Echo Six: Black Ops 4 - Chechen Massacre (35 page)

The Greyhound returned them to Tokyo International Airport, and they boarded a Boeing 757 for the first leg of their return journey to Brussels. He fell into a deep sleep as they began the long flight over Russia, thinking about that other great mode of transportation, the Trans Siberia Express. Provided they’d repaired the damage Echo Six had wrought to their railroad and rolling stock, the trains would be back running again. When he came to, they were still two hours from their destination, and Alessandra was already wide awake.

“How do you feel?”

“Numb,” he told her frankly. “It looks like the second time we’ve been taken for a ride by those bastards, but I don’t get it. Why would they do it? I mean, last time they had a plan to make a huge financial killing to pay for their domestic nuclear program. But this time, there’s no obvious reason, nothing to gain. I could swear we were chasing the real thing.”

“It beats me,” she replied. “Inscrutable Orientals, who knows what’s going on in their minds? It’s just a pity it cost so many lives.”

He nodded. “As soon as I land, I intend to go see Vince. He’s recovering, but he must be cut up about Jerry Ostrowski.”

“Yes, I’ll come with you.”

Jerry Ostrowski. It rang a bell, something in his memory that was fighting to emerge. But what was it? And then it hit him, like a sledgehammer.

The marks Jerry made on the wooden crates! I didn’t check to see if they were on the crates I saw on the George Washington.

He spoke to a flight attendant, who passed his urgent request on to the cockpit. A few minutes later, a nervous looking First Officer escorted him to the rear of the cockpit and handed him a headset.

“Go ahead, Commander Talley. It’s already patched through to NATO headquarters in Brussels.”

He thanked him and spoke at length with Brooks, who assured him he’d get it checked urgently and relay the answer back to the flight deck.

“We’re facing a simple choice,” Brooks summed it up. “If it’s a yes, and the marks are there, we’re good. If it’s a no, I guess we’ll all be putting in some overtime.”

That’s another way of saying we’ll be fucked.

He waited for an hour for the message to come through. A pretty young flight attendant touched him on the shoulder.

“Commander Talley? The Captain asked for you and your companion to go forward to First Class. We have spare seats, and it’ll be more comfortable. It’ll be more convenient if there are further communications from NATO Headquarters.”

“Thanks, it’s appreciated. I’ll ask Captain Falco.”

He looked aside at Alessandra. She gave him an enthusiastic nod.

“We’ll come forward now. Was there a message for me?”

“Two messages, Sir. Firstly, from the Captain, he sends his compliments. He’s in the Air Force Reserves, flies a F/A 18 Super Hornet most weekends. He said to tell you he’s on your side, and anything you want, just ask.”

“That’s good to know.”

“And second,” she continued, “the message is one word. I wrote it down.”

They both waited in an agony of suspense for just one word that could and would change their lives, if it were the wrong word. She hunted through the pockets of her jacket, and Talley felt as if hours had elapsed before she finally pulled out a yellow Post-it and read it.

“The message is…”

Please, God, after everything, the dead, the wounded, the lives and property destroyed. The terror of families not knowing if their loved ones were safe; my own sons coming within inches of death, and all for what?

They waited. He touched Alessandra’s hand for support. It was almost too much to stand.

“Here, you’d better read it.”

She handed it to him, and he looked at the one word scrawl. Alessandra peered over his shoulder.

“What does it say?”

He let out a long sigh. “We’re good.”

But as he spoke, he knew it wasn’t true.

Not until I’ve hunted down the Korean and killed him. Until then, my business is unfinished.