Sharp Shot. Justin Richards

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ an explosive.

      “So, what are you waiting for?” said Chance, positioning the first of the high explosive charges against a bank of computer servers. He checked his watch and set the timer.

      When he looked back over his shoulder, the lab was empty.

      Five minutes later, Chance had set explosives at key points around the room. He made sure the vital areas would take the brunt of the blasts: the containment vessels, the centrifuges, the data storage…He took the empty backpack with him—there was no point in leaving behind anything that might identify who had been there. The main reason for using Chance and his team rather than an airstrike was that no one would know for sure who had destroyed the place.

      With the alarms going, the Republican Guards would be hurrying back from the diversion Halford and Darrow had arranged. Assault rifle at the ready and set to deliver continuous automatic fire, Chance ran from the laboratory.

      He had to assume anyone he saw would be hostile. The civilians should be running for their lives. He knew from the regular location and progress updates in his earpiece exactly where all the members of his own team were. Anyone coming back into the facility had to be the enemy. Chance cut down three soldiers in the corridor—taking them out before they even knew he was there.

      Out into the central compound Chance hurled several smoke canisters. It would slow down the returning troops, and it would mask his own escape. A dark shape passed him in the fog of yellow smoke, and Chance shouted at it:

      “The lab is secure,” he yelled in the local dialect. “The problem is in the admin block.” He smiled grimly as he heard his words repeated by the incoming soldiers.

      A bullet meant for Chance ricocheted off the wall close to the main gate. He turned and fired on instinct and a khaki-clad figure collapsed behind him. Chance didn’t wait to see if any others followed. He was running across the sand, away from the noise and confusion, away from the smoke and the bullets. A quick look at his watch told him there was no time to hang around.

      He reached the sand dune and hurled himself over, rolling down the other side and skidding to a halt close to the Jeep.

      Dex Halford looked down at him from where he was sitting nonchalantly in the driver’s seat. The door was open and he was dangling his legs over the side, swigging from his water bottle.

      “What kept you?” Dex asked with a grin.

      McCain was in the passenger seat. “If you’re late you ride in the back,” he called. Then he frowned. “Isn’t Darrow with you?”

      “He’s cutting it fine,” said Chance, checking his watch. The second hand was sweeping up towards the 12. Just a few seconds. “Five,” he muttered as he counted them off. “Four…three…”

      “Here he comes,” said Halford.

      A dark shape rolled down the dune, just as Chance himself had done. “Sorry I’m late,” said Darrow as he reached the Jeep.

      If he said anything else, it was lost in the sound of the blast. The night sky was turned to sudden daylight. Brilliant yellow washed across the landscape and a ball of smoke and fire mushroomed upwards.

      “Time we were going,” said Chance as the noise died away. “You and I get to ride in the back,” he told Darrow, slapping his comrade on the shoulder.

      “Chauffeur service, I love it.” Darrow swung his backpack off and dragged it up into the Jeep with him.

      Chance watched him, puzzled. The backpack was obviously heavy—very heavy. But it should have been empty.

      The Jeep bumped over the rise and tipped down the other side of the dune, gathering speed. In the distance, the installation was burning. Tiny figures—soldiers, civilians and scientists—were milling round it in confusion.

      “Job done,” McCain called from the front of the Jeep.

      “Nice one, team,” Chance told them. “Just two small loose ends to tie up, then we’re home and dry.”

      “And what are those?” Darrow asked.

      “First,” Chance told him, “there’s the small matter of the team photograph. And second—I want to know what you’ve got in your rucksack.”

      Darrow met Chance’s gaze. For a moment he said nothing. Then he looked away. “Souvenir. I’ll show you when it gets light.”

      The plan was to cross the border into East Araby, a small country to the south east of Iraq, also bordering Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. By daybreak, Chance’s team was within a hundred and fifty kilometres of the border. In the Jeep, it would take only a few more hours.

      They heard the plane long before they saw it.

      “One of ours?” Darrow wondered.

      “Doubt it,” said Halford. “We need to find some cover.”

      “Camouflage netting?” McCain suggested.

      Chance shook his head. “We have to assume they’re looking for us. We’ll need better cover than that.” He had the map open on his knees. “Head slightly to the left, over that rise. There should be the remains of a village.”

      A small black shape skimmed the horizon over to their right. The plane turned slowly, heading back towards them.

      “Has it seen us?” Darrow wondered.

      “Not yet,” Chance shouted above the roar of the Jeep as Halford accelerated. “Might see the sand we’re kicking up, but we’ll have to risk that.”

      McCain had his binoculars out. “Iraqi air force markings. It’s a Foxbat.”

      Chance swore. The MiG25—codenamed Foxbat by NATO forces—was a powerful aircraft. It was fast enough to outrun an air-to-air missile, but the good news was that it didn’t carry ground-attack weapons. It was used for reconnaissance and interception only. Banking steeply, it disappeared into the distance.

      Ahead of them were the remains of the village. It was more like a small town—derelict stone-built structures disappearing into the distance. Most of the roofs had collapsed, some buildings reduced to just a couple of broken walls.

      “You could get lost in there for a week,” said McCain.

      Halford steered the Jeep rapidly between several low walls, then over a bank of sand and into the enclosed remains of a house. The Jeep jolted to a stop, and immediately Darrow and Chance were unrolling the camouflage netting and dragging it over the vehicle.

      All four of them were out of the building in moments, taking shelter in the shadow of a section of wall thirty metres away. If the Foxbat returned, it was more likely to spot the Jeep. If it did, they wanted to be far away from it.

      “Can’t hear anything,” said McCain. “Maybe we’re OK?”

      “Give it half an hour,” Chance decided. “It may have spotted us and called in support. We don’t want to be caught in the open if it comes back, especially if he’s got company.”

      “Time for the team photo then,” Halford decided. СКАЧАТЬ