“Our mutual friend, Yuri Vostov, sends his regards,” said the man in the brown UPS outfit.
Nick Roma’s eyes widened in surprise and sudden understanding — an understanding that came too late.
“Wait—”
But Boris didn’t wait. He put two shots directly into Nick’s head, the first right between the eyes, the second — a difficult shot with the head still moving from the first impact — slightly higher. Unscrewing the hot, spent silencer from the barrel of his pistol, he screwed a new one in place, slipped in a new clip, and turned toward the fire exit. He paused only once on his way out, to toss a quick smile and a jaunty wave at the mirror, and then he fled the office.
FORTY-TWO
The American compound rose up out of the darkness like a silent fortress, but its air of solidness and protection was a mere illusion. There were ten buildings, none of them more than two stories tall, and a concrete wall running around the perimeter. Gregor knew there were infrared beams and sensors running along the top of the wall that would sound an alarm if anyone breached their security. He also knew those infrared beams and sensors were going to do those inside no good at all.
There was one gate in the wall nearest them. Wide enough to permit two trucks to pass through at the same time, the reinforced metal gates swung open past small guard booths mounted on either side.
A typical American setup, Gregor thought. Within, there would be only a handful of poorly armed security guards, and maybe a score or two of technicians. None of them would be a match for him and his team.
As planned, the four BTR-40s came to a halt fifty yards from the metal gates, well beyond the perimeter of light cast by the spots set along the wall. Their headlights were already off, and all the team members had their night vision goggles in place.
Gregor looked over at Nikita. “Get ready, Nikki,” he said.
She looked at him silently for a moment and then nodded. Climbing onto the back of the armored personnel carrier, she went to the M-38 82mm mortar bolted to the floor and made her final sighting adjustments.
She waited a moment longer, giving the passengers of the other three BTR-40s time to get ready, and then fired off the first of her rounds. An instant later, three rocket-propelled grenades arced through the night, streaking toward the metal gate.
Nikki didn’t stay around to watch. As soon as she fired, she dove back into the already moving vehicle, plucking an RPG for herself from the back as she did so.
The peace and stillness of the quiet night erupted in sudden death and destruction. One grenade impacted directly on the metal gates, blasting them off their hinges and flinging them farther into the compound. Two other grenades hit the two guard shacks, cutting off any communication and killing the guards within. Nikita, however, hadn’t aimed at the gate or the guard shacks. She’d had a trickier shot, lifting her mortar shell high above the wall and dropping it directly onto the roof of the building that housed the generator. It was their only shot at taking out the Americans’ communications completely — and even though Gregor knew the Americans had no one to call, still he believed in taking no unnecessary chances.
Nikki’s shot was perfect. Gregor smiled to himself and, closing the fifty yards quickly, he plunged through the debris left behind by the grenades, ignoring whatever damage he might be doing to his tires and the underside of his carrier. His team had already identified the motor pool inside the compound. They planned to leave that untouched, except for any personnel who might be working or hiding in there, and if their own vehicles were damaged they would simply ride out on stolen Jeeps once their mission was accomplished.
The personnel carriers went through the gates single file, Gregor in the lead, then Gilea’s four men in the next two, and the last members of his personal team in the final vehicle. Once inside, each of the four veered off, heading to their preplanned corners of the compound. When they were all in position, they turned and started heading toward the building in the center — the low, concrete building with the satellite uplink equipment mounted on the roof — firing as they went.
There was no resistance. Gregor hadn’t expected much, but he’d expected more than the Americans managed. A couple of security guards were cut down early, caught out in the open with confusion on their faces and fear in their eyes, but beyond those two it appeared that all the remaining personnel were holed up in their prefab apartment buildings, keeping their heads down and hoping to just survive this onslaught.
Unfortunately for them, Gregor’s orders were to the contrary.
As they passed each building, Gregor’s team sent a grenade into the doorway, causing additional destruction and sealing the survivors within. His mission priority was the satellite uplink building. Once that was destroyed, he would be able to devote his full attention to the rest of the compound.
The only building that slowed Gregor down at all was the one where the Americans kept their small supply of firearms. Two of his BTR-40s converged on that building and paused long enough to level it with grenades. Then, turning down the sensitivity on his night vision goggles, Gregor Sadov resumed his methodical advance toward the command and control section of the compound.
Max Blackburn was on the phone with Alan Jacobs, the head of security at the compound, when the link went dead. Max and his team had been out following leads and were on their way back to the compound. Alan had called him the moment the power went out. No one really suspected there was anything devious or deliberate about the power outage, but standard protocol was to maintain an open line until the problem was identified and solved. Blackburn and his security detail were on their way back to the compound already — except for Vince Scull who had stayed behind to check on a few loose ends — but when the call came in he’d told his driver to speed up a bit.
Max did not hang up when the phone went dead against his ear. Instead, he kept the line open and turned to Meg. They were in the back of a covered truck, the kind used to haul produce from small local farms into the nearby towns for sale, bouncing along on the local equivalent of a road.
“Call in,” he said to her, giving her Jacob’s direct dial.
“Trouble?” she asked, already punching in the number. Standard protocol was to not record any numbers in speed dial, and to always clear the last number in redial memory after completing a call.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”
Meg pressed Send and then lifted the phone to her ear. “It’s ringing,” she said after a moment.
Max leaned forward. “Step on it,” he said to the driver.
Meg looked at him, a quizzical expression on her face. Blackburn hadn’t even waited for anyone to answer before reacting.
“There’s trouble,” Max said. “You should have gotten a busy signal. The fact that you didn’t means that the primary phone lines are down.” Turning his head, he called back to Lee “Seal” Johnson, the team’s radio expert. “Use the TAC-Sat,” he said. “I want satellite communication established with the compound, and I want it now. Something’s happening there, and I need to know what it is.”
“It’s no good, sir,” Johnson said after a moment. “The satellite’s responding, but the ground station isn’t.”
Blackburn nodded, his lips pressed into a grim line. “How long until we get back there?”
“Ten minutes, sir,” the driver said.
Blackburn shook his head. He knew all too well just how long ten minutes could be in a firefight. “Make it five,” he said.
“But, sir. The axles won’t take—”
“I don’t give a damn about the axles,” he snapped, “or the ruts in the road. I care about the people who are being attacked back at that compound, and who are relying on us to protect them — which we can’t do from here. Get us back there in five minutes. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver said. “Five minutes.”
Blackburn nodded, then turned away and began issuing orders to his team. They had five minutes to get ready, five minutes to prepare for a battle against an unknown adversary, against unknown numbers and unknown
