The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,119
the hell happened here?’
‘Get him up.’ They picked up Tony, who moaned. ‘We need to get everyone on the plane, now. The Hind’s on its way back.’
The older man regarded his fallen comrades with anguish. ‘We can’t leave them behind!’
‘The living have priority. Get everyone aboard. Did you talk to the pilot?’
‘He’ll do what we tell him,’ Baxter assured him coldly. They started for the jetty, carrying Tony between them. ‘Everybody, get to the plane! Rossovich, bring the pilot! Spence, you’ve got the other guy!’
‘Stay with me, Dr Childs,’ said Perez as Bianca emerged fearfully from the building, carrying the cases. Rossovich, the XM500 slung from a shoulder, followed them out, one hand clenched on the co-pilot’s collar as the other shoved his pistol into the young man’s back. Behind him, Spence pushed Qasid at gunpoint. ‘Okay, let’s move.’
Everyone headed for the pier, eyes sweeping the trees. ‘Kyle, do you see the gunship?’ Adam asked as he reached the jetty.
‘Not yet.’ They might have enough time to get airborne, then . . .
Morgan cut in through the earwig. ‘Adam, where’s al-Rais?’
‘In the woods somewhere.’
‘You’ve got to recapture him!’
‘There isn’t time.’ He checked the trees to the north again. Still no sign of the terrorist leader. ‘We’ve got the imprint, we can—’
A crackle of gunfire – from the south.
Rossovich was hit by several bullets and tumbled to the snowy ground. The co-pilot took another round to his abdomen. He fell, screaming. Everyone else on the shore scrambled for cover, Perez practically throwing Bianca behind a pile of scrap before diving alongside her.
Adam and Baxter, Tony still hanging limply between them, were completely exposed on the jetty. They turned to find the threat, knowing that a second burst would finish them . . .
It didn’t come. ‘Go!’ said Baxter. They ran back along the pier and jumped down into the meagre cover it provided at the shoreline, ice crunching and snapping underfoot as they landed. Freezing water splashed over Adam’s feet. He ignored it, concentrating on locating their enemy.
He should have known. Al-Rais was always willing to take calculated risks. Instead of going straight for the nearer trees, he had stayed in the open for the extra seconds needed to cross the tracks and find cover on the cutting’s southern side. Part of him felt a gloating pride at having outsmarted the infidels—
He crushed the feeling. ‘Where is he?’ he called.
‘I think he’s in the big building,’ someone shouted back.
Adam cautiously peered at what had not long earlier been his own hiding place. Several windows, and the terrorist could be behind any of them – or none. Never stay still, said the unwelcome resident in his mind. A fly that lands gets swatted.
Seconds passed. Still no further gunfire – but a wail from the wounded Russian told Adam that al-Rais had fired all the shots he needed. Without the pilot, the American team had no way to escape. Some of them, Adam included, had received basic flight training – but none knew how to pilot a jet-powered seaplane.
The Hind was no more than five minutes away. They wouldn’t stand a chance against it . . .
Another scream – and he knew what he had to do.
‘Bianca!’ Adam yelled. ‘Set up the PERSONA!’
‘What?’ she shrieked back, on the verge of panic. ‘What for?’
‘The pilot! If we transfer his persona, I can fly us out of here!’
‘No!’ gasped Tony, stirring weakly. ‘It’ll wipe al-Rais’s persona. We can’t afford to lose it.’
‘We’ve got the recording. And keeping it in my head won’t be any use if we’re all dead. John, you’ve got to get the pilot to Bianca. It’s our only chance.’
Baxter was uncertain, but set his jaw. ‘We’ll get him. Listen up!’ he shouted to the others, issuing orders.
‘Adam,’ said Morgan through the earwig, ‘Tony’s right. If we lose al-Rais—’
‘We’ve already lost him,’ Adam said, curt. ‘Tony, what happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tony said, eyes screwed up in pain. ‘I was walking just ahead of him, and – he must have gotten free somehow, grabbed Trenton’s gun and hit me. I don’t remember anything after that.’
‘How the hell did he get free?’ growled Baxter. ‘His hands were cuffed behind his back!’
‘He had a knife,’ Adam remembered. ‘But – no, your team found it when you searched him. He knew how to break flex-cuffs, though. Najjar taught him. That doesn’t matter now, though. John, are you set?’
‘Yeah.’ Baxter brought up his rifle. ‘Okay, guys, ready – and go!’