Recovery: V Plague Book 8 (19 page)

The ride in
the Bradley was rough, partially due to the fact that the decision had been
made to travel cross-country to shorten the distance and save time but Irina’s
driving style didn’t help.  She seemed fearless, not bothering to slow for
anything.  Small crests in the terrain became a method for her to get the heavy
vehicle airborne for a brief moment.

“Damn it,
woman, you’re going to beat us to death before we even get there!”  Martinez
shouted after a particularly rough patch of terrain.

“Now you
know how I feel when I’m in a chopper with you,” Scott said without taking his
attention off the forward-looking periscope.

“I fly like
an angel, Tech Sergeant,” Martinez shot back.  “And when I don’t, at least you
don’t feel like you’ve been shaken
and
stirred.”

“Whatever
you say, ma’am,” Scott said, rotating the scope slightly.  “Irina, how are we
on fuel?  There’s a small truck stop on a highway at our three o’clock.  Maybe
four miles away.”

“We should
fill up while we can,” she said, making a hard right turn without any reduction
in speed.

Everything
that could be tied down had been secured, but as the Bradley roared through the
turn and the momentum shifted a large ammo can broke free from its bungee and
slid across the floor.  Johnnie Ray barely had time to jerk his feet out of the
way before it crashed into the bulkhead he was seated against.

“This is
bullshit,” he shouted.  “That crazy bitch is going to kill us all!”

Igor turned
and looked down at the smaller man.  Walker flinched when Igor raised his big
hand but all he did was hold his index finger to his lips in a shushing sign. 
He managed to make it seem more intimidating than if he’d ranted and raved. 
Walker lowered his gaze and leaned back in his seat.

“Thank you,
Petty Officer,” Colonel Crawford was speaking to Jessica over the FSOC system. 
“Keep me updated.”

He gestured
at Scott who had looked around when the Colonel was obviously signing off.

“What’s
going on, sir?”  Scott asked, terminating the connection with the satellite.

“The
Russians chased the Major into Dodge City,” he said, reaching out and handing
the headset to Scott.  “They bit off a little more than they could chew.  Two
of them down and the rest heading back to base.”

“Doesn’t
surprise me, sir,” Scott grinned before shooting a cautious look in Irina’s
direction.  It was easy to forget that she and Igor were Russian.  He had grown
fond of them and didn’t want to offend either by celebrating the death of their
countrymen.

“Me either,”
Crawford said, understanding the look Scott had given to their driver.  “They
still aren’t back on the road yet.  Quite a few infected in the part of town
where they’re hiding and they’re probably waiting to make sure the helos have
actually left the area.  How far are we from Dodge City?”

Scott
swiveled back to his station and began clicking on the rugged laptop connected
to the Bradley’s internal network.  Still not comfortable with the software it
took him a few moments to find what he needed.

“We’re about
three and half hours away, sir.  After we stop for fuel,” he said as Irina
finally backed off the throttle to steer them into the truck stop.

Martinez,
seated at the gunner’s station, was scanning a full circle around them.  By the
time she had completed her first circuit, Irina had brought them to a stop next
to the hatch covers that protected the tops of the underground storage tanks. 
As everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of the battering from her
driving, Martinez performed a second, slower scan.

“All clear,”
she finally called, reaching out and slapping the button that lowered the rear
ramp.

Igor was
already on his feet and was the first out, his rifle up and ready as he looked
over the area.  Martinez was right behind him, grabbing her M4 out of a rack as
she headed for the door.

“Stay put,”
Crawford said to Walker as he moved past him to stretch his legs.

“I’ve gotta
piss,” Johnnie Ray said.

The Colonel
sighed, staring at the man for a moment before finally nodding and reaching
down to release the harness that held the prisoner in place.  Walker’s hands
were still cuffed behind his back and he scooted forward on the seat before
standing and following Crawford out into the fresh air.

Martinez and
Igor were at opposite ends of the Bradley, keeping watch.  Scott already had
the plate in the parking lot open and was feeding the hose from the Bradley’s
pump through the opening.

“You going
to un-cuff me General, or maybe one of the ladies can hold it for me?”  Johnnie
Ray leered at Irina who was walking down the ramp as he spoke.

“I’m sure
Captain Martinez would love to get it in her hand,” Crawford said, not
bothering to correct the man’s improper reading of his rank.  “Shall I call her
and her knives over?”

Walker
swallowed audibly and shook his head, remembering his encounter with the
Mexican beauty when they were leaving the jail.  He didn’t doubt for a moment
that she was more than capable of carrying out her threats against his manhood.

“OK, then,”
the Colonel said after a few moments of the prisoner not responding.  “I’m
going to take your cuffs off and you are going to walk that way ten feet, stop,
take a piss and then come right back when you’re done.  You try to go one step
farther and I’ll shoot you in the ass and drag you back.  I don’t need you
healthy when we get to Seattle, just alive.”

Unlocking
Walker’s cuffs he stepped back and gestured at the open parking lot with the
muzzle of his rifle.  Johnnie Ray gave him a dirty look before turning and
walking a careful four paces.  Fumbling with his zipper, he glanced over his
shoulder at Crawford who was staring intently at him with his M4 up and ready.

Irina stood
next to the Colonel, also watching their prisoner as he began peeing onto the
pavement.  She said something under her breath in Russian then chuckled to
herself.

“What’s
that?”  Crawford asked without taking his attention off of Walker.

“I said he
must have a small dick with a pitiful little stream like that,” she said in a
quiet voice.

When Walker was
finished and zipped up he turned and slowly walked back to where they stood. 
The Colonel could tell by the look on his face that the man wanted to say
something, but at the last moment he held his tongue.  Irina re-secured the handcuffs
and under Crawford’s watchful eye led their prisoner back into the Bradley and
strapped him to his seat.

“How are we
doing, Tech Sergeant?”  Crawford called out, staying by the rear ramp so he
could keep an eye on Johnnie Ray.

“Almost
there, sir,” Scott called back.  “Maybe another thirty gallons and we’ll be
full.”

Crawford
nodded then tilted his head when he heard a faint sound on the wind.  It was a
low, thrumming noise, barely even detectable, and would have been ignored by
anyone who hadn’t spent time in war zones across the globe.

“Chopper!” 
He shouted, dashing inside the Bradley and to the gunner’s station.

Irina
followed him inside but Scott kept the fuel pumping and Martinez and Igor
stayed in place to watch his back.  Powering up the targeting system the Colonel
began scanning the horizon.  Several miles to the northeast he spotted a single
HIND helicopter transiting to the west.  Slaving the computer system to the
helo, he watched as it slowly began swinging in their direction.

“Single
HIND,” he said to Irina.  “Low and slow.”

“A patrol,”
she answered without hesitation.  “Part of a dual layer CAP after the incident
where you shot down all the planes at Kirtland.”

“That’s just
great,” he said.  “I think they’re coming this way.”

There was
banging from outside as Scott coiled up and stowed the fueling hose.  A few
minutes later he came inside with Martinez and Igor trailing him.  Irina
rattled off a quick explanation in Russian for Igor’s benefit.

“They’re
definitely coming this way,” Crawford said after watching for a few more
moments. 

“What are
you doing?”  Walker shouted.  “We’re sitting ducks just parked here.”

Everyone
ignored him.  All of them knew that the Bradley couldn’t outrun the HIND and
that the helicopter carried missiles that could easily penetrate their armor.

“Are we
fighting, sir?”  Scott asked.

“We’re
fighting, Tech Sergeant.”  Crawford answered.  “I’m locked on.  Just waiting
for the right moment and I’ll introduce him to a TOW missile.  We’d better hope
he can’t get a shot off first.”

“Wait a
minute,” Martinez said, pushing forward past Scott.  “We’ve got native Russian
speakers.  Can we draw them in?  Maybe get them to set down?  If we can get our
hands on that beast I can fly it and we’ll get to Idaho a hell of a lot
faster.”

“Captain?” 
Crawford turned and looked at Irina who stood silent in thought for a few
seconds.

“I can
probably convince them I’ve captured the Bradley and have American prisoners,
but…” Her voice trailed off.

“But,
what?”  Crawford prompted.

“Depends on
the flight crew,” she began to explain.  “If they’ve been in a combat zone the
pilot will be experienced and land a hundred meters away and drop the soldiers,
then take off and go into an orbit around the area.  If it’s a new pilot then
it might work.”

“How many
men will be on board a patrol?”  The Colonel asked, checking on the advancing
helicopter.  It was still over two miles away.

“Two to
four,” she answered after consulting with Igor.  “Depends on available
manpower.  Igor says it will most likely be two but he doesn’t guarantee that.”

The Colonel
nodded his head in thought, his eyes still pressed to the periscope.  If they
were lucky they just might come away with a helo that could fly around in
Russian controlled airspace without attracting attention.  If they weren’t,
then they were all dead.  The HIND could flit around like a fat bumblebee and
put a couple of armor defeating, high explosive missiles into them. 

He wasn’t
overly confident in being able to hit it with the TOW missile.  TOWs were
designed to engage and defeat ground targets.  Tanks and APCs (Armored
Personnel Carriers), not helicopters.  To succeed, the HIND would need to stay
nice and stable, not bouncing all over the place like combat helicopters tended
to do.

“OK, we’re
going to try it,” he said, decision made.  “Irina, get on the radio and
convince them.  Tell them you’ve got a high-ranking American officer as a
prisoner.  Scott and Martinez, get some weapons hidden on your bodies.  You’re
our Trojan Horse if we can convince them to take us on board.”

Irina
snatched a headset off its hook and settled it on her head.  Adjusting the
short-range HF radio to a new frequency she began transmitting in her native
tongue.  Soon she was obviously engaged in a conversation, but no one other
than Igor had a clue what she was saying to convince the HIND’s crew that she
was one of them.

Crawford
watched tensely as the big helo settled into a hover over a hundred yards
away.  The stubby wings bristled with missiles and he could clearly see the
multiple barrels of a rotary canon mounted in the nose of the aircraft.  His
hand hovered over the fire control for the TOW system.  The turret was
perfectly aligned with the target, the pilot having flown directly at them
after the Colonel had already engaged the computer.

“He’s
cautious, but he’s landing,” Irina said.

The HIND
descended, landing gear just brushing the small state highway.  The troop door
opened and four Russian soldiers jumped out.  They scanned the area as the
helicopter lifted back into the air and began a tight orbit.  Crawford quickly
hit a button that shut down the targeting system so the computer didn’t rotate
the turret to track the helo and alert the pilots that something wasn’t what it
seemed.

“We need to
go meet them,” Irina said, removing the headset.

“Let them
get a little closer,” Crawford said. 

Tension was
high inside the Bradley as they waited, Irina moving to where Walker sat and
releasing his harness.  Martinez stayed close in case she needed help with the
man.

“You are
General Walker,” Irina said, pushing her face close to his.  “Give us away and
if the soldiers out there don’t kill you I’ll personally hold you down while
she castrates you.  Understand me?”

“It’s time,”
Crawford said.  “Good luck.”

As
previously arranged with Igor, he and Irina made a production of pushing
Martinez, Scott and Walker down the ramp and into the open.  Igor stayed behind
them, rifle up and aimed at their backs.  Irina moved around the small group as
they got into the open and strode purposefully across the asphalt to meet the
soldiers.

Approaching
the men, Irina pulled out her GRU credentials and held them in front of her. 
She was counting on the paranoid secrecy of the Russian military and
intelligence services.  Since there was theoretically no need for these men to
know that she had been labeled a traitor she was fairly confident they wouldn’t
question her authority.

The man in
the lead was a Sergeant, a Corporal and two Privates following him.  She zeroed
in on the slightly older man, immediately berating him for the helicopter
having taken off.  She was playing the roll of a GRU officer and as she
screamed at the NCO she saw the fear in his eyes.

He
apologized profusely and activating his radio began yelling at the pilot to
bring the HIND down to pick up the infuriated woman standing in front of him. 
The three men at his rear, who should have been spread out and watching the
“prisoners” standing behind Irina were too scared to move.  They stood immobile
behind their Sergeant who was listening intently to his radio.

When the
transmission that Irina couldn’t hear ended he swallowed nervously and looked
up.

“Comrade
Captain,” he said in Russian.  “The pilot reports that he is under instructions
to clear any GRU officers who present themselves and ask for assistance.  If I
may have your name-“

That was as
far as he got before Irina exploded into a tirade truly worthy of the best
actress to ever grace the stage or screen.  She called the Sergeant every
derogatory name she could think of and threatened him with punishments that had
gone out with the collapse of the old Soviet Union.  Wrapping up her tirade she
held her hand out, demanding the radio so she could speak directly to the
pilot.

Shaking with
a terror that only the KGB or GRU could induce in a Russian soldier, the
Sergeant quickly ripped the comm unit free of his uniform and handed it to
her.  Moments later she was repeating her tirade, screaming at the pilot over
the radio.  Scott and Martinez were getting nervous, exchanging quick glances.

They trusted
that Irina wasn’t betraying them but were worried that her act would backfire
on them.  But apparently the deep-seated fear of the GRU within the ranks of
the Russian military that they’d always heard of was a reality.  A few moments
after the end of her latest tirade the HIND came out of its orbit into a hover
and slowly descended to the pavement.

Waving the
soldiers forward so they were in front of her, Irina began marching towards the
helicopter.  The Sergeant was happy to sprint ahead of his small squad and put
some distance between himself and the crazy, angry GRU Captain. 

Walker was
sweating heavily as they approached the HIND, his eyes darting in every
direction.  He was looking to escape but Scott picked up on the signs and
nudged Martinez, nodding at Johnnie Ray.  They moved until they were walking on
either side of him and Martinez hissed a warning that none of the Russians
could hear over the noise of the idling HIND.

Reaching the
nose of the helo, Irina came to a halt, both groups taking their cue from her
and also stopping.  Waving her arms emphatically at the two pilots seated in
the cockpit she gestured at the ground in front of her.  The two men exchanged
looks then turned back to stare at her.  Scott and Martinez slowly began moving
apart, making sure they had good sightlines on the four soldiers.

That was
when Johnnie Ray saw his opportunity and bolted.  He made it three steps before
Igor hammered him to the ground with the stock of his rifle.  Seeing the
opportunity, Irina shouted at the Sergeant, telling him to load the captured
General into the aircraft.

The Sergeant
gestured and the two Privates leapt forward and picked up the unconscious man,
dragging him to the open side door.  Going with the flow, Igor motioned Scott
and Martinez to follow and the group collapsed in around the soldiers that were
pulling Walker along, the toes of his shoes scraping across the rough asphalt.

Irina held
them back at the door, roughly grabbing Martinez’ arm and seemingly forcing her
through the opening.  She followed, turning and giving Igor an almost
imperceptible signal. 

“Do not kill
them,” she said to Martinez in a low voice as she moved quickly to the cockpit,
drawing her pistol as she made her way forward.

Martinez
went with her, a pistol appearing in one hand and a dagger in the other.  The
Corporal saw the weapons come out and shouted a warning, spinning and raising
his weapon to bear in the direction of the two women.  A shot rang out and he
fell to the ground, a red hole in his temple from the pistol in Scott’s hand.

The two
Privates supporting Johnnie Ray froze in place, their mouths open in shock. 
Cursing, the Sergeant began to lift his weapon but stopped when Igor stepped
forward and pointed his rifle at the man’s face.  Scott had already swiveled
and was covering the other two with his pistol.

Between the
roar of the idling engines and the noise cancelling headsets the pilots wore
they didn’t hear the gunshot, and the location of the group was out of their
line of sight.  Unaware there was a problem, the chief pilot jerked in surprise
when Irina suddenly appeared next to him and jammed the muzzle of her pistol
against his neck.

The co-pilot
reacted faster than she had expected, pulling a Makarov pistol from a holster
sewn into the leg of his flight suit.  He was lifting it towards Irina’s head
when Martinez arrived.  The seat back and the man’s body were between her and
the weapon that was swinging onto target and she had no option other than to
ram her dagger into the back of his neck, just below the lip of the Kevlar flight
helmet he wore.

He died
instantly, slumping forward.  The seat harness was all that kept his body from
coming to rest on the flight controls.  Martinez reached around and took the
pistol from his dead hand, then removed a matching weapon from the pilot’s
holster.  Irina had her weapon hard against his neck and he remained still as
Martinez disarmed him.

“Do you want
him to shut it down?”  Irina shouted.

“No!  Don’t
let him touch anything!”  Martinez shouted in response to be heard in the noisy
cockpit.

Irina
shouted instructions in Russian as Martinez stepped back slightly.  Slowly, the
pilot unbuckled the harness then reached up and disconnected a thick electrical
umbilical that connected his helmet to the helicopter.  Under both women’s
watchful eyes he cautiously pushed himself out of the seat.  As he was turning
to climb over a console Martinez saw his eyes flicker to a small panel with a
red button covered by a clear plastic safety guard.

In a flash
almost too fast to see she flicked the bloody dagger forward, holding the blade
an inch in front of the man’s face.  A drop of the co-pilot’s blood dripped off
and splashed onto the panel the man had looked at.

“Nyet!”  She
said in a loud voice.

They
remained unmoving for a few long seconds until she took the dagger out of his
face and motioned him to keep coming.  She didn’t know what the button would
do, but if it was something he was willing to risk his life to press she knew
it wouldn’t be good.

The pilot
kept coming, even slower than before.  The helmet’s sun visor was lowered and
he looked like a large, bug-eyed insect when he finally emerged from the
cockpit.  They herded him back and out the side door to join the rest of the
captives.

Johnnie Ray
was still unconscious, lying in a heap on the pavement.  Scott and Igor had
disarmed the three soldiers and had them face down on the ground ten yards
away.  After removing his helmet, Irina sent the pilot to join them.  Martinez
looked in the direction of the Bradley where Colonel Crawford had been covering
them with a TOW missile in case things went bad and the HIND needed to be shot
down.  She waved an ‘all clear’ and a moment later he emerged from the rear and
trotted over to them.