“Could that cargo be men?”
“How the hell would I know? But if it is, I’d hazard a guess there are at least ten men in there.”
“Looks like more of our ABW and AW friends are out to play tonight, on board the SAR vessel, making sure that their prize is not attacked from behind.”
“I know that!”
“Do we abort?”
Will’s mind raced fast. “No.”
The
Paderewski
was now in the river, heading toward Gdansk.
“Delta 1: We’ve got locals bolting northwest toward the oncoming
Paderewski,
handguns out. Something’s wrong.”
Will watched his local sprinting away from the coast, paralleling the
Paderewski
. “It’s the SAR vessel that’s wrong. That’s what’s spooked our Polish friends. It’s not carrying ABW or AW men. It must be a team of SVR. They’ve come to assassinate the defector.” Will began running. “All Delta: do not touch the locals. You have a new target and objective. Converge on the SAR vessel and get ready to kill anything inside it. Our priority now is to ensure the ABW and AW men get their defector.”
“Delta 1. The Poles will think we’re hostiles.”
“Damn right.” Will sprinted alongside the river. “But you mustn’t kill any of them.” After two minutes of passing cranes and warehouses adjacent to the river, he called out, “I’m about six hundred yards inland from the river mouth, following the target. The SAR’s right on its tail. I can see the driver in the cabin, no one else.”
“Reckon the SVR’s going to do a hit and run the moment the
Paderewski
docks and the defector steps off the boat.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m on the west bank of the river. The
Paderewski
’s just coming into my view, heading toward my position.”
“Is there anywhere around you that the boat could dock?”
“No. I think it’s going to head farther south toward the city, where most of the tourist vessel berths and cargo unloading bays are. But we still can’t discount the possibility that the
Paderewski
may simply slow down, pull alongside an area of flat land, and allow the defector to jump off.”
“Okay. Move south, ahead of the target. I’ll stay on the boats.”
“Be careful. I’ve got visual of two locals about seven hundred yards south of your position and on the same side of the river as you.”
Will continued running. Ahead of him, the river forked. Between the forks was an island that was one mile long and half a mile wide. “Both vessels are taking the left fork into the Kanal Kaszubski.” Will ran even faster. “Delta 1: that canal travels for one mile before it rejoins the main river. Half your team and I are now completely blind to the target vessels. There are only two bridges to that island: the crossing in the west and the one in the south. Move to the southern road crossing. From there you’ll be able to pick up sight of the
Paderewski
and SAR and continue to tail them if they keep moving beyond the island, or enter the island if they stop at that location. I’ll take the western crossing onto the island.”
Two Polish operatives ran across Will’s path and pursued the SAR and the
Paderewski
. Will ducked for cover before they could see him, waited five seconds, and ran east along Na Ostrowiu. Within five seconds, he was crossing the river. Within ten seconds he was on the large island. The place was silent; sea mist hung thickly over the security lit warehouses, moored cargo ships, jetties, cranes, small factory units, roads, and the waterways around the island. He slowed to a jog and began moving across the island toward the canal containing the target vessels. He saw no movement of any sort and heard nothing beyond the distant foghorn. The whole island seemed deserted.
“Delta 1. The
Paderewski
’s slowing down.” The Q operative’s voice was a near whisper. “It’s about two-thirds of the way along the canal. Speed now about five knots. Four locals near us, all of them holding handguns.”
“Received.” Will dashed along a narrow gap between two warehouses, gripping his handgun tightly with one hand, searching for glimpses of the canal. But so far all he could see were more industrial shipping units. The air was even colder here; the whole place felt eerie. He ran alongside a stack of big freight containers before reaching a small road. On the other side of it were two large warehouses, between them an alleyway. Lights were visible at the far end of the gap. He entered the gap, nearly fell as his feet struck loose girders on the ground, staggered to stay upright, and continued sprinting. The lights belonged to lamps straddling the broad canal.
“Delta 1. The
Paderewski
’s now at a crawl and so is the SAR.”
Will slowed to a walk. Sweat from his exertions felt cold against his skin. He held his gun high with both hands, searching for sight of Russians or the local intelligence operatives. Reaching a road by the side of the canal, he stood still and looked left. Cargo boats were moored on either side of the waterway, derrick cranes beside them; a row of warehouses was adjacent to the road, larger ones on the other side of the canal. But here the icy mist seemed thicker and was moving slowly along the canal toward him. He was blind to anything beyond a forty-yard radius of his location. “I’m in position.”
“There’s a man who’s emerged onto the deck of the SAR vessel.” Delta 1’s voice was still a whisper, but urgent. “Tall, athletic, dressed in overcoat and suit, hand inside his jacket.”
Will saw lights draw closer along the canal.
The
Paderewski
.
“The tall man moves across the SAR’s deck, he faces the island bank, he looks at the
Paderewski,
he looks back at the bank, he runs forward, jumps, and lands on the island. He pulls his hand out of his jacket. He’s holding a pistol.”
Will looked sharply away from the encroaching
Paderewski
toward the road he was on. The big Russian was somewhere in the darkness ahead of him.
“The
Paderewski
’s pulling alongside the island. Four Polish sailors are on deck.”
Will watched the ship. “What’s the SAR doing?”
“It’s still right on the ass of the
Paderewski
. No sign of any other men coming out of it though.”
“They’re waiting. Everyone: stand by.”
“Delta 1. We’ve got two locals moving across the southern crossing onto the island. Their handguns are out. My men are following them.” Silence. “The
Paderewski
’s stationary. Two of the sailors are on the island, roping the ship to the berth. Four Delta and four locals are now on the east bank of the canal, close to the two vessels. Our locals have still got their guns trained on the SAR. Another man on the deck of the
Paderewski.
He’s not dressed like the sailors.”
Will took five quick paces toward the ship, but could not distinguish anything beyond the bow of the vessel. “That could be our defector.”
“Men emerging on the SAR’s deck! Four of them, now six, now . . . now eleven! All armed with assault rifles.”
Pistol shots rang out.
“The Poles have opened fire!”
The sound of machine gun fire was deafening. “Russians are returning fire. Some of them are jumping onto the island.”
“Take them down!” Will ran along the road toward the gunfight.
Four shots came from his left. One of the bullets ripped through the front of Will’s overcoat, narrowly missing his body. He spun to face the direction of the shots, saw two Poles emerge from the darkness pointing their handguns at him, dived to the ground as they fired again, rolled, got to his feet, and sprinted as they kept shooting. The noise of a different handgun came from behind the Polish operatives. Will looked in that direction while continuing to run, caught a brief glimpse of a man wearing a baseball cap and pointing his gun at the sky, knew that man had to be a Delta operative, saw the Poles spin around to face the Q man, and then saw him dash away into the fog. The Poles spun back to face Will, but the Delta operative’s distraction had enabled Will to get farther away from them and out of their sight.
He reached the side of the
Paderewski
. Two sailors were lying on the ground, immobile and moaning in pain. He was about to move to them when he felt a tremendous force on his shoulder blade. He collapsed to his knees in agony. A man emerged from behind him. He was tall and dressed in an overcoat and suit—he had to be the SVR officer. Will tried to raise his arm to shoot him, but winced in pain from the movement and involuntarily lowered it. The Russian ignored him, walking quickly to the sailors. He grabbed one of them, hauled him onto his shoulder, carried him twenty yards away from the boat, lowered him onto the ground, and then did the same with the other sailor.
Over the sound of near continuous gunfire, Delta 1 screamed, “The defector’s jumped onto the island. He’s somewhere close to you.”
Gritting his teeth, Will forced himself onto his feet, this time managing to keep his arm moving upward. Pointing his gun at the Russian, he saw the man turn to face him. He was holding something in his hand.
A detonator.
Four explosions happened in quick succession to his right, causing Will to twist and fall back to the ground. Shards of metal flew through the air; smoke and fire seemed to cover everything. Will covered his head and lay flat on the ground, feeling small pieces of debris fall over him. He turned his head, his ears ringing from the explosions, and saw that the
Paderewski
was ablaze and beginning to sink.
He looked at the Russian. The man was facing Will and firing, but not at him. The SVR officer began running and by the time he passed Will’s prone body he was at full sprint while still shooting. Will rolled onto his side, ignored the intense heat from the fire in the canal, saw an unarmed man disappear down the road and saw the Russian chasing him. He looked back and frowned as he saw that the two sailors had not been hurt by the explosion because the man who had blown up the boat had moved them out of harm’s way.
Getting to his feet, he began running after the Russian, but after a few paces he heard a hail of machine gun fire. He threw himself sideways onto the ground and rolled away until he was behind the cover of a warehouse. More bullets hit the wall by his side, causing chunks of brick to fly off it.
Will clutched his mic against his throat. “Delta 1: I’m going after the big SVR guy. He’s pursuing an unarmed man who is almost certainly the defector.”
“Delta 1.” The Q man was screaming over the sound of gunfire. “Men have just taken out my two Poles. There’re six of them, and they’re firing at us as well. But they’re not the Russian SVR men.”
“What?”
Delta 1 did not answer, and before Will could speak again, another voice shouted in his earpiece. “Delta 9. My two locals have just engaged four SVR men on the island. I’m going to get on their flank and assist the Poles with . . . What the hell?”
Will shouted, “Delta 9? What’s happening?”
The noise of automatic gunfire was continuous.
“Delta 9: my locals and the SVR men are dead. Killed by the other team. I can see you, Zulu. I’m thirty yards behind you.”
Will got to his feet just as the Q operative got alongside him. Both men began running east, in the direction of the big SVR officer and the defector, their guns pointing at the darkness and fog ahead of them. Muzzle flashes were visible coming from the other side of the canal on their left.
“No, no!”
Will grabbed his throat mic. “Delta 1?”
Nothing.
“Delta 1?”
“Delta 1: They’re . . . they’re dead.”
“Who?”
“The Russians, the Poles, my men. Fucking everyone!”
Incredulity struck Will. “Get onto the island! Head west. We’re pursuing the defector.”
Will and Delta 9 suddenly stopped. In the distance ahead of them they could see the long road that led over the western bridge. Lights straddled it, and easily visible were three men running at full speed toward the crossing. The defector, the SVR officer, and the last remaining Polish operative.
Will raised his gun and moved its muzzle so that it was pointing slightly in front of the Russian’s body. Tensing, he pulled back the trigger. But the moment his gun fired, the SVR officer stopped. Will’s bullet passed in front of him. Will looked beyond the officer to the far side of the bridge. A van was heading fast toward the defector. The Polish operative and the SVR officer began firing at the oncoming van.
Will and Delta 9 sprinted and fired at the front windows of the vehicle. As they did so, they saw the SVR officer raise his gun and fire one bullet. The defector stumbled, then carried on moving toward the van, one of his legs limping. Nine men poured out of the van. They were dressed in fire-resistant black combat overalls, upper body and head armor, and night-vision goggles, and were carrying submachine guns.
Some of them fired at the SVR officer and the Polish operative behind him; others fired toward Will and Delta 9. Whatever handgun the SVR officer was carrying, it was obviously much more powerful than those being carried by Will and his team. The officer fired two rounds at two of the hostiles and dropped them both. Will dodged left and right, fired three times at three of the hostiles, and saw his bullets simply glance off their body armor.
“Delta 1: I’m pinned down! Center of the island.”
Will looked toward the end of the bridge. Three of the hostiles ran along the crossing, passed the defector, and fired their automatic weapons at the Russian and Polish operatives. Both men remained stock still, firing their handguns at the hostiles. Two other men ran to the defector, grabbed him, pulled him toward the van, and bundled him into the vehicle. Then five of the hostiles started slowly walking along the bridge, firing their weapons continuously. Will stopped. He felt useless. The hostiles knew that they controlled the ground. The Polish operative fell down as one bullet struck him in the face. The Russian’s powerful handgun boomed, flipping one of the hostiles off his feet and backward. The Russian then turned, looked at the prone Polish officer, looked back at the encroaching force, fired a couple more shots toward them, and ran to the stricken Pole.