Thursday, March 15th
Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ)
Cheltenham, United Kingdom
Late Afternoon...
Madison Enfield was not about to drop what she saw as the proverbial hot potato.
If her daughter was alive, she was going to find out. Her experience working within the shadier side of the British Government told her that she could not just ask to speak with Vengeance – that would simply end up with her being thrown into a prison cell to be interrogated by men in trench coats as if she were a spy. She knew that Vengeance was a key asset for Her Majesty's Government and that meant Vengeance was protected. She also knew that there would be a very small number of liaison posts to move between the vigilantes and the government ministers. She had made several quick phone calls to contacts who owed her favours, and she now had a name: Commander Lawrence, Royal Navy. The man had an office at the Ministry of Defence in London, but it seemed that the man was in the very same building where she stood. She had discovered that something big was underway – probably the SATT – and that an operation was being run from GCHQ.
Her identification gained her access to the correct floor and section, but she found the operations and planning wing sealed off with armed Ministry of Defence Police on duty. That was not unknown as secret options were often planned and executed from within that secure wing. Then she hit the jackpot as a trio of uniformed officers stepped out of a lift beyond the doors which led to the operations and planning wing at the same time as the doors opened to allow two men in suits to leave. Two were female officers – a Royal Navy lieutenant commander and a captain of the Royal Marines – while the third was a tall male Royal Navy commander. Madison took a chance.
"Commander Lawrence?" she called out loudly.
The man turned without any other acknowledgment and Madison dived in further.
"I am Madison Enfield. You know about my daughter, Tanya."
The two women both scowled dangerously which told Madison that she was right on the mark.
..._...
The next few minutes were a blur as Madison found herself whisked through the doors by an armed MoD police officer.
Then as her identification card was checked repeatedly, she felt the hand of Commander Lawrence on her upper arm and she weas dragged into a lecture theatre occupied by a group of Royal Navy ratings taking a break.
"Out!" Commander Lawrence roared, and the ratings vanished very smartly.
Madison watched the ratings vanish and the door close with the female captain of Royal Marines blocking any avenue of escape. The female naval officer stepped forward with a tablet in her hands.
"You are Madison Enfield?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You came back from Brazil five months ago?"
"Six."
"Oh, right, sorry. What happened during the month of March 2014?"
Madison knew that the 'slip' was an interrogation tactic to trick her but then came the more personal questions which dug deep into painful territory.
"My daughter, Tanya, went missing."
But the questions then took a sharp left turn.
"What was your daughter's birth weight?"
"Seven point eight pounds."
"Where was she conceived?"
"St Petersburg."
"Who is this?" the woman asked, turning the tablet to show Madison a photo.
Madison grimaced. "My ex-husband and Tanya's father. Ilya Lukovich Fedorov. Look..."
Commander Lawrence shook his head at Madison, and she stopped speaking. The woman nodded to Lawrence.
"Madison Enfield," Commander Lawrence said in a cold tone of voice. "You are about to be read in on a highly classified subject which if ever spoken to another living soul will result in you never seeing the light of day for the remainder of your natural life which would in itself be very short. Do you understand?"
"I understand, sir."
"Sign here and here," the woman said, handing over the tablet and a stylus.
Madison recognised a typical non-disclosure agreement, but this was her first which used the phrases 'severe prejudice', 'termination with prejudice', and 'without recourse to appeal' on the same page in relation to a government source or project. Basically, if she breathed a word of what she was signing or what she was being read in on, she would be killed after a nasty interrogation which would not be performed with regard to any international human rights agreement.
The next twenty minutes were another blur as she found out about a United States Government program called Urban Predator which was co-sanctioned by Her Majesty's Government and the door to another highly classified program was opened and she began to learn about the shadowy paramilitary vigilante organisation known to the world as Vengeance, including the link to Urban Predator and one final fact delivered by the female naval officer whose name was Lynn Collins.
"Madison, I am pleased to inform you that your daughter, Tanya, is alive and well."
That caused Madison's legs to sag, and she had to be guided to a seat where she openly sobbed for a full minute before she pulled herself together.
" I came across information today which hinted that my daughter was currently in Russia. Please tell me I am wrong."
"Come with me," Commander Lawrence said in a much warmer tone of voice.
Madison found herself being led deeper into the operations and planning wing before they entered an ante room where she and the others were forced to leave their mobile phones in lockers arranged along one wall.
They each passed through an airport-style metal detector and into the number three operational command centre.
..._...
The operational command centre was arranged like a small lecture theatre with seating for around thirty people arranged on tiered seating at the back of the room.
Three enormous ninety-inch flat screens took up the front wall in its entirety from three feet above the floor to just two feet below the towering ceiling. To the left and right of the screens, several computer stations were manned by uniformed Royal Navy technicians while a man in civilian clothes supervised and gave out orders.
"Madison Enfield," Sinead said with a smile as she pointed up at the left-hand screen.
The screen was segmented into four sections, two by two. Three of the images were obviously cameras worn by personal while the fourth displayed a map of Russia with a blue dot flashing over the central area. The images showed people moving around inside what appeared to be a cargo aircraft. Each camera image was labelled in the top right corner with a name: Noxa/Custos/Necis. The screen labelled 'Noxa' showed a female checking her combat gear which consisted of assault weapons amongst other military equipment. Momentarily, a grinning face looked directly into the camera.
"Your daughter."
Madison felt the tears welling up again as she laid eyes on her daughter for the first time in four years. Then the face vanished as Tanya pulled on a helmet and an oxygen mask. Madison watched as the persons behind each camera checked each other as a team, ensuring everything was correct.
"What are they doing?" Madison demanded.
"In three minutes, they will dive out of the back of the aircraft and drop into Russia near the city of Nizhny Novgorod," Sinead advised an aghast Madison Enfield.
"So, my daughter really is one of those Predator things?"
"I am afraid so," Commander Lawrence confirmed.
As Madison watched in horror, she saw all three youngsters dive out of the aircraft into the cold darkness.
The classified SVR facility
Nizhny Novgorod, Russia
Emergency lighting was flickering on all around the facility.
However, the emergency lighting was nothing like the bright fluorescent strip lights which usually illuminated the dull interior of the facility. That assisted the trio as they moved through a conduit tunnel underground from the powerhouse and into the main facility, exiting through a vent onto the basement level. They only had a vague idea where their quarries may be, but the building was large, and they were on borrowed time. They advanced down the concrete corridor with their suppressed weapons raised, their eyes searching for problems as they went. They were not pussyfooting around either as found out by the first pair of soldiers they came across walking towards them and both died without knowing who or what had killed them as a bullet struck each of their foreheads. Tanya mentally tallied the two expended rounds against those remaining in the magazine of her Diemaco C8-CQB and continued with the search completely unaware that her horrified mother had just witnessed her take the lives of two Russian soldiers without a conscious thought. The next few corridors were empty, so they moved up to the ground floor where they found further resistance which swiftly became nothing more than a headache for the cleaning staff. At the staircase leading to the first floor, they met their first real resistance; Охотники.
Six male Охотники were on patrol, guarding the first floor to ensure nobody escaped during the ongoing interrogations, but then they came under attack from an unknown force when the first of them died. They were each armed with the AKS-74U and the distinctive staccato crack of the weapon shattered the otherwise normal evening. The muzzle blast from each weapon lit up the first-floor landing and made a good aim point in the dim gloom of the emergency lighting. Another fell almost instantly to the suppressed gunfire of Simon even as Rylee took the harder route by climbing up the side of the staircase. Nobody expected a stealthy approach from the flank, so another died as Rylee appeared almost directly alongside and stabbed the fourteen-year-old boy in the left ear with her combat knife. The boy died instantly, his assault rifle clattering to the ground before his body landed alongside. His three comrades saw nothing at first but then one looked to his left and pretty much shat himself as a dark form jumped over the staircase railing just a few feet away. The boy died as he dropped his assault rifle to claw in vain at the titanium blade embedded in his throat. Calmly, the final pair died with a bullet to each head.
The moment her colleagues joined her, Rylee indicated with hand signals their next destination, and they moved off in silence despite the klaxons which began to sound.
..._...
Yakov/Jake screamed out in pain as the bullet carved into his left shoulder.
The bullet was supposed to pierce his skull and brain, but the power outage had saved his life with a momentary distraction for Tarasov who now had more important things to worry about. Despite her own wounds, Charlotte grabbed for Yakov/Jake as the boy fell to the floor. Then, just as Tarasov was trying to make sense of the situation, the sound of defensive gunfire erupted from the floor below but ominously stopped less than two minutes later. Four soldiers burst into the interrogation room; their weapons raised.
"Отведите их на командный пункт!" Tarasov ordered and he watched as Charlotte, Yakov/Jake, and Debbie were grabbed and pulled to their feet and thence out into the corridor. {'Take them to the command post!'}
"Что происходит?" Sokolova asked. {'What is going on?'}
"Не знаю, но они идут за мальчиком, а может, и за девочкой тоже," Tarasov responded. {'I don't know but they are coming for the boy and maybe the girl, too.'}
Tarasov was very concerned as nobody would dare assault an FSB facility so deep inside Russia. The SVR were itching to get their hands on the facility and any failure on his part would have him replaced and sent to Siberia for a life-long holiday.
More soldiers appeared and provided escort as they headed for the east staircase.
..._...
Zeta was not far behind.
The first floor was now little more than a transient morgue as the team reached the west staircase and moved upwards onto the second floor where they quickly came across the interrogation room. While it was empty of people, it was chock full of evidence and the Zetas went to work. Tanya and Simon methodically checked out the room while Rylee kept watch. They found tattered bloody clothing and much blood, most of which was fresh and fresher.
"Somebody's fired a gun in here, in the last few minutes," Tanya whispered. "This blood spatter against the wall is very fresh and still dripping."
"I have a pool over here and spatter from somebody having the living daylights beaten out of them," Simon added. "I also have evidence of a stab-wound on the table over there – the blood is still tacky."
"I think I know where they've been taken," Tanya muttered as she pointed to where someone had written in the fresh blood on the floor.
"C – M – D?" Simon grinned. "Command post."
"Let's head for the command post," Rylee directed. "It's one floor up."
Together, Zeta Squadron moved off at speed, heading for the east staircase.
Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ)
Cheltenham, United Kingdom
Madison Enfield was aghast at what she was witnessing.
It was like watching a computer game, but her mind knew that it was real, and she had witnessed her own blood take multiple lives. Indeed, her daughter's friends were equally cold and calculating as they had taken down - who the enemy? Her daughter and her daughter's friends were methodically taking out Russian soldiers within a top-secret building which belonged to the Federal Security Service (FSB) and the Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR). The potential repercussions from the assault were inconceivable but as she understood it, the operation was an all-in covert assault to rescue three operatives taken prisoner.
Despite the horrors she was witnessing, there was one pressing worry on her mind; how the hell were they going to escape Russia?
The classified SVR facility
Nizhny Novgorod, Russia
The two-storey command post was the most heavily defended space in the building.
The walls were thicker than elsewhere in the building and the two access doors, on the fifth and sixth floors, were armoured against external intrusion. It was a typically Russian facility with nothing overlooked – to a point. The three prisoners were forced to kneel and in the case of Jake, he received handcuffs and anklecuffs to match those worn by Debbie and Charlotte. For the boy, he found his mind clearer than it had been in a long time. For some reason, Yakov seemed to be dormant, but Jake had no idea why. He sighed to himself as he considered that while he had his best friend with him; she hated him, but they would at least die together which was okay with him as he could never survive without Charlotte in his life. That she had come after him spoke volumes for her loyalty, but it also angered Jake that she would put her life at risk for him - he did not feel worthy of that much sacrifice.
Charlotte was not overly concerned with her – was he still her boyfriend? As far as she was concerned, he was a fucking bastard who deserved to die for turning against her. However, her relationship issues with Jake would have to wait – probably for ever, she thought – but they would at least die together which was okay with her as she could never survive without Jake in her life.
Debbie was a little less morose over the outcome of the mission. Okay, it had gone off the rails, just a little bit, actually by quite a wide margin. She was an eternal optimist and while she could tell that Charlotte was seeing the end and probably glad to be dying alongside her friend, Debbie had other ideas despite being hand cuffed, ankle cuffed, naked from the waist up, bloody as hell, and kneeling on a concrete floor surrounded by Russian conscript soldiers in an FSB facility in central Russia. While she knew that MI5 and MI6 would write her off, along with Charlotte, and pretend the mission had never even occurred, she knew that a certain shadowy paramilitary organisation would not see a national border or sovereign integrity as an obstacle. Despite the odds, her mind was latched onto the unknown attackers infiltrating the facility. She told herself that an impossible rescue was at hand.
She could not allow herself to see it any other way.
..._...
They knew where the command post was and they even knew the layout thanks to the builders who worked from a standard 'How to Build the Ultimate Russian Command Post – 1989 Edition', a copy of which was owned by both the Central Intelligence Agency and MI6.
They knew that the facility covered two floors and included an armoury and bunkroom for the on-duty guard force which usually consisted of twenty conscripts with an experienced sergeant and a lieutenant in command. They figured they had removed potentially a quarter of the guard force already, leaving about fifteen, all of whom would be concentrated around the command post. Normally, one would take the direct route, up the stairs from the second floor to the fifth floor. That route would be well guarded and probably fitted with boobytraps so the devious members of Zeta Squadron who would have boobytrapped the hell out of the staircase chose to take an alternative route to the sixth floor.
"You sure about this?" Simon asked Tanya as they crawled into a ventilation duct.
"It worked for Bruce Willis in Die Hard."
"That's not a reason," Simon growled. "You watch too much crap."
"Bruce and Die Hard are cinema perfection," Tanya groused.
"Time and a place!"
"There is always time and a place for Bruce," Tanya retorted as they crawled along a steel box-shaped vent which emerged into a small crawlspace which in turn ended at a steel hatch locked with a steel wheel.
Simon made to turn the wheel, but it was rusted and probably had not been opened in months if not years.
"Put your back into it," Tanya needled.
Simon ignored the needle and wondered why he put up with so much shit from Tanya and Rylee, but he put some more of his considerable muscle into the wheel which soon cracked and ground open against the rust before it spun freely, and the hatch swung open into the main lift shaft. Simon and Tanya swung their assault rifles upwards and downwards searching for danger before Rylee pushed past and began to climb followed by her friends.
It would be a long climb.
..._...
Tarasov ran his eyes across a bank of black and white security monitors located on the lower level of the command post, his eyes searching out the enemy but there was no sign.
So far, the assault had been direct, up the staircases, but now they had seemingly stopped. Who were they? Howe many were they? What was their plan? What worried the man was that nobody had survived initial contact with the enemy to be able to identify them. Were they special forces? No country would risk their special forces in case they were captured in what amounted to an invasion and an act of war against Mother Russia. Fore the moment, the attack was contained and nobody outside the building knew but that could not last, Tarasov knew. His mind kept working as he tried to put his own mind into that of the attackers – but he had no way of knowing that the attackers had minds which worked in ways which he could never conceive.
"Полковник, у нас движение на восточной лестнице седьмого этажа," a technician called out. {'Colonel, we have movement on the seventh-floor east staircase!'}
"Покажите мне!" Tarasov responded as he moved over to the technician. {'Show me!'}
The technician's hand pointed to an image of a concrete staircase was visible on a monitor. The upper landing looked clear, but a shadow was visible and then another. Tarasov's eyes moved to an adjacent monitor which showed the bottom of the east staircase where it met the sixth floor, directly outside the upper entrance to the command post on the upper level where three men were on guard behind a four-foot double layer of sandbags and equipped with an NSV heavy machine gun aimed at the staircase leading down to the fifth floor. Too late, Tarasov realised that the defences faced in the wrong direction, and he had been outflanked. Unable to draw his eyes away from the screens, he watched as a pair of gloved hands appeared on the first screen and then his eyes widened in horror as first one then two, three, four, five, six devices were launched down the staircase. The staggered detonations of the six high explosive hand grenades somewhere below the first flight of steps sent a devastating array of shrapnel scything through the air and quite literally shredded the three soldiers on guard duty which negated a supposed final layer of defence before it even fired a shot. Despite the black and white screen, the dark patches of blood were very visible and unmistakeable.
Tarasov was under no illusion that he was winning, and he figured that he was fighting a losing battle against an unknown superior force. His security force was dwindling but hope was not all gone. There was no way that anybody could gain entry to the command centre without explosives which could injure the prisoners – they were the ace in Tarasov's defences, and he could use them to prevent total destruction. Meanwhile, he had taken a painful decision and summoned reinforcements via a subordinate who was under strict orders to avoid any SVR interference. It would just be a matter of time before those reinforcements arrived and the unknown attackers were routed.
They would need to holdout for just thirty or maybe forty minutes.
..._...
The fourteen-year-old girl was nowhere near the command post.
She found the tenth floor empty as just about every civilian employee in the building had gone home for the night. She was also taking full advantage of the military situation for her own needs, knowing that there would not be any soldiers on duty on the upper floors. If she was caught, she knew that she would die – rather painfully. She did not belong in the facility, and she longed for a normal life. She knew that her moment to betray Doctor Drylov had arrived and if the attackers had indeed come to rescue Yakov, the girl, and the woman, then she wanted them to take her to safety. However, she knew that she would need to buy a ticket out of Russia. Long before the arrival of Yakov, the girl had been gathering information to take out of Russia with her to buy her freedom and it included most of Doctor Drylov's recent research including that which had created herself as a Охотник and caused the boy to experience schizophrenic behaviour.
Anastasiya knew that Doctor Drylov would not stop trying to perfect his Охотники as he tried to emulate what the boy was and could ultimately become. She was under no illusions that she was better than the boy; he had bested her in many an altercation over the previous months. She was a failure and that usually had only one outcome. Therefore, she was damned if she did and damned if she did not. But if she was going to die, it was going to be on her own terms. She was a good Russian, but she hated what her country was becoming under the leadership of their so-called President. She was not a believer in communism, but neither was she a believer in the way their President had chosen to run the country she had grown up in which was her other grind – and regret. Her foray into data theft had also brought forth a file for one Anastasiya Zhukova. She could not remember her parents, nor what her life had been like before Doctor Drylov had got his hands on her soon after her tenth birthday. However, the file had revealed detailed information of her former life which had included the deaths of her parents who were political dissidents and therefore deemed disposable.
She picked the lock on the door to the corner office which belonged to Doctor Drylov and pushed open the door.
..._...
The attack, when it came, was impressive.
Tarasov had not considered that his command post might have weaknesses but then he had never read 'How to Build the Ultimate Russian Command Post – 1989 Edition', so he had no idea that the facility was fed via large airducts to keep the environment in the sealed facility breathable. Each floor in the building had a height of some twelve feet, the upper three of which was hidden by a false ceiling hiding the airducts and wiring which then fed grills and lighting fixtures built into the false ceiling. Tarasov could be forgiven for being ignorant of the airducts existence, but he would have given his left testicle to know that the enemy was just four feet over his head. However, Tarasov was distracted by a yell coming from the steel staircase leading to the upper level of the command post below which the prisoners were arranged.
"Какого черта! Граната!" {'What the hell! Grenade!'}
Before Tarasov could react there followed a thunderous bang and a dazzling flash as a flashbang grenade went off on the upper level of the command post. Then came the sound of yelling – a lot of yelling, followed by the sounds of bodies falling to the ground. All eyes in the room – except for those on their knees beneath it – were on the steel staircase which meant that they could not see movement above the computer consoles as tiles were removed. The reduced illumination from the emergency lighting kept most of the room in shadow meaning that any movement was very difficult to catch even if someone was watching – which one was: Charlotte grinned as she took an educated guess at the identities of the two slim shapes clad in combat gear slipping headfirst down from the ceiling. Both held Walther PPQ M2 navy SD nine-millimetre pistols equipped with long cylindrical suppressors in the hands. One of the men manning the monitors caught sight of movement just a foot to his left and he turned his head in time to see the dark muzzle aimed directly at his head but before he could call out a warning, his brain registered a flash just a second before his head exploded. His colleague suffered the same injury. Four soldiers died as the two shapes disconnected from their ropes and landed on the computer consoles, crouching down as they took down each target in aa systematic fashion.
Tarasov was quickest to react, and he pulled the major in front of him and she took two bullets intended for him. He released her corpse as he dived for the door and perceived safety. He hit the button which operated the door and leapt out the moment the gap was large enough, ignoring the bullets which pinged off the surrounding concrete and the steel door itself. Simon came down the steel staircase, his Diemaco C8-CQB assault rifle raised and searching for targets – four men had already died at his hands on the upper level of the command post. He clocked the dead bodies and the three bodies of those still breathing, none of which had flinched or moved a muscle despite the dead bodies still slipping to the blood-covered concrete floor. Simon moved to cover the doorway where the steel door sat in the open position, but no soldiers were in sight. Behind him, the girls moved over to the three captives, who had still not moved.
"Well, well, well," Rylee grinned as she looked at her two friends. "Can't you two ever keep out of trouble?"
"Talk about the fucking pot calling the kettle black!" Charlotte grinned back.
"What she said," Jake added.
"When you have finished with your lovey-dovey bullshit, could someone get these bracelets off and get me a top?" Debbie asked.
"Right, yeah," Tanya ginned as she searched two of the dead soldiers, before she found a set of handcuff keys. "Right with ya!"
It took just a minute for the wrist and ankle cuffs to be removed from Debbie, Charlotte, and Jake. Debbie ripped a jacket from one of the dead soldiers, ignoring the fresh blood, and pulled it on over her body. Jake turned to Charlotte, and he grinned but then yelled out as she slapped him very hard on the left cheek.
"You fucking bastard!" Charlotte spat before she grinned. "I missed you," she added as she kissed the confused boy on the lips.
"Thanks – I suppose," Jake responded as he rubbed his cheek which hurt as much as the rest of his body, but he studied his best friend's visible injuries. "Are you okay?"
"I've had better days," Charlotte replied.
"You two gonna fuck, or can we get the hell outta here?" Tanya growled.
Charlotte blushed as she cradled her left hand against her stomach while she grabbed the major's pistol from her dead hand. Jake checked the pistol was cocked and ready as Charlotte could not before he took an AK-74U from a fallen conscript. Debbie also grabbed an AK-74U and nodded at Rylee.
"Let's get the hell out of here," she suggested.
With Simon taking up the rear, Rylee and Tanya led their friends out of the command post, heading up the stairs to the eight floor from where they would crossover to the western staircase and head down.
..._...
Anastasiya was on her way back down from the tenth floor and had reached the eighth when she came across the last person she wanted to meet while carrying incredibly incriminating evidence of espionage.
"Где ты был? Что . . . что у тебя там, Анастасия?" {'Where have you been? What . . . what have you got there, Anastasiya?'}
"Ничего, что ты здесь делаешь?" {'Nothing – what are you doing here?'}
"Я собираю команду, чтобы устроить засаду нападавшим. Это файлы?" {'I'm mustering a team to ambush the attackers. Are those files?'}
"Нет..." Anastasiya replied quickly as she shoved the paper files deeper into her backpack. {'No...'}
"Ты чертов предатель!" {'You fucking traitor!'}
Anastasiya dropped the pack and pulled her pistol, but Yuri was quicker, and his right foot lashed out at the pistol, knocking it out of her hand. But Anastasiya, despite many faults, was also quick and she had a lot to lose if Yuri won the fight. She punched Yuri in the face, eliciting a grunt of pain as Yuri moved to return the favour, striking Anastasiya in the side of the head. She knew that she did not have time for the distraction, but she had to put Yuri out of the way. She kicked out at the boy who had been part friend and part colleague for the past four years or so of her life. The past year had led to their friendship failing badly and they both hated each other. Anastasiya was able to duck and take Yuri in the stomach with a hard punch which sent the fourteen-year-old reeling. Anastasiya grabbed her backpack and pistol before she bolted down the stairs, cannoning into a body coming up the staircase.
Anastasiya and the known person rolled down the flight of stairs together before they came to rest on the landing before the next flight of stairs. As she struggled with a lot of pain, she heard meany voices and then heard gunshots and she felt a burning pain in her left side but then she found herself being hauled to her feet and she stared into the eyes of Yakov – only the eyes were softer than usual. Then she braced up as Yakov forced the muzzle of a pistol into her neck.
"Give me one bloody good reason why I should not blow your fucking bitch head off, Anastasiya."
"I know what Doctor Drylov did to you – I have the files – and how to undo it – it's in the files."
"Keep talking," Jake persisted as he caused Anastasiya more pain by pushing the pistol in deeper.
"Yuri said that he has an ambush planned – I expect it to be out by the fence; probably beyond. Please, I want to come with you."
"No fucking chance!" Charlotte blurted out.
"I want political asylum and I have digital copies of Drylov's files and everything he and Tarasov did here. I can't handle being treated like a fucking experiment; I want a life."
Charlotte could see the tears and she could tell they were real – the bitch wasn't trained well enough to conceal her emotions properly or conjure up new ones. She looked at Jake.
"We take her." Then she turned to a bruised Simon who had rolled down the stairs with Anastasiya. "You have Faraday Bags? Stick her pack in one and let's go see what Yuri has arranged for us."
"I think he's dead," Tanya commented from up on the landing where she had shot Yuri three times, and she was checking for a pulse.
"Let's move!" Rylee directed and they raced through the eighth floor to the next staircase and thence down to the ground floor.
..._...
They moved at the speed of the slowest – Charlotte who was having problems with her left leg.
Despite the eerie semi-darkness illuminated only with the dim emergency lighting, and the rotating red emergency beacons, the concrete passageways were worryingly empty. Simon figured it was because they had just about annihilated the guard force, but he would assume nothing as they moved in a tight group, covering every corner, doorway, and staircase as they passed. It took seven minutes to reach the nearest exit on the ground floor and great care was taken to check for an ambush or booby-traps. They also wanted to ensure that they did not make sufficient noise to rouse nearby forces. Up until that point, all sounds of battle had remained inside the concrete walls of the facility. As they reached the fresh air, Debbie and Charlotte breathed out in relief at feeling and breathing fresh air which neither had thought they would ever encounter again.
Swiftly, they headed off towards the east.
..._...
ambush /ˈambʊʃ/ noun a surprise attack by people lying in wait in a concealed position.
By definition 'surprise' was a key part of an ambush.
But what made a failed ambush even worse was when those lying in wait had no idea that their ambush had been rumbled – or that they had been betrayed. The cream of the Охотники program were concealed a hundred yards beyond the security fence and they were eager for battle but in three minutes time, they would all be dead. Those eight deaths would be pointless but unfortunately essential.
Charlotte and Debbie were live bait, and they approached the ambush site in the open where every Russian eye would be on them. The ambush site had been predictable – it was the only suitable location: for an amateur, the Predators reasoned. To Charlotte, the scene ahead of her weas reminiscent of that from Jurassic Park where the men all go into the long grass despite the warning: 'Not into the long grass!'. Charlotte could visualise the raptors – or in this case, Rylee, Simon, Tanya, and Jake – converging on the helpless Охотники. Just like in Jurassic Park, it was like taking candy from a baby – or slitting their throats. Silently, eight teenaged male and female Охотники died, their blood flowing into the grass from their torn throats as they lay staring at the sky one last time.
The team moved on.
..._...
The Russian BK-10 assault boat was exactly where it was supposed to be.
Who had left it there, or when, nobody cared. The 10.5-metre 3.7-tonne 14-seat rigid-hulled inflatable boat bobbed on the waters of the Volga River. Quickly, they each climbed aboard and took their seats without sound. Simon took the foremost of two seats at the control console while Rylee took the seat at the same console but to his right from where she could aim her Diemaco C8-CQB assault rifle over the bow of the RHIB. The remaining twelve seats were arranged in four rows of three abreast. Tanya took a seat in the last row to port to cover their rear. Debbie and Charlotte took seats directly behind Simon and Rylee with Anastasiya between them while Charlotte took the middle seat directly behind them. It was cold and the ride downriver would be even colder, and the captives were shivering. Simon pressed the starter buttons for the twin Mercury outboard motors which hung on the transom of the RHIB producing almost a six-hundred horsepower between them and capable of sending the RHIB over the water at some forty knots. Tanya and Rylee released the mooring lines before they returned to their seats as the powerful craft moved downriver.
"How are we getting out of Russia?" Debbie shouted into Simon's ear. "We're not getting out in this."
"We're flying out," Simon responded. "Aircraft should be landing any minute."
"Landing where?" Debbie persisted.
"Here."
"The river!?"
Simon did not respond but then Debbie heard a rising roar coming from behind them and she looked over the stern, but she could not discern anything until something very large, roared overhead and dropped down ahead of the RHIB.
"What the fuck!?"
The Beriev Be-200 Altair jet-powered flying boat touched down with the aft end of the fuselage, sending white water spraying into the air and causing a large wake which rocked the RHIB as it kept seventy yards to starboard of the aircraft. Some eight-hundred metres passed before the aircraft settled fully into the water and had slowed to just a few knots so that the RHIB could catch up and come alongside the cargo hatch to starboard which was swinging open on its hydraulics. Swiftly, everyone clambered aboard with the assistance of the crew aboard the aircraft. Simon kicked open the throttles of the RHIB a small amount with the wheel angled to starboard so the RHIB would clear the lowered starboard undercarriage. Then the cargo hatch swung closed and the jet engines which had never been shutdown spooled up and the undercarriage which had been used to brake the aircraft raised as the aircraft bumped over the water.
The aircraft accelerated to take off speed, covering a thousand metres before it lifted into the air.
..._...
All seven of the new passengers were guided into standard airline seating and their packs and long rifles were stowed for safety.
However, as Anastasiya fell into her seat while the aircraft bounced across the water, she called out in pain and grabbed her left side with her right hand for a few moments before she withdrew her hand.
"Oh, crap!" she exclaimed as she fainted.
"Shit," Simon stated as he saw the hand sodden with fresh red blood. "We need a medic!"
"We're here!" Doctor Jennifer Staite called out as she moved down the aisle between the seats with Rachel Clarkson immediately behind. "Pull her out of there, we need to take her aft."
Simon and Tanya manhandled Anastasiya out of her seat and they passed the girl to Jennifer and Rachel who took her aft to where a makeshift gurney was strapped to the deck along with some medical supplies, indicating the expectation of injuries. Jennifer and Rachel cut away Anastasiya's upper clothing to expose a nasty-looking gunshot wound. They set to work treating the injury which took almost thirty minutes, then while Jennifer was finishing up with Anastasiya, Rachel went to work on Charlotte – at the insistence of Debbie – cleaning and then wrapping her hand while splinting her two broken fingers, before moving onto Debbie and then Jake.
The entire flight was expected to take a full hour plus around twenty minutes or so.
..._...
Every second was a struggle.
At any moment, they expected to be blasted from the sky by a Russian missile or fighter jet but somehow the aircraft kept moving steadily eastward and a little bit south. Then, well over an hour into the flight, it came.
The pilot, Hank Dewhurst, stuck his head out of the cockpit. "We have been intercepted," he grinned.
Charlotte's heart sank and she could not contemplate how their pilot could be grinning. She looked out a window and she recognised the sleek outline of a Russian Sukhoi SU-27 Flanker air superiority fighter. They were toast.
Hank noticed Charlotte's expression and he grinned further. "Have no fear, young Charlotte; they be Ukrainian interceptors. "We are being escorted to Kharkiv in Ukraine."
"Isn't Ukraine in Russia?" Charlotte asked as Rylee piped up and Charlotte instantly regretted opening her mouth.
"Ukraine gained independence from Russia in 1991," Rylee lectured. "The Soviet Union had fallen apart and..."
"Thanks, Rylee," Simon said pointedly. "We all have Google."
Rylee scowled at the put down, but she did not care as she knew they were finally safe, as were Debbie, Charlotte, and Jake.
The classified SVR facility
Nizhny Novgorod, Russia
Colonel Kolya Vorobev of the SVR could not quash the grin on his lips as he faced his opposite number in the FSB.
Colonel Taravsov knew that he had been betrayed. Instead of FSB soldiers, his 'reinforcements' had been soldiers of the SVR led by Colonel Vorobev. His life was now forfeit and he was nothing more than a common prisoner.
"Арестовать полковника Тарасова." {'Place Colonel Tarasov under arrest.'}
Tarasov did not resist as he was disarmed, and handcuffs were applied to his wrists.
Thursday, March 15th
Kharkiv, Ukraine
23:55 GMT+2 (21:55 GMT)
They landed without fanfare at Kharkiv International Airport in eastern Ukraine.
Apparently, they had all been placed under arrest for 'violating Ukraine sovereignty without permission'. That position prevented a 'demand' by the Russian SVR for their return to Russia. The Ukrainian government was perfectly happy to tell the SVR where to go in relation to their 'demand'.
Everyone received medical treatment and were allowed to rest and recuperate for forty-eight hours before a Royal Air Force Voyager KC.2 transport aircraft arrived to ferry them back to old blighty. It would be a three-hour forty-minute flight, and everyone slept for the duration. Rachel and Jennifer sat together and discussed the injuries received by the captives – they were extensive and just the visible injuries. They both knew that the invisible mental injuries would be the worst to heal.
Healing skin and bones was relatively easy compared to healing the human psyche.
Sunday, March 18th
London, United Kingdom
16:05 GMT
Their arrival at RAF Brize Norton was without fanfare where they were escorted with all their equipment to a pair of Royal Navy AS365 N2 Dauphin helicopters which awaited them and would thence ferry them to a safehouse for debriefing.
The flight across the country was pleasant and reasonably comfortable with nice views, except for the unfortunate Anastasiya who had pretty much been kept incommunicado since their arrival in Ukraine. She had been sedated for much of the flight out of Russia but had been kept in isolation during their stay in Ukraine and during the long flight back to the United Kingdom. As far as everyone was concerned, she was the enemy until proven otherwise.
Their arrival at their destination had been coordinated with dusk. One at a time, each helicopter touched down onto a concrete grid illuminated by a ring of red luminescence denoting a double circle, one inside the other. Once the occupants of the first machine had moved away from the concealed helicopter pad, the helicopter vanished to be replaced by the second machine which also vanished once all its passengers had disembarked leaving the small group standing in darkness. But only for a moment as a tall man appeared.
"Good evening, all. My name is Honeyduke, and I welcome you to Eight Four Two. This way."
A few minutes later, shoulders sagged as they recognised the large hallway bedecked with dark wood floor-to-ceiling panelling on each wall which was the MI5 Safehouse known as Safehouse 842.
"Ah!" a familiar voice boomed. "You have all arrived!"
"Jasper!" Charlotte exploded.
"Welcome home, guys," Olivia said as she, Jessica, and Christopher appeared.
It was too much for Charlotte who collapsed into a chair and sobbed. Debbie herself felt weak but knew she was safe having spent time in the very same Safehouse during her time with MI5. Jake ignored the tears running down his face as he looked over some of his friends and for the first time in six months finally felt at ease. As for Anastasiya, she was separated from everyone by a female MI5 officer who took her into custody. Over the next two hours, their weapons and equipment were removed and Anastasiya's pack was taken away for further investigation. The full debriefing would wait until the following morning but until then, they were all left to their own devices. The children would all sleep in the same dormitory that night with Debbie sleeping next door. Jennifer and Rachel would take over a third room leaving Jasper in another room.
Everyone was very tired from all the travel, and nobody said very much as they slipped beneath cozy duvets after a large hot meal.
Monday, March 19th
MI5 Safehouse, Wiltshire
United Kingdom
09:00 GMT
They were allowed a brief lie-in before a leisurely breakfast in the vast dining hall – then came the hard work.
Debriefings had been arranged for all and a debriefing team had arrived from London during the night where they had thence taken over the library for the actual debriefings. Firstly, Charlotte was called in. The fourteen-year-old girl had her left hand and wrists bandaged, and her left arm hung in a sling around her neck. A small cut over her left eye bore a suture while the rest of her face bore many bruises. She walked with a pronounced limp from her thigh injuries but walked unaided as she was shown to a chair placed in the centre of a group of long dark oak tables arranged in a 'U' shape covered with piles and piles of paper. Behind the tables sat several men and women, some of whom were obvious worker drones there to assist their bosses, while three men and two women had the main seats, three facing the single chair and one to each side.
Charlotte took her seat and took in the people who would be debriefing her. She took in a woman at the far left of the tables with a small typing machine – the stenographer who would transcribe everything said during the debriefing. She passed over the underlings busy sorting through the mounds of paperwork and onto the five who would be debriefing her. She froze as she laid eyes on the central person and then as she felt intense anger building up inside her, she went ballistic as she leapt up from her chair and despite her injuries, she launched herself at the man who had no idea that his life was seconds from ending.
"You motherfucking bastard!" Charlotte screamed.
But even so, Sir Edmond Billington-Smyth went very white as he recognised danger. His security officer moved swiftly but not swiftly enough as Charlotte landed a top the man who fell backwards in his chair. Charlotte may have only had her right hand available but that did not prevent her from going to town on the man responsible for them going to Russia in the first place and then losing her and Debbie.
By the time the screaming Charlotte was dragged off the head of MI6, she had used up most of the world's known swear words and Sir Edmond Billington-Smyth's left eye and cheek were very bruised.
..._...
They reconvened some twenty minutes later.
"Hi, Ed – can I call you Ed?" Charlotte began. "I've been told I need to apologise to you, but I am not going to. However, I won't be killing you – today."
Sir Edmond Billington-Smyth nodded, knowing that it was as much as he could hope for considering the circumstances.
"I should be apologising to you, young lady," he said with forced sincerity. "The mission did not quite go according to plan.
"No shit, Sherlock!" Charlotte responded. "Now, you either ask me some questions, or I am so out of here."
Sir Edmond sighed as he made a mental note not to play word games with Predators nor to piss them off. He waved for one of his minions to begin the debriefing while he watched and listened. After ten minutes, he actually found himself impressed by the girl. Her recollection was first rate and her attention to detail was spot on. He began to understand what Jasper saw in the children. Ignoring the fact that they were all very young, they were an obvious asset and not disposable as he had originally chosen to believe.
Maybe those like Charlotte Perrin may enjoy a future in MI6 when they became of age, he thought.
..._...
Jasper Collins was in a very good mood.
Hearing that Charlotte had attacked Sir Edmond had made his day if not his week or month. He was overjoyed that Charlotte was safe, as well as Jake and Debbie, not to mention the extraction team. Though there were injuries, some serious, they were all alive which was the most important part. However, there was a proverbial fly in the ointment, and that was the mother of Tanya Enfield. Jasper had been briefed on events at GCHQ and he was at the safehouse to facilitate a reunion. According to Rylee and Simon, Tanya was unable to remember her mother and somehow nobody had thought to even check on whether her parents were alive or dead. Now, Madison Enfield was showing where her daughter had acquired her tenacity, and she would be arriving in a few minutes with Lynn. Tanya's young mind was still in a fragile state, and nobody could foretell how she might react when she eventually met her mother.
"Mr Collins?"
Jasper turned to a staff member of Safehouse 842.
"Your visitor is arriving now, sir."
"Thank you."
It was time.
..._...
Tanya Enfield was twelve years old and lived with her best friends, Rylee Clarkson and Simon Starling.
As far as she was concerned, they were her family, and Rylee's mother, Rachel, was her legal guardian. Tanya had no memory of her life before Urban Predator and she figured that she had killed her parents much like other Predators had done. The trio were resting from their trip to Russia, glad to be alive. Rylee had spent most of her time sleeping with occasional sorties to obtain food. Tanya would venture forth with Rylee to raid the kitchens before returning to eat and then doze with her friend. Simon, of course, would keep watch over them both while they slept.
Simon looked up as there was a knock on the door and Jasper entered.
"Simon, wake the girls and bring them to the drawing room, please."
"Right away," Simon responded as he figured a way to wake the two girls without losing his life in the process.
Jasper chuckled, knowing that Simon had a lot on his hands with the two girls.
..._...
The drawing room was tall and ornately decorated in the style of the mid-1800s whence the main house was built.
Simon knocked on the heavy oak door before pushing it open. He waved Tanya and Rylee in then followed along behind. He immediately smelled a rat as he spied Jasper, Lynn, Sinead, and Rachel standing around the huge fireplace with a roaring fire. He then clocked another woman whom he did not recognise but he saw Tanya freeze in place. The girl began to tremble as she stared at the unknown woman. Simon's keen eyes took in the face, the eyes, the shape of the mouth and nose and he found himself looking at an adult version of Tanya. Could it be, he considered? Rylee was also joining the dots and she was the first to speak the words.
"You are Tanya's mother."
"Yes, I am," Madison said calmly as she took in her daughter without all the military paraphernalia.
Right now, the youngster was just a normal-looking girl. It seemed like an age but then Tanya finally reacted. She turned about and walked out of the drawing room without a word leaving everyone standing speechless.
"Leave her to us," Simon said as he grabbed Rylee's left hand in his own and dragged her after Tanya.
Jasper grimaced – it was expected.
..._...
It seemed that somebody had been very busy overnight as Jake recognised much of the paperwork spread across the tables.
It was in Cyrillic but with translated versions alongside copies of the originals. Jake was unsure how his debriefing would go, so he braced up for what should be an interesting debriefing he thought.
"You had a turbulent time, young Jake," Sir Edmond commented dryly. "You almost sunk a Russian submarine; I see. We have read through everything Doctor Drylov wrote including the reports of the submarine captain."
"I had to destroy anything sensitive which could betray Fusion or Vengeance," Jake responded.
"Of course, and we congratulate you for that. You behaved impeccably and taking a submarine down with you was a stroke of genius. You are to be commended for putting loyalty ahead of self. It also seems that Doctor Drylov had difficulty in breaking you – according to his own notes, you never broke and never betrayed a living soul. While some find that incredible to believe, I have begun to truly understand how well you Predators were trained.
Jake grinned. "Is that just because Charlie handed you your arse, Sir Edmond?"
There was chuckling from around the table which stopped instantly as Sir Edmond glared at all those present.
"Charlotte was in the right, and I was wrong for putting her and Debbie Grey at risk. She reacted as she saw fit, and I will not see her punished for it. I think myself lucky that she only had one undamaged wing available."
Jake had been at the receiving end of Charlotte's 'wings' many times and one was more than enough to cause a lot of pain.
"I understand that you were drugged, and Doctor Drylov attempted to turn you – Yakov, wasn't it?"
"Yes, a nasty bastard," Jake commented. "I hope I'm rid of him, but I cannot be sure."
"Well, we can. The files obtained by Anastasiya have been authenticated and we have scientists at Porton Down identifying a retroactive chemical which should return you to normality. Now, about these other children, the Hunters. Were they any good?"
Jake made a derogatory sound before he spoke. "Bunch of fucking wankers! Drylov was trying to replicate Urban Predator but while he produced some interesting specimens, they were fucked up and no match for a trained Predator. They are no threat right now, but Drylov is on track."
"Well, it seems that Drylov has gone underground while the building you were held in has been taken over by the SVR."
Jake figured that their escape would be causing major repercussions in Russia.
Some twenty or so miles to the west...
Yeovilton, England
Kate Montgomery could not believe her luck as she found herself in helicopter geek heaven.
That afternoon, Kate and Keira were 'government representatives' overseeing the build of a brand-new helicopter, ostensibly for the Royal Marines. However, once the aircraft was functionally complete, it would be transported to another facility belonging to Wayne Industries where classified systems would be installed and tested. However, that was a good eight months away. Until then, Kate and Keira would be monitoring the build of the Augusta-Westland AW101 Merlin airframe carrying the registration ZR540.
Right at that moment, it was little more than a yellowy-green shell of stamped aluminium parts being assembled into what resembled the main fuselage of a large helicopter. There was a long way to go before ZR540 even had engines, let alone took flight but Keira and Kate would be on hand for that maiden flight before ferrying the machine across the country to London for weapons integration. The machine did not even have a name beyond the registration – no name had yet been considered and Nightshade would not be reused.
For Kate, it was heaven as not just Merlin helicopters were present, she was able to checkout new Wildcat helicopters destined for the Royal Navy as well as several other cutting-edge machines.