Counter-Strike (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Novel Book 2) (15 page)

Chapter 38

Marco flew around the periphery of the
Jakarta Airport looking for an inconspicuous place to land where they wouldn’t
be immediately greeted by airport security for setting down an unregistered
helo. Spying a small hangar near the southwest corner, a mile from the main
terminal, he circled and set the Huey down beside a large Quonset hut. As the
rotors wound down, Von and Mitch hopped out onto the tarmac, their noses
assaulted by the smell of hot asphalt. A slender man with gray chin whiskers
stepped out from the shade of a service bay and walked over. Wiping a greasy
hand on his stained coveralls, he looked at them with curiosity while studying
the antiquated helicopter.

“This area isn’t for helo service. You’ll
have to move that bird.”

Von trotted up to him. “I’m with Interpol.
We’ve got an emergency and need to leave it here.”

The man looked at Dev, who was being
escorted off by David and Petra. He glanced at her bloodied side and then
yelled to one of his men inside the hangar to bring the jeep over.

The mechanic raced over to the helo in an
olive-drab jeep with a cracked windshield. They helped get Dev inside then
drove the group into the shade of the hangar.

“Just saw another bird like this one set
down a little ways off from here. What’s going on?” said the older man,
pointing to a distant set of hangars to his right.

After lowering Dev onto the cool cement of
the bay, Petra retrieved some water and clean rags.

Von pulled Mitch aside from the crowd and
walked over to the entrance. “I’m gonna trot over to where the other Huey was
supposed to have landed and see if there’s any sign of Redstrom.”

“If I can help, you know where to find
me.”

Von nodded and ran off across the
airfield, keeping close to the supply crates next to some small planes and then
disappearing between the distant buildings.

As Mitch turned to walk back inside, he
caught a glimpse of eight men boarding a dilapidated school bus to his left, a
hundred yards away from the hangar. Each man was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt
and all were carrying identical blue backpacks that resembled the type he had
seen back at the jungle lab. He watched the door close and the struggling vehicle
sputter off towards the main airport terminal a mile away.

Chapter 39

Mitch moved back towards Dev’s location,
seeing that she was stable, then patted his fist on Marco’s shoulder, nodding for
him to follow him to the jeep. The two men tossed their packs inside and Mitch
took the passenger’s seat while he indicated he wanted Marco to drive the open
top rig. They backed out of the hangar, squealing the tires while the older man
ran at them, waving his fists and yelling. Marco did an abrupt turn and shifted
the stick into first gear, speeding off towards the bus.

“We need to ensure that tour bus has a one-way
ticket. Take us out beyond them a few hundred yards then spin this jeep
around.” He rummaged through his pack for the grenade he had retrieved from one
of the dead mercenaries and placed it on the passenger’s seat alongside his
pistol. He checked the magazine and realized he only had two bullets left.

“Any rounds left in your Glock?” Mitch
said.

“Nah, I’m dry.”

Marco drove the jeep alongside the bus, while
Mitch hunched over, trying to get a glimpse of the faces inside. He could make
out a few of the mercenaries who were giving him puzzled looks as they pressed
their faces into the dirty windows. Glancing back at him in the sideview mirror
of the bus was the large man who had been flogging Von earlier. The man saw him
and started to turn the bus into the jeep. Marco swerved and sped up,
overtaking the cumbersome vehicle while racing past an abandoned garage. He put
it in fifth gear and gained a few hundred yards then turned abruptly, coming to
a screeching halt. Mitch stood up, sitting back on the headrest of his seat and
aiming his pistol sights on the right front tire of the bus, waiting until the
distance closed enough at the fifty yard mark to fire off a single round. The
resulting blowout caused the vehicle to careen sideways, crashing into a cluster
of fifty-five-gallon barrels beside a small refueling station.

Mitch slid back into his seat and yelled
at Marco to punch the ignition, speeding towards the front of the bus. Yanking
the pin from the round grenade, he held onto the windshield frame and stood up,
lobbing the grenade under the driver’s side of the bus while Marco immediately arced
the steering wheel to the right, frantically shifting the gears and grinding
the engine from his efforts as he raced away. The men, their deadly payload of
canisters, metal girders, and luggage were all embroiled in flame.

The shockwave from the explosion shattered
the windshield glass in the jeep, sending a spray of shards outward while the
jeep fishtailed as Marco tried to prevent it from overturning. Both men lurched
forward, turtling up their shoulders. For a second, Mitch thought the jeep was
going to get airlifted as the explosion rippled through the air. The sides of
his skull were reeling from the blast and his vision blurred for a moment.

When he had gained enough distance, Marco
disengaged the clutch and brought the jeep to a rolling stop. The two men
stepped out, flicking the glass splinters from their shirts while looking at
the orange mushroom cloud in the distance. The bus was completely enveloped in the
conflagration as fuel from the gas pumps roiled like an orange python into the
cloudless sky.

Chapter 40

Crenna was standing under the cooling fan in
the bay of an air-parcel delivery company. It was one he had used in the past
for running small arms to rebels in Burma and he had made sure that the area
was cleared of personnel for the next hour while he awaited transportation. He
was sure Redstrom was going to launch a bio-attack in a heavily populated area
like the airport or perhaps at the trade delegation which was unfolding that
afternoon. If he could head him off and remove him from the equation, he’d be
hailed as a hero and could retire in glory while silencing the one man who
could be his undoing.

Crenna was hunched over his cellphone,
glancing with irritation at the voluminous number of messages from Quint. “Fuck
her and the feminist face of the CIA. I’ll go over her head on any allegations she
tries to stick on me. The Senate Oversight Committee would love to get some
dirt of some kind on that bitch and I’m sure she’s got plenty.”

He heard the steel door to his right open
and pulled his eyes up quickly. “This area is under a secure lockdown for now,”
he said to the officer in the shadows who was walking towards him.

Crenna looked down at his phone again,
waiting for the call from his driver to come through. “Your services aren’t
needed here, Officer. I’m in charge of overseeing this warehouse for Interpol
so everything is in good hands.” He removed his fake identification and flippantly
held it up to the approaching figure.

The officer came into the light and flung
a bloody knife on the ground near Crenna’s shoes, some wine-colored droplets
landing on the polished brown leather near the laces. “Your driver and the two
men outside won’t be coming to your rescue, I’m afraid.”

Crenna slowly depressed the off-switch on
the phone and moved his eyes along the knife and across the cracks in the
cement until he traced his sight up the creased black pants and buttoned shirt
of the man whose face he’d hoped would provide a different match from the
dreadful voice he was hearing burst through the cobwebs in his head.

Kyle Redstrom was standing with his hands
on his hips, his gaze penetrating through Crenna’s cranium like a diamond
bullet. “You can’t imagine the joy I experienced when I saw you enter this
building. I can honestly say that that’s the first time in years that I’ve felt
an honest-to-God emotion.” He snapped his fingers and blinked hard. “I mean, a
real heart-tugging emotion at seeing an old friend like you.”

Crenna began brushing his left hand across
his jacket to access his pistol but the younger man closed the distance
instantly like electricity had surged from under his feet. Kyle struck him in
the throat with a spear-hand, causing the windpipe to buckle. Crenna collapsed
back on the slate-gray table, gagging for air while Kyle remove the pistol from
the older man’s waistline and slammed the butt of it against the delicate bones
in the man’s hand. Crenna emitted a wheezy shriek, still trying to breathe in
between his agonizing groans.

Kyle bent down and picked up the soiled
knife, dragging the dripping blade across Crenna’s jacket lapel. “You’re really
causing me to curtail my plans this week, Darren. You know, after I was going
to stroll through the halls of the trade delegation in Jakarta and spread the
virus around, I had planned to use the antidote on myself because I wanted to
finish out the day by watching your illustrious career go down in flames once
this was all traced back to you.”

Crenna leaned on one elbow, looking up at
his tormenter. “You think that the agency is gonna take the word of a double agent
who sold secrets to China over what I tell them and what’s already been
documented with your case?”

Kyle slashed him across the left thigh,
the layers of muscles underneath unfurling like ribbons. Crenna sank to the
floor, filling every inch of the cavernous warehouse with his raspy screams.
Kyle bent down and shoved his cupped hand over the man’s mouth. “I had once
dreamt of kidnapping you outside your house, when you walk up from that lovely
white-and-blue-trim garage to your two-story mansion with the elm trees by the
back door. Oh, I was going to bring you to a rented warehouse a lot like this
one,” he said, pausing to look up at his surroundings before continuing. “Then,
I was going to put you on an IV and keep you alive for weeks while I fileted
you. The longest I’d ever observed a person surviving that in the prison you
sent me to was eight days but with some quality barbiturates and intermittent
medical care, I was hoping that we could sustain you for a month
—
far
more than my wife lasted.”

He released his hand from Crenna’s mouth
as the wounded figure began sobbing. “I didn’t know they were going to take
your wife. That was not my doing. You have to believe me. I thought you’d be executed
shortly after you were captured.”

He brushed his hands over Crenna’s
wool-like hair. “Oh, you poor thing. You’ve had a guilty conscience for too
long. You’ve carried around too much of this burden, haven’t you?” Kyle thrust
the blade forward, removing the top half of Crenna’s right ear. “Let me lighten
your load some.”

Kyle shuffled back a few feet as the blood
from the wounds kept leaking on the floor, creating a small pool under Crenna.
He tilted his head at the leg wound. “Shit, I may have nicked the femoral
artery on that slice. Not good, Darren. A man in your advanced age bracket is
gonna need urgent medical care.”

He moved forward and raised the blade up,
his eyes fixed on the man’s jugular region. “I do have an appointment downtown
to keep so it’s time to say our goodbyes, old friend.”

His downward thrust was diverted by the
sting of a bullet round grazing the rear of his shoulder. He dropped the knife
on the pavement and spun around, firing his pistol in the direction of the
shot. Another round pierced the table near his head. Kyle backpedaled behind
some wood boxes as a barrage of gunfire splintered the wood around him. He
weaved through the tangle of crates and bolted for the rear exit door, catching
a glimpse of Von moving towards Crenna’s nearly lifeless figure slumped on the
ground. Kyle kicked open the door and raced into the parking lot, clutching his
hand over his bleeding deltoid as he looked for a place to hide. He only had to
wait another hour until the virus became active in his bloodstream. He couldn’t
risk another battle.

Chapter 41

After landing with Mitch and the others,
Von had made his way past several derelict warehouses until he saw an identical
Huey helicopter near a row of Quonset structures. The passengers had already
disembarked but he saw a vehicle slowly pulling away from the helo with a
single individual sitting in the back seat. The vehicle sped away then suddenly
stopped near an air-parcel delivery building. As Von trotted the half mile to
catch up to his quarry, weaving between buildings to cover his passage, he
noticed a man wearing a police constable’s uniform emerge and make his way
towards the rear door of the building. He surmised it had to be Redstrom, posing
as law-enforcement to gain entrance to the upcoming trade delegation. Only why
was he stopping at this building? Something of significant value to complete
his mission must be inside.

A few minutes later, after entering the
warehouse and driving Redstrom off, he moved to the side of his severely
injured boss. While Von began shoving shop towels on the man’s gaping leg wound
he thought back to what Redstrom had revealed to him about Crenna’s involvement
in Beijing and then about the recent kill squad that had been sent to eliminate
everyone at the jungle base.

Outside the building he thought he heard
the clouds groan with thunder but then saw the orange cloud of an explosion
fill the blue sky outside the bay windows, the tumult rocking the heavens mirroring
his own inner turmoil.

Crenna’s airway had recovered enough for
him to speak clearly though he was still wincing in pain with each word he
spoke. “Just in time
—
good job, Von. That murderous traitor would have
done me in in another minute.”

“Like you did when you sent those mercs in
today to obliterate all the evidence, including me?”

“What the hell did Redstrom fill your head
with? You know I’ve always had your back.”

 Von pulled back the drenched towel from
the oozing inner thigh. He could see the faint white of the femur and knew the
excessive bleeding was probably due to a partial sever to the femoral. Crenna
gave him a knowing look and nodded to a red phone on the wall.

“Call for an ambulance and we can sort
this all out later.”

Von placed the towel back on the leg and
moved Crenna’s one good hand over the top of the improvised gauze. He stood up
and took a step towards the phone then looked down at his boss. He’d been
brought up the ranks by this senior agent but had never felt like he could
trust the man. Now, if Crenna lived, Von would either be implicated in the
man’s nefarious undertakings or be forced by Quint to testify against him.
Either way, Von knew his career would be over. And even if he did survive this
and continue on, he saw himself sprawled out on the floor in a similar setting
thirty years from now.

“Go on, boy, make the call. I’m a fuckin’
mess.”

Von stepped back and stood over Crenna,
the blood throbbing out from under the soaked towel. “I used to think that what
we did, what I did, mattered, like I was some fucking Boy Scout who could fix
the faulty parts of the world.”

Crenna arched his head up, his face growing
pale. “Get me a medic, goddammit!”  

Von squatted, resting his arms on his
knees, glancing at the exit door. “I’ve still gotta clean up your mess and take
down Redstrom before it’s too late. I’m not going to kill you but I’m not going
to save you either.”

The older man slumped back against the leg
of the table, frothy spittle coming out from his lips as he spoke. “You think
you’re better than me.” His breathing became shallow and his voice crackled.
Von stood and trotted towards the exit, his pistol at a low-ready, never
looking back at the wheezing figure.

“I made you. You were nothing
—
nothing
before you met me.” Crenna’s eyelids fluttered and his chin sank into his chest
as he squeaked out his last breath.