Project - 16 (38 page)

“
Her?” I said.

“
Yeah, I can't be sure but I think it's a woman. It's just a
hunch. You take care of yourself, Miller."

I shook his hand again and stuffed the memory stick into my
pocket. “Thanks, Alex. It was nice to meet you.”

“
Likewise. I'll just go and find my Aunt and say my goodbyes.
Be safe now, Miller.”

“
And you.”

At nightfall I followed the convoy of fast moving vehicles
south towards the bunker, travelling behind the medical wagons in
the CERV and wondering how the night would end. Right then I wanted
nothing more than to go home and sleep off the last few weeks. I
felt carried along by it all. I wasn't in control and it bothered
me. There was also the question of the memory stick and the
revelation that the third person in this insane puzzle was a woman.
Could I even risk following that line of thought to its logical
conclusion? The answer at that moment was no. I needed to get back
to the house and regroup, take stock, decide what to do next.
Instead, I was following a voluntary force of NSU military - the
last people I ever believed I'd be working with. It looked like the
world had gone mad.

The convoy halted near a football field ten miles from the
location of the bunker. It was an enormous open space that took in
the local park and the convoy split, parking the medical wagons in
neat rows. These units opened up at the rear, extending out in all
directions to form mobile operating theatres which the
short-staffed team began stocking with trolleys of equipment,
bandages and surgical tools the moment they could. A small force
was left behind to guard them whilst the others drove on another
five miles to break off into attack formations.

Riley was somewhere amongst those who'd driven on. We hadn't
spoken much since the General had asked for help and she'd left
with the first of the vehicles before I'd joined the convoy earlier
that day. I tried to imagine her there amongst the troops, happy
and content, eager to get back to practising her trade. I tried to
push her out of my mind but she lingered in the shadows, watching
me with those gorgeous blue eyes.

I parked the CERV near one of the wagons and caught the
attention of a green-suited medic who was speeding between the
various stations with stacks of sterilised suture packs in his
arms.

“
Can I be of any use?” I asked.

“
Here,” he said, thrusting the tower into my arms. “Two per
station and there are four stations in each wagon.”

I did as he asked and found others who needed help too -
especially the cooks who'd appeared from behind the trucks carrying
great vats of soup and bags of bread rolls. They lit gas stoves and
began warming up the food, boiling water for tea and stacking
fold-out tables with bottled water and energy bars.

"This isn't standard procedure," said a rather round looking
chef. "But we're preparing for a long siege. The fighting will be
done in waves giving units a chance to rest and restock before
going back out."

From the looks of their set-up the Russians were expecting
serious casualties. I hadn't been invited to any of the briefings.
I didn't know what the enemy numbers were but judging by the amount
of equipment on the ground they must have bolstered their ranks
since Riley's attack. The Russians, likewise, were taking no
chances.

By the time the first explosions reached our ears there was a
surgeon stood waiting at each area, briefing their own teams. I
went to the nearest one and asked what help I might be able to
give.

“
Keep the grit coming,” he said in a thick accent. “Get some
gloves on and be ready to start dumping soiled dressings into the
bins over there. Other than that, leave the life or death bit to
us, okay?”

“
Yeah, I think I understand.”

We waited in silence as the gunfire went from sporadic to
constant; a rhythmic thud-thud-thud of semi-automatic fire
accompanied by the percussion of rocket and cannon. It felt close,
very close, but I knew in some respect that it wasn't. It was
somewhere else, somewhere miles from me and the problems I faced. I
felt detached. I felt empty, like I was in a void, trapped, only
able to stare out of my prison into their world - the world of guns
and bombs and love.

"It's a strange thing, isn't it?" said a surgeon next to me.
"We're here and they're over there and they'll have their own
medics on standby just like us. They'll be waiting too. Waiting for
the dead and the dying. Just like us."

"Life's tough," I replied.

"I suppose so. It doesn't have to be."

"Are you saying you don't agree with this? I thought you guys
volunteered."

"We did. It doesn't mean I have to agree with the General's
policy. I'm here to patch them up until they break themselves
again. I'll always go with whichever unit has the most risk.
Ibromavich won hands-down this time."

"Do you trust him?" I asked. He nodded
emphatically.

"Yes - most definitely. I was with his team in Sierra Leone
and Australia He always puts his men first. He's an admirable
man."

"Admirable enough to trust with something
important?"

The surgeon cocked an eyebrow. "All these people trust him
with their lives or they wouldn't be here. Is there something
wrong?"

"I'm just trying to make a decision," I said. "It isn't
easy."

"The hardest decisions are usually the most costly. I cannot
speak into your situation, but if it depends on Ibromavich in some
way then you'd be wise to trust him."

"Why?" I asked. "What makes you so sure?"

"Perhaps you know a little about us in the NSU. Maybe you
don't. While America put out its propaganda about my people,
General Ibromavich - and others like him - were out fighting
against it. We've been blamed for everything from the bombing of
this place to the flooding of New Orleans. I suspect they'd blame
us for Pearl Harbour if they could. Maybe they will one day. But
let me tell you this - through it all Ibromavich stood upright
against the tide, against the waves of criticism he received from
his superiors and calls from the public to retaliate against the
West. Its rare to find a leader who hasn't been corrupted by his
power. I found one in the General."

"You're proud of him," I said. The surgeon
laughed.

"In the West you seem to worship people for their mediocrity.
Dancers. Singers. Authors. Footballers. We worship our leaders,
people who have carried out real achievements, things to be proud
of, things that made a difference to our lives."

The roar of diesel engines drawing closer broke the
conversation and the surgeon turned to me and said:

"You'd better get ready - that'll be the first of the
wounded.

Within a few minutes the hulking APCs began spilling their
bloody cargo into the centre of the medic wagon circle. Teams with
trolleys began sliding bleeding, broken bodies onto them. The night
was torn apart by their screams and the sounds of vehicles racing
back and forth to return to the thick of the battle which raged on
towards the south. I could see the explosions and the flashes of
brilliant white light through a gap in the stands which disappeared
every time I stopped to scoop up another armful of dripping red
cloth.

“
You! Come here and hold this!” cried one of the surgeons. His
team were struggling to pin down a soldier who's arm was hanging by
a few tendons and strands of shredded muscle. I gripped his wrist
as the surgeon sliced through them and I tumbled backwards with the
arm still in my hands.

“
You have a strong stomach,” said the man as he dealt with the
bleeding stump. I threw the limb into one of the yellow bags nearby
and carried it to the bin. A thought flashed through my mind - that
if it were my arm I'd want to keep it.

The night wore on and pretty soon I was exhausted. My eyes
were heavy and when I could I'd close them, dozing on crates or
pallets until I was shouted awake again. All the time I looked from
station to station, dreading the sight of her blonde hair or her
black cotton jumper poking out from under the sheet of another
corpse.

Towards dawn the fighting began to lessen in intensity.
Reports were coming in of troops surrendering, of American
casualties about to be transported to us. We worked onwards and I
marvelled at how these skilled medics had kept up their pace for
over twelve hours and had to face possibly more - but the enemy
this time?

They started pouring in. Their uniforms were the same as
Riley had worn earlier and so the panic really did begin to set in.
It was hard not to see each corpse as having her distinctive blue
eyes or that shapely figure and in the end I bowed out, returning
to the CERV in order to shut my eyes in the driving seat and catch
my breath.

“
Sir, they're asking for you inside,” said a voice that
startled me out of a dream.

“
I'm sorry?” I said, slurring slightly with sleep.

“
The General - he wishes you to go inside and begin opening
the vault.”

“
Is it safe?” I asked.

“
The area is secure and we've just had word that the enemy
ship has been sunk. I think we won, sir.”

“
That's good news,” I said and climbed out of the CERV,
following the soldier back past the medics and into the rear of an
armoured truck. As I sat down the vehicle jerked into life and
began rolling down the road. On the floor a handful of spent
cartridges rolled past my boots, splashing blood here and
there.

The vehicle stopped and the soldier opened the door, climbing
out into a floodlit area where I saw the General waiting with his
team. He was in full combat uniform and a rifle hung loosely by his
side.

Fires were burning in many of the buildings - the ones that
were still standing. Soldiers were dragging bodies out into a
clearing, gathering weapons and ammunition into piles. Medics
rushed about here and there, caring for the desperate and the
needy.

“
I thought you might want to do this part yourself, Miller,”
he said over the racket of the truck and the sporadic firing. I
tried to smile but it wasn't happening. The General led the way
through a breach made by the Americans, down into a hallway
littered with the dead from both sides. It'd seen some of the most
intense action of the battle. “They tried to hide inside the bunker
but we rooted them out like rats,” he cried, laughing. Clearly this
side of the General didn't get out much. He led me down one
corridor, stepping over the US dead, then another until we reached
a large red door mounted in a wall behind the desk of the bunker's
MD.

“
Here we are,” he said, patting the bright red steel. “Try the
key.”

I took it from my inside pocket and slid it into the lock. It
fitted well and when I went to turn it the soldiers appeared behind
me in a neat row, their weapons raised and poised ready to fire.
The door swung open and the nearest two shot forward, aiming in
through the gap until the door was fully open.

It was even more Spartan than the other vault. In this small
room was a red case with a biohazard label on it and another disc -
and nothing else.

“
That must be it - be careful, men,” ordered the General and
the nearest soldier checked the room of anything suspicious, then
removed the case and passed him the disc. “Have it on the plane and
get it back home.”

“
Yes sir,” said the soldiers who ran back out towards the
waiting helicopter.

“
Another message, you think?” said the General.

“
Maybe,” I replied.

“
Here then,” he said and passed me the black case. “You may as
well have it. There should be a computer back at the base. Hurry
though - we'll be leaving as soon as the cargo has been verified. I
must be off this island before midday.”

“
Why the rush?” I asked.

“
NSU Command have heard about the sinking of the
Revenant
. It's going to
be my cover story in order to buy me enough time to get my people
off the island. I cannot lose a moment.”

“
I see,” I said.

“
I hope you do. What will you do now? Go back to your
home?”

“
I think so. I haven't really decided yet.”

“
The offer of a flight still stands. We can smuggle you back
to Russia if you wish. I would very much like to help a friend of
Piotr's.”

“
Thank you,” I said. "But I think I belong here for the time
being."

"I'm sorry to say this now, but I may be in touch in the
future. I've a feeling we might need a man with skills like yours
and if you're willing I'd like you to open that 'school' again."
The General offered me his hand and we shook. It was a vice-like
grip that met mine. "But enough of that. Go home. Rest. You've
earned it. The world might just owe you and your Father their
lives."

"Thanks, General."

“
You're welcome. But I also think you should
know...”

“
Yes?”

“
It's about your friend Riley. She's requested to return to
Russia with my men. She believes she may be of use to us as a
consultant.” I nodded. “This doesn't look like much of a surprise
to you, judging by your expression.”