Disclaimer: I do not own Jonny Quest. I am making no money off of this and it is purely for fun and enjoyment.
Chapter 14
"Where is he?" Race grumbled into his radio, speaking directly with the Garrison soldier on the roof.
"Moving North along the Square. He is dressed as a police officer." Came the reply. "Move North by Northwest. You are still behind him."
Keying his internal I-1 comms unit, Race spoke to Phil, "Do you still see him?"
"Yes."
"Is it Yasimov?" The fact that their enemies appeared to be dressed as police officers made the entire situation that much more complicated. Not knowing how many men might be with Vostok, Race realized that he could no longer rely on the police, not knowing who might be friend or foe.
"I think so, but he has his cap pulled down low over his eyes. Even if it is him I can't shoot, he's wedged himself in fairly well with the crowd."
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as Race took a brief second to assimilate what was happening. His gut was telling him that something was definitely wrong. "Phil, is he carrying a bag?"
"Negative."
"Damnit." Spinning back towards the stage, Race's instincts were right; Yasimov was leading him away from the main target. "Jade, get over here and stay with Yasimov. Grab Kovar if you can find him."
"Moving your way." Jade responded.
"Phil, keep with the Colonel for now. Have your spotter search the crowd near the stage for Vostok. Find out what the hell the rest of your snipers see and report back to me. If any of you see Vostok, readjust your targeting from Yasimov to Vostok. Understood?"
"Roger." Phil replied.
After a quick glance back in the Yasimov's direction, Race focused his attention back towards the stage. He hadn't realized he had moved so far off from the area. Pushing through the crowd, he made his way back to where he believed Vostok was headed. As he moved he bumped into Jade, who had found Kovar and one of his men.
Turning and pointing towards Yasimov's last position, Race let loose a string of commands. "Pick up Yasimov and watch him. He's trying to lead us away from the stage. We can't trust the police anymore as we have no idea how many of them might be Vostok's men in disguise. If Yasimov runs then nab him, don't let him get away. If he attacks, then take him out. Phil is still watching him for now, but he can readjust as needed. I don't know about the rest of the teams, but the man with Corbin is Garrison."
"Can we trust Garrison?" Kovar asked, unhappy with the news about the police.
"We have to for now." Race said, but the Inspector's question worried him. "Now move."
As Jade and Kovar moved away, Race keyed his internal comm unit, "Phil, be careful up there. If Vostok has infiltrated the police force, he might have men disguised as soldiers as well."
"Understood." Was all the other agent said in reply. Race was glad they had their own internal communications, at this point he didn't know who to trust anymore.
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Stealing a glance over his shoulder, Yasimov saw the white-haired American moving back towards the stage. With a snort, Nikolai snatched his radio from his belt, "General, the American is moving back in your direction. It appears he figured out our tactic."
"Keep moving through the crowd," Vostok's voice crackled through the mic. "I am adjusting the plan."
"Sir?"
"Do it, Nikolai! You shall see momentarily, but be ready to detonate on my command."
"Yes, General." Clipping the radio back to his belt, Yasimov did as his General instructed. Turning in such a way as to keep the stage within his vision, he did not notice the dark-haired woman or older man following behind him.
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"Strange." Jade mumbled as she watched Yasimov's body language. The Russian Colonel appeared confused and somewhat perturbed; whatever he had just been told over his radio was not what the blonde man had expected.
Cocking her head to the side, she indicated to Kovar, "We need to spread out and encircle him as best we can. I'll stay to his rear, you and your man move out to each side of him."
Kovar waved a hand at his agent to do as the woman said. "He is a dangerous man, Miss Jade." Kovar said once his man had moved off.
Smiling coyly, she replied, "I know how to deal with dangerous men. Now go."
With a nod, the INTERPOL man blended into the crowd.
Sucking in a deep breath, Jade edged closer to the Russian.
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Scowling, Vostok approached the side of the stage. Yasimov's report in regards to the American Intelligence Agent had put a damper on his initial plan of simply emplacing the bomb then detonating as they fell back to a save location. Now, the Americans had once again caused unnecessary headaches, their pestering behavior infuriating Vostok to the point that all he wanted to do was make as many people pay for their persistent interference at every turn.
Handing the gym bag to his man, he said, "Go get Yuri from behind the stage then place this in the secondary location."
"Yes, General." The man did as instructed, taking the bag then heading off. Withdrawing his pistol from its place on his belt with one hand he pulled a threaded sound suppressor from his pocket with the other. Screwing the device onto the end of his weapon and chambering a round, Vostok stepped towards the side of the structure, approaching the two policemen that guarded the stairs.
"Sir, is there a problem?" One of the men asked when they saw him approach.
Removing his stolen cap, he revealed himself to the men. "Only for you."
The shock on their faces was enough to satisfy Vostok as he raised his pistol and fired a single round into each man's head; they never even had a chance to draw their own sidearms. The quiet report of the weapon was drowned out by the Mayor's speech and Vostok smiled as he ascended the steps unmolested.
Striding up to the podium, located at center stage, Vostok basked in the frightened and shocked looks of the city and federal Government officials that sat in a row at the back of the stage. As he approached, the Mayor turned to face him, "Who are you? What are you doing?"
"I am the man that has come to reclaim what is mine." Vostok boomed, pointing his handgun at the Mayor and firing multiple rounds into the man's stomach and legs.
A cry of alarm and pain burst from the Mayor's throat as the rounds tore into his flesh, causing him to collapse in a bloodied heap.
"What is the meaning of this?" An older, grey-haired man asked as he stood.
Vostok replied by shooting the man in the chest.
Chaos erupted. People, both on the stage and on the ground, screamed and tried to run, not knowing what was happening, but having just witnessed a madman gun down two of their officials.
Reaching out, Vostok snagged the arm of an older female official that tried to get past him to safety. Clamping down hard on the lady's arm, she let out a cry as he whipped her around in front of him. Wrapping a muscular arm around her waist, he secured her firmly against his body, using her as a human shield. His voice gravelly and laced with hate, Vostok snarled in the woman's ear, "Now you will pay for your traitorous actions."
Moving towards the podium, Vostok stepped over the wounded Mayor and made his way to the microphone.
"People of Praha, remain calm!" Vostok shouted, but the crowd had panicked when he shot the Mayor and people currently screamed, shoved, and ran for safety. Vostok laughed at their scurrying attempts to escape, they had no idea about the bomb he was about to detonate.
"You're people are pathetic." Vostok spat when he could not gain the attention of the crowd. He had wanted to announce their doom, but realized that shooting the Mayor was probably foolish. 'No matter.' He thought to himself as he began to drag his captive towards the stage exit; a valuable hostage that could ensure his own escape if necessary. Of course once she was of no more use, he'd still make her pay for her crimes.
"You'll never get away with this!" The woman decreed as she struggled against Vostok's grasp.
"I already have." He replied with a wicked grin.
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"Shit!" Race exclaimed as he watched Vostok climb on stage. "What the hell is he doing?" Pushing harder against the crowd, he made his way through the throng of bystanders that had no idea what was about to happen.
"Phil, he's on stage. Take him out!" Race ordered.
"No shot," the anxiousness in his voice told Race that the other man had already seen Vostok and readjusted his aim accordingly. "There's too many people behind him."
"Fuck!" Race shouted. He knew what was preventing Phil from squeezing the trigger, any round fired from his high powered rifle could very well pass through the General and kill the people that were assembled on the stage. What Corbin needed was a clear shot with no obstacles and no collateral damage.
"Repositioning for a clear shot." Phil said as if reading Race's mind.
He didn't think he had to say it, but Race stated, "You get a clear shot, you take it. Got that, pal?"
"Got it." Phil replied.
He was only short distance away, but to Race it felt like miles. Keeping his eyes locked on the big Russian, he was helpless to act as the man shot the startled Mayor. Cursing, he kept moving against the wave on onlookers that were trying to get as far away from enraged Russian as possible. As most tried to flee from the stage, Race continued to move towards it.
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"Sir, over there."
"What?" Phil asked, concerned at the tone of the Sergeant's voice.
"Two men, one dressed as a police officer, with a black bag."
Raising his head up from his scope, Phil looked in the direction the Sergeant indicated, confirming what the young soldier saw. The two men were heading away from the stage, out into the crowd. 'Not good.' Phil thought.
"Keep on them," He ordered then speaking into the radio to the other sniper teams, he instructed. "Team Two, pick up the two men with the bag leaving the stage. Team Three, keep Vostok in your sights. Take the shot if you have it."
As soon as he heard confirmations from the other two teams, he returned his attention to his own sights, waiting for the moment he could get a shot.
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As people rushed for safety, Jade jostled her way closer to Yasimov. The Colonel had turned his full attention towards the stage, appearing just as shocked by his General's actions as everyone else in the crowd.
A few paces away, Jade saw him reach into his pocket, withdrawing a cell phone. So far she had not seen anyone with the bomb, but she had to work on the assumption that it was somewhere either at the stage or in the crowd and that Yasimov was preparing to detonate it.
"Hey!" She shouted, drawing the man's attention away from the stage. He turned to look at her, just as she closed the remaining distance. Still in motion, she pulled her arm back, balled her hand into a fist, and launched the hardest punch she could muster directly at the Russian's face. Her fist connected with the puzzled man's jaw, sending Yasimov reeling backwards before he stumbled and fell flat on his back. Jade watched as his arm bounced off the concrete, the small cellular device skittering out of his grasp.
Stunned, Yasimov shook his head, not knowing what had hit him until he was already on the ground. Standing over him was the woman that had hollered his name just moments before she had cracked him in the face.
"You bitch." He snarled as he regained his stability, attempting to haul himself back to his feet, blood dribbling down his busted lower lip.
Reaching into one of her many hidden pockets, she withdrew her baton and flicked it open, making a grand show of the gesture. Stepping on the fallen man's chest she pointed the baton at his face and said, "I suggest you stay down if you know what's best for you, Colonel."
Curling his lips, showing his disdain for the woman, his eyes momentarily drifted to the side, gazing over Jade's shoulder. Seeing the subtle look, Jade spun, ready to face whatever threat was sneaking up behind her.
Just as she did, her eyes fell upon the police man she had seen earlier behind the stage. He was running straight for her at a full on sprint. A pistol clutched in his hand, he leveled it at her chest the moment she had turned and saw him. Reaching behind her back for her own pistol, she knew the attempt was futile. She could not draw, aim, and fire before her new enemy could squeeze the trigger. However, she would be damned if she wouldn't at least try.
Just as he was close enough for Jade to see his vulgar smirk, the man twisted and jerked. Staggering as he lost his forward momentum, Jade saw a spray of blood burst from the man's neck. Reaching up to grasp his wound he dropped his weapon and crumpled to his knees. Seconds later the man's upper chest exploded as a second round ripped into his body, splattering bits of flesh and blood onto the ground as his now lifeless body teetered then fell.
"Thanks." Jade exhaled in her comm unit."Nice shooting." The entire encounter could not have last more than a few seconds.
"Now we're even." Corbin replied. A moment later, she heard the agent say, "Yasimov." Turning back towards her original opponent she saw the blonde Russian was on his hands and knees, attempting to scramble back to his feet. His eyes darted furiously across the ground, searching for the dropped cell phone he needed in order to detonate the bomb.
Baton gripped tightly again, Jade swung at the Colonel's knee. The impact made a sickening crunch as Nikolai collapsed back to the ground. Rolling over, he clutched his wounded joint and glared daggers at the woman. "I'll kill you for this."
As if his statement suddenly reminded him that he was armed, the enraged Russian reached for his sidearm. Just as he pulled the weapon free of the holster and began to raise it towards Jade, she swung the baton again. The sharp twang of the weapon smacking into Yasimov's wrist caused the man to howl and drop his weapon; she must have shattered at least a few bones. Smiling down at her wounded prey, Jade mocked, "What were you saying?"
Yasimov attempted to sneer at the woman, but instead ended up wincing as pain shot through his broken wrist and banged up knee.
A moment later, Inspector Kovar and his agent pushed through the still startled, but thinning crowd. Looking down at the battered Yasimov, Kovar glanced up at Jade and gave her an approving grin. "Good work, Miss Jade."
"This creep is done." She replied, watching the second INTERPOL agent manhandle Yasimov into a sitting position and cuff his hands behind his back.
"Just because you have me does not mean we will fail." Yasimov declared as the agent pulled him to his feet, unconcerned that he was probably causing the Russian greater injury.
Holding out Yasimov's cell phone, Kovar stated "Well, we have this. No one is detonating any bomb today."
His bravado promptly deflated when he saw the phone in Kovar's hand. Yasimov hung his head, ashamed for having failed his mission.
"Do not worry, Colonel," Kovar laughed sarcastically. "They say The Hague is quite nice this time of year."
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As the crows parted around him, Race propelled himself forward, then side stepped in order to change directions and follow Vostok as the General hurried off the stage, his hostage still held firmly in his grip.
"Let her go, Vostok!" Race yelled as he continued to close the distance between himself and Vostok.
Gritting his teeth, Race dove when he saw Vostok spin and fire off a few quick potshots in his general direction. The move had bought Vostok a few valuable seconds as Race quickly looked around, hoping that the random bullets had not hit any innocent bystanders. A frightened cry drew Race's mind back towards the fleeing Russian, his concentration focused solely on apprehending the criminal.
Back on his feet and moving, Race sprinted with all his strength, reaching Vostok just moments before the man disappeared into a nearby alleyway.
"I said let her go." Race barked as he vaulted himself into the duo, hoping to break Vostok's hold on the woman.
Caught off guard by Race's unexpected move, Vostok staggered as the muscled American slammed against both himself and his hostage, forcing all three back and smacking into the wall of the building directly behind them. The force of the blow broke Vostok's hold on the terrified woman and as she slipped and fell, she scurried off on hands and knees, more concerned with fleeing to safety than any physical pain she felt.
Vostok sneered as his hostage escaped, but he still held his weapon firmly in his hand. Swinging to bring the weapon to bear on his American foe, Vostok took aim and fired.
Ducking under the Russian's attack, Race nearly avoided being gunned down at point blank range. Twisting, he drove an elbow straight into Vostok's tight midsection, forcing the man back again. Shooting upward, Race latched on to the General's outstretched firing arm, twisted again and threw the Soviet over his shoulder in perfect execution of the martial arts maneuver.
"Give it up, Vostok." Race ordered, "This is over."
"Never."
Having lost his weapon, the Soviet got back to his feet. Balling his hands into fists, Vostok threatened, "Prepare to die, you American scum."
Just as Race set his feet, prepared to battle his much larger opponent, a chorus of automatic gunfire erupted, bullets flying past, slamming into the buildings and sidewalk. Diving for cover, Race saw two of Vostok's gunmen approaching, AK-74s firing directly at him.
Crawling across the sidewalk, desperately searching for some type of cover, Race swore to himself as he heard Vostok's amused laugh.
Saddling up behind an overturned vendor cart, Race pulled his firearm. As he prepared to engage, he hurt a grunt, followed by a second grunt a moment later. Peering around the edge, he saw both gunmen collapse, dropping their weapons, a few random rounds popped off from their rifles before going silent.
"Sorry about the delay." Phil said into Race's ear. "These other snipers can't seem to line up their shots very well."
Rae shook his head at Corbin's blasé diss, "Thanks, partner." On his feet, he searched for Vostok once again and saw the Russian disappear into the shadowy recess of the alleyway.
"Go in there and you have no cover." Phil stated into Race's ear.
Ignoring Phil's warning, Race holstered his weapon and sprinted head-on into the alley. "I'm not letting him get away."
Setting his sights on the fleeing Vostok, Race pushed himself harder than ever. At the end of the alley, Vostok rounded the corner as the alley hooked directly off to the right. Not slowing a step, Race began to close the distance with his larger, but slower nemesis. Reaching the corner only seconds after Vostok did, Race recalled the last time he entered a blind alley and tucked into a tight roll. His perseverance proved invaluable as Vostok was lying in wait for him.
Swinging a large wooden two-by-four he had picked up from a pile of trash, Vostok was surprised when his pursuer rolled, causing his swing to come into contact with nothing but air, spinning him around and off balance from his body's momentum.
Launching out of his combat roll and back to his feet, Race slammed into the shocked and off-balance man and they both crashed back to the dirty ground. Clambering on top of Vostok, Race let loose a flurry of punches to the stunned man's face.
Even against the onslaught of hits, Vostok regained his composure, reached up, and clamped his meaty hands around the American's neck. Grinning with satisfaction, Vostok tightened his grip and squeezed. Race tried not to panic as he felt his throat being crushed by the General's vise-like grip. Spots started to form in the edge of his vision; Race knew he had only seconds before the Soviet crushed his throat.
Leaning down, he drove an elbow directly into Vostok's face, shattering the man's nose in a spray of blood. Vostok howled, but amazingly did not let go. His mind starting to shut down, Race threw another elbow, then reached forward and jammed his thumbs into Vostok's eyes.
Yowling in pain, the General released him and Race rolled off of his enemy and onto his back, sucking in deep breaths, ignoring the pain the action caused.
Getting back to his feet, Vostok kicked; his heavy boot connecting with Race's midsection. "You Americans have interfered for the last time." He growled as he went for Race's handgun.
Reaching forward, Race wrapped his arms around Vostok's legs and pulled. Wind-milling his arms, Vostok attempted to stay on his feet, but again was pulled back down to the ground. Scrambling back to his feet, Race lashed out with a downward thrusting kick to Vostok's broken nose and mouth, connecting with the Russian's bloodied face.
"Stay down!" Race spat, the anger in his damaged voice echoing off of the alleyway's walls.
Spitting out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth, Vostok sneered. "You will never take me alive, comrade."
"I'm not your fucking comrade." Race replied as he pulled his handgun, pointing it at the fallen man. "And I have no problem obliging with your request."
To Race's surprise, Vostok began to laugh. Momentarily confused, he lowered his handgun ever so slightly as he stood over Vostok. As he did, Vostok bent a knee and kicked out and up, connecting with Race's groin and sending the I-1 agent staggering and falling to his knees.
"Foolish American!" Vostok laughed as he scrambled back to his feet.
Glancing at the end of the alley, which was no more than half a block away, Race saw a vehicle appear then brake quickly.
"I have no more time for your games, American. My only regret is not being able to kill you for foiling my plans, but perhaps we shall meet again."
Working his way back to his feet, Race wavered. Lashing out Vostok landed a solid right hook to Race's jaw, sending him back to his knees, bent over in pain. With another deep laugh, Vostok said, "Until next time, comrade."
Turning his back to Race, the Russian General ran to the end of the alley, jumped into his waiting getaway jeep and fled.
Groaning as he pulled himself back to his feet, Race cursed as he headed to the end of the alley, but too late; Vostok was gone.
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To Be Continued...