Gray Salvation (17 page)

Gray waited until the vehicles had disappeared from sight, then got the others to their feet and continued the march towards town. The landscape changed, with trees and bushes replacing the stark mud plains they’d had to endure. Once Gray could make out individual windows in the buildings on the edge of town, he took another reading from the GPS, altered course a few degrees and ordered the men back onto their bellies for the last few hundred yards.

It took more than an hour to reach the hole they’d created in the chain-link fence. Gray was the first to break cover, sprinting for the gap while the others prepared to lay down cover fire. Once he was through, he planted himself against the wall of the nearest building and urged the next man forward. One by one they joined up, and Gray used the GPS to find the location where Smart had stashed the truck.

‘I just hope it’s still there,’ Smart said.

‘If it isn’t, we’ll just have to go in on foot,’ Sonny answered.

They walked slowly through now familiar streets, sticking to smaller avenues and avoiding major intersections. It took another thirty minutes to reach the rear of the school, and they were relieved to see the truck almost exactly as they’d left it.

The only difference was the stench of death filling the interior.

Working in pairs, they dragged the corpses from the cab and flat bed, then identified bodies with builds similar to their own. Luckily, there were plenty of puddles around, allowing them to wash off the bloodstains. Smart, being the largest, had to settle for a combat smock that he could barely button up.

‘Time to lay off the pies.’ Sonny laughed, patting the big man’s belly.

‘Knock it off,’ Gray warned.

He forced open the school door and ordered the bodies to be pushed down a stairwell, then climbed into the passenger seat. Wanting a Russian speaker up front with him, he had Doc get behind the wheel, and gave him directions.

‘Next left,’ Gray said, taking them onto the main street that bisected the town. It initially looked to be deserted but Gray could see a car in the distance, and it was getting closer.

‘Carry on, or turn off?’ Doc asked, as the vehicle drew nearer, two hundred yards away and closing fast.

‘Carry on,’ Gray said. ‘If they stop us, tell them you’re low on fuel and need to top up before you join the others.’

‘And if they don’t buy it?’

There was really little alternative. ‘We take ’em out. At your signal.’

He relayed the message on the comms, getting double-click replies from the pair in the back.

At a hundred yards, the car began flashing its headlights. Gray told Doc to ignore them, but the estate car driver yanked the wheel to the left and came to a halt fifty yards in front of them. A large man with a barrel chest climbed out and strode purposefully towards them. Gray prayed that he’d choose the driver’s side. It looked for a moment as if he’d be disappointed as the approaching figure fixed his gaze on Gray, but Doc rescued the situation by leaning out of the window and calling out in Russian.

The man changed direction and went to Doc’s side of the truck, waving and shouting, and even though Gray only knew a couple of rudimentary words, he could tell the Russian wasn’t happy.

Gray watched Doc’s fingers tighten around the silenced pistol on his lap, and knew they were seconds away from an unwanted firefight. His own hand moved to the door of the cab, ready to leap out and unleash hell on the other occupants of the car.

All he needed was Doc’s signal.

When it came, it wasn’t in the form of a bullet to the Russian’s brain. Instead, Doc snapped off an awkward salute and put the truck into gear as the enemy soldier walked back to his own conveyance.

‘What did he say?’ Gray asked.

‘Only that my mother was a whoring baboon, and that we should catch up with the others sharpish.’

‘I have to disagree with the second part,’ Gray said with a chuckle. ‘Take the next right.’

Doc followed the directions, and three minutes later Gray ordered him to pull over. The police station was only two streets away, but he’d already ruled out driving straight up to the front gate. The first thing he wanted to do was to try to confirm that McGregor was actually being held there.

‘Doc, you and Sonny get as close as you can to the jail and let us know what you see. If you come across anyone, try to talk your way out of it, but if it goes pear-shaped, we’ll be thirty seconds behind you.’

Gray crawled over to the driver’s side as Doc got out with Sonny. ‘Don’t forget, eyes on
only
. No hero shit.’

Doc Butterworth and Sonny walked casually around the corner, the dead Russians’ AK-47s carried casually in their hands. Lurking in the shadows would have drawn too much attention, but walking the streets in full uniform made for perfect camouflage.

They didn’t come across anyone as they neared the street in which the police headquarters stood, but when they turned the corner they saw major activity. Russians were carrying their dead out into the street, overseen by a large man sporting a grey beard. Five bodies lay on the ground, and Doc could see another being brought out of the building.

‘Lots of activity here,’ Sonny said into his throat mic. ‘They’re clearing out the dead and seem to be in a hurry.’

‘Any sign of Mac?’ Gray replied.

Doc watched the bearded man, who continually looked at his watch and seemed agitated. ‘It looks to me like they’re still waiting for him to turn up.’

‘Give me numbers,’ Gray said.

‘I count fifteen here. There could be more inside.’

‘Roger that. Wait one.’

Sonny backed away from the corner, signalling Doc to follow.

‘I prefer the idea of taking them out in the open,’ Doc said.

‘Me, too,’ Sonny agreed, ‘but it’s Tom’s call.’

It had been sheer luck that none of them had been killed storming the police station hours earlier. Doc had dressed Sonny’s shoulder wound, which hadn’t been as bad as first thought, but they didn’t dare push their luck by storming back into the bowels of the police building.

‘Sonny, Doc, on me. Now!’

Both men broke into a sprint. ‘What’s happening?’ Sonny asked as he ran.

‘There’s a truck approaching,’ Gray said. ‘Hopefully with McGregor in it. We’re going to stop it and we’ll need Doc to do the talking.’

Doc turned a corner and saw Gray and Smart standing near their own vehicle, which had been moved to form a roadblock. In the distance, a similar vehicle was approaching.

‘When they stop,’ Gray told Doc, ‘tell them the building was booby-trapped and is out of commission. You’ve been ordered to take the prisoner back to Russia.’

‘Can do,’ Doc said, walking towards the approaching truck and waving it down.

Sonny walked over to one side of the road with Smart, while Gray took the other.

Doc held his Kalashnikov across his stomach, hiding the bullet hole in the jacket that he’d taken from one of the corpses, and continued to wave with the left hand. The truck pulled up in front of him; the front passenger jumped down, clearly irate.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he shouted in Russian. ‘The colonel is already pissed off that we’re so late.’

‘How come?’ Doc asked.

‘We had a puncture and some thieving hound had stolen the tool kit. We had to wait for someone to bring us a replacement.’

‘Just as well. Those bastards left a bomb in the police station,’ Doc told him. ‘It killed ten people and the building is unsafe. We’ve been ordered to take the prisoner back to Moscow.’

The Russian’s eyebrows narrowed. ‘I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?’

‘Markov,’ Doc told him confidently. ‘We were sent in from Orsk when we heard about the attack. Do you have the prisoner or not?’

The Russian pulled a radio from his pocket. ‘I’ll call the colonel and confirm it with him.’

‘Don’t waste your time,’ Doc said. ‘He was one of those killed in the blast.’

Doc silently urged the man to believe him, knowing that if the call were made, the charade was over. By this time, three men had jumped down from the back of the truck and two of them were walking towards Doc, demanding to know what was causing the hold-up. The other was shouting at Gray, who merely shrugged his shoulders. The situation was falling apart, but when the first Russian placed the radio to his mouth, Gray knew the ruse had failed completely. In seconds the truth would be out, and every enemy soldier in the area would converge on their position.

Doc brought his rifle up and sent a round through the chest of the Russian closest to him. The radio clattered to the ground as the man clutched his chest, and Doc was already shifting to the next man.

Almost simultaneously, Smart took out the passenger in the cab while Gray made short work of the Russian who’d been walking towards him. Sonny helped mop up the other two foot soldiers and ran to the back of the truck. Two more men were jumping out, but rounds from Sonny and Smart ensured they were dead before they hit the ground.

‘Mac, stun grenade!’ Sonny shouted.

Seconds later, the canvas sides of the truck billowed out as the blast assaulted the senses of those in the back. Sonny had already discarded the rifle and had his silenced pistol in his hand as he clambered up the tailgate. He saw McGregor, arms secured behind his back, with his foot against a Russian’s throat, pinning him to the opposite seat. The dazed Russian was trying in vain to reach his rifle on the deck. McGregor, who appeared to be immune from the concussive blast, looked little the worse for wear, though he’d taken a bloody injury to his wrist, which hadn’t been treated and so bled freely.

‘What’re you waiting for?’ the big man growled.

Sonny’s pistol popped, ending the struggle, then he ushered McGregor to the rear of the truck.

‘Len, give me a hand!’

Smart appeared instantly and together they helped the Scotsman over the tail and onto the pavement, taking care not to jostle his wounded arm. Two of the other men lay in the back, groaning, and Sonny wasn’t about to let them back in the fight. Two pops rang out and the moans stopped.

Sonny grabbed what weapons he could see and threw them out, then searched the Russians for ammunition. What his team had would soon run out, and there was no telling what battles lay ahead.

‘Sonny,’ Gray called out, ‘time to go.’

Sonny leapt out of the truck and at Gray’s order, shot out the truck’s tyres, effectively disabling it. Gray was already in the passenger seat of their own vehicle, with Smart behind the wheel.

Doc and Sonny gathered up the arms he’d taken from the Russians and threw them into the back. Sonny was first to climb up, and as Doc was pulling himself into the cab, a bullet slammed into the bodywork.

The next one caught him in the forearm, and he lost his grip, dropping to the ground in agony.

Colonel Aminev was growing increasingly irate as the minutes ticked by. The last he’d heard, the prisoner had been fifteen minutes out. That was twenty minutes ago, and still no sign of them.

‘Yakov, call Andreyev and find out where the hell they are.’

The private saluted and disappeared outside, leaving Aminev to reflect on the damage that had been done by the small British unit. Forty men confirmed dead, power to the police station disabled. But most importantly, the MI5 agent was gone.

If Moscow found out, he knew the penalty that waited him. If he were lucky, he’d get a bullet to the head, but he’d been a soldier long enough to know that was wishful thinking. His superiors were unforgiving, and would make an example of him, of that there was no doubt. He himself had come up with some particularly heinous ways of dealing with prisoners of war, and none of them particularly appealed as a way of leaving the planet.

‘Sir, I hear a truck approaching!’

Finally
.

Aminev bounded up the stairs. If he could make the new prisoner talk, there was still a chance they could get Harvey back before anyone heard about the rescue attempt.

And he knew plenty of ways to get a man to open up.

As he stepped out into the drizzle, he heard the sound of an engine, but it was idling a couple of streets away.

What are they waiting for?