Revolution (44 page)

The police commander smiled cruelly. ‘No – you have. Take him to the cells!’

As Megan watched in despair, the president was led away. Behind Megan in the operations room, Sir Wilkins picked up a phone and dialled a number, speaking quickly and efficiently.

‘This is the president’s office. Please inform the commander of the air package to begin an attack on
all
enemy positions immediately. Destroy Talyn!’

As Severov dragged Megan through the doorway, Megan caught the attache’s eye.

‘I hope you can live with yourself,’ she muttered.

Sir Wilkins smiled quietly.

‘This is the way of politics,’ he replied. ‘Governments survive, people die.’

***

‘Steady son.’

Callum kept one hand on Robert’s shoulder as the cameraman wavered unsteadily on the roof of Government House. Callum turned to look down at the SEALS far below them on the parade ground.

‘It’s done, now get in there and find out where Megan is!’

As the SEALS moved, Callum watched as Robert unplugged a laptop computer from the aerial array on the roof of Government House.

‘Direct hack,’ he said as he worked, trying not to look down at the parade ground far below. ‘They’ve seen the recording that we made, not the live feed. Most of the Mordanian troops are on the same network and will have seen the same broadcast, but whether that’s enough to protect this Sophie D’Aoust woman I don’t know.’

Callum helped Robert down the steeply tiled roof and then down to the parade ground, where the SEALS had taken charge. Lieutenant Cole looked at him.

‘This had better be worth it,’ the soldier grumbled. ‘My countrymen are under fire out there and I’m here with you doing damned television repairs.’

‘If we find what I expect to find in there,’ Callum replied, ‘and we can inform the UN and your carrier fleet about it, your people won’t be under fire for much longer. Let’s go.’

Cole gave a signal to his heavily unit, and instantly the troops entered Government House and began spreading out, covering all points and clearing rooms as they went.

Callum followed the SEAL team in, Robert alongside him and filming as they moved.

*

Alexei Severov finished tying Megan to the chair in the cellar before standing back and regarding her for a moment as he lit one of his cigars. Megan could tell that the Mordanian would not make Megan’s final moments long, for there was little time, but she doubted they would be anything less than unimaginably painful.

‘I will hide,’ Severov said. ‘I will not be found in this land.’

‘You will be found, and betrayed, by your own people as you have betrayed them,’ Megan replied, strangely calm now.

Severov shrugged and reached for a knife sheathed by his ankle.

‘Either way, you’re not going to know about it, Megan.’

Megan rocked back hard on the chair before Severov could draw his blade, sending herself flying backwards and away from the Mordanian, who lurched forward. The chair hit the ground and one of the legs snapped. Megan kicked out hard at the commander’s stomach, catching him a glancing blow. Severov span aside with a grunt of pain.

Megan rocked and jerked in the chair with frantic violence, felt the old wood break and splinter as she wrestled herself free. She yanked her wrists wildly and felt the remainder of the chair collapse around her, and desperately she staggered to her feet.

Too late. Severov lunge furiously toward her.

It was the punches that came first, sharp, painful jabs to Megan’s eyes and nose, cutting her upper–lip and sending lightning bolts of agony through her skull as she staggered backwards into one of the cellar’s stone pillars. She was about to lose consciousness after the fifth or sixth blow when Severov backed off, breathing lightly, and reached down again to the sheath at his ankle. Megan watched through fading, blurring vision as slowly, demonstratively, Severov drew the long bladed knife from its sheath and moved forward again.

‘Enjoy, Megan,’ he whispered malevolently, and the blade flashed toward her.

Megan ducked as a sudden crack of rifle fire and shouted commands in American caused Severov to whirl, moving away from Megan and staring instead at the cellar door with panic written across his features.

‘In here!’
Megan bellowed at the top of her voice.

Severov turned and ran, swinging the knife at Megan’s chest as he did so. Megan staggered out of range of the glittering blade, tripped and crashed down onto a stack of empty crates near one wall as the cellar door burst open and a squad of Navy SEALS tumbled into the room, flashlights blazing into Megan’s eyes.

‘Son of a bitch!’

Lieutenant Cole rushed into the room, taking in the scene and with it Megan’s bloodied, bedraggled form. Megan struggled upright.

‘Get these bloody things off me!’ she shouted.

Cole complied instantly, removing the binding from Megan’s wrists as Callum burst into the cellar. The big Scotsman’s face fell slightly as he took in Megan’s battered features.

‘Not
too
late then,’ Callum said apologetically.

A door slammed somewhere in the back of the cellar, and Megan looked towards it before turning to Lieutenant Cole.

‘Where does that door lead?’ she demanded.

‘It’s an old supply corridor that leads out to the parade ground,’ one of the SEALS replied for his commander.

‘Sir Wilkins, the UN attache for Mordania, is behind all of this,’ Megan said to Cole. ‘Find him and arrrest him as soon as you can, and make sure that the US Navy guys out there in the Black Sea are watching television when Sigby’s next report comes out. And find President Akim, he’s in the holding cells somewhere in here!’

‘What about Severov?’ Callum asked.

Megan turned and dashed out of the cellar, climbing the steps outside two at a time.

The corridor was empty as she sprinted along it toward the nearest exit out onto the parade ground. She ran through the open double doors and out into the cold afternoon air.

The snow was falling again as she ran across the now deserted parade ground. She could hear the sound of artillery and small–arms fire in the distance as she ran, probably out on the fringes of the city.

Ahead, a narrow set of footprints had marked the thin layer of snow, spaced far apart in the manner of a running man. They had emerged from a side–entrance of Government House, crossing in front of Megan and heading toward the opposite corner of the parade ground.

Megan changed direction and saw that the prints led to a door that itself opened onto a corridor that led to the motor pool on the north side of the compound. Megan ran harder and sprinted through the open doorway.

The blow struck her deep in her stomach and folded her over as she ran, and she tumbled to the floor. She saw Alexei Severov lower his knee, slam the door shut and lock it with a bolt before he lunged at Megan, the knife in his right hand held low by his thigh, quick and lethal.

Megan rolled away and leapt to her feet as Severov whipped the blade in a quick back–handed slice toward her throat. Megan, off–balance and thoroughly winded, staggered backwards out of range, barely avoiding the silvery metal and giving ground toward the motor pool as she did so.

Severov’s eyes glittered with malice as he nipped forwards, light and fast on his feet as he lunged and turned, the blade flickering and whispering on the air as it whipped and sliced toward Megan.

Megan ducked, falling back with each of Severov’s attacks toward the end of the corridor and the closed door there. Her breath laboured in her chest and her stomach cramped painfully with each movement as she tried to avoid the rapidly flying blade whilst searching for a weakness in the Mordanian’s attack. Megan’s addled mind struggled to think as the end of the corridor drew closer, Severov pushing her further backwards without relent.

Megan fixed her eyes on Severov’s, behind the rapidly moving knife, and finally she found her balance and regained her breath. The Mordanian lunged forwards with a straight stab to the chest. Megan, continuously on the back foot, suddenly changed stance and moved into the attack. She turned aside from the wicked thrust as it flashed past her chest, gripped Severov’s wrist in her left hand and upper arm in her right before driving her shoulder deeply into the Mordanian’s chest.

Severov, caught off–guard by the sudden and aggressive forward move, span around and lost his footing, shouting out as he plummeted toward the ground on his back. As he fell Megan reversed her movement and turned away from the direction of Severov’s fall as she twisted the Mordanian’s wrist and yanked his arm upwards with all of her might.

Severov let out a howl of pain as he crashed onto the ground and his arm was wrenched out of its socket with a dull crunch. The knife toppled from his grasp to land beside Megan in the corridor. Megan let out a brutal shout of elation as she turned, lifting her right boot and smacking it down on the Mordanian’s head.

Severov’s head snapped to one side and he fell limp.

*

The SEALS watched in silence as Megan worked.

After a few minutes of observation, Lieutenant Cole gave a signal to his men. Callum watched as the soldiers melted away from the parade ground and the lieutenant turned to Megan with a serious expression.

‘We were just guarding the compound. We saw nothing. Ten minutes and then we all vanish, okay?’

Megan nodded dispassionately and Callum walked away with the SEALS toward the nearest door, leaving the parade ground and closing the door behind them.

Megan waited for a few seconds until she was sure all of the soldiers were out of earshot, and then she lifted a bucket of icy water and dashed it across Alexei Severov’s face. The Mordanian coughed and spluttered, coming awake as he lay on the snowy concrete, blinking and wincing as the pain in his head hit him. He looked around and saw Megan squatting nearby.

Megan did not speak, simply watching as Severov took in his surroundings, realising that he was bound at the wrists and that he was lying in the fenced–off corner of the compound: the kennels He looked at Megan for a moment, the chain–link fence separating them.

‘We only have a short amount of time,’ Megan said, ‘and you have something that you need to tell me.’

Severov rolled and managed to get awkwardly to his feet. Megan watched him for a moment before speaking again.

‘Where is Sophie D’Aoust?’

Severov returned her gaze for a long moment, and then his cruel smile reappeared.

‘The dogs will not attack me,’ he said confidently. ‘They know my scent.’

Megan said nothing, gesturing instead to Severov’s chest. The Mordanian looked down and then sharply up again, panic collapsing his features as he realised that Megan had clothed the commander in one of the old uniforms from the cellar.

‘I rubbed the scent of the other, unwashed uniforms all over your body,’ Megan said, and smiled, ‘just in case.’

Megan watched with interest as the Mordanian swallowed thickly, his eyes searching for an escape from the compound. They could both hear the dogs now, sniffing and scraping at the solid doors of their kennels, seperated from Severov by a single sheet of thick wood. Megan gestured to the handle that lifted the door.

‘Give me a reason not to lift it.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Severov said. ‘You would be tried for crimes against humanity.’

‘That’s rich, from you,’ Megan observed. ‘But as it happens, we are completely alone for the next seven or eight minutes. Long enough for those animals to do their work, don’t you think?’

Severov’s bottom lip trembled and his legs bowed slightly at the knee.

‘I don’t know where she is,’ he said.

Megan sighed, stood up from her squatting position and strolled across to the handle. She took hold of it and looked at Severov, who wailed in despair.

‘How do I know you won’t release them anyway?’

‘You don’t,’ Megan replied. ‘Although there are two good reasons why I wouldn’t. Firstly, I am not the inhuman, murderous, hateful and cruel weasel that you are: and secondly, because I would rather see you serve decades in jail for your crimes than give you the easy way out of a painful, but short, death. It’s your call, Severov.’

Megan gripped the handle tighter, and Severov glanced fearfully at the kennel door before speaking.

‘She is in Talyn,’ he said finally. ‘I swear it is the truth, she is in Talyn with Rameron’s forces.’

‘What?!’

Severov mastered his mounting fear.

‘To ensure the loyalty of Martin Sigby, I told her that the girl would remain in the hands of my men and would suffer untold pain should she be tempted to defer from my instructions. However, in reality such a plan is flawed as it is possible, no matter how remotely, that the girl might escape. I felt that it would be wiser just to have her killed, but why do it myself and risk arrest? Instead, I decided to let the Americans do it for me.’

Megan felt her heart plunge as Severov looked directly at her.

‘Yes, Megan. You yourself supplied Wilkins and I with the location of General Rameron’s headquarters. Now, she is part of the prisoner exchange and – how do the Americans say it – about to be bombed back into the Stone Age.’

‘How?’ Megan demanded. ‘Exactly how?’

‘We drugged her and put her on a stretcher, then flew her out of the city in a helicopter as part of the prisoner exchange. Her bandages disguised her identity. Nobody asked any questions. Now, she is in Talyn.’

Megan’s face darkened with fury and despair.

‘And right in the line of fire of the American bombers. You really have thought of everything.’

‘You still have time to save her,’ Severov pleaded. ‘It is the truth I swear!’

Megan nodded. ‘I believe you.’

Severov held her gaze for a moment, and in that instant he knew that Megan was going to betray him. His features twisted into an cruel grimace.

‘No matter what you do she is gone!’

Megan covered her own anguish with a grim smile. ‘And so are you.’

‘No!’

Megan pulled the handle hard and the kennel door shot upwards. From the darkness within the huge North–Caucasian Mastiffs bounded out into the light, howling and snarling and baying.