Maximov grunted. ‘The man is a shit. I should have crushed his head! But at least you know he is not all- powerful, or he could have left men here to wait for you.’
‘Powerful enough,’ Nina said, worried. She shared a look with Chase, a look that betrayed their fears for Holly . . . and each other.
32
England
The New Forest covered over two hundred and twenty square miles, a national park beginning ten miles east of Bournemouth that contained some of England’s oldest heaths and pastures. But it was in one of the swathes of forest that gave the region its name that Nina and Chase now waited, Elizabeth’s car parked in a clearing. Chase had checked the area in satellite photos; the nearest house was over a mile away, the spot Mitchell had selected for the exchange as isolated as it was possible to get on the densely populated south coast.
Night had fallen. The only illumination came from the car’s headlights, casting stark shadows across the ground. Chase surveyed the trees, but couldn’t see anyone.
He knew they were not alone, though.
‘I hear something,’ said Nina, looking northwards. It took a few more seconds before Chase was able to pick it out, his hearing still not fully recovered from the pounding it took in Russia. But the whine and chatter of an approaching helicopter was unmistakable.
It came in low, a flickering light through the trees before it swept into the open, turning side-on to the car as it descended. A man leaned out of a door, directing a circular antenna at them.
‘Get rid of the gun, Eddie.’ Mitchell’s voice boomed from a speaker as the chopper hovered just above tree level. The antenna was part of a millimetre-wave radar system, showing the helicopter’s occupants exactly what Chase and Nina were carrying under their clothes. ‘And Nina, that thing in your left pocket, I assume it’s a tracker. Ditch it. Then both of you step away from the car.’
Chase tossed his pistol beside a fallen log as Nina reluctantly took out the piece of electronic gear and placed it on the car’s roof. They walked further into the clearing. Another few seconds as the man concluded his radar scan, then the helicopter touched down in a miniature hurricane of dust and leaves, the rotors still whirling at takeoff speed.
Holly stepped out fearfully, Mitchell lurking behind her. ‘Uncle Eddie!’
‘Holly, are you okay?’ Chase shouted.
‘She’s fine,’ Mitchell said. ‘Nina, walk toward me. I’ll send the girl. Careful, now.’
Nina took a step, then paused and looked back at Chase. ‘Eddie . . .’
‘I’ll find you,’ he said softly. Then, with a not entirely convincing attempt at a casual smile: ‘By the way, you doing anything next May? Maybe around the fourteenth?’
Her answering smile was entirely genuine. Loving. ‘I am now.’
‘Don’t miss it.’
‘Don’t let me.’
‘Enough with the schmaltz,’ Mitchell’s amplified voice snapped. ‘Nina, get over here, now.’
With a last glance at Chase, Nina walked towards the helicopter. Holly came the other way, desperate to break into a run. As they passed each other Nina whispered, ‘Do whatever Eddie tells you.’
She reached the helicopter and looked back. Holly had just met Chase. ‘Get in,’ Mitchell shouted from the cabin. Trying not to show her fear, Nina climbed inside. The radar operator grabbed her wrists and handcuffed them, then shoved her down beside Mitchell.
The engine noise immediately rose, the helicopter ascending. Nina stared out of the window at the two figures on the fringe of the headlight beams as they fell away. ‘Get us to the jet,’ Mitchell ordered the pilot. ‘I want the other helo fuelled and ready by the time we reach Scotland. We’ve got a lot of work to do - I want a full test of the system by tomorrow night.’
‘What about Eddie and Holly?’ Nina demanded.
‘I said I’d release Holly unharmed,’ said Mitchell with a hard expression. ‘After that . . .’
Nina’s eyes narrowed hatefully. ‘You son of a bitch.’
‘I do what I have to do.’ He sat back as the helicopter picked up speed over the dark forest.
The sniper was less than two hundred feet from Chase, but at thirty feet away he would still have been invisible, even in daylight. Draped in multi-textured layers of mottled camouflage, he blended perfectly with the scrub and bushes of the forest floor. Even his rifle looked more organic than manufactured, the brown-painted barrel and its fat suppressor wrapped in twigs to break up its shape, the telltale reflective lens of the scope concealed beneath drooping leaves.
He flicked them away, taking in the full view through the sights. The crosshairs were almost perfectly centred on Chase’s head. He raised himself higher on his elbows as he adjusted his aim and prepared to fire. Chase was moving slightly, talking to the girl, but not enough to throw off the shot.
With the helicopter gone there was hardly any wind, and at such a close range the effects of the suppressor and ballistic drop on the bullet would be negligible. He took them into account anyway, lifting the crosshairs fractionally to just above Chase’s eyeline. The bullet would hit the dead centre of his skull, and blow it apart.
After Chase, he would move on to the girl, who would be so shocked that she would be paralysed, easy prey. Two targets, two shots, two seconds.
Two deaths.
He braced himself, holding his breath to minimise the movement of his body, making the final delicate adjustments to his aim, finger caressing the trigger . . .
Firing—
As Chase ducked.
The silenced shot hissed over Chase’s head and thumped against a tree. The faint click of the sniper rifle’s action told him the direction from which the shot had come, but he already knew.
‘Jesus!’ said Peter Alderley’s tinny voice in his right ear as he threw Holly to the ground beneath him. ‘Could you leave that any later?’
Chase didn’t reply, rolling into the partial cover of the log and dragging Holly with him. ‘Stay here!’ he hissed as he grabbed his gun and crawled on his belly through the leaves and mud to the other end of the fallen trunk. If the sniper were any good - and Chase didn’t doubt it - then he would already have reloaded and be seeking to reacquire his target, surprised by his apparent precognition or not.
‘He’s still in place,’ Mac said over the earpiece. ‘Tracking left, looking for you.’
‘Wait, he’s doing something with his gun,’ Alderley added. ‘He just switched something on, maybe night vision or thermographics.’
Chase didn’t need to see the radar image the two men were viewing somewhere inside MI6’s London headquarters; he could picture it perfectly in his mind’s eye. The sniper would be lying behind cover, a log or a tree stump, somewhere with direct line of sight through the trees to the original position of his targets. He wouldn’t move unless he absolutely had to.
Which meant Chase had to
And then dead.
‘One minute to range limit,’ said Alderley. ‘Come on, Chase, nail the silly bastard, he’s just lying there!’
‘Never faced a sniper, have you?’ Chase growled as he reached the end of the log. The next available cover was behind a tree maybe ten feet away - ten feet in which he would be completely exposed. ‘Talk to me, what’s he doing?’
‘Switching aim between each end of the log,’ Mac told him. ‘Waiting for one of you to move.’
‘Which end’s he aiming at now?’
