Disclaimer: I do not own Jonny Quest. I am making no money off of this and it is purely for fun and enjoyment.
Chapter 4
Doctor Askar Arman poorly attempted to hide his anxiety as he stood nervously before General Vostok. Of course, Askar had not planned that on his first face to face meeting with the General himself being when that he'd be reporting such a significant loss to his potential buyer. Askar's eyes darted back and forth as he watched Vostok silently pacing back and forth, his leather boots making a distinct thud against the hardwood floors of Askar's spacious loft. Two of Vostok's men flanked Askar, effectively preventing the disgraced scientist from making any attempt to escape.
"So, Doctor," Vostok gave the weary man a hard look as he continued to pace threateningly in front of Askar. "You say you've lost the sample?"
Askar gulped, unnerved by the subtle implication of Vostok's tone. "Not lost, it was stolen."
"How did a thief manage to steal it then?" Vostok grilled. He had stopped pacing and now stood directly in front of Askar.
"I..well..." Askar stuttered.
"Spit it out." Colonel Yasimov barked from behind Vostok.
"It was a woman," Askar blurted out.
"A woman?" Vostok sneered. "You let a woman get the better of you? No wonder your people were never as strong as us."
Askar took the insult in stride, unwilling and unable to defy Vostok, even at the expense of his dignity and pride. "She was quite cunning, Vostok." Askar threw out. "But,"
"But what?" Vostok asked.
"I do not think she was after the sample. You see, I had it hidden in a small satchel and it is that satchel that she took." He purposefully left out the main contents of the satchel.
"What about the papers?" Yasimov inquired.
"She took those as well." Askar mumbled.
"So this woman not only has the sample, but also the documents pertaining to their development and use." Vostok tapped his booted foot upon the floor as he spoke.
"Without the components there is nothing she can do," Askar added, attempting to not only redeem himself, but knowing that if he didn't express his continued usefulness then he might not make it out of his current situation alive. "The sample is too small by itself to be on any value to anyone else." However, Askar knew the last sentence was a lie.
"Can you reproduce it?"
Askar nodded vigorously at the question, "Yes, yes I can. I will need to gather some more materials, but I can create another."
Vostok pondered the situation for the moment, then replied. "Do not make another sample, Doctor. I want the completed product. Your blunder has thrown our timetable for a loop, so we will need to act sooner than anticipated."
Askar lowered his head, "I understand."
"Begin immediately, Doctor. One of my men will stay with you to ensure you remain...focused."
"I will not fail, Vostok."
A humorless grin spread across the bald Russian's face, "No, Doctor. You will not."
Turning on his heel, Vostok left the threat hanging as he departed the scientist's presence.
Minutes later, Vostok emerged on to the street as the brisk late morning air brushed along his pate. Yasimov came up to his superior's side and asked, "Can he be trusted?"
"He will do as instructed." Vostok replied. "Once he completes the formula he will be of no further use. He let a woman get the best of him. I cannot accept such incompetency amongst my followers."
Yasimov nodded, "Understood, General. What about the woman? If she knows what she has,"
"Get as much information on this woman from Askar as you can," Vostok instructed, "Then fine her, retrieve what she has stolen from me and eliminate her."
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As late afternoon rolled in, Race found himself meandering about near the first courtyard of the Prague Castle. Having witnessed the changing of the guard earlier, Race took the rest of the day as an opportunity to walk about the castle's grounds, observing the groups of tourists that visited the infamous fortress, keeping a lookout for any person that appeared overly interested in either the guards or the actual Garrison entry points which were located deep within the castle grounds.
Watching as the sun began its decent beyond the wall, Race made his way back towards the main gates of the grounds, heading towards the point where he and Phil had planned to meet back up at the pre-arranged time. Earlier, Agent Corbin had headed off in the direction of the small barracks buildings, located off in the distance, a ways away, but still within visual range, from the busy and bustling scene of the Prague Castle.
Waiting just outside the gates, beyond the posted guards, Race glanced about at the dwindling crowd. A determined conviction flowed through Race as he scanned the faces of the innocents. It angered him that people like Vostok would never think twice about inflicting death and suffering upon people such as these, harmless people that were nothing except collateral damage to men like Vostok.
Minutes ticked away as Race's mind wandered before he caught a glimpse of his partner approaching. Standing Race moved to meet the man in stride, "You find anything?" Race asked as he came up next to Corbin.
Turning to walk away from the Castle, Phil reported, "Some good spots for cover and concealment. We should be able to keep both locations under observation from one centralized point. The barracks aren't very well guarded either, only a pair of guards at the main gate guard-shack."
"Which is where they'll stay if it rains tonight like it's supposed to." Race threw in. "Giving Vostok a perfect opportunity to move in and strike."
Phil nodded his agreement to the other man. "I'm hungry. You want to get something to eat before heading back to the hotel? It could end up being a long night."
"Yeah, let's go." Race grinned, realizing as well just how hungry he was, even with the built up anticipation of the evening's stakeout.
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Jade continued to glance over her shoulder as she made her way down the crowded streets, heading for a meet with one of her local contacts. Ever since she had discovered the black vial amongst the stolen jewels, she could not shake the feelings of being followed and watched.
She didn't want to risk opening the tube, but needed to know exactly what was inside of it in order to determine her next course of action.
In full stride, Jade gracefully edged her way off of the main road and down a side alleyway off of the main square. She was in the more modern district of Prague, with high end shopping that appealed to the locals more so rather than the tourists. At the end of the alleyway, she found the stairwell her contact had directed her to and descended. Wrapping her fist against the door four times she waited and moments later the door opened for her. Moving quickly, Jade was met by a young Czech man with long dark hair and arms covered in tattoos. He didn't say anything to her, only nodded his head down the hall before closing the door and falling in step behind the mysterious woman.
The hallway ended with another door and pushing her way through it her nostrils were assaulted with the reeking odors of marijuana, ink, blood, cigarettes, and booze. Loud, but somewhat muffled heavy metal music pounded through the walls and a closed door that was off to the left of the back of the room. She was inside an underground tattoo parlor and before her sat her contact who was currently aiding more body-art to a twenty-something blonde girl's shoulder. He was a wiry young man, no older than twenty-five, with short close cropped hair, dark rimmed glasses, and a body covered in artwork. He was currently shirtless and had a cigarette burning in an ashtray at his side.
"What do you want?" The artist asks without looking up from his work.
"I need your help identifying something for me." Jade replied smoothly.
Setting the needle down the man dabbed at the girl's skin with a sterile cloth. . Swiveling in his chair, snapped his gloves off, grabbed his cigarette and took a drag from his smoke. "What is in it for me?"
"The usual fee, Gregor." Jade replied with a sly smile.
"Hmph." Gregor grumbled, but then waved her forward. "Let me see it."
Jade stepped forward and withdrew the black tube from her purse. As soon as his eyes fell upon the tube in her hand, Gregor shot up from his stool and backed off, hands raised. "What the hell is that?"
Caught off guard by the man's strange reaction, Jade explained. "I found it hidden amongst some other...items I just received."
"Get it out of here." Gregor pointed at the door.
"What's the problem?" Jade asked.
"You bring a blacked out test tube into my shop and ask me what the problem is? I have no idea what's inside that thing. From whom did you acquire this vial?"
Jade figured it was time to give up at least some information in order to secure Gregor's aid. "An ex-Kazakhstani scientist that is working with some bad people."
"What kind of scientist?" Concern evident in the Czech man's tone.
"The bad kind. I think whatever is in this tube could be extremely dangerous."
Gregor eyed Jade suspiciously for a long moment, before relaxing just a tad. "I can't help you, not here. But if whatever is in that tube is dangerous, as you say, what do you plan to do with it?"
"I know some men that can help." Jade offered. "I think they are here looking for this or at least for the man that made it."
Gregor's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"Two American Intelligence Agents that are here in your city right now." Jade replied. "I just hope they'd be willing to listen."
"Americans are stubborn, but they are our allies. Why wouldn't they listen?" Gregor offered.
Jade smiled sheepishly as she shrugged and put the vial back in her purse. "Well, I did steal from one of them a few years ago. And the other, well, I kind of almost killed him the other night."
Gregor rolled his eyes as he lit another cigarette and laughed. "Typical Jade."
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"Perhaps we were wrong about Vostok's plan to steal the rest of his bomb making components from the Garrison." Phil stated in a hushed tone.
He and Race had been lying in wait, concealed within a cusp of trees that gave them a view of both the barracks and the Prague Castle. As the evening hours dwindled away into the early morning hours of the following day, the darkness and the cold crept over both men as they conducted the stakeout diligently throughout the night until dawn as planned. As if the circumstances surrounding their mission weren't dismal enough, approximately forty-five minutes ago, the weather had taken a turn for the worse and it had begun to rain. As the minutes crept by, the rain steadily increased and the two men found themselves lying on the cold, wet ground and getting thoroughly soaked in the process.
Race shook his head. He was convinced that if Vostok was going to set off a biological device that the components he needed to hardwire the conventional device with the biological agent's delivery system could be obtained at the Garrison from its Explosive Ordnance Disposal Team that protected Prague's seat of Governmental power. "No, he has to come here. Without the remaining components from the list, Vostok won't be able to create a dirty bomb."
"I see." Phil mumbled as he turned his attention back to scanning the grounds between the facilities through a pair of night-vision binoculars.
After dinner, Race had returned to his hotel room to conduct some follow-up research on his new partner, since it appeared that Phil was not the type of man to offer up information about himself on his own. Race knew and appreciated Phil's willingness to follow Race's lead in regards to the explosives which Race had learned was due to Phil's own appreciation of Race's superior knowledge in the area.
Searching the I-1 databanks, Race had learned that Phil's expertise fell within the human intelligence realm versus the hands-on combat scenarios that Race was accustomed to. Corbin had been recruited by Intelligence One from the US Army only a few years after the man had graduated from The United States Military Academy. While Race couldn't access the details, from what he had learned it appeared that one mission in particular that Phil had been assigned had caught the attention of the secretive intelligence organization and its offer was enough to convince both the man and the Army to release him from his obligation and transfer over to the Justice Department and Intelligence One. Race definitely planned on trying to find out exactly what had happened on that particular mission, but for now Race was happy with the pairing. He only wished that Phil was a bit more forthcoming with information. If Race hadn't of prodded the veteran agent about Jade, he doubted Phil would have mentioned her at all. At least, not until he felt it was relevant data.
As silence settled over the duo once again, Race gritted his teeth while mentally pushing the thoughts of how cold he felt from him mind, a technique he had learned during his days with the SEALs. Knowing that the hour had to be close to two in the morning, Race continued to scan the area when suddenly he heard a low rumbling off in the distance. "You hear that?" He whispered to his companion. "Sounds like a truck."
"Be ready." Phil nodded. "It looks like you may have been right, Bannon."
Race watched as a half a dozen figures emerged from the murky darkness, headed for the barracks. They moved with a stealth that told Race these men were no hired goons; they moved in concert with each other like professional soldiers.
As the group passed in the night, Phil motioned silently for Race to move, their plan being to encircle the group and cut them off from escape. Even with Race's assessment that their adversaries were trained professionals, the two I-1 agents would still have the element of surprise on their side. 'And we're pretty well trained too.' Race mused to himself as he moved through the trees and began to circle outwards, keeping the barracks in sight and the castle to his rear.
Moving through the blackness, Race made his way quickly, but silently to the next point, crouched, then waited until he saw Phil moving. Moving in tandem as such, the pair closed the distance and made their way closer and closer to the six black clad figures. Once Phil rejoined Race at his side, they both withdrew their standard issue sidearms, the Sig Sauer P220 Combat TB, and prepared to move in on the men before they could breach the barracks' walls. Race moved to stand, but froze as he heard another rumbling that was moving towards the other men. Phil grabbed Race's arm and pulled him back down then pointed towards an approaching Jeep.
The Jeep's headlights were off, but as it drew closer they could tell even through the distortion created by the rain, it was an old-style military vehicle with a canvas roof. As it came to a stop, the passenger door opened and a large, bald man dressed in a Soviet style Army uniform stepped out, followed by another similarly dressed man.
"Vostok." Phil breathed, his dislike for the Russian apparent to Race.
"Let's take him now." Race suggested.
"Wait," Phil stated, realizing the odds were quickly swaying in favor of their enemy.
Race frowned. Keeping his hands wrapped tightly around his pistol, he said, "I'm going to see if I can move closer; hear what that bastard is saying."
Nodding apprehensively, Phil stayed low and kept his weapon in his hands, ready if needed. "Be careful."
Race attempted to slink forward with as much stealth as possible. As he approached, he began to make out the conversation that was currently taking place between Vostok and the other Soviet Officer, the only problem for Race was that the conversation was currently taking place in Russian.
Grunting under his breath, Race continued to make his way closer, intent on catching the men off guard in order to move in for a quick arrest on at least Vostok; the others did not matter as much to Intelligence One; Vostok was the primary target.
Heading for the next collection of bushes, flanked by a cold steel and wooden bench, Race kept his pace even and quiet, yet before he could reach the coveted concealment, one of Vostok's men happened to glance directly in Race's direction.
"Hey!" The man shouted and pointed through the dark, the moon giving off just enough illumination to create a silhouette of the I-1 agent. "Over there."
"Get him." Vostok shouted causing the rainy night to erupt in a chorus of angered and startled shouts accompanied by the distinct sounds of weapons being loaded and charged.
"Shit." Only a few strides from the bench Race dove, sliding face first across the slick, wet grass just moments before a hail of gunfire exploded.
"Damnit, Bannon." Corbin voiced cracked in Race's ear. Ignoring his superior, Race crouched behind the bench, took up a position, and fired back at Vostok and his men.
"Move back." Corbin ordered. "There's too many of them."
Ducking to avoid the next onslaught of firepower, Race peered through the darkness, watching the black clad figures moving in his direction, working together to flank around and cut him off.
"They're circling around." Race stated, wondering what Corbin was doing. Turning to look back in the direction of the other I-1 agent, Race saw his partner was moving in a crouched position around the edge of his concealed position in order to peer out at their attackers. Race suddenly realized that Vostok and his men had no idea about the presence of the other agent. "I'll try to draw them off towards the stairs."
"Be quick about it, Race." Corbin replied. "The gunfire is going to draw the cops and the Garrison out."
Wiping a splatter of rainwater from his forehead, Race stole a quick glance over his shoulder, quickly judging the distance between his current spot and the top of the stairs that led down from the Castle to the road. Conducting a rapid ammo check, Race waited for a brief lull from their attackers, then popped up and fired.
At least one round found its mark, as the sounds of the down pouring rain were punctured by a pained yelp and shouts for assistance in the attackers' native tongue.
"Fools!" Vostok barked as he watched the white-haired man fire, then turn and run. "After him." Not having any idea who had been lying in wait or how the man had known of Vostok's intended target, he grumbled with anger as his remaining men broke off from helping their fallen comrade to pursue their prey.
"General, the Garrison." Yasimov started.
"Damn that man, whoever he is. Do not let him escape." Vostok growled.
Pulling his own pistol from its holster upon his hip, the Colonel grinned as he charged the weapon, chambering a round. "Yes, General."
As the two Russians stepped forward they were cut off by another burst of gunfire, but not from the white-haired man, instead the gunshots had come from their right. Dropping to the ground, Vostok sneered, "He's not alone."
"Who are they?" Yasimov asked as he kept his head down and watched their new foe emerge from behind a cusp of trees and run off in the direction of his comrade.
"Probably Americans." Vostok concluded, "But no matter. They are dead men now."
Scrambling to his knees, Yasimov took aim at the new man and fired.
Caught out in the open, Corbin dove as a hail of bullets impacted into the wet grass just inches from his feet. Hitting the ground hard, he exhaled sharply as he rolled to avoid the bullets.
"We cannot allow them to escape, Nikolai," Vostok threatened as he got to his feet and headed for the Jeep. "Come. We need to cut them off down below."
Frowning, stomach flat against the ground, Phil used to elbows and knees to scrambled through the rain and muddy grass, trying to find a spot where he could take a breather and reload. "Race, where are you?"
"At the stairs." Race responded almost immediately. "I managed to take out another of those Russian bastards."
"This isn't a competition, hotshot." Corbin laughed.
"Hell yes it is." Race replied.
Race bounded towards the top of the massive stairs. Over two hundred steps awaited the agent, but Race knew that going down was going to be a lot easier than going up, but he still had to remain cautious thanks to the rain and the remaining thugs.
Race headed down the steps with a quickness. A short distance behind him, the remaining Russian soldiers continue to chase him down. They fired in short rapid bursts as they moved together, providing covering fire for one another as they ran the American to ground. Race snorted as he turned and fired back, the gunshots ringing out to the point that Race was surprised that the entire Prague police force had not yet made it to the scene.
As the Russians took up positions at the top of the stairs, Race tucked himself into a corner of the wall in an attempt to make as small a target as possible for his adversaries. "Where are you?" Race asked into his mic.
"On my way." Corbin's reply was almost immediate.
Reloading, Race leaned out and blasted a succession of rounds up the stairs. Another wounded cry sliced through the cold, damp air. Capitalizing on the stunned state of his enemies, Race leaned out further from his concealment, fired, and began once again to head down the stairs. A short burst of gunfire rang forth as Race took a couple of steps. A sharp retort, a crack against the wall, and suddenly Race was smacked with a burning sensation in the side of his gut.
Staggering, he lost his footing. Collapsing, his knees impacted painfully with the smooth, slick steps. "Not good." He growled as his free hand pressed against his side, just beneath is flak vest. "Where the fuck are you, Corbin?" He asked through gritted teeth as he attempted to stand, but only managed to slide further down the steps.
Seeing the state of their prey, two of the Russian troops moved forward as the others decided to quickly head down the side of the hill towards the street in an attempt to surround Race as he remained trapped halfway down the stairs.
More gunshots filled the night, stopping the Russians on the steps in their tracks and causing them to duck for cover. Vaulting himself over the low wall, half way between the Russians and his partner, Corbin landed on the wet stairs, bracing himself from losing his footing on the slippery stone. Firing blindly upwards for cover, he moved down the stairs towards Race, who was ungracefully trying to stand, as he also tried to stem the bleeding from his gunshot wound, blood seeping forth between his wet fingers.
Coming up next to his partner, Phil grabbed Race by the arm to steady him while also pulling him to his feet. "How'd you manage to get shot?" He joked as Race braced himself against his partner before the two men headed down the stairs.
"Russian bastards." Race grumbled. "I think it's a ricocheted shot."
"Russian bastards that are still after us." Phil said. Race didn't like the tone in the man's voice. They both knew that they were still outnumbered and that Vostok's men were currently working to surround them.
Turning to fire back at the thugs above them every now and then, the two I-1 agents made their way down towards the street with the hopes to disappear down one of any number of dark alleyways before the Russians could close in on them.
Fatigue quickly setting in due to the bullet wound, Race struggled to stay on his feet, even with the assistance of Phil, but he could tell that supporting his larger, heavier frame was also taking its toll on Corbin.
"Where's Vostok?" Race managed to ask after another round of back and forth gunfire exchange.
"I don't know." Phil replied.
The pair was about twenty steps from the street when they once again heard the angered shouts of the Russians. "Where the hell are the cops?" Race asked, his breathing becoming labored.
"Stop talking." Phil said. "Besides, we need to get out of here before the cops arrive."
Race mumbled under his breath. Traversing the last step, the two agents turned and saw two of the Russians heading down the street towards them. The thugs had quickly made their way down the side of the steep hill and were now only about twenty yards from the agents. The men from atop the stairs were also quickly closing the gap, tightening the figurative noose around the necks of the I-1 men.
Raising his pistol, Phil fired at the duo on the street, hitting one as the other dove for cover. Off in the distance, they could hear the rumbling of the Jeep from atop the hill. No doubt, Vostok and his crony had headed down to the street in an attempt to cut them off.
"Come on, Bannon," Phil grunted as they made their way towards the closest alleyway. "This way."
Reaching the dark corner unmolested, Phil set Race down upon the rain drenched ground as a insulting stench wafted out from the unseen end of their backstreet hideaway. Kneeling down in front of his companion, Phil pulled Race's shirt up, revealing a single gunshot wound to the man's lower torso.
"Damnit." Phil grumbled as he reached around to quickly feel Race's back, somewhat relieved, but also dismayed that he couldn't locate an exit wound; the bullet was still inside Race somewhere.
"You have to leave me." Race stated between short gasps.
The shouts of their pursuers were once again drawing near.
"Not happening, Bannon." Phil said as he continued to crouch in front of his friend, his Sig Sauer held firmly in both hands. Peering around the corner, what he saw did not give him hope; the Russians were slowly closing in on their position.
"Both of us being dead won't do anyone any good, Phil." Race countered.
"Would you shut up." Phil grumbled, refusing to leave his friend, regardless of the consequences.
"No more running, you American pigs." Vostok bellowed as he strode purposefully down the deserted street, ignoring the wail of the closing sirens and the distant, confused voices of the Castle soldiers that were still atop the hill. "Come out now and I promise to kill you quickly. Unless of course I decide to use you as my test run subjects." Vostok laughed viciously as he threw out the last part.
"Why do these bad guys always have to make such ridiculous proclamations?" Phil mumbled. Race watched through hazy eyes as Corbin steadied his breathing and tighten his grip on his weapon.
Knowing what his partner was planning, Race coiled his hands on his own pistol as he looked at Phil and said, "Well, I guess we go out together then."
Giving the white-haired agent a smirk, Phil said, "Let's take as many of these assholes with us as possible, pal."
"I grow tired of this pathetic chase." Vostok was lauding as the two agents prepared to make their final stand.
As they prepared to spring their attack, the screaming of an engine being pushed to its max, could be heard speeding down the road.
"Look out!" One of the Russians shouted.
A white van shot down the narrow road and came to a slamming halt almost directly in front of the entrance to the alleyway. The side panel door slid open and a young, tattooed man with long black hair, a black metal band t-shirt, and ripped jeans jumped out, semi-automatic rifle in hand, and fired at the startled Russians.
The driver's side window was down and even through the rain, Race and Phil could see and hear their rescuer. "Get in."
"You!" Phil sneered.
"Get in, you stubborn bastard." Jade shouted back as she leaned out of the window, pointing a small handgun in the direction of Vostok and fired.
"Damnit." Phil grumbled. Quickly holstering his weapon, he grabbed Race's arm and hefted the big man over his shoulders into an impromptu fireman's carry. Scrambling behind the covering fire being provided by Jade and her confederate, Phil reached the van and gently, but swiftly tossed Race inside then climbed in as well. The tattooed rifleman jumped back in and slammed the door shut just as Jade hit the gas and sped straight towards the Russians, sending them diving out of the path of the vehicle.
A number of sharp turns later, the van disappeared from the sight of the Russians and the wails of the police sirens began to recede.
Phil examined Race again as they made their escape, then moved to the front of the vehicle to crouch down next to the driver. "My partner needs medical attention."
"We can't take him to a hospital. That's where Vostok will look for you next." Jade replied.
"Then where?" Phil asked.
"I know a guy." Jade replied.
Sneering at the woman, Phil rolled his eyes. "Of course you do, Jade."
"Oh and you're welcome, Corbin." Jade shot back as she watch Phil through the rearview mirror stumble back to his wounded partner's side.
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To Be Continued...