Shawcross adjusted the lenses, gently shook his head and smiled. “That, Arnie, is a goddamned mounted machine gun.”
“Jesus, don`t like them odds. What have you got there, Jackson, a couple of hand guns?”
“Yeah, good for nailing two or three of them at close range, but against eight that`s no comfort.”
“Then let`s roll up nice and slow, there`s no moon and dawn`s only just coming up. Should get pretty close before they start getting edgy. Then I`ll gun the shit out of this thing and go full tilt for that gap, with you giving them everything you`ve got. You good with that?”
“No choice, Arnie. Always take it to the enemy when in a jam, a rule soldiers live by. So let`s get it on, take it to these sons of bitches.”
Both men could feel their adrenaline surge as the S.U.V. got to the point where the waiting gunmen became alert to their approach. Arnie`s nerves were screaming, and now he had a moment of realisation. Hitting the brakes suddenly the S.U.V. came to an abrupt halt, Shawcross thrown forward and cursing. “What the fuck, Arnie?”
“Out Carmen, out!” Arnie yelled. He knew her fate would be cruel and that she might be killed anyway, but it wasn`t for him to decide. “Out, Carmen, get the hell out!”
Before Carmen could open the door, Shawcross turned in his seat. “No! Gun it Arnie, get as close to the road block as you can, then brake and cut away to your right, head for that small hill over there. Move it, Arnie, just do it!”
Arnie tried to think, figure out what was going on, but another shouted instruction from Shawcross had him responding instinctively and gunning the SUV.
In the distance, Shawcross had seen the faint outline, one he knew well from missions in Iraq. It was something that had stranded Marines reconnecting with God, their prayers answered. As he watched the helicopter come in against the prevailing wind he couldn`t be sure if it was the enemy or the cavalry. But instinct told him it was the good guys.
Arnie was now staring through the windshield and could see the Hondurans begin to organise, taking up position, scurrying behind the trucks, one man jumping on the flat-bed and manning the machine gun.
The S.U.V. was doing eighty, bouncing them around as it hit mound after mound, and now the rifle shots started. Two hit the windshield as a bunch more tore into the bodywork, the machine gunner waiting for closer range.
Like a crazed lunatic, Shawcross pushed himself halfway out of the S.U.V. window and screamed at his targets while unloading both hand guns. He hadn`t hit any of the Hondurans and once again screamed at Arnie. “Now, Arnie, hard right, towards that hill!”
Violently swinging away from the roadblock, offside wheels lifting from the ground, Arnie sent the S.U.V. over the rough terrain, thundering its way towards the hill. And now the Honduran`s machine gun opened up, punching rows of holes in the bodywork, several bullets smashing the windshield as Arnie and Shawcross ducked down.
Carmen was now on the back floor, her screams primal in intensity as she cowered in a quivering heap, splinters of glass showering down on her from the shredded windows.
Controlling the S.U.V was now a struggle as it snaked and weaved in defiance of the incoming machine-gun fire, Arnie trying not to jump on the brakes and make things worse.
“Son-of-a- bitch!” Shawcross yelled out, as a round ripped into his shoulder.
“How bad?” Arnie shouted.
“Went straight through, so I`ll survive. Sounds insane but this is a rush, takes me back to the glory days of a full-on fire-fight.”
Arnie threw him a look of disbelief. “You`re right, that is insane, and what the hell am I supposed to do now. They`ll be on my ass in seconds.”
“Like I said, head for that hill over there.”
Arnie still couldn`t figure it and the smile breaking on Jackson`s face didn`t help. “The hell`s going on, Jackson?”
Shawcross had once again taken the miniature binoculars from his belt and trained them on a position off to his left. “Coming over that hill, Arnie, see it? A bird, an American bird, reckon that`s Greenmire`s boys. Lettering`s covered up, guys all blacked out, got to be Special Forces.”
Arnie remembered that one thing military guys hated was civilians using the word “bird” to describe a helicopter. “A chopper, you sure it`s ours?”
Shawcross wasn`t listening, knowing that he wasn`t the only one to spot the incoming helicopter that was now ducking down beyond the hill, both Honduran trucks racing in that direction. It was a move that brought a swift reaction from the pilot, who reared up his machine from its protected position, swept towards the advancing trucks and laid down a blanket of covering fire that deliberately missed its target. As a deterrent it had worked, the Honduran trucks swerving away. But only for a few moments, as they soon turned back, machine gun blasting away once more.
With the helicopter circling, dodging and weaving the incoming fire, Shawcross had to guess the next put-down spot. Pointing to an area further to their right he yelled at Arnie. “Over there, other end of the hill, it`s the best chance for the chopper!”
Shawcross turned in his seat and checked on Carmen, who was still huddled on the floor, her crying hysterical. “Stay down!” he shouted. “We`ll get you out of here.”
The Honduran trucks were now racing in a new direction, the machine gun silent but not for long as the distance closed and their targets came back into range. Several hundred yards away the S.U.V. was approaching the helicopter landing spot by coming in from the other side of the hill, Arnie struggling to keep control as the humps and bumps bounced the vehicle off the rock strewn ground.
Having landed, the pilot knew his machine was now a sitting duck. He let out a yell at the Marines in the back. “Fuck this! Two of you get to the top of that hill, lay it on those sons of bitches, buy me some time!”
Still gunning the S.U.V. to its limit, Arnie approached the helicopter on its far side, skidded then screeched to a halt, stones and dust spitting everywhere. Shawcross already had the door open, his body halfway out. Hitting the ground before the vehicle stopped, he reached for the back door, wrenched it open, dragged Carmen out and threw her over his shoulder before racing to the chopper.
With the machine now hovering a few feet off the ground, rotor blades whopping and creating a dust cloud, Shawcross took a lunge forward, threw Carmen onto its floor and scrambled in. To his right, the machine gunner reached out a helping hand to Arnie who was now halfway off his feet as the strong arm dragged him in.
The two Marines on the hill were now scampering their way down, bullets from the Hondurans whizzing past them, one finding its target and sending the lead man crashing to the ground. “Shoulder wound!” shouted the other as he dragged the man back to his feet. As they ran towards the helicopter, which was now six feet in the air and swaying back and forth, the door gunner heard an instruction being shouted at him by the pilot.
“Tell these guys to move it. I need this bird in the air, fast!”
“Go,go,go!” the door gunner shouted back as he helped haul the last Marine aboard.
As the helicopter reared upwards, it`s rotors gradually picked up speed as the engines strained to gain height. This was its most vulnerable position, a substantial target, lumbering away in a torrent of gunfire from the ground, only one lucky hit needed to bring it crashing down.
Suddenly swinging his bird around then heading straight for the Honduran trucks, the pilot shouted an instruction to the door gunner. “We`re not going to make it under that kind of fire, so tear these motherfuckers up sergeant, everything you`ve got, that`s an order!”
As Honduran bullets ripped into the fuselage, several penetrating the cockpit windshield, the gunner opened up, raking both trucks with heavy duty rounds that pounded their target, the fuel tank on one immediately exploding, the other truck several seconds later.
“Enemy down!” the gunner yelled back to the cockpit
as the pilot banked away.
“Goddamned pleased to hear it, sergeant. Now let`s get the hell out of here before they put the Honduran Air Force on our ass.”
Hugging Carmen close, Shawcross threw a look at Arnie whose expression was indicating a sense of shock. Both knew they`d dodged a literal bullet and that a certain Major Greenmire was owed a big heap of thanks. What the fall-out would be was another matter, but they knew that Greenmire would take it full on and that under the circumstances a fix would be put in one way or another, the Hondurans placated or diplomatically told to go to hell. Shawcross, from his own experience, knew the U.S. military didn`t just protect American citizens, it always protected its own.
CHAPTER 17
The room was hot, almost airless in the oppressive heat of a typical Honduran day. A bluish haze highlighted by shafts of sunlight permeated the room as did a lingering smell of cigar smoke that soon hit the nostrils of the two visitors. The hostility in the air was tangible, all of it emanating from a uniformed man sitting behind a desk at the far end of the room, who looked up, dabbed his brow and cast a cold glance at his invited guests. Less invited, more commanded, and with a hint of contempt in the way he waved his hand at them, an invitation to sit was given.
“A little uncomfortable for you, my American friends, a little warm today?” the Honduran Vice President said.
“Not so much the warmth,” the U.S. Ambassador replied as he took his chair, “more the humidity.”
The Vice President now set his eyes on Major Greenmire and flashed a fake smile. “So, we have a representative of the military joining us. Just as I demanded.”
Greenmire had been warned to expect an unfriendly reception, contempt to be shown, and already he had a feel for how things were going to develop. Provocation would be coming, of that he was sure. But he knew that when on Honduran sovereign territory, restraint was required. “Glad to be of assistance, Mr. Vice President,” was all Greenmire said.
Pushing forward in his chair, the Honduran wasted no time, his opening salvo delivered in a loud and assertive tone. “The sovereignty of this nation is sacrosanct, and your military operating beyond the perimeters of their base is totally unacceptable. Do you understand, Mr. Ambassador? Do you understand the seriousness of such behaviour, the disrespect it shows our President and the people of this country?”
As a seasoned political operator who had an air of effortless superiority, the U.S. Ambassador responded with his slow southern drawl, in marked contrast to the Honduran`s authoritarian manner. “The seriousness I agree with, the disrespect I do not. Under the circumstances my government had little choice but to intervene.”
“Your government had no justification at all, none. It was close to an act of war, a deliberate attack on Honduran citizens and it will not be tolerated!”
With such an aggressive start, the moment remained delicately poised as no response came from the Ambassador, the Vice President now turning to Greenmire. “My government demands that you, Major, must offer a formal written apology. Along with that we demand notification from your State Department that no such breach will ever happen again. Do I make myself clear?”
The Ambassador sat quietly and put a restraining hand on Greenmire`s arm then smiled at the Vice President. “I have brought the Major with me to show how seriously we take this unfortunate incident, but must underline the point that this matter is a diplomatic one, not a military one.”
“Unfortunate incident! You mean planned incident, carried out in the full knowledge that armed conflict would arise. Are you denying that, Mr. Ambassador?”
“An understandable reading of the circumstances, Mr. Vice President, but I can assure you that no conflict was anticipated, merely a search and rescue mission, launched to protect United States citizens.”
The Honduran laughed. “Such impertinence, such an insult to my intelligence, a fool would not accept such an explanation.”
“As I`m sure your Excellency will appreciate, diplomatic responses are determined at a higher level than my humble position commands. I can assure you that my government takes your concerns seriously, and as I have already pointed out, it`s why I have brought a representative of the military to confirm that.”
“Fine words that as usual ring hollow, Mr. Ambassador, a habit of imperial powers who believe that to patronise is to appease. Contemptible. I will not stand for it!”
The Ambassador kept his voice low. “May I remind your Excellency that the lives of two U.S. citizens were at risk as was one of your own citizens, and that our military engagement was of the utmost necessity in such a situation.”
The Vice President was having none of it. “Again you insult my intelligence! The Honduran girl was none of your concern as well you know, and opening fire on my men was a violation of international law. But such laws are not for the great United States of America, not when they conflict with your aims.”
Greenmire`s intervention was louder than he intended. “That a Honduran national was involved we did not know about at the time. And anyway, it was of no significance. She was being shot at for crying out loud.”
The Vice President banged his fist on the desk. “If this was a humanitarian rescue mission then it was because your clandestine infiltration of our sovereign territory went badly wrong, an outrageous violation which resulted in the killing of Honduran nationals.”
With his jaw tightening, the Major struggled to speak quietly. “I can assure you that my men only fired in defense of their lives and in response to your men opening up on the rescue helicopter.”
With a dismissive wave of his hand, the Honduran raised his voice further. “A pathetic response! The nation of Honduras insists on the immediate return of its citizen, snatched by your men in an openly militaristic act and against her will. I demand the girl be returned immediately!”
“Not going to happen!” Greenmire shot back.
“What the Major means,” said the U.S. Ambassador, “is that return of the girl is in the power of the State Department. And also, it is my understanding that the girl has no wish to return. Repatriation would therefore be a breach of her human rights.”
Under a strained silence, the Vice President shifted uneasily in his chair. “That is unacceptable, Mr. Ambassador. This is a matter for the Honduran government not the United States. I want your word that my country`s demands will be met.”
The Ambassador was now running out of patience, the situation testing his restraint. “That, sir, will not be forthcoming.”
Now the Honduran`s anger was on full display as his face reddened. Switching his attention from the Ambassador, he stared out Greenmire, who was staring back with equal intensity. “Your military base, Major is here at the discretion of my government, and as you well know it is a privilege granted on the basis of an international legal agreement which you have disgracefully dishonoured. So I repeat, my government demands a full, written apology by your State Department and a formal guarantee from your military Chiefs of Staff that no such breach of our sovereignty will ever happen again.”
Greenmire came right back, all restraint gone. “There you go again, Mr. Vice President, using that word demand, as if its use, all by itself, will achieve your aims. The Honduran government can demand all it likes of the U.S. military, but to save yourselves a considerable waste of time and energy you need to understand the simple fact that we have not the slightest intention of bowing to it. Our primary responsibility is the safety and protection of U.S. citizens and that trumps the sensitivities of your government, every time.”
The Vice President looked as if he might go for his holstered gun, which was strapped on outside his uniform, such an impulsive act not unheard of in these parts. He turned away from Greenmire. “Then I am instructing you, Mr. Ambassador, to overrule such disrespectful remarks by Major Greenmire, and have your Defense Department reprimand him not just for th
e unlawful intrusion into Honduran sovereign territory but for his contemptuous response. And this from a man whose rank is of considerable insignificance in a matter of such importance.”
The Ambassador sat still, unmoved by the Honduran`s aggression, his tactic that of reverting to the long silence before responding. “That will not be happening, Mr. Vice President. Major Greenmire has expressed the opinion of not just his military superiors but that of the State Department. May I remind you that two American citizens were being hunted and threatened with death by people I am sure you are aware of, and that the situation required justifiable intervention. Perhaps your outrage would be better targeted at those responsible for creating such circumstances. But of course that would involve addressing the endemic corruption that haunts every corner of every one of your government departments.”
The Vice President puffed out his chest and reddened once more. “You dare call us a nation of corruption, the thing for which you hold us most in contempt? What hypocrisy! The difference between your country and mine with regards to corruption is only a matter of sophistication. Ours in plain view, yours hidden. Your elites have the wealth and power to manipulate everything without being seen, and this in a country that preaches to the world about integrity.”
Greenmire`s expression was now growing darker as he pushed himself forward, his threatening posture causing the Vice-President to pull back. “Any act of aggression was strictly on your side, Mr. Vice President. The attempted capture of law abiding U.S. citizens by your thugs ceases to be a Honduran affair and becomes an American one, and that makes it my responsibility, the protection of U.S. citizens no matter which country they`re in.”
“You mean protection of your assets,” the Honduran responded vehemently, “one of which is that science lab your Marines surround, a place that your own media accuses of military experiments that have obviously gone seriously wrong. Where is your high and mighty morality when it comes to that kind of conduct?”
The Cygnus Agenda Page 14
