Blackburn tried to turn his head just enough to locate the M4. Dima followed his gaze.
‘40 mm. It’s a risk. You’ll have to trust my aim.’
They looked at each other. There was no guarantee the others would find him now. He’d turned off his radio. And if they did, more of the bunker might come down if they tried to blast their way in. Blackburn didn’t have any choices left. This Russian was his only hope.
‘What do I call you?’
‘Dima Mayakovsky.’
‘Okay then, Dima.’
‘Before I do it, I’m going to pack some rubble around you to stop the beam dropping on you when it fragments.’
Whatever air conditioning had been ventilating the bunker had stopped a good while before. It was getting hotter and stickier, but Dima worked fast, sweat pouring off him as he shored up the beam. Then he picked up the M4.
‘Okay. This is the bit where you really do have to trust me.’
Dima crouched down close to Blackburn, shielding him with his body as he positioned the weapon.
‘Close your eyes. There may be some dust.’
He aimed the M4 and fired twice into the concrete.
Nothing happened. Dima emptied two more into the slab. Half the beam lurched. Before it could move any further Dima slid his arms through Blackburn’s and hauled him out, then sat him on the edge of the shattered beam. Several seconds passed while they both caught their breath. Blackburn tried to stand. He could. He moved his arms. No serious damage. Elated, he looked round at the rubble-strewn bunker. His eye fell on the Uzi where Dima had put it down to lift him. It was inches away from his hand. Dima saw it too, looked at Blackburn. Blackburn looked at it and back at Dima.
‘You are for real.’
‘As much as any of us is,’ Dima smiled. Blackburn looked like a man who’d just been given his life back.
‘We need to get out of here before anymore of it comes down.’
Dima put the M4 in Blackburn’s hands.
‘A soldier should never become separated from his weapon.’
Dima’s brain was in overdrive. Processing the implications of what Blackburn had told him had set it racing. Solomon — back to haunt him, bent on vengeance. Beheading American soldiers, a personal nuclear arsenal, the maps Blackburn described, and Kaffarov’s words,
It all added up for Dima. He knew what Solomon was capable of. Blackburn had seen it for himself. He looked at the young American, full of sincerity. Blackburn’s righteous indignation at what he had seen, his mission to right the wrong. Easy to be cynical about his sense of purpose, in a world of Solomons and Kaffarovs, where loyalties were bought and sold to the highest bidder, where money, power and vengeance were the prime motivations. He was trying to plot a way forward when another explosive thud came from near the door, followed by a fresh cloud of dust. Through it came a torch beam. They were no longer alone.
52
The Lieutenant was in a rage: that much was clear.
‘Congratulations, Blackburn. You found your man. Glad to see you got your priorities right.’
Blackburn said nothing.
‘Campo and Montes figured you must be dead since there’s at least two buried in the rubble out there.’
The news hit Dima like another explosion. Zirak and Gregorin. .
Cole glared at Dima.
‘So: the executioner. You’ve made quite a name for yourself.’
Dima didn’t respond. When in doubt do absolutely nothing, just think fast and watch hard. The Uzi was half a metre from his foot. He tried to read the Lieutenant: earnest, well-bred, committed, he guessed, here because he wanted to be. In for the long haul. But with something else going on. It was all in Blackburn’s intriguing reaction to his superior officer, as if being rescued by him was the last thing in the world he wanted right now.
Cole stepped closer, eyeing Dima.
‘As good a place as any to end this.’
Blackburn said nothing. The dust had turned his face to a mask. A very unpleasant thought started forming in Dima’s mind.
‘Say, Blackburn. It looks pretty unstable in here. Should get ourselves out before it caves.’
‘Sir,’ said Blackburn. But he made no move. The M4 felt like a betrayal in his hands.
‘You’re very quiet, Blackburn. Guess I know what you’re thinking: now’s your chance. Well soldier, you’ve earned it. You go right ahead. Do what you have to do. Your secret’ll be safe with me.’
I can’t believe this is happening, thought Dima, realising what Cole was intimating. He glanced at the Uzi.
Cole stepped up to Blackburn and shouted in his ear.
‘Hey Blackburn, you hearing me? I’m giving you a chance.’
What a cunt, thought Dima.
Blackburn was frozen to the spot, his M4 now drooping in his hands. In front of him, two men, his CO and his tormentor, telling him to kill the stranger who had just saved his life. And if this man was right about Solomon. . What happened next took less than a second, but it was a very packed less than a second. Dima, his reflexes taking over, sprang towards the Uzi. Cole, having concluded that Blackburn didn’t have the stomach for it, took aim at Dima. But the weapon that went off wasn’t Cole’s. And the man that went down wasn’t Dima. The shot seemed to fill the whole bunker. Cole’s expression became one of exaggerated surprise as he sank to his knees, moving through dismay, to indignation, and finally to horror.
He stayed upright for a few more agonising seconds, then his eyes glazed and he slumped forward on to the rubble.
Dima, Uzi in hand, wheeled round to face Blackburn. He had seen that look before: Gregorin describing the elimination of his bullying comrade — a certain serenity that follows particularly sweet revenge. He shook his head as if he still didn’t quite believe it. But there was no question, the young American looked as though a great weight had just been lifted from him.
Dima stepped forward and grasped his saviour by the shoulder.
‘Thank you, comrade. I think we’re quits.’
53
Dima had no idea how they were going to get out of the bunker. In the two hours he had been in there, he had faced Yang, then Kaffarov, followed by Blackburn and Cole. And he had heard about Solomon. Survival was what concentrated his mind now. Escape — he didn’t want to tempt providence by even considering it. But with the US Marines outside wondering about the fate of first Blackburn and now Cole, it was only a matter of time before another of them tried to make an entrance. That or another beam smashing down and crushing them to death.
Blackburn was ahead of him.
‘I’ve seen plans to this place. There was some kind of shaft running out through the rear of the bunker. It exits the other side of the mountain. If we can find the entrance.’
Together they made their way over the rubble and broken beams. Through a small antechamber they found a metal door similar to the one concealed behind the panelling in the chalet. Although it wasn’t locked, it looked as though it hadn’t been used in a long time. Blackburn pointed his torch into the darkness.
‘Guess this is it.’
Dima half expected Blackburn to bid him farewell and return to his comrades. But Blackburn hadn’t worked out a plan either. He took off his helmet and wiped his forehead. He was drenched in sweat, which was now forming up into drops on his chin and the end of his nose. His mind was spinning.
‘What just happened. . I don’t know. .’
The energy seemed to be running out of him as fast as the sweat. Dima felt for him. He could go back the way he came in, put a good story together, maybe chuck a grenade into the bunker as he left: he had a good chance of picking up right where he was. Cole would be MIA. But they both knew that the Marine Corps would do its
