Vengeance (18 page)

“Is it not your job to catch spies before they can do us damage?” Nokz’z asked, and regretted the words immediately.

Goezlin turned to face him, turning his head to the left and right like a bird eyeing up a morsel. His pupils were jet black and coldly knowing.

“It is indeed my job and I caught him,” Goezlin said. “But it was your job to keep spies out and it is a job you have not done well. Now, again, thanks to you, he is on the loose. I want him alive. If he is killed, the consequences for you will not be pleasant.”

The sound of gunshots came from the far end of the building.

“We just ran out of time!” Wall shouted over the gunfire, echoing from the hard concrete surfaces of the garage. The walls around them spat stone chips and puffs of grey dust.

The Angels returned fire, the gunfire from both sides combining into a deafening orchestra of percussion.

“That’s it, Price.” Chisnall had to shout to be heard above the thunder. “The mission is blown. We have to try to get out of here.”

“Okay. Everybody get ready to move,” Price said. “Monster, you grab The Tsar. Barnard, when Wall destroys the main entrance, blow us a back door at the same time, so they don’t hear two explosions. We’ll hide out until the raid.”

“What raid?” Chisnall asked. He didn’t get an answer.

“Hide where?” Wall asked, emptying almost a full clip at the entrance. He ducked down as the car that was protecting him shuddered under heavy fire. He held up the detonator control and flipped off the safety switch.

“There’s a tunnel system,” Price said. “Links up a few of the old buildings. We can get to the former American Embassy building, outside the cordoned off area. We don’t think the Pukes know about the tunnels. This was supposed to be our escape route after the mission.”

“What is embassy used for now?” Monster asked.

“Communications,” Barnard said. “Central communications centre for the Bzadian military.”

“Just pen-pushers and PowerPoint rangers,” Price said. “We should be able to deal with them.”

“Before we go anywhere, what’s this about a raid?” Chisnall asked again. “Bilal didn’t say anything about a raid.”

“He wouldn’t have. It’s ‘need to know’. But you don’t think they sent us in here without a return ticket?” Price said. “We got some new jets, real fast. They’re going to hit Canberra at midday. We escape in the confusion.”

“How is that your return ticket?” Chisnall asked.

“In the aftermath of the raid there will be a lot of medivac rotorcraft flying around,” Price said. “One of them will be ours, and we’ll be on it.”

“Like at Uluru,” Chisnall said.

“Exactly,” Price said.

“What about me?” Brogan asked.

“My orders were to bring you here,” Price said. “They didn’t include taking you home. But I guess that’s a possibility.”

“They haven’t given you much time,” Chisnall said.

“We’ve got till noon,” Price said. “We were supposed to deliver Brogan to you at 0900. That gave us three hours to get clear. We’re a little behind schedule.”

“Just a little,” Barnard said.

“Ready to rock and roll,” Wall said, punching a code into his detonator. “On my count, Barnard. Blowing the entrance in three …”

“Everybody get on the ground, take cover,” Price called.

“Wait!” Chisnall said.

“Got no time to wait,” Price said.

“Two,” Wall said.

“Let me think,” Chisnall said.

“Got no time to think,” Price said.

“No, you don’t understand,” Chisnall said. “The Pukes are a whisker away from blowing us all to hell.”

“Wall, wait,” Price ordered.

“Nukes?” Monster asked.

“I don’t have time to explain it now,” Chisnall said. “But they’re real close to the edge. An attack on Canberra would nudge them over.”

“Then ACOG will retaliate,” Price said.

“If they can,” Chisnall said. “But any which way the free territories go boom-boom, bye-bye.”

“Grenade!” Brogan shouted. “Everybody down!”

Chisnall hit the floor, lying in a black pool of old oil as a sharp crack lit up the darkness around them.

“Wall, frags!” Brogan called. She stood, taking cover behind a pillar. Wall took a pair of grenades from his belt and tossed them to her.

“Frag out!” Brogan shouted. She pulled the pins and hurled them, one after the other, at the entrance. The firing from that direction stopped as the roar of the grenades echoed through the parking garage.

“Can you stop the raid?” Chisnall asked.

“We could try,” Price said, “but I doubt they’d listen. The ACOG bigwigs think this will end the war.”

“End the war, or end the world?” Chisnall asked. “They don’t know about the positronium bombs.”

“The what?” Barnard asked.

Chisnall did not reply. He was silent, thinking.

“They’re pulling back,” Wall said.

“Boo-yah,” Monster shouted.

“It ain’t a good thing,” Brogan said. “They’ll be back.”

“Gotta move, Ryan,” Price said. “Whatever you think, we’re going to get slaughtered if we stay here.”

“Okay. I have an idea,” Chisnall said. “It’s pretty wild and we’re going to have to have real big cojones to pull it off.”

“Big cojones we got,” Price said. “But they’re no use to us if we’re dead.”

“We gotta go!” Wall shouted.

More gunfire now, a rolling wave of it as Bzadian soldiers advanced into the underground garage. Price tossed Chisnall a side-arm and he took position behind a pillar, firing quick shots at dark figures silhouetted in the light from the entrance.

The walls seemed alive with bullets and ricochets. Concrete spat and shattered, more lights went out in a shatter of glass.

Amid it all a quiet voice came from behind them.

“Is this a private party or am I invited?”

“Tsar!” Barnard was the first to react.

Chisnall looked around at the truck to see The Tsar lying just inside the doorway.

“Hey, Ryan,” The Tsar said.

“Good to see you, Tsar,” Chisnall said.

“So you want to get out of here?” The Tsar asked.

“Just a bit,” Price said.

“And if I don’t get to a hospital soon, I’m gonna be toast, right?” The Tsar said.

“Tsar, you’re gonna be fine,” Price said.

“One day I’ll teach you how to lie convincingly,” The Tsar said.

“Tsar …” Barnard began.

“Frankly, I don’t want to die, not yet,” he said. “But the only way I’m going to get to a hospital is if the Pukes capture me. So let them.”

“What are you talking about?” Barnard asked.

“I can’t walk,” The Tsar said. “But I can still drive.”

[0940 HOURS LOCAL TIME]

[BZADIAN CONGRESS, CANBERRA]

“I told you I wanted them all alive,” Goezlin said.

“Pull the soldiers back,” Nokz’z said to Dequorz. “Get me Captain Jazki of the Nzgali.”

The Republican Guards were regarded as the elite of the Bzadian army, tasked with defending cities and major installations. But the Nzgali were the elite of the Republican Guard. The Nzgali were specialists: troubleshooters, sharpshooters. The team that was called in when things went wrong. Their equipment, skills, dedication and training were legendary. Their uniforms: jet black.

Ten minutes later, Nokz’z watched the large screens that lined the wall of the mobile command centre as two Nzgali assault teams converged on the entrance of the parking garage in armoured cars. The images were coming from the surveillance rotorcraft, hovering overhead.

The Angels would not stand a chance.

The armoured cars manoeuvred around a battle tank that Nokz’z had ordered into position on the road directly outside the garage, in case the infiltrators tried to make a run for it.

“Alive,” Goezlin said, unnecessarily, Nokz’z thought. He had already made his point a number of times.

The armoured cars accelerated into the driveway, one on each side, the entry and the exit lanes.

The rear lights of the vehicles had just disappeared when there was the sharp crack of an explosion, followed by another. A swirl of dust and smoke filled the entrance. Through it, with the roar of a powerful engine, came the large yellow nose of a fire truck.

“They were waiting for you,” Goezlin said.

The fire truck bounced up the sloping driveway, swerving around the battle tank, and hurtled off down the road towards the security perimeter.

The gun turret of the tank swivelled after them as the fire truck gained speed.

“Do not fire,” Nokz’z shouted. “We will stop them at the gates.”

The road ahead was well blocked by heavy concrete crash barriers.

The two armoured cars reappeared at the garage entrance, bursting out of the dark underground cavern after the fire truck. They were both just metres from the entrance when the garage exploded.

A great ball of fire and smoke snorted out of the twin openings, like the nostrils of a dragon. The force of it lifted the armoured cars by the back axles, flipping them over on their sides. Even the mighty battle tank rocked on its suspension.

“I want that truck stopped, and the occupants captured alive!” Nokz’z roared, aware that he was losing his calm, but unable to help himself. Too much was riding on this.

The fire truck turned along the inner road, avoiding the perimeter with its concrete and wire defences. It raced around a corner, veering across the lawns, dry and hard from a lack of rain, over onto the forecourt of the building.

Now Nokz’z realised what they were doing. Leaving the roads, sticking to the grassy fields, racing down the grassy mall that led to Old Parliament House, now a Bzadian museum. There were fences erected across those lawns, but only light ones, no crash barriers. No tanks.

“They’re making for the museum,” he said, his voice under better control. “Bring up tanks and cut them off at the museum entrance.”

They tried. They failed. They were simply too slow.

The fire truck hit the fence at speed, splitting it in two, hurling broken bits of wire and metal into the air.

It reached the museum road well before any tanks were close, racing around it, through it, screaming back onto the main road that led across the lake.

There was an explosion just to the left of the truck, rocking it. It went up onto two wheels but it somehow regained its balance and settled.

“Who fired that?” Goezlin shouted.

“Find out,” Nokz’z ordered.

They watched through the eyes of the rotorcraft overhead as the yellow vehicle bounced over a curb and crossed an intersection on the wrong side of the road to avoid a hastily erected roadblock. It stayed on that side, narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic.

More explosions now, left and right of the fire truck, showering it with debris as it hurtled into the built-up streets of the city.

“The rockets are coming from one of our gunships, sir,” Dequorz said.

“Tell them to stop,” Nokz’z said.

“The Angels must know we are tracking them,” Goezlin said. “What kind of game are they playing? What do they hope to achieve?”

The answer to that question became clear as the fire truck spun around corners on the north side of the lake, edging closer to a large complex to the east of the circular park that marked the very heart of the city.

On the screen Nokz’z could see the lights of security cars converging on the truck and on the mall. They blocked the street.

With no other option, the truck hurtled around into a wide driveway to the mall.

The truck disappeared into the car park entrance.

“Seal off the building. Seal off the area!” Nokz’z said. “I am on my way.”

“Stay frosty, check your corners,” Price called as the team moved down a featureless corridor, somewhere in the depths of the Congress building. They had blown a hole in the back wall simultaneously with the explosion that had destroyed the main entrance. The maintenance corridor had taken them deep into the building. The Tsar had bought them some time, escaping alone in the fire truck, but as soon as the Bzadians caught him they would realise the trick.

“Clear,” Barnard said, on point, risking a quick glance into a side corridor ahead of them. She checked it again, then motioned the team forwards with a hand signal.