Although the attackers had the element of surprise on their side, the firefight quickly morphed into an entrenched deadlock where neither side could gain the upper hand. The armed men of the guard were experienced and well-trained soldiers. Many had years of combat experience in Afghanistan and Chechnya. Once the initial shock had passed, they repelled the attackers with a merciless barrage of lead. Soon, a fierce battle swayed from one room to the next throughout the desolate airport.
The sound of heavy gunfire thundered through the walls, and intuitively Kaare knew that the time of their escape had arrived. He grunted a few short commands to Holger and Tatjana, and seconds later, heavy footsteps could be heard from the hallway. The next moment, the door was torn open, and Shamil jumped through the doorway, wild-eyed and with a broad hunting knife in his hand. Without a glance at Holger and Tatjana, he resolutely approached Kaare.
‘I want the pleasure of doing this myself,’ said Shamil feverishly and pointed the knife at Kaare’s throat.
To his immense surprise, Kaare swiftly parried the lunge at his throat and, in one fluid motion, put a finger in each of Shamil’s eyes. Overpowered by pain, Shamil staggered backwards with a shrill scream, both hands over his eyes. Kaare’s sudden 383counterattack had caught him completely off guard, and his knife clattered to the floor at Holger’s feet. Holger automatically picked it up and jumped at Shamil. With a firm grip on Shamil’s hair, Holger brutally yanked his head backwards and slit his throat. Blood sprayed violently into the room as he let go, and Shamil collapsed on the floor. The gargling sound of blood and air oozing from the slit throat had not died out when Kaare shouted:
‘Time to go – NOW!’
Kaare handed Shamil’s pistol to Holger and armed himself with the AKS-74U sub-machine gun, checking the magazine and cocking the breech.
‘They certainly haven’t skimped on the hardware,’ Kaare remarked and tightened his grip on the small Kalashnikov.
Holger did not notice the blood on his arms as he focused on securing a round in the chamber of the pistol before resolutely dragging Tatjana with him out of the cell. Kaare running in front, they continued down the deserted corridor as the sounds of the escalating firefight ricocheted between the walls. The fighting absorbed all of Sergey Pustynikov’s men, and Kaare confidently led them through the building. Room by room, corridor by corridor, through abandoned hallways towards freedom.
Sergey Pustynikov realised that the attackers, through the element of surprise and sheer determination, were gaining the advantage over his guard. Even though the guard was fighting heroically, his lifelong military experience told him it was a fight they would lose. Sergey Pustynikov cursed the sentries’ lack of vigilance that had allowed the attackers to breach the main building. My informants in St Petersburg’s OMON special police unit would have warned me if this had been an official operation, he thought irritably. But 384there was no use contemplating it now. The only thing that mattered was survival. That much was clear. Sergey Pustynikov ran as quickly as possible towards the airfield’s garages, where he’d established his temporary headquarters. The massive garage also contained the guard’s weaponry. Enough to start a small civil war, he thought as he, short of breath, stepped inside. Without further ado, he began filling the black Mercedes trunk with handguns and ammo. Next, he went over to the large, rusting gate and slid it aside enough for the car to escape.
At that moment, Andrej Nitchenko came running into the garage. He was visibly terrified. Sergey Pustynikov seized his shoulders and shook him out of shock and ordered him into the car’s front seat. He quickly slammed the door behind him and jumped in behind the wheel of the Mercedes. The powerful engine obeyed immediately as he turned the key in the ignition. He kicked the car into reverse and saw Kaare come running with Holger and Tatjana hot on his heels. The Kalashnikov in Kaare’s hands was a threat he would have to remove immediately, and he hit the brakes mechanically. His right hand found the Vikhr-machine gun in the shoulder holster while he opened the front door. In one motion, Sergey Pustynikov stepped out of the car and squeezed off a short, precise salvo. Holger had spotted the gun in Sergey Pustynikov’s hand and pulled Tatjana behind a pile of large wooden boxes as it spat its deadly fire towards them. Kaare, too, had read the situation and acted instinctively. He pressed the Kalashnikov’s rifle butt to his hip, stretched his left arm, and resolutely steeled his eyes on the target as he squeezed the trigger, letting out bursts of lead. His close-quarter battle skills came into their own many years after the course at the school in Weingarten. The bullets 385hammered into Pustynikov’s chest, and the force of the projectiles was brutal. The effect was compounded by the extreme velocity with which the assault rifle discharged its deadly salvo. The velocity made the bullets spin in their trajectory, mercilessly ploughing through Pustynikov’s body. The shock effect of their crooked entry angle killed him instantly as he slumped on the cold concrete floor. Kaare continued his crouched sprint towards the car, and momentarily the Mercedes was struck by another burst from the sub-machine gun. The red-hot projectiles punched their way into the fuel tank causing it to explode in a blinding fireball.
The flash of light and the shockwave from the exploding Mercedes briefly knocked Holger and Tatjana over, but despite the annoying ringing in their ears, they heard Kaare shouting at them. They were quickly on their feet and sprinted past the burning car, following Kaare out of the garage. The evening chill was soothing as the darkness closed protectively around them and they ran towards the fence surrounding the abandoned airfield.