Matthew Dunn - Sentinel

“I know what you’re thinking. Laith and I will get him.”

Will nodded. “All right. But move fast.”

Will looked at Barkov. “If we don’t get him, will you turn on the beacons?”

Barkov looked uncertain.

“Will you turn on the fucking beacons?”

Barkov nodded. “All right.”

“In that case, here’s your weapon.” Will withdrew his handgun and slid it across the floor to the general.

The Russian grabbed the pistol, expertly checked its workings, rose to a crouch, and looked at Sentinel.

Laith’s words were nearly breathless; it was clear that he was running fast. “We’re out of the lodge, moving along the mountainside.”

Will looked out of the window, but the wall of smoke was still thick and prevented him from seeing the CIA men.

Sentinel looked at him sharply. “Dash for the car?”

Will thought rapidly. “Not yet. But we need to be ready. All of us, downstairs.”

They moved to the first-floor lounge. Will pointed at the kitchen. “In there.” The lounge had two sash windows that opened vertically. Will yanked the first one up three inches, pulled out the pin from a stun grenade, jammed the grenade in the open gap, and ensured that it was held fast with the heavy window pressing firm against the grenade’s lever. He did the same with the room’s other window and his second stun grenade. Moving to the lodge’s front door, he took out a thin piece of cotton, opened the door a few inches, primed and placed his last grenade on the floor within the gap, pulled the door closed onto the grenade, and tied the door firmly by wrapping the cotton around its handle and a lock on the door frame. Providing that the grenades weren’t spotted, a man who opened the windows or pulled back the door, while easily snapping the thread, would be in for a big surprise. The grenades were primed to explode the instant the levers were opened.

Will jogged into the kitchen and shut the door behind him.

They waited for ten minutes with Will pointing his gun at the door.

Roger’s voice sounded in his earpiece. The CIA officer’s words sent a shiver down Will’s spine.

“Ross’s dead, and we’ve found his rifle. There’s no sign of Razin. Somehow he must have got past us. But my God, Ross has been butchered!”

Will shouted, “Get back to us!”

“On our way!”

The noise of the stun grenade exploding in the adjacent bedroom was deafening. His ears ringing, Will dived to the side of the closed door, screaming, “He’s here!”

Sentinel dropped low into a crouch, pointing his assault rifle at the door. Barkov did the same.

Sentinel called, “I’ve got the door covered. Get in there and take him down while he’s still disoriented.”

Will instantly rose, his weapon held high, and kicked the door open. The front door was ajar, but the room looked empty. It was not. He was grabbed from the side and hurled across the room with tremendous force. Crashing against the far wall, he winced in severe pain, twisted, and started crawling toward his discarded rifle. But then he saw the back of a man, saw that man drop low by the doorway just as one of Sentinel’s bullets whistled over his head, heard the hostile’s gun fire twice, and saw the man enter the next room. Gasping for air and still lying on the ground, Will reached his weapon and pointed it at the doorway.

Razin emerged from the room holding Sentinel by the throat and using him as a shield. Sentinel’s white combat jacket was soaked in blood, clearly from a bullet wound to his upper body. Razin held a handgun jammed against his temple. Razin’s large fist was wrapped around not only the pistol’s handgrip but also a grenade. Will knew it was not the type of grenade that would merely stun.

Will took aim. Enough of Razin’s head was visible for him to easily kill the man. He started pulling back the trigger, but hesitated. A bead of sweat ran down his face.

Sentinel’s expression was one of absolute pain; his eyes were narrow. “Kill him!”

Will tightened his grip on his trigger.

Razin smiled, moving his captive a few feet into the bedroom. “If you shoot me, I’ll involuntarily squeeze the trigger and probably kill your colleague. But if I miss his head, my hand will certainly release the grenade and this room will be blown to pieces.”

Sentinel’s eyes were now wide, staring straight at Will. It was clear that the MI6 officer had not known about the grenade. Like Will, he would be rapidly trying to decide what should be done.

Razin tightened his grip around Sentinel’s throat, causing Sentinel to make a choking sound, and moved farther across the room. Will’s heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode.

Razin and Sentinel were now ten feet from Will, moving toward the exit. Will kept his gun trained on Razin’s head. If he shot him, they’d all die. That was a sacrifice Will was prepared to make, because Razin’s death was all that mattered. But it was an unnecessary sacrifice. Roger and Laith were on their way back. Maybe Razin didn’t know they were out there. If so, they’d have the element of surprise and could take him down when he was no longer holding the grenade.

The Spetsnaz commander squeezed his hand again. Sentinel’s eyes shut; he was unconscious. Razin reached the doorway. “I told you we’d meet again.” He flicked the hand holding the gun, tossing his grenade at Will, and instantly returned the gun to Sentinel’s head and dragged him out of the building. The grenade was still in midair as Will thrust his body up, sprinted, and dived headfirst through one of the closed sash windows. He heard glass shatter, Razin’s grenade explode, and the stun grenade he had jammed under the window ignite and cause brilliant white light and piercing noise to encapsulate his mind and body as he thumped onto the ground.

His body was in agony as a result of the shards of glass sticking in him, though the pain felt as if it belonged to someone else. Nothing seemed real except the noise and light that were gripping him with unrelenting ferocity.

One second, one minute, or one hour later-he had no way of knowing-a hand gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet. He staggered; white light remained all around him, but within it he saw two hazy dark silhouettes of men. They seemed to be talking, though their voices sounded distant and nonsensical. He spun around and vomited into the white light. The voices became louder, sounded urgent, then distinct.

“Will! Will!”

He shook his head, opened and shut his eyes, and tried to think. He breathed deeply, attempting to muster all of his remaining strength to focus his mind and body and make the white light and noise go away.

“Will!”

He felt another arm grab him, felt his body being marched over the ground while being held in the viselike grips on either side of him, and he heard one of the voices again. “Keep him moving until his balance returns.”

The white light began to fade. The noise began to ebb. He started seeing dots and shapes; they grew larger until he realized they were trees. He sucked in a lungful of air; the act caused him to gag and vomit again. But this time he saw his vomit land on a surface that was not light, but snow. He frowned, staring down at his feet for a while.

“Will?”

He blinked, stayed still for a moment longer, breathed slowly, then lifted his body until he was upright. One of the hands holding him released its grip. Will nodded. The other hand let go of him. He heard boots crunch over snow. He looked around. Roger and Laith were in front of him.

“Can you see and hear us?”

Will nodded again. He took a step forward. One of his knees buckled and he nearly fell to the ground, but he managed to put another foot forward quickly and stay on his feet. Looking at his legs, he saw large pieces of glass sticking out of them. He ignored them and looked at the CIA men. “The Mercedes?”