The Hunt

91

Narov left the command cell, making her way towards the kitchen area, where the injured were being treated. Raff had got the generator working, so at least they had power and light.

As she stepped through the mess left by Jones and Jaeger – the blood and detritus from their savage close-quarters battle – her eye caught the glint of a half-obscured blade. Her heart missed a beat.

It was instantly recognisable.

She bent and retrieved it. This dagger meant the world to her.

It had once belonged to Brigadier Edward ‘Ted’ Jaeger, SAS war hero and founder of the Secret Hunters, the man who had helped rescue Narov’s grandmother from the World War II concentration camp.

Ted Jaeger had been a man of true compassion: when he’d learnt that Sonia Olchanevsky was pregnant as a result of rape, he had offered to be the unborn child’s godparent. He had been Narov’s mother’s godfather, and he had treated Narov herself as if she were his own niece.

It was from Ted Jaeger that she had first heard of her family’s dark history, and had first been drawn into the work of the Secret Hunters. When she had met Will Jaeger, she’d wondered whether he could ever be worthy of his grandfather’s legacy.

Now, as she moved towards the kitchen, she knew in her heart that he most certainly was.

After their battles here in Kammler’s lair, she had to admit it: Jaeger had the Secret Hunter spirit in spades. She also knew that without him they would never have got Kammler.

The plan in the Amazon to switch the aircraft’s cargo: that had been Jaeger’s brainchild. The tungsten bomb – their Trojan horse – his inspiration again. Plus blowing the pipelines, a touch of true Jaeger genius.

She looked the bloodstained dagger over. It would need a good clean, she thought. But it was home. At last.

She stepped through into the kitchen, seeking out Raff and Alonzo. They were crouched over Jaeger’s barely conscious form. She could see where they had cut the combat trousers off him and slapped a tourniquet on his right leg.

‘How is he?’ she asked tightly.

Raff shrugged. ‘You know how he is. Soft as shit. He’ll pull through.’

The humour: it had to mean that the worst was over.

‘And the others?’

‘Miles is unconscious but stable,’ Raff explained. ‘With some proper medical attention he should be okay. And Falk will be fine.’ He paused. ‘We lost Hing, but assuming you got Brooks to rustle up the medevac, the rest should be good.’

‘He promised. I’ll chase him.’

Narov turned and left the room. She could only get satphone reception from the command cell. As she made her way down the corridor, her mind wandered. Hunting Kammler had been her life’s mission. But now his life had been snuffed out, that dark evil extinguished, and the debt she owed to her grandmother had been repaid.

So what was to be her life’s work now?

What mission was there that could draw her close to Jaeger, as their work in the Secret Hunters had done? She didn’t know, but she lived in hope. As the brigadier had often told her: life rewards the persistent. It was a dream that she would nurture.

She dialled Brooks’s number, and he reassured her that a medevac team had been scrambled. It should be no more than twenty minutes away. ‘And the vehicle?’ she queried. ‘The getaway car? Jones and his… sidekick?’

‘Found,’ Brooks confirmed.

Narov felt her pulse quicken. ‘And? How are you tracking it? What are you intending? Whose take-down is it – ours or the Chinese?’

‘I can’t say,’ Brooks demurred. ‘That’s beyond highly classified. But what I can tell you is this: I’m eyes on a video feed of that vehicle, even as we speak.’ Brooks paused. ‘I can patch you in, if you have a screen handy and a broadband connection running.’

As it happened, Narov had. With Falk’s help she’d managed to log onto the base’s wireless connection. She passed Brooks the details and a grainy image flashed up on a nearby screen. It showed a Great Wall Haval H6, a Chinese manufactured 4x4 that was hugely popular in the country, speeding along a frozen track that snaked through a grey-walled gorge.

‘Thermal imaging reveals four individuals aboard,’ Brooks remarked. ‘So along with Ruth Jaeger and Steve Jones, we have two other escapees. Don’t suppose you have any idea who they might be?’

‘None.’

As the powerful 4x4 took a series of sharp bends, it slewed alarmingly, spraying snow and dirt from its wheels.

‘Notice the less-than-impressive handling,’ Brooks added. ‘No fault of the vehicle. See how low it sits on its springs. We figure it’s armoured, and whoever’s at the wheel isn’t used to how the extra weight affects the cornering.’ Brooks paused. ‘But armour or no armour, it won’t help those aboard much with what’s coming.’

‘Which is?’

‘Put it this way: they could be riding in an Abrams main battle tank, and they’d still not stand a hope in hell of surviving.’

At last, Narov told herself.

‘As it happens, the… termination is due about any time now,’ Brooks added. ‘Keep your eyes on the prize…’

The seconds ticked by as Narov studied the screen closely. She could barely stand the wait. It was like watching some kind of computer game – not that Narov was in the habit of doing so much. With those who truly deserved it she preferred hunting – and killing – for real. Just like now.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, which whited-out whatever observation platform Brooks was using to track the vehicle. As the image adjusted, and pulled back into focus, Narov could see shattered chunks of smoking debris scattered across a wide swathe of the gorge.

She didn’t have a clue what asset – what weapon – Brooks had deployed in the strike, but whatever it was, the 4x4 had been totally obliterated. Shredded into blasted, fiery ruin. And whoever had been riding in it had been vaporised along with the vehicle.

Narov smiled. At last: Steve Jones and Ruth Jaeger – good riddance to the both of them.