V Plague (Book 11): Merciless (32 page)

With those thoughts running through my head, I quickly checked out the next flight of stairs and continued up.  There were no trip wires.  No little electronic devices that would detect my movement and sound an alarm.  Nothing.  Just more steps.

We paused on six as I checked the next flight, then resumed our painfully slow ascent.  Still nothing, and I clamped down tighter on the lens to completely mute the light as we reached the seventh floor.  The stairs made a turn at each landing and we were standing directly beneath the small platform outside the door into the top floor hallway.

Absent any traps, I was worried that a man had been stationed inside the stairwell.  Sitting in the silent darkness, waiting for some unsuspecting trespasser to come along.  If there was a guard on the next landing, we had a problem.  We were trapped inside a tall, narrow concrete box.  It would be like shooting fish in a barrel for him if he opened up with his rifle.

Pausing on the landing, I placed my hand on Rachel to let her know we were stopping.  Standing there, I closed my eyes, even though it was pitch black, and listened.  Calmed my heart and focused on the environment around me.  I could hear Rachel’s soft breath from only a few feet away.  A faint sound of the wind sighing around the exterior of the building.  But nothing else.

Remaining perfectly still, I kept listening.  Hoping to hear the scrape of a boot on concrete.  Or the rasp of fingernails as a sentry scratched an itch.  A soft snore would be most welcome.  But I heard nothing.  Either there was a very disciplined soldier waiting above our heads, or I was right and they were all well into a bottle by now.

After nearly ten minutes, I decided it was time to move.  Now I had a problem.  Just because I’d heard nothing, it didn’t mean there wasn’t a guard waiting at the top of the next flight of stairs.  I needed to perform a visual check for traps.  But, if I uncovered the small light, even a sliver, it would be like turning on a brilliant beacon in the perfect darkness.

I stood there for another minute, evaluating the options and not caring for either.  Use the light to check for a tripwire and give away our presence and location, or don’t use it and risk being blown into a few dozen pieces by a waiting IED.

The behavior of the guard in the garage finally swayed my decision.  He had been careless, using a light, drinking and smoking.  Sure, he hadn’t really been expecting to be attacked, but that was no excuse.  It spoke volumes about his mindset.  Frankly, I was more than a little surprised.

Russian Spetsnaz are elite troops.  Very well trained and disciplined.  No matter what I’d like to think, they are probably every bit as good as any of their western counterparts.  And this was totally out of character for any special operator.  But, just maybe, I’d run across some guys that were disillusioned and war weary.  Ready to toss in the towel and let the world do what it wanted.  It can happen to the best of men. 

With a deep breath, I opened my hand and lit up the interior of the stairwell.  If there was a sentry waiting, this would spur him to action.  The door to the seventh floor was right behind me.  If I heard even the slightest noise from above, I was prepared to yank it open and dash to safety.  But there was no reaction, even when I waved the light around.  Releasing a quiet breath, I moved closer to the stairs and looked them over.  And found the trap I was worried about.

It was on the third step from the bottom.  A length of clear, monofilament fishing line, no thicker than a strand of hair, was stretched from the wall to the railing.  It was taut, suspended a few inches above the tread of the step, but below the next, so it was well hidden.  If I hadn’t seen a brief glint of reflected light, I might have missed it.

Moving closer, I traced the line to a trigger inserted into a small block of Semtex.  Stretch the wire more than a few millimeters and it would activate the circuit in the trigger and fire the blasting cap.  A fraction of a second later, whoever was standing on the step would be turned into a large, red jelly stain on the concrete wall.

Waving Rachel to a halt, I carefully disarmed the trap.  For me, this removed all doubt that the Russians were on the top floor.  Moving slowly, I kept climbing, carefully examining each step before placing my foot on it.  Just because I’d found one booby trap didn’t mean there wouldn’t be another. 

In fact, I expected to encounter an additional one placed specifically to catch someone who had dropped their guard.  It’s human nature to think we’re safe after finding and eliminating a danger.  We don’t want to believe there could be something else, just as bad, or worse, waiting around the next corner.

I found the next one right after the stairs turned for the final approach to the top floor.  It was the same as the first, and was carefully disarmed.  I breathed a quiet sigh of relief when we reached the eighth floor landing. 

Using the light, I carefully examined the entire perimeter of the steel fire door.  No window in this one.  Just a heavy slab of layered steel set into a thick, concrete wall.  I didn’t find anything that shouldn’t have been there.

Now came the riskiest part.  Opening the door.  It could be wired with more explosives that would detonate before I even knew I’d tripped a wire.  There could be a guard on the other side, ready to open fire. 

There are no easy ways around these little problems.  At least not with the equipment I had.  All you can do is go through and hope for the best.  But there was no reason to risk both our lives.  Turning, I lead Rachel back to the seventh floor landing and pulled her close to mumble in her ear.

“Stay here until I get the door open,” I said.

“Why?” 

She wasn’t privy to my thoughts, and having never trained for this type of situation, didn’t understand my concerns.

“The door could be wired, or there could be a guard on the other side.  If things go bad, you run.  The keys are in the Jeep in the garage, and it should get you to the Hummer.”

As I spoke, I pressed the sat phone into her hand, then the Athena Project file.

“Jessica’s number is programmed in,” I said.  “If you’re on your own, call her.  She’ll get you to safety.”

“No,” Rachel said.  “We’re not splitting up.”

“Only if something bad happens when I open that door,” I reassured her.  “No reason to risk both of us.”

The light was still on and I could see the fear in her eyes when she pulled her head back to look at me.  After a moment, she leaned closer and kissed me.  When our lips parted, I gave her a smile and climbed back to the eighth floor.

42

I took a deep breath and held it before depressing the release with my thumb.  It moved easily for a short distance, then I felt resistance as the latch began to open.  Using my other hand to grasp the sides of the small lever, I controlled its travel so it didn’t make a click when fully engaged.

The light was off, so I didn’t have much hope of seeing a tripwire once I cracked the door open.  I might turn it on once there was a gap large enough to peek through.  Cautiously, I pulled and there was a soft, sucking sound as the seal at the bottom pulled free of the threshold.

Pausing, I waited for any reaction from the other side.  When there was none, I pulled again until there was a one-inch gap along the edge of the jam.  I made sure to stay behind the protection of the steel door.  Light spilled through the opening and, after a few seconds of careful listening, I pressed my eye against it to get a view of the hall.
 

Across from the exit, a Russian sat sleeping in a chair that appeared to have been brought out from one of the rooms.  A rifle was across his lap, chin resting on his chest as he softly snored.  On the floor next to him was a battery powered lantern, turned to its lowest setting, and a nearly empty bottle.  Thank God for vodka.

The presence of a sentry gave me confidence that the door wasn’t rigged with a trap, but I still took the time to check as best I could.  Not finding anything, I slowly opened it far enough to stick my head through.  Looked both ways up and down the carpeted corridor.  I saw nothing other than closed doors within reach of the light cast by the lantern, darkness stretching out beyond.

Drawing my knife, I slipped through the opening and held the door with one hand until it silently closed behind me.  Another quick check around, and I took a long stride across the hall.  I didn’t make a sound, but something must have alerted the sleeping guard.  Perhaps a change in the air from the door opening and closing.  Maybe the smell of the blood and sweat that soaked my clothing.

As I reached out, he lifted his head and looked directly into my eyes.  His mouth began to open as he fumbled for his weapon, then my left hand clamped across his face and I rammed the blade of my Ka-Bar into his throat.  His body went rigid, pain and fear reflecting in his eyes as I twisted the knife.

Pulling it out, I stabbed into his chest, coming up underneath his sternum.  Working the blade around, the steel pierced his heart and a moment later the light in his eyes went out.  I held on as his corpse slipped out of the chair and onto the floor.  Cleaning and sheathing the knife, I raised my rifle and scanned each direction of the hall.

No doors suddenly burst open.  No shouts of alarm.  Nothing other than complete stillness.  I knew there had hardly been a whisper of a sound when I killed the Russian, but sometimes that’s all it takes to give away your presence.  But it seemed like I’d managed to remain undetected.  Four to go, at the most, I reminded myself, even though Jessica had only seen a total of four men when Irina was captured. 

Stepping to the door, I gently pushed it open and waved the light around in the stairwell to signal Rachel.  Seconds later, she was standing next to me in the hall.  She glanced at the body, then ignored it.  There had been enough death in her world for the past few months that one more corpse didn’t even register.  Now to find Irina.

Turning the lantern off, I turned on the small LED lamp and headed to the right.  The doors were controlled by battery powered, electronic locks.  I seriously doubted the Russians had been able to find a key card that would open them.  They would have chosen the most expedient method, which was to force their way in.  That should leave a clear, visible sign to tell me which room they were occupying.

Two rooms down, I found what I was looking for.  A door wasn’t fitting properly in its jam because the lock had been smashed free.  I pointed it out to Rachel, but moved past.  They might be using more than one room.

I checked the rest of the hall, not finding any other signs of forced entry.  Returning to the damaged door, I moved Rachel behind me and pressed my body against the wall on the lock side.  She placed her hand on my left shoulder, ready to follow me through, but I took the time to put my ear close to the narrow gap and listen.

After several minutes of silence, I withdrew.  Considered my options.  Go through hard and fast with the rifle up and shoot any figure that wasn’t female, or go through slow and quiet and take out the Russians one at a time.

Of course, the second choice would only work if they were all asleep.  I hadn’t heard any sounds, seemingly indicating that was the case, but it certainly wasn’t assured.  One of them could be an insomniac, sitting there staring at the wall.  And, I didn’t know the layout of the room.

Was it a suite with a separate bedroom?  Were they awake and alert, having a conversation or playing cards or telling stories about past lovers and I couldn’t hear their voices?  There was only one way to find out.  Decision made, I pulled Rachel down the hall, near the dead guard, to quietly fill her in.

We were going in slow and silent.  I would have my rifle up and ready, prepared to switch to the knife if circumstances allowed.  Rachel would be right behind me and would provide fire support if the shit really hit the fan. 

Stacked up at the edge of the door again, Rachel placed her hand on my shoulder and I moved.  In a crouch, so she had a clear lane of fire above my head, I rolled around the jam as I silently pushed the door open. 

There was a short hallway that ran past a bathroom.  Beyond was a living room and a closed door in the far wall that was probably a bedroom.  The room was dimly lit by another lantern, but I didn’t immediately see anyone and there was no reaction to the door opening.  As the hall passed the bath, the main area opened out to the left and while I was sure there was a sofa and chairs, they weren’t visible from my location.

I looked into the open door of the bathroom, bypassing it when I saw it was empty.  Rachel moved to the side as I stood, then we both stepped forward into the room.  Before we reached the open area, I signed for her to stay focused on the closed door ahead of us.  She nodded, rifle steady on her area of responsibility.

Moving faster now, I swiveled around the corner, leading with my rifle.  A figure was stretched out on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket.  I hesitated for a moment, unable to tell if it was Irina.  Crossing the small room, I got a look at short, dark hair.

Lowering the rifle, I drew my knife and stepped to the couch.  Noted a bottle on the table.  The Russian was facing away from me, asleep on his side, and I thrust the blade into the back of his head.  He twitched once, but made no sound.  Wiping the steel on the blanket, I sheathed it, raised my rifle and headed for the bedroom.  I didn’t like the possibilities of why Irina was behind a closed bedroom door with some of her captors, but tamped down the thoughts before they could distract me. 

When Rachel was ready, I gently turned the knob to release the catch.  The door shifted slightly open and I moved my hand to lay flat on its surface.  I was on the hinge side and had the best view of the room as I pushed.  Rifle up, I looked for a target. 

At first, I could see a bedside table, then the bed itself as the door swung farther open.  There was the lump of a human form beneath the covers, but again I couldn’t identify the target and wasn’t going to take a shot.  Still pushing, I scanned farther right as more of the room came into sight.