Echo Six: Black Ops 4 - Chechen Massacre (21 page)

They'd reached the target, and now it was time to get out alive and take the nukes far away, out of reach of the NKs. And then destroy them. He climbed up to the cockpit and found himself faced by a vast array of unfamiliar controls. It all looked dated, analogue, at least by Western standards, perhaps something out of an aviation museum. He mentally shrugged and reached for the engine start. He found the controls and shot a fast glance out through the windshield. Guy's squad had reached the second machine gun and slaughtered the crew, but there was no sign of the second missile.

I hope to Christ they find it before it’s too late. If they leave the shooter alive on the ground, he'll bring down the big helo before we’re a hundred meters in the air.

Shots began to split the night, as the defenders at last came to the realization they were in a battle and started to return fire. North Koreans ran around wildly, shouting panicked orders, but now the temporary lights they'd erected worked against them. Guy and Rovere had sufficient skill and experience to keep their squads well away from the bright wash of illumination, using it to backlight the shooting kill zone.

Groups of frantic, panicking men appeared. Each time they shot them down until the lighted area became little more than a graveyard, littered with dead and dying troops. It was time to leave. Talley shouted, and Guy recalled his men. They leapt through the door of the Mil, turning to face the enemy, and ready to tear apart any soldier brave enough to try to take back the aircraft. Guy joined him in the cockpit.

"We've done as much damage as we can, Boss. It's time to get out of here before they get their act together and come at us."

Even as he spoke, Talley was reaching for the engine start buttons, and they began to rumble into life as the starters turned over.

"We’re waiting for Rovere's men. As soon as they’re aboard, I'll take off, but we need that other RPG7. Is there any sign of him?"

"None, he could be anywhere. I guess we'll just have to take our chances."

The engines were building up to full power as he thought quickly. There was no more time.

"We're leaving. Tell Domenico to hurry."

Shots began impacting the hull of the aircraft, the North Koreans waking up to the possible loss of their precious prize. Talley's men were returning fire from the cabin doors, forcing the enemy to keep their heads down, but enough fired back to punch more and more holes in the aluminum fuselage. Guy went aft to call for the last men to board. Seconds later, he clambered back into the cockpit.

"They're here. It's time to go."

He nodded and slammed the throttles forward to maximum power.
Immediately, the
Mil
began to shake as he adjusted the collective
. T
he massive turboshafts roared their mechanical fury, and he began to wrench the enor
mous rotorcraft off the ground. He looked down to see the rail yard several meters below them, as the ungainly helo clawed for height. They’d made it. They were leaving, and they carried the warheads with them. Guy tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. The cacophony in the cockpit was a shattering, unearthly roar that made hearing impossible.

The second missile shooter, with the other RPG7, he'd suddenly appeared, leaping out from behind cover like an evil genie. Now he was standing on the ground, peering up at them, a hundred meters below. His launcher was hefted on his shoulder, ready to fire. Talley banked the craft over sharply and felt the controls vibrate in his hands; his inexpert piloting almost caused it to roll over. Even as he performed it, he knew the maneuver wouldn’t be enough. They were too close, far too close, and when the missile launched, their only chance would be if it missed the most vital parts of the aircraft. It was a forlorn hope.

The heat seeker would guide it unerringly to the hottest area of the aircraft. The engine exhaust, right below one of the turboshafts, and that would be the death knell for all of them. If they had more height, maybe a thousand or two thousand meters, there may have been a chance. It was just feasible he could counter the loss of one engine by correcting the inevitable devastating loss of control following the missile's detonation. At two hundred meters, there was no such chance.

"Stand by for a crash landing," he shouted.

Guy nodded his understanding. He probably didn't hear, but he knew what was needed, and he raced back into the cabin to warn the men. The Mil crept higher, gaining height, meter by meter. It wasn't enough, would never be enough.

If we had five minutes, another thousand meters, maybe I could save it, but I doubt we have even five seconds.

He kicked on the rudder and adjusted the collective, but the giant helicopter was too slow to respond, and with a sickening certainty, he braced himself for the explosion. He looked down at the shooter and could swear for a brief moment their eyes met. As he watched, something hit the man and slammed him to the ground. Without doubt, a heavy caliber round, and then more bullets followed, as the shooter fired shot after shot to make certain of the missileer and destroy his weapon.

There was only one explanation. Jerry Ostrowski was stationed at the top of the hill and had picked up the threat. The moment he spied the RPG7 about to destroy the helo, he responded with a fusillade of accurate shooting that destroyed both the missile and the shooter.

Talley wrenched his eyes away and swept the area below for further threats. Apart from a couple of soldiers taking ill-aimed potshots at them with their assault rifles, there was nothing that concerned him. And then something caught his eye, a movement near to the locomotive. He squinted to focus as the man moved into the spill from the overhead lights, and there stood his nemesis, the man who above all he wanted to kill. Even so, it could be he'd done a whole lot worse. The penalty for failure in the Stalinist state of North Korea was no secret to the outside world. Yet something about the squat, deadly officer puzzled him. The man was staring back at him, and he betrayed no sign of any panic, far from it. Although Talley was carrying away the Korean’s prized warheads, he was convinced Ho’s expression was calm, almost relaxed.

Why?
I bet he won’t feel so relaxed when he reports this to his master in Pyongyang, and this time, there’ll be no pretense of defecting to the West. Kim will crucify him for this day's work. Literally!

* * *

“We lost the warheads!”

Abramov watched the big helicopter climb higher and higher. The Chechens were sheltering behind a huge pile of railroad sleepers, heavy and solid enough to stop a missile strike. He replied to the man who’d spoken.

“Yes, it looks like it, but that is not our concern. We have the payment.”

“But they’ll demand their money back if they don’t get the shipment,” the panicked man insisted.

Abramov laughed. “They can wish for anything they like. I made a contract with them to get those crates into North Korea.” He looked pointedly around the dark countryside. “Last time I checked, this is North Korea, end of story. Besides, I never did like those dog-eating bastards, anyway.”

“Even so, if we could stop them getting away…”

Abramov waved his hand at the sky. “What do you plan to do, Illya? At this range, the only weapon that could bring down that helicopter is an RPG7. Even if you could lay hands on another launcher, the moment you stand in the open to target a missile, they’ll shoot you down like a dog. You saw what happened to the last person who tried.”

“But…”

“Forget Kim’s rabble. If they want to tangle with us Chechens, they’ll get more than they bargained for. The Russians found that out when they came into our country, remember? Plenty of them went home in body bags, and the Russians are bigger and better armed than this pisspot country.” He was thoughtful for a few moments. “Those locator beacons, you’re certain they were planted in the crates? All of them?”

The man nodded. “I saw to it myself, but they’ll only activate from close range, no more than a hundred kilometers, possibly a lot less. It depends on terrain and a lot of….”

He waved the other man to silence. “It may be possible to make a profit out of this fuck-up. As soon as we get out of here, start searching for those beacons.”

“But, where?”

“Russia, possibly. I don’t know, South Korea perhaps, Japan, all points in between. If we get lucky…”

“We’ll be rich?”

“Certainly more rich than we are already, my friend.”

“I’ll get our people on it as soon as I can contact with them.”

“Good, now let’s find a way to go home. I’ve had more than enough of this shithole to last a lifetime.”

* * *

The giant Russian helicopter ascended higher and higher, and he vectored to the south where the wounded waited.

Talley juggled the controls to bring it down, and the Mil touched down hard. The rugged craft was built to take the punishment, designed to operate from rough surfaces in strenuous battle conditions. Even before the wheels touched the ground, Guy and the men catapulted through the door and began dragging the wounded into the cabin. Alessandra stayed with Josef as they carefully lifted him to a clear space on the floor. Finally, Guy ran forward to the cockpit.

"That's it, everyone's aboard. I suggest we get out of here before the Korean People's Air Force arrives."

"Roger that."

He brought the throttles to full power, and the big helo left the ground, seesawing with his inexpert piloting. He brought it under control, swung the nose of the Mil around, and headed due east. Within minutes, they were over the choppy waters of the Sea of Japan, but the landmass of Japan was almost a thousand kilometers to the east and too far to attempt. The NKs would be on them like attack dogs on a tethered goat. As soon as he was out of sight of the land, he dropped down until they were almost skimming the waves. Then he vectored north, toward Russia.

The North Koreans would pursue them with everything they had, of that there was no doubt, but the sovereign border of Russia was not to be crossed lightly, not by warplanes. The repercussions for the Pyongyang regime would be massive, far more than they could afford to pay. Kim Jong-un had played his games with the West, just like his father before him, Kim Jong-il. The West had done little to stop him, but the Russians were a different matter. Kim may be a homicidal maniac, but he would know that Vladimir Putin would respond to any perceived attack with overwhelming might.

They flew on, closing the distance to Russia minute-by-minute, kilometer-by-kilometer. Talley did the math. He was flying at maximum speed, almost three hundred kilometers per hour. They should cross the border in little more than twenty minutes, unless they were shot down first.

He looked around as Alessandra climbed up into the cockpit and sat close
to him. She found a headset and fastened it around his head, and found a similar set for herself.

"How long before we're safe?"

He explained to her what they were up against.

"I find it hard to believe we got away with it," she reflected. "In the end, Colonel Ho wasn't as clever as we thought. Will they execute him?"

"Probably."

"Good, he deserves it for what he did. He's not a soldier. He's a common murderer."

"That's not entirely true. He's both, a soldier and a common murderer. Forget him. How is Josef?"

"Not good. It's just possible he may survive, if he gets skilled medical attention very soon, but without it…"

"I'll do my best. Vladivostok is a large city. They're sure to have a good ER room somewhere."

She gave him a skeptical glance, and he concentrated on handling the controls as they crossed the coast and made landfall. He knew what she meant. The reputation of Russian hospitals was not good at best. And at worst, well, there was nothing he could do, not right now.

"Some of the other men are..."

She stopped, and her face went white. The guard frequency came to life, and a harsh voice fed into their headphones, a familiar voice.

"Enemy soldiers flying stolen Mil-26, respond. This is Colonel Ho of the Ministry of Public Security. You are ordered to land immediately and hand back our property. Commander Abe Talley, I know you can hear me. It is time for the nonsense to end. You will respond with your coordinates, and I will arrange safe conduct out of the country for you and your men.”

What the hell is he up to? We’re flying low, and there’s no chance the NKs can pick us up on radar. In any case, the formidable Colonel doesn't expect us to land just on his say so. There had to be something else, but what?