Quote:

"You. No shoot. Ok?"

"That depends on you, bub." Then, to Peter (without turning from Igor): "We should switch up - YOU get this back-stabbing soon-to-be-ex-cop to call in Code 4, I'LL talk to the English-speakers! We don't have time to mess around here!"

Peter nods.

"Good call."

"Captain, I have to secure the site. I'll give you my partner to talk you through the rest of the briefing. Go easy on him, he's a Yank."

Peter tosses the phone to Artis, draws his revolver and aims it at Igor.

"No more games, comrade. Make that radio call now. If I hear any bad words, you're going down.

What? Wait! Hello? Hello? screams Winslow, unsure of what is happening.

(phone flies through the air)

Artis catches the phone in time for:

I'm sorry, you are where? Ok. That does not matter right now. What matters is that you do NOT, under any circumstances, open them. I also did not catch your name. Just who -are- you people? Hold on. I am moving this over to a secure channel.

The line goes quiet for a few moments, then Winslow comes back on.

Alright. You're working for Six* aren't you? Goddamn Ministry of Intelligence. I swear, you people have alot of nerve calling us on an unsecured network. Just how long were you going to wait before the crates got sold on the Black Market?

Igor is petrified at this point.

"Ok. Ok. I'll call."

(reaches for radio)

"Unit Two-Eight to Control. Code Four. Repeat. Code Four."


*MI6

"Look Captain, we weren't here for the crates. It's fortunate we followed up on some leads that led us to them, but we are falling behind on our own schedule. Could you indulge me as to why they shouldn't be opened? It impacts how we can transport them back to you, unless you'd rather have them left in a snowdrift, sir."

To Peter: "Cuff him, get his utility belt, and take the receiver off his car radio. I think we might be able to take everyone with us."

Peter goes to work on Igor.

"Down on the ground! Spread your arms and legs away from your body!"

Disposing of loose kit he finds on Igor, he keeps his eyes open for a pair of handcuffs or zip ties to immobilize the cop.

"You know, some days I really wish I'd never gotten into the business."

The materials inside are of highly sensitive and secret nature, of which I am neither privy nor authorized to explain to you. Please identify yourself. I cannot continue this conversation until I have a confirmation of your identity. If you are who I -think- you are, you will be able to provide this information.

(Inspiration Check: Sounds like Captain Winslow is stalling for time)

Igor gets on the ground and does what he's told. A search for his handcuffs reveals that the only pair he had are currently on the driver he previously arrested.

Luckily, Artis always brings a pair with him. He fishes them out for Peter while continuing with Winslow. "I'll call back with confirmation, Captain. Good day." *click*

"I think he was trying to trace us. Here's your phone back. I say we clear this mess up and check in and THEN figure out what to do with these crates. I'll get his partner." Artis goes to the back of the SMP car to move the wounded cop. "Hey smuggler guys! Little help over here!"

"Sasha" has since passed out in the snow, either from shock or blood loss. His passenger is nowhere to be found.

Quote:

Quote: from fanchergw on 11:30 am on Jan. 13, 2005
Glancing up for a moment, Jacque sees the head of an apparently Asian woman peek out of the neighboring cabin. "Uhm... Hi. Are you okay in there? You have any idea why these guys attacked you?"

Ayumi has no freaking clue of what Jacque is babbling about.

Brian leans back after the conductor leaves, leaning back and closing his eyes, apparently comfortable despite the cramped car.

"So then, what's your story? Can't say I don't appreciate your...timely intervention...just curious is all."

Peter slaps the cuffs on Igor, then pockets his phone.

"He can trace the hell out of it, we already told him where we are. You know, I'm beginning to think they don't really want those cases back. Where's the gunships? The SAS jarheads burrowing through the permafrost and jumping out from under the snow? It's like they're not even trying anymore."

"If they're that important, they would have had tracers in the crates and they would have had them back already. The passenger's AWOL, by the way, and Sasha doesn't look too good. Let's just get the hell out of here. Let's drag Igor over in the middle of the road where he can't reach anything, then help me move his partner."

(Zooming out from the highway)

-5m Resolution
-10m Resolution
-50m Resolution
-100m Resolution

Zooming all the way out to a orbital satellite above their position in Siberia. It relays visual information to a basement workstation in London.

Vauxhall Cross, London: MI6 Headquarters

"By god, that's it. Send the signal. And be sure to send our two new friends on the ground a case of champagne for when they get back to England. Leave it to Six to clear up Downing Street's mistakes."

Zoom back in to the highway scene.

*Sniff* *Sniff*

Peter knows that smell...a little too well. It's an ignition primer used in EOD operations.

Years of working with high explosives have taught Peter one thing...if it smells like *this*, it's time to get the hell out of the way.

"See some cover you like? I'm just asking because it's one heck of an opportunity to get to know it."

Artis drops what he's doing and throws himself headlong into the nearest snowdrift, in an attempt to evade whatever it about to happen. He realizes, as he enters the soft but cold Siberian fluff, that telling him to "take cover!" is actually a really easy way to pull pranks on him...

Doing their best osterich impressions, everyone runs and dives for the nearest snowdrift. Muffled by the cover, they hear several small explosions leading up to a chain-reaction of larger secondaries. The booms settle after about 10 seconds.

Digging themselves out and returning to the road, they can see the remains of the Mercedes...or what's left of it. The back half of the vehicle is now a molten wreck of slag of distorted metal. From the heat coming off it, Peter deduces it was several charges of white phosphorus that did the job.

The Lada squadcar is partially charred on one side, but appears to in one piece. Artis looks down the road to check on the rig and sees that it's right where they parked it...although he doesn't remember leaving the cabdoor open.

Seeing the look of utter incomprehension on the woman's face, Jacque tries a different tack. "Do you speak English, by any chance," he asks in fluent British-accented English.

"I've been assigned to find Agent Hummingbird and find out who kidnapped her," Moten says. "I recognize you from your file. Brian Malory, recruited from Britain's SAS. Good with a rifle, trained in clandestine field ops. I'm Robert Moten." He extends his hand to shake.

Peter gets up from the ground, wetter and dirtier than before, but definately relieved that A) there was an explosion and it didn't hurt him. Looking over to the rig, he shakes his head and turns to Art.

"Oh, for the love of...Artis, please secure the truck. I'll look through the wreckage and see if there's anything - or anyone - left to take with us."

"Help me secure the truck, then we'll drag any survivors over to it and get the hell out of here. Let's not poke through burning wreckage until we're sure we still have a ride out of here." Artis checks his AKSU and stealthily approaches the truck's side from which the door isn't open.