Axis Files: Operation Badger - Chapter 4
One minute, Vladimir Pushnaya and Nikolai were sipping vodka while four of their men ran millions of euros through money counting machines. The next minute, they were drinking from the chalice of chaos.
They’d been halfway done with the process when the first explosion shook them from their seats. Then came another. Then larger explosions rocked the foundation of the old warehouse and rattled the windows.
Pushnaya had risked a look out the window against the recommendations of Nikolai. He saw nothing, save for some of his men dead on the ground while the survivors scrambled to take up defensive positions.
“What is happening?” Pushnaya roared as the gunfight raged down in the yard below.
He scrambled to collect his things while Nikolai, his second-in-command, stuffed duffle bags with cash.
“We’re under attack,” Nikolai answered. “We must escape.”
“Attack?” Pushnaya asked. “From who? Who would dare? Who would even know?”
His answer came with the sound of more gunfire, then silence.
Pushnaya listened intently. Nikolai did the same. The boss waved his hand toward the money counters, urging them to work faster as they hurriedly stashed bills into bags.
“Don’t worry about counting it now. Take all you can.”
The bulbous Russian looked toward the window again, unwilling to get in the open in case the attackers felt like taking a crack at him. For all Pushnaya knew, there could be snipers outside with their scopes lined up on the window, just waiting for him to make a mistake.
He briefly considered ordering one of his men into the middle of the room to collect some random object, just to see if a bullet would streak through and strike the man, but Pushnaya decided against it. The sacrifice would prove nothing other than his assumptions, and to get out of this alive, the big Russian had the feeling he was going to need all the help he could get.
Pushnaya’s eyelids narrowed to slits as he continued to listen. The gunbattle had faded to the eerie silence of a rainy night. Heavy raindrops pattered on the metal roof above. The counters also paused, as it seemed the Earth itself waited for something to happen.
“Don’t stop,” the boss ordered, whipping his hands around in circles.
The money counters nodded and returned to their task, shoveling stacks of euros into black bags.
Then another explosion shook the building and sent the men in the office diving for cover. The rickety glass in the window rattled nearly to the point of breaking.
“That’s it,” Pushnaya called out. “Get what we have and move.”
“But sir,” one of the counters protested, pointing at a stack of bills on a folding table in the middle of the room.
“I said leave it,” Pushnaya ordered. Anger raged in his voice. “You two, take point,” he motioned to the two nearest the door. They stood with two bags each slung over their shoulders. “Nikolai, lead them out.” Then he looked at the other two money counters. “You two follow me.”
The men nodded and hefted the bags over their shoulders. Each of the carriers was also equipped with submachine guns with their right hands looped through the duffle bag straps so they could prop the weapons near their hips.
They wouldn’t be accurate if it came to shooting their way out, but the four men—plus Nikolai—could at the very least lay down covering fire while Pushnaya made his escape.
He didn’t want to leave money on the table, but he had no choice. There was plenty already in the bags, but even then he knew that survival was paramount. He could, after all, always make more money.
Nikolai opened the door and swung out onto the landing, his AR-15 braced against his shoulder.
He swept the warehouse with a passing eye, surveying the huge open space. Through the metal grate of the catwalk, he saw two of his men positioned on either side of the door leading out into the shipping yard.
Two others lurked behind concrete barriers twenty feet inside. Behind their position, four black Range Rovers and two more moving vans sat parked in the middle of the building.
Nikolai took a glance over at the massive sliding doors across from the vehicles. They would have to reach those doors and get them open before making their escape. He just hoped the four men guarding the entrance could cover them long enough. Without knowing what kind of numbers they were up against, it was a gamble.
Moving quickly and stealthily down the steps, Nikolai kept his weapon ready, sweeping back and forth in case they were flanked.
He arrived at the second landing and held up his left fist for the men behind him to halt. The men carrying the bags stopped, as did Pushnaya as he gripped his showy Desert Eagle .45 with nervous fingers.
After listening and watching for a long breath, Nikolai pointed forward and continued down the steps.
When the group reached the ground floor, Nikolai took up a position between his charge and the open doorway and motioned for the group to head to the nearest SUV.
The first two money counters scurried around the concrete barriers where two of the gunmen still waited, watching the entrance. The men with the duffle bags opened the back door to the Range Rover and tossed the bags into the rear cargo area.
“You two, over there in that one,” Pushnaya barked at the two men behind him.
They only puzzled at the request for a second before obeying.
“As my mother once said, never put all your eggs into one basket, eh?” Pushnaya commented to Nikolai.
The bodyguard only acknowledged the statement with the briefest of nods as he kept his weapon aimed at the opening, waiting for an attack at any second.
“You two,” Pushnaya snapped again, pointing to the first two couriers who were about to climb into the front seat of the first SUV. “Open the bay doors.”
The men looked uncertainty at each other, then rushed across the floor to the enormous doors. One loosed a chain from a metal hook beside the gigantic doorframe and then joined the other who held onto a handle, pulling at the sliding door. The second man pushed, and the rusty wheels squeaked along the rails above as the hanging door rolled to the right. The door was halfway open when Pushnaya shouted for them to return to their vehicle.
The boss climbed into the passenger seat of the first vehicle with Nikolai already behind the wheel. The other two men waited in the second SUV.
The men who opened the door began running back across the floor to the convoy when a barrage of muted gunfire popped from the wide opening. Bullets struck the men in the back and dropped them to the ground in mid-stride with arms flailing as they fell prostrate.
Pushnaya slammed his door shut. “Drive!” he ordered Nikolai. Then he turned and waved at the two other men in the second SUV to take the lead.
The gunman in the passenger side leaned out the window with his submachine gun and squeezed the trigger five times to lay down covering fire. The men guarding the front door spun around at the sounds of gunfire coming from the rear. All of them exposed, they scattered like cockroaches in daylight, diving for shadows or cover.
Nikolai waited for the other Range Rover to speed up in front. The driver stepped on the gas and the SUV’s tires spun on the pavement, kicking debris out behind them. The vehicle surged forward in front of Pushnaya’s ride, hurtling toward the opening.
From the shadows behind the sliding door, Pushnaya saw a ghostly figure in black and gray merge with the darkness. The light from the warehouse barely touched the apparition.
“There!” Pushnaya shouted as Nikolai stepped on the accelerator and launched the SUV forward behind the first.
The attacker fired several shots at the oncoming lead vehicle, peppering it with bullets. Pushnaya couldn’t see through the darkly tinted back windows, but he didn’t need to in order to know what happened.
The SUV abruptly swerved right and slammed into the corner post where the sliding door ended. The gunman in the passenger seat flew into the windshield. Glass and metal crunched. Broken plastic flew through the air.
Pushnaya’s men in the warehouse opened fire, unleashing their return volley in dangerous proximity to the boss’s escape vehicle. The cover fire was enough, though, and Pushnaya didn’t see the attacker until they were through the open doorway and out into the rain.
He looked back and saw a muzzle flash multiple times. The back window shattered and Pushnaya ducked instinctively for cover. Bullets ripped through the leather seats in the back. One struck Nikolai in the shoulder, but the hardened warrior didn’t let it divert his focus. He remained concentrated on the exit as the SUV accelerated away from the warehouse.
Pushnaya, confident they were too far away from the gunman, relaxed and looked back through the missing rear window.
The attacker’s muzzle flashed once. Pushnaya heard the bullet zip through the air inches away from his face. It punctured the windshield and sent the man scrambling down in his seat.
He swallowed, momentarily relieved. Up ahead, he saw the two gate guards hurrying to open the rolling barricade. Out of the corner of his eye, Pushnaya caught movement and turned in time to see a flatbed truck rumbling toward them.
“Look out!” the boss shouted, but it was too late.
Nikolai winced against the pain radiating from his shoulder as he tried to turn the wheel sharply to avoid the oncoming truck. His effort was in vain. The driver of the flatbed guided the nose of the heavy vehicle straight at the SUV.
Pushnaya noted the two brief seconds of eerie, helpless silence that passed by in slow motion just before the flatbed truck collided with the Range Rover. The front left quarter panel of the big truck smashed into the SUV’s right side, obliterating the right front tire and caving in the hood and fender. Smoke immediately billowed from the ruptured hoses and cracked engine block as the big truck plowed ahead, flipping the SUV over onto its side.
The guards at the gate watched in rapt horror for several seconds until they managed to recover and raise their weapons.
The two men fired haplessly at the flatbed, missing the cab with nearly every shot. The driver of the truck kept the gas pedal to the floor. Sparks flashed brightly from the driver's side of the Range Rover as it scraped along the gravel and asphalt.
Pushnaya grimaced in pain, lying on top of Nikolai who screamed in pain. His left arm hung limp near the window, severed from the elbow down.
Before he could do anything to brace himself, Pushnaya saw a stack of steel shipping containers through the moon roof and knew the truck driver’s intention. He braced himself against the dashboard and yelled in terror a second before the roof of the SUV crunched into the bottom container of the stack in a crash of metal and glass.