Spycatcher (30 page)

He moved quickly into the room with his weapon held high. The place had chairs, a bed, a television, and an open window. But no person, living or dead.

Laith's strained voice broke into his thoughts. “Eleven—no, twelve hostiles coming to the house through the woods from the north.” There was silence for a few seconds before he added, “I can take some of them.”

The distinct sound of Laith's Barrett M82A1 fifty-caliber weapon could be heard all around the place.

Roger shouted, “Ground floor clear! It's a fucking mess!”

Laith said in a more controlled and quiet voice, “One down. Two down. Now three down.” He shouted, “I see snipers! Two of them!”

Roger entered the room. He was covered in sweat and black soot. He walked quickly up to Will and grabbed him by the arm. “What happened?”

Will sucked in air. “Ben and Julian are dead. Both of them stood in the way of explosive blasts that were meant for me.” He looked at the open window and then at Roger. “Megiddo must have escaped through there.”

Roger nodded quickly and spoke into his communication microphone. “Laith, just two of us left in here. We're going after our man, but you need to take out those snipers.”

Two high-velocity rifle shots could be heard almost simultaneously. They did not sound like Laith's weapon.

Roger turned sharply in their direction. He shouted, “Laith? Laith?” He kicked at a nearby chair, sending it crashing to the other side of the room.

“They must have killed him. It's just us now, Roger.” Will looked at the window again. “I'm going after Megiddo. But there must be at least nine hostiles still coming our way. Do you think you can keep some of them off my back?”

Roger nodded and ran out of the room.

Will sprinted and jumped through the open window. He fell eight meters before hitting the ground and rolling over snow. He crouched, looking left and right through his rifle's sight.

He heard Roger's voice. “I'm out of the house and one hundred meters to the north. I count seven men coming toward me, but I can't see the two snipers.”

“Can you see anything else? Lana? Vehicles? Movement on the lake?”

“There's nothing else.”

Shit. Will looked away from Roger's hidden position to the north of the lodge and turned to face the south. He looked out at the lake to his right and at the island where Laith now lay silent. He looked ahead again. Everywhere before him was forest, and its trees were laden with snow. Six kilometers in the distance, one of the Adirondack mountains looked down at him and everything around him.

“There's no way to be sure,” he said to Roger, “but I've got to assume he's heading south, away from the firefight.”

“Maybe he was never here.”

Will thought about the room's booby trap. He pictured Ben's body being torn apart by its violent force. “No. That room was important. He was here.”

“Then look for high ground. That's where he'll go. He'll wait there until his men have killed us all.”

Will narrowed his eyes and focused on the mountain in the distance. He heard Roger's MP5-N submachine gun suddenly emit short, controlled bursts. He knew that Roger was now occupied and that he was on his own. He tightened his grip on his assault rifle and ran.

He dodged between and around trees, the entire time alternating his gaze between what lay ahead and to his sides and on the ground, desperately scanning for footprints in the snow or freshly broken foliage—any signs of Megiddo's route. He sprinted until the lake was no longer by his side. He sprinted until he was at least one kilometer from the lodge.

Roger shouted, “Two confirmed kills, but the bastards are flanking me! I'm dead if I hold my position!”

Will immediately stopped. “Get out of there, Roger.”

“Not until you have your man in your sights.”

Will kicked the ground in frustration. He looked ahead at the elevating ground. He looked back in the direction of the lodge and Roger's dire position. He cursed and pointed his gun at the sky. He fired all the bullets that remained in his magazine. The noise from his gun echoed and bounced around the lake valley.

“If that was you”—Roger was almost screaming over the sound of his own machine gun—“then you definitely got their attention! The four men on my right flank are leaving me alone! You've given me a chance! But those four hostiles are coming for you!”

Will placed a new clip into his rifle and sprinted onward. Fresh snow started to fall in gentle flurries, and he fervently hoped that it was not going to become heavier and destroy any chances he had of finding tracks. He ran for another two kilometers, and all the time he could hear gunfire coming from the area around the lodge.

When the gunfire stopped, so did Will, momentarily. He jabbed a finger against his earpiece and waited. He sighed with relief as he heard Roger's voice.

“All hostiles by the lodge are dead. You've still got four on your tail, though, and there's no sign of the snipers. But I'm coming for you.”

“I'm about two point five kilometers away from you. Head toward the mountain.”

Fresh wind blew into Will's face. He looked at the sky and its darkening clouds and shook his head. He wondered if the assault on the house had been in vain. He wondered if the bravery and sacrifice of Julian, Ben, and Laith would ultimately be meaningless. He wondered if Roger would be able to stay alive. And he wondered if today would be the day his own life came to a pointless end.

He forced his legs into action and pumped them harder to accelerate over the thick snow and rising ground. His breathing came loud, and his lungs ached from the icy air. He ran faster until he'd covered another two kilometers, still constantly scanning his surroundings.

Then he saw them.

They were two distant dots at first, but when he looked through his rifle's scope, he saw a man and a woman running up the lower slopes of the mountain. He adjusted the scope to intensify and magnify the image. He saw that the woman was Lana. The man had his back to him and was pulling Lana's arm.

Will clasped his fingers to his throat mike and shouted, “I have a visual! One man and Lana! At the base of the mountain!”

The noise of a rifle shot boomed through the valley behind him. Will called, “Roger?”

A few seconds later, Roger spoke. His voice sounded weak. “Hold on, Will . . . busy.”

More gunfire could be heard, and it sounded like it was coming from Roger's weapon.

Then Roger spoke again. “One sniper confirmed dead. But he shot me first.”

“How bad?”

“Not critical. But it tore out a chunk of my calf muscle. Short of dragging myself along the ground, I'm immobile.”

“I'm coming to get you.”

“No, you're not, Will.” The man's voice was raspy but firm. “You're going to get them.”

Will stomped the ground in frustration. “All right. Stay where you are. Stay in radio communication. Shoot anything that comes near you.”

He quickly glanced through his scope again and estimated that his quarry was approximately fifteen hundred meters ahead of him. He inhaled deeply and ran forward. After ten minutes he knew he was now at the base of the mountain. He saw footprints and felt an immediate sense of hope.

“Can you see me from your position?” he asked Roger.

Roger's words were strained. “No. The trees are too dense. But”—he paused—“I'm using the dead sniper's rifle scope to look around the area between us both. I'm getting brief glimpses of the men on your trail, but they're so brief that I'm not getting any chance for clear shots. The men are about one kilometer behind you. I still can't see the other sniper, though.”

“Understood.”

A loud crack sounded by Will's ear, and he was instantly thrown sideways. He put a hand to his head and felt blood and shards of wood. Looking at the tree next to him, he saw that a high-velocity bullet had hit it and sent splinters straight into his face. He pulled himself into a crouch and glanced behind him. He knew that the bullet had come from the sniper. He was now within deadly range of that man's weapon.

“Roger, the sniper's onto me.”

Roger coughed. “The one I killed was wearing an arctic camouflage suit. That's why I didn't spot him until it was too late. You've got to take your man out, or he'll easily kill you before you get halfway up the mountain.”

Will looked in the direction of Lana and her captor, then back in the direction of the valley, and knew that Roger was right. He quickly examined the bullet mark on the tree again and decided that the man must have made the shot from the east. He decided that the shooter was on his own and away from his colleagues to the south. He had to be close to make a meaningful shot through the wooded area around them. Will calculated that his assailant had no reason to deviate from his easterly position, given that the very last thing he would expect was for his target to turn back and try to hunt him down. Will strapped his carbine to his chest, pulled out his combat knife, and commenced his hunt.

He jogged downhill, and despite zigzagging to make his route unpredictable, he knew he was still an easy target for the sniper. He wanted it that way. His only plan was to expose the sniper by encouraging him to shoot at him, since he didn't have time for a more sophisticated and patient tactic. But he knew that the chances of his being shot were great, and he knew that if the high-velocity bullet hit him anywhere in the upper thigh or above the waist, he would most likely die from the wound. He resisted the urge to sprint and instead kept his pace steady.

He reached a small clearing, stopped, and looked around. He listened but heard nothing. Snowflakes caressed his face. He moved ahead into denser forest and then caught the very slightest of movements in his peripheral vision. He turned to face the direction of the movement but saw nothing, and he wondered if his eyes were deceiving him. He moved again just as a very loud crack sounded close by, followed by a rush of air close to his head. He saw a flash of light and realized that it belonged to a rifle scope. Behind the scope was a man whose white combat clothing made him barely visible against the backdrop of snow. The man was pointing his rifle at him. The man was only forty meters away.

Will dived sideways just as another shot was fired. He immediately got up and sprinted at the sniper while the man was frantically trying to chamber another round into his weapon. The man slammed the bolt action of his rifle forward as Will came to within a few meters of him. He raised his weapon, but Will hurled himself forward and crashed into the sniper. Legs and arms lashed out violently at Will's head and body, and he was pushed back a little with the force. Smashing the butt of his rifle into Will's head, the sniper tried to break away. Will shook his head in pain and knew that the man needed a few meters of distance from him in order to shoot. He did not hesitate. He pulled himself to his feet, kept his head low, gripped his knife tightly, and charged at the man. When he reached him, he raised his upper body, grabbed the back of the man's neck, and punched the knife into his stomach. Despite the thick padding of the arctic camouflage, the knife easily sliced through clothing and flesh until its blade was fully inside the man's body. Will held him like that for a moment and then wrenched the knife upward so that the sniper's entire stomach was ripped open. He pulled out his knife and watched the sniper's pure white suit become saturated with his blood. He let the man fall backward, unstrapped his assault rifle, and shot him twice in the head.

Will breathed heavily and spoke into his throat mike. “The second sniper's dead.”

Roger's reply was instant. “You've got no time to stand still. I can see that the four-man team has fanned out, meaning they've lost your position. But they're close to you.”

“Are you sure that you can't pick any of them off with your rifle?”

Roger said nothing for a moment. Then: “I've tied the rifle to a tree to try to enable a steady shot. And I've tied myself to the same tree.”

Will closed his eyes, sighed, and spoke softly. “How much blood have you lost, Roger?”

“Enough to make my arms and legs shake and make shooting near-impossible. Not enough to stop talking to you.” He coughed. “A little blood loss doesn't bother me. I'll do what I can. Just focus on what you have to do.”

Will opened his eyes, rubbed a bruise on the side of his head, and winced in pain from the touch. He gulped in air and ran back toward the mountain and Lana and the man who was dragging her up its slopes. Snow still fell serenely, at odds with what was happening here. Will ran faster than he thought he was capable of until he reached the point where he'd last seen his quarry. He looked through his small rifle scope but saw nothing ahead, so he urgently scoured the ground for the footprints he'd seen earlier. He found them, now under a powdering of fresh snow, and sprinted onward. His feet trampled over the route that Lana and the man had taken.

The ground rose sharply, causing Will to slow. He looked left and right, trying to find any evidence of a mountain track to aid his ascent, but everything around him was wild and inhospitable.

Five or six bullets hit snow-covered ground in rapid succession to his left. They were wide of their mark, and Will knew that they'd come from an automatic weapon. But he also knew that he'd been momentarily spotted by at least one of the hostiles behind him. He looked down at the footprints and saw that they followed an almost straight route up the mountain. Will thought for a moment. He made a decision and ran to the right of the tracks as fast as the severity of the grade would allow him to. After traveling for three hundred meters, he stopped, breathing heavily. He turned, sat down on the snowy slope, calmed his breathing, and scoured the area below him through his rifle scope. Everywhere was beautiful, with the Saranac Lakes in the distance, the hills around them, a carpet of pure white snow covering all ground and trees. Will ignored the beauty of his surroundings and focused on finding the man who had shot at him so that he could kill him.