Black Ghosts

CHAPTER 31

“Piece of garbage,” said Tom Murphy, weighing the Kalashnikov in his huge hands. “I coulda made a better machine gun myself.”

Chico Valdez did not agree. “Beee-utiful!” he drawled, unleashing a burst of fire at the bales of straw at the far end of the barn.

Yuri was smiling from ear to ear. Not only had he just landed the best contract ever for himself and his men, but he liked the Americans. They were not at all what he had expected. They were real men, the kind it wasn’t so bad losing a war to, even if it was a cold war. He’d always had an image in his mind of longhaired freaks, high on something, stepping to the noise of some rock band. These men were Russian as far as he was concerned, only they couldn’t speak the language. “Edward,” he said, “why you come here?”

Edward stared in surprise at Yuri. The question was so unexpected. Until that moment he hadn’t realized that the man standing in front of him could exist on a level beyond the immediate. “What do you mean?”

“You do this for money?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why, then?”

“Free people must help other free people stay free, or they lose their own freedom in the end.”

“I wish I could be in America.” Yuri had a somber smile on his large face.

“America is an idea, a state of mind. You can make an America anywhere.” Edward noticed that all his men were silent and listening. “Okay, okay, enough with the philosophy,” he said, breaking the spell. “Yuri, do you have silencers?”

Yuri looked to Sokolov for a translation of the unfamiliar word. Sokolov said something and Yuri shook his head. “Nyet, nyet. But, come, I show you.” He walked over to a large metal trunk and opened it. Inside was an old but still functional crossbow. Edward couldn’t help laughing. Then he thought of something else. He asked Yuri if any of his men spoke English, and if so, could Edward borrow one of them for a time? “In case I need someone who speaks Russian,” he explained. Yuri introduced him to a tough-looking man in combat fatigues, whose name was Vanya, and explained to the Russian that he was now under Edward’s command. Then Yuri went off to position his men around the perimeter, ready to surprise whoever might venture in their direction.

Edward turned to his men. “We’ll be leaving this place in forty minutes,” he announced. Beckoning one of the pilots, he said, “Dan, we need to talk.”

“I figured there was a problem,” Dan said grimly. “What is it?”

“You have to make a decision. Where is Archie?”

“He’s taking a nap at the house. All this weaponry and stuff is not his bag.”

“We’re going to be moving out. Yuri and his men will try and protect this place, but I can’t guarantee they will manage.”

“Where are you guys heading?”

“We’ll make for the bunker. We’re going to try and cut the general off from his command and communication, put them in disarray. Then comes your part. You know what that is, but I can’t make you or Archie do it. Things have changed since we made the plans.”

“Forget it, Edward, I didn’t come all this way for nothing. We’re going ahead with it. Like you said, this is too big a deal to leave it to some bureaucrat to solve.”

“Listen, you need to know that there is probably a crack military unit on its way here as we speak. If they get here…”

“Edward, like I said, I know the risks. I also know that Archie would kill me if I pulled out. You go do your thing and we’ll do ours. And when it’s over we’ll all have a drink. Now forgive my language, but fuck off.”

“Do you need some help with getting the beast out of the hangar?”

“No, it’s a fantastic deal they got here. The hangar has doors on the other side and a piece of taxiing runway from there too. I just need the door opened and I can almost fly directly from the hangar.”

“By the way, how did it go in Greenfield, Arizona?”

“Man, you should have been there.” The pilot’s eyes lit up. “It was a piece of cake. We gave them the papers. They had the plane all fueled up and ready to go. All they cared about was that the money went through. It was great, just great.”

Each man chose his personal weapon and filled his shoulder pouch with as many rounds of ammunition and grenades as one could possibly carry. Jean-Pierre was assigned the crossbow, while several of the others strapped on grenade launchers or Stinger missiles. The rest of the stuff was loaded on the trucks and they were ready to go.

Sokolov took out a map of the area and spread it over the hood of the jeep. He and Edward pored over it. The colonel pointed out the road leading to the bunker and described the terrain.

“Did you guys load the explosives?” Edward asked the sergeant.

“Yep, they’re on that truck. Tom will be driving it. Are we taking the Cherokee too?”

“Yes, we’ll take three trucks and the Cherokee,” said Edward. “Who’s the expert with explosives?”

“Valdez, why?”

“I want him to rig the truck so it can be detonated with a remote.”

“How do you want it to be triggered?” asked Valdez, who was standing by the truck.

“Here.” Edward handed him the walkie-talkie. “You can use this. Just make sure you don’t pick an overused frequency.”

“When do you want me to get it set up?”

“Now, on the way. I’ll need it ready within about half an hour. Can you do that?”

“You’ll hear it if I can’t.” Valdez smiled, showing his gleaming, pointed teeth.

“Okay! Let’s go, let’s go!” Edward yelled.

The small convoy set off into the darkness of the Russian night. After twenty minutes of driving, Edward ordered Doug Findley to stop the jeep. Looking all around him, Edward got out and studied the lay of the road. The spot where they had come to a halt was on the side of a gentle slope. On one side the hill rolled down some sixty feet toward a small brook, and on the other side of the road there was a thick pine grove.

“Sarge,” Edward said finally, “park the truck with the explosives over there.” He pointed to a large boulder on the side of the road near the pine grove. “Get the other trucks down that path.” He pointed to a small dirt side road that forked off the main road about seventy feet away.

“Are we ambushing someone?”

“You bet we are.”

“Done,” the sergeant said and began to shout orders, getting things moving the way Edward wanted.

“What are you up to?” Sokolov asked, climbing out of the jeep.

“We have to spend the night somewhere, might as well get something done.” Edward looked in the direction of the truck that was loaded with explosives. Jean-Pierre and Jeremy were standing by it, waiting for instructions. “Tell them,” Edward said, pointing at the two men, “how to get to the bunker. I need them in an observation position. Meanwhile, I’ll get the others into position here.”

Sokolov responded immediately, marching off briskly toward the two men. Edward and the sergeant placed the rest of the men at fifteen-foot intervals on the wooded side of the road. Each man had his designated kill area. Now all they needed was a target.

Sokolov returned to Edward with the two men. “I believe they could get there with no problem.”

“You guys take the jeep, and this.” Edward handed Jeremy a small radio transceiver, one of the units Larry had sent them on the plane. “We should be getting in range in a couple of hours, as soon as we finish the work we have here.”

“Okey-doke,” Jeremy said, and Jean-Pierre nodded.

As the jeep moved down the road and out of sight, Edward and Sokolov went into the thick grove, heading toward the sergeant, who was the farthest man from the truck.

“Where is Valdez?” Edward asked.

“Still in the truck. He said he wasn’t through yet, and if he was late to start without him.” The sergeant chuckled.

“He better get out of there fast. We don’t have that much time left. If my calculations are correct, they should be here any minute — if they’re coming at all.”

“There,” the sergeant said, pointing to the back of the truck. Valdez had just leaped down and was running toward them.

“Colonel Sokolov,” said Edward, “if we manage to knock them off, can you try and use their radio, if there still is one, and give them some disinformation?”

“I can try. The question is if they have a direct link or not.”

The sound of vehicles changing gears came suddenly from down the road. Even though they were all in place and expecting something to happen, it was still somewhat of a surprise. Valdez handed Edward the walkie-talkie. “You do the honors, sir,” he whispered.

Led by a command car, four trucks rumbled along the road. Edward could see the soldiers seated in the back of the trucks: Some were asleep, others were talking and laughing as soldiers do. At that moment the leader, seated in the command car, had noticed the parked truck as he rounded a bend in the road. The car came to a halt. Perfect, Edward thought.

An officer got out of the command car and, accompanied by a soldier, walked over to the truck. He stopped a few feet from the cabin and shouted something. When there was no reply he drew his gun and spoke to the soldier standing next to him, who ran back to the first truck, which had already come to a stop. Soon there were some fifteen soldiers standing by the officer.

Edward pressed the switch on the walkie-talkie. The blast tore into the first of the trees, leaving a clearing thirty feet wide. The command car rolled down the hill, turning over and smashing against the rocks it encountered on the way. The first of the trucks seemed to jump slightly to one side and began to burn. There was no sign of any of the men who had been standing by what was now a large smoldering crater. Before anyone could get off the other two trucks, RPGs hit the vehicles in several places. The burning soldiers who jumped off the back of the trucks were put out of their misery by the men waiting in the darkness of the woods. It was over almost as soon as it had started. No one was heading for the airfield now, Edward thought. Not for the moment anyhow.

“Vern,” the sergeant shouted, “go get the radio out of that fucking command car. See if it’s working.”

The slim man moved quickly down the hill. He stopped for a moment, leveled his submachine gun and fired into a bush. There was a thud of someone falling, and he went on. “I need a hand,” he shouted from the bottom of the hill. “It’s a big mother. Unless you plan to come down here to use it, I’ll need someone to help me get it out.”

Before Edward or the sergeant could say anything, Chico Valdez was already on his way.

“If it’s working,” Sokolov commented, “we should wait until they contact us. That way we’ll at least know our own call name.”

“Good thinking,” Edward replied.

His men were walking among the wreckage, searching for tools they might be able to use — or for someone who might need help in dying.