leaping from the truck, he crouched and looked back, motioning for Khamid to follow him.
Khamid hesitated for only a second. What could be worse than where he was heading ? He eased himself down off the back of the truck and allowed the man to lead him into the trees.
***
‘Dr. Denichen Khamid?’
The small man flinched as Bronson towered over him. He could see the fear in his eyes. Khamid sat mute, his body crumpled with exhaustion. Alex knelt beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder. Khamid hunched up as if waiting for a blow.
Sam Stozer pushed in front of Alex and spoke softly over her shoulder. ‘Back off, Frankenstein. You’d be enough to scare anyone this time of the night.’ She offered Khamid a small canister of water. ‘We’re American, sir; you contacted us, and we’re here to help you.’
The Chechen looked up at her. ‘American.’ He visibly relaxed, as if tight wires in his shoulders had been cut. ‘Yes, yes, I am Khamid . . . Dr. Denichen Khamid. I called for you.’ He took the water and swallowed several mouthsful, pausing to gulp air as if he had been holding his breath.
‘Dr. Khamid,’ Bronson prodded. ‘Where is the package – the cell? Are you still in possession of the power cell you mentioned?’
Khamid nodded. ‘Yes. But I hid it. I can’t let them have it . . . They’re looking for me; they’re all looking for me. I thought that I would be taken back to Moscow to be tortured. I thought . . .’ His eyes widened. ‘You need to get me out. I need . . . I need . . .’
Bronson leaned closer and took hold of him, shaking him gently. Alex could tell the time for civil conversation was over.
‘Please, tell me you didn’t hide it in the house back in Urus-Martan.’ Bronson’s eyes bore into the scientist and Khamid shook his head.
‘No, no, I couldn’t. The Saidullays had already risked enough for me. I might have put them in even more danger. When I received word that the Russians were closing in, I took off and hopefully led them away. Did I?’
The HAWC team stayed silent. Khamid obviously didn’t know that the family had been wiped out.
‘Where, then?’
Alex answered for him: ‘Katyr-Yurt.’
Khamid nodded.
Bronson straightened. Pulling his GPS from its pouch, he ran his fingers across the display. ‘Katyr-Yurt: seven miles, west – heavy terrain. We move, now.’ He glanced back at Khamid. ‘We’ll be moving quickly; you must keep up, sir.’
He didn’t wait for a reply but instead turned to Stozer. ‘Leave them a little surprise – courtesy of Bill Singer.’
She smiled grimly. ‘My pleasure, boss.’
***
A weak sun was just turning the sky a cold steel gray in the east when Borshov and ten of his Spetsnaz killers entered the military camp, each of them still wearing their cyclopean night-vision lenses. The regular soldiers who were awake backed out of the way as the giant and GRU Special Forces strode amongst them.
Borshov walked toward one soldier who had been eating salted beef from a tin; the food now stuck in a throat suddenly gone dry. The soldier rose meekly, trying to stand to attention, but his knees trembled under him. His head only came up to Borshov’s big, bearded chin.
‘Where is your commanding officer?’
The soldier mumbled and pointed to the edge of the camp where a large camouflage tent was set up. Borshov turned and strode toward it.
At the entrance, most of his Spetsnaz formed up in a line, their backs to the tent, guns cradled in their arms. The tent might have once belonged to the squad leader, but now it belonged to them.
Borshov pushed into the tent with two of his men. Captain Serkargov was at a field table with two young officers; at a seat nearby, a thin lieutenant held a damp cloth to his throat.
Serkargov straightened with an audible intake of breath as Borshov loomed like a colossus in the center of the tent. His huge bulk dominated the space and he spoke slowly, almost as if
Khamid hesitated for only a second. What could be worse than where he was heading ? He eased himself down off the back of the truck and allowed the man to lead him into the trees.
***
‘Dr. Denichen Khamid?’
The small man flinched as Bronson towered over him. He could see the fear in his eyes. Khamid sat mute, his body crumpled with exhaustion. Alex knelt beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder. Khamid hunched up as if waiting for a blow.
Sam Stozer pushed in front of Alex and spoke softly over her shoulder. ‘Back off, Frankenstein. You’d be enough to scare anyone this time of the night.’ She offered Khamid a small canister of water. ‘We’re American, sir; you contacted us, and we’re here to help you.’
The Chechen looked up at her. ‘American.’ He visibly relaxed, as if tight wires in his shoulders had been cut. ‘Yes, yes, I am Khamid . . . Dr. Denichen Khamid. I called for you.’ He took the water and swallowed several mouthsful, pausing to gulp air as if he had been holding his breath.
‘Dr. Khamid,’ Bronson prodded. ‘Where is the package – the cell? Are you still in possession of the power cell you mentioned?’
Khamid nodded. ‘Yes. But I hid it. I can’t let them have it . . . They’re looking for me; they’re all looking for me. I thought that I would be taken back to Moscow to be tortured. I thought . . .’ His eyes widened. ‘You need to get me out. I need . . . I need . . .’
Bronson leaned closer and took hold of him, shaking him gently. Alex could tell the time for civil conversation was over.
‘Please, tell me you didn’t hide it in the house back in Urus-Martan.’ Bronson’s eyes bore into the scientist and Khamid shook his head.
‘No, no, I couldn’t. The Saidullays had already risked enough for me. I might have put them in even more danger. When I received word that the Russians were closing in, I took off and hopefully led them away. Did I?’
The HAWC team stayed silent. Khamid obviously didn’t know that the family had been wiped out.
‘Where, then?’
Alex answered for him: ‘Katyr-Yurt.’
Khamid nodded.
Bronson straightened. Pulling his GPS from its pouch, he ran his fingers across the display. ‘Katyr-Yurt: seven miles, west – heavy terrain. We move, now.’ He glanced back at Khamid. ‘We’ll be moving quickly; you must keep up, sir.’
He didn’t wait for a reply but instead turned to Stozer. ‘Leave them a little surprise – courtesy of Bill Singer.’
She smiled grimly. ‘My pleasure, boss.’
***
A weak sun was just turning the sky a cold steel gray in the east when Borshov and ten of his Spetsnaz killers entered the military camp, each of them still wearing their cyclopean night-vision lenses. The regular soldiers who were awake backed out of the way as the giant and GRU Special Forces strode amongst them.
Borshov walked toward one soldier who had been eating salted beef from a tin; the food now stuck in a throat suddenly gone dry. The soldier rose meekly, trying to stand to attention, but his knees trembled under him. His head only came up to Borshov’s big, bearded chin.
‘Where is your commanding officer?’
The soldier mumbled and pointed to the edge of the camp where a large camouflage tent was set up. Borshov turned and strode toward it.
At the entrance, most of his Spetsnaz formed up in a line, their backs to the tent, guns cradled in their arms. The tent might have once belonged to the squad leader, but now it belonged to them.
Borshov pushed into the tent with two of his men. Captain Serkargov was at a field table with two young officers; at a seat nearby, a thin lieutenant held a damp cloth to his throat.
Serkargov straightened with an audible intake of breath as Borshov loomed like a colossus in the center of the tent. His huge bulk dominated the space and he spoke slowly, almost as if
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