Disclaimer: I do not own Jonny Quest. I am making no money off of this and it is purely for fun and enjoyment.
Chapter 11
"Over here." Jade called.
She, along with Race, Gregor and Alexander had arrived at the location from the paper found in Pavel's hand. Immediately Race had been on guard, seeing the car that Phil had stolen was abandoned. All of his attempts to raise the other agent over the comms unit had been unsuccessful.
Examining the car, Race found what appeared to be damage from bullets and surmised that whatever happened, it had not been good for the other I-1 Agent. Cursing inwardly, Race glanced at his watch; it had been almost two hours since Phil took off from the Charles Bridge.
Drawn to the sound of Jade's voice, Race frowned and walked over towards where she was crouching on the far side of the road. "Found something?" He asked as he came over to where she was crouched down, examining the ground.
With a short nod, Jade looked up at Race, "Looks like blood."
Shaking his head, Race knelt down next to the woman and confirmed what she found. The splattering of the dark, semi-wet blotches did indeed appear to be blood. "Yeah, but if its Phil's blood there's certainly not enough here to suggest he's dead."
As they stood, Alexander was climbing back up from the ditch just ahead of them. As he emerged, he handed over a mud covered handgun to Race. "Damnit," Race growled. "This is Phil's weapon."
"There's indications down there of what looks to have been a struggle and also drag marks." Alexander stated. "Looks like your partner was captured."
"Damn him!" Race proclaimed. "I told him not to go out on his own."
"Calm down, Race. He can't have been taken that long ago." Jade stated, trying to be the voice of reason, but also feeling the sense of frustration that Race was displaying; she also knew the timeline and that if Corbin was with Vostok, he had been so for over an hour.
Rubbing his chin, Race saw that the others were looking to him for guidance, for orders. Finally he said, "We need to get him back. Vostok doesn't seem like the type to hold prisoners for very long. Once Corbin's of no more use to him, then Vostok will kill him."
"We have to get to him before that happens." Gregor stated the obvious.
"Let's just hope he doesn't piss Vostok off and make him angry." Jade added as they gathered back over at the van to collect the necessary gear.
"We need to get to him before that happens." Race stated. "I'm sure Phil will run his mouth to try and get Vostok talking. Which could be both good and bad."
Minutes later the team was ready and again turned to Race with looks of determination. "So here's the plan," Race started. "Jade, you and Gregor look for Phil. Alexander and I will look for evidence of the second bomb and destroy it if necessary."
"That's it?" Gregor laughed.
"Simple gets it done." Race smirked then motioned for them to move out.
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A hard smack across the face jolted Corbin awake. He was groggy and the left side of his face ached from where Yasimov's thug had cracked him with the butt of his rifle. His leg also burned from the gunshot wound and his head pounded from within.
As his senses returned, the first thing that hit him was the stench. Wherever he was being held reeked and he assumed from the smells of mold, mildew, and an overall wetness that he was being held in the basement of the farmhouse where Vostok was hiding. It was also damp and the chill penetrated Phil to the core. Shuddering he noticed that his captors had stripped him of his jacket and shirt and all he wore was an undershirt and jeans. They had also been kind enough to leave his shoes on, which told Phil that they didn't think he would have a chance to escape. 'Not a good sign.' Phil thought.
"Get up." He heard a rough voice order.
Groaning, Phil didn't move, but instead leaned back against the cold stones of the structure.
"I said get up." The man shouted as he reached down and hauled Phil to his feet.
"Where are you taking me?" Phil managed to ask as another man came forward and grabbed his other arm.
"Shut up and do as you are told." The second man stated as they hauled him through a door and into an adjoining room. The room was larger than the small closet like area, probably an old wine cellar, he had just been in and as they tossed him down to the floor in the center of the room he tried to take in his surroundings, looking for any possible escape routes. Two sets of stairs, one leading up into the house and another that appeared to lead to the exterior of the house, and a number of small windows, one of which was already broken was all he was able to see before his concentration was interrupted by a deep, rumbling, and humorless laugh.
"Hello, comrade." General Vostok spoke with a gravelly tone that displayed his true intentions. Stepping out of the shadows, Phil took in the General's massive form as the big Russian stood before him, his hands balled into fists, resting on his hips. Off to the side was a wooden table upon which sat most of Phil's belongings, sans pistol, a cloth and a number of jugs of water.
"I already told your lackey, I'm not your fucking comrade." Phil replied.
"Yes," Vostok laughed as Yasimov snorted in disgust from where he stood near the table. "He mentioned that."
"What do you want?" Phil questioned. "You know I'm not going to tell you anything."
"You will tell me what I want to know, Agent Corbin. I have no doubt about that."
Corbin glared at the General which invoked another laugh from his adversary.
"You tried to kill innocent people, you sick bastard. And you murdered Pavel."
"The old man got what he deserved. Just as you will." Vostok snapped his fingers and the two guards grabbed Phil by the arms, once again forcing him to kneel.
"You call yourselves soldiers? You're nothing more than murderous thugs." Phil shot back, the tension of his situation bundling up his nerves and his muscles. He struggled against the men that held him, but to no avail.
"Silence." Vostok shouted as his anger at Phil's words bled through his rough and cold demeanor.
"You'll never get away with this, Vostok." Phil continued to struggle against the men that restrained him, but they held him firm. Yasimov snatched the cheesecloth from the table and moved behind the prisoner, obviously enthralled by what was about to happen.
"Now, Agent Corbin," Vostok said, "let me show you why the Soviets are more resilient than you Americans. Let's see how long until you start to talk."
Grabbing a handful of Phil's hair, Yasimov jerked the Agent's head backwards as Vostok strode forward and grabbed one of the jugs from the table with a cool confidence that set Phil's nerves on edge. Standing directly in front of the Agent, who continued to struggle, Vostok scowled at his prey.
Still holding firm, Yasimov placed the cloth over Phil's face as Vostok began to pour the contents of the jug over his face and head. Phil struggled even harder, attempting to break free from the grasps of the men, but the struggle proved useless. His mind and body worked against one another, as Vostok continued to water-board him, creating the belief in Phil's mind that he was drowning. Vostok laughed evilly as he watched his captor's futile struggles. After empting half the contents of the jug, Vostok stepped back as Yasimov pulled the cloth away.
Phil heaved and choked as the Russians laughed mercilessly at his pain.
"That is just the beginning, comrade." Vostok said.
Phil gritted his teeth and worked to set his mind at ease. Vostok grinned as Yasimov once again went through the motions of jerking the man's head back and placing the cloth on his face. Once set, Vostok moved forward and repeated his torturous task over and over.
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Moving towards the private drive, Race, Jade and the two young Czechs halted in their tracks at the sounds of approaching vehicles.
"Get down." Race ordered, not sure what was happening. Quickly moving off the road and into the wood line the group concealed themselves and watched as three military vehicles lumbered down the road and stopped next to their own van.
"What the hell is going on?" Jade whispered as they watched a number of fatigue clad soldiers disembark the vehicles. "They aren't Russians."
Race pursued his lips as he watched. "No, those are Czechs. I have no idea what's going on." He glanced at Gregor who shrugged back at him.
"Agent Corbin. Agent Bannon." A voice from the group of soldiers called out.
"What the hell?" Race mumbled.
"We know you are here and we have come to help." The Commander of the forces called out.
Race went to stand and felt Jade tug at his arm, "It could be a trap."
"It could be, but I don't think it is."
He stood and emerged from the wood line, hands raised as the soldiers saw him and pointed their own weapons at him. Race's rifle was slung over his shoulder and hung at his side, so as he stepped forward he ensured he kept his hands visible.
A young Lieutenant stepped forward and motioned for his men to lower their weapons. Approaching each other, the Lieutenant looked Race up and down, "You are?" He asked as the two men met.
"Race Bannon," He replied. "And you?"
"Lieutenant Martinek from the Castle Garrison." The man held out his hand which Race shook. "We are here to help. We have air support en-route."
"How did you know about us?" Race asked as the rest of his team stepped out of the wood line.
"I'll explain later," The soldier replied. "Where is your partner?"
"We think he's been captured by Vostok." Race answered grimly.
"We should get moving to the farmhouse." Lieutenant Martinek nodded and motioned for his troops to join.
Race smiled, grateful for the assistance, and hefted his rifle once again. "Then let's move out."
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Fifteen minutes later, his tormentors stopped. The guards holding him let go, causing Phil to collapse to the cold, dirty floor. Taking a number of deep breaths and coughing at the same time, Phil looked up at Vostok with defiance. "Give it up, Vostok. You can torture me, kill me, it doesn't matter. The Cold War is over. You lost. You'll always be the loser."
Vostok scowled at the Agent's resolve. He had assumed the man would have broken under the simulating drowning torture, but he hadn't. He'd need to find another tactic to get the Agent talking, he needed to know what the Americans knew about his plans for the final attack.
The guards grabbed his arms again as Yasimov jerked Phil's head back, exposing his neck and with his other hand placed a knife against the I-1 Agent's throat. "You disrespect us? Let me kill him now, General."
Phil grinned, attempting to disguise his own fear and pain, "Go ahead and do it. It doesn't matter at this point. You'll never get away with any of this."
Vostok shook his head at Yasimov who grunted his disappointment, but let go. "I may yet slit your throat, American." Vostok started as he walked over to the table and picked up Phil's phone which had been reassembled. "However, there are still questions that need answering before I do."
Phil remained silent as he watched the General manipulating the device.
Vostok grinned as he retrieved the last text message Phil had sent from the phone. "My lookout at the Symposium reported that it appeared you had the aid of a number of locals here within the Czech Government."
"What of it?" Phil asked, knowing where Vostok was headed with his questions.
"Who did you send this message to and what does it mean?" Vostok asked as he held the phone for Phil to see.
"If you think the Soviet Union is so much stronger and more intelligent than America, figure it out for yourself."
Vostok frowned, then lashed out with a sharp punch to the side of Phil's face. The impact made a sickening crunch as the force caused the guards to stagger as their captive fell to the floor from the blow. 'Ok he's definitely strong.' Phil told himself as his face flushed with pain.
"Did you send this to your lady friend?" Vostok asked as he watched his captive spit a wad of blood onto the floor.
"I don't know who you're talking about." Phil replied.
"What do these numbers mean?"
Phil laughed which enraged the Russian once again. "You lie there on the ground like a dog and defy me? Answer my questions and I promise to kill you quickly. I want to know what this message means and what you know of my plans."
"I know you'll never get away with what you're planning." Phil said which resulted in another strike to the face from Vostok.
Groaning in pain, Phil could only hope that Race and the others were actually on the way; he was running out of time. He knew he could only stall Vostok for so long before the Russian gave up and killed him. He just hoped that Race would find him before that actually happened.
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Approaching the farmhouse with caution, Race could make out two main structures; the house itself and the barn. As he and the others observed from the wood line he counted at least twenty men stationed at various points throughout the property. Frowning he had to assume there were more, which left Race's team along with the Garrison men outnumbered.
"When is your chopper going to arrive?" Race asked the Lieutenant as the man came up to his side.
"Not long, they had to come from a location quite far from the city." Martinek responded.
"Alright," Race sighed. "We don't have time to wait. For all we know my partner could be dead already and we need to find the bomb. Jade, Gregor the plan is still the same. You two along with some of Martinek's men clear the house. That's probably where they are holding Phil."
After receiving confirmation nods from his companions Race turned his attention to Martinek. "Lieutenant, leave two of your men with me and take the rest with you and flank around towards the rear of the barn. Try to cut off any escape routes. Me, Alexander and your two men will flank to the other side and come up towards the front. Everyone got it?"
After receiving nods and grunts of confirmation from everyone, Race exhaled and said. "In five minutes everyone needs to be in position. My shot will signal the assault. Understood? No one fires until I give the signal. Remember, the only friendly is Corbin. Everyone else can be eliminated if they do not surrender. Now let's move."
As the teams headed off in their respective directions, Jade watched Race go. Gregor saw the smile on his friend's face. Smiling he said, "You really like that guy, huh?"
"He's one sexy hunk." Jade purred in response. "I'm kind of glad I didn't kill him when we first met."
Gregor snorted a laugh, "Kind of? You always were a character, Jade."
"Looks who's talking." she replied.
"When this is all done and over, just remember I want my cut of your prize." Gregor stated as they got into position and waited for the signal.
"You'll get paid, Gregor, don't worry about that."
"Now we just need to survive this fight right here." He smiled at her as he scanned the farmhouse, picking out his first targets.
"Yeah, we sure do." Jade mumbled.
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Vostok sneered as he motioned for Yasimov to hand over his knife. His patience was wearing thin and he knew the American wouldn't talk unless probably persuaded; torture was one thing, but what Vostok had in mind now was something even more sinister.
Weapon in hand Vostok knelt down in front of Phil, who was once again restrained, and said, "I am growing tired of you, Agent Corbin. Tell me what I want to know or else I'll take your manhood and send it to your pretty little girlfriend before I kill her as well." As if to drive his point home, he pressed the knife against Phil's groin, causing the Agent to wince.
"What do you say, comrade?" Vostok smiled evilly knowing the threat of mutilation and psychological trauma was far more effective than mere physical pain.
Jaw set firm, Phil said, "How many times do I have to say it? I'm not your fucking comrade."
"Tell me!" Vostok shouted as he pushed the blade harder, angered that his threats did not seem to work.
"You want to know what the numbers are?" Phil growled as he locked eyes with the General.
"Yes." Vostok breathed as he believed his threat had worked. Smiling he thought that perhaps he would still cut the Agent even after the man told him what he wanted to know. It would serve as payment for all the times the American and his allies had disrupted his plans.
"Grid coordinates." Phil smirked.
"What?" Vostok blinked.
"Grid coordinates for this farmhouse, comrade." Phil mocked. "They're coming for you."
"No!" Vostok growled. Standing he took a step back from Phil, perplexed by the man's answer.
As if to confirm Phil's statement, gunfire suddenly erupted outside. Shouting rang out from all around and moments later the distinct whomping of rotary blades of a low flying helicopter grew closer and closer. Phil laughed at the panicked looks on the Russians' faces. "You want to know who that message was for? I did text my pretty little girlfriend and the Garrison is about to rain fire down on you, asshole."
"Kill him!" Vostok ordered as he moved towards the stairs that led to the exterior of the house with Yasimov right on his heels.
Just as the guards moved into position to fire, the door from upstairs opened and just as quickly closed. Looking around in confusion, one guard shouted and pointed. Two small cylindrical devices had been tossed down the stairs and before anyone in the room could react, they exploded.
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Once in position, Race counted silently to three, then took aim at one of the guards outside the barn. As the man moved into Race's crosshairs, he inhaled, then squeezed the trigger.
The shot was on target and the man collapsed, dead before he knew what had happened. Within a second, the entire property erupted into chaos.
Grinning, Race was on his feet, "Let's move."
A silent mumble from Alexander and the other Czechs with him was all Race heard as he broke through the wood line. Weapon raised he scanned the area for targets. Automatic gunfire spewed forth from the upper landing of the barn, forcing Race and his companions to scramble for cover. Diving behind a stack of hay bales, Race and Alexander surveyed their situation.
"I think they are guarding whatever is in that barn." Race smiled at the metal head, who nodded before slinking along on his belly to the other side of the hay. Lying in the prone position, Alexander attempted to find the machine gunner in his sights, only to be forced back by another onslaught of bullets.
Joining the young Czech, Race placed a hand on the man's back and said, "We can't stay here forever. He'll shred this hay to pieces to get to us."
Looking at the two Garrison soldiers, Race ordered. "Try to draw the gunner out so we can get a bead on him."
The two soldiers exchanged looks of determination then nodded at Race who went to take up position opposite of Alexander. Once ready he nodded at the soldiers. One of the men popped upward and fired blindly towards the barn as the other scrambled out into the open, running for an abandoned tractor. Race held his breath as he watched the young troop running for is life as bullets zinged and whizzed past him, some impacting with the ground only inches from his feet.
Sliding behind the tractor, the young soldier took up a position and opened fire so his buddy could do the same as he just did. Race admired the young men's bravery and skills. Turning his attention back towards the balcony, Race watched as the machine gunner leaned outward, twisting behind his weapon in order to try and get a better aim on the running soldier.
'Perfect' Race thought as he watched and waited. As soon as the man exposed himself enough, Race squeezed off a round that slammed into the machine gunner's chest. As the man staggered from the blow, Alexander fired and hit the man square in the head. The dead man's momentum propelled him from the window and he crashed into the ground in a bloodied heap.
"Nice shot." Race exclaimed. "Now let's move before someone else takes up that weapon."
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"They're downstairs." Jade said as she and Gregor moved into the kitchen behind the Czech soldiers. Shouts could be heard from behind the door that was just off of the kitchen.
As soon as they had heard Race's shot, they had engaged the two guards outside the farmhouse, dropping them both within seconds before they could react. Moving swiftly through the open yard, they had made their way onto the porch and inside the house without any more incidents.
Once inside, they had found three bewildered guards inside the kitchen, but the Czech soldiers had been faster and before the Russians could even raise their weapons, the soldiers had eliminated them with well placed shots to the chests.
"Stand back." Gregor ordered her as the two soldiers flanked the door and withdrew two flash bang grenades from their ammo pouches.
Gregor grabbed the doorknob and with a nod to the men jerked the door open and slammed it shut immediately after they had tossed the grenades down the stairs.
More panicked shouts could be heard, then the grenades exploded with brilliant and immensely loud bangs. Jade only hoped that if Phil was still alive, he was cognizant enough to realize what was happening and react appropriately.
"Now!" Gregor ordered and yanked the door open again.
The two soldiers moved with trained efficiency and quickness. Descending the stairs, they took aim at the two shocked guards that stood dazed over the body of their American prisoner. The Czechs shouted commands and orders to the men to drop their weapons and when they did not compile, the soldiers fired. Both men hit the ground dead.
The soldiers moved through the basement, ensuring it was clear of any immediate threats. They found that the cellar's storm doors had been thrown open. "Others must have escaped through here." One said.
Jade moved towards Corbin, who was stretched out flat on his back, bloodied and barely conscious. Placing a hand on the wounded man's chest, she wrapped her other arm under his back and helped him sit up. "You alright, Phil?"
"I think I'm going to throw up." Phil grumbled as he leaned over to his side, trying to steady his equilibrium.
Jade laughed as she held on to him. Gregor came over and knelt next to them, "Let me check you out."
Phil nodded slowly and said, "Two concussion grenades was a bit excessive, don't you think?"
"Consider it payment for us having to come and rescue your overzealous ass, Phil." Jade remarked with a smile and a gentle pat to the man's head.
"Vostok and Yasimov?" He asked with concern.
"They got out, but Race and the others are still outside. They'll get them." Jade assured the wounded I-1 Agent, keeping her arms around him, preventing him from getting up. "Just stay down, you're in no condition to fight, let Race handle it from here on out."
Phil gave the woman a curt nod, "Thanks."
"Next time listen to your partner and don't run off like a damn fool. You're lucky Vostok didn't just kill you outright."
"Yeah, lucky me." Phil rolled his eyes as his head continued to swim, effects of not only the beating and torture he took, but also the concussion grenades.
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Backpack in hand Peter crouched low, surrounded by the Russian guards that were assigned to protect him. "Get me to Vostok." He ordered.
As the gunfire outside the barn continued on, the guards exchanged worried glances, but their leader simply said, "You heard him. We move out towards the farmhouse. Now!"
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"Vostok!" Race growled. Seeing the big Russian and the younger, blonde Colonel emerge from the storm entrance, Race turned his attention towards his main target.
"American scum." Vostok yelled, raised a handgun and fired in Race's direction. Diving for cover, Race saw the Colonel, AK-74 in hand, open fire on the Czech soldiers, wounding one as they tried to move out of the line of fire.
Grunting, Race watched as Vostok and Yasimov moved around the corner of the farmhouse and climb inside an armored Jeep. Cursing, Race got to his feet, took aim and fired, but his rounds pinged harmlessly off of the vehicle's protective plating.
As the Jeep roared to life, Race saw Martinek and his men emerge from around the corner of the barn, also concentrating their fire on the Jeep.
"We can't let them escape." Race shouted to no one in particular.
A gaggle of Russians poured forth from the barn, firing in all directions, pinning Race and Alexander down as well as hitting Martinek, who fell to the ground, immediately clutching his leg as two of his men dragged him back to safety.
"Damnit!" Race growled as the Russian General was quickly regaining the upper hand.
As the Jeep shot towards the group of Russian soldiers, Race turned his sights on the group, firing at the men, dropping two just as the Jeep sped in front of group, cutting them off from Race's sights.
"Get in." Vostok ordered to Peter as Yasimov slammed on the brakes.
Peter nodded. As he moved towards the rear of the Jeep, more gunfire rang out and Peter grunted, two rounds fired from Martinek's men hitting the bomb maker in the legs.
"Help." Peter cried as he staggered from the impact.
Vostok scowled as his soldiers took up positions to engage the Czechs again. Getting out of the Jeep, Vostok strode over towards his fallen bomb maker and snatched the backpack away from the man.
"What are you doing?" Peter's eyes widened as Vostok took the package from him.
"You have fulfilled your duties, comrade. Just know that the Soviet Union will rise again."
"Vostok, no," Peter pleaded.
"Goodbye." Vostok said, then raised his pistol at the man and shot him point blank in the head.
Climbing back into the Jeep he looked at Yasimov, "Drive."
"Yes, Sir." Nikolai replied. Throwing the Jeep into gear, both men heard the distinct whomping of the rotary blades of the inbound helicopter as it arrived at the fight.
"Too late, my Czech friends." Vostok laughed as they sped off and into the woods, using the trees as concealment from the helicopter that quickly came into view.
"Damn!" Race hollered as he stepped out from behind his position and let loose a hail of bullets at the retreating vehicle. "No, damnit, no!"
As the helicopter screamed by overhead, chasing the fleeing Jeep, Race continued to fire at the vehicle, but to no avail; within moments it disappeared into the wood line.
Looking around, Race surveyed the scene. Most of the Russians had been killed or wounded as well as two of the Czechs being killed and four, to include Martinek, wounded as well. The Russians that had surrendered were being rounded up by the rest of the Czech soldiers.
"Damnit all to hell." Race said as he watched the helicopter disappear in pursuit, but his gut told him that they would not catch the Russian General.
Running over to Lieutenant Martinek, Race knelt down next to the wounded man and gave him his thanks.
"But they got away." Martinek replied with a grimace as one of his men tended to his wound.
"I know, but we'll get them. We know where he's going to strike next." Race assured the man.
Meeting up with Alexander the two men went to the basement of the farmhouse where they had watched Vostok emerge. Going down they found Jade, Gregor, and Phil.
Kneeling next to Phil, who Race could tell had taken quite a bit of abuse, Race reported, "Vostok got away with the bomb."
Phil lowered his head, "Damnit, this is all my fault. If I hadn't of run off like an idiot,"
"Doesn't matter at this point," Race said as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. Race noticed Corbin's injuries, but also that he was drenched. Glancing around he saw the empty water jugs and quickly guessed what Vostok had done to the other man. "We know where he's going to strike."
Phil nodded, but Race could tell his words did little for set the veteran's mind at ease. Jade saw the looks on both men's faces as well and said, "Vostok's on edge now. He'll make even more mistakes."
"And we know what he looks like and can get the word out to the rest of the Garrison and the police." Race added. "Can you contact your friend again and see if now she can do something to convince the Government to call off or postpone the celebrations tomorrow?"
Phil shook his head and gestured at the soldiers and Martinek who had also joined them in the cellar once his leg was bandaged, "I called in this favor already."
"We should not call off the celebrations." Martinek stated with a firmness that drew the others' attention. "If we did Vostok would just go into hiding and strike some other time. We know he will be there. We know what he looks like and we can be ready for him."
Race nodded, the Lieutenant's statement made sense. They would just have to wait for Vostok to make his next move.
"I'm telling you right now," Phil said, "We have orders to shoot to kill on sight. No more trying to talk him down or bring him in. You see Vostok. You kill him. Understood?"
"No hesitation." Race agreed as he offered his hand to Phil and helped his partner to his feet. "None whatsoever."
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To Be Continued...