The Shadow Protocol (36 page)

“Okay, so … what do we do when we get there?”

“To quote you, I don’t have the slightest idea.”

“I’m not reassured,” she said sulkily.

The trailer jolted violently, one of the cases bashing against the sidewall, then tipped sharply downhill. “Hold on to me!” said Adam as he braced himself, stretching one leg across the cabin to pin the escaped case in place. Bianca clung to him, trying to keep the other from sliding away.

The descent lasted for several uncomfortable minutes before finally leveling out. Adam pulled the case across the trailer with his heel, then went to the back of the cabin. “What are you doing?” Bianca demanded.

“Reconnaissance.” He peeled the flap aside, then leaned out and cautiously raised his head above the roof to look ahead.

The wind that hit his face was simultaneously hot and cold, exhaust fumes mixed with the biting gusts rolling across the landscape. He grimaced and narrowed his eyes. The flat-floored valley ran roughly north to south, hills rising steeply on each side. There was not so much as a tree in sight, nor even shrubs, just the occasional boulder poking out above the snow.

The helicopter had landed, the Vityaz plodding toward it. It was a Hind, as Tony had said: an ugly and deadly Mil Mi-24P gunship, its stubby wings laden with rocket pods and a cannon mounted on its nose. Unlike its American counterparts, it also doubled as a troop carrier, a compartment in its fuselage able to carry up to eight people.

Some of them had debarked. Even from this distance, he could tell they were soldiers, his sharp eyes picking out their AKs. Sevnik was obviously as untrusting of al-Rais as vice versa.

He withdrew. “The chopper’s landed,” he told Bianca. “Get under the bench—I’ll cover you up.”

The prospect didn’t please her. “What about the cases? And what about you?”

“I’ll put them under the sheets. Go on.”

Bianca reluctantly crawled under the bench. Adam took one of the grubby tarpaulins and draped it over her. In the half-light inside the trailer, it was unlikely anyone would give it a second look. He pushed the cases to the forward bulkhead and pulled the sheets over them, then held the remaining tarp over his shoulders like a cape and squeezed beneath the other bench. A quick check that his feet were fully covered, then he concealed his head and waited.

The Vityaz’s bumpy journey finally stopped. The engine noise dropped to an idle grumble. Over it, Adam heard the clunk of doors opening, and voices. “Holly Jo, I can’t see outside,” he whispered. “What’s happening?”

“They’re getting out of the ATV,” she replied. Her words were slightly distorted, interference crackling in the background. Even with the quadrotor relaying the signal, they were now far enough away from the op center aboard the plane for it to be degraded. “Some more people are getting out of the chopper.”

“That must be Sevnik,” Tony added. “That’s a colonel’s uniform.”

Straining to listen, Adam could just about make out parts of the conversation outside. Zykov greeted the other Russian cheerfully, though Sevnik’s response was more restrained. The arms dealer then introduced al-Rais to his seller. Neither was impressed by the other, their mutual disdain clear, but matters moved straight on to business.

“Two of al-Rais’s men have brought out suitcases,” Holly Jo reported. “Al-Rais is opening them … they’re full of money.”

“They’re full of a
shitload
of money,” Kyle cut in excitedly. “So that’s what seven million big ones looks like, huh?”

“Sevnik is checking it,” Holly Jo went on. “He seems
happy. They’re closing the cases—wait, now they’re coming back toward you.”

The Russian voices drew closer. “So where is the RTG?” asked Zykov.

“In a mine, not far from here,” said another man: Sevnik.

“Near the lagoon?”

“How did you know about that?” The officer’s voice suddenly filled with wariness—and threat.

Zykov remained relaxed. “An educated guess. I checked a map—considering how the RTG is going to be transported, it seemed logical.”

“I see.” Sevnik was not pleased to have been out-thought, but continued: “Very well. I will give you the position so you can land your plane.”

“Zykov’s making a call,” said Holly Jo.

“Can you intercept it?” Adam asked.

“Already on it—I got his number last time, and NSA has a back door into the satellite network.”

Once Zykov had a connection, Sevnik gave him a set of coordinates, which the arms dealer relayed to his contact. “Did you get that?” Adam asked as the call ended.

“We got it,” Holly Jo replied. “The coordinates are about five miles southeast of your position. There’s a long lake—they’re on the western shore.”

“The RTG is there. Tony, they’re not taking it to the airport—they’re going to fly it out directly!”

“A seaplane?” Tony asked.

“It has to be. Baxter and his team need to get out there, right now. It’s our only chance of stopping them.”

“Those coordinates are over eight miles from us! We’ll never make it in time.”

“You’ve got to. I’ll do whatever I can to slow them down—hold on.” Zykov, Sevnik, and now al-Rais were talking again.

“You want to come with us?” Zykov asked, surprised. “Your helicopter is a lot more comfortable than this thing—and faster!”

“I’m staying close to the money,” Sevnik replied. “A couple of my men will come with me. The others will fly to the mine.”

“You do not trust me?” al-Rais growled.

“I don’t trust
anyone
. I am committing an act of treason by selling you the generator—if the government finds out, I will be shot! I want to be a long, long way from Russia before anyone realizes what has happened.” He shouted orders. “Now let’s go.”

“Some of your men will have to ride in the trailer,” Zykov told al-Rais. “There isn’t enough room for everyone up front.”

Alarm filled Adam. He lifted the tarpaulin from his face—to see Bianca peeking out from under her own cover, unable to follow the Russian conversation outside and wanting to know what was going on. “Hide, hide!” he hissed at her. She hurriedly pulled the tarp back down.

Adam did the same. Movement outside, muttered words—then the trailer shook as the tailgate was dropped. Men clambered in. The bench above Adam creaked as a man sat heavily on it, followed by another.

He raised the edge of the tarp just enough to see the floor. Four pairs of boots were planted on it, two on each side of the cabin. He glanced toward the front of the trailer. The cases containing the PERSONA gear were partly visible under the sheets, the clean metal contrasting sharply with the dirty surroundings. If the terrorists noticed that they looked out of place and investigated …

One of the men closed the tailgate. Outside, the helicopter started up. The Vityaz’s engine snarled, the ATV lurching back into motion. All Adam could do was hold himself in place and endure the journey to their final destination—and hope Bianca could do the same.

“The crawler’s moving,” Kyle said. His main monitor showed the Vityaz turning southeast across the valley, the Hind lifting off in a whirling cloud of rotor-blown snow behind it.

“God, I hope they’re okay,” said Holly Jo anxiously. “How many bad guys got into the back?”

“Four.”

“I would
so
not want to be in there. Bianca’s braver than I thought.”

“Or stupider.” Kyle looked up as Tony hurried past him—wearing a heavy coat and carrying a handgun, to which he was attaching a silencer. “Brah, uh … what’re you doing?”

“That’s a good question,” said Baxter. His team had assembled at the front of the cabin, Fallon peering through binoculars at the terminal. “We can handle this, Tony.”

“You’re outnumbered at least two to one,” Tony countered as he shoved the pistol inside his coat and donned a radio headset. “You need all the help you can get.”

“That’s not—”

“This isn’t open for discussion, John,” he said firmly. “If al-Rais gets the RTG onto a seaplane, it could end up anywhere. We’re only sixty miles from US soil. No matter what, we’ve got to stop that plane from taking off.” He picked up a G36 rifle and loaded it. “Are we being watched?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” replied Fallon.

“Good.” Tony looked back at Kyle. “Get the UAV to the coordinates at the lake—I want to know what we’re dealing with. Okay, everyone grab your skis. We’ve got eight miles to cover, and we need to do it fast!”

The second leg of the Vityaz’s journey was as uncomfortable as the first—and all the more so for the two stowaways. The vehicle made another steep ascent out of the valley. It took considerable effort for Adam to hold himself in his hiding place.

Making matters worse, one of the cases slid out from under the sheets as the Vityaz climbed. Several heart-stopping moments passed—would any of the terrorists be curious enough to look inside?—before a man irritably kicked it away, but it ended up jammed against Adam’s legs. Each time it moved, it tugged at the tarpaulin. If it slithered loose again, it would expose his feet …

Fortunately, the ATV eventually reached more level ground, before dropping sharply back down on the hill’s far side. Another long trudge across the snowy landscape, and finally the torment ended as the Vityaz rattled to a halt. The tailgate clanged down, and the four men jumped out.

Adam waited until he was sure they had moved away before raising the tarp. “Bianca?” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

She hesitantly looked out from her own cover like a small animal emerging from its nest. “I haven’t been killed, so … yes. What’s happening?”

“Baxter and his team are on their way. Holly Jo?”

“Yes?” came the reply through his earwig. There was even more interference than before.

“Where’s John?”

“They’re about five miles out.”

“That didn’t sound like a good answer,” said Bianca, seeing his grim expression.

“It wasn’t. At that rate, it’ll take them well over an hour to get here.”

“They’re on skis, so they’ll make better time once they reach the downhill slopes,” Holly Jo assured him. “They can follow a valley down to the lake and approach your position from the south.”

It was better than nothing. “Is the UAV here?”

“Yeah,” said Kyle, “but the signal’s pretty weak ’cause of the distance and the hills.”

“Do the best you can. What do you see?”

“You’re about a quarter mile from some buildings by the lake, but they’re wrecks. The chopper’s landed not far from you.”

“What are the bad guys doing?”

“They’re walking to the helicopter. They didn’t leave anyone guarding the ATV, but the driver’s still inside.”

“Okay.” Adam crawled out from under the bench, standing and stretching with relief before moving to the open tailgate. Bianca got up behind him. He gestured for her to stay put, then looked out.

Beyond were the first trees he had seen since arriving in Russia, a stand of stunted, snow-heavy conifers. The Vityaz had stopped on relatively level ground between the long lagoon and the steep hill to the west. The waters around the shore were still frozen, but not far out the ice had thawed and broken up enough to be navigable.

As if his thought had acted as a trigger, he heard the distant drone of an engine.

But it was no boat.

He leaned out of the trailer, searching for the source. More trees along the shore blocked his view. “Kyle, there’s a plane coming in from the south. Can you see it?”

“Hold on, I’ll have to turn the drone around …”

While he waited, Adam surveyed his surroundings. The
Hind had landed a hundred yards away. Zykov, al-Rais, and Sevnik were leading their respective followers toward it. Two of the terrorists carried the cases of money. Past the helicopter, something stood out even under the snow—a line running from a cutting through the trees across the flat ground and up the side of the hill. A railroad track? It led to a tumbledown structure about two hundred feet higher, rusted machinery around it.

The mine entrance.

Probably dug to extract tin or tungsten, according to Adam’s research on the area, it now contained a far deadlier element. Somewhere inside was a container full of radioactive strontium.

And the world’s most-wanted terrorist was about to take delivery of it.

The thought of al-Rais again caused a brief surge of hate to rise inside him. But why?

He forced the question—and emotion—aside as Kyle’s distorted voice sounded in his earwig. “Adam, I’ve got a seaplane on camera. It’s a Beriev Be-200 amphibious jet—pretty cool, actually.”

“It’s a jet?” That made matters worse: If al-Rais got away with the RTG, he would have the advantage of both speed and range over the image of the lumbering boat-like turboprop Adam had associated with the word
seaplane
. Even with the array of US satellites attempting to track it, over the empty wilds of eastern Russia or the vast nothingness of the Pacific it could easily be lost.

“Yeah. Looks like the pilot’s overflying the lake to check the ice. He’s probably going to come back from the north to land.”

That meant only minutes before the Beriev splashed down. Adam looked at the helicopter. The group had now reached it. Sevnik and al-Rais apparently still did not trust each other, an animated debate taking place before agreement was reached over who should keep hold of the money. The cases were placed on the ground by the Hind,
wary Russian soldiers facing two of the terrorists over them. The others continued toward the mine.