Private Beijing

Chapter 95

We crossed the yard between the hangar and the command block, and I marveled at my friends and colleagues. Anna looked as though she’d been abducted from bed. She wore a pair of tight leggings, which were filthy, trainers that seemed too big and an oversized jumper riddled with holes. Her hair was tangled and matted, her face dirty. Dinara and Feo were in similar condition, but were at least wearing proper clothes: jeans, boots, Feo a leather jacket, Dinara a thick sweater. They looked exhausted and shaken by their ordeal but they kept going, prepared to risk their lives to be by my side. I was grateful to have such loyal friends.

I took point and kept my rifle ready as we neared the command building. The first shots came when we were within yards of the entrance, careless and wide. The shooter had appeared from behind a balustrade on the roof.

I replied with a volley and was joined by all three of my colleagues. The building was old and unstable. The balustrade collapsed under the barrage, sending the shooter, who had been leaning against it, tumbling two storys down along with a mass of rubble. He landed on his head and there was a sickening crack that left him motionless.

We ran over the fallen man, picked our way through the rubble and went into the building. I recalled the dank, decrepit lobby from my previous visit and checked the doorway leading off it.

I gave the others a thumbs up to indicate it was clear. We crept slowly and carefully through the lobby in file formation, toward the wreckage of the interior doors. I remembered from my last time in the building that there was a corridor branching left and right with rooms off it to either side. The old command offices and operation rooms lay to the right.

I entered the corridor and checked left. Nothing.

And then right. Also clear.

I signaled to Anna, Feo, and Dinara and we went right, moving silently along the corridor. The floor was damp and the walls pockmarked and crumbling. The place was dimly lit by moonlight shining through the holes in the roof. I kept my scope on; the others were forced to pick their way through the gloom.

We were nearing the operations room where West had flown the drone and we’d seen Alekseyev commanding his subordinates. I slowed, held my breath and dropped to a crouch as I neared the pool of light coming through the doorway. I lifted my scope as I got to within inches of the opening and peered round one side. I could hear the electrical static, computer fans, the hum of a radio receiver... but there was no sign of anyone in the room.

Then I heard a rattle of gunfire and a scream. I turned to see Anna fall, wounded in the leg. She clutched her thigh and cried out as I ran back to her.

“Get her inside,” I said to Feo.

He took one arm and I grabbed the other. We dragged her into the operations room while Dinara laid down covering fire. Her muzzle spat fury to our left, but there was a burst of gunfire from the right and Feo was caught in the arm. He yelled a curse and dropped Anna.

I pulled her into the operations room by myself, then turned and grabbed Feo before he toppled over. He took three stumbling steps to get inside and collapsed on the floor next to Anna.

“I shouldn’t have given them such a big target,” he said with a faint smile.

“Put pressure on it,” I told him, indicating the wound in his arm.

Dinara raced through the doorway, frantic with fear.

“They’re coming!” she said. “Four of them. Two from each side.”

“Help,” Anna said weakly.

She was bleeding badly from the wound in her leg.

“She needs medical attention,” Dinara remarked, crouching beside her.

“She needs a tourniquet,” I said. “Here.”

I opened a pocket on my gear belt and produced a field first-aid kit that included a tourniquet. I gave this to Dinara.

“I’ll cover us,” I said.

She opened the kit and got to work. Anna’s skin looked pale and clammy by the white glow of the field lights in the corner of the room.

I turned to face the door and raised my rifle.

“Jack Morgan,” a Russian-accented voice said through a speaker somewhere down the corridor, “you know who this is. You have come here to die, Jack Morgan, but first you will watch me kill your people.”