“Ghost Lead, it’s Schleck. Riggs and I are down in the tunnel. We found Schoolie, sir.”
“I can see that,” Brent answered, checking their camera broadcasts in his HUD.
“She was here, all right. They’ve set up some cameras, so we’re being watched right now. Voeckler called me, and he’s already on his way. He’ll jam the cameras and clear the path, sir.”
“Roger that, get him on it. In the meantime, I need some fire on those Badgers blocking my way. Daugherty? Copeland? Talk to me.”
The boy was at Chopra’s side, holding his hand now, as the medic tried to bring the old man back to consciousness. Chopra lay on his back, still unmoving, his chest barely rising and falling.
Unable to stand the frustration any longer, the Snow Maiden grabbed the boy’s wrist and dragged him up and away, moving toward the scanner. “If you’re a living key, then open the gate.”
She slapped the boy’s palm on the reader.
“Identity not recognized,” came the computer’s voice.
She glowered at him. “Were you lying?”
The boy repositioned his palm on the reader. “No,” he said. “But I told you, I don’t have access to the vault, only to the computers inside. Chopra’s the only one who can get us in there. I told you that!”
With a pair of keystrokes on the touchpad, the Snow Maiden reset the reader. “Try it one more time.”
He did. Nothing.
She cursed, then shifted away from him back toward the medic. “Lift him up. I need his hand on that scanner right now!”
“Not good to move him!”
“Lift him up!”
Chen Yi rushed over to the soldier monitoring the surveillance cameras, then came back to the Snow Maiden. “They’ve jammed the cameras. They’re coming.”
They propped the unconscious Chopra up and dragged him to the scanner, and the Snow Maiden worked his palm.
But then Chopra began to wake up. He lifted his head and glanced over at the Snow Maiden, and in that moment, as the computer sensed his consciousness, the gate began to slide open on heavy rollers.
Not three seconds later, he fainted again.
“You can’t get into the vault,” said Hussein. “Unless he wakes up.”
“Come on, you old bastard,” she muttered to him in Russian. “Just one more door.”
“Sir, if you draw any closer, they’ll hit you with the microwave. Don’t do it, sir,” said Daugherty.
“Roger that,” answered Brent, and then he regarded Lakota. “We’re getting out.” He tapped Juma on the shoulder. “Tell your driver to stay here for now. Radio the rest of your troops. Tell them to fall back on the Almas Tower. The Euros landed north to divert your people away. Pretty simple diversion, so let’s bring ’em all back here.”
“I agree, Brent,” said Juma.
Brent and Lakota hopped out of the SUV and crossed to the tailgate, where several hard cases containing more Javelin missiles had been stored. The militiaman who’d taken down the chopper was wide-eyed and breathless, still overjoyed by his excellent shot and ready to fire again. Brent and Lakota would oblige him.
“Captain, I’ve got some news for you,” began Copeland.
“Not now,” snapped Brent. “I’ll be right with you.”
“I think you need to see this,” insisted Copeland.
Before Brent could refocus his attention on his HUD, twin flashes of light came from across the canal, from somewhere along the main highway south of the bridge.
And then he saw them: two missiles arcing high in the sky and suddenly dropping straight down toward the pair of Badgers on the other side of the bridge.
Lakota was swearing in surprise as the missiles struck a one-two punch to the armored vehicles, both of which lifted off the ground and blew apart, as though they’d been detonated from within.
“Cavalry’s arrived,” she said, now dumbfounded.
Secondary explosions lifted more debris in the air as the popcorn popping of ammo cooking off rose through the echoing booms.
More pieces of the Badgers rocketed back up through the smoke trails left by the missiles, and Brent waved a fist in the air and turned toward the origin of the fire.
It seemed Grey had somehow cut through the jamming and had called in the reinforcements — or Juma had yet another surprise up his warlord’s sleeve.
“Thank you, whoever you are.” Brent zoomed in and saw a convoy of six armored vehicles, BTR-12 Cockroaches, along with a man standing in the turret-top cupola of a T-100 Ogre tank rumbling in the lead.
Brent’s jaw went slack.
“Ghost Lead, are you there?” called Copeland. “They just took out the Badgers, but they’re heading our way.”
Brent turned toward Lakota, and she said the name before he could:
“Haussler.”
TWENTY-THREE
Brent zoomed in once more on the convoy trundling toward the tower. There were no more epithets to express his feelings; he’d exhausted them all.
Haussler’s group was the same force Juma’s men had reported moving up from the south. The German and his cronies had encountered some resistance, but not from Juma’s people. That Haussler did not wear a combat suit or other radiation protection suggested his plans were brief: capture the Snow Maiden and go home.
Gee, that plan sounded strangely familiar.
“They’re Russians,” Brent finally said, glancing toward Juma. “Why didn’t your guys recognize them?”
“There were no reports of armor. They must have picked up the vehicles farther north.”
“If he’s trying to keep low-key, he’s failing miserably,” said Lakota. “He should’ve picked up some local armor or just something less conspicuous.”
“Maybe he doesn’t care, and neither do the Russians. They’re trying to capture a rogue, one of their own, and we already know that. They don’t have anything to hide right now, do they?”
Lakota shrugged. “I bet Grey saw them coming, but she couldn’t tip us off.”
“That’s about all she could do without turning this into an even bigger fiasco,” said Brent.
“We have to wait now,” Juma warned. “After they pass, we can go. If they spot us, we will be sitting dogs.”
“Ducks,” said Lakota.
The warlord frowned at her. “That’s what I said.”
Chen Yi tugged at the Snow Maiden’s shoulder as she leaned over and watched the medic trying to revive Chopra.
“The Americans are in the tunnels,” said the special forces captain. “Three so far. They just jammed the cameras.”
She wrenched around and grabbed him by the neck. “Tell your men to kill them!” Then she shoved him back and away.
He glowered at her for a moment, glanced down at his sidearm, then put a hand to his earpiece, his expression shifting. “You need to suit up.” He lifted his head at Chopra and Hussein. “My men will help them, too…”
“We open the vault first!” she cried.
He muttered something in Chinese and rushed off.
Chopra stirred, his eyes fluttering open. She yelled at the medic, ordering him to lift Chopra and carry him to the final access panel built into the wall beside the main vault door.
Gunfire began booming in the distance.
“They’re coming,” gasped Hussein.
Chopra saw the boy ascending to the throne like an angel, wings spread as he turned to face the crowds and then, finally, inevitably, as perfect and correct as the moment could be, he took a seat on the golden chair and smiled, all of the hope in his heart spreading out in waves across the millions who’d gathered, their faces stretching into the farthest reaches of the desert, their voices a steady hum, like an electrical current coursing through the universe.