Even after everything she’d seen, she’d underestimated the speed at which that son of a bitch could take the high ground. Curiosity killed the cat and one day it was going to do the same to her.
The gunfire stopped but this time the deep silence she’d become accustomed to didn’t ensue. Instead, she could hear the footfalls of the man approaching from below and the sound of rocks being knocked down as his partner came at them from above.
“Zahid,” she whispered. No answer. He had tipped to the side and his head was resting at an unnatural angle on the butt of her M4 carbine. The sniper rifle was still set up at the edge of the wall and that’s where it was going to stay. The approaching men would have identified that they’d been attacked with two weapons and if either was missing, they’d know someone else had been there.
Randi reached out and snatched her pack, sliding it back and forth across the marks made by her boots and body in the dust. The sound brought another volley, this time from both directions, forcing her to retreat into the gap. It would have to be enough.
She twisted sideways and dragged her pack along behind her, listening to the footfalls of the two men as they were amplified and distorted by the passageway’s acoustics. For a moment it sounded like they were pursuing her but she quickly realized that it was just an illusion. Still, it prompted her to increase her speed, pushing the very edge of what she could do silently. There was a drop-off farther up and she knew her life depended on getting to it before the men reached Zahid’s body. The problem was that she couldn’t remember the distance.
Ukrainian voices echoed toward her and she used the noise to mask a brief increase in her pace. She couldn’t understand the words, but it was likely that they were coordinating the final phase of their assault on the alcove and speculating as to the chances that its occupant was still breathing.
There was a shout and another burst of automatic gunfire and she incorporated them into her running mental video of the two mercs’ actions — not difficult because they were almost certainly the exact same ones she’d have taken in their situation.
The man who had staked out the high ground would spray the area as his teammate came in from the east…
The ceiling rose and she stood to the degree she could, breaking into a crouched sprint through the blackness as she continued to mentally play out the scene unfolding behind her.
The approaching man would have good visibility with night-vision goggles, but the position of Zahid’s body would initially hide it, making it impossible to make a decent risk assessment. That would slow him down a bit. But only a bit.
The final echoes of gunfire faded and Randi was forced to slow to a pace that allowed her to be completely silent. The Ukrainian would be inching forward now, back against the cliff, listening for movement. He’d come up to the edge of the crack she was moving through and stop. Zahid’s foot would come into his field of vision and he’d watch it for a few moments, confirming the strangely unmistakable stillness of death.
Once he was satisfied that the Afghan no longer posed a threat, the merc would turn his attention to the gap. Probably also not a threat, but these were thorough professionals. He wouldn’t just stroll past it. No, he’d update his teammate as to the situation and then…
Almost precisely on cue, the shout she was dreading rang out. Randi broke into a full run again as the man stuck his assault rifle into the crack and opened up on full automatic. One bullet passed close enough that she could feel the hot wind from it, another ricocheted off the stone to her right with a deafening ring. And then the ground went out from beneath her.
The landing was less graceful than she’d planned and she pitched forward, slamming headfirst into the ground as more rounds passed over her head.
She remained still, dazed enough that she didn’t trust herself to rise in the silence that was once again closing in. Instead, she went back to trying to picture what was happening in the alcove she’d just escaped from. The man would have leapt across the gap and be inching forward again, still keeping his back against the rock wall. A few more seconds…
There was another shout, followed by the rattle of falling rock as the man’s teammate started down to him. Zahid had been confirmed dead and, for the moment, they sounded as though they were satisfied that the threat had been neutralized.
Randi pulled herself from the shallow hole and listened for any hint of pursuit as she continued on. The mercenaries had chased and cornered one man and now he was dead. There was no reason for them to think anyone else had been involved — a mistake she herself probably would have made in their position.
Ahead, the darkness took on a hint of gray, but she didn’t let it cause her to quicken her pace. It was another interminable five minutes of wondering if they’d empty another clip into the gap before Randi exited onto a steep, moonlight-washed slope.
She immediately started up, wanting to make sure that this time she had the superior position if the men decided to come after her.
After fifteen minutes of lying quietly in the rocks with her silenced Glock on her chest, though, there was still no sign of pursuit.
Finally, she relaxed and redirected her gaze to the sky as she took another inventory of her condition. There was a little blood trickling down her face and she was going to have a nice bruise across her forehead. No big deal. Her right ankle had taken a bit of a beating — nothing that would keep her out of heels, but less than ideal for a five-hour hike that included climbing down a steep, loose mountain in the dark. Particularly with her two Ukrainian friends still out there.
She dug into her pack for her sat phone and began dialing.
“Randi?” Klein said when he came on. “Are you all right? It’s my understanding that you’re still not back at base.”
“I’ll live. The last resident of Kot’eh just got taken out by mercs — Ukrainian, I think. Before he died he told me that they were given equipment and intel and paid to go after Sarabat. They were also paid to take their heads and hide them in a cave southeast of here.”
“Anything else unusual?”
“He said that the men didn’t fight back. The women and children did, but it sounds like the men just stood there.”
There was a short pause. “All right. I think this is getting a little beyond the scope of what I have authorization to look into. Let me work on this from my end. Can you get back on your own?”
She looked down the dark slope. “I always do.”
17
The road was in even worse condition than he expected and Craig Bailer began to regret driving himself. The benefit of a little time to mentally prepare for his meeting had been significantly diminished by crossing no fewer than three streams and a mud bog that had very nearly left him stranded. No place for a man born and bred on the Upper East Side.
A building finally came into view, still distant but unmistakably the one he was looking for. Most of his communication with Christian Dresner was over computer links; the few times they had met face-to-face, it was always at one of these remote bunkers. From the outside, they all looked exactly like miniature versions of the swooping, thick-walled research facilities he’d also strewn across the world. It was like a tic.
Bailer eased up to the gate and, for the first time in his life, was just waved through by one of the highly trained guards Dresner seemed to think were necessary to protect him. From what, no one was sure. Former Israeli and U.S. special forces seemed like overkill to keep him safe from a world populated mostly with starstruck fanboys.