indigo_angels

All three of Face’s shots must have been true, as within ninety minutes they had caught up with the abandoned lorry. BA stood watch while Face and Murdock combed through the cab and the rear, finding nothing that told them who they were dealing with, where they were headed or even if Hannibal had been inside or not.

Once they had finished with the lorry, they scoured the surrounding area, each looking for some sign that would indicate where their quarry had headed out on foot.

“Face!” Murdock’s voice rang out in the night and Face hurried over to join him as he crouched staring at the vegetation at the side of the road. It was trampled, a swathe about two meters wide running directly off the road and into the forest.

Face followed it with his eyes as far as his NV scope would allow, then he glanced back at Murdock. “Yeah, it’s them, must be about twenty of them to make this much mess.”

BA appeared at their sides, “You sure it’s them?”

Face just stared at him, “I just said so didn’t I? Can’t you smell how fresh it is?”

Murdock inhaled deeply and could detect the faint aroma of crushed grass stems, “Why do you think they’re not sticking to the road, Face?” he asked, unconcerned as to whether Face would snap or not.

“Dunno,” Face murmured, carefully dusting through the footprints at the edge of the road with his fingers, “Maybe they were worried about being spotted, not that this is a major freeway or anything. Maybe they’re just taking the most direct route to where they are going, following a GPS signal or something. Maybe they think it will be easier to hide from us in the trees.”

A cold smile settled on his lips and Murdock shuddered. If that’s what they thought then they were very, very wrong.

Suddenly Face’s hand reached out and snatched at something on the ground, Murdock and BA leaning over to see what he’d found. Face was silent, turning the object over and over in his fingers before finally holding it up for the others to see and Murdock sucked in a breath: a bracelet made from knotted green paracord, the first indication they had had that they were on the right trail.

Face’s expression was grim as he straightened up and slipped the bracelet on over his own wrist, “He’s still alive and he knows we are coming, guys. Let’s go get him.”

Murdock and BA straightened again, adjusting their packs as Face took a reading from his GPS, “Plan?” BA asked curtly.

Flicking him a quick glance, Face checked his ammo and tightened the knife holster around his thigh. “SBD, big guy, silent but deadly. We track them, catch them up, take ‘em out one by one.” He looked into his teammate’s faces, “No one hears us, no one sees us, no one is left alive. You got that?” They both nodded, not surprised; it had been obvious the way this mission was going the second Face had slit that first guy’s throat. “Okay,” Face was calm and steady; totally business-like, “I’ll take point. BA go left, Murdock, right and stay within sight.

They set off, fanning out in a triangle formation, Murdock and BA to Face’s left and right, Face following the trail of crushed vegetation. Not a sound came from any of the men. From time to time, Face paused and turned to check they were still there, but they moved like ghosts, silent but deadly; just as Face had ordered.

They had pace though, Face was moving them on all the time, pushing forward, knowing now that Hannibal was just in front of them, almost in reach, waiting for them to come and get him. Yes they needed to be silent, but they also needed to be fucking fast.

An hour later, Face suddenly froze. Murdock and BA, both of whom had been travelling with one eye on their XO also stopped. Face didn’t move and the forest lay silent all around them. BA tried his hardest to keep perfectly still but it was hard, he had stopped in an uncomfortable position, his front leg was already cramping up, he wondered what the hell Face was playing at.

Slowly, slowly, Face moved, just his arm, keeping it below the level of his shoulder but out to the side where he knew the others could see it. Two fingers pointing forwards and right, then ten, three fingers pointing forwards and left, then ten and three. BA frowned, two guys ten metres to the right, three guys thirteen metres to the left? No way. The forest was completely silent; there was no way that Face could know that.

Then there was a noise, just ahead of him an almost imperceptible creak of a branch and BA stopped breathing. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Face drew his knife out of its holster, holding it in his left hand while his Berretta nestled in his right. BA followed suit, drawing his weapon so slowly so as not to make a sound. He caught Face’s eye and the almost imperceptible shake was there, Not yet. Wait. He waited.

Slowly, three shapes loomed up and out of the bushes in front of them. They must have thought they’d heard something coming, had ducked down to see what came out of the bushes towards them but given up after all this time of seeing and hearing nothing. Almost at the same time, two more shapes appeared from near Murdock’s position and BA’s heart started hammering even harder. He watched, hardly daring to breathe as the two sets of men turned and walked out of the bushes and into the path of cleared vegetation, not three meters from where Face was crouched next to a gorse bush. They were speaking in Russian and BA could not understand a word they were saying. Not until he heard one word, Американец, American. They were hunting for them.

He glanced at Face and saw that he had pushed himself as close to the gorse bush as he could without making any noise at all, BA knew he would have his gun and his knife ready, as would Murdock, but they needed to be still. They needed to wait and see if they could get out of this undetected, even if the three of them could take these five guards out, a fact BA felt fairly confident about, the noise would alert the others, make getting Hannibal back much less of a possibility.

The Russians were sloppy though. They were obviously falsely confident that they were alone and stood, still only three meters from Face, lighting cigarettes and laughing amongst themselves. BA watched his XO uneasily. He knew Face had been setting a fast pace for a reason. Knew that if Hannibal was loaded into some other kind of transport before they had the chance to catch him up then they would probably never see him again. BA was starting to worry that the kid was going to do something crazy here, decide to take all five of them on, himself, just to make sure that they had chance to get going after the boss again. BA watched him carefully, knowing that if Face moved he would have no other choice but to follow.

Time ticked on. BA’s entire left leg was numb now, he hoped to hell he wouldn’t have to make any sudden movements as he didn’t think he’d be able to even stand. Without moving his head, he switched his eyes from Face, and tried to spot Murdock in the undergrowth over to his left, but could see nothing.

Suddenly, movement. BA’s flicked back to the Russians who were edging closer and closer to Face, still talking loudly amongst themselves. Then everybody froze again. BA gripped the handle of his handgun tightly and silently slid the safety off. One of the Russians pointed, but not at Face’s hiding place, back up behind them, they way they had come almost half an hour ago now. BA silently turned his head, wondering if they were being flanked, if someone was coming up behind them, had been following them all this time. Then he heard it, the rustling of leaves and then a soft thud, well behind them in the forest. The Russians readied their guns and took off in a spirit towards the noise, each one of them running so close to Face that they could have stroked him as they passed... BA continued to hold his breath.

Within thirty seconds the sounds of their mad dash through the trees had faded and BA looked over to see Murdock slip silently from the forest across from him and make his way over to where Face still crouched. BA joined them, cursing the pins and needles in his leg.

“You throw those stones, HM?” Face whispered, even the breath in between his words sounding far too loud in the heavy stillness of the trees.

A wide grin split Murdock’s face, “Sure did. They were getting far too close to you for my liking muchacho.”

Face nodded, eyes still fixed on the trees behind them, “Thanks, buddy,” he patted Murdock’s arm, “But they are still out there, we should double back and finish them.”

There was a beat of silence, two beats, and Face missed the glance that flashed between Murdock and BA before Murdock spoke again, his voice carefully controlled. “They’ve gone, Face. We need to push on after the boss.”

Face looked up at him and Murdock could see the indecision etched all over his features, “But what if they realise we’ve slipped past them? They come up behind us and we are in the shit boys.”

“You don’ need to kill everyone, Face,” BA grumbled, “Don’ you ever listen to the boss?”

Instantly furious, Face flashed around to stare at BA and Murdock rolled his eyes at the big guy, his hands on Face’s biceps, trying to smooth things over, “Leave it, Facey,” he whispered, “Those guys are gone. Let’s get Hannibal back.”

For a moment, the tension in the air was almost choking, but then Face seemed to sag, just for a moment before turning around, leaving the Russians behind him and focussing on the boss instead. “Okay,” Murdock could hear the stress in his voice, “We move on. But,” cold blue eyes were back on BA, “any hostiles we see ahead, even if they are out walking their Grandma’s fucking dog, we take them out. We’ve lost far too much time here as it is to spend forever creeping around them.” Silence. “Understood?”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Murdock’s voice was deliberately light but BA just scowled at him and turned back to his position.

“Let’s go,” he growled, “we need to get the boss back.”

The pace was tighter this time. Face was painfully aware how much time they had wasted as they waited for the scouting party to pass them, and he had to keep forcing away images of Hannibal being loaded into the back of another lorry, a car, a chopper, a fucking cargo plane... had to keep forcing himself to be aware of everything around him, knew he would spot any hostiles before the other two but needed to make sure he spotted them before the hostiles spotted him.

Maybe another hour passed and the sky was starting to almost imperceptibly lighten far away in the east when Face froze again. He motioned forward this time. One hostile, twenty metres. Murdock squinted into the darkness but could see absolutely nothing, could hear nothing, hell, he opened his mouth slightly, couldn’t even taste the fucker. But if Face said he was there, then he was damn well there, how his buddy did that trick Murdock would never know, but he was always right.

He watched as Face signalled them to be still and started his own silent advance. Glancing further to the right, Murdock watched BA settle down behind a bush, gun drawn in readiness, and then forwards again, where Face had now melted straight into the trees.

Straining his ears Murdock listened. He knew what Face was going to do, wondered if he would hear a strangled cry, a thump, an aborted call for help but there was nothing, nothing until the muted bird call that signalled that he should proceed once more.

Within a minute, Face loomed into sight once more, calmly wiping his knife clean on the grass and a shudder ran down Murdock’s spine. He hadn’t really known Face that long. Six months they had been together, and it hadn’t started well, Murdock knew that at first, Face hadn’t really liked him much at all. In retrospect, that business with the blow torch probably hadn’t been so wise, but Face had smelt of gas, and Murdock was only checking his theory out. Those damn pink pills he’d been on at the time probably hadn’t helped either; they’d made it so hard to concentrate on anything. How he’d not killed them all in that chopper he never really understood.

So, yeah, Face obviously hadn’t liked him much to start with, but now, Murdock smiled to himself, he and Face were buddies. Proper buddies, like Murdock hadn’t ever really had before. Face just seemed to get him, didn’t just look at him like he was a Martian or something, well, okay he had those first few weeks, but not anymore. And Murdock got Face. He knew he annoyed the shit out of BA, but that was only because BA couldn’t see through all the crap that Face was hiding behind. Murdock on the other hand, had always been good at seeing stuff that wasn’t there, and so he had understood Face from day one. Knew he was sharp as a dagger and insecure as all hell. Knew he was in love with the boss and the boss obviously loved him back. Knew he was just that little bit off centre, too much of an adrenalin junkie to be entirely normal, knew he loved the rush of the job. But he also knew, and this was the thing here, he knew damn well that Face hated the killing.

Murdock frowned as Face sheathed his knife. So, if Face hated the killing so much, just who was this guy, calmly steeping over about the tenth corpse he’d made just tonight? He shook his head. He wasn’t sure about the answer to that question, but he sure as hell knew that he hoped this new guy wouldn’t hang around too long.

They pushed on, the trees around them thinning, forcing them to slow down, be more cautious. It wasn’t long before Face motioned them over to him, his eyes fixed on something up ahead of them. Murdock and BA arrived at Face’s side at the same time. “We are right behind them,” his voice was more like a breath, “We need to fan out, pick them off one by one. It won’t be dark for long, we need to move fast. Any questions?”

BA and Murdock shook their heads, but Murdock knew that BA’s dark expression was probably very similar to his own.

There were seventeen guards and it took little over half an hour to whittle that number down to eight. They targeted the guys on the perimeter, sneaking in, silently dropping their mark and retreating before they were seen. Murdock tried not to think too much about what he was doing, he knew that he would talk to the boss about this later and Hannibal would convince him that he had done the right thing, but just for now he would have to suffer the unease he felt about taking a life. He hated the killing; just like Face.

Face. Murdock looked up as Face slowly appeared from the branches of a tree. Soundlessly lowering himself down by his arms, right behind his latest target. Murdock watched as his best friend suddenly lifted his legs and, almost too fast to see, had them wrapped around his target’s throat as he dropped them both to the ground. He knew that Face had broken the guy’s neck as they fell, it wasn’t really that that had bothered him, it was the grim, satisfied expression that Face was wearing that renewed those chills.

Their luck had to run out at some point, however. As much as the Russians were spread out through the trees making picking them off almost too easy, there was always going to come to the point when they noticed their force had been cut in half. There was nothing wrong with the way that Face had taken that last guy out, it was just bad luck that one of the others happened to turn around at the point that Face had dropped from the trees.

Murdock hadn’t even seen the other guy, fortunately BA did, but as he was just not quick enough to stop the warning shout before he dropped the guy. Everything stopped; then it started up at top speed as machine gun fire raked around them, shouting in Russian from every direction, people running, utter pandemonium.

Face swore under his breath and held his position, trying to work out what the fuck was going on and still trying to get some kind of a visual on the boss. He listened intently to the shouting as he heard Murdock and BA starting to return fire. His Russian wasn’t perfect, but it was damn good, and then he heard it, exactly the information he had been waiting for, revealed by people who were too arrogant to think that maybe someone else spoke their language.

“Найдите их. Убейте их. Я съеду с целью.” ‘Find them. Kill them. I will move out with the target.’

Face was after that voice in a second. There was no way on earth he was going to let Hannibal get away from him here, not after he had done so much, so much that he knew would come back to haunt him in the future, just to get to this point. He had no time to get to the others, tell them what he was doing; he just hoped they would work it out for themselves. Hannibal would. He and Hannibal had this way of just knowing all the time what the other was going to do. Face had never met another person in his entire life that knew him like Hannibal did. To even contemplate a life without that... No. That was never going to happen.

He scrambled through the undergrowth, the need to be quiet warring with the need to be fast, and then up ahead in the early morning gloom, he saw them. It was definitely Hannibal, and Face was relieved beyond all words to see that the boss was up on his feet, moving easily, didn’t look damaged at all. His hands were shackled though, they appeared to be attached together to a collar around his neck, and as Face steadily closed the distance between them he burned with the desire to destroy anyone who would ever dare try to humiliate John Smith in such a way.

The trees were thinning all the while, and as Hannibal’s captor, a thin, balding man, almost as tall as Hannibal himself, dragged his prisoner out into the open Face knew his chance was coming. He doubled his pace, risking being heard just so he could get close enough for a shot. One shot was all he needed, it would be quicker with his hand gun and for that he needed to be closer. One bullet in the back of the head, and Hannibal would be free.

Face skirted slightly to the left. Seeing that Baldy was holding Hannibal on his right, gun in his left hand jammed up under the boss’ chin, Face knew that it would be easier to stay out of sight to the left. This was it, his big chance. If he played the game just right from here on in, then he would have Hannibal back within minutes. If he screwed up, however, and that guy pulled the trigger on his damn gun... Well, Face wasn’t going to think about that just now.

He was almost close enough, almost, almost and then Baldy turned, swinging Hannibal around with him, his own damn gun still rammed into the boss’ neck, but Face kept going. His heart was hammering up in his chest but he kept walking, gun held up in both hands, sure and steady, knowing that this Baldy guy didn’t really want to shoot Hannibal, had kidnapped him for a reason, was only going to use his gun as a last resort. Knowing that Face continuing to walk in on him would be creeping him out, taking all his control out of the situation. With a bit of luck, he would even take his gun off the boss and point it Face’s way, he knew if that happened then Hannibal would have the little shit on his back before he could do anything and then Face would shoot his fucking brains out.

“Stop!” the voice was heavily accented but Face kept on prowling, closer and closer, refusing to look at Hannibal knowing he needed every single ounce of concentration to pull this off. “Stop, damn you!” Baldy yelled again; panic edging his tone, “You are here to save your leader? I will shoot if you step even one pace closer!”

“No, you won’t,” Face wasn’t shouting, didn’t need to and knew he sounded more dangerous when he didn’t, “Your boss wants him alive and anyway, you know that if you kill him, then I’ll kill you.” That wasn’t a risk that Face was prepared to take, but there was no way Baldy was going to know that. “The US government doesn’t want the colonel there in anyone’s hands but ours, he knows far too much. He stays with us, dead or alive, that’s the message I got.”

Face’s bluff seemed to work as Baldy backed up a step, dragging Hannibal across the rough stony ground, eyeing Face unsteadily, “That might be the case,” he answered unsteadily, “But my employer is not a man to be disappointed, I will die rather than return empty handed!”

Face stopped, narrowing his eyes as he clocked the change of expression on Baldy’s face. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure that the guy wouldn’t follow through on his threat after all, the desperation on his face was clear to see, and desperation was a very dangerous emotion. He checked his distance, glanced at Baldy’s gun, sticking so hard into Hannibal’s neck it was drawing blood and wondered if he could get this shot off, nail the bastard between the eyes before he could pull the trigger... Realised with a sinking heart, that no, he couldn’t.

He kept his expression carefully empty though and kept his gun up as he tried to come up with another bluff, “You know we’ve killed all your men?” his voice was so cold it almost made him shudder, “Can’t see your boss being too pleased about that, even if you do manage to hang onto the colonel there. Three US soldiers, wiping out your entire force...”

Baldy just laughed, it was a thin, nervous sound but one that Face knew he meant, “Hired help, that’s all. Untrained thugs every one of them, and we still managed to steal your leader right out from underneath your noses last night!”

Face bristled at the insult and followed Baldy as he took another step backwards, up the shallow embankment of the railway tracks behind him.

“Listen, bud,” Face growled, getting sick of this verbal sparring, “There’s only one way you are walking away from tonight and that’s by letting go of the colonel and dropping that gun. Otherwise whether we lose that US property or not, the crows will be picking over your dead body by sun up. So wise up and drop your weapon before I drop you.”

Bull’s-eye. Face could see that his threat had hit home. Bastard didn’t need to know that Face had no intention of letting him walk anywhere tonight, whether Hannibal was freed or not, either way, he was a dead man. But then, in the distance, the whistle of a train sounded and somehow Face just knew that that changed everything.

In a couple of seconds Baldy had hauled Hannibal up onto the tracks and was standing staring down at Face with a wild expression on his features. “Okay soldier,” he breathed through a shaky smile, “You either drop your weapon here or I turn the colonel into chopped meat. I’m sure your leaders wouldn’t want that. They’d at least like a body to prove you have done your job properly.”

For a split second Face knew that the terror was clear in his expression before he managed to wipe it clean, but it was too late, he knew Baldy had seen it, knew that he had the upper hand now. Baldy smiled, his thin lips stretching over his grey face. “Put the gun down, soldier,” he ordered, “and I might just let you live.”

Before Face had chance to answer, Hannibal’s voice broke the silence. “Is this it then Lieutenant?”

Face startled, his eyes flicking to the boss as the acidic tone of his words bit into him.

“This the sum of your grand escape plans for me?”

Both Face and Baldy were stunned into silence. Face could barely take in Hannibal’s pale but thankfully unmarred features as his cold words slammed home in his brain. “Fuck, Lieutenant, my sister’s gerbil could plan something better than this! You always were a fucking waste of space!”

Nobody moved, no one even seemed to breathe. Face was aware of movement behind him, but he didn’t turn and by the way his head was still attached to his shoulders, guessed it must be Murdock and BA. Hannibal’s words drove a spike through his heart, that’s what the boss thought of him? A waste of space... Useless. A failure. He felt the ice running through his veins, making its way up and into his arms, spreading down reaching for his fingers. It was going to make him drop the gun...

Then he looked up into the boss’ eyes for the first time and it was like a burst of fire shot between them, instantly vaporising the ice, banishing it to another dimension. Of course. The boss was playing. Of course he was. Face wasn’t quite sure how this game was supposed to work out, but he could do this, he and the boss had run many, many scams together over the years. Of course the boss didn’t think he was useless. They were a team, the best, and this game wasn’t lost yet.

He fixed a very pissed off expression onto his face, “With all due respect, sir,” he muttered, “If you hadn’t been so monumentally stupid as to get yourself caught last night then we wouldn’t be in this fucking position now!”

He heard a muted gasp behind him which he knew came from BA. Of course the big guy would have no idea about what was going on just now, but that was fine, that would play into Face’s hands as long as he kept his reactions for show and didn’t try to get involved.

“You insubordinate wretch!” Hannibal yelled, inching forward and slightly away from that gun barrel and suddenly Face understood the game. Confuse the living hell out of Baldy, give him a show to watch, make sure he is so distracted he doesn’t notice that the gun is no longer in Hannibal’s neck and then Face can shoot his head off. The shot was already lined up, Face didn’t even have to re-aim, knew if he pulled that trigger the bastard was dead. Just needed to boss to move a little bit more...

“Somebody sold me out!” Hannibal yelled, “It was you wasn’t it? Sneaky little bastard, think you’d move quicker up the ladder without me around? This is fifteen years ago, all over again!”

Baldy frowned, his eyes flicking between Face and Hannibal in confusion. “Guess again, Grandad!” Face spat, “It wasn’t me! But if I ever get the chance to meet the guy who did sell you out, I’d love to shake his hand!”

Everything happened in a split second. Hannibal lunged forward, looking for all the world as if he was going to rip Face’s throat out, Baldy, utterly confused by the dialogue between the two men let him slip away from the gun. Face’s finger squeezed on the trigger just as he was wiped out from behind, BA’s solid bulk crashing into him, knocking his aim, firing the bullet close enough to Baldy’s head that he felt it whistle past his ear, waking him up to the fact that he was being played. Murdock hauled BA away from Face just as the corporal raised his fist to lay his XO out and yelled out in warning as a huge goods train suddenly appeared from between the trees, steaming down the tracks towards them, whistling frantically as the driver spotted the commotion on the tracks.

In two steps Baldy was back where he had been, right in the middle of the tracks, gun jammed into Hannibal’s neck, wild eyes flicking between the three American soldiers in front of him and the rapidly approaching train.

“Move back!” he yelled, utter panic in his voice.

Face was frozen. On his knees in the mud unable to process what had just happened, how close he’d been to pulling this whole thing off, and now...

“Move back!!!” Baldy screamed again, the train not fifty metres away now, its whistle sounding almost continuously, “If you don’t move I’ll stand right here! Let this train crush him!”

Face knew the guy was speaking directly to him, had already felt Murdock and BA back off, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even think straight. All he could do was stare into Hannibal’s blue eyes as they fixed him across the five metres that separated them. The boss looked scared; he’d obviously run out of ideas. Face couldn’t get his own damn brain to work either, all he wanted to do was tackle that bastard, take him down with his bare hands, but he was frozen in the mud, knowing that as soon as he took one step towards Hannibal, the boss would end up with a bullet through his neck.

The train was thirty metres away.

“Facey,” there was a voice in his ear, hands on his shoulders then his elbows, standing him up, pulling him backwards, “Come on buddy, we can still do this, don't give up, let’s just do what the man says.”

Face let himself be dragged back, aware, vaguely that this might be the only thing that saved Hannibal’s life. His eyes didn’t leave the boss’ face the whole time though. Not when Murdock yelled, “Okay you fucker, we’ve moved back, now you move!” Not when Baldy glanced up at the rapidly approaching train one last time. Not when he grabbed Hannibal tightly by the collar around his neck and leapt backwards, dragging them both off the tracks as the train moved right into their sphere, and because he was staring the whole time, he saw Hannibal’s mouth move, saw the whispered, “I love you,” as the goods train thundered in separating them completely.

Hannibal disappearing from sight shocked Face back into action, he dived forward, Murdock’s reaching fingers just brushing the back of his pack as he threw himself, face down, on the ground at the edge of the track, sharp stones digging into his cheek as he looked under the train, eyes desperately searching for some sign of the boss.

Between the flashing wheels, he saw a movement to his left and his gut clenched as he spotted a now unconscious Hannibal being hauled into the back of an old Red Army jeep partially concealed in bushes on the far side of the tracks. As he stared, horror struck, the engine roared into life and, spitting mud everywhere, the jeep spun out of its hiding place and turned onto a mud track heading away from them. Face scrambled for his gun, hoping against hope to be able to take out a tyre or even the petrol tank again from his position on the ground.

In seconds he was ready, gun held steady in his arms, eye at the scope, heart pounding in his chest and he pulled the trigger. He heard the sharp pop of the gun firing, followed milliseconds later by a high pitched metallic ping and then a searing blinding heat erupted across his temple and then everything went black.

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