Echo Six: Black Ops 4 - Chechen Massacre (25 page)

Thank Christ! Without the machine gun, we’re really fucked
.

"How long before it blows?" he asked Drew.

He checked his wristwatch. “Anytime…"

It went up, a huge explosion that destroyed the brick building. The heavy, latticed steel mast began to topple, finally crashing to the ground close to the tower.

"… now," he finished.

"Good work.” He turned to Guy. “That ZPU-4 will hurt us if we don’t get out of here mighty fast. We have a couple of minutes at most before they open fire. Then they'll shred this place. We need to be someplace else."

“They’ll come after us with everything they have, and we haven’t much left to fight with,” Guy pointed out. “We’ll be hard pressed to hold them off.”

Talley told him about the armory in the tunnel, close to the bomb shelter.

"There should be enough weapons and ammunition for us to keep fighting, and they’ll have explosives. With any luck, there’ll be C4, or something similar, to destroy this tower and cover our tracks. Enough to put them off our tail, at least until we get away from here."

Guy opened his mouth to reply, but he never spoke. The seconds had run out, and the devastating, shattering roar of anti-aircraft artillery silenced him. The quadruple barreled ZPU-4 had opened fire. They'd been fast, very fast. Armor piercing rounds impacted the tower and ripped through the structure, forcing them to flatten on the floor to escape the hurricane of heavy caliber shells tearing through the building. Each of the four barrels had a maximum fire rate of six hundred rounds each minute. Potentially, two thousand four hundred 14.7mm bullets could smash through the tower every minute, although the gunner knew his business, and he fired in shattering bursts of four or five seconds duration.

Talley directed his men to return fire at the troops who were firing continuously in support of the heavy gun. They were the next danger. Anytime now they’d rush the building, and the fight would be over. The tower already resembled a Swiss cheese, full of holes from the heavy caliber rounds, and every second their cover was reduced by the impact of more heavy shells. The gunner had already smashed a huge hole that gave him clear sight of the tunnel entrance, their only means of escape.

"Jerry," he shouted to the Polish sniper. "Can take out those gunners? We need time to make our getaway."

"That's a negative, Boss,” he shouted back. “The bastards are tucked behind armored shields, and they're keeping their heads well down."

He nodded. They'd have to find another way to stop the rain of heavy caliber shells before they were wiped out. Then he thought of the armory in the basement. The armory would have RPG7s. They were as common as the Kalashnikov AK-47 in communist armies.

"Guy, the armory in the basement. I'm going down there to locate a rocket launcher to take out that gun. Cover me."

"Copy that. Everyone, give it everything you have. Keep firing until I tell you to stop." He nodded at Talley. “All set. Keep your head down.”

They switched to full auto, and despite their pitifully few numbers, the torrent of outgoing fire was enough to cause the enemy fire to slacken. Even the ZPU-4 stopped firing as a continuous barrage of bullets pinged around the shields protecting the gunners, and they instinctively ducked.

Talley rolled over the floor, keeping as flat as he could. A round smacked into his armored vest. It felt as if a mule had kicked him, but at least it was from an assault rifle. If a single shell from the ZPU-4 hit him, it would tear his body apart. He reached the head of the staircase and dived headfirst down it. The long staircase led to the bomb shelter. Halfway down, he stopped his fall and climbed to his feet. Inside the bomb shelter, he passed the grim sight of the bodies left lying there, Buchmann's victims.

He walked out into the passage and crossed to the other side. There was a steel door, fastened with a padlock. He used his MP7 to fire a short burst that shattered the lock and sent bullets ricocheting down the passage. He pulled the door open and went inside. There were racks of rifles, light and heavy machine guns, boxes and boxes of ammunition, grenades, and explosives, and on one wall, a rack of RPG7s. He snatched two of the launchers and carried them back up the staircase, where the enemy had resumed their onslaught. Bullets smacked through the huge holes in the structure.

"I'm coming out. Give me cover."

He heard Guy shouting orders, and their guns spat out bullets at a fierce rate. The flak gun briefly stopped firing, and he carried the missiles across to his men, who were spread in a defensive position, firing furiously at the hostiles.

"I have two launchers. I need another shooter."

Rovere slid across and took hold of the second RPG. "I reckon that's me. Take the first shot, Boss."

"No way. Aim for the flak gun. I'll follow it up with a second shot."

The Italian smiled ruefully. "When the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger."

He ignored the inevitable Shakespeare quote, but behind the humor there was a grim acknowledgment. The first missile shooter would be a surprise to the enemy, and the chances were good he’d be able to take the shot and get back behind cover. When the second shooter took aim, they'd be waiting.

Too bad, it has to be done.

"Get on with it, Lieutenant Rovere. Take the shot before we're shot to pieces."

The Italian waited just inside cover, measuring the distance and angle for the shot at the flak gun. Then he shouldered the missile, stepped out, and took aim. Incredibly, the NKs were momentarily stunned by the appearance of the rocket. The gunners were paralyzed with fear. Their armored shields were protection against rifle bullets, but an RPG7 missile impacting on the gun would destroy everything, and rip through steel and flesh alike.

Domenico fired. The missile left the launcher, spread across the short distance trailing smoke and flame, and impacted with a huge explosion. But the hit was on the concrete, five meters in front of the flak gun. The crew was bombarded with shrapnel and shards of concrete, and Talley could see the loader blasted out of his seat by the shockwave. He landed on the ground several meters away from his gun, but the gunner was still in position. He pulled the trigger, and the barrels began to spew out their lethal message of death once more.

It was Talley’s turn. This time, it had to be a well-aimed shot. If he missed, there wouldn't be time to run back down to the armory for more rockets. Besides, the gunner would riddle him with heavy caliber rounds. The control tower room in which they sheltered was perforated by huge holes torn into the structure from the armor piercing rounds. Many more, and they would be totally exposed to gunfire from outside. He tensed and shouted to the men.

"Cover me. I'm going out there to take the shot. This one has to work."

His men renewed their fire, throwing everything they had at the enemy. At this rate, they’d soon run out of ammunition, although they'd find replacements in the basement armory. Guy would have to lead them out, and then he realized his number two might not know how to fly the big Mil.

God, if the worst…

It was a death thought. He put it out of his mind, stepped out from behind cover, and pointed the RPG7 at the flak gun. The sighting mechanism locked onto the hot barrels of the ZPU-4 immediately, and he heard the whine that indicated it was ready to fire. The gunner had seen him and shifted his aim.

Talley saw the four barrels move until they were pointing right at him. He was about to fire, but it was too late, much too late. The gunner got there first and squeezed the trigger, and he heard the first armor piercing rounds spit out of the gun. His only regret was he'd let his men down, as well as his sons.

The ZPU went silent. Only two shells came out of the barrels before it stopped. They both missed. As Domenico's rocket had blasted the loader from his seat, the gunner had nothing left to shoot. Talley squeezed the trigger, and the launcher kicked as the rocket ignited and left the tube. It hurtled unerringly toward the target, and he even saw the gunner leap from his seat behind the shield to escape. There was no way he could beat a speeding rocket, and the missile smashed into the center of the weapon, exploding in a huge fireball that sent shards of heavy steel hurtling around the immediate vicinity. He dived back into the ruined control tower as even more bullets began seeking him out; fired by an enemy who was shocked and angered by the destruction of their gun.

"Let’s go! Head to the basement, and take what guns and ammo you need from that armory. We’re getting away from here right now. Jackson, find the explosives. I want you to destroy this place and block the tunnel behind us. If we're lucky, it'll take them some time to figure out we didn't die in the explosion."

The demolitions specialist nodded, and the men went down the staircase. Domenico and Alessandra followed, dragging the Russian pilot with them. They’d gained a small amount of time while the NKs got over their shock at the destruction of the ZPU. But the enemy fire began to increase when they realized Echo Six had stopped shooting, and they prepared for an attack. Jackson reappeared carrying a heavy wooden crate of explosive and began setting his charge under the staircase that led to the top of the tower.

"This is good stuff, not unlike C4. I have the detonator and the connecting wire in my pocket. It'll be a lash up, but it should do the job. I’ll set the timer for one minute; it won't give them enough time to defuse it. Only problem is the blast could hurt us. I've no way to prevent that."

"Do it!"

He nodded. Apart from Jackson setting the charges, there was only him and the Korean sergeant left in the building. During a break in the firing, the man told him his name was Park Kun Woo, and he hoped to find well-paid work in a pizza bar if he ever made it to America. With armor piercing shells smashing the building to small pieces around them, and a score of assault rifles pouring fire through the holes, it was the only light moment. Jackson finished setting his charges and crawled over to Talley, keeping his head down from the gunfire that was steadily increasing.

"I'm ready. When it detonates, it'll be like a B-52 strike."

"Copy that. Hit it, Drew. Then we go out together."

He hit the button that started the countdown, and they dived down the staircase, through the doorway, and into the bomb shelter below. Both men slammed the heavy, blast proof door and started to secure the clips. They had the second steel lever in place when the charges detonated. The ground shook, and huge cracks appeared in the concrete around them. Chunks of masonry began raining down, and they had to twist out of the way to avoid being struck by falling debris. Tons of reinforced concrete fell in the staircase outside, sealing the blast door into the control tower. He avoided the worst of it, except one huge chunk of masonry that struck his webbing. He felt more than heard the crack of plastic and electronic circuit boards.

The satphone’s gone. Damn.
 

"There could be secondary explosions, so we need to keep moving," Drew shouted. “This ceiling could come down any time.”

Their hearing was almost useless after the huge force of the blast and the resultant shockwave, but Jackson’s meaning was obvious. He led the way past the Korean bodies, fighting to find the way through the thick, choking clouds of dust that filled the room. He reached the far wall and used his hands to feel along until he came to the blast door. When he touched the top lever, he found it bent out of place by the blast.

"Drew, Park, help me get this open. Lean your weight on it and pull."

The three men gripped the steel lever and wrenched, pulled hard, using every ounce of their strength, but the lever obstinately refused to budge. Talley groped around the room, looking for a tool, anything that could be used to hammer the metal, and came across a pistol in a leather holster, hanging from one of the bunks. He pulled it out, a heavy Stechkin, the Russian-made pistol that could be used as a machine pistol with the addition of an optional stock. He couldn't give a damn about the stock, only that it was of heavy steel construction and would make a useful hammer. He squinted through the dust cloud to find Jackson and Park. The men were still trying to pull on the jammed lever.

"Find something heavy, maybe another weapon," he shouted at Drew. "If we alternately beat on the metal, it should give way."

"Roger that."

He went groping around the room. Talley banged repeatedly on the jammed lever while Park leaned on it with all his strength. After a couple of minutes, Drew joined them. He’d found an AK-47. The three men renewed their assault on the jammed lever. The dust cloud began to settle, and their hearing returned. It was a chilling sensation. They were sealed in a soundproof concrete tomb.

"I have some C4 left," Drew murmured, as he took a drink from his water bottle and offered it to Talley and Park, anything to ease the dust choking them.

"Negative. You know what'll happen in this enclosed space. We may as well put guns to our heads and finish it. Keep hitting the lever. Sooner or later it'll give, and we can open the door."

They kept banging, but it was like trying to move a mountain by hand. And then, just when they were starting to despair of moving the stubborn lever, they heard someone else banging on the lever from the other side. Guy had realized the problem, and his people had started hitting at the lever to loosen it. With the extra effort, it only took a few seconds, and it suddenly surrendered and shifted to the open position. They swung the heavy door open and stepped into the passage to join the rest of the squad.

"I'm sorry we didn't realize sooner, Boss," Guy explained. "The explosion wrecked our hearing, and we only just heard you banging at the lever and worked out what you were trying to do. Everything okay?"

"Sure. Did you raid the armory?”

Guy smiled. “We got everything we need, a present from Uncle Kim.”

“Good. Let's get moving. The sooner we’re out of here, the better. Once they start working through the rubble and find we're not underneath, they'll come after us with everything they have."

They almost ran along the dark passage, bent over to avoid knocking their heads on the low roof. The concrete passage had not completely avoided damage from the blast, and chips of concrete littered the floor, threatening to trip the unwary in the dimly lit passage. Unless it was the start of a complete tunnel collapse. The thought made them hurry. The dust was everywhere, floating in the confined space, clogging their lungs as they sucked in air to keep running, and by the time they reached the silos and started up the stairs, they were all coughing and finding it hard to breathe.

"Is that you?" a voice shouted as a gun barrel pointed through the doorway at the top of the staircase, a familiar voice, Sergeant Roy Reynolds.

"That's affirmative, Roy. We're coming in."

* * *

They charged out of the building where the wounded were already struggling to remove the camo net. They helped them throw the heavy mesh to one side and pulled the worst of the wounded onto the floor of the cavernous space. He knew they’d been incredibly lucky to survive the action at the air base, and even more, to get away, but they still had a long way to go. And when the enemy heard the huge turboshafts begin to start and saw the massive rotorcraft lift off, then they’d know and call in the Hind gunships. He made a final check around the hold before moving to the cockpit to start the engines.

"All secure?" he asked Guy.

"Roger that. You know they'll come after us."

"I know. If we head straight for the Russian border, it will take us over the sea, and we'll be sitting targets. I’ll initially head for the Thirty Eighth Parallel, as if we’re crossing into South Korea. As soon as we’re out in the boonies, I'll change course and go north. That’ll keep us overland. If we’re lucky, the ground clutter and natural contours of the landscape will hide us."

"Amen to that. Remember, when those Hinds come after us, they'll use everything they have to find us, ground-based listening devices, look down radar, whatever. Don't go too far south. That's the direction the Mi-24s are coming from. I'd hate for us to run slap into them."

"I'll do my best."

He climbed into the pilot's seat. After a brief glance at the gauges, he hit the engine start buttons. With a huge roar and a cloud of smoke from the exhaust, the giant turboshafts picked up revolutions and the vast rotor blade assembly began to turn overhead. He checked the gauges again and waited impatiently for the engines to come up to temperature and revolutions for take off. Although it was only a few short minutes, it seemed like hours, and every moment he expected a company of enemy troops to appear and start shooting at them.

Finally, the needles on the analogue gauges reached the levels for take off. He pushed the throttles forward to maximum and adjusted the collective. Slowly, the giant rotorcraft wobbled into the air. The nose was pointed toward the air base, so he swung through a hundred and eighty degrees and adjusted the collective again to give the craft forward momentum. They gradually began to pick up speed, and then they were rushing way from the scene of the battle, without a single shot being fired at their lumbering craft. He knew it couldn't last. Their only chance was to use guile and cunning. He set course to the south and made the necessary adjustments to squeeze every ounce of speed out of the lumbering helo.

After five kilometers, when he estimated they were out of sight of the air base, he swung the craft around and headed north toward the border with Russia, and for an eventual landfall outside hostile territory. They were heading home. They'd wrested the warheads away from the enemy, and had even captured the murderer of the nurses in Seoul.

It still wasn’t the whole story. He had to find a way to force Ho to give the order for the release of his sons. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but when he did pressure the Colonel to order his sons’ release, it would be a dispassionate and unemotional exercise. Little by little, Alessandra had talked him into seeing the danger of allowing the pain and hurt to dominate his life, to the exclusion of everything else. No more did he need to exorcise his demons by tearing the North Korean apart with his bare hands. He was over that. There were plenty more like Ho around the world, and he couldn't spare the time or the emotional pain to focus on every single psycho he came across. It was just part of his job, no more.

Now I can concentrate on getting the boys back, period. Forget revenge. It’ll come when it comes.

He turned as Alessandra came forward and joined him in the cockpit. She sat in the co-pilot’s seat, strapped in, and plugged in her headset. She looked at him as she spoke.

"How are we looking? Do we have a chance?"

She kept her voice calm, but he could see her face was stretched and pale. They'd been in continuous action for a long, long time, too long without proper food and rest. But it was more than that. The stress of operating behind the lines was chilling, never knowing when an enemy force was about to close in and kill you with withering bursts of automatic gunfire. She wanted reassurance, needed reassurance. He was about to give her an upbeat answer when he checked himself. She also needed the truth.

"A small chance, no more than that. The problem is the Hinds. When the NKs work out our direction, they'll vector them onto us, and the gunships will hit us so hard and fast, I doubt we'll see them coming."

"What about radar? I can see the screen in the center of the cockpit, wouldn't that tell when they’re close? Maybe it would help.”

He hadn't ignored the radar, but he also knew if they saw an enemy closing in, there was nothing they could do, so he’d left it to concentrate on flying the helo as efficiently as possible.

But why not?

"Switch it on. See if you can make it work."

In truth, there was little to do to make it work. She switched the set on, and immediately it began searching the skies ahead of them. She realized the problem straight away and switched to the rear display. As the vacuum tube warmed, they saw the four dots appear at the bottom of the screen.

The enemy didn't take the bait and has worked out our heading. Shit!

"Is that them?"

If it was at all possible, her face had whitened even more.

"It's them. I'd estimate they’re about fifty kilometers behind us, and they're a lot quicker than this thing. They’re coming in fast.”