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SPECTRE WALKED OUT of the vault and into the hangar where Sparky and Woody were waiting by a large box fan. They were both in shorts and a t-shirt, sweating in the hot hangar.
“What did Kruger say?” Woody asked as he saw Spectre approaching. Spectre had been on a secure VTC with Kruger trying to find out whether the mission would be scrubbed or not after the ambush in Belarus.
“Alexei sold us out to the Bratva thinking the government would pay a ransom. Natasha’s team picked up the Bratva boss. He didn’t know anything about what we were doing out there, other than we were Americans and probably with the government. So, the mission is still a go.”
“What happened to Alexei?” Woody asked.
“I didn’t ask,” Spectre said.
“It’s probably better that you don’t know,” Sparky interjected. “The Russians have their own methods of dealing with people. It’s not all that friendly.”
“Alexei was weird, but he seemed like a nice guy. I actually liked flying with him,” Woody said.
Spectre clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get to work. Sparky, how are you feeling?”
Sparky rubbed the top of his head. “Other than this knot, I’m fine.”
“No headaches or blurry vision?” Spectre asked.
Sparky shook his head. “Nope. Been doing fine.”
“Excellent. Well, let’s get the mats out and get started. Today I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself.”
“Against what?” Woody asked.
“Anything,” Spectre replied.
“Russian gangsters seem like a good enough reason,” Sparky added, tapping his head again.
Spectre led them to a storage closet where they found mats, punching pads, and sparring gear. Woody and Sparky went to work setting the mats up while Spectre retrieved a box of rubber Glocks, knives and a fake AK-47.
Spectre had learned Krav Maga while flying and living in South Florida. He had reached the rank of black belt and become an instructor. He had also been trained by Kruger and the other instructors when he joined Project Archangel. The covert paramilitary organization had trained him in both armed and unarmed combat, demanding that its pilots be just as capable in combat as its Tier One operators.
He started them off on a few warm-up drills. He had them work on their punching and kicking technique, using the air in front of them as a target. After a few minutes of warming up, he made them stretch before handing them the pads to practice punching and kicking.
They went through the various strikes including knee and elbow strikes and then took a ten-minute water break. Spectre paid close attention to Sparky, who seemed to be grimacing a little more each time Woody would strike the pad.
“You okay, Sparky?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sparky replied catching his breath and then downing the rest of his water.
“No headaches or anything?” Spectre asked. Despite the flight docs at Nellis clearing Sparky when they returned to the States, Spectre was still worried. Sparky had lost consciousness in the accident. In any other scenario, that would’ve grounded him for at least six months. But because of the nature of the mission, they were taking chances and pressing ahead. Spectre just wanted to be sure.
“Doing great, boss,” Sparky said as he forced a smile.
“Alright,” Spectre said, clapping his hands. “Let’s work on blocking drills.”
Spectre had Woody turn the pads in his hands and swing at him. He demonstrated the proper technique to block the various strikes and then had them take turns practicing. They both seemed to be picking it up quickly, but he was still worried about Sparky. The longer they practiced, the more he seemed to fade.
“Alright, let’s work on unarmed defenses against firearms,” Spectre said, cutting the practice short. Defenses against weapons were technically more complex, but physically easier and would give Sparky a break.
He started by demonstrating defenses against the knife with the blade up. “You’re going to get cut,” he said as he demonstrated the block for a knife attack from above. “Just accept that fact now when dealing with a knife. That’s why we use forearm blocks and never grab the blade.”
Spectre had Woody and Sparky practice the blocking drills at half speed, one attack variation at a time. When he was satisfied that they were getting the hang of it, he had them increase speed and vary the attacks.
“Very good,” he said. “Now, let’s talk about firearms.”
Once again, Spectre demonstrated before having his duo practice. He had them practice disarming each other from various positions and distances. “Always move out of the line of fire,” Spectre instructed as he critiqued them.
When they were finished, Spectre held up the AK-47 to show them how to disarm a guard. But before he could, Cowboy walked in and interrupted.
“Telephone, mate,” Cowboy said, pointing back toward the door to the vault.
“Kruger?” Spectre asked.
Cowboy nodded and Spectre handed the wooden AK-47 to him. “Show them how to disarm someone,” he ordered.
Cowboy reluctantly accepted the fake weapon as Spectre jogged back to the vault. He went through the various security protocols and found the video teleconferencing software up and running on the desk in the back of the vault.
“Kruger, what’s up?” Spectre asked.
“Jets are ready,” Kruger said. “Jenny will fly Woody and Sparky here tonight.”
“I should probably go with them,” Spectre said. “I’ll ride in the back of Sparky’s jet.”
“Why Sparky?”
“Just to be safe,” Spectre said. “I’m still a little worried about his head injury.”
“Is he okay? How’d he do in training?”
Spectre shrugged. “He said he was fine, but he seemed to be fading toward the end. I had to throttle back.”
“Are you sure that’s not due to conditioning?”
“Could be,” Spectre admitted. “But given everything that’s happened and the jet lag we all have, I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“What about Woody?”
“He’s doing fine,” Spectre said. “No issues today.”
“Good,” Kruger said. “Get some rest and I’ll see you here.”
“What about the other jet?” Spectre asked. A C-17 had picked up the parts and brought them along with Tuna to Edwards to meet Kruger. Churchill had stayed behind as the lone man responsible for the security of the aircraft.
“Still waiting on parts for the C-5. They’re thinking maybe tomorrow.”
“So, we’re not that far off timeline.”
“We’ve been off timeline since the beginning, bub.”
“And you’re sure the threat in Belarus is no longer a factor?”
“Absolutely,” Kruger replied.
Spectre paused for a moment and then asked, “What happened to Alexei?”
“He’s no longer a factor,” Kruger said.
“Dead?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kruger said. “I’ll see you later tonight.”
Kruger ended the conversation, leaving Spectre staring at the VTC conferencing software logo on the screen. He sat back and sighed. He didn’t like the way the mission was unfolding already. He only hoped there were no further complications.