The adrenalin of the fight wore off. Dude, my legs were sore.
The rumble of helicopters filled the distance from down the mountain.
Must be friends or allies. Right?
* * *
Once Raven saw the other women were past the perimeter jungle guards, she instructed them to just keep going downhill until they reached the sea.
Sent them ahead without her to find rescue. Gave them the name and phone number Sam provided to reach help. Told them she'd catch up later.
She owed Sam that much. He shouldn't have to face the enemy alone, and she carried the other rifle. Knew how to use it.
Wouldn't mind using it on that fascist Omar.
Besides, she'd be careful.
So she snuck back through the jungle. Uphill. Exhausting, despite her fitness.
Didn't get lost. Avoided the guards in the darkness. Found the trail again.
High on adrenaline.
She snuck up the trail. Stayed by the edge. Flitted between the shadows of the trees.
Reached the edge of the pool. Heard the splash of the waterfall. Watched the current it created in the water.
Footsteps on the path ahead. Low male voices. Then two large shapes. Men, carrying some kind of long tubes?
She raised her weapon. Couldn't miss from here, but didn't want to kill someone she couldn't be sure was an enemy.
So she waited for them to get closer. They'd have to step out from the shadows as they approached, clear of the trees.
The top of the mountain exploded. Briefly blinded her. Illuminated her for them.
She threw up her hands instinctively. Blocked out the light.
Blinked her eyes to clear them.
Omar reached her first. Clubbed her rifle away with the metal tube he carried.
Pahk arrived next. Dropped his load. Grabbed her arms.
Omar ripped her rifle away. "So, I've found you again, my Songbird. What are you doing out here? Where are the others?"
Pahk slapped her. "Did you release my prisoner? Is that him on top of the mountain?"
Raven cringed away from them. Sat down. Refused to cry.
No tears. Not for Omar.
What an idiot she'd been to return! At least the other women would escape.
Omar glared at Pahk. "Don't dare to strike my woman. I will discipline her."
Pahk puffed out his chest. Slurred his words. "See that you do. She's almost cost us everything!"
One of Omar's men stepped onto the trail from the jungle. Pointed at the sky. "Look!"
A rhythmic thrumming filled the jungle. New ripples in unfamiliar shapes spread from one side of the pool to the other.
Two helicopters flashed overhead, a machine gunner in each door.
Omar hefted his missile tube. "Restrain her while I destroy our enemies."
Pahk grabbed her arms. Shook her.
The copters flew past too quickly for Omar to track them. They vanished behind the mountain.
What would they find up there?
Pahk had a suggestion for Omar. "The missiles seek heat sources. It's expensive, but you can use them against ground targets with an infrared signature to track. Like up on the mountain top."
Omar nodded grimly. "I understand. Perhaps we can redeem the situation after all."
Chapter Twenty-One: Captive Revenge
Schnier flew with the doors open. He secured the thick braided rope next to him with his heat-resistant gloves, ready to fast-rope from the helicopter.
The Rangers Lead the Way philosophy meant he'd be the first to jump out.
Michelle spoke in his ear, "Cowboy, flames on the IR, but not many signs of life near the top. Best bet is to land as planned, clear the area, and then assault from the high ground."
"Roger that, BB."
His tactical computer, strapped to his side, where he could flip it up at a glance, showed a view from the drone circling high above the battlefield. It confirmed her words, but also marked individuals at the dark pool below as well as groups set in ambush around the perimeter of their claimed area.
Too bad Schnier's platoon was about to bypass all those defensive formations and drop into their midst.
Their bird cleared the curve of the mountain. Approached their burning LZ, surrounded by rock walls. Tilted upward to a forty-five degree angle in order to rapidly kill forward momentum.
Leveled out. Descended to five meters.
Schnier and the ranger next to him tossed the bundle of rope out the open door. It attached inside the roof.
He gripped the rope.
"Go!" from the crew chief.
Schnier jumped. Clamped on, just hard enough to slow for safety, but fell fast enough for friction to fry the surface of his gloves.
Bent his legs near the end. They absorbed the ground impact.
He dodged to the side, one of his men controlled-falling right above and behind him. He ran to face outward and set security.
More followed his example as Schnier checked out their unresisting target and unstrapped his sniper rifle. "On-target."
Dead enemies. Burnt.
As the last man hit the ground and cleared the bottom of the rope, the helicopter crew chief pushed bundles of supplies out the side. Food and water, sure, but also cases of ammo, Carl Gustaf anti-tank rounds, mortar shells, and the heaviest of them all, a Modular Advanced Armed Robotic System (MAARS).
Padded for protection, the MAARS would require a little setup work, which the heavy weapons guys could take care of later, but having their own M240B machine gun and quad-barrel M203 grenade launcher armed ground robot might be the difference between life and death in tight quarters on the assault.
Closest thing to a portable unmanned tank available.
The crew chief detached the rope and let it tumble to the ground. Their bird tilted forward to speed away.
It would secure their primary exfil point, nearby Gozar Air Station, while the second Seahawk dropped the rest of his rangers here.
One man carrying a scoped AK at the ready stepped from the shadow of a rock wall.
Schnier instinctively raised his rifle and then lowered it as recognition dawned.
"Like a cockroach, aren't-cha?"
Sam stuck out his hand. "Glad to see you too, dude."
Schnier shook his hand, but also grabbed him in a manly hug for the length of three pats on the back, squishing their weapons to the side.
"No reason to worry, then."
"Naw. Everything's under control. Still, could use a ride out of here."
"This your work?"
"They asked me for a light. Wouldn't have been polite to decline. Plenty more out there for you, though. I'm not greedy."
Schnier flipped up his tactical screen. They'd drawn notice from the perimeter players, who'd sent at least some of their numbers back toward the mountain center. "I see that."
Sam pointed at where a path down the mountain led to a pool. "That's the heart of the operation. Cave complex behind the waterfall."
Schnier nodded. Tapped his transmit button. "Ball-buster, initial target secure, but we found some surfer here who is pretty destruction prone. Condition green. You want to claim him?"
Michelle exhaled into her mic. "Roger that, Cowboy. Marking objective ocean complete. Give him a kiss for me."
"Negative on that last." Schnier shrugged and released the button. "She's excited to hear."
Sam held up his wrists. Showed Schnier his chains. "More on my ankles. One of your dudes got the platoon's breaching bolt cutters handy?"
What'd he been through? Had to be a story there, but it'd need to wait. "Sure, our pleasure to help you get dressed this fine morning."
Schnier gave the necessary orders for his men to get Sam's chains clipped and then showed him his tactical screen.
Sam studied the screen, all business now. "Let's set an over-watch on the pool area and send a few of your dudes down to secure the area. That's where everything else meets together. From the pool we can keep the tangos split-up an
d from here we can protect their flanks."
"I'll defer to your local knowledge."
"Good, because I'm not sure I can hike this mountain again just now."
"You MI weenies always were out of shape."
Schnier gave his platoon their orders and tagged Sam to spot for him while he set his Stoner's bipod up on top of the rock wall next to the trail down the mountain.
Two pairs of his rangers remained behind to snipe other areas down below from the other two points of their triangle. Could cover almost the entire area of the mountain's sides this way.
A fifth man, his usual spotter, handed his scope to Sam and got to work stamping out the remaining fires before they spread.
Great location for a fort. Probably why the tangos chose it.
His, now.
Time for battle. Standing to get the correct angle for his Stoner down the mountain, he seated the butt into his shoulder. "Set."
"Three, no make that four, targets visible on the far side of the pond." Sam checked his viewfinder. "Approximately 625 meters, downhill. Target is standing in front. The others are together behind and to the left of him." He adjusted his spotter scope to zoom in.
"Contact." Schnier found the target Sam described. Ignored his men pounding down the trail. Needed to clear the objective of enemies before they arrived there in a couple of minutes.
"Go to glass."
Checking through his scope, he saw a narrow, but detailed view. "Target carrying a launcher. Just above the water. At 10 o'clock, two more."
"That's your target. Omar! Check parallax and mil."
Schnier adjusted the knob on his scope for maximum clarity. Paused his breathing to steady the man in his cross-hairs. "Ready."
"Check level. Hold over, five point four."
He shifted aim slightly higher to adjust for the distance. "Ready."
Sam paused as he double-checked his ballistics computer. "Wind left point four."
Omar shifted the point of his aim. The gaping maw of the missile launcher faced directly at their position.
Would the lingering heat from the explosions and fire provide an infrared lock?
Schnier shut it out of his mind. Focused on Sam's tiny adjustment for the wind.
Pressed his trigger.
Crack. The bullet immediately went supersonic. Flew down the mountain.
Omar's side exploded. He dropped the launcher. Collapsed.
"Good hit. New target, 10 o'clock, three meters."
Schnier shifted his view. Adjusted for clarity again in his optics.
Raven! Held by a short Korean?
"Raven? What the hell, Sam?"
Sam took a deep breath. "And Pahk. Guess I should've mentioned that part already." He looked through his better optics. "They're staring at Omar. Pahk's restraining her. Not going for the missile yet."
"I'm not shooting her."
"Good, because she's on our side. That's how I escaped. No idea why she's back. Should've been at the beach by now."
"Must've caught her. He'll kill her when my men arrive. Or they will."
Schnier got back on the radio. "Three tangos, one down, with female hostage across the pool near the trail. Repeat. American female hostage. Do not risk her."
"Roger that." Crackled through.
Michelle jumped in. "Perimeter groups are moving in toward the pond area to re-group. We need to hold it for this to work. Just take the shot, Cowboy."
"Negative. High value hostage." At least to him. "Let's see if we can't force a surrender. I'll be right down."
He picked up his Stoner. Flipped it over his shoulder. "You've been down this trail before. Lead the way."
Sam groaned, "Don't remind me!", but he grabbed the spotter scope and his AK and descended the beaten mountain path with a sort of bound-hop-slide combination which moved him faster than a rodeo clown dodging a bull's horns.
Schnier followed more like a herd of turtles, with short steps and slides. "What, are you surfing mountains now?"
Sam increased the distance between them with continued reckless abandon. "Falling with style!"
They cut down switchbacks, ran across rocks, slid over carved steps. Anything to reach the bottom sooner.
The trail turned into a straightaway. A stream flowed next to it.
Schnier's men completed their earlier, more cautious deployment where the trail passed by a waterfall.
Sam hit his full stride as he reached the turn in the trail where it departed from the stream.
No way he'd stop in time at that speed.
Instead, he dropped his equipment at the edge of the trail. Unlike him, it skidded to a halt.
Sam lengthened his stride. Turned his chin sideways. "Set up here. Listen for my voice." He faced forward just in time to dive into the end of the stream.
That momentum combined with the current to wash him over the waterfall hands and face-first.
Screwball surfer!
Chapter Twenty-Two: Escape Trick
I meant to rescue Raven from Pahk. Diving over the waterfall seemed like a good idea at the time.
Splashed into the pool of water below, off-kilter from the force of the descending stream. The sound of the normal rapid pounding should disguise my entry.
Reached the rock bottom. Pushed off. Stayed under as long as possible. Swam blindly across.
Pictured their location from the memory of my spotting scope.
Tangled my arms in long green stalks. Traced them upward. Giant lilies. Hadn't noticed them in the dark.
Lifted my head above the water to peek.
No Pahk. No Raven.
Just Omar's launcher, abandoned in a splash of blood-stained earth on the trail next to the far side of the pool.
Too late.
I treaded water to the edge of the pool, my previous effort wasted.
Cupped my hands in front of my mouth to form a makeshift funnel. "Schnier, bring your men down. They're gone."
Climbed out of the water. Panted on the rocky trail and my need for oxygen caught up.
What would happen to Raven?
Could she survive?
* * *
Raven jerked her head up at the shot from above. Where did that come from? Sam?
Omar collapsed to the dirt trail. His launcher slipped out of his now-relaxed grip.
Pahk grabbed her left wrist. Twisted it behind her in some sort of karate grip.
Pain flooded her arm. She stood on her toes to reduce it.
Omar's other soldier rushed to help him. Checked his pulse at his thumb. Took off his shirt. Bundled it up. Pressed it into his side to slow the bleeding.
She tried to turn.
Pahk prevented her from moving around with minimal effort.
She was bigger than Pahk. Taller. Why couldn't she fight him?
All she needed to do was delay them until whoever took that shot arrived.
Pahk grunted to the soldier, "Carry him with us to the river."
Raven's arm pivoted, turning her body as if it had a mind of its own. She marched down the trail, away from the pool of water, away from safety, following the river at Pahk's unspoken command.
The other soldier hefted Omar over his shoulder. Staggered down the trail after them.
With no way to escape, no way to even relieve the pain at her wrist, Raven trudged forward.
Pahk leaned closer to her ear. "Don't worry, I know the Americans, they won't put you in danger. Too weak to do what is necessary."
She tried to stumble. To bow forward and force Pahk to release her arm.
He merely bent forward as well and then grabbed her hair from behind to lift her body. "None of that!"
She sighed. Complied. Tears ran down her face.
So close to freedom! What an idiot. Again.
They reached a short river dock. A camouflaged Chinese missile boat, at least twice the width of a normal speedboat, sat silently at the ready.
Pahk shoved her aboard. Into the arms of a uniformed sailor.
He dodged. Hit her in the face.
Her nose gushed.
Pahk wasn't amused. "Control her, you idiot. Tie her up or something. Don't you sailors know knots?"
Two more of the crew dog-piled her. Restrained her arms and legs in order to tie them to loops built into the boat.
Pahk carried Omar aboard. Lay him out on the deck, partially protected from the weather. "Get this man a medic."
A female sailor approached them. Held her head high. Must be in charge. "You said one passenger, an American male, not these two."
Pahk looked down his nose at her. "They're both coming. Both important. Admiral Hu will want them both."
She hesitated, as if this change of plans didn't compute in her military mind. "Very well. Your responsibility."
"Of course."
The boat pilot turned to her sailors. "Cast off."
One flipped the final cable from the pier.
Raven wished she knew what Pahk was getting her into.
Disconnected from the dock, the pilot fired up the engines. Pressed her dual throttles forward. Twisted the wheel with the knob built into it for that purpose.
Sped them down the river, the current aiding their progress.
Shouts from behind. American soldiers at the dock. Was that Sam with them?
Too far to tell for sure before they vanished behind a river bend.
* * *
I pounded down the trail into the jungle. Gasped for breath.
Schnier led the way, despite my greater familiarity.
Guess Omar's torture and the trips up and down the mountain took more out of me than I thought.
Five of his men followed, weapons out, packs dropped with the rest of their platoon back at the pool, not used to their captain taking point.
I recognized a few, had worked with them before, Spec 4 Watkins, a great cross-country runner, among them. He blew right past me. I tried to give encouragement and directions from behind. "Stay on the trail. Not much farther!"
Three others passed me when I slowed. I became the second to last man running.
Sergeant Madsen, the last guy, felt he needed to guard our rear. At least, he kept looking back and around at the jungle, as if a jihadi terrorist could pop out at any moment.
To be fair, they could, but Schnier and I didn't care just now.
Madsen carried a light machine gun over one hefty shoulder and a case of ammo in his other hand, but I insisted to myself that I wasn't so beat up by Omar that I wouldn't have stayed ahead of him even without all that.
Covert Commando: A Sam Harper Military Thriller Page 14
