Morhotlong, Lesotho
After
stealing a 1996 Jeep Cherokee, Spencer heads to Lesotho. The roads were clear, except the few Chinese troops that either passed on the road or were set up at various guard stations. He thought it was a little strange, but he wasn't going to stop and argue with anyone about it.
The mines weren't hard to miss either. Signs were posted identifying the owners, as well as saying keep out and no trespassing. The soldiers and tanks weren't hard to miss either.
He by passed the mines and continued for two more miles before pulling off the road and ditching the vehicle. His best approach would be by foot. If they didn't expect him, which he doubted, then it would be a wasteful trek. As prepared as
Winter
was, Spencer figured they were expecting him.
As he approaches, he sticks to the shadows and plant growth as lights flood the entire area. They're waiting for him or they just like to keep the place bright, he muses.
Like in Novosibirsk, he takes some time watching the patterns of troop movement. The movement is erratic and after thirty minutes, Spencer gives up trying to find a pattern.
Dawn is beginning to break; the element of night was fading. He decides to get moving. Avoiding the lights as much as possible, he makes his way to the compound.
The site is massive and open. With troops spread out, there are plenty of gaps for Spencer to easily slip through as he makes his way from the south.
He has no idea where to begin looking. Without Maykov's help, it presents a challenge. He slides behind a building to avoid being seen by a group of workers. Whether the workers will call out or keep silent was anyone's guess and one Spencer wants to avoid finding out.
As he hides in the shadows of the building, his thoughts go to Maykov. He had hoped that by now, if not somewhere along the way, to have met up with her. What could have happened to her? he wonders. First Sam, then Jennifer. He loved Sam and missed her dearly, but Jennifer he was unsure about. He had mixed feelings about her. There was something about her, something that definitely helped with his grief over Sam's death.
Maybe being her sister with the striking resemblance helped, he reasons. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, he refocuses his attention to the task ahead.
The sun has fully risen. The air is crisp and clear. Over the next hour, he stalks from building to building, looking for some sign of the kidnapped men. It was the two men that find him instead of the other way around.
As Spencer turns around from looking into a window, Patmore and Cooke stand with a mixture of confusion and partial relief on their faces. Spencer is just as shocked as the two men, instantly recognizing them from his initial briefing. The three stand there for a few moments before Spencer first breaks the silence.
"I'm Special Agent Reeds, I'm here to rescue you," he says, adding a bit of excitement to his voice.
Both of the men's faces brighten with hope. "Quick," Patmore says. "We need to get inside before we're noticed."
Patmore gestures to the door of the building Spencer was just looking into. As the men enter, Cooke glances around to ensure no one notices the strange situation taking place. "We were beginning to wonder if anyone would come for us," Patmore begins. "We got news of America pulling back and taking out any forces they had."
"Are you all they sent?" Cooke asks, sounding a little skeptical.
"Actually my partner was killed a few days ago," Spencer says dryly. "The other help I had has disappeared as well."
"Sorry to hear that," Patmore says.
"How do you plane to get us out of here?" Cooke asks.
"Honestly I don't know," he says. Patmore and Cooke form frowns that tell Spencer he'd better justify the latter statement. "Things over the last few days haven't gone as planned, in fact nowhere near the way they should have."
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Patmore asks.
Cooke seems to almost give up on the matter all together. He paces to the corner of the room, which is just what the building was, a large room. There are two beds, a sink and a toilet. Not much for living conditions, but enough to get by.
"I'm not sure yet. What have you been doing since you got here?" Spencer asks.
"Supervising. Placing explosives and piping. Not much more than that." Patmore says, checking off his fingers as if it were a list he was trying to remember.
Cooke shakes his head. "I don't know what use we would be to you. We're not soldiers and to be honest, Sergey is expecting you."
That caught Spencer's attention. "Sergey Stalockavich?" he asks.
"Yes. I assume you know of this man?" Patmore asks.
"Know of him? I've met the guy. We met with him to get any information he had about the situation and you. I knew there was something that didn't quite fit."
"He's not the only one involved, but he is running things here," Patmore offers.
"I assume you know the basic layout of the complex here," Spencer states.
"Know it! Hell, we've had free run since..." Cooke starts to say before trailing off.
Spencer gives a puzzled look to Patmore. Before he can inquire, Patmore explains.
"After Dahlin was taken away to be beat and watch his family killed, we all decided it be best to give our all to our tasks. I know deep down I feel ashamed and I know Cooke does too, but we didn't have a choice."
"I don't blame you; this must have been a tough situation for you all. Where are the other two, Roberts and Dahlin?" he asks.
"We are supposed to be transferred to Antarctica later this afternoon to join the others and complete our tasks there."
"Is there any kind of transmission station here?"
