Mission Critical
When the other two pairs of men pushed off the wall and approached the group to check their badges, the two men with the red bands on their arms pulled silenced pistols from their hiding places inside their coats.
The four security men standing right in front of them never stood a chance. The approaching group of Russians all stepped to one side of the corridor so as not to be downrange of the gunfire, and then the two Russians in back fired their suppressed weapons into the four men, dropping them dead before any of them knew they were in any danger.
The bodies were left where they fell, and the music and crowd noise from the great hall masked the muffled gunshots.
Now the Russians divided into three units, approached the three doors off the main corridor to the great hall, and waited. One of the sleepers looked at his watch and determined the time was right, and then he and his colleague entered the room, leaving the rest outside.
The mercenary leader began counting back slowly from forty-five.
* * *
• • •
In the drawing room on the third floor, Zakharov smiled and interrupted Brewer, who’d been getting nothing out of the ex-general. He said, “I would like to make a polite proposal to you, and to all security officials working in the building.”
Brewer cocked her head. “I’m listening.”
“There is no need for anyone to get hurt. Yes, our original intention involved Dr. Won’s biological weapon, but as you know, the aircraft crashed today, no doubt due to the actions of your commandos. So now we enter our plan B, with ambitions less lofty than before. We only wish to make a series of statements to the world press, and then to leave in peace.”
Brewer’s look of confusion matched her words. “We?”
* * *
• • •
Inside the great hall, the two Russians with the red bands went in separate directions, along the walls, passing servers and bartenders, all of whom were MI5 employees due to the classified nature of the conversations, and they took positions on opposite sides of the huge, dimly lit room. The men themselves were counting down, and at the ten-second mark, they reached into their coats again, this time pulling out two flash bang grenades each. The only six armed men in the room covering four hundred attendees were separated from one another, but only by twenty meters or so, standing along the wall.
The three double doors off the main corridor burst open, the two sleepers tossed their distraction devices in the direction of the six armed guards, and then they turned away.
* * *
• • •
Brewer was confused. “You and who else? What are you talking about?”
Zakharov sat in silence for a moment, then started to speak again. “I am talking about—”
The muffled sounds of explosions and the sudden chatter of gunfire seemed to come from inside the castle and somewhere below the room where Brewer stood.
Zakharov smiled. “I am talking about that. My forces have orders only to return fire to protect themselves. Whatever shooting you hear only happened because your people insisted on violence.”
Zack Hightower drew his pistol, stepped forward to the seated man, and jabbed the barrel into the side of his head. “How ’bout I pop this one right now to get the ball rolling and then go down and deal with the others?”
Brewer put a hand up to stop him; the door to the room burst open and Violator entered, his own pistol in his hand.
Brewer said, “Zakharov knows about this. It’s some sort of attack.”
“Not an attack,” Zakharov protested. “Merely a political statement, although as I said, my men will defend themselves if necessary.”
* * *
• • •
In the banquet hall it was pandemonium. In the initial attack, all six security men were killed, as well as four waiters and three conference attendees from the UK. One Russian mercenary had been shot through the knee; he was now down on the floor applying a tourniquet to his thigh. A second merc took a pistol round in his Kevlar vest, but it did not penetrate.
The Russians who survived the first quick, chaotic gun battle rushed to lock all the doors, and two of them were positioned by the open hallway that gave access to the kitchen, making sure no one came or went via this route.
A number of men and women in formal attire managed to escape through the kitchen before the mercs secured the hall, as well as through the double doors closest to the main entrance to the castle, but only about forty of the nearly four hundred were so lucky. The rest were rounded up and ordered to their seats.
Most of the kitchen staff made it out the back before Russians sealed it off, but a few stayed behind, panic-stricken. These employees were rounded up and brought back into the great hall.
The overhead lights were turned on, and all the 375 or so in the room were ordered to place their hands on the tables or to lie down on the floor. Four armed men climbed onto the stage, their automatic rifles sweeping back and forth over the crowd.
Four of the remaining Russians stepped back into the corridor and took up positions facing the main entrance of the castle.
When a platoon of armed and armored Scottish military came bursting through the front door, fragmentation grenades were hurled at them by the men guarding the corridor, killing three and sending the others back outside to assess the situation more carefully before committing to another frontal assault.
* * *
• • •
Zoya Zakharova entered the drawing room where her father was being held, followed by Chris Travers, who immediately grabbed her. Before he could pull her back out, she shouted, “What’s going on, Papa?”
General Zakharov turned to see her, and he grimaced. “Zoyushka. I truly wish you weren’t here among your friends from across the pond right now.”
Brewer motioned to Travers to let Anthem go.
Zoya turned to Brewer. “What has he said?”
“Nothing. He’s been stalling, waiting for whatever’s going on to kick off.”
The gunfire continued and seemed to grow closer. Court had moved to Zoya, ready to stop her if she made any moves towards her father. Hightower kept his gun pointed at the former GRU director, and Travers went out to cover the hall with Jason.
Zoya yelled at her father. “You think you can just shoot everyone here?”
“Heavens, no. That’s not our game at all.”
She thought a moment. “The bioweapon. You brought the bioweapon.”
“We lost that in the airplane crash this morning. Now we wish to only make a—”