Private Beijing

Chapter 94

West had left his mic open so I heard voices speaking in Russian as they carried him away. I prayed he was still alive and wondered whether I should go for him or stay on mission. If he was dead, I’d be wasting my energy and risking complete failure. If he was alive, I could rescue him later. Making the correct decision felt straightforward.

I hurried over to my ingress point, a section of hangar wall directly behind the main entrance. West was supposed to engage Alekseyev’s men in a frontal assault while I used the cover of the hostages to attack from the rear, but the plan was in tatters now. I’d have to improvise.

I took a canister of nano-thermite foam from my equipment belt, sprayed the contents in a thin arc from the ground to an apex about six feet above it, and then back down again. The explosive foam expanded and took on a more solid texture as it clung to the hangar wall. I primed a small detonator, stuck it in the foam near the top of the arc and backed away a dozen paces. I turned my back and covered my ears as there was a staccato blast from the thousands of tiny explosive charges that made up the foam, detonating in rapid succession.

The moment the noise subsided, I ran toward the hole I’d made, raised my HK416 rifle and went through.

The interior was gloomy but I had my scope. Through the smoke I saw two figures by the main door and three more by the hostages. There were shouts, commands barked in Russian, and the men turned toward me, guns raised.

The first cracks of gunfire broke out. Bullets whistled around me. I picked out my first target and squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit him in the chest, and I had moved on to the second man before the first dropped.

Headshot.

The third guy made the mistake of moving away from the hostages, so I ran toward him at an angle. The space he had created between himself, Dinara, Feo, and the others meant I didn’t have to be so careful with my aim. As he opened fire and tried to compensate for the speed and direction of my movement, I sprayed a volley in his general direction and a cluster of bullets caught him in the knees and thighs.

He went down screaming.

The two men by the door were firing wildly now and one or two of the bullets went into the assembled hostages. I heard grunts, nothing more because they were all gagged, but I knew someone had been injured. I had to take those guards out, so I pulled an M67 grenade from my belt, released the spoon, and threw it over and past the hostages.

The green metal ball travelled the eighty or so feet separating me from the two men. When it hit the ground between the pair of them, they stopped shooting and tried to dive clear, but they weren’t quick enough and were caught in the blast, which picked them up and hurled their broken bodies through the main entrance. I’d judged the distance well so that, although buffeted by the blast wave, the hostages weren’t affected by the fireball or full force of the explosion.

I raced over to them and found Feo, the former Moscow police officer who now worked for Private. He was easy to pick out because of his enormous size. I used my tactical knife to cut his bonds and he removed his blindfold and gag.

“Jack Morgan, you magnificent immortal!” he boomed, and followed it up with something equally expressive in Russian.

“We don’t have much time,” I said. “Cut the others loose while I watch the door then take them out the back. There’s a blast hole. Head west through the forest. I’ll find you.”

“What about you?” Feo asked.

“They’ve taken a friend. I need to get him back,” I replied. “And I have to find Alekseyev.”

“Valery Alekseyev?” Feo’s eyes widened.

I nodded. “He’s behind this. He gave the order to have you kidnapped. He needs to answer for this and everything else he’s done.”

He nodded and I handed him my knife.

I ran to the door and watched the yard and command building opposite. There was no movement. No guards swarming toward me. Everything was still and the only sounds were those of Feo and the people he’d freed, working to free others. The lack of response was unnerving and I couldn’t understand why Alekseyev wasn’t sending his men at us.

The two guards who had been caught by the grenade lay in the dirt, their bodies scorched and twisted, and I wondered why their comrades hadn’t come to avenge them.

“Jack.”

I turned to see Dinara Orlova hurry toward me. Anna Bolshova, the officer from Moscow Police who had joined Private soon after the Bright Star investigation, was with her. Behind them, most of the hostages were free and on their feet. I could see two team members I didn’t recognize being helped by others. They had both been caught in the crossfire, but their injuries didn’t look life-threatening and they were able to walk.

“Thank you for coming,” Dinara said. “Thank you so much.”

I noticed she and Anna were carrying guns taken from the men I’d shot. Good.

“Take the staff out through the back and go through the forest. Head west and I’ll find you.”

“We’re coming with you,” Dinara responded. “Feo says Valery Alekseyev is responsible for all this.”

“Yes,” I replied. “He’s taking revenge on me. On us. Yevgeny Salko is his brother.”

Dinara understood the implication immediately, and Anna sucked in a sharp breath of disbelief.

“Feo says he has one of your friends,” Dinara remarked.

“Marlon West from the embassy, but you need to go. You’re not in any shape—”

Dinara cut me off. “And what shape are you in? You look tired, battered, no better than us.”

“She’s right,” Anna added. “We’re coming with you. I’d like to see Alekseyev myself.”

“Don’t waste time arguing with them,” Feo said, walking over with a ShAK-12 in his hands. “Or with me. The others will tend to the wounded and take them to safety.”

I looked over his shoulder and saw the rest of the Private Moscow staff making their way out of the hangar through the blast hole. I knew there was no point arguing with these three.

“Come on,” Feo said. “Let’s go get your friend.”