Chapter 3

Jonathan Stone and Melissa Dupree step off the place carrying only a bag of clothes each. Grines decided the best way for them to enter the country was the proper way: using a passport. The only trouble with doing so is that they have no weapons or supplies, but that isn’t going to stop either of them. Jonathan was a CIA agent working many missions in Russia before transferring over to the FBI and then eventually to the TDF. He has several contacts still available to him to get what they need.

It ends up taking a day or two to get in touch with those contacts, but once he does, the two agents have everything they need for infiltration into the True Solar facility, including a pair of snow mobiles. Their arsenal includes a pair of Russian made assault rifles with integrated suppressors and two pistols. Both agents are not at all sure of what to expect from either weapon, yet they have been assured that they are quality made weapons. Their travel plans include a ride in an Ilyushin Il-76 cargo plane. It will take them and the snowmobiles to Irkutsk, one of the largest cities in Siberia. Though it seems like overkill, the plane is already going there with a load and it is faster than using a cargo truck.

When the two agents land, they are greeted by two men for a meeting set up by one of Jonathan’s contacts. These two men guide the agents out of the city and set them on the path they need to take, giving them a map with their course laid out.

“It seems too easy,” Melissa remarks once they are left alone.

Jonathan gives her a coy smile. “You need to lighten up. You worry too much.”

“Of course I worry,” she says defensively. “Between the two of us, someone has to be the responsible one.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve known these people for years. They came through for us many times over.”

“If you say so...”

“I do,” he continues with a wink. He cranks up his snowmobile and yells over the roaring engine, “Try to keep up!”

Jonathan and Melissa blaze through the Siberian countryside effortlessly thanks to the snowmobiles. Their ride is going smoothly until gunfire suddenly rattles out from behind them. Both agents look back just in time to see four snowmobiles drop out the back of a CH-53 Sea Stallion. The snowmobiles are cast in white along with the riders.

They turn back to each other and Jonathan says, “You’re right. It did seem too easy.”

Melissa’s only response is to smile at him. The reverie is broke by a stream of fire that kicks up snow between the two riders. They swerve apart then come back together, continuing to weave in and out. The four chasers continue to pelt the ground and surrounding trees as they slowly and gradually gain ground.

Neither agent has the ability to fire back at their pursuers without risk of wrecking. The snow that is being kicked up blurs their vision and there are far too many trees—many huddled in masses—to cause concern. The game of cat and mouse continues for the next several hundred yards until finally one of the riders gets close enough. He slings his rifle and leaps from his snowmobile onto Melissa’s.

The woman is quick to throw an elbow into the attacker’s gut, but the effort holds no effect on him. The rider reaches up and grabs a handful of hair and yanks her head back while drawing a knife in the process. Staying calm, Melissa allows her head to go back without resisting while reaching into her jacket to grab the butt of her pistol. She pushes it toward her attacker and pulls the trigger. It takes only two shots before the rider releases her hair and falls backward off the snowmobile.

Jonathan slides in next to his partner and yells, “I have an idea!”

“Anything right about now is helpful!” she yells back.

Jonathan throws a look over his shoulder and then back at her. “Spin to the right and hop on!”

Melissa gives him a questioning look before it dawns on her what he has in mind. She does as he instructs, sliding in behind him on the seat. The sudden turn causes the snowmobile to overcompensate and twist onto its side, spinning toward the three remaining snowmobiles. Melissa wraps her legs around Jonathan’s waist and bends backward to swing around her assault rifle. She fires at the rolling and tumbling snowmobile.

Riddling the machine until the gas tank is hit. It turns into a rolling chunk of flaming metal. The two closest pursuers manage to pull off and around, avoiding the wreckage, but the third is not as fortunate and takes the full brunt force of the impact followed by the explosion of another fuel tank.

“Fuck...” Melissa murmurs under her breath. She hoped to take out two, if not all the riders. Then without a second thought, she rights herself and grips her partner’s shoulders, puling herself up until she is standing on the back of the roaring machine. She reaches into Jonathan’s jacket, pulling free his pistol.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yells over his shoulder. Most of his words are lost over the combined roar of the wind and snowmobile, but Melissa gets the gist of what he is saying.

She thinks about saying something along the lines of reassurance, but ultimately decides against the effort as it will only be lost with the wind and a complete waste of time. Instead, she pulls out her pistol and leaps off the back, into the air. Her momentum takes her sailing through the air between both riders. She opens up on both until the pistol go dry with clicks. The riders fall backward, their bodies riddles and bloody. Their machines sail into nearby tree, exploding into a roar of flames. Melissa tucks her body just before hitting the snow and she rolls to a stop, unharmed. The softened snow absorbs and distributes the force of impact, allowing no injury to befall her. She lays face up to the stars, her hot breath turning into an icy fog as she tries to calm her breathing.

Jonathan kicks the snowmobile to a sudden halt, forcing the big machine to turn and slide to a stop. He jumps off, leaving it idling and runs for his partner. “Mel!” he yells, not seeing her lying in the snow. It is not until he gets closer does he see an indentation in the thick snow and little wisps of hot breath. He is instantly filled with relief. “You are fucking crazy!” he says, sliding to her side. “You know that?”