The Action Pack Box Set, page 96
‘That seems uncharacteristically honourable of him,’ Sigby pointed out.
‘There is much, here, that I believe we have been led to misunderstand. He has asked for you, by name, to accompany the prisoner exchange and travel to meet him.’
‘Me?’ Sigby uttered in surprise. ‘Why?’
‘I do not know, Martin, but I believe that it needs to be done, and that you can do your job more effectively once you have all of the information.’ One thick hand gripped Sigby’s shoulder briefly and then the president turned away, walking back toward his desk. ‘Go and attend to your work. Tell the truth; nothing but the truth, whatever shape that truth may take.’
Sigby turned, his chest filled with righteous determination and his mind blazing with pride in what he might accomplish. He opened the door and stepped outside into the corridor, closing the door behind him. He turned and walked straight into the cold barrel of a pistol that touched his forehead. Sigby’s heart stopped in his chest for a moment as he stared into the hard and unforgiving eyes of Alexei Severov.
Before he could utter even a single word or cry of help or warning a hand clamped over his mouth and strong arms dragged him backwards and away from the president’s door. Thick tape was plastered across his mouth and Sigby was literally lifted into the air.
The police commander did not speak. Instead he simply pushed his finger over his own lips in a gesture for his men to remain silent, and then pointed down the corridor. The guards carried Sigby swiftly toward the rear of the building, to places that Sigby had never seen before.
***
54
The guards descended the steps with their squirming, writhing burden, the temperature falling as they moved into the bowels of Government House.
Sigby smelled the odours of damp, rotting canvass and oil–burning candles. They were carrying him down into what seemed like a basement, the walls made of old stone, cold and featureless. As he was carried, Sigby looked to one side out of a row of windows to where tall chain–link fences seperated a military parade ground from what looked like large kennels. The reporter’s eyes widened as he saw huge dogs padding around within the compound.
Suddenly, the guards carrying him reached a door, kicked it open and carried Sigby inside before dropping him unceremoniously onto the cold stone floor. The guards closed the door behind them, unslinging their weapons from their shoulders and standing guard either side of the door, behind Severov.
The room was large, stretching away into the darkness behind Sigby. Stone pillars supported a wooden ceiling above, while the sides of the room were taken up with racks holding laundry, steel tins and food stocks.
Sigby struggled to his feet and ripped the duct–tape from his mouth as Alexei Severov stood watching. Sigby glared at the police chief.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?!’
Severov took a single pace toward Sigby, span on his heel and directed a straight side–kick into the centre of Sigby’s chest. The reporter was lifted off the ground as his breath burst from his lungs and his vision starred. His body rotated in mid air and slammed into a stone pillar. Sigby crashed to the ground, gasping for air.
‘You will learn respect,’ Severov stated matter–of–factly, ‘for your life now depends upon it.’
Sigby crawled onto his hands and knees, coughing as his chest heaved and beads of sweat broke out on his brow. ‘Go to hell,’ he wheezed.
Severov laughed, glancing at the two guards, who were smiling also.
‘You have accquired a new sense of courage,’ Severov observed, approaching the kneeling reporter. The police chief’s face twisted with pathological fury. ‘I find it most disappointing.’
The police commander grabbed Sigby by the hair and yanked him up onto his knees and then span on one heel, driving the point of his knee into Sigby’s left kidney. Sigby felt white pain rip through his body and gagged reflexively as he spun onto his back, his skull smacking against the stone floor.
‘A pity,’ Severov said as he looked down at Sigby’s writhing form. ‘I much preferred the selfish little bastard that you were before. Still, there is the chance for redemption, should you wish to take it.’
Sigby was crying now, hugging his own body as though it were that of a new–born. He rolled onto his side, struggling through his pain, trying to regain his breath and his senses. He peered up at Severov through bleary eyes, his teeth gritted as he spoke.
‘They’ll look for me,’ he whispered in impotent fury. ‘You’ll not get away with this. They are expecting me, in Talyn.’
Severov smiled in mock pity, tilting his head to one side as he looked down at the reporter.
‘Who, Martin? Who is expecting you? Who will come looking? Your cameraman is on his way back to the hotel, safe and sound in the knowledge that you are in audience with the president right now. The rebel forces cannot contact the UN nor the Americans. Nobody will miss you, Martin. Nobody at all.’
Sigby’s senses finally straightened enough for him to think.
‘You,’ he said finally. ‘It was you who killed those scientists.’
Severov shrugged, speaking as he examined the tips of his fingernails.
‘They were traitors, enemies of the state.Their actions could have caused the collapse of our future economy, and that would have had unthinkable consequences.’
‘The oil connection,’ Sigby rasped. ‘You’re on someone else’s payroll.’
‘Money makes the world go round,’ Severov said with a smile that conveyed no humour, only pure evil, the evil of mankind’s propensity for greed.
‘The president trusted you,’ Sigby said in horror.
‘Mukhari Akim is a fool, a man who thinks that noble leadership is a replacement for strength, democracy a suitable alternative to true power. He will be gone before this war is done because he stands in the way of progress. Politics, as you know Martin, is just a way of making money out of the masses whilst convincing them that they cannot live without you. Why do you think that there are never any good men in power? Because it is not beneficial to have good men in power, doing good things for the people. There’s too much money to be made for politics to be left in the hands of the good few, or in the hands of the masses who would stand to gain the most from an isocracy, the true rule of the people. If that were the case, Martin, then there would no longer be the corruption, the sleaze and the indictments of elected officials.’
Sigby struggled to his knees, still holding his side.
‘You’re insane,’ he said. ‘You’ll be arrested for your crimes eventually.’
‘Ahhh,’ Severov said, ‘justice will always prevail. Those who commit their crimes shall be punished. That’s what happens to criminals, isn’t it Martin, in your western democratic world? Oh, unless of course, the person in question is themselves a politician, in which case it is all – how do you say? – swept under the carpet.’
Sigby staggered to his feet and somehow managed a choked laugh.
‘You? A politician? You’d never make it through the door.’
Severov whirled and swung his clenched fist down into Sigby’s belly, folding the reporter up with a strained gasp of agony as he collapsed back onto his knees.
‘Self service, Martin, is what politics is all about. And as for my chances, I should imagine that President Akim should be delighted that I take his place as leader of this country. Even if he isn’t, I’m sure that America would be only too happy to place someone in power who is more inclined to lead in a way that they deem suitable.’
‘They’ll find out,’ Sigby gasped. ‘Sooner or later, and you’ll fall.’
Severov crouched down alongside the correspondent.
‘No, they won’t, Mister Sigby, because you are going to make sure that they love me. You are going to make the world cheer my name as the saviour of Mordania. And you’re going to tell me where I can find Megan Mitchell and Amy O’Hara.’
Sigby, despite his pain and his fear, shook his head.
‘Not a chance. If you’re going to kill me, then kill me, but I’ll not say a word to support you or tell you where Megan is.’
‘Kill you?’ Severov whispered into Sigby’s ear, and then tutted mockingly. ‘I’m not going to kill you, Martin. Far from it. You are going to live a long and healthy life my friend. But if you do not do exactly as I say, I will kill her.’
Sigby didn’t understand for a moment, then turned his head to see Severov jabbing a thumb over his own shoulder. Sigby looked, and his heart missed a beat.
Sophie D’Aoust was on her knees, bound by her wrists and her ankles, lying on the floor perhaps six metres from where Martin himself lay. Her eyes were swollen and bruised, dried blood caked on her lips, her hair dishevelled.
‘Such a shame,’ Severov said, ‘such beauty wasted. She will live only as long as you serve both myself and my future cabinet. Should you fail, well, a traitorous woman who has vanished from her country will not be missed, by her people or by her government. She’ll make good sport for my dogs.’
Sigby lunged toward Severov and lashed out with his teeth, sinking them into the police commander’s cheek and biting with inhuman savagery. He felt the commander’s flesh crunch and rip in his bite, tasted thick and coppery blood as it spilled down his chin onto the bare stone, heard Severov’s deafening, anguished scream in his ear.
A chunk of flesh parted with a sickening, sucking sound as Severov hurled himself away. Sigby spat out the bloody mass of tissue as the commander whirled and swung his boot into Sigby’s belly. Sigby doubled over as the contents of his stomach splattered across the stones at his feet.
Severov ploughed into him like a freight train, his boots and fists flying.
The sound of the reporter’s agonised cries were not loud enough to escape past the heavy basement door and its guards.
***
55
‘Pick up damn it!’
Megan listened to Martin Sigby’s answerphone for the eighth time and then angrily shut the satellite phone off.
‘Maybe he’s doing a broadcast,’ Callum said.
Megan ran a hand through her hair in exasperation and turned to look at Bolav, who was working at the kitchen table on the camera.
‘How’s that coming?’
‘Almost there,’ she said. ‘Most of the camera is broken now from the cold and damp, but the memory cartridge is fine. Here we go.’
Bolav plugged a USB cable into the camera and then ran it to the computer in the corner of the room. Alexandre, standing to one side, watched as the Mordanian plugged the USB cable into the computer and then tapped a few key commands.
‘Donwloading,’ he said, as Megan and Callum gathered beside him.
‘I don’t know if I want to watch this,’ Alexandre said.
As Megan watched, the computer’s video player began running film. For a few seconds the screen was blank, and then the screen showed the village in the forest, the scientists being lined up by what looked like rebel soldiers but could have been the secret police wearing fake uniforms. Megan saw Petra Milosovich being shown photographs, shaking his head, then being lined up by the soldiers against a wall before being gunned down in cold blood. The screen went blank.
‘Ella mon Giet,’ Bolav murmured, and touched his index finger to his forehead and shoulders.
‘There’s more,’ Callum said, pointing to the screen.
Moments later, they could see Amy O’Hara running away from the camera, across a forest clearing. She halted abruptly in the distance, her hands in the air as a soldier appeared nearby, his weapon aimed unwaveringly at her.
They watched as the rest of the soldiers arrived in the clearing, accompanied by the huge Mastiffs that bayed and growled and strained at their leashes. An officer walked out from their ranks, and Megan’s complexion darkened.
‘Severov.’
It took no more than three or four minutes for the rest of the film to play out, and for the soldier’s gunshot to end Amy O’Hara’s suffering. They watched as Severov killed the soldier responsible and arranged the two bodies, then the small force began abandoning the lonely clearing.
Lieutenant Cole’s expression was murderous as he looked across at Megan.
‘I want that man’s head in my hands, Mitchell. I want to look into his eyes before I kill him.’
Megan watched the screen as Severov and his men left the scene. Callum gestured to the timer–bar at the bottom of the screen.
‘The camera stayed on for another couple of hours,’ she said.
Megan nodded.
‘Speed it forward.’
Bolav complied, and within an hour new figures emerged into the clearing from a different direction.
‘Alexandre,’ Megan said, and the farmer crossed the room to look at the screen, surprise etched into his features.
‘Yes, that is Dimitri and myself.’
Megan watched as they located Amy’s near–dead body, and carefully carried her and the dead soldier away from the clearing, descending the opposite side of the valley and out of shot. Megan straightened.
‘That’s it, all we need to finish the Mordanian secret police. We get all of this back to the city and to the United Nations offices as soon as our ride arrives.’
‘You might have to be quicker than that,’ Alexandre said.
Megan turned to look at him, about to ask why, when she saw the direction of the farmer’s gaze. He was looking out of the kitchen windows with a concerned look upon his face.
Megan strode across to the window and peered outside.
‘What is it?’ Bolav asked.
‘Trouble,’ Megan replied. ‘The rebels are coming.’
Outside on the distant horizon, a train of troop transports, artillery pieces and hundreds of troops were advancing toward them across the snowy wilderness.
Lieutenant Cole picked up his M–16.
‘It’s time to leave.’ He looked at Megan. ‘All of us.’
*
USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN–71)
Black Sea
‘All elements away, wave complete sir.’
Admiral Fry nodded without looking at the lieutenant who had spoken, turning instead to his Executive Officer.
‘Sit–rep?’
‘All clear,’ the XO said with a touch of caution in his voice. ‘The Hawkeyes report no aerial activity either over Georgia, as expected, or over Mordania. If there’s going to be an air war, this Rameron man needs to get his jets up or they’ll be smashed to pieces on the ground.’
Admiral Fry thought for a moment.
‘I want the forward fighters to maintain standard Combat Air Patrols over Mordanian airspace. Tell the Forward Air Controller to direct the strike packages to attack SAM sites and artillery defences only.’
The XO glanced at his Admiral for a moment.
‘You’re still bothered about what Miller reported to you?’
‘Not bothered, just curious.’
‘She’s just over–hyped by the combat, looking for ways to justify the fact that she’s killed someone. Happened in Vietnam all the time, you know that.’
Admiral Fry nodded vacantly.
‘Maybe, but if they’re not even putting up defensive CAPs with their fighters, it begs the question of their commander’s intentions, does it not? It’s no secret that we’re coming – with all the damned media coverage I’d be surprised if anyone didn’t know we were coming. He’s not defending himself.’
‘Another ploy, to earn media sympathy. We can’t stand around here wringing our hands or putting our heads up our asses worrying about consequences.’ The XO straightened apologetically. ‘Sir.’
‘Eloquently put,’ Admiral Fry noted. ‘None the less, hold the strike packages back from attacking any infrastructure other than offensive anti–aircraft emplacements and troop concentrations inside Talyn.’
The XO hesitated only for a moment longer before relaying the order.
Admiral Fry looked at the radar tracks of his fighter wings and strike packages soaring away toward Mordania.
‘Let’s see what’s really on your mind, General Rameron,’ he whispered to himself.
*
‘Move, damn it!’
Lieutenant Cole’s voice sounded stark in the crisp morning air as he hurried across a rutted track toward the tree line. Callum struggled along behind with the SEAL team following, placing themselves between the advancing rebel forces and Megan’s beleaguered little group. Alexandre waited for them beside the tree line of the enclosing forests. Megan’s arms ached already from the strain of carrying Amy on her hastily constructed stretcher, and Bolav’s diminutive form seemed positively crushed beneath the burden.
‘You’ll never make it in time, Thessalia’s too far,’ Alexandre said worriedly as Megan reached his side.
‘No choice,’ Megan replied. ‘The rebels will have found their dead companions and tracked us here, and we’ve got to get this film back to the UN fast. If they see what really happened, it could prevent this war.’
Alexandre seemed worn down by the events that had overtaken his life and his country.
‘Megan, we’re already at war. This isn’t about genocide or democracy, it’s about money and power, just like all of the wars that have been fought by men since the beginning of civilisation. There is no such thing as a righteous conflict, only a dignified defence.’
Megan was about to speak when the noise of jet aircraft split the sky high above the frozen fields and valleys. They all looked up to see four sleek fighter jets streaking across the sky thousands of feet above them. Megan had no doubt that they were American aircraft, and she grabbed Alexandre’s shoulder.
‘You’re coming with us. It is no longer safe here.’
The old farmer offered her a wan smile. ‘Is it safe anywhere?’
Megan sighed heavily and looked away toward the rapidly closing troops and armour.
‘They may think that you and your wife were harbouring the enemy,’ she said.
