Dead Ice

TWENTY SEVEN

Willis held one of the bottles at the ready.

He’d found a length of wood and used the still-burning wreckage of the helicopter to turn it into a blazing torch. Admittedly, the conflagration was overkill, but it worked. They made their way back to the doors on the other side of the building where Professor was keeping an eye on the skidoos. He welcomed the thought of the Russkies charging out. He was ready to do some serious damage to East-West relations.

Maddock kept the others back as he moved past the skidoos.

Bones had handed over the heavy artillery. Even so he’d be at Maddock’s side, ready to take down all comers.

Willis hefted the burning cocktail, ready to hurl it through the doorway.

Leopov’s idea of trying to talk their way out of this without bloodshed appealed, but why on earth would a bunch of fanatics seemingly involved in a plot to assassinate their own president simply hand over Pandora’s Egg? It was naïve in the extreme.

Maddock eased the door open.

No gunshots greeted the slow groan. He waited, holding the team back.

Nothing.

The Russians waited somewhere in the near darkness within. Ready.

Maddock gestured for the team to move in. They took a couple of steps over the threshold and waited for the volley of gunfire. Nothing.

No. Not nothing.

In the silence Maddock heard a dry click and knew they were screwed. The point man had tripped some kind of trap.

“Get out!” he yelled, snatching hold of Leopov’s arm and pushing her back toward the open door. She stumbled as the first bullet dug into the concrete where her head had been a heartbeat before. They bundled back through the still open doorway out into the open air. Bones was on point. He had no idea if the man had been cut down until he saw him stumble out of the door behind them a few seconds later, bleeding. He’d taken a hit up in the soft flesh of his left bicep. His Arctic jacket was stained with blood. The big man didn’t so much as wince as he came out of there.

Maddock dragged Leopov to one side as a hail of bullets filled the air with deafening noise. It was pointless firing back into the darkness.

Willis didn’t hesitate. He flung the first of his blazing bombs inside.

The glass bottle hit the concrete floor and exploded with a gout of flame which seemed to suck in the air from outside to swell its angry fire before it died back. Amongst the roar of the flames Maddock heard a scream. At least one of the Russians was hurt. Willis launched a second bottle. The burning rag blazed a trail through the air as it turned end over end before spinning away into the line of flames beyond the threshold.

The scream was louder this time. A direct hit. A burning man staggered out through the doorway, dropping to his knees as the fire tore up his body, fusing cloth and flesh into one blackened, charred, mess of sores. The flames licked at his face. He brought his Kalashnikov up, spewing bullets until the trigger dry-clicked on the empty cartridge. The burning man didn’t release his grip. He couldn’t. It wasn’t a good way to die. He fell forward, dead, still burning, the cocktail soaking into his skin. The air reeked with the stench of charred meat.

Maddock saw others moving in the shadows behind him.

Bones ran toward the fallen man, trying to pull the coat off him but it was too late. And, truthfully, it was for the best.

“Leave him,” a voice from the doorway called. It was the leader of the Spetsnaz team. He had his submachine gun in front of him, ready to cut down Bones if the big man turned on him. He seemed fascinated by his enemy’s concern for his fallen comrade, as if it was an alien concept. “This is not my fight and it wasn’t his either. The man you want is inside. He is insane, believe me, there is no reasoning with him.”

“What do you propose?” Maddock called across the distance, not willing to believe it could be this easy.

“I would rather take my chances with Mother Russia than be part of his madness. But if you go in there, know that you enter at your peril.” The man had a curiously formal, old-fashioned way of talking.

“What about the rest of your men?”

“The rest? That was the only one left to take home.” He looked down at the body beside Bones. Maddock weighed up their options. There was a chance that the Russian was stalling them, that he’d sent word for more men to finish what he had started, but he sounded like a man who was broken, all of the fight beaten out of him.

It was impossible to believe that a couple of bottles of gasoline achieved that.

The man emerged from the darkness, crouched to put his weapon on the ground, then walked slowly toward Professor and the skidoos.

“Where’s the egg?” Maddock asked.

The Russian grimaced. “He has it in there.”

Their new captive held up his arms while Bones frisked him.

“He’s clean. What do you want to do with him, chief?”

“What are you going to do if I let you walk out of here?” Maddock asked.

“Go.” The look in his eyes told Maddock it was an honest answer.

“Okay. Get the hell out of here. Don’t turn around or I’ll put a bullet in your skull. Do we understand each other?”

The Russian nodded. “May God go with you,” he said, looking back toward the black hole that was the open door, and whatever lay across that blazing threshold. He crossed himself, then clambered onto one of the skidoos. Professor stepped back to let the man twist the ignition and power away from the camp, churning snow in his wake.

They watched as the skidoo receded in the distance.

None of them spoke.

Bones bent down to retrieve the fallen man’s weapon. “That was weird,” he said, breaking the silence. “Something happened in there. It doesn’t smell right.”

“Which is why we’re going in,” Maddock agreed. He turned to Leopov. “I’m not asking this time, Leopov. I don’t want you getting hurt when we go in there. Stay back with Professor. We’ll call you when the building’s secure. Ok?” She nodded. No argument.

Maddock and Bones headed back inside the building, no idea what was waiting for them inside.

On the threshold, Maddock stopped and turned to Professor. “Was our gear still on the skidoos?” Professor nodded. “Fire up the radio, get word back to the ship. We’re not hanging around here.” With that, he motioned for Bones to go in with him. They stepped into the smoky darkness as the cocktail’s fire burned out.