Teng extended his trembling hand, and Gary Davis placed a green capsule in his palm.
“Don’t worry, Teng, you’ll be OK,” Davis encouraged him. “Just focus on your part, we’ll handle the rest.”
He couldn’t bring himself to speak; he just nodded, keeping his eyes firmly stuck to the ground.
Jane Crawford stared a little at the green capsule in her hand, and then tucked it in the chest pocket of her shirt. A crooked smile fluttered for a second on Gary’s lips.
“What are you smiling about, Cheshire Cat?” Bukowsky asked Davis.
“Can you imagine all of us meeting at next year’s conference? The things that only we will know? Having survived all this?” Davis replied, still grinning, making an all-encompassing gesture with his hand.
“You’re really that sure we’ll survive all this and meet next year? C’est vrai?” Marie-Elise asked with a timid smile.
“Marie-Elise, for the first time since a fucked-up destiny brought us all here, yes, I am sure. I’m betting my life on it.”
She reached and took Gary’s hand with both hers, and Adenauer placed his hand on top of theirs. One by one, they joined hands together, as one, silently, yet the effervescence of their hope and determination sent crackles through the air like static electricity.
“Teng, you too,” Davis invited him.
Hesitantly, Teng put his hand on top of everyone’s joined hands, daring to lift his eyes from the ground. He didn’t see anyone’s glance judging or despising him; he saw everyone counting on him to do his part. He wasn’t going to let them down.
“I’m ready,” Teng said.
“All right, let’s play ball,” Gary Davis replied. “Take positions, stay focused.”
Teng locked eyes with Davis, who nodded encouragingly. He approached King Cobra and said, “I need to speak with Dr. Bogdanov. Now, please; it’s urgent.”
King Cobra grunted, then stood, shoving Teng up the steps that led to the massive door. He unlatched the door and stepped outside, speaking into his radio. Then he slammed the door behind them, locking it with a rusty squeak.
Bogdanov appeared within seconds, frowning impatiently as he approached, walking briskly on the long, curved hallway.
“What?” he snapped.
Teng kept his eyes lowered.
“Please,” he whispered, “you said you’re going to start shooting people. Please don’t start with my family, please!”
“Why the hell not?” Bogdanov shouted. “You haven’t given me anything. You’re worthless to me, and so is your family.”
“No, no, please,” Teng pleaded, feeling chills down his spine and fear prickling at his gut. “I can maybe… maybe tell you something now?”
Bogdanov waved his hand impatiently.
“They’re planning to jump the guard,” Teng continued in a low whisper. “They’re going to try to disarm him and break free.”
King Cobra scoffed, probably amused at the thought. Teng ignored him, and focused on Bogdanov.
“You shouldn’t send him alone in there,” he continued, pointing briefly at King Cobra. “They’re not as harmless as they seem, you know. One of them used to be a boxing champion. Another one is a black belt in martial arts. And they do have knives, scalpels.”
Bogdanov clenched his jaws and pursed his lips angrily, then spoke something into his radio. Static crackled for a second, then a husky voice replied in Russian.
King Cobra grabbed Teng’s arm, almost lifting him off the ground, and shoved him back into the lab. He couldn’t regain his footing at the top of the stairs and fell, rolling off the steps and landing on the dirty concrete floor. Then King Cobra disappeared, slamming and bolting the door behind him.
Adenauer, in position near the entrance, helped Teng get back on his feet and join the others, at the far end of the lab tables.
Teng signaled to them he’d done his part.
“And?” Gary Davis asked in a whisper.
“I don’t know,” Teng replied. “It should work. They spoke on the radio and left. I’m not sure, but it should work.”
…56
Alex unscrewed her canteen and gulped down a mouthful of water, after swishing it in her mouth a little, to trick her brain into thinking she drank more than that. The humid heat had let down a little after sunset, but she was still sweating profusely under all the heavy-duty clothing and weight she was carrying. Mosquitoes were an enemy force of their own, biting her viciously despite the thick layer of bug repellent cream she’d applied on every exposed inch of skin.
She refrained from slapping herself where a mosquito just stung her; afraid the slap would cause too much noise in the deathly quiet forest. The few crickets that still chirped were far away, barely audible.
Darkness worked a little in their favor, keeping them hidden as they waited, only five klicks away from the missile silo. They sat scrunched down against tree trunks near the edge of the forest, at the established rendezvous point with the contracted backup team.
She was worried their arrival might get the attention of the Russian Coast Guard, very active in that area. Lou, an artist at his special ops trade, had researched the terrain a little and had instructed them to fly in following the river, an old route for caviar smugglers, and one of the very few loopholes in Russian border defense.
A low hum at first, the sound of the approaching helo grew to slightly higher levels, as the lights of the AW101 became visible. Its rotor blades made a distinctive noise, a lower pitch and choppy, with an unexpectedly quiet whoosh. Lou turned his laser spot on, marking the center of the clearing, and then spoke into his radio.
“Inbound, inbound, this is Lima, green marks the spot. Go dark. Do you copy?”
“Copy, Lima. Ready to deploy.”
The chopper cut its lights, hovering forty feet above ground shrouded in darkness, as the mercenaries dropped to the ground on ropes. As soon as their feet touched the ground, they took off toward the edge of the forest, guided by Lou’s laser spot.
Alex turned on her night-vision goggles, and took in the unfamiliar green-hued imagery. The device had the option to use infrared on one eye, or on both. She tried it both ways, to see which was better. With both eyes, she had an eerie feeling of surreal imagery, but she had balance and depth perspective. Single-eye option gave her the benefit of infrared vision, but kept her other eye accustomed to seeing and perceiving her environment the usual way. Either case, night vision took some getting used to.
The helo lifted higher in the air and departed, turning its lights back on after a couple of seconds.
She stood, a little dazed, hoping that her brain would adjust faster to the new way to see the surroundings, and walked toward the huddled armed men. Four had already taken positions, weapons ready, covering the perimeter.
She tripped on a tree branch and almost fell. She felt a strong grip on her right arm, steadying her, helping her regain her balance.
“Fuck,” she muttered, then looked sheepishly at the man holding her arm and whispered, “I mean thanks.”
The man grinned, his teeth glistening against his camouflage-painted face.
Alex reached the group as Lou wrapped up his briefing.
“We’re five klicks from target. We’re expecting 20 to 50 hostiles, and more than 400 hostages.”
“Copy,” a man replied. “Comms?”
“We have encrypted radios patched into sat phones.”
“Weapons?”
“Tavors, handguns, CornerShot, grenades, limited ammo. We’ve been at this for a while,” Lou clarified. “We have one wounded and two civilians.”