after the big SVR guy. He’s pursuing an unarmed man who is almost certainly the defector.”
“Delta 1.” The Q man was screaming over the sound of gunfire. “Men have just taken out my two Poles. There’re six of them, and they’re firing at us as well. But they’re not the Russian SVR men.”
“What?”
Delta 1 did not answer, and before Will could speak again, another voice shouted in his earpiece. “Delta 9. My two locals have just engaged four SVR men on the island. I’m going to get on their flank and assist the Poles with . . . What the hell?”
Will shouted, “Delta 9? What’s happening?”
The noise of automatic gunfire was continuous.
“Delta 9: my locals and the SVR men are dead. Killed by the other team. I can see you, Zulu. I’m thirty yards behind you.”
Will got to his feet just as the Q operative got alongside him. Both men began running east, in the direction of the big SVR officer and the defector, their guns pointing at the darkness and fog ahead of them. Muzzle flashes were visible coming from the other side of the canal on their left.
“No, no!”
Will grabbed his throat mic. “Delta 1?”
Nothing.
“Delta 1?”
“Delta 1: They’re . . . they’re dead.”
“Who?”
“The Russians, the Poles, my men. Fucking everyone!”
Incredulity struck Will. “Get onto the island! Head west. We’re pursuing the defector.”
Will and Delta 9 suddenly stopped. In the distance ahead of them they could see the long road that led over the western bridge. Lights straddled it, and easily visible were three men running at full speed toward the crossing. The defector, the SVR officer, and the last remaining Polish operative.
Will raised his gun and moved its muzzle so that it was pointing slightly in front of the Russian’s body. Tensing, he pulled back the trigger. But the moment his gun fired, the SVR officer stopped. Will’s bullet passed in front of him. Will looked beyond the officer to the far side of the bridge. A van was heading fast toward the defector. The Polish operative and the SVR officer began firing at the oncoming van.
Will and Delta 9 sprinted and fired at the front windows of the vehicle. As they did so, they saw the SVR officer raise his gun and fire one bullet. The defector stumbled, then carried on moving toward the van, one of his legs limping. Nine men poured out of the van. They were dressed in fire-resistant black combat overalls, upper body and head armor, and night-vision goggles, and were carrying submachine guns.
Some of them fired at the SVR officer and the Polish operative behind him; others fired toward Will and Delta 9. Whatever handgun the SVR officer was carrying, it was obviously much more powerful than those being carried by Will and his team. The officer fired two rounds at two of the hostiles and dropped them both. Will dodged left and right, fired three times at three of the hostiles, and saw his bullets simply glance off their body armor.
“Delta 1: I’m pinned down! Center of the island.”
Will looked toward the end of the bridge. Three of the hostiles ran along the crossing, passed the defector, and fired their automatic weapons at the Russian and Polish operatives. Both men remained stock still, firing their handguns at the hostiles. Two other men ran to the defector, grabbed him, pulled him toward the van, and bundled him into the vehicle. Then five of the hostiles started slowly walking along the bridge, firing their weapons continuously. Will stopped. He felt useless. The hostiles knew that they controlled the ground. The Polish operative fell down as one bullet struck him in the face. The Russian’s powerful handgun boomed, flipping one of the hostiles off his feet and backward. The Russian then turned, looked at the prone Polish officer, looked back at the encroaching force, fired a couple more shots toward them, and ran to the stricken Pole.
Will watched the hostiles move back to the van and enter the vehicle. The van