Following the GPS coordinates he had received from his goon, Krueger ordered his men to converge on the site. He didn’t know what type of bunker Kaiser had discovered in the middle of the woods, but if the Ulster Archives were involved, it had to be significant.
The first man to get there was Zimmermann. From 200 feet away, he could hear the roar of the ATV. He didn’t know what was making the noise, but he knew it was close. Unsure of what to do, he called Krueger on his radio. ‘I can hear an engine, sir.’
‘What kind of engine?’ Krueger demanded.
‘It sounds like a jeep or some kind of off-road vehicle.’
‘Can you see it?’
‘Not from where I’m hiding.’
‘What about Braun? Do you see Braun?’
‘No, sir. No sign of him.’
Krueger grimaced. ‘I haven’t heard from him since he found the site.’
‘Me, neither. Do you want me to search for him?’
‘Negative. He can fend for himself.’
‘Then what should I do?’
Krueger stared at his GPS. He was still a few minutes away. ‘Investigate the site, then report back to me. I want to know what we’re dealing with.’
Made with a heavy-duty, all-steel frame the trailer had a durable mesh floor for drainage and four flotation tyres for the extra-rough terrain. Collins watched as Payne carried Kaiser out of the bunker and placed him on top of the crates. Working as quickly as they could, they used stretch cords with hooks to strap Kaiser to the crates and guard rails so he wouldn’t slide off during his journey down the mountain.
As they strapped down his injured leg, Kaiser started to groan. It was his first sign of consciousness since Payne had found him on the bunker floor. ‘Where am I?’
Payne rushed to his side. ‘Hey, man, how are you feeling?’
‘Horrible,’ he moaned, barely able to speak. Gauze and tape from a first-aid kit had been wrapped round his head, holding his injured eye in its socket.
‘I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t wake up.’
‘Thanks.’ He lisped because of his broken teeth. ‘I love you, too.’
Payne laughed and patted him on his shoulder. ‘Obviously, I wanted you to wake up eventually. But I was hoping it would be later.’
Kaiser opened his good eye. ‘Why?’
‘We need to haul you off the mountain. I’m afraid it’s going to be bumpy.’
He tried to swallow. ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘To the gorge. Your pilot is going to meet us on the far end. Is that okay with you?’
He nodded slightly. ‘Where’s the … stuff?’
Payne smiled. Even in his current condition, Kaiser was protective of his discovery. As always, his main concern was the bottom line. ‘Don’t worry, I strapped you to the crate. I figured, you wouldn’t want to leave it behind.’
Satisfied with the answer, Kaiser closed his eye and drifted away.
34
Zimmermann heard bits and pieces of the conversation from his hiding spot near the cul-de-sac. Following orders, he updated Krueger on the information.
‘I saw three men at the site,’ he whispered into his radio. ‘One of them is badly hurt. They just strapped him to four crates in the back of a trailer.’
Krueger responded. ‘What kind of crates?’
‘Wooden. Medium-sized. Rope handles.’
‘What’s inside?’
‘I’m not sure, but they look really old.’
‘Anything else?’
Zimmermann hesitated. ‘Maybe.’
‘What is it?’ he snapped, not in the mood for games.
‘I think I know where they’re going.’
‘Where?’
‘One of them mentioned the gorge. He said a pilot would-’
Before Zimmermann could say another word, his head erupted in a fountain of pink mist, thanks to the perfectly placed shot from Jones’s DSR-1 rifle. After passing through his medulla oblongata – dubbed the ‘apricot’ by snipers – the part of the brain that controlled involuntary movement and ensured an instant kill, the bullet blew out Zimmermann’s teeth and struck the radio he was holding against his mouth. A split second later, a mixture of blood, bone and technology covered the forest floor, as if Jones had just shot the Terminator.
But unlike the infamous cyborg, Zimmermann wouldn’t be coming back.
Thunder roared from the bird’s nest, high above the cul-de-sac. The rifle blast was so deafening it echoed throughout the Garmisch-Partenkirchen valley.
Like a sprinter bursting from his starting blocks, Payne reacted instantly, grabbing Collins and throwing him behind the trailer before diving to safety. Whereas most people took several seconds to process violent stimuli, years of training had taught Payne how to shrug off the confusion that followed an unexpected surge of adrenaline and focus on the mission at hand.
Pulling his gun from his belt, Payne crouched next to the crates, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees for possible gunmen. As he did, he realized Kaiser was unprotected, strapped to the top of the crates like a dead animal. Thankfully, he was unconscious again and lying perfectly still. To most intruders, he would look like a corpse instead of a potential target, so Payne left him alone instead of cutting him free.
‘Status?’ Payne whispered into his radio.
Focused on more urgent matters, Jones didn’t reply right away. ‘One down, approximately fifty feet to the north … Still searching for hostiles.’
‘Keep me posted.’
Twenty seconds passed before he spoke again. ‘Looks clear.’
‘You sure?’
Jones paused. ‘Not really.’
Payne didn’t smile. ‘Let me know when you’re sure.’
‘Ain’t gonna happen. Forest is too thick. Too many blind spots.’
‘Recommendation?’
‘The sooner you roll, the better.’
Payne nodded in agreement. Not only was he worried about a team of gunmen attacking the site, it was only a matter of time before the authorities arrived. ‘Will you be joining us?’
‘Eventually, but not right away.’
‘Gotta take a piss?’
‘Gotta cook Hogzilla.’
The moment Payne and Jones joined a Special Mission Unit, their fingerprints were permanently classified by order of the Joint Special Operations Command. This protected their identities when they were running top-secret missions for SOCOM, such as counter terrorism, unconventional warfare or personnel recovery. But sometimes, classified fingerprints weren’t enough. Occasionally, they were forced to take drastic steps in order to cover their tracks – whether that was to destroy physical evidence (security videos, bullet casings, etc.) or to conceal the identities of local contacts – people who would be killed or arrested if their involvement was detected.
When done properly, it was quite effective. And a whole lot of fun.
Normally, the thought of setting a fire in the woods would have been dismissed as overkill, but after weighing the pros and cons, Jones realized he didn’t have much of a choice. If he wanted to keep Kaiser and Ulster out of trouble, he had to torch the bunker before the cops had a chance to investigate it. He reasoned the concrete walls and the lack of ventilation would keep the blaze from spreading to the nearby vegetation, yet it would burn long enough to destroy all the evidence that could be used against them. As an added bonus, he knew the sight of black smoke billowing from the trees would be a wonderful distraction during their escape attempt. When the authorities rushed to put out the fire, the choppers could land undetected in the gorge.