Read Online America's Trust by Murray McDonald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Murray McDonald
Tags: thriller
Ads: Link
his disposal was loaded into the two MI-17 helicopters. Fully armed, the sixty elite soldiers were the best the Russian military had to offer and a formidable force. In exercises, the SOS joked that only when Alpha had a three-to-one advantage was it even close to being a fair fight.
“Thirty seconds!” announced the pilot.
Pyotr gave his men the signal, his helicopter would go in first, the second would await the order should backup be required.
The helicopter jumped into the air before slamming back down. The pilot had just gone up and over the trees in one swift motion. Even before the helicopter’s wheels had touched down, the doors were open and the troops flooded out. When the last man’s boot left the chopper, it spiraled up and away. Pyotr’s men had already fanned out and secured the area. So far so good , he thought. The building showed no signs of any damage, no firefight, although it was eerily quiet.
“Chopper two stay in position, over,” he radioed to his backup chopper.
The line remained quiet. No response.
Pyotr tried again. Nothing.
Pyotr signaled for his number two to make the call. There was no response. Both shrugged. There was nothing else they could do. Their mission was to ascertain the whereabouts and/or condition of the Russian leaders.
The next step was to infiltrate the seemingly empty building. As they neared the front door, he began to feel uneasy.
***
Dmitry Simonov, the defense minister watched as the picture on the screen jumped upwards and then fell back to the ground. The view from the SOS team member’s helmet camera made the small group watching from the Intelligence Room feel queasy as they experienced every bump and movement in real time. The view of the unblemished castle, thirty miles to their west, offered a momentary cheer of hope. Visions of a war-torn castle had been their worst fear. As the camera’s guide exited the helicopter, the screen went blank. The feed ceased.
“What’s wrong?” asked Dmitry, turning to the technical team.
“We have no idea, sir,” replied the operator after a few tweaks to ensure everything was in order.
“Get me Captain Bulinov,” he barked. His nerves had held well but the pressure was mounting.
After a few minutes of scrabbling around and a number of ‘Captain Bulinov, come in’ calls, the operator again shook his head in despair.
“Try the other chopper!” The Defense Minister’s voice trembled slightly.
“Chopper Two, come in.”
“Chopper Two,” came the prompt reply.
“What the hell is happening?” asked Dmitry angrily, not entertaining any pleasantries.
“We are holding out of sight and awaiting orders,” announced the pilot of the second chopper, somewhat bewildered by the defense minister’s tone.
“You’re holding out of sight and we’ve just lost all contact with the rest of your team!” he screamed into the radio.
As the second team’s communications appeared intact, a second helmet camera was activated and the screen jumped to life once more. The inside of the MI-17 showed thirty troops preparing to enter the action. Another massive bump on the screen pre-empted the door opening and the troops rushing out of the metal tube. Once again, as the helmet camera moved out into open ground, the feed died.
“What the fuck?!” screamed Dmitry, throwing his coffee cup against the wall, just inches from the screen. The cup exploded into a million pieces. The screen stayed blank and the speakers remained silent.
***
Pyotr raised his hand and his men froze. The main door lay slightly ajar. There was no sign of any guards, nor for that matter, any fighting or disturbance. He raised three fingers and motioned forward. The front three troopers rushed ahead, securing the door and the hallway beyond.
He motioned to his troops, and said, “go, go, go,” into his throat mic. With no response, he had no option but to send a trooper scurrying around the building in an attempt to coordinate the
“Thirty seconds!” announced the pilot.
Pyotr gave his men the signal, his helicopter would go in first, the second would await the order should backup be required.
The helicopter jumped into the air before slamming back down. The pilot had just gone up and over the trees in one swift motion. Even before the helicopter’s wheels had touched down, the doors were open and the troops flooded out. When the last man’s boot left the chopper, it spiraled up and away. Pyotr’s men had already fanned out and secured the area. So far so good , he thought. The building showed no signs of any damage, no firefight, although it was eerily quiet.
“Chopper two stay in position, over,” he radioed to his backup chopper.
The line remained quiet. No response.
Pyotr tried again. Nothing.
Pyotr signaled for his number two to make the call. There was no response. Both shrugged. There was nothing else they could do. Their mission was to ascertain the whereabouts and/or condition of the Russian leaders.
The next step was to infiltrate the seemingly empty building. As they neared the front door, he began to feel uneasy.
***
Dmitry Simonov, the defense minister watched as the picture on the screen jumped upwards and then fell back to the ground. The view from the SOS team member’s helmet camera made the small group watching from the Intelligence Room feel queasy as they experienced every bump and movement in real time. The view of the unblemished castle, thirty miles to their west, offered a momentary cheer of hope. Visions of a war-torn castle had been their worst fear. As the camera’s guide exited the helicopter, the screen went blank. The feed ceased.
“What’s wrong?” asked Dmitry, turning to the technical team.
“We have no idea, sir,” replied the operator after a few tweaks to ensure everything was in order.
“Get me Captain Bulinov,” he barked. His nerves had held well but the pressure was mounting.
After a few minutes of scrabbling around and a number of ‘Captain Bulinov, come in’ calls, the operator again shook his head in despair.
“Try the other chopper!” The Defense Minister’s voice trembled slightly.
“Chopper Two, come in.”
“Chopper Two,” came the prompt reply.
“What the hell is happening?” asked Dmitry angrily, not entertaining any pleasantries.
“We are holding out of sight and awaiting orders,” announced the pilot of the second chopper, somewhat bewildered by the defense minister’s tone.
“You’re holding out of sight and we’ve just lost all contact with the rest of your team!” he screamed into the radio.
As the second team’s communications appeared intact, a second helmet camera was activated and the screen jumped to life once more. The inside of the MI-17 showed thirty troops preparing to enter the action. Another massive bump on the screen pre-empted the door opening and the troops rushing out of the metal tube. Once again, as the helmet camera moved out into open ground, the feed died.
“What the fuck?!” screamed Dmitry, throwing his coffee cup against the wall, just inches from the screen. The cup exploded into a million pieces. The screen stayed blank and the speakers remained silent.
***
Pyotr raised his hand and his men froze. The main door lay slightly ajar. There was no sign of any guards, nor for that matter, any fighting or disturbance. He raised three fingers and motioned forward. The front three troopers rushed ahead, securing the door and the hallway beyond.
He motioned to his troops, and said, “go, go, go,” into his throat mic. With no response, he had no option but to send a trooper scurrying around the building in an attempt to coordinate the
Similar Books
