by H. L. Wegley
Based on the time of Craig’s call, Steve calculated the possible arrival time of the helicopters. It could have been thirty minutes ago, or as much as three hours. Maybe he was too late and Julia was—no. He wouldn’t accept that.
When Steve looked at Bob, the man’s blue eyes were locked on Steve. “I fought in Nam. First Air Cavalry. So I know there’s a small army down there. They on your side?”
“No.”
Bob whistled as he banked the plane and headed toward a mountain to the south. “If you’re bent on committing suicide, I need to get you as close to that cave with as little exposure as possible.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“We can use Black Butte Mountain to hide our approach for a while and keep us to the west of that army.”
Steve noted that Bob’s “I” had become “we.” The old pilot had bought into helping Steve, but he didn’t want to get the man killed or his plane shot up. “How close can you get me without them seeing me … assuming the troops are near the cave?”
“We can snuggle up to the trees, come in from the southwest, and climb like crazy just before I drop you.”
“I need a little room to navigate before reaching the ground.”
“Son, I think you should minimize your air time and only use that chute to stop you from splattering on the lava rocks down there. You know, let the chute pop open just before you do. Now, show me where you want to land and, if we do this quick like, you’ll be on the ground before they can react.”
“You’re right. Thanks, Bob. But …” Bob was putting himself in serious danger and Steve had forced him here at gunpoint, though Captain Towery’s endorsement had eased the tension a bit.
“I’ll be okay. By the time they can see me, I’ll be halfway through my Immelmann turn. I go down out of sight and snuggle up to the trees as I fly away to the south. They’ll never get a clear shot at me. I’ll never be over them, you know, like a threat. And it sounds like they’re more worried about a target on the ground than some little Cessna snooping on them. I’ll be fine.”
“Bob … if we both get out of this alive, man, I owe you one … a big one.”
“Tell you what. After you survive this, you bring that little gal that beat Ebola up to Madras, and I’ll introduce both of you to the boys and give you a free jump.”
“You got yourself a deal.”
“Steve …” Bob shoved his large, calloused right hand at Steve.
Steve shook it. Knowing it was this former soldier’s way of saying goodbye, good luck, and God bless you. “God bless you, too, Bob.”
“Now, listen up. In about ninety seconds, you need to move out onto that step welded onto the landing gear. When we start the climb, you count two seconds, leap as far out from the plane as you can, and pull the ripcord. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Rangers lead the way!” Bob yelled and waved Steve toward the small platform where he would jump.
Steve climbed out onto the landing gear of the little Cessna 150. They were, as Bob put it, snuggled up to the trees. So low that Steve couldn’t see the ground around the vicinity of the cave. To orient himself, he looked at the spot where he thought the cave would be.
The Cessna nosed upward and the engine’s drone turned to a roar.
Steve gripped the wing strut hard to keep from falling off in the steep climb. One thousand one, one thousand two. Steve leaped far beyond the distance needed to avoid the tail section and, at the height of his jump, tried to catch a glimpse of the cave.
In a large circle, with the cave’s entrance at its center, a whole company of soldiers, at least 200, moved slowly, guns in hand, drawing their noose tighter on the cave and its occupants.
Could he make it in time? In time to what? Get shot? Was there any way to stop these men ordered by the president to kill seven terrorists?
As Steve pulled the ripcord, Bob’s last words echoed in his mind, “Rangers lead the way!” The final words of the Rangers’ Creed.
Another thought popped into his head as the canopy popped open above him. The men on the ground were not just soldiers, they were Rangers. That used to mean something. But, in this man’s army, it only raised a question. Would they honor their creed?
Chapter 41
Julia gripped her gun, still in automatic mode, as she watched the drama unfold thirty yards in front of her.
Her four friends, lying on the cave floor with their hands duct-taped behind them, were at Deke’s mercy. But the man’s violent gestures and crude, threatening words said he knew no such thing as mercy.
Deke tossed a rock, hitting Brock in the back where his t-shirt displayed the US flag.
Brock flinched.
“Do you think it makes you an American patriot to wear a flag on your back? After you’re dead, Hannan will paint Brock Daniels as a power-hungry traitor. So much for your image.” Deke’s eyes seemed to refocus on KC.
His grin exuded evil. He had given in to the darkness inside him and it became clear where he was headed. “On the other hand, Ms. Banning is more tastefully dressed. But, perhaps she should not be dressed at all.”
Julia stiffened at Deke’s vile, threatening words. She planted the butt of the gun on her shoulder and slowly raised the barrel. The words of that still, small voice replayed in Julia’s mind.
Only you can stop the evil and the time is now.
“Johnson, you can do the honors.” Deke waved Johnson toward KC.
Her urge to stop Deke had become a firm resolve. Julia slipped out from behind the rock and aimed her gun, targeting a point chest high, half way between Johnson and KC.
Johnson, appeared oblivious to Julia, completely focused on his task. He took a step toward KC.
Julia pulled the gun tightly against her shoulder. In one smooth motion, she squeezed the trigger and swung the barrel in an arc away from the four people on the ground.
The gun came alive in Julia’s hands. The rhythmic cracking of M4, amplified by the cave, pounded her eardrums. The barrel tried to rise, like the rifle had a will of its own. Steve had warned her about this, but the higher aim only made her shots deadlier.
Johnson and Deke fell to the ground.
Deke lay still.
But Johnson moved. His hand reached for his gun beside him on the cave floor.
Julia aimed at Johnson and shot another burst. Bullets kicked up a line of dirt that she directed across Johnson’s body.
He stopped moving.
It was over.
The emotional battle had already been fought and won. She had done what was required. Relief washed over her.
Julia pushed the safety lever and ran toward her friends.
Brock had rolled onto his back. He sat up, surveying the gory scene.
Julia tried not to look at the two men as she ran toward Brock.
“Julia, get his knife.” Brock nodded at Deke. “It’s on his belt. Then cut us loose.”
Could she take a dead man’s knife, a man she had killed? An hour ago, probably not. But now, the new resolve in her heart and mind to confront and fight against evil told her she could do this.
When she’d argued with Brock at Jeff’s house, Brock had been right. They lived in a fallen world. She believed that as a theological abstraction, but had refused to carry her belief through to its logical conclusion, a conclusion the one true God had illustrated many times in the scriptures. When evil threatened innocent people, sometimes deadly force was the only option. That was why governments around the globe established police forces and armies.
Now, Julia understood more fully the implications of living in a sin infected world. She also understood Steve’s strong desire to protect.
And I need to tell him.
Julia slipped Deke’s knife from his belt.
Brock swiveled around on his rear and pushed his hands out from his back.
Julia knelt behind him and carefully sawed through the layers of duct tape.
While Brock ripped the tape from
his wrists, Julia moved to KC.
When the knife cut through KC’s bonds, she pulled her hands apart and whirled around to face Julia who knelt beside her. Tears in KC’s eyes overflowed onto her cheeks, “Julia, please forgive me. I … I …”
“No, KC. There’s nothing to forgive. I need you to forgive me. I acted like I was superior to you all, too good to even—”
KC slapped a piece of duct tape over Julia’s mouth. “We don’t want to hear any more of you putting yourself down, Julia. Not another word.” KC wrapped her arms around Julia in a fierce hug. “You’ve done things over the last two days that I could never do. You saved our lives and Steve’s, and risked your own to do it.”
“Yeah.” Jeff grunted the affirmation as he struggled to a sitting position. “But, if you two are through with all the girlie stuff, Allie and I would like to have the use of our hands.”
When Julia moved to Jeff and Allie, a light flashed on the floor of the cave, accompanied by a buzzing sound. Deke’s phone.
Brock leaped forward and grabbed it. “Hello. Is this Craig? … We’re safe for the moment. … Julia shot Deke and his man, Johnson. Yeah. I’m sure. I saw her do it.”
Julia freed Jeff and Allie, then stopped. What was that sound outside the cave? “Someone’s out there.” She ran toward the ladder at the cave entrance.
Jeff lunged at her, trying to stop her.
Julia pulled away, sprinted to the ladder, and stepped onto the first rung.
Jeff reached the ladder and tried to pull her off.
She kicked at him.
He backed away. “Julia, stop.”
She gave him the shush signal. This was her job and she needed to do it for her friends as well as herself.
Jeff gave her a puzzled frown.
Julia motioned up, out of the cave. “We need to be quiet,” she whispered. “Tell the others to keep it down while I see who’s out there.”
Jeff scurried back to the group and picked up two rifles, handing one to Brock.
Julia turned, looked upward, and slowly climbed the ladder. Hoping to see Benjamin, she peered out.
Movement on the higher ground to the west caught her eye. Julia ducked, then stepped down a rung, processing images of what she’d seen.
Men in tac gear. Hundreds of them. And sitting on a large lava rock was something like the thermal bear launcher she had seen on Bolan Peak. But this one was bigger and looked even more menacing.
Steve had mentioned a deadly thermobaric weapon used to kill the Taliban hiding in caves. He’d called it a serpent or—she couldn’t remember. But it sounded like the deadliest of all thermal bears.
Somehow, she had to make certain the soldiers here didn’t use it, or Julia and the others would all die a fiery death. That thought sent her racing heart into a wild, driving rhythm.
She had to tell these men that Hannan was a prisoner. Needed to tell them now. That would stop their attack. But how could she communicate with them without getting shot?
Julia scampered down the ladder and whirled toward Brock.
Still on the phone with Craig, Brock’s eyes were filled with excitement.
She hurried to Brock, took a close look at the buttons on the phone, then reached in and muted it.
He pulled the phone from his ear. “What the heck are you doing, Julia?”
“Quiet. We’re surrounded by soldiers. Rangers. Hundreds of them. We need to tell them we have Hannan held hostage or we’re all dead. Ask Craig how we should do that.”
Color drained from Brock’s face. “We have a problem, Julia.” Brock drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hannan’s dead.”
Silence in the cave.
Steve. Was he with Craig? Was he safe? Julia needed to know about Steve. No, not just know about him, she wanted Steve here with her. She needed to beg his forgiveness and hope that somehow he would understand why she had cruelly lied to him. If she died now, Steve would never know. He would never understand that she loved him. That the barriers between them were gone.
If Hannan was dead, Craig must have been successful. She looked up at Brock. “Was Steve with Craig?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve got to tell Craig about the Rangers.” Brock fumbled with the phone.
“Wait a minute.” Julia grabbed Brock’s hand. “I have an idea. Take off your shirt, Brock.”
“Hold it. You’re not gonna do to me what Deke tried to do to KC.”
“Julia.” KC hooked Brock’s free arm. “He doesn’t do that for anyone but me.”
“How about doing it for the USA?”
KC’s hands went to her hips. “No. Brock’s not one of those chips and dips or whatever they call those show guys in Las Vegas.”
She huffed a blast of air. “Look, I just want to make a white flag and an American flag. His t-shirt is perfect. I’ll cut it in half.”
Brock sighed, pulled his shirt over his head, and shoved it at her. “Take the doggone thing. I’ve got some more clothes in my pack.”
Julia picked up Deke’s knife and sliced the sides of the t-shirt, then tied the white front half to the end of her M4. She picked up Deke’s rifle and tied the American flag side of the shirt to its muzzle.
Time to get out of here while Brock looked for another shirt. He would try to stop her.
“Now what?” Jeff’s voice.
With a rifle in each hand, Julia turned toward the ladder.
Brock pulled a shirt from his duffle bag and looked up. “You’re not going out there to surrender, Julia.” He reached for her.
Julia backed away from him. “Who’s going to stop me?”
He leaped ahead to block her path. “I am.”
“Brock, if a man goes out there with a gun in his hand, it’s threatening. They’ll shoot him. But little Julia Weiss—I’m not threatening to anybody.”
Brock shook his head. “Not threatening? Try telling that to Deke and Johnson.”
“Move, Brock.”
He folded his arms and shook his head. “Sorry, but you’re not going.”
She lowered her M4, pointing it at his foot. “Don’t make me shoot you, Brock Daniels. But I will if you don’t move. You’ve seen that I’ve overcome my inhibitions.”
Brock’s body stiffened, but he didn’t move.
She shoved the bolt forward creating an ominous click.
Brock backed away. “Julia, Steve will kill me if I let you go out there.”
“He’ll kill me, too,” Jeff said.
“This is okay, Brock. I know what I’m doing.”
“Which is?” Brock raised his eyebrows.
Brock had thought she was crazy since they arrived at Jeff’s house. If she told him her plan, it would only confirm it. “Maybe I’ll just sing,” she muttered.
“What did you say? Sing?”
“Have you got any better ideas?”
“Go right ahead. You can sing Michael, Row the Boat A-Shore or Where Have All the Flowers Gone while they kill you. Or maybe you can put them to sleep with Rock-a-Bye Baby so we can all escape?”
“How about I Surrender All,” Jeff said.
She ignored Jeff’s comment and peered into Brock’s glaring eyes. “Brock, I’m not exactly stupid.”
“Not exactly, but pretty doggone close.”
Chapter 42
Had any of the Rangers seen Steve bail out of the Cessna? If the Rangers had posted sentries, they might have seen the chute open. That possibility made Steve doubly cautious as he moved toward the cave.
And, once he got there, what was he going to do? He didn’t know, but he sure wasn’t going to whistle Hail to the Chief.
What was left of Steve’s uniform, his tattered shirt, might identify him as a Ranger, a somewhat out-of-uniform Ranger. But would it cause them to hesitate before shooting him? Maybe …
His approach from the southwest, through thicker vegetation, allowed Steve to move quickly with less chance of being spotted. But, when he topped a small rise, the scene below knocked the air out
of him like a punch to the gut.
A circle of at least 200 Rangers, a whole company, surrounded a big hole in the rocks, the cave opening. The perimeter of the circle, running through pine trees and across lava outcroppings, left a hundred yards between the men and the cave.
Would the Rangers draw the noose tighter and try to enter? If they did, the outcome was certain. Rangers 6, Brock Daniels team 0. The exact score didn’t matter. The game ended when the Rangers’ score reached six.
Steve scanned the scene again and an icy chill crawled down his spine. He had missed the greatest danger of all. Sitting, propped on a folding bipod on top of a lava boulder, giving it a clear shot at the cave opening, sat a SMAW II Serpent, the mother of all portable thermobaric weapons. This fiery serpent had killed many Taliban as its flames roared through buildings and caves in Afghanistan.
“Steve, I … I’m not afraid to die, but please, not by burning.” That was Julia’s desperate plea, before they escaped from their fiery suite in Netanya. In a cave, that’s exactly how a SMAW-launched rocket would kill her. And it wouldn’t simply burn her. At 5,000 degrees, the warhead would incinerate everyone in the cave.
Steve wouldn’t let that happen, even if he must die to destroy the weapon. But he had another option. If he could get the commander’s attention, without being shot in the process, maybe Steve could start negotiating a peaceful surrender before anyone was killed.
Success depended on the commander’s first reaction to Steve and on the commander’s loyalties. Since this group comprised a whole company from JBLM, it would not be uniformly loyal to Hannan like the small hand-picked black ops teams Brock Daniels and company had previously encountered. That provided a small measure of hope.
Drawing on that hope, Steve drew a breath and stepped out from behind a big Ponderosa Pine to make the biggest gamble of his life.
No one noticed. Every man seemed focused on the cave. Why? No one was manning the SMAW, so what was happening?
Steve stopped and listened. From the cave opening, a deep, rich contralto voice, with a hint of vibrato, reached him. The first three words identified the song, God Bless America.
