Out of the Shadows (Akira and Deane Thriller Series Book 1) (24 page)

SMASH!

The living room window exploded
in a mass of flying glass! A large gas pellet flew in and dropped
onto the wooden floor.

Jordan shut the
door and rushed into the living room, frantically searching in his
backpack for his mask. ‘MASKS ON! NOW!’ He placed the mask over his
face but saw two of his team fall to the floor as they grasped
their throats in a struggle for air. Jordan threw himself on the
deck, whilst frantically trying to call for backup on his radio as
his remaining two agents attempted to catch sight of the attackers.
Adrenalin was surging around his body at lightning speed, taking
control of his mind just as quickly. ‘IT’S A TRAP!’

At the storage
facility, Olsen and his team had dealt with the guards outside. As
they waited at the door, neither of them could hear any sound
emanating from the facility. Olsen decided to take the safe
option.

‘Carter, take the others and
circle this box house, check for other exits and terrorist backup.
Go!’

As they moved
off, Olsen placed a small charge on the doorway. The device did the
trick. He rushed in and was presented with two aisles of storage
racks, with an office at the far end. Olsen sprinted down the left
aisle with his Beretta 92G pistol out in front of him at all times,
heading for the backroom. He heard a colleague give the all clear
on his side, so continued. As he closed in, he flicked a switch on
his communications device and sent a signal to Team A.

Silence.

‘Team A, come
in.’ Seconds passed but still no reply came. Olsen kicked the
office door clean off its hinges and swept the area with the sights
of his pistol, only to find a storage bay full of redundant
equipment. Olsen’s concern for Team A was growing and he felt the
need to finish his task quickly. He laid the charges, set the timer
to two minutes and rushed out of the storage bay.

Jordan cursed
loudly as he ducked down behind the nearest wall. Sniper fire
started flying into the living room. The situation took a deadly
turn for the worse when he noticed that one of his agents had been
killed because his tactical vest had been penetrated. A surge of
dread filled every part of him as he realised the attackers were
using the latest armour-piercing bullets. It was a struggle to
shout through his mask over the gunfire. ‘REPEAT, NEED URGENT
ASSISTANCE, WE ARE UNDER HEAVY FIRE! OLSEN, CARTER, RESPOND!’
Jordan waited for a moment but still heard no reply. ‘SHIT!’ He
could not even speak to his deputy five feet away; the noise level
of the attack was so great. The question of whether the unit was
damaged or if the attackers had found a way to jam their
transmissions came into his thoughts.
We
can’t stay here much longer!
Jordan moved
alongside a colleague to obtain a clearer view. Through his gas
mask, all he could see was the dense, heavy undergrowth ahead of
the house. He wondered just how long the attackers would wait until
they would enter. Even the most positive guess did not make him
feel any better. Jordan felt his stomach turn but stuck with the
decision he had made. ‘FOLLOW MY LEAD! WE’RE GETTING OUT OF
HERE!’

At first, Gibbs
and the other surviving agent didn’t move. The noise level made it
almost impossible to communicate. Gibbs reloaded his rifle and
fired several rounds in the direction of the undergrowth ahead. ‘WE
SHOULD STAY AND FIGHT, SIR! IF WE CONTACT THE OTHERS, MAYBE WE
COULD-’

No time for
this!
Jordan told himself, as he grabbed
Gibbs, pulled him back from the line of fire and shoved him in the
direction of the back door. ‘WE’RE LEAVING RIGHT NOW! GO!’ Jordan
watched the last surviving members of his team move off as he
stayed for a moment, in an attempt to draw the attacker’s
gunfire.

Gibbs followed
his colleague through the back of the house but watched his body
jerk unnaturally as bullets rained in from all sides. Gibbs fell
back into the living room as the kitchen back door was being
smashed down. He cocked his rifle, turned and emptied a whole
cartridge, spreading bullets in every possible direction. Fear took
hold of him as he jumped over several bodies and made his way back
to Jordan, in the hope that the more experienced leader would have
an escape plan. ‘WE LOST CARSTON! WHAT NOW?!’

Jozef heard the
gunfire stop outside the kitchen door and looked up slowly. As he
moved towards the house he saw his brother, beside him, get up and
then drop to his knees. Jozef turned his back on the house with no
thought for another attack, just concern over his only family.
‘Gyorgy! Are you all right?’ To his shock, he saw his brother clasp
his chest, where blood was beginning to seep down his combat
suit.

Jordan caught
sight of the hostages in the corner of his vision and looked at his
deputy. ‘WE DON’T HAVE A CHOICE!’ He held his weapon of choice, a
black Glock .45 semi-automatic pistol in one hand and his Colt
rifle in the other. ‘WE RUN FOR IT, BACK TO THE VAN! READY? ON MY
MARK!’

Gibbs turned
his back on the scene behind him, where he had lost another
colleague. He grabbed his leader’s arm at the thought of the
hostages. ‘THE HOSTAGES! WE CAN’T JUST LEAVE THEM HERE!’ Even over
the continuing bullet fire, the urgency could be traced in his
voice.

Jordan looked again at the room
where the hostages were. He made an effort to crawl towards them
but several more bullets flew in from the main window, forcing
Jordan back. As hard as it was to make the decision, he just wanted
to make it back to the van in one piece. ‘WE’RE LEAVING NOW!’

Gibbs looked to
his leader, then back to the room. He immediately had his mind made
up for him as the living room door was blasted off its hinges. He
forced the images of the hostages from his mind and followed Jordan
out of the front door as both men made a desperate run for the
cover of the undergrowth not far away.

Jozef dragged
his brother into the kitchen and continued to scream at his only
family to stay with him. He gave an order to Ferec to cease fire on
the house and then grabbed him by his shirt collar. His voice was
full or vengeance, out of control. ‘Take the rest of the men and
blow them all to hell!!!’ He found some towels in the kitchen and
placed them on his brother, who was looking weaker by the second.
One of his loyal guards loomed in the doorway. Jozef’s green eyes
locked onto him. ‘I want a doctor here in the next five minutes or
you’ll be on the floor with him. Move!’ From behind, Jozef heard
several noises that made him turn around. There, in perfect health,
were the five Polish locals he had rounded up for the operation. A
bolt of surprise shot through his system as he realised the MI6
team had left them behind. Jozef looked around the room and saw a
Colt M16A2 rifle lying next to one of the fallen members of the MI6
strike team. He calmly placed a pair of gloves on his hands, picked
up the weapon, took aim and without even a moment’s hesitation,
fired every possible round from the rifle. His mind continued to
boil over with fury…

Carter returned
to the armoured van and looked back sharply at the exploding
storage area. As everything died down, Olsen’s voice attracted his
attention from behind, as he saw the group return. ‘What’s the
score, Sam? Anything?’

Olsen shook his
head quickly and reloaded his rifle. ‘Nothing. I’m more concerned
with Jordan’s team; have you heard anything from them in the last
five minutes?’

Carter shook his head. ‘No
response.’

Olsen jogged
past Carter, in the direction of the house. ‘You’re with me! The
rest of you leave with the van if we’re not back in ten
minutes!’

Carter watched
them go but caught sight of something ahead. ‘Heads up, Sam! We’ve
got company!’

Olsen had
matured into a decisive leader and wasted no time in taking
control. They all dived for cover as bullet fire hit the ground and
the surrounding trees. He grabbed Carter, who was by the side of
the van. ‘Get to the van and start the engine! Move it, Dan!’ He
watched his close friend set off as more bullets came ever closer.
‘And keep your head down!’ Olsen turned to another agent. ‘You’re
with me, we provide cover for any survivors!’

Carter pulled
out his Heckler and Koch P7M8 pistol as he watched Olsen return
fire. The dark-skinned agent saw his chance, crawled round the side
of the van and returned fired when he could, taking cover behind
the front seats. He flicked a switch on his radio and screamed into
his helmet, which would relay back to Olsen. ‘READY!’ Ahead, the
attackers could be seen to be moving forward to make the final
push. Carter took a Level III tactical vest from the racks and
placed it over his existing armour as he made a move to the
driver’s seat.

Carter turned the van around
and revved up the engine, watching a mini war unfold in the rear
view mirror.

Jordan appeared and saw the
scene in the rear view mirror. ‘Get this thing moving!’

Carter revved
the engine again and started to move as he saw Olsen and another
man appear in the wing mirror and jump on board.

‘Can you get us
to the rendezvous point, Dan?’ Asked a nervous Olsen. ‘I’ve sent a
signal to the recovery team, not sure if it reached them,
interference all around us. All being well, the chopper should be
waiting.’

Carter’s left shoulder was
bleeding. ‘I think so! No sign of them following us. Hold on!’ The
van turned sharply onto the main road and sped towards the
checkpoint. It looked like they were going to make it after
all…

Ferec emerged from the shadows
and discontinued his pointless fire. The MI6 team had escaped. He
picked up his radio and attempted to contact Jozef.

‘How is Gyorgy,
my friend?’

Jozef leant
back against several kitchen units and heard the radio message
almost from a long distance away. For the past few minutes, he had
watched a doctor attempt to save the life of his beloved brother.
He picked the radio up and raised it to his mouth, the red button
on the far side of the device pressed. ‘The doctor is with him now,
Ferec. Gyorgy has been critically injured.’ His tone changed to one
of indifference. ‘The MI6 team?’

Ferec paused
for a moment, not wanting to give his friend more bad news. ‘I am
sorry, Jozef. They eluded us this time. I will see you
shortly.’

Jozef dropped
the radio and watched the doctor continue in his effort to save his
brother. For a brief moment, the thoughts of MI6 simply faded away
as his childhood and every waking memory of his twin brother took
hold of him.

Chapter 17

Friday, March 9
^th
03:30,

Moscow, Russia.

The night shadows covered every corner
of Moscow, as Marraud slowly crouched down in Alexandrovsky Gardens
and looked through his compact set of night vision binoculars. Sure
enough, Salenko and his mystery companion appeared and then got
into a nearby black saloon. Marraud wasted no time and quickly made
his way to his car, a rundown cream coloured Lada. Every time he
saw it, he remembered the standard jokes about Lada cars but the
car did one thing really well; it didn’t attract any attention.

Keeping himself
far behind Salenko and out of sight, he smiled as he noted that
Salenko was driving, with his companion sitting alongside in the
front. The image clearly showed who was in charge. Marraud’s mind
sparked into activity as twenty questions all flashed by in a
matter of seconds
. Where could they be
going at this time? Why is Salenko driving? What about
security?
The latter made Marraud wary of
the mystery man’s background and abilities. Taking the potential
next President of Russia out for a drive in the early hours of the
morning with no security was some move and demanded respect.
Whoever the individual was, he had to be supremely confident of his
abilities and clearly felt able to protect Salenko from any threat.
Being very careful to keep his distance, Marraud slowed down as he
came onto the bridge and crossed the Vodootvodny Canal. He headed
away from the Moscow Kremlin and moved into the suburban areas.
Noting another turnoff ahead, he took the same, taking the Lada
into Yakimanka Bol Street, which was completely deserted. Panic set
in slightly as he coasted the car down the long and winding street,
numerous darkened houses passing by the window. Marraud noted light
ahead, in a three-storey house in Zemsky per Street just a few
hundred feet away. Taking a chance, he pulled over and parked his
car, desperate to keep suspicion to a minimum. With his binoculars,
he watched carefully. To his delight, he saw the saloon park
alongside the house some distance away, its two passengers stepping
out. Marraud kept his attention locked onto the mystery man and
took note of his thorough inspection of the house and its
surroundings. For a good thirty seconds, he made sure of everything
with meticulous checks.
This is no
personal assistant or chief of staff.

Several minutes
passed before Marraud left his car and made his way to the back of
the house. Risk taking was part of the game but that didn’t mean he
liked it; every bone in Marraud’s body knew what the consequences
would be if he were caught. Slowly, he crept around the house and
came to a window, where he could hear voices. Doing everything
possible to make no sound whatsoever, Marraud froze as he saw
Salenko and a senior Russian politician in the room. The name
escaped him but Marraud had seen him before. His blue eyes scanned
for the mystery man and he almost jumped as he realised the
individual was right next to the window, with his back turned. All
the hairs on his neck stood on end as he realised how close he was
to Salenko’s companion. As the conversation continued, Marraud
translated every word in his head and kept very, very
still.