Free RECCE II (The Union Series Book 5) by Phillip Richards

sorry mound of victims.
    ‘Tell me none of our lads are in that?’ Myers
pleaded, having finished his scan of the live prisoners.
    ‘No,’ I said.
    He sighed, sharing my relief.
    I swept my gaze around the chamber, searching for
any sign of a familiar uniform. ‘What about this lot?’
    ‘Doesn’t look like the boss is here,’ Weatherall
replied.
    ‘Check them,’ I ordered. ‘Lift their hoods and have
a look, just in case they’ve had a change of clothes.’
    We had to be thorough in our search for our
comrades. For all we knew, the rogue Guardsmen might have stripped them of
their uniform so that they could smuggle them out of the warren.
    Myers hesitated. ‘Do you want us to release the ones
we check?’
    I considered the question. ‘No. Not if we don’t
recognise them. Some could be captured Militia for all we know. We’ll let the
FEA deal with them when they’re ready.’
    ‘Roger.’
    As I looked across the row of prisoners, I noticed
that one of them was wearing a bloodstained blue jumpsuit. My heart jumped as I
recognised the outfit, and I walked across the chamber and snatched the hood
from the prisoner’s head.
    ‘Fancy seeing you here,’ I said, staring down at a
familiar face.
    Yulia blinked up at me, startled, until she realised
it was me. The corners of her mouth twitched in a brief flash of relief before
hardening back into the expressionless mask I was used to.
    ‘You have come back for your friends,’ she said
cynically.
    ‘And you,’ I added. I crouched behind her, removing
my bayonet from my rifle and using it to saw through the plastic cuffs binding
her wrists. They were the same cuffs my comrades had used to restrain her after
our chase through the tunnels, I noticed.
    Yulia rubbed her wrists once I had removed the
cuffs. ‘You want the missiles.’
    ‘Yeah,’ I answered honestly. ‘A company of Union
troopers are on the surface. I told their OC you knew where they were–’
    A long, agonised scream filled the chamber, stopping
me mid-sentence. Somewhere within the captured headquarters the torture of
Captain Mori and his men had begun. I couldn’t imagine what awful pain the FEA
would inflict upon them in order to extract the information they needed. They
were determined to restore communications to the warren, and would do whatever
was necessary to find out how. If they couldn’t work out how to fix the warren
network, then the rogue Guardsmen would probably die horrifically disfigured.
    I looked back down at Yulia. ‘ Do you know
where the missiles are?’
    She regarded me for a moment, as if deciding whether
I could be trusted. ‘Yes.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘I was based in this warren,’ she explained, ‘before
the Loyalists invaded. The missiles were hidden so Union spies could not find
them. Only some of us knew where they were.’
    ‘Can you take us to them?’
    ‘Yes. But I think that we may be too late. The
missiles are probably already being moved.’
    I flicked my head toward the pile of bodies. ‘Did
some of these talk?’
    Yulia followed my eyes, then shook her head. ‘I
don’t know. I heard them being dragged in, but they were already dead, I think.
Bhasin already knew where the missiles were, but he needed to know how to get
them out of the warren.’
    It took a couple of seconds for the familiar name to
sink in. My eyebrows raised in surprise as I remembered the shady man who had helped
to orchestrate the massacre at Dakar. He had sent his own son to kill me and my
men - a son who I had killed instead. ‘Bhasin?’
    She nodded slowly. ‘Yes. Bhasin.’

 

    4
    Tactical Questioning
     
    To contents
page
     
    It was hard to think straight whilst listening to
the constant shrieking of Captain Mori and the other unfortunate rogue Guard
survivors. Nobody dared to venture near to the small storage chamber from which
their tormented screams emanated. Instead every trooper remained rooted to the
spot, unsure how to respond. God only knew what the FEA were doing