Counter-Strike (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Novel Book 2) (14 page)

Chapter 35

After Mitch exited the building, he and
Marco laid down a suppressing fire towards the treeline where the battle was
unfolding. A few of the men in black were strafing them with rounds while
trying to keep the remaining Suma mercenaries from advancing. As they ran for
the treeline, he saw Von perform a long-distance headshot with his pistol,
taking out a Suma mercenary who’d crept out from a nearby building.

Petra and David had swung around and
killed four of the men on both sides and regrouped with Mitch and the others near
the edge of the jungle. Once he was certain they had gained some distance, Mitch
told the group to halt near the airfield. He knelt down near a fallen tree
whose massive root system resembled the petrified tentacles of a squid. Mitch
studied the area around the remaining Huey helicopter, a carryover from the
Vietnam War. Miles away in the cloudy sky, he saw another helicopter heading
away. Then the base behind them ignited in a fiery explosion, shaking the
ground and sending a blast of concrete and body parts throughout the skyline.

He leaned back, looking at Dev, who was
slightly conscious, then down at her wound. Her breathing was shallow and her
skin ashen. Mitch knew her wound was severe and hoped she’d be able to hold on
a little longer. He crept out a few feet and went through the vest of one of
the dead mercenaries lying in the grass. He remove a grenade and some magazines
but the man’s AR had a jagged rifle round through the damaged chamber and he
tossed the now useless mags aside.

He put his hand on Marco’s shoulder. “You
still remember how to fly one of those birds, I hope?”

“Yeah, no sweat, amigo. You cover my ass
while I zip across this open area and fire that bitch up.”

Mitch nodded then both men studied the
surrounding jungle treeline again for any movement.

“Here we go,” said Marco. He squat-ran across
the ankle-high rice grass.

Once the engines sputtered to life, Mitch
raised his hand for the group to move forward. The two Israeli warriors carried
Dev while Mitch and Von provided rear cover support. They quickly retreated
inside the cabin and strapped themselves in, the barely conscious Dev leaning
against Mitch’s shoulder.

Mitch leaned forwards and handed his
canteen to Schueller, who was in the front seat, then shouted above the rotor
wash at Von, who was inspecting a comma-shaped cut on his shoulder.

“Better patch some of those lacerations
up. Things go septic here in the tropics fast though I’m guessing you already
know that.” Mitch tossed him what remained of his trauma kit.

“Yeah, will do.”

“So, you wanna tell me what the hell you
were doing strung up from the ceiling back there?”

“I work with Interpol. I conduct training
on how to identify smugglers for different government agencies. I was abducted
a few nights ago while returning from a visit to the coastline. Thank God you
found me when you did. I don’t know how much longer I would’ve lasted.”

Mitch’s expression went stolid and he
slowly raised the barrel of his AK towards Von’s chest. “One thing a cowboy
like me can’t stand is a dishonest bastard who’d lie right to your face. Because
you sure as hell look like the guy I saw at the airport in Munich a few days
ago and then later in Kuala Lumpur, not to mention that I haven’t met too many Interpol
workers who can make sixty-yard headshots. So, try again, because if I think
you’re a serious threat to me and my friends, I got no problem having you go
airborne.”

“Alright, alright,” Von said, placing his
hands up in the air. “One can’t be too safe with who you’re divulging
information to. I work for a task force that’s been trying to track down
terrorist groups operating out of remote jungle training camps in Indonesia. I
was on the trail of Jessica Yin in Europe, a known associate of Kyle Redstrom, the
man who kidnapped me from my hotel in KL a few nights ago.” Von patted the red
welt on his neck. “A blowgun dart with sedatives can undo most of your training
pretty quick.”

“Uh-huh, task force, eh
—
got it.”
Mitch shook his head. This guy seemed like a slick con-man who was used to
sliding in and out of multiple personalities and cover stories. He’d worked
with a few guys involved with clandestine agencies over the years and they
always had a certain oily approach to the way they fielded every question. “You’re
a spook’s more like it
—
a fucking assassin trained by our government.”

Mitch gave him a stern look before Von
could respond. “So were you sent here to extract Schueller and kill that
leather-faced thug in the Banana Republic suit back at the lab or just
eliminate everyone involved?”

“Schueller has been a person of interest
from the beginning but I didn’t know he was involved with Redstrom until I was
abducted and taken to the facility.”

“Bob wasn’t involved with that lunatic.
His whole life has been about bettering the world not bringing it to an end.”

“Sounds like you know the man
—
well.”
Von sighed, his vision fixating on a small brown beetle sliding underneath the
seat, then he looked back up at Mitch. “Sometimes the people we think we know well
possess a wealth of masks. Redstrom wouldn’t be able to weaponize a virus by
himself though he had most of what he needed. Schueller was the missing link.”

“And who the fuck is this Redstrom? Is he
a former Interpol guy too?”

“Something like that. He was affiliated
with the U.S. government at one time but then was tossed into a Chinese prison
for two years after a deal went south.”

“So he fucked up an op and his employers threw
him to the wolves. Now he’s out for payback.”

Von didn’t answer but continued to dab
gauze on his laceration. “I need to get to some comms so I can relay a message
out about a potential attack Redstrom is planning.”

“Where
—
where’s the attack going to
be launched?”

“I have a strong hunch that Jakarta will
be the target. That is where the Trans-Pacific Trade Delegation is going to
meet tomorrow. Even POTUS will be there. That’s where I’d hit.”

“You seem to know a lot about how a guy
like this would think.” Mitch clutched his AK and canted his head. “Yeah,
you’re a CIA or NSA guy or with some division within a division that has no nameplate
on its office door. Is ‘Von’ even your real name
—
or have you forgotten
what that is by now you’ve been lost in the shadows for so long.”

Again, Von didn’t answer but just gave a
nod towards the canopy below. “We shouldn’t delay if this rescue session is to
have any meaning beyond saving your buddy and me.”

Mitch lowered his pack and dug into a side
pocket then handed him a satellite phone. “I want that back so call your boss
or whoever you need to alert them about the threat.”

While Von moved a few feet over near the
door where the satellite phone would have reception, the rotor wash drowned out
his voice to the others as he vehemently relayed his message. Mitch kept his
rifle fixed on the man, feeling a tug on his belt loop. He turned and saw Dev trying
to force out a faint smile.

“I have to agree with your suspicions
about him being a covert operative,” said Dev in a low whisper.

“It takes one to spot one, eh.”

A few minutes later Von handed the phone
to Mitch. “What did Langley say?”

Von smirked then put his hands on his
hips. “They agreed that Jakarta is a good bet. They’ll have some support there
shortly after we arrive.” Von was about to sit down but instead extended his
hand. “Thanks for coming along when you did. I owe you one.”

Mitch responded with a hearty handshake. “I
wish you and Interpol a world of luck,” he said with a frown as he leaned
forward to check on Bob. Schueller was groaning as his eyes fluttered open. He
creaked out a welcome grin at Mitch then reached out his hand and patted his
friend on the arm. “Let me guess, my wife sent you. She worries too much.”

“Somebody has to.” The two men chuckled.

“What was Redstrom brewing up back there?”
said Von.

Schueller looked at the man with raised
eyebrows, then at Mitch. “Don’t worry, he’s with the government,” said Mitch
with a wink.

“He had me working on the final strand of
a deadly viral load that he had acquired from the Chinese somehow. He needed me
to weaponize it.”

The men all shot nervous glances at each
other. “And did you?” said Von.

“Yes and no.” Schueller cleared his throat
and sat erect. “I completed the viral strain. It is definitely weaponized but
the current form will remain dormant in the carrier for forty-eight hours, not six
hours as he was led to believe.”

Dev moved closer. “So, anyone exposed to
it won’t become contagious until long after they’ve disembarked from their
flight, assuming he’s going to the airport still.”

“Yes, that’s right. I bought us some time
to stop the spread if people actually become exposed but we need to prevent it
from becoming airborne in the first place. He also injected himself with the
same strain so he could become a carrier though all he got was a modified
chickenpox virus that I made up from his samples.”

“Is there an antidote for the lethal
pathogen?” said Petra.

“Not here. Back at the CDC in Atlanta,
maybe. I don’t know, this is a little-known virus that our Asian counterparts
developed, though Redstrom may have one that he obtained with the original
sample he had.”

“For Redstrom, I’ve got the cure right
here,” Mitch said, patting his AK.

***

While the others were attending to their
injured friends, Von huddled close to the door and stared out the window. The
call he made had been to the CIA’s Pacific Command in Singapore. Upon entering
his agent code and the password, he was immediately routed to CIA Headquarters
in Langley. The voice of Natalie Quint came on, informing him of Crenna’s
disappearance and asking for an update on his location. He’d only seen Quint a
few times on weekly Skype briefings during inter-agency meetings. Von recalled
their phone conversation, her words still bouncing around the foggy chambers of
his mind.

“It has been recently divulged that Crenna
has been involved in treasonous acts that could compromise the agency. Are you
in touch with him still?”

“No, but I believe he is headed to Jakarta
to kill Redstrom.”

“Bringing both of them back for
questioning…it could be very ugly for everyone involved. Will you be able to do
what is necessary to stop them?”

“Ma’am?”

“I’ve studied your files. You’re known for
your exceptional ability to improvise to get the job done, regardless of the
cost. Am I right?”

Von took a deep breath, trying not to let
his exhalation filter into the speaker. “What are your orders?”

“I’m not giving any. Did it sound like I
was? You’re an experienced operator and highly trained to determine the best
course of action when our country, our government is facing a severe threat. I
trust you will make the right decision.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Von?” She paused for a long moment.
“Never underestimate an older agent in a profession where most die young.”

The phone went silent and he powered it
off. He felt the agency’s hands reaching around his throat. His entire being
revolted at what he had become under Crenna’s tutelage and now what Quint was
requesting of him. He tried to think back on the person he had been before the
agency but the memory eluded his grasp like sand in the wind. Now he was going
to be Quint’s bitch until she saw a need to discard him and cover her own
tracks. With his background in anti-smuggling, he knew how to get out of a
country and then disappear and the thought crossed his mind briefly. But he
knew he’d spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulders. Beyond the
imperative need to stop Redstrom from spreading the virus, Von knew he would
have to tread carefully with anything he did from here on out. He ran his
finger over his pocket, feeling for the flash drive that he had extracted from
Redstrom’s computer then sucked in a deep breath, moving back towards the weathered
ex-soldier who had rescued him.

Chapter 37

Soekarno-Hatta International Airport was
located on the northwest edge of Jakarta near the Java Sea. It was the largest
airport in Indonesia and considered a mega hub in Asia, ranking as one of the
eight busiest airports in the world. It ran over capacity during most weeks and
typically had around seventeen thousand travelers a day. Kyle ran through all
these statistics again as he rubbed the injection site on his arm and fixed his
eyes on the approaching tarmac near the outer edge of the airport. He tapped
his pilot, Carlos, on the shoulder, pointing to an abandoned parts warehouse.
Next to the building was one of Kyle’s men standing next to a green Hyundai. He
looked to be around nineteen and had an anemic goatee.

He glanced back at the eight men in the
cabin, each of them staring pensively at the main terminal in the distance.
Resting in their laps were identical blue backpacks that contained a single
canister of the aerosolized pathogen. Each canister was set with the same timer
and dispersal system, calibrated to release the virus in exactly two hours.
This would allow his men enough time to place the devices in separate terminals
throughout the airport and permit them time to escape the region. He assured
them that they would be paid their remaining funds after the attack, when their
service was complete. Kyle shook his head as he turned around
. I remember
the days when you could get assets to subscribe to a cause through the use of
religious ideology or political unrest. Now, everyone wants something in a
Cayman Island account.

When the Huey set down, he disembarked and
motioned his men to follow him over to his car.

“There is a vacant tour bus waiting for
you two hundred meters to the west of here,” he said, pointing over his
shoulder to a distant row of buildings. “Carlos will drive you all to the main
terminal where you will then separate and go to your respective locations
outside of the boarding area. From there, place the canisters in the air ducts
within the restrooms and then you’re done.”

He put his hands on his hips and circled
around the men as if looking at prize stallions. “You men are the best of the
best and have served me well. You shall be well compensated once you’ve
completed your tasks. My hat goes off to you for your service.”

Kyle moved towards the front of them again
and raised his hands. “Now go and congratulate yourselves on being a part of
the new world that is about to be ushered in.”

The eight mercenaries walked in a cluster
behind Carlos, who led them between the buildings towards the tour bus. Kyle
motioned to the young man who had driven his car to get inside and head to
downtown Jakarta. In the back seat, Kyle opened a metallic suitcase and removed
a police officer’s uniform
—
the standard blue shirt and black pleated
pants used by patrolmen in the city. He pulled of his sticky cotton t-shirt
while the driver’s eyes up front widened in the rearview mirror at the sight of
so much scar tissue covering his employer’s upper extremities.

Nearing the edge of the first cluster of
hangars, Kyle finished buttoning up his new shirt, his fingertips fumbling the
last button as his face tensed at the sight across from them. He whispered in
Malay for the driver to stop while he studied the almost surreal figure of
Darren Crenna entering a warehouse. Kyle held his breath like a sniper before a
long-range shot, his heart nearly punching through his chest as he confirmed to
his doubting vision that his old mentor was in his crosshairs. He looked down
at his watch. “Four hours left.”

“Excuse me, sir?” said the driver.

“Nothing
—
just talking to myself
about an appointment with destiny that I had only now it seems I’m going to
have a pleasantly full schedule.”