Maksimenko. I would sleep much better if the Russians accidentally downed your airplane like they did with one of our civilian jets a few years ago. They would do us the favor of getting the earth rid of our country’s worst scum, led by my Service’s biggest idiot. However, to justify the costs of sending you there I must give you at least a slight chance to succeed.
The documents obtained by Strelok in Lab X-18 two years ago were incomplete. However, I know that missing parts refer to a facility maintained in Afghanistan during the war, evacuated when Operation Magistral failed. Its code was X-1 and the research leader was Professor Chubko. We cannot exclude the possibility that Strelok has handed that intel to Tarasov or, what would be worse, the Americans. You better hope that he will show up there. The current state of that facility is unknown. Location coordinates are 35°16′44.22″ N and 69°28′48.92″ E.
If you manage to stop Tarasov by whatever means necessary, maybe I’ll grease the wheels where I can to prevent you from punitive discharge — and worse.
The Captain’s thoughts move back to his last assignment in the Exclusion Zone. Acting on orders of Kruchelnikov, he led a search group on a thorough investigation into the activities at the Agroprom Research Institute back in May 2012, code named Project Truth. It revealed that the Institute was in fact a front for clandestine research conducted in the Exclusion Zone. However, further investigation was blocked by Lab X-18 being inaccessible at that time. Acting on a tip-off by Zone trader Sidorovich, the military launched a frantic operation to intercept Strelok who managed to find a way into the vaults, but he blasted his way through the Spetsnaz commando and escaped with any information he found there.
Recalling his successful mission puts the Captain in a somewhat better mood. It now appears to him that the sinister story behind the secret laboratories continues after being bogged down for two frustratingly long years.
They started experiments in Afghanistan. When the war was lost, they moved to the Exclusion Zone to carry on the research in all secrecy. Lab X-18 was the missing link. Now the circle is complete — I will not only settle scores with Tarasov but also bring Project Truth to its conclusion. It will be more than enough to redeem myself.
“Thinking of your girlfriend, eh? I guess she’s a tasty little dish!”
Maksimenko stirs. “What?”
He glances at the Spetsnaz who grins at him from the opposite side of the cabin. He is a tall and brawny man with a look on his face that betrays a knack for violence. Sergeant Vlasov sits next, keeping a weary eye on him.
The Captain quickly looks into the personal files with the photographs. The disrespectful soldier is the private who, according to his file, had raped a nurse in an ambulance before beating her unconscious and setting the car on fire to conceal the crime as an accident. Maksimenko feels nausea stirring up in his guts and not because of a sudden turbulence.
“What’s your problem, Bronsky?”
“You looked gloomy, komandir. Now you smile. Maybe she is smiling too with some lucky guys banging her, while you fly with us to the hell on earth!”
Bronsky laughs, but his laughter is cut short by Sergeant Vlasov’s elbow hitting him in his cardia. The private groans and would fall to the floor if the safety belt wasn’t holding him tight.
“Have more respect to your superior, maggot,” Vlasov says.
A crew member appears from the cockpit with the radio headset still on his head. He takes it off and gives it to Captain Maksimenko.
“Kiev is asking for you, captain.”
Maksimenko follows him to the cramped cockpit where the radioman plugs the headset back in.
“Maksimenko here.”
The captain’s guts knot themselves when he hears Colonel Kruchelnikov’s voice in the headphones.
“Captain, it appears to be your lucky day after all. You have a new secondary objective.”
“I’m listening, tovarishu polkovnik.”
“Finally, we learned from an undercover asset what the criminal gangs in the Exclusion Zone were up to all the time. A large number of them left this morning for the New Zone. The air force was standing by to shoot them down but the criminals used Belarusian helicopters, which we couldn’t touch. Luckily for us, the asset has managed to inform us about their destination. Do you copy?”
“Clear, sir.”
“They will use two An-12 transport airplanes, armed, using fake Belarusian commercial radar signs. Normally, the Russians would dispose of them quickly in their own airspace or over Kazakhstan, but Moscow has rejected our request to intercept them. The Uzbeks could do the job as well but as you know, the situation is getting out of control there.”
“Yes, sir. I heard there was an emission or something like that that swapped over from the New Zone.”
“You have two things to do. First, when arriving in Termez, do not play the hero. You are explicitly forbidden to get involved. Clear?”
“Clear, sir.”
“Second, you have a new destination in the New Zone. The helicopter waiting for you at AFB Termez will take you to the proximity of an abandoned airstrip at Charikhar, north of Bagram. According to our asset, the two Antonovs are heading there. You will reckon the place and do as much damage as you can to the Bandits and their airplanes. We don’t want them to set up regular flights between here and the New Zone.”
Of course you don’t, Maksimenko thinks. That would ruin your lucrative artifact and weapon trade in the Exclusion Zone, you bastard.
“Understood,” he replies. “Any intel on the Bandits’ strength?”
“Two to three hundred, so you’d better get there before they land and hit them before they can deploy.”
Maksimenko frowns. “With a team of nine?”
“Making good on a big time failure requires big time heroism, Captain.” Hearing this, Maksimenko can well imagine the cynical grin on the Colonel’s face. “Be resourceful. If you get there quickly, you’ll have the advantage of surprise.”
“Can we count on air support?”
“God Almighty might send you angels if you pray. Everything else is a negative. Count yourself lucky that we could arrange that Mi-17 to get you there. When done with the airfield, move to your primary objective. Questions?”
“All clear, sir.”
“Good hunting. Out.”
72
The main terminal of Minsk International Airport resembles a broken half of a cogwheel where the six gates of the semi-circular terminal would be the sprockets. Not much can be seen from the impressive building from the cargo area where the three giant helicopters have landed; two Antonov AN-12BP transport aircraft, being prepared for flight, block the view of the Bandits who were ushered out to the tarmac after the short flight and now wait for instructions in the cold sleet.
The men share cigarettes and vodka bottles but the cold keeps creeping under the skin. Their cheerful spirit is gone.
Exhausted from spending the last night without a moment of sleep, Tarasov, Hartman and Pete feel the cold even more than the others. Tarasov is tempted to join the chatting men around them, spending the idle minutes until their trip continues with swearing over the cold and Sultan’s Belarusian ‘partners’ who make them wait in the freezing weather.
He waves Ferret and Buryat over to him and can’t suppress a smile while they approach. Although the two men had belonged to warring factions and constantly tease each other, they appear like cup and can.