(This is an incredibly long post, for an incredibly good setup. There are bits I've bracketed, in case you fall asleep- bits that you should really pay attention to for your character's involvement. I've staggered the calls to work for both characters.)
(Victoria can be NPC'd, in regards to earlier phone calls. Keep it simple.)
Jan looked to them both, and then at the VDV movers, sighing distinctly as he knew this was fucked. Scott looked supportive, and he hadn't heard the snipers in a while. It seemed awfully strange, why they were off comms. But there had to be a reason, and for now, there was no reason to panic. Somehow, Jan felt sickly, horridly feeling inside that this was totally fucked. Sanderson sounded bitter. The VDV looked scary. Things were confusing, and yet, clear. They were hijacking their objective, and now, Jan was being ordered out. The snipers weren't coming in. Everything was at a head. A part of Jan wanted to put his weapon to Zhenya's head and ask again. But he couldn't. No, that wasn't the way things worked. They had to leave, and even though Scott agreed openly, he had to concede it. He was in for a bollocking anyway. Things had already gone to shit. He'd almost frankly disobeyed orders, and Lima was at a head.
"Fuck it. We're leaving. Later, I want answers, Zhenya. I'm not fighting your men for some intel. But I best know of it." Jan said coldly, as he turned his head, looking over. The look on his face said it all. He just didn't know anymore, he wanted out of this mess.
"We're headed back to LZ, Sanderson. We can't rally up the snipers. We'll assume they'll make their own way out." He said, as he reloaded his 416, a new magazine in, as they turned back from the guardhouse, Jan speechless, angered and just somehow blocking of the fact that this was so fucked. It took a few minutes, and within that time, more VDV had flooded the airfield, crowding it like it was their new forward operations center, which seemed almost appropriate given the number of BMD-3s, and soldiers moving in. Something was not right. And while Jan wanted to disobey completely and go against Sanderson's grain, he couldn't. He'd already instigated the damage, and there was an eye on him already. It would be suicide, if the VDV chose to fire warning shots back. Jan might as well put the bullet through his own skull if they crossed into the airfield itself. For now, none the less, getting away was his priority. These terrorists had to die, and Jan was going to make sure they paid. But at the same time, Jan knew that there was no getting around the fact that the intel they had come for was in Russian hands, a whole VDV Regiment, maybe even Brigade had dropped into the mountains, and they had BMDs, armed with 30mm guns and Konkurs-M ATGM launchers, thermal optics and plenty of expertly trained paratroops. Not a good idea. The MH6 would be back soon, and right now, Jan knew getting out of dodge was the best idea. This was coming to a close, and somehow, Jan wanted to go past this mess, fast.
----
"Shit!" Neil quietly exlaimed, looking at his radio, the whole thing dying dead.
"They've got fucking jammers. It's hit our frequency, they probably wanted whoever was inside there. Jesus. They mush have fucking pulled out of our blindspot, there's too many." Neil simply said, switching the thing off, looking down his DSR-50's optic, looking to the airfield.
"And I think we shouldn't be here. They've brought the fucking cavalry." He simply added, picking up the weapon, placing it onto his back, taking the Austeyr F88 Para that he had by his spotting position. It was a simple, yet brisk weapon. The white ghillie stood, looking to his female sniping companion.
"We can't extract with the rest, we're going to have to head south. I know, shit idea, but I'm running out of solutions here, Wendy." Neil said, loading a 9mm magazine into the weapon, as he then clambered up and over the rocky cover, moving back up the hill, waiting on her. It was going to be a walk and a half, and they had to leave.
It was almost ten hours later, when Wendy and Neil were just still walking, through the snow-bound forests, darkness decending. They didn't have NVG equipment, and this felt fucked. They were to get to an RV, but that hadn't arrived. They had missed their ticket out, and were now going to the Emergency RV, further south through the forests. The two moved slowly and surely, the cold kicking in now, as well as the darkness being prominent.
"Down here." He added quietly, as Neil clambered over a fallen tree, to the sight of a road.
"Shit, BMP. Head fucking down." Neil added simply, as he almost threw himself onto Wendy, to at least get their heads down. They wore white ghillies, and the snow was thick enough, as the BMP trundled past, merely 500m away.
"That was Armenian. They're Greenfor, no NATO affiliation, probably as fucking confused as we are about what's going on. We need to avoid contact." He said quietly to her, the cold snow at his face really kicking, and a little strange to the Australian. He'd spent time in the Australian Alps in the middle of winter as a part of his SASR Alpine Training, but that was little compared to this cold.
Standing, Neil checked the area, before moving through, following the forest line. And then, it descended into hell. Neil could have sworn on all his senses they were clear. But the Armenian soldiers that had been on patrol in the forest saw the two, and yelled loudly, standing only 20m behind. He couldn't tell what it was, but there was at least six of them, hunting TIAF militants. Right now, he was camoflaged in white and had no identification. He dropped the weapon and put his hands up, dropping on his knees at the sight, knowing that there was no point fighting this one. They were most definitely Armenian soldiers, and this was most definitely SNAFU.
----
0600 Hours
23rd December, 2013
Somewhere aboard the USS George H.W Bush
Gulf of Oman
The brig was a small place, a sealed room, and within it, sat Jan Wojtkiewicz, sitting by the end of the metal box. He wore a simple blue shirt and white baggy trousers, with a pair of cuffs around his wrists, and a locked door at the other side of the small room. He didn't want to sit on his bed, he wanted to sit on the metal floor, just thinking, the slight rumble a little clearer. The reasons he was here, he didn't entirely know. But he knew what had happened in the last few days. Following Lima's extraction, Sanderson gave leave to all, that is, except for Jan. No, Jan was here, and he was sitting in a metal hole, just thinking things over, as he had done for the last eight days. He was here due to personal compromises, or perhaps, the fact that Jan had gone too far. The investigation over the dead operators at the border town, and the events within his own squad, among other things. Jan's disobedience of orders, and perhaps personal vendetta. The snipers were missing too, that was the worst thing. It plagued him. Their comms had gone dead, and Jan knew that they weren't to make contact with them...though somehow, Jan felt uneasy that they hadn't given any information, not that he knew of. It was a nightmare, and right now, Jan knew that NATO and in particular, Sanderson were operating on the policy of Guilty, till proven Innocent. It had happened two days after the return to a NATO base in Turkey, that the events that now had unfurled had occurred. Why he was on this Carrier, he didn't entirely know. Pomp and circumstance, no doubt. They'd just said he needed to go here, and he was under the US Navy's jurisdiction, for now at least.
Right now, Jan was awaiting extradition back to Germany, to a hearing of what precisely he had done. What he had done, he didn't know. He felt bitter, angry. A victim, but perhaps, somewhat blind to what he had gone through. He had performed as his higher ups had said, but he had been too driven. Not willing to cage it in, instead using any method needed to get the job done. Sometimes, it had gone far enough, such as in Turkey. That had been too loud, and Sanderson still didn't understand entirely why. It was becoming personal, in Sanderson's view- Jan was compromised, and wasn't fit to lead. The Task Force had hit political problems, and there was still the pending investigation in Afghanistan. It was a nightmare. And whatever Jan was going to, it was high up. It was a problem that was going not with Polish Special Forces HQ, but with NATO's HQ itself, no less, Jan to be transferred from Ramstein AFB to Brussels at some point. It was something that Jan disagreed with, and asked many a question about. Right now, he knew two things. The snipers hadn't still been found in official, and they were MIA, and he felt as if they had been neutralized quietly by the Russian Spetsnaz. They had made sure they had disappeared, and somehow, Jan knew it wasn't good. They were no doubt, dead in a foreign field. Just like the other members of his team were.
The other thing, was that Scott was back home, in Britain, and that so was Zhenya, back in Russia. They'd been ordered back, and Lima was dissolved until further investigation was conducted. He wanted to go home, but he didn't know what to. No, this felt like betrayal. Like everything they'd done was going to hell. Jan knew that this brig wasn't much worse than home. But prison was a prison for a reason. Not uncomfortable, not to Jan, but restricted. He had given in that hope, and let his mind slip to other things, that was, until he heard a distant clanking.
The door opened, as the guard looked in.
"Wojtkiewicz, you have a guest." The US sailor said, as Jan nodded, the bearded Pole looking over, at the bright corridor light, before a female turned the corner. Victoria. The CIA operator attached on their operation in North-Eastern Turkey. She looked different to her usual battlefield self. She wore a navy blue suit, and her blonde hair was in a bun, her face lightly polished in apperance thanks to the makeup she wore, covering any bruises from training or operative work. She was somehow one of the few people Jan expected. But somehow, it felt unsurprising. The guard shut the door, as she chuckled.
"So, I hear you end up here. They really dragged you out...poor bastard...anyway, I've got news for you, Jan." She said, rather briskly, as she walked over to his bed, sitting down, looking over, as he sat up, a little confused.
"Spare me the bullshit, you're going to say I'm a fucking criminal too. You've come here to tell me that I'm wanted for several crimes against command and the intelligence community, and you'll happily make me a fucking eunuch." He said bitterly, as she shook her head, looking around the cell, before staring at Jan's eyes.
"No, you're not. You're a savior, if anything. After the operation, they sent me back to Langley. That intel you found, was a goldmine it turns out. We've got a lot out of it. The weapons dealer referenced has been wrapped up, by CIA proxy operators, and we interrogated him. Nothing from him, nothing significant, apart from the fact that we know they have something along the lines of a warhead in their possession. But what interested us was the manifest you found, and the possibility of an improvised nuclear warhead. A dirty bomb. A container arrived in Aarhus's container docks twelve hours ago, and was loaded two hours later onto a lorry. We were twenty minutes late to the dock, and we've lost all traces of it's movement, so we're going on pieced together intel from field assets. Right now, we're seeing a loose weapon. It's more than likely that this is not a loose threat. This is real." She said, as Jan looked over, the sight flashing back in his head somewhat.
"Go on." He said, swallowing saliva, as he listened patiently.
"We connected the pieces together. What you hit in Turkey, was a storage point. There was a production facility within the Caucasus, but it seems to be wiped off the map. We don't know who hit it, it was either ransacked by the Russian MVD, or abandoned, but satellite and drone intel suggests it's just vanished. The TIAF itself has rallied outside of Turkey, and have credible links to Al-Qaeda. The Turkish Military have lost all the HVTs they were hunting. They're waiting on spring, and then they'll launch an attack on Turkish soil like no other...and they've got this going now. They're deploying at least 50 men and a pair of chemical weapons to Copenhagen, as an attack on the West. A message for us to understand their state."
"The Russians don't know anything about this, and frankly, they don't need to know. But what we know is that they have intelligence we lack. We can guess to some things. The Danish authorities have alerted us to a terror threat, as have the German and Dutch Intelligence Services. They say that right now, there are weapons, note weapons, of mass destruction in the European mainland. Most likely destination, Copenhagen, on Christmas Eve. Millions of people would be in a projected blast radius within the city. That last bit, they are skeptical about. And I can assure you, from what I've seen with my own eyes, they are wrong." She said, taking a breather, as she looked to him.
"It's going to be there, and the analysts can already sample where the most likely connections exist, for their setup. The Russians don't know about this loose nuclear warhead, keep that in mind. They know that chemical attacks could hit major areas. But this, this is a different scale. These chemical weapons are now merely a false flag for something much bigger. Spread their chips, so they can make the big show much less attractive." She said, as she looked out, then back at him.
"The Russians already sent in a VDV Airborne Brigade into Northern Armenia, and they appear to be having counter-militants, armed with modern AK series rifles in the mountains of Turkey and all of Armenia. Little Green Men, Jan. No doubt, this is a TIAF attack what is going to happen in Copenhagen. But I have a feeling that if it were to happen, the Russians would have a just war. A just cause for occupation. And you know full well that can't happen. Even if the Russians let it slide, millions will die. I know you stopped caring for the politics, and maybe Langley would rather we had stability in the Caucasus. So at least do this for the people, not the Russians..." She said, as he looked to the wall, as Jan was thinking it through.
"Fucking Zhenya. Knew it."
"He's a mere cog. This Medved team, it's Spetsnaz Vympel. They work closely with the MVD, and they've been there for almost a month in those mountains. They were gathering inteligence on TIAF capabilities. We found this out in the period you've been locked up. Zhenya is still an active asset, but he isn't anything major. He's got connections, but if he was deep cover, then I wouldn't be bringing him into what I have planned. He's a good man, no matter what." She said, as Jan shrugged his shoulders, Victoria knowing the look on Jan's face.
"I assume that this will be more major, something that will be impossible to control. Trying to convince the authorities that this exists as a clear and credible threat to stop is nearly impossible. The Danish already have all the FKP and Jaegre forces out, as well as EOD teams scattered about the city, though that won't do much good, because they think it's a false threat, like so many we've had. They always mention tens of men being implicated. And now, I think that might be true. Intel most likely says that they'll attack the City Centre, around the Bredgade. The main high street, where there's going to be tens of thousands of Christmas shoppers and various festivities going on. It'll be easy for them to orchestrate, even with increased security. Point being, Langley doesn't want a loud noise connected to it on the ground. I need someone on the outside. You're the last chance we really have. Otherwise, we're going to have to stand and watch." She said, as Jan laughed, looking over.
"And that's it. You just want me to go back, and somehow fucking save the free world. When nobody believes me." He said, chuckling, as she looked over.
"Well, when you put it like that, you know that you have believers now. Your alternative is rotting in a cell for the next four years in a Polish prison, then add to that a few months in a NATO cell. I know your choice well enough right now. It's something you're prepared to do."
"Perhaps. Carry on."
"I can get you Scott and Zhenya again. And I know that they're good assets. Zhenya, yes, tricky. But you will need him. Trust me, I know your team's inner workings. You need a third man, and you have one him- whether he likes it or not, he is going to come, I can tell. He'll cover your back if the Russians want answers, and they'll pull him out no doubt as a deniable asset later on. I'll feed him the basics, you'll need to explain the rest of what I've just told you and what we know in entirety to him. It will be something he'll go alone on, I'm sure. Besides, I already know that look in your eye. You want vengeance for Gunther, and those other men. You're sick and tired of the bullshit that's been put up." She said, as he looked to her, as she smirked.
"I'll get you a vehicle, and your equipment. I've got a phone to hand, and you can call them, of the details of how this works. The only problem is, you're in a brig on the most reinforced aircraft carrier this side of the world. Thousands of Sailors between you and 20km worth of swimming to Oman." She said, as Jan chuckled, knowing she was going to elaborate a little more.
"You'll have an opportunity to bail out while you're en route to Brussels. I'll make sure of it. Once it happens, get yourself, by any means, to a Rasthof called Bad Neumond, on the Autobahn 1 heading north to Hamburg. I'll have a stash waiting for you there, and you can regroup with the other two. I'll have them a couple of hours from your position by this point; I'll explain the finer details soon. From there on out, no more communication with us. You're on your own. Danish Police, as well as any deployed Royal Danish Armed Forces soldiers will treat you exactly like a TIAF militant. But you're going to need to sacrifice whatever you can. After it's done, you vanish. Like a ghost. Shouldn't be too hard for you. Zhenya will find a way, no doubt. Scott, I can deal with him. But you, you need to do it yourself."
"It's fine. I'll sort it. And why aren't you coming?" Jan said, as Victoria smirked, knowing his attitude to this.
"Please, you gave me enough adventure. I'll cover your backs on the far side, make sure you at least haven't got too many worries. I'll be dealing with Scott's aftermath, and it's besides the point that you know what to do better than I ever would do on the ground. I just know the places and events. Speaking of which, I'll explain what leads you can go on. There's a suspected building, an old office block, on the main road itself. Seems that it's been rented out approximately a week ago, and the owners, we don't know much about. They seem very shady, and the profiling fits, that they're borrowing a space to set up their work. You need to secure that first. Danish EOD and SOF teams will be close by to the Copenhagen Metro, and the Lufthavn, but this, we think that the Bredgade and City Hall the most susceptible. You find the devices, and stop anyone in your way at any costs. You don't shoot civies, and you make sure that once it's done, you don't end up as the next piece of 100-page paperwork on my desk." She said, as Jan smirked.
"It sounds better than sitting here. Fucking rats. You've given me this chance at least." He replied, as she nodded, looking at the door, before back at him.
"Glad to hear. So, you're in?"
"Just make sure my 416 is there, I have an opportunity, and that car, it's a black Land Rover Defender. Apart from that, I'm in."
"That we can do."
--------------
23rd December, 2013
2200 Hours
Somewhere on the E42, en route to Liege
Rhineland-Palatinate, Germany
The pair of G-Wagens were going at the speed limit, and were the two vehicles taking Jan to Brussel. They had two guards each, and Jan was handcuffed inside, to a hardpoint steel bar that was a part of this specific vehicle's frame. This was it. Just as Victoria had later told him, later on. They were pulling over here, for fuel. This was a designated stop, and there were four men to deal with. They were private security staff, of all things. Contracted for prison runs, of low-key, but high value individuals that needed to be dealt with by NATO personally. Jan was one of the rare few, and they assumed he was a good little prisoner. No need for much security, when a man like this was unlikely to kick out. Except right now, Jan was willing to go beyond that suspected risk. This was a setup, an easy way out, a way that had been given to him on a platter. The security team was three men down from usual, and that worked perfectly. They pulled into the petrol station, and the cold, wet rain stopped erking across the blacked out window to Jan's left, one of the men getting out under the cover of the roofed station. Jan was careful. The guard wasn't looking in his mirror. It was the tiniest click, but it was slow. Something he had left there for a while, but the pin had slipped into place, something that had been stabbed deep within his upper left armpit. It was an old trick, but these cuffs were shit, and Jan could only guess that they'd forgotten his particular skillset. One man got out, and the other G Wagen parked up a little further, as he slowly took the cuff out. Click. It was gone.
The cuff dropped onto the leather seat, the G-Wagen just a regular vehicle, not reinforced or anything in particular. Private companies, he told himself. They'd literally thrown him into a car like this, cuffed up for his own good around a bulkhead, and now look what had happened. The doors were locked, yes, but there was one man in front. The service station was empty, and Jan, of all people, was someone who didn't mind doing what he had to do. There were only a pair of other cars here, and no witnesses. Just two G-Wagens, on this stretch of Autobahn, at a quiet little Petrol Station. And that was perfect for him, as he thrust forwards, grabbing the man in the passenger seat, a sharp turn of his hands snapping the man's neck, as Jan pulsated with rage.
The Pole smacked the release, and got out, throwing a low kick at the guard that was fuelling the vehicle right by his left, aware he had no idea through the blacked out windows. Oh, they really slipped up this time. Jan knew that it was a setup, yes, Victoria had bought this for him. It looked like a perfect prison break, but to him, it was child's play. This was too easy. It was sad what he had to do to these men, but it was for the greater good. He told himself that. People who didn't deserve to die, yes, but people who at the end of the day, were blocking him from getting what needed to be done, over and completed. The man he had just kicked was knocked out with a sudden blow to the side of the temple, as one of the guards shouted in German to the other, a little paranoid. Jan was playing this situation just fine. He felt the bulge in the man's suit jacket, and pulled the Glock 17 from his cable-attached holster, snapping the cord as he moved around to the back, aware that the others were coming, guns ready. They were suspicious that there was a man on the floor, and the passenger looked dead as anything. But that wasn't to Jan's concern. Now, it had begun.
Peeking his head out, he shot five times at the two security guards, both Germanic looking and former military, but completely unaware of the man that Jan was. He had enough time in GROM under his belt to understand Escape and Evasion, and this was a part of it. Do whatever was needed to survive. Shooting the men, was a part of the plan. One took a clean 9mm round to the head, as the other took four in the torso, being thrown to the ground before they even manged to respond, a single bullet straying the G-Wagen's side. Somehow, Jan didn't like the fact he was wielding a firearm at a petrol station, and that there was CCTV right now, straying his bearded Polish face. He knew what to do. And he knew it well. He moved past, and ran forwards, another couple in their Suzuki Swift petrified at the sight of the gunman, hands raised inside their car as Jan approached. He gave a simple wave, and spoke politely in German.
"Hands up, out of the car, now." He said, as best as he could, the petrified young-looking couple completely frozen. He walked to the side and dragged the driver out, a mid-20s something businessman of sorts hitting the concrete, as his female companion stepped out, hands raised clearly, as Jan looked to them both. He needed different transport than a Mercedes G-Wagen. Something that could have a tracker. He needed civilian transport.
"I promise I won't hurt you. Turn around." He said once more, as he pointed the gun at them both, nodding for them to move, as they slowly turned away from him.
"Run." The Pole simply added, as the businessman's girlfriend screamed and they moved away with a certain fear, the man looking behind slightly, Jan piling into the Swift before he knew that the clerk could see. Jan had to leave, right now, before anything happened. The police could be on the way. Anyone else could be on his back right now, but he had to go. He started the engine and sped away, the tank full; Jan thankful that they'd topped up with petrol before he had started this. Perhaps they were ready to go. Right now, he had blood on his hands, and had carjacked a young couple. He felt horrible inside. But this was the way the world worked. Perhaps stop a million dying by killing a few. It was a sacrifice that was worthwhile.
-----------------
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VeSIK4NnDc
(An OST)
Two Hours Later
0000 Hours
24th December, 2013
Somewhere on Autobahn 1 en route to Bremen
Lower Saxony, Germany
Bad Neumond was 2km away. Hurrah. Jan felt tired, but he had slept most of the time on the plane to Ramstein, and even in the G-Wagen that he'd been held arrested within. Waiting, just waiting, for his chance. He had the same Glock he had shot those three men with, and knew full well that one would be left breathing, able to tell a tale. Jan knew it was no concern. He'd be taken aside by the CIA and told quietly to sell his story differently, before blurting anything silly. It worked best for both parties. But his friends were unlucky, and that was just the way that things worked. He was a criminal now, no doubt he'd be on TV for murder and theft of a vehicle, and when the morning came, German papers would be sprawling with the news, that a Special Forces soldier of unknown type had escaped. There were people that would make sure his identity was never truly revealed, but his face, oh, that would have to be shown. So Jan knew that this dark was a good thing. The rain poured down, covering the windshield of the black Suzuki, the nimble little thing pulling along the lorry-strewn roads that led to Hamburg and Bremen. The German Autobahn never seemed to be an interesting thing in itself, or the places it got you to. It got you from one side of Germany to another. That was the one reason it existed, to Jan at least. And right now, it was doing a good job.
Bad Neumond was 1km away. Closer. It was a tiny little place, only marked with a P, for Parking symbol. A phone was there too, apparently, and would be Jan's way of getting things done over the line with Victoria, Zhenya, and Scott. He had one more call to make as well to someone. One that he knew he owed himself. Right now, Jan knew what he was going to look like. A man intent on death. Jan knew there was nothing more he owed himself now, apart from this. Finishing this. He was good within GROM, and wished to return. But it was a life of pain and soldering, as was Lima. Civilian life wasn't for him. He hadn't found a lasting relationship, and doubted he would. This was his life, and right now, it was his duty to finish this. He had seen many things that many would not have the chance to see. And perhaps this was the end of the literal road, for Jan. He didn't know what after. He promised Victoria he wouldn't be a problem. He didn't know what to feel. Suicidal? No, not entirely. But the thought wasn't far. That after this, it was a life as far as possible from society as need be, or a death. Nobody would remember him. He'd be remembered as a madman, as a lunatic who murdered a couple innocents in an attempt to flee his certain prosecution. But perhaps there was some sanity to this. Perhaps Jan knew that it was the only way to do right. That this was a hard path indeed.
Bad Neumond was 500m now. He began to indicate, and look in his mirrors, seeing few and little traffic. The rest stop, or Rasthof, was completely empty, apart from the odd lorry driver parked for a night's sleep. It felt strange to be going on like this. It was madness.
Stopping the Swift, he exhaled hard, the cold rain pouring outside, as he put his head in his hands, turning the engine off. He looked to his left, and saw the black Land Rover Defender, a stern but small smirk on his face, as he knew precisely what it was. It was one that he had been wanting to buy after this Tour. A black, ex-British military Land Rover, three seats in the front, and a covered rear that within, Jan could only guess he had been left the equipment. But that was not the focus. Right now, he had to get to work on a few things. Clambering out, he grabbed a small wallet from a handbag in the passenger footwell, the fiance, girlfriend or wife of the man that he had carjacked a few hours earlier proving to be a little more than useful. There was enough change for what he wanted. Stepping out into the rain, the bearded Polish GROM operator, a Captain of a Special Forces unit that no longer existed, and now a criminal, both for what he'd done to those people and to his men, now moving to the covered phonebox. It sat next to the toilets, which looked as grotty as Jan remembered Rasthof restrooms to be. Walking past, he picked up the phone, and let the number run through his head. First call.
The phone slowly whined, as he heard the other side respond in German. It was a night nurse, at the Bundswehr's Middlestadt Military Hospital, a hospital that Jan knew a certain man was staying. He spoke in his best German, knowing he had to connect to a specific someone.
"Hello?" The nurse asked, as Jan looked around, checking his area.
"Hello, I'm calling for a friend in the hospital. He said to call at this time, apologies. His name is Gunther, I believe his patient number is 542-002, or something like that. He said to connect to him." He said, as the nurse seemed a little suspicious.
"Sir, I don't think I can put you through to that line.."
"I served with the man, in Afghanistan. He knows me. Put me through. Now." He said bluntly, as the lady on the other end responded, perhaps a little shocked at the confidence that Jan used, even though his German wasn't pitch perfect. The line buzzed, as he waited, just slowly letting the time tick as the tone rang.
"Hello? Who is this?" Gunther said, as Jan chuckled, hearing the Automatic Rifleman's Germanic voice in his ear.
"It's Jan. I said I would call back. Sorry about the time. Just wanted to report in, see how you're doing." Jan retorted, as Gunther sat up in his hospital bed, looking out, before adjusting his phone's receiver.
"Yeah...what's going on, Captain? Your voice gives it away, you sound like you're not sure of something. Is that rain?" He said, as Jan looked around the corner, knowing nobody was here, before carrying on.
"It's complicated, Gunther....look, it might be my last chance to just say goodbye. Things are getting a little bit complicated."
"You been deployed somewhere dangerous again?"
"Worse. Look, I haven't got a lot of time. All I can say is, I'm going to make what happened right. I promise you.
"What do you mean?"
"I said it before..but I didn't deliver on it. I'll see you in the next life, mate. Take care of yourself." Jan said, putting the phone back, cutting off, aware that it was the best option to take. A few more calls to make, then he had some keys to grab. It was dark, but he knew where to go. Twenty steps directly to the left of the payphone, up the bank, and right by his feet, would be the keys. For now, he had to call Victoria, and confirm he was here. Maybe it wasn't as clean as he could have done, but it was the best in that situation. Any later, he'd have had more security. And earlier, he'd have been running away from Ramstein Air Force Base, with at least a couple of thousand of mixed Air Force personnel on his back. It was the best he could do.
The phone buzzed in Victoria's office, as she took the call, herself in Langley now. They'd left the George HW Bush quickly via a US Navy helicopter to a US AFB in the UAE, followed by a military flight to Ramstein. It had been a quick turnaround for her, and she'd pulled it off well, or as best as a field coordinator such as her could do, working for the SAD.
"Got you, Songbird. Eagle's here." Jan said, as Victoria chuckled on the other end of the line, Jan looking around, blanking out the pissing rain coming down. He only wore his blue shirt and white trousers still, perhaps a little relaxed for prisoner's garb, but something that was vaguely something that Jan was allowed to keep. He was under arrested suspicion, but he wasn't exactly the most wanted when he was in that Brig. And right now, he could tell Victoria seemed a little more at ease with what Jan had to do, as crazy as that sounded.
"Line's secure enough, nothing gets tracked, Jan. I saw your little debacle. We're dealing with the man you knocked out, fucked his shit up pretty bad, but he'll be alright. We'll make sure he says nothing about you, it'll cover your tracks for the next 24 hours at least. We've got personal bragging rights to ask him the details through our proxy in the German Polizei."
"Beautiful." Jan said coldly, somehow not feeling too chuffed, but a little remorseless, a little cold.
"You seem cheerful."
"I'm trying, Victoria. It's hard to do when you have two criminal records that look equally as bad, and could be thrown in prison for multiple life sentences for what I'm going to do. The other two are covered, right?"
"Scott and Zhenya won't have to worry about the consequence. Most of the blame goes on you. I get Scott off the hook, the Russians will spare Zhenya. We don't think they're deploying any Vympel Teams. But I've insisted that Zhenya come, I've told him about the possibility of more WMDs than expected. It's still the three- two chemical weapons, and one dirty bomb, more likely primed as a light nuclear warhead. You can tell him the rest of the scale of attack."
"Just another fucking day. Millions of lives are at stake. Can't fucking believe this is all we have against it." Jan said, looking out, a little bitter still, wiping his brow of water.
"Well, I guess it isn't the most attractive path, what you'r doing. Anyway, grab those keys, and enjoy the gear. I left you what you wanted. Scott and Zhenya have what they want too. Counter-Terrorist gear, untraceable, but the best that we have. Picked to their taste"
"Thank you, Victoria. Why did you do all of this? I mean, from what I see, you could have just left me to rot and given this problem to someone else."
"It's because I know you're right. Lima was put up to get rid of paperwork. If there was one thing I learned from you, it was that you wanted these bastards dead. No politics, no drama, no bullshit. You saved my ass once or twice back in Turkey. If it's the last thing I do for you in return, so be it. The path of those who want to fix the world is a long and narrow one. And you might as well ride it."
"You have no idea how much this means to me, Victoria. I mean, honestly. Dzienkuje (Thanks)." Jan said, as she smiled.
"Bez Problemu (No Problem). Goodbye, Jan. Do me proud." She said, as the phone hung up, from Victoria's end. Jan exhaled. This wasn't over. But it was, and it was coming to a close. He felt soft inside, but the Special Forces operator heart and soul kept him thinking. Logically, just sanely.
(This is Skyth's call. I've left it intentionally open-ended, so responses will be made with Jan to this call, even though it's going to be a little chronologically strange in context at places.)
Third call to make. Jan put in more change, enough for three minutes of conversation. He hated payphones more by the minute, he reminded himself, but it had to be this way. He had to perhaps be a little careful, as Jan knew that with Zhenya, it was tricky. He felt betrayed, and felt as if he was calling the person of whom was attached to the people who had made the snipers merely vanish, like a magician's trick. He had no idea where they went. But only one think stuck out to Jan. Perhaps Zhenya could see some sense. That Lima was dead, and this was a personal ask. That they had to do this, the three of them. Anything that happened, was on Jan's head. And he was a fucking good shot, be it with an SVD or a RPD. He was a funny man, and while Jan would never naturally get on with a Spetsnaz soldier, mainly for just being Russian and partly for being a completely polarized opponent to NATO, he was a person of interest. Someone who could be relied upon in a firefight, albeit not in politics. That was what mattered. And he'd been through it all. Seen it all. Lent a hand where needed. He was maybe mistrusted, but he was a fighter, and multitalented, as comfortable kicking someone's face in as well as taking out a grouping of hostiles, single-handedly.
"Friend, this is Eagle. Simple question right now, answer with a yes or no. Got some ants chewing the wire?" Jan asked, as he kept the reciever up, aware of what he was asking. Most listeners wouldn't pick it up immediately, but perhaps he knew that Zhenya would see it a little easier; namely, if the phone was bugged or not. He waited for a response, simply letting Zhenya ask the questions, quickly adding something in. He waited for the response, before he continued, only giving scant details only known to Zhenya.
"I'm in position at the RV, Songbird has confirmed it with you no doubt, you're close." Jan added, just waiting on Zhenya to confirm his end.
(This is Silverwind's call. Same as above.)
The next call wasn't too hard. Scott was someone that Jan trusted well, probably the last man left. A Brit, who was an operator that knew how to drive, shoot, and destroy. Those skills were something that Jan knew that the SAS taught well these days, and that Scott did good at. He was differently tuned to Zhenya- perhaps Jan knew that Scott was someone that would follow him through this, even though in a shot like this, Jan somehow knew that Scott didn't deserve to share Jan's fate. The Pole knew that Scott at least should go home, get a family, have kids, and be that dad that was in the SAS and did lots of crazy shit, only to be doubted by others. Perhaps he'd go on.
"Mate, it's Eagle. Songbird's pinged up that the RV is as aformentioned. Got our kit here. Looks good, if you're close by, we can get this show on the road." Jan said, letting Scott be the judge here about the wiretap, somehow doubtful that SIS or the Special Forces Directorate would install a wiretap, but playing it careful no less, till Scott cut the whole thing first. No less, Jan could guess that this was going to be alright, and they could carry on with this. It was the last of the change. And he was done here.
--------
(Chronology picks up here.)
0200 Hours
Bad Neumond (Rasthof)
Lower Saxony, Germany
Time had ticked. And the sky was still dark, and the rain had become cold, it had become sleetish. It wasn't sticking, but it was miserable, and cold. He waited in the black Land Rover Defender, with changed clothes and kit. He had his HK416, as good as new, ready to go. An EOTech 553 sight sat on the weapon, with a 3X Magnifier sitting behind it, a PMAG loaded in and a VFG foregrip on the weapon. A Surefire Mini Monster silencer sat at the end, with the CTR stock as usual, Jan's favorite. He had it pushed in, to be compacted, and it sat below visible sight, in the door. He wore a grey-black battle dress uniform, camouflaged somewhat in a digital shade, with a black and blue chequered bandana/thermal bandit covering his mouth and nose, being something a little comfortable. A black beanie sat on his head, with a headset around his right ear, a plate carrier and vest on his chest. A pair of red-tinted Oakleys sat around his neck, on a strap, for use when it was sunnier perhaps, over times like this. His Mk23 sat in a holster at his right hip holster, and his BK3 at his left holster, his usual plate carrier being as usual. A British Army-specification, as well as personally preferred Predator 45 sat on the middle passenger seat, being a compact rucksack that Jan had gone for, camouflaged in a matt black, carrying a couple of explosive charges, as well as a few other bits of equipment- defusal equipment, and a couple of grappling hooks, attached to cord.. His good old boots, and lack of insignia on his shoulder, juxtaposed each other. It was a strange feeling, to be missing the Anchor, and the flag. This wasn't something he wanted to be proud of, it wasn't for Poland, not for an ideal, not for friends. It was for the sheer humanity that Jan wanted to finish.
Jan was waiting now, waiting for them to arrive.
The rest of the team would probably drive in, park up, and they'd go on from there, in this vehicle. It was still abandoned, and only a few of the truckers had left. Jan had downed a little Red Bull that Victoria had left in the car, and it kept him awake, though he knew that en route to Copenhagen, he'd have to let Scott drive, and get an hour or two of kip, just thinking time. Time to think about his life. Was this it? The end? Maybe it was, perhaps it was all that had been. Jan knew that this might really be it. Nothing could justify what he had done. Even if the threat was credible, and they disarmed it, nobody would forgive him. It would have been treason. At the highest level, a crime to have committed against Denmark, but his native Poland too. Germany as well, why not. Jan was already aware that this was it. The ending.
------
Somewhere
Neil gagged a little, staying quiet, but feeling sickly. Emotions didn't describe what the Australian national felt in the prison. It was a shitty place to be, far worse than Jan's brig. At least his was furnished nicely. It was a concrete block, a nasty piece of work for nasty pieces of work to be held in. And now, they were being pulled out of this mess, him and Wendy, almost wanting to spit, as he was punched hard in the stomach. He recoiled almost, the five man MVD team dragging him and Wendy to somewhere probably worse. Neil knew of the Aquarium, in Moscow. The FSB's interrogation centre, and why was it called the aquarium? Because that was where they invented waterboarding, and many other torture techniques that were probably not officially disclosed at all. Neil knew that RTT was something you were taught in the SASR, just like Wendy knew it too. But they would hurt them, and Neil didn't want any harm to come to Wendy, not her. She was a strong woman, the Canuck built well, but something that Neil knew. But for now, he was in agony. It felt as if his whole intestine had been blasted apart, as he recoiled hard, a harsh tone leaving his throat, as he vaguely could make out the Russian they spoke, but was too much in pain. They were dragged out, Neil still in pain, as they were thrown into the back of the car. He wanted to yelp, but couldn't find it in him. When he saw the sight of Zhenya, he couldn't even do a chuckle.
"Thanks. Tell your guy he's ruined that last meal I had. Anyway, what the fuck happened to Lima?" Neil said, croaking almost, as he sat up, looking at the box of uniforms that Zhenya had left.