For a few long minutes, nothing happened. The two men stood almost immobile, leaning against the walls of their cell. Then, slowly, they started to move, and the people watching the monitors could see them talking to each other, although they couldn’t hear what was being said.
The two men starting moving, almost in circles, around each other, while their postures changed from neutral to aggressive. Their upper bodies leaned forward, their arms held at a distance from their bodies, half-bent, ready to strike, their knees slightly flexed.
Then suddenly, violence erupted. The two men jumped at each other’s throats, trying to strangle while kicking each other. One, dressed in a dirty, blue shirt, was visibly larger than the other, and was gaining ground rapidly in the unfair fight. He slammed his opponent, who couldn’t have been more than five feet, seven inches, and 175 pounds, against the wall, then strangled him with one hand, while with the other the pummeled his stomach repeatedly. The other one’s face turned a dark shade of red, and his powerless hands tried to fight off the suffocating grip of his assailant.
“Let’s stop this,” Gary yelled, taking a few steps toward the Russian. “Bogdanov!”
One-Eye shoved his machine gun barrel into Gary’s side, forcing him to back off.
“Please, let’s stop them, we have what we need,” Adenauer pleaded.
“No,” Bodganov replied. “Let the test run its course. I have a report to write.”
…44
The hangar, buried in the side of a hill, was engulfed in thick darkness and an eerily silent atmosphere. Not a leaf moved; thick cloud cover prevented moonlight from casting any light on the ground, and the hangar stood there, barely visible even to the trained eye. Only the hangar door was accessible; the rest of the structure had been excavated into the side of the hill, making the grassy hill act as the perfect camouflage for the facility.
Two guards, busy chatting and smoking, sat huddled together on a nearby tree trunk, not paying any attention to the hangar door. By the slight bluish glare on their faces, they bunched over a mobile phone, most likely looking at pictures or playing a game. Nothing else one could do with a phone in those parts of the world; there wasn’t a cell tower for miles.
The man, dressed completely in black, knew exactly where to go. He approached the structure, sneaking silently, and opened the small access door next to the main hangar doors. He walked inside, closing the door behind him, then stopped for a while, listening.
There wasn’t a single sound coming from inside the hangar. Outside, swamp toads had resumed their concert, briefly interrupted by his arrival. Feeling comfortable with the silence, the man switched on a small LED flashlight, and allowed his eyes to become accustomed to the light.
There it was… the massive jet stood there, completely dark and immobile. The man walked around its huge landing gear, looking for the best location to place the explosives. With minimum effort, he climbed on top of one of the wheels, then inside the landing gear compartment.
He then opened the backpack he was carrying, and placed the C4 charges carefully on one of the gear struts, securing it in place with duct tape. Then he placed the timer and detonation pins, inserting the pins slowly, carefully, into the putty-like explosive.
Then he checked his watch and set the timer, allowing enough time for the cleanup team to arrive, to pick up the debris, and take it out to sea.
At that point, he switched the timer on, and watched for a few seconds how the timer counted down in red LED digits, glowing in the darkness of the landing-gear compartment.
Satisfied, he hopped off the wheel, exited the hangar, and disappeared into the night, unseen and unheard.
…45
Alex listened to the Phenom’s engines revving with a pleasant sound that seemed surreal under the circumstances. Everything looked so peaceful, so perfect, and yet, at their destination, somewhere halfway around the globe, things were bound to be drastically different.
Blake’s pilot, an old acquaintance of hers, was wrapping up his preflight, getting ready to taxi. Alex took a deep breath of crisp morning air, and climbed the five steps to board the elegant aircraft. Yep, this is it… better have it together, girl, she encouraged herself.
She’d packed her small duffel bag in a hurry, taking the bare necessities: spare socks, a sweat suit, a couple of Ts, and her toothbrush. Normally, she wouldn’t have gone anywhere without her makeup kit and hair spray, but this time she doubted any of that stuff would make a difference out there, in the depths of hostile Russia.
“Here you are,” Lou said. “Let me give you your stuff.”
He handed everyone SatSleeves.
“What are these?” Blake asked.
“This device fits on your cell phone and turns it into a satellite phone. No matter where you are, it just works. It will come in handy, believe me. Give one to your pilot,” he said, handing Blake an extra SatSleeve.
“Dylan?” Blake called.
The pilot came into the cabin.
“Alex, Sam, Lou, meet Dylan Bishop. He’s been my pilot for seven years, I think, right?”
The men shook hands. Alex simply said, “Hey, Dylan,” then added for the rest of them, “We’ve met before. He hauled me out of India one time… I owe him a big one.”
“Ah, yes, that’s right, me too!” Sam added and shook Dylan’s hand again. “Thanks for doing this; we appreciate it.”
“All right, let’s focus,” Lou said, as Dylan resumed his role in prepping the jet for takeoff. “Radios. We have encrypted, long-range radios equipped with ear buds and laryngophones, which you wear like this,” he demonstrated, putting on a collar that held a throat microphone. “These radios integrate with our cell phones. When you receive a call, you have the option to patch the call into our radio environment, and allow everyone with an encrypted receiver to hear or participate in the communication.”
“Wow,” Alex said, “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“For a lot of money, you can do anything,” Lou replied, smiling. “Weapons.”
He opened a large, khaki-colored duffel bag filled with guns, and started handing them out. “I have Tavor automatic weapons for everyone, handguns, and tactical knives. I brought tactical vests, night-vision goggles, handheld GPS, the encrypted radios I was telling you about, and survival kits that will hold us up to 72 hours.”
“What’s this other stuff?” Alex asked, seeing how there was a lot more hardware left in the duffel bag.
“Just some grenades, an AK47 for Sam, in case he misses the old days, and a CornerShot that will fit your handgun. I’ve brought some ammo too.”
“Wow… I’ve heard of these, but never used one. How does it work?” Alex took the CornerShot from Lou, examining it closely.
“It’s the best accessory to have in urban combat,” Lou said. “You attach your handgun to it like this,” he demonstrated with Alex’s Walther, after removing all its ammo, “Then you aim through this pop-out LCD screen, giving you visibility around the corner without any exposure to the enemy. When ready, you pull the trigger, also from a covered position.”