recognized as Manoj Chopra. He used a finger gesture to widen the data box and watch as Voeckler confronted the figure, who turned out to be Hussein.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” said the Splinter Cell.
“I know,” answered the boy, his accent distinctly British. “Where are you taking me?”
“Someplace safe.”
“What about him?”
“We’ll come back when we can. Later…”
“Get him through the Silver Tower,” Brent ordered. “I’m charging both of you with keeping him safe. That’s royalty right there. Do you guys read me?”
“Yes, sir,” said Voeckler.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” added Schleck. “This kid’s got the best bodyguards in town. Moving out now.”
“Brent, it’s Juma! The choppers are backing off and the BTRs are coming out! Four of them now, turning up toward the highway. Still small-arms fire from a few stragglers, but they’re getting away.”
“Schleck, did she load the gold onto the BTRs?” Brent asked the sniper.
“Sir, I’m not sure. She’s still got the three cargo trucks, but I’m trying to pinpoint their locations.”
“Brent, it’s Juma again. One of my teams up near the airport says a cargo plane just touched down. It’s military, unmarked.”
“She’s got the gold in the BTRs, and they’re heading to the airport. Everyone, turn around, we’re getting the hell out of here! We need to get back up top! Voeckler, is
“Negative, sir.”
Brent cursed. “Lakota, still no uplink?”
“Nothing. I’ve got a loop set to alert us the second we break the jamming.”
“Brent, some of the Euro armor is now moving in behind the BTRs, escorting them, and they’ve got the choppers covering by air. That has to be her.”
“Juma, what do you have in between here and the airport? Anything that can stop her?”
“I’m sorry, Brent.”
“Can your guys at the airport at least attack the plane?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
A new window opened in Brent’s HUD: His laser-based radar system (LADAR) had detected movement behind them, about a thousand meters back. The image revealed three contacts growing more distinct: the cargo trucks. Whatever people she’d left behind were probably making their escape as well.
Not five seconds later they came under heavy small-arms fire as headlights wiped into view and reached up the tunnel toward them.
Lakota screamed to take cover.
Brent threw himself toward the wall, dropping down and rolling back up with his rifle to fire on the lead vehicle as it roared by with a man hanging out the cab window and firing a steady stream.
The second truck roared by, and Brent ordered the others to hold fire—
He was blinded for a moment by the truck’s headlights, and then his mouth fell open.
He’d just caught a glimpse of the third truck’s driver. She might be wearing a suit and helmet, but he recognized those eyes. He’d studied them for too many hours.
Perhaps the gold was being shipped out on the BTRs, but Viktoria Antsyforov, the Snow Maiden, had another escape route in mind.
“Get on!” he screamed.
He and Lakota raced behind the last truck and launched themselves into the air, groping futilely for some purchase. They both tumbled to the ground as the exhaust washed over them.
Lakota rolled up with a grenade, about to throw it, when Brent looked down and saw them.
Four more grenades rolling toward them like baseballs, lobbed by the men in the trucks.
It was all he could do to turn around and throw himself back when the explosions tore through the tunnel, and the blast wave lifted him from the ground.
Chen Yi’s men had not reported any more Americans in the tunnel, and the Snow Maiden had felt the breath escape her as they roared by. That Haussler’s Spetsnaz troops had dropped a handful of grenades before the Americans could throw theirs was just luck, and as the booms echoed and explosions flickered in her side mirror, she called up to Haussler and told him how lucky they were.
As they reached the uppermost level, he reported that all three exits had been sealed off by explosions and debris, and only one path was available; it would no doubt be defended.
“Call off one of the choppers,” she told him. “Wait, no. Don’t do that. Just blast on through.”
“Are you sure? One of my lieutenants says two squads outside. Looks like only small arms, but we will take a lot of fire, maybe an RPG.”
“You’re right. Stop here. Call the chopper. Put some fire on those guys outside. Clear us a path.”
He pulled to a screeching halt, as did the truck behind him. They were at the far end of the garage, ground level, and out in the darkness she saw the shadows move — militiamen waiting for them. . or maybe even Green Brigade.
She glanced over at the Spetsnaz troop sitting beside her, a young, lean, dark-haired man with seemingly vacant eyes. “Where are you from?” she asked him in Russian.
He just frowned at her.
“Do I offend you?”
“We know who you are. You betrayed your country. Our job was to bring you in. Haussler has other plans. My orders are to follow him. So I do. But I do not have to like it, nor do I have to talk to you.”
“Get out.”
He looked at her.
“I said,
He opened the door, climbed out, jogged to the next truck, and was let inside.
“Okay, three more minutes,” Haussler finally said.
“Tell that pilot to hurry up!”
When Brent finally looked up, he saw most of his team lying on the concrete floor. Copeland was already tending to Daugherty and Heston, who’d been nearest to the blasts, their helmets scorched, shrapnel jutting from all over their suits. Noboru and Park were assisting him, but they too looked dazed, covered in shrapnel, some of which had clearly penetrated the more vulnerable sections of their suits.
“Brent, I’ll stay down here with them,” said Lakota. “That was her, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he gasped.
“Then you have to go after her. We’ll link up with Schleck and Voeckler.”
He nodded, “Juma, she’s coming your way! Three trucks!”
“I know, I know,” cried the warlord. “But here comes the chopper!”
Even as he spoke, Brent heard the powerful whomping in the background. Then gunfire. Explosions. Screams.
“Lakota, Copeland will stay with them. You come with me.”
She shrugged.
“I need you, girl.”
“We’re hurting, Brent. We’re hurting real bad. I don’t know if there’s anything else we can do.”
“There’s one thing,” he said. “We can try. Not give up. Not yet. Come on.”
They sprinted through the lingering smoke, rounded the next corner, then raced through the next leg of the tunnel, heading up to the deepest level of the parking garage. Somewhere above came the hum of idling engines.
Lakota slowed, stopped, then raised a finger to the ceiling. “Listen. They’ve stopped.”
He did. Nodded. Then urged her on, just as Juma’s voice broke over the channel. “My squads are dying out here, Brent. We have to pull out. Here come the trucks. They’re coming now!”
