Redemption (53 page)

He sensed she was thinking the same thing. She would have to finish this quickly, before her strength deserted her. And in that instant, he knew it would be her undoing.

Munro had come to know Anya well in the years they had served together; well enough to realise she was by nature a defensive fighter, preferring to block and evade her opponents until they made a mistake and left themselves vulnerable. She disliked taking the initiative, because it negated her ability to read body language and anticipate her opponent’s actions.

He could hardly believe it. The solution that had eluded him seven years ago was shockingly obvious now. To beat her, one simply had to let her attack.

Allowing his breathing to come louder and faster than it needed to be, he dropped his arms a little as if struggling to hold them up. Then, muscles clenched in eager anticipation, he waited for the inevitable attack.

It happened fast. Trying to capitalise on what she saw as weakness and fatigue, she rushed him, fists clenched, moving with the sinewy grace of a predator born to end lives.

Munro saw her punch coming and, reacting with speed and strength that caught her unawares, grabbed her outstretched arm and twisted it with savage force.

He had her. She couldn’t escape now.

His next blow, aimed at the bloody wound on her left side, was delivered with all the strength, all the malice, all the hatred that welled up inside him like an unstoppable tide.

There was no thought of staying silent this time, of taking the pain and maintaining her composure. Her back arched, her face twisted as her scream of agony echoed off the derelict aircraft hulks around them.

It was like music to his ears. Elation and sheer, unfettered hatred surged through him. At last, he had her at his mercy.

Mercy. She had shown him her tender mercy when she took his eye, when she murdered the men who had followed him in his bid for power.

He would show her none today.

‘I always hoped it would come down to this, Anya,’ he hissed in her ear. ‘Just the two of us, like it should be.’ Bringing his arm back, he delivered another savage punch to the bleeding wound.

She went limp in his arms, her consciousness fading as pain and darkness threatened to overwhelm her. She was done; broken and defeated at his hands. Munro hurled her to the ground like a rag doll and turned away in search of a weapon to finish her.

It didn’t take him long to spot a hydraulic pipe hanging from the landing gear of a wrecked MiG-25. A hard yank was enough to snap it free of its restraining brackets, leaving him with a 4-foot length of metal ending in a jagged, wicked point.

Perfect, Munro thought, gripping it tight as he turned on his crippled adversary.

Chapter 73

‘DIETRICH! WHAT THE
fuck’s going on?’ Frost demanded as she hurried into the makeshift command centre, sweating and out of breath. Her gaze swept over the three dead bodies littering the floor, and the woman in civilian clothes standing nearby.

Dietrich was at the computer terminal, frantically trying to make sense of the complex system. ‘Cain’s bringing in an air strike to flatten this place! Munro was working for him, and now he’s trying to kill anyone who knows the truth.’

It took her a moment to process everything she’d just heard. ‘Then we need to get the fuck out of here.’

‘They can target us no matter where we go.’ He turned to look at her. ‘But I’ve got an idea. Get over here and help me.’

‘Time on target, thirty seconds,’ the operator reported, his voice icy calm as he brought the Predator in for its attack run. ‘Missiles are hot. Laser designators active. We are weapons free.’

Kaminsky nodded. ‘Strike is authorised.’

‘Time on target, twenty seconds.’

He could see the ruined airbase on the monitors now. The cluster of control and administrative buildings, the
collapsed
hangars, and the rows of derelict aircraft destroyed years earlier.

‘Time on target, ten seconds. I have tone. Good target lock.’

This was it. In a few moments, fireballs would erupt across the base as the Predator deployed its full load of munitions.

Then, just like that, the screens went blank. All telemetry from the drone ceased as if the thing had just blinked out of existence.

Kaminsky blinked, hardly believing what he was seeing. Not again.

‘What the hell?’

Pain.

Pain and intense, burning light all around her.

Lying in a heap, Anya coughed, leaving a trail of blood on the sandy ground. Her mind was a hazy fog of agony threatening to engulf her. Yet somehow, through some supreme effort of will, she held it at bay.

Struggling to focus, she looked up as the man wrenched a length of metal pipework free from a nearby aircraft and turned towards her with murder in his eyes.

She had to get up. She had to defend herself.

Clutching the dusty ground, she tried to push herself up. Pain and weakness assailed her from all sides, blood pounded in her ears and her vision grew dim as she sank back down.

She was finished. She could do no more.

Then, through the fog of pain, she heard a voice, faint and distant, yet at the same time clear and strong. It was her own voice.

You will endure when all others fail
.

‘It’s just like I told you, Anya. Sooner or later, we all get what we deserve,’ Munro spat as his boots crunched through the sand towards her. He was taking his time, savouring the final moments of her life before he took it. ‘And you’ve had this coming for a long time.’

You will stand when all others retreat
.

A hard kick to the stomach sent her sprawling on her back, pain blossoming outward from the point of impact. He wanted to look into her eyes when he killed her.

Weakness will not be in your heart
.

‘You know something?’ He smiled as he raised the makeshift spear, staring right into those chilling blue eyes without fear. She was no threat to him now. ‘I was always better.’

Fear will not be in your creed
.

With a sudden, desperate burst of strength, she lashed out with a vicious kick to his right knee. It was a perfectly placed strike, hyper-extending the ligaments and tearing muscle. Pain exploded out from the damaged joint and he sank down, face twisted in shock and disbelief.

You will show no mercy
.

Adrenalin surged through her veins, blotting out the pain, burning away fatigue and exhaustion. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was her enemy.

You will never hesitate
.

Forcing herself up from the bloodstained ground, she turned towards Munro, ready to finish him before he recovered.

You will never surrender
.

An instant later, she froze.

Munro smiled with vicious hatred, clutching the MP5 he had been forced to drop earlier. Her sudden retaliation had crippled his knee, but it had bought him a few moments to snatch up the weapon lying half buried by the drifting sand.

His eyes gleamed as his finger tightened on the trigger.

At last, this was where it ended.

Anya winced at the loud crack as the weapon discharged, already bracing herself for the searing pain as a projectile tore through her flesh.

It never happened. To her amazement, Munro staggered back as a round slammed into his combat vest, quickly followed by a second. Turning the MP5 on his unknown attacker, he loosed a burst on full automatic, spraying fire indiscriminately, then turned and ducked behind a ruined aircraft fuselage.

‘Anya!’

In disbelief, she watched Drake advancing towards her with an assault rifle up at his shoulder, still covering the gap Munro had disappeared through. Smoke trailed from the barrel, carried off by the fitful breeze.

She felt his hand on her arm, the touch sending a shiver through her.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, his vivid green eyes
shining
with fear, worry, relief, and something else. Something she had never expected to see.

He had saved her life. Just as he had the night he burst into her cell in Khatyrgan, he had saved her.

‘Anya. Are you all right?’ he repeated.

‘I—’ Her reply was cut short by the roar of a vehicle engine firing up.

In that instant, her mind snapped back into focus.

‘Munro! We have to stop him.’

Ignoring the stabbing pain in her side, she reached down and snatched up the Smith & Wesson she had discarded, slapped the magazine back into the port and racked back the slide to chamber the first round.

Together they sprinted between the ruined aircraft, emerging onto the ruined tarmac runway just in time to watch a Ford Explorer roar past, exhaust spewing fumes, tyres churning the arid sand. Munro was at the wheel.

Kicking up clouds of dust, the powerful 4x4 ploughed straight through the chain-link fence at the edge of the airfield as if it didn’t exist. They could do nothing but watch in helpless silence as the vehicle receded into the distance.

They had failed.

Half blinded by sweat, dust and sand, neither of them saw the tiny trail of white smoke that arced in towards the vehicle.

Their first impression was of a bright flash that erupted next to the speeding jeep, replaced an instant later by an expanding blossom of smoke and flame. The blast lifted the Explorer clean off the ground and hurled it aside as if it were a toy. Staring in amazement, they watched as the ruined vehicle rolled across the desert floor, trailing smoke and hurling wreckage in all directions before finally coming to rest on its side.

Glancing up, Drake could just make out the tiny but ominous shape of a Predator drone orbiting overhead.

In the ruined ops room, Dietrich let out an uncharacteristic shout of elation as the broken remains of the vehicle came to rest. It was so surreal to view it on a computer screen, it was almost possible to believe it wasn’t real.

But it was real. That same Predator had been poised to kill them and flatten the building they were in.

‘Damn it, Frost. That was some good shooting.’

The young woman glanced up from the terminal. And for the first time, she grinned at him with genuine warmth. ‘Easy. It’s just like
Call of Duty
.’

Chapter 74

GASPING FOR BREATH
, Drake and Anya slowed as they approached the wrecked vehicle, keeping their weapons up and ready.

The blast and subsequent crash had reduced the 4x4 to a broken, twisted mass of metal. Smoke and steam drifted from the ruined engine bay. Shattered glass lay everywhere.

Suddenly the cracked and partially destroyed front windscreen resounded with a crash from inside, bending outward. The blow was repeated with greater force, causing the damaged screen to shear off.

Standing in silence, they watched as Munro, bleeding from countless gashes and with one arm hanging slack by his side, tumbled out through the gap to land on the sandy, rock-strewn ground. He was badly hurt, but he was still clutching the MP5 with his good arm.

Drake and Anya had him covered in a heartbeat.

‘Put it down, Munro,’ Drake ordered. ‘It’s over.’

His cut and bloodied face twisted into what could have been called a smile. He glanced up at the sky, as if he could see the Predator that had thwarted his escape.

Anya took a step forward, keeping him covered with the Smith & Wesson. ‘Put the gun down, Dominic.’

He turned to look at her with his single remaining eye. There was no trace of hatred or revenge in him now. He knew what was coming, and he wasn’t afraid.

‘I was wrong about you, Anya,’ he said. ‘I was wrong, and … I’m sorry. Cain lied to me. He lied to all of us.’

Anya swallowed. ‘Then help me stop him. Together we can—’

Munro smiled a bitter-sweet smile and shook his head. ‘We can’t stop him. Men like him can never be stopped.’

He glanced down at the weapon in his hand, weighing up what he was about to do.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Anya warned, thumbing back the hammer on her Smith & Wesson.

‘I was a soldier once, Anya. At least let me die like one.’

‘It doesn’t have to end this way,’ she pleaded, knowing he wouldn’t listen.

‘Not everything ends the way you think it should.’ He closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. His last. ‘I’m ready.’

With a fast, practised motion, he brought the MP5 to bear on her.

He never got the chance to pull the trigger. Jerking as a flurry of rounds from Drake and Anya’s weapons tore through his body, he collapsed backward with an exhausted, agonised groan.

Shoving her weapon down the back of her trousers, Anya ran over and dropped to the ground beside her fallen comrade.

His fading eyes met hers, and just for a moment a look of understanding passed between them. With a final effort, he reached up and clasped her hand.

‘Don’t … end up like me … Anya.’

He could hold on no longer. His grip slackened and his hand fell away.

Anya bowed her head, reached out and closed his unseeing eye as tears ran from her own.

‘Too late,’ she whispered.

There was nothing more for her here. Rallying what reserves of strength remained, she rose to her feet with difficulty, turned and walked slowly away, her footsteps kicking up small wisps of dusty sand. Battered and bruised, injured and bleeding, she remained defiantly on her feet.

‘Anya!’ Drake called out.

She halted and turned to look at him. The barriers were back up again.

‘What are you doing?’

She glanced at Munro’s body. ‘There is nothing left for me here, Drake. It’s over.’

‘You have to come back with me.’

‘I have played that game long enough.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Not this time.’

‘What about Cain? He has to answer for this.’

‘And he will,’ she promised him. ‘But I must do it alone, my way. This isn’t your fight.’

Not his fight. It had been his fight from the first moment he saw her photograph in that briefing room at Langley. He just hadn’t realised it.

‘It is now.’

Cain had threatened his family, manipulated him, destroyed his career, sacrificed innocent lives and risked many more in order to cover up his own mistakes. Drake was involved now, part of Anya’s story, whether he wanted it or not.