The Ghost Pattern

…47

Alex watched the vast expanse of forested Russian territory draw closer, as the Phenom started its descent.

“All right, guys, this is it,” Lou said. “We’ll touch down in a few minutes. We all know what to do. Lock ’em, load ’em, and get ready.”

The Phenom landed smoothly on a poorly maintained runway, then taxied slowly to the end of the terminal.

As soon as the plane slowed down, they all snapped out of their seat belts and closed the window blinds on both sides.

“I’ll go get us a hangar somewhere,” Blake said, grabbing a wad of cash from the duffel bag. “US dollars still work here?”

“Better than ever,” Sam replied, grabbing a fistful of hundred-dollar bills for himself and shoving them in his pocket. “I’ll go get us a car; we’re some 45 miles away from the hangar coordinates. We need transpo.”

“How on earth are you gonna get a car?” Blake asked. “This place doesn’t look like it has Enterprise.”

“Ah… the old spy way,” Sam winked, then opened the aircraft door and hopped off in a couple of steps. Blake followed.

“Let’s gear up,” Lou said. “Start with the vest first, just like I showed you.”

“Yes, boss,” she replied, unable to contain a tension-loaded smile.

She strapped her tactical vest on. It was black, rigid, and had a lot of pockets, making her look bulky. She felt her abdomen through the harsh fabric, then traced her waistline and her hips, barely noticeable under the tactical vest. She groaned.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Lou said humorously. “Really?”

“Hey, a girl’s gotta be careful about how she looks, all right?” she replied. “G.I. Jane wasn’t exactly sexy, you know.” A nervous chuckle showed her real state of mind.

“No, but she was effective, deadly. And so are you. You’ll do fine,” Lou added, softening his voice. “Trust me.”

“Yeah,” she replied, still tense.

Oh, boy… Her first real gunfight, behind enemy lines no less. Yet it was more than just pre-battle jitters that kept her on her toes and put tension in her heart. She just wanted to know if she’d been right. Would they find the missing plane? Would they find Adeline and the passengers? Most of all, would she find V? Would she be proven wrong about V’s involvement in this? Or right? She had no evidence, no real reason to suspect a connection, but she believed there was one. She believed that with all her heart. She just had to find it, then she’d learn V’s identity and finally nail the brilliant, evil son of a bitch.

She checked her Walther’s ammo clip before putting it back in its holster. Then she strapped the tactical knife’s holster to her thigh, and loaded her pockets with the gear Lou was handing her, verifying each item as she took possession of it.

Radio equipment with ear buds and laryngophone, twenty-five-mile range, connected with the cellphone, encrypted, checked, turned on.

Handheld GPS, on.

Sat phone, working, full battery, on.

Battery life extender, full.

Three ammo clips for the Walther PPK.

Night-vision goggles, battery full, turned off.

Three ammo clips for the Tavor, going in her cargo pants side pockets.

Two small grenades.

One smoke pop.

A first-aid kit.

A food ration.

“Lou, I can barely move!” she whined, taking a few steps, trying to see how everything felt as she paced the aircraft’s narrow aisle.

“Get used to it,” he replied dryly, as he finished loading his gear. “You’ll need all this stuff.”

Blake hopped back on the plane, then instructed his pilot where to go.

“We got us hangar space, discreet and off the record,” Blake said proudly. “They think I’m here to see my mistress, and I have to keep my visit a secret.”

“Hey, whatever works, my man,” Lou replied, extending a high five to Blake. “Gear up!”

Alex noticed Blake spoke with the same nervous chuckle in his voice that she had. They were all nervous, all looking forward to see what they would find. Excited, yet afraid at the same time. Would they find the plane where DigiWorld had said? How about the people, how would they find them? How about Adeline, was she still alive? She didn’t even stop for a minute to worry about her own safety, or what would happen if the Russians captured them; that concern didn’t even register with her. However, they all felt the tension, the anticipation anxiety, and the excitement, what Lou called the pre-battle high.

The aircraft resumed a slow-speed taxi and soon entered a small, decrepit hangar, lit poorly by a single, yellowish light bulb hanging from the rusted ceiling.

A few minutes later, the sound of a car engine got their attention. Sam hopped out of a dirty, dark brown SUV, bearing an unknown logo, and pointed cheerfully at the vehicle.

“Ta-da! How do you like it? It’s a Vaz, the best I could do under the circumstances. Let’s get going,” he said.

Alex stopped at the top of the aircraft’s steps to take a deep breath. Hot, humid air, buzzing with tiny insects and mosquitoes. The slight smell of jet exhaust and a more pervasive smell of bog water. So this is Russia, she thought, hopping down two steps at a time and climbing in the front passenger seat of the SUV.

Sam climbed aboard the Phenom and reappeared within two minutes, wearing all his tactical gear. He took the driver’s seat and started the engine. Blake seemed at ease, handling his weapon comfortably, as if he did nothing else all day long. Lou was the last to join them, carrying a small duffel bag that he put in the trunk of the Vaz.

“Some more ammo, explosives, and other stuff,” he explained, seeing the inquisitive look Alex threw his way.

“Coordinates set,” Sam said, grinding the gears a little when shifting the manual transmission. “We should get there in less than an hour.”

They drove silently for a while; there was little left to say. Alex watched the forested landscape, finding she somewhat enjoyed the drive. If the circumstances were different, I would probably even like it, she thought — curving, single-lane road stretching for miles in the thick, lush forest, small lakes here and there, sunny, warm, and peaceful atmosphere. How deceiving appearances can be… If we’re right about this, 441 people are going through hell somewhere in the middle of this beautiful, deceivingly serene forest.

“All right, guys, this is where we leave the car and start walking,” Sam said.

“How long?” Alex asked.

“About three miles that way,” he replied, pointing in a direction perpendicular to the road.

“Through the swamp?” Alex protested. “Are you sure?”

“He’s sure,” Lou confirmed. “This is what the GPS is telling us. Keep in mind an airbase would be hidden, not really a freeway stop, you know.”

“I get it, but it would still have a road that leads to it, right?”

“And this one has a road too, only it doesn’t start from here. Trust me, walking is our best shot. We should be there within the hour. By foot, no one will hear us coming. We’re assuming the place is guarded.”

“OK, I got it,” she said. “Get the car out of sight. We shouldn’t raise suspicions.”

Sam smiled. “Sure. Told ya’, you’re a natural.”

They walked with difficulty, their boots sinking in the mud every few steps. They trailed single file, Lou leading the pack, and Alex found she was grateful for the Army boots Lou had provided.

Suddenly, Lou stopped, lifting his right arm with his fist clenched, military code for “stop.” They froze in their tracks and waited, listening and looking around them. Then Lou pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then pointed them in the direction of what looked like a grassy hill or mound.

Yes, that was it! It looked just like the satellite images they’d seen on the DigiWorld screens, a metallic structure buried in the side of a hill. The structure was large, at least 250 feet wide by at least 100 feet tall, and had huge doors, big enough to allow a 747 to enter the structure. An old road, overtaken by weeds growing out of every one of its cracks and potholes led to its door, extended in the opposite direction as far as they could see. If they followed that road, they’d probably find an airstrip at the end of it somewhere. She checked her GPS and confirmed her theory. There was an airstrip at the end of that road, a 2.5-mile long airstrip. A little short for a 747 landing… a short, tight, maybe even rough, yet doable landing.

Two armed men guarded the structure leisurely, leaning against a tree trunk, smoking and chatting. Their Kalashnikovs hung on their shoulders by their straps. Fuck, Alex thought, this could get ugly. Who knows how many more Russians could be inside that hangar.

Lou signaled Sam, and they engaged in a quick exchange in military sign language. Still hidden by the thick forest brush, and watching every step they made, they approached the two guards silently, unseen and unheard.

They fell behind them and swiftly Sam stabbed one guard in the neck, while Lou grabbed the other one in a tight chokehold, then broke his neck with a quick side twist. They grabbed their weapons and checked the surroundings quickly, then gave Blake and Alex the signal to approach.

Close together, keeping a low profile, they approached the small entrance in the hangar, a side door almost completely covered in rust. Sam opened it slowly, and then followed Lou inside. A few seconds later, they cleared Alex and Blake to come in.

They entered the hangar and Alex gasped. A wave of excitement resonated through her entire body. They’d found it! Above her head, the tail of a huge 747 extended all the way to the doors, almost touching them. In the dim light coming from the open door, the plane looked surreal.

They continued to walk quietly, carefully listening and watching. Not a sound coming from anywhere. Except for the huge plane, the hangar was completely deserted.

“Oh, no…” Blake exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” Alex whispered.

“It’s not her plane,” Blake said with desperation in his voice. “This one has no markings. All Universal Air flights have the XA logo on their tails.”

She looked at the tail, rising eight stories high in the air, and wondered why she’d missed that. She wanted it to be the XA233 so badly, that she didn’t see the evidence in front of her.

She stared intently at the disappointingly white tail, scrutinizing it inch by inch, looking for some detail, some hint. Then she grabbed her LED flashlight and scanned the white tail again, squinting.

“Wait a second… there!” she exclaimed, pointing the flashlight at a certain spot on the plane’s tail. “Blake, what do you see?”

Sam and Lou lit their flashlights and pointed them at the same area.

“See?” Alex said. “They peeled off the logo and markings, but there’s a trace left, where the paint was dulled by the adhesive material of the logo. The curvy X? You see?”

Blake nodded, unable to speak for a few seconds, choked, while tears pooled in his eyes.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I know she’s alive!”

Alex grinned widely and side-hugged him, not taking her eyes from the markings on the plane’s white tail. They were right; they had a chance.

“Now let’s find her,” she said, walking briskly toward the aircraft door, still fitted with mobile stairs. Let’s see what we can find inside, maybe there’s something we can use.

“Right,” Lou said, and joined her.

As she walked past the huge landing gear, she looked up, intrigued to see it up close. She’d never been so close to a commercial airliner before. She slowed her pace a little, observing the double sets of wheels, the shock absorbers, the gear mechanism. Deep inside the gear compartment, a red glint caught the corner of her eye as she turned to leave.

She froze. Feeling her blood instantly turn to ice, she looked up, searching for the source of the elusive red glint, the eerily familiar flicker. Then she found it. A timer, counting down, with only nine seconds left to go.

“Oh, shit,” she said, then screamed from the bottom of her lungs, “run! Run!”

She ran as fast as she could, her tactical vest and all her gear rattling on her and slowing her down. Everyone ran without looking back, following her lead. They exited the hangar running, but she didn’t stop there. She continued toward the forest line, running as fast as she could.

The sound of the explosion reached them first, and then, within milliseconds, the shockwave hit them hard, smashing them to the ground and covering them with smoldering debris.