Matthew Dunn - Sentinel

Roger spoke. “I reckon the rat will be waking up now.”

“Get it off of me!”

Will narrowed his eyes. “I repeat, not until you answer my question.”

Guy let out a scream, his face screwed up in terror. Gulping air, he shouted, “I’ll tell you anything. Untie the box. Please. Please.”

“No.”

Guy was hyperventilating. Will stood, stepped quickly forward until he was right in front of the MI6 officer, placed one hand over the box, and pushed it tighter against his body. “It appears my colleague is right. I can feel movement against the inside of the box.”

Guy stared with wide eyes at Will. His face was now a mess of sweat and tears. His body reeked of fear. “I’ll tell you!”

“Where is he?”

Before Guy could respond, Roger shouted, “Smoke!”

Will spun around, pointing his flashlight left and right. He heard movement to either side of him and knew that Laith and Roger were taking up defensive positions. “What’s happening?”

Roger did not answer but instead ran forward, his flashlight held firm against the side of his assault rifle. The beam from the flashlight moved toward the church’s entrance. Then Will saw what Roger had seen or smelled. Black smoke was wafting through the air. It was moving from the entrance toward the altar.

Will positioned his flashlight on Roger, who was now on the other side of the church. “Smoke grenade?”

Roger pressed himself beside the doorway, waited a moment, placed a hand against the wooden door, winced, then stepped away from the exterior wall. “Not a grenade. This building’s on fire.”

Will’s heart beat fast; he pulled out his handgun. “Razin!” He swung his light on Guy. “He’s come to silence you.”

Guy moaned. “Please take the box off me. I beg you.”

Will ignored the man and shouted, “Laith! We need an exit!”

From the darkness, the paramilitary officer replied, “I’m working on it.”

The smoke became thicker. Will began coughing. He unbuttoned the top of his jacket, pulled it up, and then closed it so that its collar was resting over the bridge of his nose, acting as a crude mask. Then he saw the first flames curling underneath the door. Soon there were more. Stained-glass windows burst as more smoke and flames moved into the church. Curtains caught fire, their dry fabric allowing the flames to accelerate up the walls. Sparks spat across the pews.

Laith shouted, “Run to my voice! I’ve found a side entrance!”

Roger dashed across the church. Will was about to move to check the exit but stopped as he felt something dripping on him. He pointed his flashlight at the roof. He saw one hole, then another, then many of them. Liquid was dripping through them, but within seconds it was pouring. His heartbeat increased as he realized what was happening. “Gasoline!”

He pulled out his military knife and ran toward Guy to cut him free of the ropes. But as he did so, liquid drenched the Head of Moscow Station. A spark jumped through air, landed on Guy’s lap, and set his clothes on fire. Will recoiled from the intense blaze and heat.

“Will, we have to get out of here!” Laith’s voice was desperate.

But Will tried to move closer to Guy. The man was screaming in agony; the smell of roasting flesh was in the air. More liquid fell onto Guy, and he became a human fireball. Gasoline from the other holes in the roof turned into columns of fire that rose up from the church floor to its ceiling. In the middle of them all, Guy rocked his body back and forth but could not free himself from his shackles. He stopped screaming. Will stopped moving.

“Will, come on!”

Will lifted his handgun, cursed everyone and everything, cursed himself, but at the same time decided that he was not going to let his prisoner die in agony. He pointed his gun at Guy’s head and pulled the trigger.

He turned and saw flames race across the pews toward him. Sprinting to the right, he reached the wall and was grabbed by Laith and hurled out of the side door. He crashed onto snow-covered ground, was grabbed again, this time by Roger, and was lifted to his feet and pulled fast away from the church. After a hundred feet they stopped. Laith ran to them, his rifle held high, scouring the area around them. The small church was now engulfed in flames.

“Razin’s got to be around here somewhere.” Will gripped his handgun tight. “We split up and hunt him down.”

A vehicle’s tires screeched in the distance. The three intelligence officers swung their weapons in the approximate direction of the noise but could see nothing.

“He’s getting away!” Roger moved his gun left and right. “Vehicle lights are off. He’s at least a quarter mile away… I’ve got no shot.” He lowered his rifle quickly and said, “To our car. Now!”

They ran away from the church into woods and continued for five hundred feet until they were close to the vehicle that Roger had carefully hidden between trees and undergrowth. Roger and Laith switched on their flashlights, spotted the car 150 feet away, and ran toward it. Will knew that Razin had driven away from the church along the only track leading to the place and that beyond it he would be joining a minor road that would continue for ten miles before branching into different directions. Roger’s driving skills would give them an excellent chance of closing in on Razin so that his car would be visible before he took one of the exits off the minor road. But Will wondered why Razin had driven his car so noisily, betraying his exit route.

He suddenly realized why, causing his stomach to churn and his legs to pump harder as he raced to his CIA colleagues. He shouted, “Get down,” leapt through the air, grabbed the Americans, and fell toward the ground while still holding them. Before they struck land, the car exploded, sending splinters of metal and glass in every direction.

The men lay on the snow, breathing fast, as pieces of debris fell over them. But none of them was harmed. Will pushed himself off the men, stood up, and stared at the decimated vehicle as it burned and emitted thick, noxious smoke from its melting tires. He shook his head as Roger and Laith got to their feet.

“Quick thinking.” Laith brushed ash from his jacket.

Will rubbed his face. “Razin could have driven away silently. Instead, he deliberately gunned his vehicle to make us dash to our car and either had a pretimed explosive in the car or used a detonator to explode our vehicle when he thought we were close enough.” He stamped a boot on the snow in frustration.

Roger checked his assault rifle and handgun. “I’ve got thirteen bullets left in my rifle and one magazine left for my handgun.”

Laith examined his weapons. “Six bullets for my rifle, eleven for my handgun.”

Will did not need to check his pistol. “I’m down to seven bullets.” He nodded at the burning wreck. “And my rifle was in there along with most of our other belongings.” He looked at his colleagues. “How much cash have you got?”

Roger patted a jacket pocket. “Neither of us has used our cash. Between us we’ve got one point five million rubles.”

The equivalent of approximately fifty thousand dollars.

“Which makes a total of seventy-five thousand dollars among the three of us.”

A siren sounded in the distance, followed by another.

Will said, “Shit.”

Laith muttered, “Why the hell did Razin decide to kill Guy now?”

“Because he found out that others knew about Guy’s treachery. And the only person who could have given him that information is Sentinel.” Despite the heat emitting from the nearby burning wreck, Will shivered. “Like us, Razin must have been watching the embassy, waiting to follow Guy and kill him. But we stepped in first, and he tailed us to the church.”