Capture Me(16)

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“Well, if she doesn’t, then she should.” I turn back to the controls. “You don’t cheat, you take good care of her, and you’ve risked your life to save her before. If that’s not being a good husband, then I don’t know what is.” As I speak, I notice a flicker of movement on the radar screen.

Frowning, I peer at it closer.

“What is it?” Esguerra’s tone sharpens.

“I’m not sure,” I begin saying, and at that moment, a violent jolt rocks the plane, nearly throwing me out of my seat. The plane tilts, angling down sharply, and adrenaline explodes in my veins as I hear the frantic beeping of controls gone haywire.

We’ve been hit.

The thought is crystal clear in my mind.

Grabbing the controls, I try to right the plane as we plunge through a thick layer of clouds. My heartbeat is rocket fast, its pounding audible in my ears. “Shit, fuck, shit, shit, motherfucking shit—”

“What hit us?” Esguerra sounds calm, almost disinterested. I can hear the engines grinding and sputtering, and then the smell of smoke reaches me, along with the sound of screams.

We’re on fire.

Fucking fuck.

“I’m not sure,” I manage to say. The plane is nosediving, and I can’t get it to straighten out for longer than a second. “Does it fucking matter?”

The plane shakes, the engines emitting a terrifying sputtering noise as we head straight for the ground below. The peaks of Pamir Mountains are already visible in the distance, but we’re too far to make it there.

We’re going to crash before we reach our goal.

Fuck, no. I’m not ready to die.

Cursing, I resume wrestling with the controls, ignoring the readouts that inform me of the futility of my efforts. The plane evens out under my guidance, the engines kicking in for a brief moment, but then we nosedive again. I repeat the maneuver, calling on all my years of piloting experience, but it’s futile.

All I manage to do is slow our descent by a few seconds.

They say your life flashes in front of your eyes before your death. They say you think of all the things you could’ve done differently, all the things you haven’t had a chance to do.

I don’t think about any of that.

I’m too consumed with surviving for as long as I can.

Beside me Esguerra is silent, his hands gripping the edge of his seat as the ground rushes toward us, the small objects below looming ever larger. I can make out the trees—we’re over a forest now—and then I see individual branches, stripped of leaves and covered with snow.

We’re close now, so close, and I make one last attempt to guide the plane, directing it to a cluster of smaller trees and bushes a hundred yards away.

And then we’re there, crashing through the trees with bone-shattering force.

Strangely, my last thought is of her.

The Russian girl I’ll never see again.





II





The Detainment





8





Yulia



Seven and a half hours.

The train was stuck in that tunnel for seven and a half hours. The relief I feel as the doors finally open at the next station is so strong, I actually shake with it.

Or maybe I shake from hunger and thirst. It’s impossible to tell.

Stepping out of the cursed train, I push through the herd of exhausted, stressed-out commuters and take the escalator upstairs. I need to call Obenko immediately; my handlers must be going mad with worry.#p#分页标题#e#

“Yulia? What the fuck?” As expected, Obenko’s furious. “Where are you?”

“At Rizhskaya.” I name the train station some twenty stops away from my destination. “I was on the Kaluzhsko-Rizhskaya line.”

“Ah, fuck. You got stuck because of that idiot.”

“Yeah.” I lean against an icy wall at the top of the stairs as people hurry past me. According to the last update from the train conductor, the reason for the delay was a hostage situation two trains ahead of us. A Chechen national got the bright idea to strap on a homemade bomb and threaten to blow himself up if his demands weren’t met. The police managed to subdue him, but it took them hours to do it safely. Considering the seriousness of the situation, it’s a miracle we were able to get off the train before nightfall.

“All right.” Obenko sounds a bit calmer. “I’ll get the team to return to the pickup location. Are the trains running again?”

“Not the Kaluzhsko-Rizhskaya line. They said it’ll resume running later tonight. I’m going to have to take a taxi.” I shift from foot to foot¸ my bladder reminding me that it’s been hours since I’ve had access to a bathroom. I need that, and food, with extreme urgency, but first, there’s something I must know. “Vasiliy Ivanovich,” I say hesitantly, addressing my boss by his full name and patronymic, “did the operation... succeed?”