ARISEN, Book Twelve - Carnage Read Online Free PDF Page B

was… the American commander.
    That motherfucker from the riverbank.
    Now Misha knew where their goddamned mission objective was. “What’s their heading?”
    “Straight toward Djibouti airport. Just as you predicted.”

    Misha nodded to no one. “Anything else?”
    “We’re also visual with a single ground vehicle out in open desert, heading the same direction – point of origin about where you’re standing. Some kind of fucked-up jingle bus.”
    “Leave the helo for now. Destroy the bus.And stand by.”
    Misha dropped the handset, opened the door, swung one bulging leg out onto the mud, and wordlessly regarded Badger and Warchild – as well as the Runt. He was ready for them now. He started with the little one. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you alive again on this side of the river.”
    The Runt didn’t speak, but Warchild did, his voice a lethal rasp. “We found him half-drowned, face down on the riverbank.”
    Misha turned to the old operator, seeming to forget about the Runt. “So – you destroyed their drone-control site.”
    “ Da, Polkóvnik. ”
    “That was not a question, Dipshit McGee. I already knew that. The good news for you two douchenoggins is we got the drone back. The bad news is it was seconds away from cratering. Which means they saw you coming and put it into a dive. Which means you fucked up. Fucked up like a Puerto Rican bicycle.”
    Neither man spoke. They didn’t really know what that meant, and it didn’t really matter. Either Misha would kill them or he wouldn’t. Probably he’d just kick their asses. Unexpectedly, he did neither.
    “Go. Do something.” He started to close the door, then pushed it open again. “No – wait.”
    The two commandos stopped, turned, and waited.
    “Was it the one from the warehouse flying the drone?”
    They didn’t immediately answer.
    “Big-ass orange beard! You know who I mean.”
    They got it now. A nod from Badger sufficed. Misha nodded in turn – he knew it. He dismissed them with a toss of his head, then turned back and got into what had been Major Kuznetsov’s command vehicle – one of the nicer oversized SUVs. It even had a sunroof. The Team 2 commander was now stuck back in the middle of the convoy.
    And in the passenger seat of this one was… their sniper, Vasily.
    Misha knew the others heaped a lot of contempt on him for killing at a distance, for being so far from the fight, for having too little skin in the game. But the thing was, Misha knew Vasily killed a lot more, and a lot more reliably, than any of the knuckle-dragging assaulters. Misha valued outcomes – bodies on the ground. Whether or not Vasily could smell the breath of his victims was his problem.
    Misha grunted again. “Now we’ve just got to get that cocksmoking Seahawk on the ground…”
    * * *
    Bazarov, copilot and gunner, glanced over his shoulder for a last look at the river valley disappearing behind them, as the repaired Black Shark attack helo rose once again into the sky – still powerful and fearsome, but less steady than before. So far on this mission they had absorbed three direct RPG hits, a pasting of explosive rounds from a 25mm Gatling cannon – and, finally, two very near misses with ASRAAM anti-air missiles. The latter had taken their toll. When Bazarov looked forward, all that lay ahead of them was dusty brown wasteland.
    He was not a huge Somalia fan.
    Moreover, he was pretty sure it was the river valley alone that had kept them alive, as Nina insisted on going up against F-35s, UCAVs, RPG-wielding maniacs, and every other manner of threat. They were all the same to her. Nothing gave her pause.
    Which kept him in a constant state of being freaked the hell out.
    And she never told him a damned thing, but he presumed they were now off to kill more Americans, or maybe Brits. It still made no sense to him. Surely the living should be working together. Back before the fall, their unit had done cross-training with the 160th SOAR