Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
PYRAMIDEN
It was January, and the archipelago was experiencing its Polar Nights. The sun was always six degrees below the horizon, and the only light came from the moon, stars, buildings, and of course, the famous greenish-hue in the sky—the Northern Lights.
It was dark, but Wyatt could make out the outlines of the towering rocks in the distance. The dramatic icy peaks looked surprisingly similar to pyramids, giving the town its name.
Overhead, the mystical green lights flickered and danced. A shooting star raced horizontally, and the green glow waved, seeming to intensify before his eyes.
It was an amazing sight, but after a four-hour ride on the snowmobile, his legs were stiff—the effects of his near age of forty creeping up on him, not that he’d ever admit it to the guys.
Wyatt adjusted his headlamp so he could better see through his Klim Viper snow goggles as the guys forged a path through the snow to get to the main part of town, which was half a klick away.
They were decked out from head-to-toe in Arctic gear to keep them as warm as possible in the subzero temperatures, but it was still bitterly cold out.
They’d re-zeroed their weapons in preparation for shooting in the cold, as well as lubricated their rifles. A shot could easily go wrong with the denser air creating an increased drag on the projectiles. Not to mention how shit could go south with optics.
The team had gone over possible infil options on the plane ride to Longyearbyen and had come up with a half-dozen contingency plans, too.
Wyatt slowed once they reached the red, white, and blue town sign just outside the entrance. The lights appeared to be on in the old government headquarters building. “Stick to the plan. Clear the surrounding structures and wait for my go-ahead to insert,” Wyatt ordered in a low voice.
Echo Four would be on overwatch even though it was normally Wyatt handling the long gun. They had no idea how many enemy combatants they’d be going up against, so Wyatt preferred to have his boots on the ground with his men.
The team scattered to their assigned breach points and made their way into the town within a matter of minutes.
Wyatt turned on his comm. “Radio check, Four. Are you in position?”
“This is Four,” Roman responded. “I’m in location across from the government HQ building. There’s definitely activity inside.”
“Roger that,” Wyatt answered.
The entire town appeared frozen in time. A mini Soviet Union. The Russians probably had other reasons for choosing such a location aside from mining coal, most likely to maintain a foothold in the west.
Either way, it was as if the Iron Curtain had never lifted even after the fall of communism in Russia. As to why the Russians still wanted to maintain sovereignty over the land, well, their resident conspiracy theorist, A.J., had churned up a dozen reasons on their flight from New York.
Wyatt exited the first site he’d checked, the gymnasium.
No signs of life. Only withering plants.
He dimmed his headlamp, hoping the lens didn’t fog up and crack, then in a low voice said, “This is One. The gym is clear. What’s your location, Two?”
“This is Two,” A.J. came over the line. “I’m in the children’s nursery, and I feel like I’m in a horror movie. Empty cribs. Little shoes lined up along the wall. Fucking creepy. It’s like everyone just abandoned the place.”
“People left their stuff everywhere,” Chris chimed in. “Found someone’s stash of Playboys, too.”
“How the hell did you manage that when we’re only checking for a hostage and our targets?” A.J. asked.
“I opened a closet door, and I swear the magazines just fell on my head,” he answered.
“Fell right open to the centerfold piece, too, right?” A crackle from A.J.’s laugh cut through the comms.
“This is Four,” Roman popped into Wyatt’s ear. “Just got a call from TOC on the SAT phone.”
“What’d she say?” Wyatt went still, waiting for Roman to continue. Harper wouldn’t have risked calling unless it was serious.
“She said someone must’ve tipped off the Russians. The Norwegians said they flew into Longyearbyen before us,” Roman added. “And I’ve got a positive visual on three FSB agents exiting the HQ building now. Heavily armed.”
“Charlie Mike, Boss Man? Or we getting out of here?” A.J. asked.
Damn it. “We need to exfil. Now.” He dimmed his headlamp to the lowest setting. “We are not going to war with the Russians. The FSB work directly for the Russian president. Do not engage. Understand?”
“Roger that,” Roman responded.
“Shit,” Chris barked out. “You hear that? Helo somewhere overhead.”
“The heliport is close by. You have a visual, Four?” Wyatt exited the building he’d been in to put eyes on the sky. It was too dark from his vantage point, but he could hear the familiar sound of blades.
“Fuck,” Roman rushed out. “They’ve got an RPG. The FSB agents are about to shoot down the chopper. They must assume the kidnappers are trying to make a run for it.”
“So, they’re just gonna kill them?” Chris asked in surprise. “And are we going to let that happen? What if the American is on that bird?”
“Don’t make a move, Four,” Wyatt ordered, even though it pained him to do it. They did not have orders to fire at Russian agents. “Hold your position. We can’t get into this fight.”
“We can’t let that helo go down,” A.J. hissed.
“Stand down, Two.” Wyatt bit down on his back teeth. “Rules of engagement are clear. We do not engage with the Russians under any circumstances.”
A whistling sound tore through the air, then a moment later, the helicopter exploded. A burst of red and orange sprayed the sky before gravity pulled the chopper to the snowy ground.
“This is Three. We need to get to that bird before the FSB agents do and confirm who was on board,” Chris rushed out. “I can head there now.”
“No, it’s too—”
“I can do it!” Chris cut off Wyatt. “Someone might still be alive.”
“You’ve got company, One,” Roman informed Wyatt.
At the sound of boots crunching across the snow, Wyatt hurried back into the building, shut off his headlamp, and hid in the shadows of the gymnasium. “Go, Three. Do not engage with anyone, not even a fucking bear. Got it?”
“Roger,” Echo Three said in a rush, his breathing already labored as if he’d started on the move before he’d been given orders, and if they weren’t in a hurry, he would’ve given him hell for it.
“The rest of you, don’t move a damn muscle until the Russians are out of sight,” Wyatt said after the sound of boots in the snow faded.
“The men outside the HQ building are exiting the town, probably heading for the crash site. As for if there are more here, I don’t know,” Roman updated the team.
“Hold your positions until we have the clear from Four to move,” Wyatt instructed, fear fast-tracking up his back as he worried about Chris outside.
“This is Three,” Chris’s voice popped over the line two minutes later. “I have visual confirmation of the American. He was in a body bag, already dead. Tortured, and he bled out from the looks of it.”
“Maybe the Russians knew that.” At least Wyatt hoped they wouldn’t have risked the life of the American. “Who else was on board? Any survivors?”
“They’re all dead,” Chris answered. “I’m snagging photos of the men so we can run them through facial recog when we get back.”
“Better hurry. The Russians are coming in hot on your location,” Roman rasped.
“Don’t be a heroic son of a bitch,” Wyatt shot out. “Get to our exfil point, Three,” Wyatt commanded.
“Two other FSB agents just left the side entrance toward the helo crash,” Roman announced.
“Now’s the time to exfil,” Wyatt responded. “Move out.”
“Roger that,” A.J. answered, followed by Finn and Roman.
“Three?” Wyatt called out once all of his team, except for Chris, were back where they’d left their Ski-Doos. “Come in, Three.”
“Three, where the hell are you?” A.J. asked next.
Static filled the line for a moment. “I’ve got a situation,” Chris said. “My path to you is a bit blocked.”
“By what?” Wyatt asked.
“Eh, you know, a giant fucking polar bear.” The line went quiet for a moment. “If I fire, or throw a 9-Bang, the Russians will hear me.”
“Do whatever necessary to keep yourself from getting eaten,” Wyatt told him. “A suppressed shot will be fine.”
A suppressed shot would still be heard, but it’d be more like a loud clap. A firm spank in the arse. Hopefully, the sound would be chalked up to something other than a gunshot, and the Russians wouldn’t pursue.
“Just shoot the bear. Drop your animal-loving bullshit for tonight,” A.J. urged.
“I can’t risk exposing you guys,” Chris answered in a steady voice.
“Don’t even think about sacrificing yourself,” Wyatt ordered. “Get yourself here and alive, right the bloody hell now!”
The line went dead.
“Three, come in?” Wyatt saddled onto his Ski-Doo when he heard a thunderous noise in the distance and saw a flash of light. Chris had thrown the flash-bang grenade to scare off the bear instead of shooting the thing.
“We’re coming for you,” A.J. said. “We didn’t spend half our lives dodging bullets to have one of our guys taken out by a damn bear.”