EndWar

Those Russian drivers didn’t realize that the mines were communicating with each other and literally hopping into alternate positions to repair the first two breaches and keep the enemy within the kill zone, no matter how far they drifted off. Each mine was capable of two-sided mobility and able to maneuver up to ten meters with each hop. They were all being carefully monitored by one of the weapons sergeants on Vatz’s team, who sat in the back of a pickup truck parked below, reading data on the computer.

If the enemy managed to jam the signals between each mine, the system would enter autonomous response mode and maintain minefield integrity for several more hours.

Either way, the Russians had stumbled upon a convoy’s worst nightmare: a self-healing minefield that could only be breached by a continuous number of suicide runs and the unloading of a significant cache of ordnance.

ODA 888 and their crew of Canadians could never wipe out an entire Spetsnaz battalion. Not this gentle few. But they sure as hell would delay them.

“Now we’ve really stirred up the hornet’s nest,” said Beethoven.

“Yeah, that’s the scary part.” Vatz keyed his mike. “This is Bali, everybody get ready to move.”

A series of explosions rose on both sides of the obstacle, as all of the BMPs that had moved in began rolling backward, away from the fields to fire their main guns into the ground.

Showers of rock, snow, and dirt whipped into clouds that began to blanket the entire area, the rounds themselves bursting into brilliant fireballs that flashed like heat lightning within the clouds.

Vatz sniffed and crinkled his nose over all that ordnance going off, a smell that reminded him of Moscow.

There were fifty mines on either side of the cars, and it would take those Russians a while to detonate them all, so long as the mines kept shifting to repair breaches.

Meanwhile, the entire battalion would come to a halt. While they were most likely prepared to engage in conventional minefield breaching operations by using mine plows and MICLICs (mine clearing line charges) attached to long ropes and fired over the minefield to create a breaching lane, these measures were ineffective against the team’s high-tech surprise.

The Spetsnaz officers riding out there had to be mighty upset. Vatz smiled as he imagined them growing flush and cursing at their subordinates.

“All right, this is it. Time to fall back to our secondary position,” he told his men. “Move out!”

“Your NEST team in Edmonton has narrowed their search to the legislature building,” said General Amadou de Bankolé. “But my Enforcers Corps commanders tell me that another Spetsnaz battalion is heading up from Red Deer — and they will roll directly into the downtown area.”

“I understand, General,” said Becerra. “And let me emphasize that we truly appreciate all of the assistance the European Federation has provided to us in Edmonton.”

“You can thank us, Mr. President. But it’s not enough. My troops dropped in light. They’ve engaged the Spetsnaz in the city, but at least a company-size force remains in and around that legislature building. My troops are facing heavy sniper fire. Our first attempt to secure the building has already failed. Furthermore, if that battalion from Red Deer reaches the downtown area, my troops on the ground — and your NEST team — won’t have a chance. They need more time, and I don’t have enough assets in place.”

“General, you may not like me, but I’ve admired you. I read one of your articles on Hannibal Barca, and I’m well aware of your reputation as a strategist. You’re not telling me you can’t do it, are you?”

He snorted. “Of course not.”

“Then what is it you have in mind?”

Sergeant Raymond McAllen was muttering a string of epithets as he and Major Stephanie Halverson charged through the forest, working directly between Rule and Gutierrez, who were laying down fire to cover them.

He wasn’t swearing over the fact that the Russians had landed and had ambushed them. He just couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten about Pravota. Now they’d lost their prized POW, who was probably running off to rejoin his comrades.

They hit the snow and dropped down behind Rule and Gutierrez, and then — to McAllen’s utter astonishment — the Russian pilot came shambling toward them, still gagged and cuffed.

“Captain? What the hell?” cried McAllen over all the gunfire.

“He wants to come,” said Halverson.

McAllen untied the Russian’s gag. Pravota coughed then asked, “Why are you sitting. We must escape.”

“Are you kidding me?” asked Halverson.

Pravota shook his head. “I changed my mind.” He faced McAllen. “I want vacation, like you said.”

McAllen smiled. “Me, too.”

Friskis came running up behind them, hit the snow. “Contact from the helo. They’re only five minutes out now. I can already hear them.”

“All right, get back there. You guys cover Khaki while he guides in our bird. We’ll hold them here. Pravota? You go with him.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” said the Russian.

As they ran off, Halverson turned to McAllen. “You got a new friend.”