Rainbow Six: November Sun

61: "THE EXCHANGE"

TWO DAYS LATER - SEPTEMBER 13, 2019
FOUR MILES NORTH OF KHABAROVSK, RUSSIA

The road was rocky, and Matvei was jolted about in his seat as Boris guided the car down a winding country road. The weather was beautiful. The sky was a deep blue-charcoal, painted with grey clouds. Wind swept the tall green grass on the rolling hills around them.

Matvei was nervous. They were minutes away from the rendezvous point with Khatri, their contact from India. If all went well, Khatri would honor their prior agreement, and Matvei would find himself in possession of sufficient materials to engineer a live nuclear bomb.

He planned to unleash it in the center of Moscow, at the Kremlin. Those bastards that had green-lit the deaths of so many innocents at Beslan would finally pay.

"You good?" asked Boris, the steering wheel bumping in his hand.

"Da. You?"

"Yeah." Boris cocked his head slightly. "Maybe. I'll be better when this is all over."

They passed an old farmhouse that was green with mossy overgrowth. The dirt road thinned, and Boris had to swerve back and forth to carefully avoid massive potholes and rocks.

"Fuck," Matvei muttered as they hit a hole and were jarred in their seats. "Even if the exchange goes well, we'll have to hope this fucking road doesn't kill our car on the way back."

Another turn around a hill brought the men to the end of the old dirt road, where another forgotten farmhouse sat in a thicket of trees and foliage. Two trucks and an SUV were already parked in an unkempt gravel lot outside.

There were armed men outside their vehicles, and they turned to face Matvei and Boris cautiously as they approached.

"I count eight. Nine. Automatic weapons." Matvei sighed. "If this is the end for us - I appreciate everything, Boris."

Boris slowed to a stop. "Of course, brother." He held out his hand, and Matvei shook it solemnly.

A large man in a bulletproof vest over a tank top stepped to the front of the gunmen up ahead. "Engine off," he called.

Boris gritted his teeth as he turned the key in the ignition. Matvei watched the frontman through the windshield as he beckoned them out of the car. Four of his companions leveled their rifles at the men.

"Easy, now," Matvei called through the open passenger-side window. "We're unarmed." He slowly poked both hands outside of the car.

"Step out slowly. No sudden movements, or you will be shot."

Matvei and Boris obeyed. They stood outside their doors with their arms up. "Where is Khatri?" Matvei asked.

"I am Khatri." The huge man idled the barrel of his Kalshnikov at Matvei's chest. "If you did not bring the money, like your comrades before you, it will be a very, very sad day for you both."

"It's in the trunk," Matvei answered. "We—"

An explosion ripped through Khatri and his men with such force that the blast lifted Matvei and Boris off their feet and sent them reeling backwards.

The heat was astonishing. Matvei shielded his face after skidding across the dirt. His head hurt. His ears rang. He blinked and tried to sit up.

Boris was nearby, pushing himself up from the ground. Blood trickled down his face.

Matvei stood shakily. He cupped his hands around his ears and stared in shock at the carnage ahead of them.

The three vehicles had been blasted into the air. They were strewn about the thicket, reduced to heaps of metal that burned relentlessly. He could see charred bodies inside the nearest vehicle, the SUV; and a bloodied arm was lodged up in the front wheel well, the skin melted to what remained of a tire.

Khatri was a bloody mess. His mangled body, like his dead comrades, burned where it lay - a glaring testament to a fiery end.

"The fuck." Matvei blinked again. He turned to check on Boris. His eyes widened.

Boris was aiming a handgun at his chest.

Matvei's forehead furrowed in disbelief. "Boris?"

The shot was loud. Matvei winced as the bullet tore through his chest. He dropped to his knees, utterly stunned.

Boris stepped forward. "I'm sorry, Matvei," he whispered. He aimed at the man's face.

He never pulled the trigger.

Matvei, gasping for breath, saw the side of Boris's head explode outward before he actually heard the shot.

His treasonous comrade collapsed lifelessly to the dirt. Matvei could see his skull exposed, and bits of brain matted his bloody jacket.

Spasms of pain shot through Matvei's body, and he groaned in agony before falling face-first to the ground. He didn't really feel the impact of his face on the rocks and dirt. His chest screamed for relief. His lungs struggled to take in air. Frantic confusion fogged his thoughts.

Matvei rolled over onto his back. A breeze parted nearby leaves and passed through the thicket. The sounds of the crackling fires around him plummeted Matvei back into Beslan.

His sister was there. Yegor. Boris. Valeriya. Petr. Yevgeni. Alexei. Mr. Ivanov, his favorite teacher. They were all waving to him from the flames... just standing there, burning.

His sister was calling to him now. Yegor was crying, holding Marat, their dying friend in his arms.

Matvei tried to fight the tears, but they streamed down his cheeks without his permission. "I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching with one hand. "Forgive me. Please, forgive me."

Numerous footsteps neared him, jarring him back to the present, and Matvei looked up to see the beautiful grey skies blocked out by men dressed in black combat fatigues and body armor. Their faces were hidden by balaclavas. He saw the Russian flags on their shoulders, and the accompanying FSB patches.

"Matvei Federov?" one of the looming men asked.

Matvei managed to grin as he let out a final exhale. "Da." He gasped for another breath. "Just do it. I'm ready."

The last thing Matvei Federov saw was the muzzle of a Spetsnaz-grade AK-74.