Chapter Thirty-four
Outskirts of Buinosky, Dagestan
December 6, 4:15 a.m.
They slithered across the hills covered by underbrush and thickets under the cover of darkness. The snow reflected some of the dim glow of the moon as it occasionally showed its gloomy face from behind a thick curtain of gray clouds. Justin led the way through knee-deep snow, followed by Svetlana about four or five steps behind him, with Ludomir at the rear. They stopped at irregular intervals to watch for anyone patrolling the road leading into the town. They saw no one but a couple of stray dogs howling and chasing each other.
Five minutes later, Justin and his team reached the first house at the southern part of Buinosky. It was a large two-story building painted a serene blue, with a high wall topped with barbwire. Justin rested his back against the wall and listened for noises from inside the house. It was all quiet.
“Team One is at the edge of town,” Justin whispered on the throat mike connected to the portable radio inside one of his chest rig pouches. “Moving northward. Over.”
He gestured to Svetlana and stepped forward with caution along the side of the wall. He took a peek around the corner and down the main road cutting through this area of town. No signs of life. He moved forward and stood next to the steel gate of the house. He glanced through the gap between the gate and the wall and noticed a Mercedes-Benz SUV parked at the side of the house. The vehicle would have helped them cover the distance in a very short time, but even if they were able to force the owner to hand over the keys without making a sound, the engine noise would wake up the sleepy town. They were to advance toward the target’s house on foot, and, because of the change of plans, there were about thirty houses to pass, or nearly a mile to cross, without being detected by someone who would sound the alarm.
Justin continued along the wall and reached the next house. This one looked like it could use a coat of paint and new windows. Long icicles were hanging along the eaves, signs of other problems with the house.
A narrow back alley appeared and Justin cast a sweeping glance over both sides. A creak came from his left and he fell back at once. He held up his arm in a tight fist to signal to Svetlana and Ludomir to stop.
“What’s the matter?” Ludomir’s voice came over his earpiece.
“Movement at nine o’clock,” Justin whispered.
He backtracked and crouched behind a wooden electricity pole. He readied his weapon, waiting for his target to appear from behind the corner.
They waited for a few long moments. There was a low grating sound followed by a shuffle, like someone shaking the snow off their shoes, and then a creak and the slam of a door.
“Are we clear?” Svetlana asked.
Justin shook his head. “Negative. Wait for confirmation.”
He pressed forward to the end of the house and took a fleeting look. A large wooden barrel was next to the back door of the house.
“We’re clear,” he said. “Someone’s getting a head start on the day.”
They reached the next house and the one after that without encountering any more residents. A couple of houses up ahead, a blue light flickered in the window, then it flashed in different shades of red and green. Justin raised his AK as he walked next to the gray wall, on the other side of which someone was watching television or playing a video game. From the low sound reaching the street, it sounded like a racing game.
A rotten stench came from a barn next to the house across the street. Justin cut to the other side to minimize the chances of being discovered by a dog guarding the animals. He thought he heard some neighing in the distance and assumed there was a stable somewhere beyond the barn.
“Team Two entering the town,” a loud, harsh voice came into Justin’s earpiece.
He rushed to adjust the volume, then said, “This is Team One, roger that. Team Three, what’s your location?”
A pause, then a low voice answered, “About a mile from the first houses.”
“Roger that,” Justin said.
He glanced at Svetlana, who gave him the thumbs-up sign.
Justin gestured toward the back alley to the right.
Svetlana nodded her understanding, then repeated the hand signal for Ludomir, who replied with the thumbs-up and a nod.
Justin entered the back alley and advanced at a quick pace. He tried to remember the outline of the town, but they had focused most of their time on the northern part and in the area around Kaziyev’s safe house. The change of plans had forced them to infiltrate the town through another direction, treading unfamiliar grounds. Justin hoped the greater distance from the terrorist mastermind meant this neighborhood was not crawling with terrorists and Kaziyev’s security guards, but with everyday people unfortunate enough to share the same town with one of the world’s most wanted men.
He had come to a small intersection when the roar of a diesel engine filled the cold night. Justin thought it was a powerful generator until he saw faint backing-up lights of a white Nissan SUV backing out of the alley to his right.
“Movement at three o’clock. Fall back, fall back,” Justin said on his mike.
He took six or seven steps back but there were not many places to hide. He tried the first gate to his left, but it was locked from inside. He rattled it for a moment, trying to make as little noise as possible, but the gate did not budge.
“Across the street and behind you, Justin. Over the fence,” Svetlana’s voice whispered in his ear.
Justin turned his head and spotted the place near the fence where the snow had been trampled. The wooden fence was about six feet high with a few boards missing in some places. Justin hurried and climbed over, and threw his body to the other side just as he saw glaring headlights cut through the night right behind him.
He rolled on the snow, burying his body next to Svetlana. She had her AK at the ready and was looking through a gap in the fence.
“Where’s Ludomir?” he asked.
“Don’t know,” she replied.
“Ludomir, come in, where are you?” Justin said over the mike.
No answer.
“Ludomir, come in,” Justin said again, this time a bit louder and with a nervous tinge in his voice.
The Nissan’s brakes screeched as the driver came to the intersection, then they heard the engine roar as the driver stepped on the gas. The SUV lunged forward and zipped past them, its tires lifting chunks of ice and clumps of mud and snow. The fence blocked most of the debris from raining upon their heads other than a couple of mud splatters that landed on Justin’s Kevlar helmet.
Justin said, “Wow, that was a close—”
Another screech of the tires interrupted his words. The Nissan stalled. Doors opened hastily, but they did not hear their closing thud. Instead, heavy boots began to pound the packed snow of the alley, the sound drawing nearer.
Justin said, “Ludomir, come in.”
A loud, angry shout came from a dozen or so steps away to their left.
“I’ve been made,” Ludomir’s voice came over the radio.
A split second later, the crackle of an AK shattered the silent night. It was a quick burst, five or six rounds, followed by a scream of agony on the other side of the fence, and another round, which put an end to it.
Ludomir said, “Nissan’s clear, we’re—”
A long barrage cut off his words, but a sigh of pain still came to Justin’s earpiece. More gunfire erupted a few houses to the right. Lights began to turn on, first in the house across the street, then all around them.
“Team One’s taking fire,” Justin said. “Advance to target as planned.”
He crawled to the fence and looked at the Nissan. Ludomir was lying on his back halfway between the rear wheels and the wall of the next house. Muzzle flashes came from the second-story window of the house further down the alley. The shooter fired a hurried burst toward Justin’s fallen teammate.
“Ah!” Ludomir groaned in a very weak voice.
Justin barely heard him but that groan told him Ludomir was alive, but not for long. Not if the shooter kept up his barrage and Ludomir lay in the alley.
Justin stretched forward, aimed his AK at the window, and fired a three-round burst. His bullets hit their target and the shooter, along with his weapon, plunged through the window and came crashing down onto the ground. Justin squeezed another two-round burst at the motionless body of the shooter for good measure.
“Cover fire, Svetlana,” Justin said and rushed along the fence through the backyard covered in snow.
A light switched on behind them. Svetlana turned her AK in that direction. Whoever had flicked the light on thought better of it and no one came outside. Svetlana stepped cautiously backward, covering all angles with her assault rifle.
Justin burst through the fence’s gate and onto the street. He swung his AK left and right, up and down, as he pressed forward toward Ludomir. A burst of gunfire came from the back and bullets kicked up ice slivers by his feet.
He turned around and fired blindly into the night, a long barrage with bullets spread around in a wide pattern. He fell to one knee by the wall of the next house. Two seconds later a man popped up behind the corner diagonally across from him. Justin fired twice and planted two bullets in the man’s head.
Svetlana was in the alley covering his back. Justin reached Ludomir and checked his vitals. The Russian had a deep wound on his right upper thigh. Another bullet had grazed his left arm.
“You’ll be all right,” Justin said to him. “Svetlana, I’m patching up Ludomir,” he added and dropped his knapsack next to him.
“Team Two under fire,” a man’s voice came on the air.
“Team Three reporting no resistance,” Bronislav said in a calm, firm voice. “Moving on target.”
A couple of slugs slammed against the Nissan’s door. Justin crouched for cover next to the SUV, then picked up Ludomir’s Kord heavy machine gun. He set it up hastily on its bipod, then aligned it with the two-story house straight ahead, from where he suspected the shooter had set up his position.
A Toyota truck fishtailed from a side street as the driver lost control over the ice. It almost crashed into a wall, but the driver was able to straighten its wheel and rush forward, coming toward Justin.
Big mistake, Justin thought.
He fired his machine gun, pouring a torrent of 12.7mm rounds toward his target. The hood of the Toyota exploded. The cover flew over the window and a couple of slugs pierced the windshield. The driver was either torn to pieces or lost control of the truck. It crashed into the cinder-block wall of a house and rolled over onto the driver’s side.
Before Justin could heave a breath of relief, Svetlana’s voice came clear in his earpiece, “RPG!”
Justin heard the RPG’s bone-chilling screech, followed by a loud explosion. The warhead smashed into the second story of the house, tearing a big hole. Broken blocks and mortar chunks hailed over Justin’s head and shoulders.
“What the hell happened?” he shouted.
He could not even hear his own voice and everything around him had sunk into a strange silence. He figured the explosion must have numbed his eardrums.
“Svetlana, I’ve lost my hearing,” he said as he crawled for safety behind the Nissan, dragging the machine gun with him.
A few bullets sprayed sparks very close to his head. Justin noticed muzzle flashes about a hundred yards in the distance. He straightened the ammunition belt of his machine gun, aimed the weapon and let off a quick burst. The muzzle flashes died down.
Justin moved the barrel about an inch higher and aimed at a couple of windows to his left, where he had spotted more muzzle flashes. He pulled the trigger and his large, powerful rounds smashed through the windows and the wall.
A grenade exploded about six feet in front of him. Ice slivers struck against the left side of his face. Justin fell back and slid underneath the Nissan. Blood began to trickle down his neck. He removed his right-hand glove and checked his wound. It was not deep, so he decided not to worry about it at the moment.
A crackle that resembled a human voice came over his earpiece. His hearing was returning, albeit slowly. The words were still muffled and distant.
Justin noticed someone stand up next to the rolled-over Toyota and fire a few rounds. They thumped against the Nissan’s body.
More bullets pounded the ground around him as Justin set up position by the front of the SUV and blasted round after round, dismantling the Toyota piece by piece. One of his bullets lifted off some sparks and the Toyota exploded into a large orange fireball. A man engulfed in flames burst out of the wreck and fell to the ground, twitching and twisting as if possessed by demons. Justin fired a single shot and ended the man’s misery.
Someone opened fire from the house where Svetlana and Justin had initially sought shelter. Their bullets shredded the fence and a few struck the Nissan’s doors.
More bursts of gunfire sprayed his position from the opposite side. Justin turned his machine gun to the new enemies and saw a man standing atop the terrace of a three-story house. Justin let off a couple of rounds, but the man kept shooting back, then dropped behind the roof’s parapet.
An RPG sliced the night sky with its amber streak. It came from behind Justin and it whooshed past the Nissan, blew through the fence and exploded a few feet away. Its shrapnel riddled the area and one or two struck the Nissan, bursting its right-side window glass.
Justin’s eyes found Svetlana stretched in a ditch on the side of the road, partly covered behind a wooden pole and a pile of rubble.
“Svetlana, punch us a hole,” Justin shouted at her.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
Justin was glad to hear her voice loud and clear through his earpiece.
Svetlana reached for her grenade launcher.
A silhouette appeared at the window on the first floor, in Svetlana’s blind spot, with an AK in its hand. Justin pointed his machine gun at that target, but when he pulled the trigger he heard the hollow click. He stared at the ammunition belt. It had tangled as he dragged it across the mud and the snow on the ground.
“Svetla, get down,” he said on his mike.
A seemingly endless barrage drowned his words. The gunman’s bullets danced around Svetlana’s position. Justin grabbed his AK and returned fire, but the gunman kept blasting with his gun, this time toward Justin’s position.
There was a brief pause as the gunman’s magazine ran out. Justin came up to the other side of the Nissan and lay next to Ludomir. The man was no longer breathing. A couple of bullets had pierced his side and one had opened up a big wound on the side of his head.
Justin looked up at the window just as the gunman surfaced a second time. He raised his gun but before he could begin his barrage an RPG came from the ditch across the street. It smashed head-on into the gunman’s window, blowing him up along with a sizable part of the wall, leaving behind a truck-sized gap.
“Ludomir’s dead,” Justin said as he dashed toward the gap. “Clearing up the house.”
“Got you covered,” Svetlana said.
She unleashed a long volley beyond the Nissan, then turned her attention to the house behind her and fired a few more shots to her left. She reloaded her grenade launcher, shouldered the weapon, then squeezed the trigger. The warhead drilled a huge hole in the fence behind her, raced forward, then exploded somewhere inside the house.
Justin ran alongside the wall, leveling suppressing fire at the street in front of him. When he came near the gap in the wall, he pulled a couple of fragmentation grenades from his chest rig. He pulled the pin on one and held the grenade’s striker lever in place by wrapping his fingers tight around it. He counted to ten silently and tossed the grenade inside the room.
The explosion was almost instantaneous. Justin could not see it, but he knew the fragments from the explosion had showered the area inside the room with sharp metal pieces. If there were other gunmen hidden inside the room, they had been cut down by the shrapnel.
Justin waited a couple of moments, then climbed over the debris. He stepped next to the body parts of a gunman. It was probably the man Svetlana had pulverized with her RPG warhead. Another two dead bodies were sprawled a little further, buried under chunks of bricks and fragments of furniture.
He made his way into the hall and the next room, which was smaller than the first one. It was dark but for a sliver of moonlight slithering through a gap in between the drapes. Justin saw a couple of car toys next to a small bunk bed in the corner. Children. Are they still in the house?
He tiptoed back to the hall and entered the kitchen, his eyes flicking back and forth as he covered all directions so as not to be caught off guard by gunmen hiding inside the house. The kitchen was empty. No sign of other men or children.
Justin cleared the bathroom, then climbed upstairs. The two bedrooms were also empty. He studied the backyard for some time from the windows and then double-checked it when he returned to the kitchen.
“House is clear,” Justin said on his mike.
“Roger that,” Svetlana replied.
“Coming out through same route.”
Voices from the other team updated him on their status. Team Two was pinned down and was taking heavy fire. Team Three had yet to engage the enemy, but their advance had slowed down as a result of the fighting. They reported more gunmen rushing toward the location of Team One and Team Two.
“Svetla, we’re taking the Nissan as our transport,” Justin said as he stepped out into the back alley turned into a battleground. “Cover fire.”
“Yes, sir.”
Justin sprinted toward the bullet-ridden SUV. A couple of rounds hissed next to his feet, ricocheting off the walls and the ground. One bullet tore through his left leg, just underneath the knee. Justin cursed and fired against the enemies outnumbering him.
He shifted the weight to his good leg and leaned against the Nissan’s door. He fired again until he emptied his magazine, then slipped inside the car. He reloaded his AK and squeezed out almost half of the fresh magazine through the shattered rear window.
The keys were still in the ignition. Justin turned the car on and the engine roared to life. He had hardly expected the Nissan to still run after taking so many bullets.
“Svetla, time,” he said.
She fired a few more shots as she jogged backwards toward the Nissan.
Justin said, “Carrying in Ludomir.”
He got out and sprayed a long volley, providing some cover fire for Svetlana’s retreat. Then he limped to Ludomir and picked him up in a fireman’s carry over his right shoulder. As he turned around, a bullet thumped against Ludomir’s thigh. Blood spurted from the wound and a few drops landed on Justin’s face and chest. Even dead the Russian had protected him, and possibly had saved his life. That bullet could have gravely wounded Justin or even killed him if it had struck him in the head.
“Thanks, man,” Justin muttered as he laid Ludomir’s body over the back seats.
Svetlana climbed into the front passenger seat and kept shooting through the windshield.
Justin shut the back door, let out another rip of gunfire, and came around the Nissan.
“You okay?” he asked Svetlana.
Her face was bruised and bloodied, but she gave him a tired smile. “Fine, just scratches.”
Justin threw the car into reverse and gunned the engine. “Let’s get the hell out of this death trap and give Team Two a hand.”