Tom Clancy Under Fire (32 page)

S
PELLMAN FROZE.
Jack stepped to the SUV and crouched beside the tire. Dom, who was standing beside the rear tire, showed Jack a closed fist, then a thumbs-up. With the ARX tucked into his shoulder, he poked his head around the Volvo’s corner post, fired once, then moved forward.

Jack heard the back door’s dead bolt slide back into place. Dom reappeared dragging a body. “We’ve got ourselves another ARX,” he whispered.

“Looks like Seth and these guys share the same armorer,” Jack replied.

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Spellman said from the Volvo’s driver’s seat. “Some of the city garrison troops are getting them from Moscow.”

“Does that mean these are regular Russian Army?” asked Dom.

“Possibly. If so, Volodin might be more committed to keeping Nabiyev in power than we thought.”

“Better find that out,” said Jack. “If the garrison decides to march on your protesters it could be a bloodbath.”

He and Dom frisked the bodies but found nothing.

Spellman hopped down. “Good news, bad news. The bad is there are no keys in the ignition and the hood lock is on remote.”

“Fuckin’ tank,” Dom muttered.

“The good news is I’ve got a VIN. Any bets on who it belongs to?”

“I’m going with President Nabiyev himself,” Jack replied with a smile.

“Always the optimist,” Dom said.

“Let’s get these guys in the back of the Volvo and keep moving. Somebody’s going to notice they’re short four men.”

•   •   •

AFTER DOM JERRY-RIGGED
a bar for the garage’s back door, they went out the front and crossed to Building One, cleared its outer walls, then stacked up outside the door. Dom pressed his ear to it for a few moments, then pulled back. He made a quacking-duck gesture with his hand, then held up two fingers and shrugged.

At least two men inside,
Jack thought.

Dom gestured again:
Bypass and keep moving.

Jack nodded.

Spellman, with his Dragunov slung over his back and his Ruger held at the ready-low position, took point. Jack was in the middle with their spare ARX slung over his shoulder. Dom brought up the rear, turning slow circles and scanning for movement as he walked.

In turn, they cleared the remaining admin buildings. All were empty and appeared to have been unoccupied for years. There was no sign of Pavel Koikov. They paused in the last building to down some water.

“He’s either in that first building or in one of the barracks,” Jack said.

“Unless they’re empty of furniture, clearing them is going to be a nightmare.”

From somewhere outside there came the hiss of radio static.

It stopped.

Dom crept to the tarnished window next to the door and looked out.

“Four more men coming from the direction of the barracks. All have SBRs. Okay, looks like they’re bypassing the garage and heading for Building One. They look relaxed.”

“That won’t last,” said Spellman. “Once they’re inside, somebody’ll do a head count.”

“How many bad guys does that make?” Jack asked. “Four we’ve downed plus at least two in Building One, then these four.”

“Sounds about right,” Dom replied. “That makes eleven, including Koikov. No way they all fit in that Volvo.”

“There’s another vehicle somewhere,” said Spellman.

And as many as six more men,
Jack thought.

•   •   •

WHILE THEY COVERED HIM,
Spellman climbed the tower.

“In place,” he radioed. “I’ve got decent sight lines except for the alleys between the barracks and behind the last row.”

“Roger,” said Dom.

“Just for clarity’s sake, what say we name them? From right to left, Bravo One, Two, and so on. Objections?”

“None,” Jack replied.

“The guy up here had another ARX. You want it?”

“Keep it,” said Jack. “In case you get rushed.”

“There’s a cheery thought,” Spellman replied. “Okay, I’m set. Move when you want.”

By mutual agreement, Jack and Dom had decided to simply spread apart and walk the remaining hundred yards to the barracks—bodies moving at speed were easier to spot in the darkness.

They had crossed a third of the distance when Spellman called, “Hold.”

In unison, Dom and Jack froze, then slowly crouched.

“Side door opening on Bravo One.”

The man trotted down the barracks’ short steps, then started walking toward the tower.

“Hold . . .” Spellman whispered to them. “I want to put some distance between him and the barracks.”

“Hold . . . Firing.”

In mid-stride the man collapsed to his knees, then rolled onto his side, dead.

“You’re clear,” Spellman called.

“I’m going to check him,” Dom said. He trotted over to the man, frisked him, then returned to where Jack was crouching.

“He had Volvo keys,” Dom said.

“We’re moving again, Matt.”

“Roger.”

They reached the first building and went around to the side steps. Dom signaled for Jack to wait, then headed to the barracks’ rear corner. He returned a moment later and whispered, “No sign of a second vehicle. It’s gotta be behind the last row.”

“How’s your Russian?” Jack whispered.

“Nonexistent.”

Jack opened the door a few inches. Aside from the strip of light Jack had just created, the interior was black. A few feet away he saw the outline of a triple-tiered bunk and the corner of a rotting mattress. The air was so pungent it stung his eyes.

Jack put a rasp in his voice and called softly,
“Ey, drug!”
Hey, friend.

He got no response.

“Matt, we’re entering Bravo Three.”

“Roger. Nothing moving out. There’s music coming from Building One. Sounds like they’re having a party.”

“With vodka, hopefully,” Dom added.

Guided by their penlights, they moved down the barracks’ center aisle, checking bunks as they went until they reached the next door.

“On our way out, moving to Bravo Two,” Jack radioed.

“Hold position,” Spellman replied.

There was thirty seconds of silence.

“Okay, you’re clear to move. I heard a car door open and shut. Sounds like it came from behind Bravo Eight.”

The middle barracks in the back row,
Jack thought. “Moving.”

Inside the next building they found a battery-powered lantern glowing beside the last bunk. On the mattress was a sleeping bag, still slightly warm from where Spellman’s last kill had been sleeping.

“Heading to Bravo Four,” Jack radioed.

•   •   •

IN TURN,
they cleared the next three buildings. They had just walked up to the steps outside Bravo Nine when Jack heard a series of rapid clicks over his headset. It was their prearranged warning signal.

Jack whispered, “Movement?”

Spellman replied with a single click:
Yes.

“Our end?”

Double click:
No.

“Yours?”

There was a pause and then Spellman said, his voice barely a whisper, “Coming up the ladder.”

•   •   •

JACK HEARD
the double pop of a handgun, followed by one more.

“Shit!” Dom growled.

“Go put eyes on the other car,” Jack ordered.

Dom hopped off the steps, sprinted to the corner of the building. After a moment he said, “Nothing.”

“Hold there and keep me posted.”

Jack went left and crossed the entrance of the alley to the front barracks, where he crouched down. He aimed his binoculars at the tower and zoomed in. There was no sign of Spellman.

“Matt,” he called.

No response.

“Give me a click . . . something if you’re alive.”

Spellman came on the line, breathing heavily. “I’m alive. I got another dead one up here with me. Had to bash the fucker’s head in. You guys okay?”

Before Jack could answer, Dom replied, “Nope. I got movement back here. Three guys coming out of Bravo Six and heading for an SUV, looks like another Volvo. They’re pushing a fourth guy ahead of them. His head’s covered by a blanket. Gotta be Koikov.”

“Do you have a shot on the others?” Jack asked.

He heard the muffled crack of Dom’s ARX. “Got one,” he replied. “The rest are in the vehicle. It’s moving away, coming around the other side of the building.”

Jack radioed Spellman: “Matt, get ready to put some rounds in the engine block.”

“Roger.”

“Dom, come to me.”

“Roger.”

On the other side of the tower, Jack saw a rectangle of light slant across the ground. “Matt, someone’s coming out of Building One,” he called.

“Try to keep ’em off me.”

Jack raised his ARX, looking for a target. He heard the roar of the Volvo’s engine. He glanced right. The SUV came around the corner of the first barracks, its tail end skidding, throwing up an impenetrable cloud of dust.

“I got no shot!” Spellman shouted.

A few seconds later, the Volvo charged from the cloud and accelerated toward the tower. The muzzle of Spellman’s Dragunov flashed once, then again. A pair of holes appeared in the Volvo’s hood and the vehicle began slaloming.

“Adjusting,” said Spellman.

Dom came up behind Jack and together they sprinted after the Volvo.

The Dragunov flashed again. “Hit.”

Steam gushed from the Volvo’s grille, but it kept going, rapidly closing the gap to the tower and leaving Jack and Dom behind, enveloped in swirling dust.