Echo Six: Black Ops 4 - Chechen Massacre (16 page)

Yuri has arrived!

For many of the weary defenders, it was too much; the nightmare of being attacked from both sides after the hell of the journey across Siberia in the frozen wagons, and being forced to suffer heavy casualties. A few tried to defend themselves, but most of the men massing for the attack turned and ran. There was only one course of action open to his small force, and Talley gave the order immediately.

"Go get them. This is our chance! Kill the bastards. We can finish them off now."

They catapulted out of the ditch and charged forward; the sudden despair of defeat turned to exhilaration. They heard the locomotive roar as the driver fed power to the huge diesel engines.

Does the fool think he can drag that wrecked wagon along the tracks? Impossible! All he'll do is derail the locomotive, and they'll lose everything. There's no way they can continue without the wagons. It would mean the loss of the warheads. No, we’ve got them. Colonel fucking Ho, you're about to eat shit, you bastard!

They reached the outer line of enemy troops, many throwing up their hands in surrender, and he had no doubt the other side of the train, Yuri's shock and awe attack would be having the same effect. He shot two men attempting to bring their weapons to bear on his men and snapped another clip into his MP7. Alessandra had disobeyed his order and had her pistol out, firing shot after shot at the disorganized and panicking enemy. Josef couldn’t resist, and he was already blasting the enemy with his AK-47. It was a rout! As far as he could tell, the enemy was dead, surrendering, or running. He looked toward the locomotive. Something told him Ho would be sheltering in the cab.

Is he really trying to get away, to abandon the precious warheads?

And then the engine note changed, and the huge locomotive began to pull slowly forward. Talley felt exhilarated.

They’ve disconnected the wagons! He's running! Maybe we won't get the bastard today, but at least we have what we came for.

The firing died away as the locomotive gathered speed. A few men snapped off shots, maybe in the hopes of a lucky hit on something vital, but it was soon out of range. Suddenly, the battlefield was quiet as every man stopped shooting. Yuri ran toward him, his face beaming.

"I told you we'd be back, my friend."

Talley managed to extricate himself from the Russian’s bear hug. "You saved our asses, Yuri. All we need to do now is find the wagon with the warheads, and we can set the charges and destroy them."

And get out of this gigantic freezer.

The man nodded enthusiastically. "You want me to send something to head off that locomotive? It would have to be quick. He'll have too much of a head start if we don’t move now."

Talley thought for a few moments. It was tempting, the chance to settle accounts with the murderous Colonel, but he decided to let it go. It was time to set aside his personal feelings and focus once more on completing the operation. That was what counted. Nothing else.

"Let them go. We've done enough."

The Russian nodded. "I must see to my men. I daresay some of them will have started looting." He winked. "Old habits die hard. I have to end this before the militia arrives. They’ll have heard this racket back in Moscow."

Guy and Domenico had already organized the search, and the men were breaking open the locked wagons to locate the nukes. He watched and waited, feeling the despondency that always hit him after any battle, win or lose. Once more, the pure, pristine snow was splashed with bright red blood, like a deflowered virgin, except this was covered with chunks of flesh and debris. He knew they’d come close to losing everything, and yet now they'd won, thanks to the Russian Mafiya. And the losers? He surveyed the poor devils lying on the snow, the bodies already growing stiff in the chilling cold. They were the true losers. Men who’d been led by brutal, dishonest cheats and liars, the regime who ran everything inside the Stalinist state of North Korea for their own profit. They allowed their people to starve in their tens of thousands, and their sons to serve as soldiers to litter foreign fields with their broken bodies. Alessandra was close to him, and Josef stood a few meters away. The Russian pilot came near.

"You have your victory, I believe."

"Yeah." He looked again at the bloody wreckage of humanity, bloody flesh vivid against the snowy landscape. Something made him think of the immortal words of the Duke of Wellington after the battle of Waterloo.

'Next to a battle lost, the saddest thing is a battle won.'

Then he smiled to himself. He was becoming as poetic as Rovere. He looked around as two of his men arrived from the rear of the train, Roy and Virgil.

"We've checked it all out, searched everywhere. There’s nothing."

"Nothing? That's impossible!"

Roy shook his head emphatically. "We checked and double-checked, Boss. Nix."

The exhilaration of a victory snatched from the jaws of disaster began to evaporate. He began to feel a new emotion, and it had a name. Defeat.

Is it possible it’s all been a massive subterfuge? Has Ho pulled it off again? But how?

He watched as more of his men trickled back, and it was obvious from their expressions, they'd found nothing. Guy had a prisoner, and he almost smiled. It was comical. A North Korean officer, a captain from his shoulder boards, blue with cold, was pushing along an old lady’s bicycle.

"He was pedaling along the tracks," Guy said cheerfully. "Looks like he got left behind, so I thought I'd bring him along before he got up to any mischief. When he warms up, anyway."

Talley nodded absently. He couldn't care one way or the other about some stray North Korean. The enormity of the missing warheads bore down on him like a huge weight. In the blink of an eye, their triumph had been crushed, shattered, obliterated, and the hopes of their NATO bosses.

"I can't believe it," he said to Guy, shaking his head. "Those warheads had to be here. How could they have mounted such a huge operation for nothing? We must have missed them."

The North Korean said something they didn't understand. He switched to Russian, which was still incomprehensible until Alessandra Falco translated.

"He said you're wasting your time. They're not in the wagons."

They both looked at her, astounded. She spoke to the man at some length and then translated.

"He says his name is Captain Park, of the Ministry of People's Security. His Colonel left him behind when he was checking the rear of the train, and he nearly froze to death. He managed to steal a bicycle and was trying to catch up."

"To rejoin the train?"

She questioned him again. "He wants to kill Colonel Ho."

Talley smiled.

Another man to join the queue.

The Korean officer said something else.

"He said he will tell you where the warheads are hidden.”

“Why would he do that?” Talley queried.

She spoke to him and then nodded. “Because if you manage to stop them, it would mean disgrace for Colonel Ho when he gets back to Pyongyang. He will quite likely be put to death." Another torrent of Russian. "He says the warheads are hidden in the rear cab of the locomotive. In four wooden crates."

Shit! It was so obvious, and yet I didn’t think of it. And now they’re gone.

The simple logic of Ho’s plan was clear to him then. In the event of a concerted attack on the train, the locomotive would be the quickest way to take their precious cargo out of trouble. The locomotive he'd told Yuri they could leave go. He felt the black cloud of defeat descend over him because once more he’d underestimated the clever North Korean, and as a result, the man had beaten him.

He's scored a victory that’ll result in the murder of many more people than the eight girls he killed in Seoul, and there isn't a damn thing I can do to stop it.
Or is there?

He looked at Josef.

"My friend, how far is it to Vladivostok?"

The pilot understood immediately what he was being asked.

"Three thousand kilometers, more or less. Without the freight wagons to pull, the locomotive will arrive in less than two days. I take it you wish to extend the charter on my aircraft?"

"We do." He turned to Guy. "Round up the men and get them back aboard Josef's truck. We're going back to the airfield to head off Ho and finish this operation."

And finish that murderous bastard at the same time. First things first.

* * *

Josef’s face was disconsolate. "I'm sorry. It just can't be done. She won't start."

They were back at the airfield at Chita. Josef had arranged for the aircraft to be refueled while they waited inside the relative warmth of his warehouse, only to return with the bad news. He'd gone to warm up the engine because the temperature had plummeted, and he needed to prevent it from freezing. Now it wouldn't start, no matter what he tried.

"It's this fucking shitty fuel. These bastards don't filter it properly, and it carries all kinds of crap around the system. I'll have to drain the tank and the fuel lines to clear the problem."

"How long?"

The Russian gave a huge shrugged, which was oddly Gallic. "A day, maybe less if we're lucky."

Barrington had kept in the background during the battle for the train, although Talley had seen him join in the fight at the end when the North Koreans were retreating from the fury of their combined attack. Right at the end.

I don't blame the man. He’s a cop, not a Special Forces operator. Probably, if he were facing down a bunch of psychopathic criminals, he’d be as brave as the next man. He’s just out of his element.

But now he moved to reassert his authority.

"Look, Talley, we’ll need three refueling stops on the flight to Vladivostok, which is ridiculous. We won't make it. There's no way. It’ll take too long even if that aircraft could handle it, which I doubt. I'll contact Admiral Brooks and tell him to start fixing up to pull us out."

"No! We're here to do a job," Talley stared him down. "When we’re done, you can contact him. Not before."

"You can't order me…" He looked around as Guy, Domenico, Roy, and even Buchmann surrounded him. Their expressions were not pleasant. "What is…?"

"We're flying to Vladivostok, Major,” Guy told him quietly. “If you want to back out, there's the door. I suggest you go now."

Barrington reddened and muttered something about it being against his better judgment, and then stepped back. Talley nodded. "Good, that's settled. Josef, make it half a day, no more. Work through the night. Bring in a couple of mechanics, do anything. The Major will settle the bill."

Barrington made no objection.

"I'll do my best. Eighteen hours?" Josef ventured.

"Twelve! No more, we don’t have the time. Guy, tell the men to relax. We'll get some rest while they're working on the aircraft. We’ll have to stay out of sight. The town will be crawling with militia by now."

Guy went out into the warehouse. The other men followed, and Barrington went after them.

"I think I'll get some rest.”

"He'll need it. He won’t be happy about flying in that flying antique again," Alessandra chuckled.

The Russian glared at her, presumably for making a crack at his aircraft’s expense. Then he went outside out to start working on the blocked fuel lines. Talley was left alone with her.

"We all need the rest,” he said, feeling the tension drain out of him, as they were faced with a long period of inactivity. “We don't know what we’ll face in Vladivostok. I wouldn't put it past Ho to call in support for the last stage of the journey. It's not exactly a half dozen cases of gourmet food for the Leader’s kitchen."

"Do you think the Antonov will make it that far,” she smiled?

"It got us here."

"Only just." Her face was serious. "It could have gone either way, Abe. You know that."

It’s true, but it’s all we needed. Only just.

* * *

He went out into the warehouse while she tidied up in Josef's tiny bathroom. Captain Park sat on the floor in a dark corner, his face blank, but it was clear he had only one thought. To hasten the demise of Ho, the superior officer who’d left him to freeze to death alongside the iron tracks of the Trans-Siberian Railway. The men were busy cleaning, checking, and reloading their weapons. It was anyone's guess when they’d need them again, but when they did, they all knew there’d be no advance warning. He joined them, stripped down his MP7 and Sig Sauer P226 pistol, and reassembled them. One problem they faced was shortage of ammunition. The engagement on the railroad had cost them almost every round they'd brought with them.