The Hunt

64

Ustanov pulled the trigger to unleash the killer burst. All he got from the sub-machine gun was a dead man’s click. Either his weapon had misfired, or it wasn’t functioning properly; more likely the latter, after being hit by Jaeger’s round.

For a few seconds he fought to get his weapon operational, before throwing it to one side and reaching behind him, groping for the pistol that he would have holstered in the small of his back.

But Jaeger was closing the range fast. He thundered on, and from somewhere in the pit of his stomach came a scream of primeval range as he bore down on his adversary.

This was the man who’d thrown several of Jaeger’s friends from a helicopter’s open doorway, during their Amazon expedition, in an effort to get him to surrender. The man who had bound, beaten and abused Leticia Santos and tortured Jaeger with images of her suffering.

As Ustanov whipped his pistol around to his front, Jaeger dropped to one knee with the P228 in the aim. From thirty feet he opened fire, pumping seven rounds into the target in under three seconds.

Ustanov slumped forward and lay still, the pistol still gripped in his hands.

Jaeger closed the final yards, keeping the figure covered. He came to a halt. From close range it was clear that it was indeed Ustanov, but also that he was very, very dead. The man was a mess. No one could have survived the kind of barrage that Jaeger had unleashed.

He reached down and prised the pistol from his grip. It was a Chinese QSZ-92 – the ‘Type 92 Handgun’ used by the People’s Liberation Army. Fitted with a dual-stack magazine, it carried fifteen standard 9mm rounds, or twenty of the smaller armour-piercing variant. In short, it was a good weapon that packed more bullets than Jaeger’s Sig, with its thirteen rounds.

Jaeger was glad this hadn’t turned into a prolonged pistol duel.

He felt an outburst of raw emotion. It washed over him, taking him by surprise. An explosion of power and energy surged through him: hatred, relief, adrenalin and, strangely, pleasure.

Soldiers did experience such emotions in combat. Jaeger had seen it enough times to know it was simply a part of human instinct. A sudden release of endorphins that flooded through the system, resulting in a feeling of euphoria that was clearly at odds with the brutality of killing.

But he’d also witnessed the ensuing guilt that soldiers sometimes experienced. Killing wasn’t meant to feel good. Soldiering was a job, and this was just the sharp end of what could be a very brutal profession.

Jaeger didn’t try and fight the emotions. Up here, in the midst of this wilderness, alone, alive, he let it pour out of him. ‘Screw you, Ustanov and screw you, Kammler,’ he yelled. ‘I’m coming for you. I am coming for you all.’

His body was shaking with adrenalin. He tried to compose himself and focus. Deep breaths. In and out. He closed his eyes. Slow it down, buddy. Slow it down.

With Kammler’s hunter force eliminated, he needed to focus on the task in hand – getting back to the OP and finishing the job they’d come here for.

He checked the magazine of the QSZ-92. It was full. He tucked it into the rear of his waistband. Always good to have a backup backup weapon. He ran a practised eye over the dead man’s machine gun. The mechanism was ruined, bent and buckled where Jaeger’s shot had ploughed into it.

Then he turned back to the bloodied corpse and began to search it.

Tucked into an inner breast pocket, he discovered an Iridium satphone. It was a top-of-the-range Extreme 9575 – a compact, reliable and durable piece of kit. The only country that couldn’t get an Iridium signal was North Korea, due to US trade sanctions. Across China there was blanket coverage.

On the spur of the moment, Jaeger powered it up. After a few seconds, a message icon popped onto the screen. There was no ping, so Ustanov must have it set to silent mode.

Jaeger opened the message: SITREP please. And it better be positive. K.

He paused for a moment, his mind and heart whirring.

K.

Hank Kammler.