"A fucking chick on a bloody mission," one of the men said with disgust.
The man who had made the announcement turned to the board near his right rear. Pictures of all six members of Section 8 were tacked there. He reached out with his free hand and ran his fingers over Tai's image, almost a caress.
"She's supposed to be a badass," he noted.
"That's what her file says."
"File," the second man snorted.
"I'll show her a fucking file."
The team leader gave a cold smile.
"I don't think she's going to be around for our reckoning with these fellows."
He was a tall man, head shaved completely bald. A jagged scar ran across his forehead. On top of the scar a barbed-wire tattoo had been laid, making it seem part of the artwork. His accent indicated he was from South Africa, with the trace of Afrikaaner showing through.
The other man who had spoken had an Australian accent. The third man, Sicilian, had a swarthy complexion, and was tumbling a throwing knife through the fingers of his right hand seemingly without paying attention. The fourth man was black and huge, his chest as wide as a barrel, his head also shaved, and gleaming under the fluorescent lights in the operations room they occupied.
The black man stirred uncomfortably.
"You have a link into their commo?" he asked.
The team leader nodded.
"We get copied on everything that goes on inside the team and that comes out of the isolation."
The black man frowned.
"Ever occur to you that they could be doing that to us also?"
"Who the fuck knows who they are," the Australian noted.
"What the hell are you talking about?" the team leader demanded.
"Well," the black man noted, "if we're spying on them, how do we know there's not a team spying on us?"
"A little paranoid, aren't you?" the team leader asked.
"Occupational hazard," the black man said.
The team leader stared at him.
"Just focus on your job, all right? Don't get to be thinking beyond what you're capable of."
The muscles on the black man's face tightened, but he said nothing.
Everyone was startled when, with a solid thud, the throwing knife slammed into the wall, dead center on Tai's face. The man who had been playing with it slowly got up, walked to the wall, and pulled it out.
Over the Philippines
The pressure equalized. With a hiss, the back ramp began to open, revealing a sliver of night sky. Vaughn focused on his breathing, making sure it was slow and steady. He had never liked being on oxygen. It made him very aware how hostile the environment around him was. A chill was already settling into his bones from the freezing air swirling into the cargo bay, easily overwhelming the plane's heaters.
"Goggles," Vaughn said over the FM radio.
Both he and Tai slid the night vision goggles mounted on their helmets down and switched them on. The cargo bay was lit only by a few small red night-lights, but with the goggles, everything appeared as if brightly lit. Vaughn looked out over the ramp and could see hundreds of bright stars. It was beautiful.
Hong Kong
Ruiz lifted a single finger ever so slightly on his right hand, and the curtain behind him slowly began to open.
"Gentlemen and lady, it is time."
Over the Philippines
Vaughn could feel the weight of the parachute, reserve, rucksack, weapon, and combat vest all weighing him down. Over a hundred pounds, all focused on the top of his shoulders, pressing down on him. He remembered jumps where his rucksack had weighed over twice as much and his only thought after standing at the six-minute warning had been to pray for the green light to go on so he could get the hell out of the plane and get this weight off his shoulders.
He glanced to his left at Tai. She stood ramrod straight, as if denying the weight on her shoulders.
Over the Mid-Pacific
The plane was descending. Even without access to the cockpit, David could tell that. Looking out one of the windows, he saw the ocean slowly approaching. He estimated that he had already passed through 10,000 feet, and the descent seemed to be picking up speed.
His attempts to get into the armored pilot's compartment had all failed. Whoever prepared this plane had done a good job. Naturally, there were no convenient parachutes lying around. His attempts to wake up the other passengers had also failed. Whatever had been in that gas was very powerful. David figured he had a couple of minutes left. He stared at the unconscious occupants of the passenger compartment and almost envied them. They would simply pass out of this life without the terror of seeing their end coming. For people in this profession, it was almost a mercy.
He went back to his seat, took out his PDA and satphone. The message he had begun earlier was still there.
He began typing.
Hong Kong
There was a collective gasp in the room as the object behind the curtain was revealed. This from people who had more money than many small nations and were not known to gasp at anything.
A slight smile curled at the sides of Ruiz's mouth. It was as he'd hoped. He had picked this particular item to be first for shock value. A jewel-festooned golden box over two feet long by one foot wide and high, it was a unique piece, dating back over six hundred years to the height of craftsmen at the Chinese Imperial Court. It was well-known among collectors – known for its extreme value and beauty, and known to have been lost during World War II, disappearing during the Rape of Nanking.
Ruiz left the podium, went to the box and carefully lifted the lid. The box had just been a precursor. Out of its interior he lifted a jade sculpture. The half-dozen in the audience, stunned already by the box, could only sit there with jaws agape at this even rarer, and greater, treasure.
"The bidding will commence on this," he announced, bringing the object forward and showing it to the six people.
The first of the six to collect his wits immediately shouted out a number. An insanely large number to begin the bidding with. The smile grew larger on Ruiz's face as a second person topped that number by over a million U.S. dollars, the currency of all world business.
In his other hand, Ruiz held a stopwatch, which he now showed to the bidders.
"As agreed, the bidding will be over in sixty seconds."
The amount escalated at a pace the person taking in the numbers could barely keep up with as the buyers scrambled under the dual pressure of little time and even greater greed.
Over the Philippines
"One minute," the crew chief announced, holding up a single finger.
Vaughn and Tai edged closer to the ramp, side by side. Glancing down, he could see that they were over open ocean. The plan was to offset from Jolo over ten miles. That would keep anyone on the island from being aware a plane was anywhere nearby. They would fly their parachutes to the island.
Australia
"One minute," the team leader announced to the others. He lowered the satphone for a second.
"This is going to be very interesting."
Over the Mid-Pacific
David glanced out the window. He could see the horizon now, which meant the plane was very low. There was so much more he wanted to write, but there was no more time. He hit the send button on the satphone.
The SENDING message flickered on the small screen.
"Come on, come on," David whispered. He glanced around. Should he assume the crash position that was always briefed? He smiled bitterly to himself. With the engines still at full thrust, there wasn't going to be much left of this thing after it hit the water.
He looked at the screen. SENDING was still flashing.
Over the Philippines
Vaughn still couldn't see land below. He had to trust the plane's navigator that they were going out where they'd planned. He looked up into the tail of the plane at the red light that glowed there. In a flash it went out and the green light above it flickered on.
"Go,
" he yelled.
Hong Kong
Ruiz held up his hand, but still had to shout to stop the frenzied bidding.
"Time."
He turned to the shaken woman who had been taking in the bids.
"Who and how much?" The woman swallowed.
"Sixty million. Bidder number four."
There was silence in the room as the number sank in. It was as if, during the actual bidding, the reality had been lost in the lust for a one-of-a-kind piece of history.
Over the Mid-Pacific
David's complete focus was on the message flashing on his screen. He didn't want to see how close the water – and his death – were. The letters SENDING began to dissolve and were replaced. He cursed. BLOCKED They'd thought of everything, and cut him out of the Milstar loop.
The nose of the plane hit.
Over the Philippines
Vaughn and Tai went off the ramp in step and fell into the darkness.
Hong Kong
The room exploded in excitement. Money wasn't the issue. Questions were hurled at Ruiz. Where had these artifacts come from? Who was behind this?
He did not answer nor did he give them time to collect themselves.
"We will now bid on the box. And…" He paused for effect.
"…after that, there will be sixteen more articles just as rare and exquisite."
Pacific Ocean
A piece of seat cushion and a rapidly dissipating fuel slick marked the grave of all those who had been on the plane.
Over Jolo Island
As soon as he was clear of the plane, Vaughn assumed a stable position, back arched, arms and legs spread wide. Then he quickly reached down and pulled the rip cord for his main parachute.
The opening shock jerked him upright. He looked up and checked his canopy. It was fully deployed and appeared intact. His hands snaked up and grabbed the toggles controlling the chute. Then he looked about for Tai. She was low jumper, according to the plan, the primary navigator to the drop zone on the island.
Even though they had radio communication, they would not use it unless absolutely necessary, for fear that the Abu Sayef would pick up the transmission. Vaughn spotted her chute below him and to the right. He pulled on his right toggle and turned to follow her.
Australia
"They're in the air," the team leader announced.
"Let's see how well the bitch can do."
The black man abruptly stood up and headed for the door.
"Were the hell you think you're going?" the Australian demanded.
"I'm going to get some sleep."
The black man paused and stared at the Australian.
"You got a problem with that?"
"Oh, fuck off," the Australian muttered.
Over Jolo Island
Tai had a navigation board strapped on top of her reserve parachute, just in front of her oxygen cylinder. Built into the board was a compass, a GPS unit, an altimeter, and a small scale copy of the map of their target area. Through her night vision goggles she could see all them, although not at the greatest resolution. Enough to get the job done, though.
She never looked up. She had to trust that Vaughn was tracking her. Her entire focus was on the nav board. Every once in a while she would glance beyond to try to see the island far below them, a reflex that was impossible to resist. Ahead, far ahead, she could spot a dark mass: Jolo Island. They were on track for it, visually confirming what her instruments were telling her.
According to the altimeter, she was passing through 20,000 feet. The chutes were like large wings that they could fly, and were practically undetectable to radar. The C-130 was long gone, traveling along on the same track it had been on, as if nothing unusual had occurred.
She wasn't so focused that she didn't register the slight hitch in her gear, a tug on the right side. She looked up, tracing her riser up to where it connected to nylon cords that spread out to the chute itself. One of the cords had broken. As she was watching, another one popped. She'd never seen anything like that happen. Another let loose. Then another. The right side of her canopy began to flap loosely.
Above Tai, Vaughn could see that something was wrong, since she was now making a slow turn to the right. Even without the nav board, he could see Jolo Island, and she was turning away from it. Vaughn pulled in on both toggles, dumping air so he could get closer to her.
The rest of the nylon cords on the right side of Tai's parachute let go all at once, and the parachute went from a flying wing to a streamer of material wrapped into itself. Her descent practically unchecked, she plummeted toward the earth.
Vaughn cursed as he saw the chute collapse. He dumped as much air as he safely could without causing his own parachute to collapse and chased after her, losing ground.
"Cut away," Vaughn urged, not using the radio yet. He knew she had to know what to do next.
Tai was already in the process of doing that. She couldn't deploy her reserve with the main still attached because the reserve would get caught up in the main, so she had to get rid of the malfunctioning canopy before she could deploy the reserve. She flipped open the metal covers on her shoulder that protected the cutaways, the loops of metal cable attached to pins that locked the attaching point for the canopy to her harness. She put her thumbs through the metal loops and pulled both at the same time.
She was rewarded with two metal cable loops dangling over her thumbs but no released main. It was still firmly attached to the rig. Shocked at this second and most unexpected event, Tai lost her concentration and began to tumble, held partly upright by the streamer.
She was a good two hundred feet below Vaughn and moving farther away with each second. He couldn't understand why she hadn't cut away yet. The only possibility was that she was unconscious. But he could see her arms moving purposefully, pulling at her shoulders.
Tai was trying to dig into the cutaway, to pull the small pins out with the tip of her fingers, but she couldn't get leverage on them. She did a quick check at the nav board. The altimeter read 10,000 feet and indicated she was descending at almost terminal velocity.
Realizing there was no more time to mess around, she stopped trying to pull the pins and reached for the shoto tucked under her vest. She slid the blade out. With a quick slash, she cut through her right riser, the razor-sharp edge easily slicing through the nylon. Then the left. The main parachute fluttered away and she tumbled into full free fall. She slid the shoto back into its sheath, then arched her back, spreading her arms and legs to get stable before she pulled the reserve. If she pulled it while tumbling, there was a good chance it would just wrap around her body.
Vaughn flew past Tai's fluttering cutaway main canopy, his eyes focused on her. He watched her stop her tumbling and get stable, all the while mentally urging her to pull her reserve. They were getting low and running out of altitude.
Tai reached for the handle for her reserve and pulled it, tensing her body for the rapid opening shock that would follow its explosive opening.
Nothing.
Three malfunctions in a row. There was no training for this. She had run through all the emergency procedures correctly and was still plummeting toward earth at almost terminal velocity. The only thing slowing her down now was her own body spread as wide as she could make it.
Above her, Vaughn decided it was time to ignore security.
"What are you doing? Over."
He transmitted over the short-range FM.
Tai was struggling to maintain a stable position, her training pushing her to do it even as her mind realized it was worthless. She was going to die. At this speed, hitting the water would be like hitting concrete. She faintly heard Vaughn's voice in her earpiece.
"Reserve malfunction!" she screamed.
Reserves weren't supposed to malfunction, Vaughn thought as he glanced at his altimeter. Five thousand feet. She was at least four hundred feet below him, and the gap was growing wider.
There was only one option. It was stupid, it was insane
, but he didn't hesitate.
He reached up, grabbed the metal covers over his cutaways, flipped them open, put his thumbs in the loops and pulled. The pins popped and his main separated from his harness. He was now in free fall.
Vaughn briefly went into the free-fall stable position, then tucked his head down, moved his arms back tight against his sides, legs together, and became an arrow, shooting down toward Tai.
"I'm coming for you," he yelled, the mike picking it up and transmitting.
"Stay stable."
"What?" Tai was confused. How could he be coming for her? Then she realized what he had to have done. She wanted to yell at him, to curse him out for being so foolish, but she also knew it was too late. Still, there was a spark of hope in her chest. She didn't know what he planned to do, but whatever it was, it was her only chance at living.
Four thousand feet.
Vaughn looked past the black spread-eagle form that was Tai. Jolo Island was off in the distance, at least a mile or two offset from them. They were over open water and there was no way they would make landfall. That was the least of their problems right now. Vaughn could tell he was closing on Tai, but he wasn't sure if it would be enough.
Three thousand feet.
Tai was only fifty feet below him now, and he was inching closer. It was going to be close, very close.
Two thousand feet.
She was ten feet below him…five feet. Vaughn moved out of the dive position to stable as he came alongside her. He knew that grabbing her and pulling his reserve wouldn't work – the opening shock would be stronger than his ability to hold onto her. He had to make sure there was a secure connection. With one hand, he reached out and grabbed her harness.
Section 8 jv-1 Page 16
