Love Is for Tomorrow (22 page)

Khabib laughed out loud.

“Fled from the wolf but ran into a bear.”

Out of the frying pan and into the fire
.

“One of us has to die and it won’t be me,” Antoine said.

“Maybe both,” Khabib answered. “When planning for revenge, dig two graves. In your case, make it a thousand more.”

Antoine considered his options and cursed. The detonator was on Khabib’s side. He had to move.

Antoine pulled his sidearm and swung around the door frame.

He shot the fire sprinkler and set off the alarm. Water showered down from the ceiling into the hallway. Through the rain, he dove headlong into the room. Immersed in mist, he twisted sideways. He saw something, a man sized shape, where the rain disappeared like a black hole. It was invisible but defined by its absence.

The shape lit up with a flash, firing at him.

Antoine managed to fire two shots before hitting the ground and rolling.

He got up, dazed and taking a split second to orientate. Bright flashes riddled the air with silent shots that trailed him along the wall. He shot another two rounds, then dove behind the backpack bomb before jumping forward to the stair’s handrail.

He hit something.

The blurred thing stumbled.  It spat out blood, dripping into reality. It crashed down the stairs, slithering on its back to the detonator.

Antoine chased it with gunfire.

The ghost stopped. It spat out flashes of lightning.

Antoine stumbled, falling down the stairs. The muzzle flashes ceased.

The hollow clack of a dry fire mechanism followed. Antoine slid his knife out. He thrust the dull and blackened blade down at Khabib. It met the cold steel of the Spetsnaz’s own blade.

The knife recoiled in Antoine’s hand. He threw his body into the next stab, but hit plates, steel and armor. It could find no entrance.

Antoine felt the impact tingle up his arm, drawing blood. Khabib stumbled forward, reaching for the detonator.

He loomed over Antoine. There was the sense of betrayal in his eyes. Khabib couldn’t see Antoine’
s face.  He still believed that Nazyr had turned.

It was the only reason he hesitated to press the button.

Antoine picked up a guard’s Yarigin pistol from the ground.

“Die, Koschei,” Antoine said.

He fired. The weapon jammed.

Khabib stood before him.

“There is no way for two deaths to come for you, but from one you will never run away.”

Khabib lunged and rammed the stock of his rifle into Antoine’s face. His goggles and nose broke. The glass cracked and shards cut into his face.

He was exposed.

Khabib saw that he wasn’t Nazyr.

“Whoever you are, when death comes, no tricks can help you.”

A Colt 1911 blew the gun out of Khabib’s hand. A second shot, yanked his body around. A third, slammed him against the wall and a fourth bored a hole in his torso.

Khabib fell. His gun and detonator clattered to the ground. A whisper escaped his lips. He reached for the detonator.

“Grasp all…,” he said.

A boot stepped onto his hand, stopping him from reaching the detonator. Cloaked in a construction worker’s overalls- stood Antoine’s old comrade, Gabriel Hunter.

“...lose all.” Hunter ended the sentence for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

RED SQUARE

“The strongest wins.” - Motto of 45th Guards Spetsnaz Regiment

Moscow, Russia

Hunter aimed his Colt at Khabib’s head. Khabib’s fingers went slack. With his other foot Hunter kicked the detonator out of reach and it skidded into the hallway.

Hunter held out his hand to Antoine.

“Good to see you again, Hunter,” Antoine said. His friend smiled as he helped him up.

“Just like in Paris,” Hunter said.  

“Well, more bloody,” Antoine replied, breathing through spit-wet teeth.

Through the windows they could see Kremlin guardsmen regrouping for another attack. Some were trying to flank them. They were aiming at their position.

“Well… Antoine, if that is your name now,” Hunter said. “We should get going.”

The stealth-suits were still working. Hunter put on Khabib’s. Antoine followed Hunter. They made their way out of the building and headed eastwards. It was the same way Khabib had taken to reach the Senate.

Kovac drove the speeding van towards the west exit gate. The guards were closing Borovitskaya gate in front of them.

Mini cringed in the passenger seat, clinging to the safety handle. The doors were still open on both sides.

Kovac slowed down, just enough to let Jason and Smith jump in. No time for seatbelts.

The massive gate closed tight. It would stop a car or even truck dead in its tracks.

Mini spread her arms as if bracing for an impact.

“Not this time, sweetie,” Kovac said.

Kovac hit the accelerator.

“Mini, hit that door,” he said.

Mini leant out of the passenger cabin, holding on with one hand and reaching out with the other. She aimed the under barrel grenade launcher of her assault rifle at the gate.

“A little more left Kovac,” Antoine heard her say.

Kovac jerked the wheel violently. There was not much time left before the impact. “You really should have let me drive,” Mini muttered, one eye narrowed to a slit.

She fired.

The loud hollow thunk sounded not a moment too soon. The grenade hit the gate and stuck in the middle of the door. Nothing happened. The van was only a second away from impact.

Mini fired the manual detonator and the gate exploded off its hinges.

Kovac didn’t have time to brake. He steered clear of the bigger obstacles and barely fit the car through the gate at break-neck speed.

Side mirrors shattered on the wall. The back of the van collided with the exit wall and banked out. Kovacs yanked the wheel back. The van slid over a patch of grass. It was only seconds away from overturning. Kovacs brought it back on the road.  The wheels squealed
as he hit the brakes. They were entering traffic on a busy road. Cars rushed past them honking horns and swerving to avoid the intruding van.

“Woman, you almost gave me a heart-attack!” Kovac exclaimed.

But it was also their chance to hide in the crowd. Behind Kovac, Smith and Jason shut the stowage doors close, taking a last look at the red walls of the Kremlin. They had made it out of that fortress, at least for now. But the same red of the walls, had crept inside their car.

“Van team, what’s your status?” Antoine asked over the comms.

“Fine, but we will have to clean the car,” Smith replied. “There’s blood sprayed over the floor, walls and ceiling. Partly our own.”

“Damn, Smith,” Jason said. “Your fingers are drenched in thick purple.”

“I’m sorry boys,” Smith said. “Khabib got me.”

Antoine followed the traffic on the comms, his finger pressed on his ear.

“If we get him immediate medical care there’s still a chance,” Mini said.

“We can’t afford it,” Kovac said.

“What other options do we have?” Mini said.

“If we leave him here, a worse fate than that awaits him,” Jason said.

Antoine knew Kovac wouldn’t make the decision lightly, but it’s what they signed up for. This operation was not officially sanctioned by any country.

“As long as no one saw the evidence, we are simply criminals at best, terrorists at worst,” Jason said.

They couldn’t get Smith any help until they were safe on friendly ground.

“So we truly are alone.”

Antoine approached the east gate with Hunter. The raising of the alarm had led to a lockdown. No one was let in or out. They were trapped with the energy reserves of their stealth suits running low.

Antoine closed in on the guard watching over the gate house. A second one stood on the other side of the walkway. Hunter would take care of him. Antoine nodded, then closed in on his target.

The watchman couldn’t see him. Antoine knocked him out with the stock of his rifle. Hunter let his crack against the second guard’s neck. The two slumped beside the gate.

Antoine broke into the guardhouse. A third soldier stormed out and crashed right into him. He reached for his sidearm and shot the guard. Antoine cursed. He hit the button for the gate. The door swung open. Hunter was outside, covering their backs. Shots hit the wall all around them.

“Let’s go,” Hunter said.

Together they ran through the exit, a bright field opening in the gap and expanding in front of them. Antoine could smell freedom but they would have to make it much further. Beyond that gate lay Red Square.

They passed the memorial of the nameless soldier. The statue watched over them. They too were nameless. No IDs and no one to take responsibility for their actions.

Police sirens wailed everywhere. Antoine turned right to reach the south end. There was no cover. All that could save them was their stealth technology and speed. From opposite the plaza, Antoine spotted Priya leaving the building. She was running towards them, but headed southwards. She knew it was safer to stay separated.

A vehicle crashing through the barricades got Antoine’s attention. It trailed white smoke behind it as it fishtailed over Red Square. There were still civilians there. They scattered and fled in all directions. The Dodge Grand Caravan sped past them, and braked. The door opened.

Police vehicles entered Red Square from the north, but they were too late. His friends would get him, Priya and Hunter out.

“Get into the car, Hunter,” he said. “Don’t wait for me.”

Antoine could make it out unseen. Priya was still off their radar but Hunter stood out with his stealth cloak malfunctioning. Policemen appearing in front of St. Basil’s cathedral aimed their guns at him. They shouted and opened fire.

Hunter threw himself flat on the ground and rolled over. The van hit the brakes and swerved between him and the police officers. A door flew open. An arm shot out and pulled Hunter in.

“Get the hell out of here,” Antoine shouted.

The policemen stared at him like they had seen a ghost. He gave away his position to tell his friends what to do.

The Dodge sped away. One of the policemen took a shot at the car. The other turned on Antoine. The van was out of reach now. It roared down the square to the road where more barricades awaited.

He needed to catch up. He knew the escape plan.

Priya knew it too. He caught a glimpse of Priya running on the other side of the street. He tried to get to her.

The van broke through a roadblock, overcoming the last thing that could have stopped it before the bridge.

The police knew something was up, when Priya tried to follow the car. Once they pulled themselves together, they stretched out their hands and yelled for her to stop.

Priya was running in front of Antoine in full speed. While she was lighter and faster, she also had to find a way through the pile of snack and souvenir stands on the street. Antoine just followed her at every turn. The bridge loomed ahead.

The van had made it up the bridge. It banked right hard, from the outmost fast lane and pulled over to the first one, before touching the sidewalk. It didn’t brake. The Dodge broke through the barrier and hurled over the bridge.

The van hit the water and sunk. Moscow river swallowed the whole vehicle in one go.

Priya kept going. She leapt onto the handrail and faltered. She looked down and Antoine knew she couldn’t jump. Fear of heights.

Antoine sprang forward. He landed on the handrail next to her and vaulted over. Somehow he got hold of her wrist. Antoine’s momentum yanked her forward. She lost her balance and went over with him. It was a long fall.

The impact took Antoine by surprise and nearly knocked him out. It overloaded his nerves. The cold sucked the air out of his lungs. He was desperate to surface for air. He had to do the opposite and swim down. Out of the corner of his eye Antoine saw the van drifting in the deep. His comrades climbed out of the side door, one after another and headed to the base of the bridge.

Shadows appeared on the water surface. People were gathering on the bridge. They lit up with bright flashes and muffled gunfire. The police were on them and getting desperate. A hail of bullets rained down like a shower of arrows, trailing down fingers of compression waves.

Priya turned from him and swam to the bridge. Antoine followed, pulling himself forward with wide arm strokes.

His comrades made it to the foundation of the bridge. All the equipment for their flight was stored there. They pulled back a weighted tarpaulin. Scuba tanks and underwater scooters, one for each of them, were hidden beneath.