"
Thorpe nodded.
"Let's go," Mikael ordered. He pulled aside the curtain between them and the front of the van.
The drive down the hill to the road was harrowing, as the driver kept the lights of the van off. Thorpe knew the driver could see clearly, as he was wearing night-vision goggles, but not having a set himself, it was eerie to hurtle through the darkness as such high speeds. They reached the paved road and turned in the direction the convoy had gone.
"Eight miles to the kill zone," Mikael informed Thorpe.
The van rushed through the night. All Thorpe had was the impression of the blacker road flashing, trees on either side corralling them in. Thorpe felt like he was hurtling down a dark tunnel, out of control, his fate being decided for him. It was a feeling he'd had before on military operations, but never before so strongly.
A flash of red appeared ahead.
"Easy," Mikael was leaning forward next to the driver. "That's the last vehicle in the convoy."
The van slowed slightly. They kept far enough back to keep the taillights in sight every so often as they hit a straight stretch of road.
"How far?" Mikael asked the driver.
"Another mile."
Thorpe gripped the AK-74 tightly.
"Shit!" Mikael exclaimed as the brake lights glared on the Land Rover.
The van slowed as the driver tried to maintain the distance.
The lights suddenly disappeared.
"Speed up!" Mikael ordered.
"No!" the driver exclaimed. "They've stopped! Two hundred meters ahead."
Thorpe looked at Mikael. He knew a decision had to be made now.
"Have they seen us?" Mikael asked the driver, who had slowed them to a crawl.
"I don't know. The Land Rover is just—"
The question was answered more directly as a string of green tracers ripped through the darkness just above the van, then getting the range and smashing into the windshield. A round blew the top of the driver's head off, spraying Thorpe and Mikael with blood and brain.
Thorpe dove to the floor as tracers cut through above him, punching out the back of the van. He felt Mikael next to him.
The van was still moving, the driver's dead foot resting on the gas pedal, bringing them closer to the ambush. The van drifted right as more bullets sprayed it, killing the man in the right front as he tried to bring his weapon up. The van rolled off the road and the front end smashed into a tree, bringing it to an abrupt halt.
Thorpe rolled with the impact, sliding up against the front seats, Mikael on top of him. The Mossad agent slid off, reaching up and pulling open the side door and rolling out of the van, Thorpe following. The firing had stopped, a still silence disconcerting after the gunfire.
They ran into the cover of the trees, halting twenty meters from the van, weapons at the ready. Thorpe heard the sound of an engine starting. The Land Rover was leaving. He ran forward to the road. Mikael sprinted past him, peered in the van, saw the other two men were dead, then looked up the road.
"Come on!" Mikael grabbed him by the arm and they ran after the truck. "They'll hit the ambush in less than a mile."