“Oof.”
Another weight hit the combined pile, a heavy step unless Adams was much mistaken. Oleg, true to his training, was continuing the assault. You worried about casualties when the firing was over.
Adams managed to push Shota off and get a breath, wincing at the pain in his ribcage. To his amazement, the big man was moving as well, slowly, but he was moving.
“Shota,” Adams said, rolling over on his side then propping himself up on one elbow. “Shota?”
“I don’t like doors anymore,” Shota said, petulantly. “I don’t like bombs.”
“You’re alive?” Adams asked. He propped himself up some more and shook his head. The massive Keldara’s armor was peppered with holes. The bomb had apparently been something like a claymore. There were even rounds, round little ball bearings, stuck in his faceshield. But, amazingly, he didn’t seem to be wounded at all. The armor had caught all of it.
“I’m alive,” Shota responded. “But I wish I wasn’t. That hurt.”
Adams couldn’t bear it, he had to laugh. He was still chortling when Oleg called him.
“Master Chief?” the team leader said from the door of the room. “There is no one here!”
“Fuck me,” Adams replied. He hadn’t forgotten that there was a hostage in the room that had just got all blown up. But it was, after all, Katya. He’d take ten Katya’s over Shota. If she got blown up it was no skin off of his nose. But missing? That was another thing. The girl knew things. “VANNER!”
What was driving him nuts was that Adams could hear them talking. Oh, it was muted, but he could hear Katya’s tones, like ice. No, not like ice. She was playing with someone. It was the voice of a cat, one of the really malicious ones, that has caught a baby mouse.
“Vanner! Tell her to get this damned thing open or I’m going to blow the son-of-a-bitch in!”
They hadn’t been looking long but there was no obvious switch to open the fireplace. Vanner had apparently caught a flash of it as Katya was dragged out. Pity he hadn’t noticed the booby-trap in front of the door.
“She’s pretty locked in on killing this guy, Master Chief,” Vanner replied. “We’re in movement to your location. Be aware that the Chechens in town are up and moving. You’re about to have about two hundred shooters on your ass in no more than five mikes. Security teams are in place and we’ve got wheels but we need to unass. Now.”
“KATYA! OPEN THIS GOD DAMNED DOOR!”
Another swing and a miss. Another shot ricocheting off the rock walls.
“You’re running out of time,” Kurt said. He was to the stairs, now, sweating heavily but, if anything, the poison seemed to be wearing off.
“You’re the one backing away,” Katya replied. But she knew it was true. They had to run away, the Kildar preferred the term “egress”, before the entire Chechen force dropped on their heads. “And where are you going to be without your Russian guards?”
“Gone,” Kurt said, putting away his pistol and holding up empty hands. “Disappeared. A ghost.”
“One haunting me?” Katya asked, straightening out of her crouch cautiously.
“You’re not a professional are you, dear,” Kurt said and grinned as if he really found it humorous. “I won’t waste my time. Oh, perhaps we’ll meet again. We live in the same world, after all. If so, I’ll remember your cocktails, little girl.”
“And I’ll remember yours,” Katya said, smiling as she backed away. “Another day then. I don’t suppose you’ll leave me the flashlight?”
“No, I need it,” Kurt admitted. “But the switch for the door is on the upper right.” He turned off the flashlight and she could hear him moving up the stairs, fast if a little unsteadily.
And damn if the switch wasn’t right where he’d said.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“How’d it go?” Mike asked as Adams walked up.
“No big problems,” Adams said, casually. “Turns out J spirited Marina out before we hit. Katya took her place. No casualties. Very clean op. Got Katya back. Don’t know where J is. Don’t care.”
One group of Keldara had secured the vehicles the Russians had been using. Those had been used to transport them to the intersection, their previous owners being unavailable for complaint. After sweeping the area for fugitives from the firefight, and finding none, the combined teams were now spread around the intersection on security. A small group was keeping an eye on the small remnant of prisoners, including Al-Kariya who was due for a long spell in a prison in a US allied country.
“Yeah, I heard about Marina already being gone,” Mike said, absentmindedly. He was watching some figures moving inside of one of the dome tents. “Just got a call from higher; they’re fully in Russian territory. Marina will be in Moscow in an hour or so.”
“Great,” Adams said. “So why are we still here? Shouldn’t we be unassing with some nukes?”
“Oh, yeah, those,” Mike said, shrugging. “We’ve got something else to do, first.”
“Uh, huh,” Adams said. “Mike, just so you know, old buddy, we sort of stirred up a hornet’s nest. There are about five hundred Chechens on our ass. And I suspect they’re calling their buddies. And the buddies are calling buddies. So, whatever you’re doing, do it faster.”
“This is one thing that, no matter what, I’m not going to rush,” Mike replied. “Got a question for you. Do you think this was too easy?”
“Easy?” Adams asked. “Mike, did you remember the five hundred Chechens?”
“In the plan,” Mike said. “You delay them until we’re done and then we drive down the road, hit a poorly manned position on the border and we’re golden.”
“Sometimes it works out that way,” Adams said with a shrug. “So we’re just going to sit here?”
“No, you’re going to grab all the teams except Padrek’s and Yosif’s, keep them on security, and go back down the road,” Mike said. “There you are going to do some good SEAL shit and slow the Chechens down.”
“SEAL shit.”
“Yeah. SEAL shit. You know. Blow shit up. Kill people. Shit like that.”
“And what are you going to be doing while I’m doing ‘SEAL shit’?”
“I’m going to be standing right here, worrying like hell.”
“I hate destroying all these weapons.”
While Padrek’s team pulled security, Yosif’s was sweeping the battlefield, collecting the weapons and any documents they could find. The haul was pretty good and normally they would have carried them back to the Keldara, arms for the second line defenders of the valley.
In this case, however, space and weight were going to be at a premium. They had vehicles, now, but didn’t know for how long. So the weapons were being collected into piles and before they left they would be set on fire with thermite grenades. There might be a few left useable, but not many.
The ammunition was being put in a different pile, a booby-trapped one. A kilo of C-4 would go off thirty minutes after the trigger was set or, if anything was moved, immediately. One of Padrek’s team was preparing the trap while Yosif’s men made the pile.
“Grab those packs,” Yosif replied, gesturing to four of the dead Islamics. The four had apparently been close in guards for the main terrorist, who was now wrapped up in rigger tape like a mummy. The guards had not survived the attack. “They’ve probably got ammo but check them for documents.”