Chapter 3 – The Package

“99 durkas with beards on the wall,
99 durkas with beards,
You shake one down,
Smash his face in the ground
98 durkas with beards on the wall”

Blood and MrNicola had similar methods of killing time. Their whispered singing was an almost appreciated distraction from the fact that they had been posted up for the last 24 hours with nothing but the wind to observe.

For the first time since they had arrived, Steers chimes in, albeit sarcastically, ”You know guys, the term durkas is not really PC.” MrNicola and Blood pause for a moment and Blood agrees with him. “You know Steers, I think you’re right. We’re unfairly labeling all bad guys as durkas and that would not only be politically incorrect, but socially irresponsible.”

MrNicola and Blood share a glance as Blood spits out a stream of chewing tobacco that twists in the wind on its long journey down the 9 stories onto the cracked sidewalk below. Nicola holds up a finger to Blood, then a second, and a third.

“98 durka’s with beards on the wall…”

Steers chuckled softly into the mic, “I love you guys. I don’t know how I get by without you assholes.” Steers repositions himself and grunts as the frustration of inactivity begins to become unbearable. ”Should we file this one with the weapons of mass destruction intel on Iraq…?”

Across the courtyard from the roof that MrNicola and Blood were positioned, JDFC and Vike Jr were in a slightly more comfortable location in an abandoned 9th floor hotel suite.

“Do you think this beer is still good?” Vike jr asks walking back from the apartments kitchen just inside the living room area from which they were observing the courtyard. “I don’t know.” JDFC answers, unwilling to pull away from his binoculars.“Does beer even go bad?”
“I don’t know”
“Well it was in the refrigerator, and it’s not like it isn’t 30 below out here. I don’t think I’ve ever even had a Russian beer. Obviously the vodka is great.”
“Are you fucking retarded?” asks JDFC.
Vike jr pulls his newfound treasure tightly to his chest, “Dude, we’ve been here for 24 hours. What? Is hotel management going to send us a bill for the mini-bar when we check out?”
“You’re actually going to drink that?”
“Why not?”
“You’re going to shit your parka if you drink that.”

Vike jr fell silent as he started to pull on the can’s opener. As the can began to fizzle from the releasing of carbon dioxide, he stared at the slowly collecting foam at the ridge of the can and reconsidered his decision to drink the beer. “You suck.” Vike jr dejectedly lets out as he throws the can over his shoulder towards the kitchen. JDFC pulls away his binoculars and measures Vike jr’s look of disappointment.

“Why? Because I just saved you from having the runs at the Popov Hotel? I just did you a favor.”
Almost as the words escaped JDFC’s mouth, Vike jr’s look of disappointment was replaced with the look of joy and a grin grew from ear to ear. JDFC wondered if Vike jr really had just so suddenly become appreciative of the advice he had given.
“What?” JDFC asks suspiciously.
“Popov” Vike jr let out as he steps back towards the kitchen, “I bet there’s vodka in here somewhere.”

Just then, JDFC spotted a reflection from the roof of the building across the courtyard. JDFC switches his com device back on, “Blood, MrNicola, I just caught a reflection from your position. Put the Sniper away, and use your nocs instead. Remember, we’re only here to observe.”

MrNicola pulls his Barrett back from the blanket he had laid out on the roof “10-4, I just wanted to have floor seats for showtime.” Blood turns his head and looks at Nicola who sets his Barrett down next to his M1014.

“A little Overkill don’t you think?” Blood says taking a sip from his flask.
Nicola grins at Blood as he pulls out his binoculars from the cargo pocket on the right side of his pants. “You never know.”

Upon arrival to their location, it had been decided that Bravo team was going to have to split into two’s as well. JimmyJay and Steers would take a position overlooking the pool side of the abandoned gym from an abandoned apartment complex looking directly into the facility. Raven and St. Jude would be in the most vulnerable position of the 4 tandems, on the second floor of the front side of the gym, looking down into the lobby.

“Inbound from the Northeast.” Steers declared as he adjusted the focus on his anti reflective binoculars.
“3 cars, about 2 clicks away.”

MrNicola quickly crawled from the North side of the roof to face the South. “Inbound from the South, 4 cars, 3 clicks.”

With news of the arrival of the featured guest’s, JDFC called out last minute instructions, “Remember gentlemen, we are here to observe, Vike jr , get on the boom and get every word they say. Raven, if they come down from the Northeast and are anywhere near your location, I don’t want you translating. You’re in a bad spot for that. Keep it quiet now guys.”

The team went still as they took their final positions to observe the anticipated meeting between Zakhaev and Kruschev. Kruschev and his men were the first to arrive and pulled into the rear parking lot of the abandoned gym. As a precaution, 2 of the 3 cars unloaded and  Kruschev’s men spread to survey the surrounding buildings. 6 men entered the walkway directly in front of the gym and spread out onto the 3 nearest outdoor apartment staircases.

St. Jude and Raven, prone on the second floor of the gym lobby glanced through some cracked and broken dry wall as 2 of the men elevated the staircase directly across the walkway from them. They stopped and turned their attention to the South, where Zakhaev’s motorcade was now becoming visible.

“Raven, you have two entering the pool side of your building. They looked into the pool and are now heading your way.” Knowing he was well out of earshot, Steers alerted Raven and Jude to prepare for some visitors.

Since there were two men already eye level with their position on the second story rail across the walkway, Raven signaled for Jude to stay put. He quietly repositioned himself to face the doorway at their rear where the two men would enter their location. Footsteps could be heard as the men ascended the spiral steps to the hallway that would lead them to the doorway.

Raven could almost hear Jude’s heart begin to gain speed as the men stepped from the stairway onto the hallway. With a quick twist, Raven ensured that the silencer was securely tightened onto his USP .45. Reaching into his vest, he also pulled out his field knife and quickly elevated himself into a crouched position. He shifted his weight and leaned his back to the wall six inches from the doorway. With the butt of his knife resting on the right side of his chest he raised his right arm and locked it into the height of the average man’s eye level position, Raven slowed his breathing and waited for his moment.

Victor Zakhaev entered the courtyard with his men behind him as if unafraid of what Kruschev  was capable of. Victor had no reason to take precautions. His father was Imran Zakhaev, Kruschev was lucky to even do business with them.

“Vladimir! Get your monkeys out of their trees!” Vic yelled out as if he and Vladimir were old friends. Kruschev had exited his car and was being escorted by the three men who had rode in with him. “You act as if you don’t trust a Zakhaev!” he added, stopping in front of the bronze statue in the center of the courtyard. Kruschev whispered into the direction of the bodyguard next to him, who nodded and signaled for his men to come down from the staircases. He wanted to keep the tension from building with the son of his weapons supplier. He had no interest in testing Vic’s patience or trust.

“Forgive me Victor” Kruschev announced as he walked briskly towards Victor with outstretched arms, “I wanted to be sure it was really you before I allowed myself to be known.” Kruschev’s nearest bodyguard grabbed his collar and spoke into it.

Raven could feel the tension ease as the men stopped three feet from the doorway, confirmed the instructions they had just received from their com device, and walked back down the stairs and onto the walkway. He quickly placed his knife back in its holster and returned to his prone position next to St. Jude.

JDFC flipped on his com device and asked Raven what it was they were saying. Vike jr repositioned the boom gun so that more of their conversation could be heard clearly.  “Zakhaev is asking Kruschev to make the wire transfer? And Kruschev is saying he wants to see him first?”

JDFC turns his binoculars back towards the South where another vehicle pulls in and parks near Zakhaev’s motorcade. Kruschev’s attention quickly focused on the new arrival. Two men exit the front seats of the Mercedes and open the left side rear door. They grab a man dressed in similar attire whose arms are bound behind him and is wearing a ski mask. It is obvious even from the distance they are observing that the man has been severely beaten and is just barely able to move his legs as they drag him towards the center of the courtyard.

Kruschev looks at the masked man and turns towards Victor. “You are sure he is American?”
Victor grins and jokes, “Well he was, we may have beaten that stain out of him by now. Now make the call”“Let me see his face.” Kruschev replied.

Zakhaev impatiently paced over to the prisoner who was now held in front of Kruschev and forcefully pulled the mask off of the man’s badly bruised and bleeding face. JDFC twisted the focus on his binoculars and spoke a single word that reverberated through the entire team’s earpieces.

“Hartsfield.”