Free Echo Six: Black Ops 4 - Chechen Massacre by Eric Meyer Page B

first. He just looked around at the NATO unit. Then he glanced at Barrington.
    "I am Borodin, Major. We've been observing the train schedule. The Trans-Siberian Express will not be here for another half-hour."
    Talley looked at the Russian with interest. The icon of Russia was the bear, and the Mafiyoso resembled a bear more than he did a man. He was a fully six and a half feet tall and dressed in thick furs that made him look even bigger. The Siberian style fur hat, the heavy fur coat that dropped to his ankles, everything about him was larger than life. He moved away to speak to one of his men, and then came back. He moved like a predatory animal, like a huge bear, but unlike a bear was armed with a weapon Talley hadn't seen in a long, long time. A Soviet PPSh submachine gun, the iconic weapon with the drum magazine; made during in the Second World War and carried by the Soviet shock troops who steamrollered their way across Eastern Europe all the way to Berlin.
    Similar to the Thompson submachine gun, the gun had been manufactured in the millions. The magazine carried seventy-one 7.62mm rounds and was of a crude design, almost antique by modern standards. He also carried a big automatic pistol tucked into the wide belt that nipped in the waist of his shaggy fur coat, a Stechkin, the big Russian pistol that was still in use with the Russian military. The Stechkin was a handgun capable of selective automatic fire when required. Borodin saw Talley looking at the PPSh.
    "You like? My grandfather carried it from Moscow to Berlin, between 1944 and 1945." He looked thoughtful. "He said he never knew how many Germans he'd killed, but there were plenty. If he carved a notch into the butt for every one, there'd be no wood left." He burst into laughter, but all the time his black eyes, rimed with frost, were glancing around Talley and the rest of the men, measuring, assessing. Borodin was clearly not a man to take chances, not with strangers.
    "My men tell me I should carry a new a gun, but this one has always served me well."
    "I'm sure it has, Mr. Borodin,” Barrington replied with some irritation, “but tell us about the train."
    The Russian shrugged. "They were refueling in Irkutsk." He roared with laughter: "It took longer than usual to fill up the tanks. I guess some bastard stole the fuel from the train. You can't trust anyone these days."
    Talley stepped forward. "Do you have an idea of the layout of the train, and how to stop it?"
    Before he could answer, Barrington elbowed him out of the way.
    "We've set a charge on the track to derail the train if you were delayed, but we were hoping we wouldn't need it. We'd prefer something that wouldn't alert the authorities."
    Borodin looked at Talley, amused by the obvious friction, then his eyes returned to Barrington.
    "It's all taken care of, Major. I’d be careful with planting explosives around the railroad. You'll have the FSB on you very quickly if a maintenance crew spots them. But you have nothing to worry about. I bribed the signalers, and they'll put the signal to red and stop the train right here. My men are waiting to deal with the North Korean guard force. It’s up to you to deal with the rest. To get the warheads away from these people."
    As he spoke, he gestured, and his men climbed to their feet, shaking the snow from their clothes. Ten of them were armed with RPG7 missile launchers, and a half-dozen with PK general-purpose machine guns. The Kalashnikov designed weapon fired a 7.62mm cartridge and was still in use in Russia, as well as scores of countries worldwide. The combination of missiles and machine gun fire would cut a swathe through the defenders. There was no doubt Borodin had planned well.
    "Satisfied, Major?"
    "Yeah, that looks good. I heard Commander Talley asking you about the layout of the train. What are we looking at?"
    Borodin gestured again, and a man came over to him; younger than the Mafiyoso, even though he was wearing furs, like his boss. He