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“Copy that.”
He ran along the edge of the hangar, which curved like the side of a bell, so that he was obscured from the view of anyone at the entrance. West saw armed figures running toward the vehicle pool and knew he didn’t have long.
He slowed to a walk and then a creep as he reached the apex of the curve. He raised his rifle and—
There were two incoming shots. The first hit the hangar beside his head and the second caught him in the shoulder, missing his body armor and tearing through the bulb of flesh at the top of his arm.
He cried out.
“West?” Jack said urgently. “West?”
“I’m hit.”
“I’m coming.”
“No!” he replied, pressing his hand to the wound.
He saw three men across the yard. They were heading away from the command building and one of them had his gun on West.
He tried to raise his weapon but his arm wouldn’t work, so he grabbed the rifle with his left hand and lifted it to take aim.He was about to fire one-handed when he heard a noise behind him. One of the hangar guards had got the jump on him. He drove his rifle stock into West’s face.
West went down like a derelict building being demolished and blacked out an instant later.
CHAPTER 94
WEST HAD LEFT his mic open so I heard voices speaking in Russian as they carried him away. I prayed he was still alive and wondered whether I should go for him or stay on mission. If he was dead, I’d be wasting my energy and risking complete failure. If he was alive, I could rescue him later. Making the correct decision felt straightforward.
I hurried over to my ingress point, a section of hangar wall directly behind the main entrance. West was supposed to engage Alekseyev’s men in a frontal assault while I used the cover of the hostages to attack from the rear, but the plan was in tatters now. I’d have to improvise.
I took a canister of nano-thermite foam from my equipment belt, sprayed the contents in a thin arc from the ground to an apex about six feet above it, and then back down again. The explosive foam expanded and took on a more solid texture as itclung to the hangar wall. I primed a small detonator, stuck it in the foam near the top of the arc and backed away a dozen paces. I turned my back and covered my ears as there was a staccato blast from the thousands of tiny explosive charges that made up the foam, detonating in rapid succession.
The moment the noise subsided, I ran toward the hole I’d made, raised my HK416 rifle and went through.
The interior was gloomy but I had my scope. Through the smoke I saw two figures by the main door and three more by the hostages. There were shouts, commands barked in Russian, and the men turned toward me, guns raised.
The first cracks of gunfire broke out. Bullets whistled around me. I picked out my first target and squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit him in the chest, and I had moved on to the second man before the first dropped.
Headshot.
The third guy made the mistake of moving away from the hostages, so I ran toward him at an angle. The space he had created between himself, Dinara, Feo, and the others meant I didn’t have to be so careful with my aim. As he opened fire and tried to compensate for the speed and direction of my movement, I sprayed a volley in his general direction and a cluster of bullets caught him in the knees and thighs.
He went down screaming.
The two men by the door were firing wildly now and one or two of the bullets went into the assembled hostages. I heard grunts, nothing more because they were all gagged, but I knew someone had been injured. I had to take those guards out, so Ipulled an M67 grenade from my belt, released the spoon, and threw it over and past the hostages.
The green metal ball travelled the eighty or so feet separating me from the two men. When it hit the ground between the pair of them, they stopped shooting and tried to dive clear, but they weren’t quick enough and were caught in the blast, which picked them up and hurled their broken bodies through the main entrance. I’d judged the distance well so that, although buffeted by the blast wave, the hostages weren’t affected by the fireball or full force of the explosion.
I raced over to them and found Feo, the former Moscow police officer who now worked for Private. He was easy to pick out because of his enormous size. I used my tactical knife to cut his bonds and he removed his blindfold and gag.
“Jack Morgan, you magnificent immortal!” he boomed, and followed it up with something equally expressive in Russian.
“We don’t have much time,” I said. “Cut the others loose while I watch the door then take them out the back. There’s a blast hole. Head west through the forest. I’ll find you.”
“What about you?” Feo asked.
“They’ve taken a friend. I need to get him back,” I replied. “And I have to find Alekseyev.”
“Valery Alekseyev?” Feo’s eyes widened.
