Tom Clancy Under Fire (45 page)

“Which leads where?” asked Jack.

“A reservoir about a hundred yards inland. It’s a recreational boat area.”

“Docks? Road access?”

“Uh . . . lemme think. Yeah. Nasrudinova Street, it heads north toward downtown.”

“Dom, I can’t see a thing. You’re going to have to steer me.”

“You got it.” Dom leaned closer to the scope face. “Keep going . . . Okay, start easing to starboard. Keep coming around until you hit two-two-three degrees, then straight ahead.”

Jack did so, his eyes darting between the rotating compass and the windscreen. The fog was thinning. Off the bow he could make out fuzzy geometric shapes; slowly they began to resolve into buildings.

When the compass hit 223, Jack let the wheel spin back to center.

“I see lights ahead,” he said. “Off the port and starboard bow.”

“Those’ll be the inlet markers,” replied Spellman.

Jack eased back on the throttle until they were moving at eight knots.

“Keep it steady, Jack. This thing looks real narrow.”

“Forty feet, I’d guess,” Spellman added. “Tight fit for the
Igarka
.”

Dom said, “She’s dead ahead, maybe a hundred yards and still slowing.”

Out both windows Jack saw gray shadows gliding down the hull as they entered the inlet.

“Almost through,” Dom muttered. “
Igarka
’s still slowing . . .”

Spellman said, “Don’t crowd her, Jack.”

He eased back on the throttle again. Six knots.

“We’re through,” Dom said. “
Igarka
’s fifty yards off.”

Jack throttled the engines back to idle and let momentum carry them forward. Through the haze a pair of headlights flashed twice, then twice more. Still invisible in the fog, the
Igarka
’s diesels revved up.

“Moving again,” Dom said.

The
Igarka
’s engines faded and they heard the scraping of steel on sand.

Jack said to Dom, “Get Matt one of the ARXs. Same thing as before, guys: If somebody’s holding a gun, they’re a target. No gun, they better be on their bellies. Sound good?”

Both Dom and Spellman nodded.

“I’m going to get us alongside as quick as possible, so hold on to something. Once we’re stopped, get aboard and start clearing the decks. Dom, you’re up high, Matt and I are heading forward along the deck.”

Jack shoved the throttle forward and the boat plowed ahead.

“Come to starboard a bit,” Dom called. “A little more. Good. Fifty feet . . . forty feet. Now to port . . . a little less. We should see her any—”

A black shape loomed before the windscreen. Jack thought,
Davit,
then shouted, “Get down!”

Spellman and Dom dropped to their bellies, Jack only a split second behind them. The
Igarka
’s boat davit clotheslined the cabin, shattering the windscreen and peeling the roof back like the top of a tin can.

Dom pushed open the cabin door and crawled out with Spellman and Jack on his heels. Jack stood up, looked right. The side of the
Igarka
was there, a few feet above them. Jack placed his foot on the gunwale, hopped up and snagged the
Igarka
’s gunwale, then boosted himself up. He brought the ARX to his shoulder and aimed it down the deck. Nothing moved.

Dom and Spellman climbed up and crouched next to him.

“Dom, go.”

Dom jogged to a ladder affixed to the aft superstructure and started climbing. The fog enveloped him.

“Ready?” Jack said.

“Yep.”

He and Spellman headed toward the bow, Jack taking the starboard side, Spellman the port.

As Jack passed the first hatch, it swung open, shoving him sideways into the railing. Jack spun, his ARX coming up. A man was standing in the hatchway. He was unarmed.

“Back inside!” Jack shouted. He kicked the hatch shut and kept going.

From somewhere above came the dull pop, pop, of Dom’s ARX, then, “You two, down! Get down! Jack, you’re clear to the bow!”

Jack sprinted past the front edge of the superstructure and onto the forecastle until he reached the bow railing. Below he saw the broad outline of a flatbed truck cab.

He shouted over his shoulder, “Dom, you and Matt clear belowdecks.”

“Got it!”

Jack lifted his legs over the railing, let himself hang free, then dropped to the sand below. ARX raised, he sprinted toward the truck, which began backing away, its tires spewing sand. On the other side of the windshield, a lone figure was behind the wheel.

Jack pointed the ARX at him. “Shut off the engine!”

The driver ignored him and kept backing up, until the truck’s cab disappeared into the fog. Jack sprinted forward until the cab reappeared; then he fired a round into the passenger-side windshield. The truck braked to a stop.

“Engine off, hands out the window!”

The man complied.

Jack ordered him down from the cab, then onto his belly.

Dom ran up.

“Clear it for me,” Jack said.

Dom was back in ten seconds. “Nobody else.”

•   •   •

THEY FOUND SPELLMAN
standing on the sand before the
Igarka
’s bow. “Three crew in total,” he reported. “All scared shitless, but unhurt. I’ve got them locked in the chart room. I don’t think they know anything about the Kvant.”

Jack prodded the driver of the truck forward. “Add him to the collection. We’ll send some of Medzhid’s ERF for them.”

As Spellman took the man away, Dom asked, “Now what?”

Jack scratched his head. “Do you know how to sink a ship?”

Makhachkala

J
ACK’S UNEASE GREW STRONGER
each block they drew closer to the Ministry of the Interior building. The streets were eerily empty. Shops and restaurants were closed. Buses and cars sat empty in the middle of intersections. It was, Jack thought, as though the whole of the government district had been transformed into a massive, post-apocalyptic movie set. The rain clouds had begun to break up, letting through intermittent patches of sun that warmed the still-slick streets enough that the pavement was shrouded in a thin layer of almost imperceptible fog. Another special effect, Jack thought.

The residents that hadn’t fled to the city’s southernmost neighborhoods were now behind locked apartment and house doors with curtains drawn, save a gap through which the owners could watch the streets.

Volodin’s ordering of the border garrison troops into Makhachkala hadn’t been announced on the radio or the television, for those, like the Internet and the power grid, had been shut down shortly after dawn. The news had instead traveled by word of mouth, as had the protesters’ heartbreaking realization that no one outside Makhachkala was seeing or even knew that Dagestanis were trying to take their first steps toward independence.

•   •   •

JACK PULLED
the truck to the curb outside the MOI’s rear entrance and they climbed out. The guard let them through the gate and they took the elevator up to Medzhid’s offices.

Jack found Seth leaning forward in one of the club chairs, his head in his hands.

“Why the hell aren’t you answering your phone?” Jack said.

Seth looked up. “What?”

“The Kvant is sitting at the bottom of the Akgel Reservoir. Without that, the two Krasukhas should be easy to keep ahead of.”

“It’s too late, Jack. Medzhid’s not going to send people back into the streets with the border garrisons on their way. It’s over.”

“It’s not over. Get him in here.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Jack said, “Hey, where’s Ysabel—”

He saw her emerge from the nearby adjoining hallway. She stopped and stared at him. She crossed her arms. Her eyes were wet.

Jack walked over to her. “I’m sorry.” He folded her in his arms. “I just couldn’t let—”

“I know, it’s okay,” she whispered. “Jack, you need to listen to me, okay?” The tone in her voice was deadly serious. “Just keep hugging me.”

“Okay . . .” he replied.

“There was something about Anton’s face when you accused him of betraying Medzhid. He seemed genuinely shocked. Heartbroken. This morning I decided to go through his phone. Aside from Pechkin’s number, there was only one other in his call history. It was labeled “Mamochka”—mother. I called it. The woman who answered said, ‘Vasim, where have you been?’”

Jack felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Vasim had covertly swapped phones with Anton.

“I’m sure about this, Jack. It was Vasim. He was the one working with Pechkin, not Anton.”

Oh, God,
Jack thought. He’d killed the wrong man. He replayed the scene in his head and realized Anton had never actually pointed his gun at Medzhid, but instead had drawn it on instinct when Spellman had charged him.

Worst of all, Anton may have died thinking Rebaz Medzhid hated him.

“How did Vasim know we were onto one of them?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. You need to get to Rebaz and—”

“Jack!” Medzhid called. “Dom . . . Matt!”

Jack whispered to Ysabel, “Get to Dom or Matt and tell them what’s happening. I’ll try to get Medzhid and Vasim separated. Watch the muzzles and stay out of the line of fire.”

“Be careful, Jack.”

He turned to face Medzhid, who was striding across the carpet. Vasim was two paces behind and to his left. Seth stood to Medzhid’s right.

Jack shook the minister’s extended hand. “Rebaz.”

Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw Ysabel standing beside Dom. He glanced that way. Dom gave him a wink.

“Glad to have you all back safe,” said Medzhid. “Seth said you want to talk to me. If it’s about asking people to go back into the streets—”

“No, it’s not that. Let’s go in your office and I’ll explain.”

“Here is fine, Jack. I have staff in my office. And to be honest, I could use a break from commotion.”

“Okay, then. Let’s sit down.” Jack gestured to the couch area.

“Dom, what’re you doing?” Seth blurted.

Dom, who had been maneuvering himself behind Jack for a clear shot on Vasim, stopped. “What?”

“Why do you have a gun?”

Medzhid turned around. “Dom?”

Jack kept his eyes fixed on Vasim. Rather than moving to put himself between the principal and the threat, Vasim was staring at Dom. His eyes flicked toward Jack, then to Medzhid.

Vasim’s hand shot into his coat.

“Rebaz, down!” Jack shouted, and raised his Ruger.

Vasim was moving sideways, using Medzhid’s body to block Jack’s firing angle.

Seth shouted, “Jack, what the hell is—”

Suddenly he seemed to notice Vasim’s gun was out. “Hey, what are you—”

“Out of the way, Seth!” yelled Dom.

Time seemed to both slow down and speed up in Jack’s mind, a stop-motion blur he felt strangely disconnected from.

He ducked down, leaned sideways, fired a round past Medzhid’s leg. Vasim took the bullet in his thigh. To Jack’s left, Dom was trying to maneuver for his own shot, but Seth was also turning, his eyes wide, as though trying to make sense of what was happening.

Vasim raised his gun and took aim on Medzhid.

“No!” Seth shouted.

He lunged forward. Vasim fired. Seth seemed to freeze in mid-step. His body convulsed and he dropped to his knees, then rolled onto his side. Jack, already charging, shoved Medzhid aside, raised his Ruger, and put a bullet in Vasim’s throat, then another in his chest as he slumped back against the paneled wall.

Somewhere a woman screamed.

Jack was frozen in place, the Ruger still extended before him. His eyesight fluttered at the edges. Sounds seemed to fade in and out.

Seth is dead.

Seth is dead.
He knew it in his gut.

“Jack.” Spellman’s voice. “Jack, let me have that. Let it go.”

He pried the Ruger from Jack’s grip.

Dom strode forward, knelt down to check Vasim’s pulse. He glanced over to Spellman and shook his head, then started toward Seth’s body, which was curled into an almost fetal position.

“Leave him alone,” Jack murmured.

Dom stopped, gave a slight nod, moved off to the side.

Jack stepped around Medzhid, who was trying to sit up. The sleeve of his white shirt was bright with blood.

“Check him,” Jack ordered, and kept moving until he reached Seth. He knelt down. He placed his palm on Seth’s side. His friend’s body felt somehow flat, deflated, missing whatever it was that made Seth Seth.

Jack bent forward at the waist, pressed his forehead against Seth’s shoulder, and squeezed his eyes shut.