Sweating now, Brad swung the XCV-62 back through a half circle so that they could take off fast when the time came. And then, working together with practiced efficiency, he and Nadia quickly shut down the Ranger’s engines and avionics. The frozen stillness of a winter night settled once more across the clearing.
Slowly, he breathed out. His hands were shaking slightly as they dropped back into his lap. “Jesus,” he murmured. He glanced across at Nadia. Though her face still carried its usual determined look, she was paler now. “Sorry about that,” he said softly. “That landing was a little hairier than I thought it would be.”
She forced a crooked smile. “Yes, but I am sure you will get better with practice.”
Shakily, he echoed her wry expression. “Sure hope so.”
The intercom from the troop compartment buzzed. “Are you going to drop the ramp, Brad?” Ian Schofield asked. “Because my lads and I can’t do much from in here.”
“Hang on a second, Ian,” Brad answered. He unstrapped himself. Nadia did the same. “We’re coming back to you for a quick command conference.”
Bulky in their winter camouflage and body armor, Schofield and his four commandos formed a half circle around Brad and Nadia. Their weapons and gear were securely stowed along the fuselage. The five Iron Wolf troopers were poker-faced.
“By now, you’ve probably figured that we’re not back in Poland,” Brad said quietly.
“Yeah, I thought that last little hop seemed fucking short,” Sergeant Andrew Davis growled. The big man was Schofield’s senior NCO and his second in command on this mission.
“Is there a reason you’ve disregarded Major Macomber’s last orders?” Schofield asked carefully. “Because I rather thought he was clear that we were to abort the mission and get out of Russia fast.”
“Yes, he was.” Brad nodded. He bared his teeth in a tight grin. “But as the mission pilot and air commander, I have two very good reasons for altering Whack’s orders.”
Schofield’s stony expression softened a bit. “All right, I’m listening.”
“Right now the Russian air defenses are bound to be on high alert,” Brad explained. “Even if they still believe that decoy they blew to hell was us, they won’t take any chances on being wrong. Which means they’ll have fighters aloft and patrolling every egress route. Every search radar will be energized. And every SAM unit will be ready to shoot. So bolting for the border straightaway would only end up being a fast trip to nowhere.”
The Canadian nodded slowly. “I see your point.” He frowned. “But once the Russians get a better look at the remains of that MALD, they’ll know we’re still on the loose.”
“Yep,” Brad said. He shrugged. “Which could also work in our favor. Even if Gryzlov figures out his pilots were duped, the more time that passes, the more likely he’ll believe we already made it out.”
“And the more likely the Russians will be to lower their alert level,” Nadia finished for him.
“But we can’t stay on the ground here forever,” Schofield pointed out. “Once the sun comes up, we’re likely to become something of a curiosity. I imagine even the local yokels might wonder a bit at seeing a stealth aircraft parked in one of their fields.”
“Which is why it’s a darned good thing this is the winter,” Brad agreed. He checked his watch. “Right now it’s a little after zero-one-hundred hours, local time. Dawn isn’t until zero-nine-hundred hours. Depending on our flight path, we need roughly three hours of darkness left when we take off — to minimize the chances of visual detection. So, barring something unexpected, like a Russian fighter sweep that comes too close or some fitness nut who decides to go hiking after midnight, we should be able to hang out here safely for a while.”
Schofield nodded again. His eyes narrowed. “You said you had two reasons for changing the major’s orders. I’ve heard one. What’s the second?”
“Whack’s not dead. The Russians took him prisoner after he bailed out of his CID,” Brad said flatly, dropping his bombshell. The Canadian and his men had been outside, guarding the Ranger, when Nadia intercepted the enemy transmissions reporting the news.
Davis and the other commandos swore quietly, but vehemently. Like Brad, they knew what that meant for Macomber. A clean death in combat would have been a far better fate than prolonged torture and eventual execution.
Schofield, however, kept his eyes on Brad and Nadia. “Are you seriously proposing that we try to rescue him?” he asked, in disbelief. “With five soldiers and one unarmed transport aircraft?”
“I’m suggesting that we keep our options open,” Brad countered. “Look, it’s pretty clear we walked into an ambush custom-designed to capture or destroy the CIDs and their pilots, right?”
“Yes,” the Canadian agreed bleakly.
“So that means Whack is Gryzlov’s big prize,” Brad argued. “Which is why I think it’s probable that they’ll fly him straight out of here for interrogation.” He shrugged. “Once he’s in Moscow, there’s nothing we can do. But if we see an opening here—”
“The Russians will be cocky, savoring their triumph,” Nadia added persuasively. Her eyes were angry, full of barely contained shame. “They believe we are either dead or running for our lives like whipped dogs. A sudden attempt to retrieve Major Macomber is the very last thing they will expect.”
“Surprise or not, what you’re proposing is one hell of a reach, Major Rozek,” Sergeant Davis said. He jerked his chin at the Iron Wolf commandos around him. “My guys and I are good. Real good. But we’re not fricking supermen.”
Looking pained, Schofield coughed quietly.
Davis grinned. “Well, except for the captain over there. But you’ll notice he left his cape at home.”
“No one here is invincible,” Brad acknowledged. “Major Rozek and I do have a rough plan we think might work, but this enterprise is not something I’d make an order.” He smiled wryly, looking around the half circle of tough, veteran combat soldiers. “Even if I thought I could make that kind of order stick.”
“So you’re asking for volunteers?” Schofield said softly.
“I am.” Brad nodded.
Davis shook his head. “Man, Captain, you really should have a sword like Colonel Travis. That way you could scrape a line across the deck here and dare us to step across it.”
Brad laughed. “That’d be pretty dramatic, Sergeant. But this isn’t the Alamo, where some could stay and some could go. So either everybody’s in on this… or no one’s in. There’s no margin for error.”
“Are you planning to consult with President Wilk or Mr. Martindale about this plan of yours?” Schofield asked. “Using a secure link?”
“We could,” Brad said. He shrugged. “But I’m not going to. They’d only order us out.”
“Which might be the wisest course,” Schofield said.
“Probably,” Brad agreed. He looked stubborn. “But they’re not here. And we are. The way I figure it, that makes this our call.”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” Schofield said. He sighed. “Very well, Captain McLanahan, let’s hear your plan. And then my lads and I will make our decision.”
Several minutes later, the rear ramp of the Ranger whined down. Carrying their weapons and other gear, the five members of the Iron Wolf commando team moved out into the open and then disappeared into the woods — scouting southward to find concealed positions overlooking the runway at Pechora.