The Raven continued coming closer but, just as suddenly, stopped its descent. Hiroshi, who had been unceremoniously conscripted to chase the trio in the small R-44, nervously decided to halt his descent when he saw the armed man running towards the rocks.
“What are you doing, you idiot?” the Yakuza guard yelled to him from the seat behind him as he set down the rocket launcher and picked up his AK-47. “Go after him,” he yelled, glaring menacingly and pointing his weapon out the open door behind Hiroshi.
“But what about the Sikorsky?”
“The Sikorsky is crippled and is not going anywhere. Once we eliminate him,” he said, gesturing to Turner, “we’ll deal with the others. Now get this craft in position for a clear shot.”
Hiroshi cursed his luck, knowing that he should have been on his way back to the airport by now. However, he obediently swung the small craft to the right and continued its descent as the soldier took aim out the door.
Turner heard the report of gunfire from above him, and dove headlong into a small opening between a few boulders just as a spray of bullets hit the rocks above his head sending shards of rocks and dirt flying about. Taking a deep breath, he sprung up and unleashed a barrage from his weapon at the helicopter. Unfortunately, he managed only to splinter the landing strut underneath. As the chopper reacted defensively by rising upward, Turner anticipated the move. He aimed and squeezed the trigger, hearing only the clicking sound of an empty ammo clip.
Damn! How could I have been so stupid? He thought, angry at himself for leaving the last clip in the Sikorsky. He saw the Raven hovering lower and could see the soldier within smiling widely as he brought the rocket launcher out the door of the craft.
Turner knew at that moment he was a dead man. With no place to run and no one to help him, he simply stared at the man aiming the rocket launcher. Watching and waiting for the final sting of death, he suddenly saw the flash of an arrow from the Mathews hunting bow. It struck the neck of the Yakuza guard, piercing it completely. Turner saw the soldier’s eyes widen in pain and shock as he collapsed forward onto the pilot, jamming the flight stick in the same direction. The Raven yawed wildly and began spiraling toward the ground. Hiroshi’s final thoughts were that of his hunting trip as the small helicopter hit the ground and exploded into a fireball.
Turner stood and gazed over to the Sikorsky. He saw his friend Samuel standing at the base of the loading ramp, smiling and slinging the hunting bow over his shoulder. Captain Saune, who rushed over and opened the engine cowling, was busy emptying two fire extinguishers onto the heavily smoking engine.
Snatched from the jaws of death, a relieved Turner ran over to join his friend at the ramp.
“I owe you one, Samuel,” Turner said gratefully. “I thought I was a goner.”
“Hey, what are friends for? Besides, I can’t let you have all the fun,” Samuel replied, smiling and slapping Turner on the back.
“It’s a good thing you’re a good shot,” Turner said, amazed by the precision of his friend's archery skills.
“Remind me to take you hunting back home in the Amazon rainforest someday. I’ll teach you how to use a real long bow. This stuff is for weekend amateurs,” he said in disdain, tossing the bow back up the loading ramp. “I tried at first to set this damn thing up,” he explained, pointing to the Herstal 50-caliber gun, “but the angle was too steep.”
Captain Saune walked over to the two men and tossed the last empty fire extinguisher on the ground. “We were lucky,” he said, wiping his blackened hands on his BDUs. “The electrical system took the brunt of the damage on the starboard engine. If it had hit us a little more forward, we wouldn't be talking right now.”
“Can we still fly with one engine out?” Turner asked the fatigued soldier. “Maria and my father are still in danger.”
“We can, but I can assure you we won’t have a lot of speed or maneuverability,” he answered wearily as the trio headed up the loading ramp. “I’ll get us airborne and see if I can find them.”
He started walking back to the flight deck, while Turner and Samuel remained at the rear, looking out at the still smoking, twisted remains of the Raven helicopter.
The two remaining GE engines whined loudly as the big seven-prop Sikorsky roared to life. They started to slowly lift- off as Turner pulled back the bolt on the Herstal 50-caliber machine gun.
“We won’t need the bow and arrows now,” Turner declared, feeling the anger well inside of him as he thought of all the death and destruction that had occurred since the previous evening.
Weary from the long night, the young archaeologist ached all over and longed to close his eyes. However, the adrenaline now coursing through his body kept him going as they passed over the ridge and headed east; following the route their friends had taken.
“They’ll be okay, Josh,” Samuel said, seeing the trepidation in his friend’s eyes. “Your father will look out for them.”
“God help them if they hurt my father and Maria,” Turner said in an acerbic tone, looking his friend in the eye. “God help them all.”
15
The morning sun wove a tapestry of bright orange and yellow hues across the eastern sky, as seen from the ancient volcanic ridge. The ridge spanned the entire length of the island, from north to south, like the backbone of some primordial beast. Only the sound of Alton Burr’s CJ-5 disturbed the morning calm as it wove its way down the gravel access road.
Burr managed to retrace his route from the Bishamon compound. He now headed towards Guimar and Highway One, which would be the quickest route back to Santa Cruz. The loose and narrow gravel road had many dangerous turns with steep drop-offs that slowed their escape from the island’s high ridge of Mt. Blanco.
Eli saw that Maria was exhausted from the long dreadful night. She had drifted off into a restless sleep in the back seat, while Yashiro, lost in his thoughts, stared out the window.
As they rode, Eli conveyed to Burr what had transpired the night before. He spoke of Pencor’s plans to cause the landslide and unleash the tsunami on the United States.
“You can’t be serious,” Burr said incredulously at hearing the ominous plot recounted by Eli.
“I’m dead serious, Burr, and that fellow in the back seat will validate it. Hopefully, we will be able to stop this wild scheme. Pencor and Osama were more than willing to kill us all to protect his plans and you can bet he won’t give up easily.”
“I want to apologize to you for my boorish behavior yesterday when we met, Dr. Turner,” Burr lied, switching gears in hopes of getting Eli to disclose information about what he discovered in the tomb. “It’s a shame that they destroyed any chance of you discovering relevant artifacts. I’m sure you know of my beliefs and that my zealousness sometimes gets in the way of my desire to find the truth. I hope you understand.”
“Forget about it, Mr. Burr,” Eli countered. “I didn’t exactly help matters much myself. The good news is that we were able to recover another important document from the tomb before Osama’s men showed up. Once we get this mess taken care of, we’re going to search La Palma for the discovery of a lifetime.”
“If I can be of any assistance to you, Dr. Turner, I’d be more than happy to help you in your quest,” Burr continued in his deception. “My private helicopter is at your disposal.”
“I just might take you up on—” his answer was cut short by the explosive shattering of the rear window in the Jeep by a barrage of bullets.
“It’s Osama’s men,” Yashiro yelled, looking out the gaping hole that used to be a window and seeing a black SUV closing in on them.
“Get down!” Maria yelled, snapped awake by the assault and pushing Yashiro to the side. “Those guys just won’t give up.”
“They will not stop until we are all dead,” the tiny Japanese man replied in frustration as he hunkered down in his seat.
“Under my seat, there’s a gun,” Burr yelled at Eli as he sped up in an effort to put more distance between them and their pursuers.
Eli fished under his seat and came up with Burr’s Glock 9mm pistol.
“Give it to me, Dr. Turner. I have a clear view from the back,” Maria said.
Eli pulled back the chamber of the Glock, loading the weapon, and handed it to her. Burr slowed the vehicle to negotiate a sharp curve to the right. This allowed the SUV to gain ground on them while Maria sprang up and fired two shots at the menacing vehicle. One bullet harmlessly ricocheted off its bumper, while the other put a hole in the upper left corner of the front windshield. The SUV backed off momentarily, and then began to close the gap once again. Maria took aim and started firing. She emptied the clip as the SUV swerved back and forth in a defensive mode, receiving little damage.
“God, I hate guns!” she yelled in frustration, handing the gun to Eli in the front seat. “Is there any more ammo?”
“That’s all, miss. I don’t usually get into running gun fights,” Burr yelled above the noise. He took the next curve a bit too fast and fish-tailed the rear of the Jeep, almost spinning the vehicle out of control.
“That was close, Burr,” Eli said looking behind and seeing the ominous vehicle still on their tail. “They can take these curves better than us with the weight of their vehicle. It’s only a matter of time before they catch us.”
“We have to lose them somehow,” Burr responded, regaining control of the Jeep and speeding down a straightaway towards the next turn.
“It’s only another seven miles to Guimar and the main highway,” Maria said from the back seat.
“We’ll never make it before they catch us,” Burr said as he came around the next sharp turn in the road. Coming out of the turn, Burr spotted a road leading off the access road to the right. He quickly applied the brakes and spun onto the smaller road in an effort to lose the oncoming assailants.
“No!” Maria yelled in anguish. “This road leads to a stone quarry. There’s no way out.”
“Damn it!” Burr yelled in anger as he headed up the small road to the quarry, which sat upon a hill overlooking the eastern slope of Tenerife. “Maybe we can get help there,” he said fearfully. Eli looked behind them. The big SUV that originally passed the turn was now backing up and following them onto the road to the stone quarry.
Two quarry night shift workers noticed the Jeep coming up the steep gravel road. Thinking that it was part of the day shift reporting for work, they went back to their duties monitoring the portable cone crusher, protected from its deafening noise by the ear protection they wore.
Burr finally reached the old facility at the top of the rise and drove up to the main entrance next to the cone crusher building. He slammed on the brakes and slid the vehicle to a halt just as the black SUV reached the summit. It stopped one hundred fifty feet away from them.
“Get out of the Jeep, now!” Eli yelled, throwing the door open and jumping out. He ran to the facility’s main door only to find it locked. He pounded on the door as the others finally reached him. Unfortunately, the deafening sound of the CAT diesel engines that ran the plant drowned out any hope of anyone hearing him beat on the rusty, steel door.
“They can’t hear with all this noise,” Eli yelled as he turned to see the two men climbing out of the back of the SUV, while two remained in the front. Eli and the others froze in their tracks as the men slowly approached and leveled their weapons at them.
Eli tugged on the rim of his hat defiantly and said, “Maria, I’m going to make a run for it. I want you and the others to make a dash for the Jeep and try to get around them.”
“Run to where? This whole place is surrounded by chain-link fence,” Burr yelled in panic as the two Yakuza mercenaries closed in for the kill, taking aim at the helpless group.
Their deadly intent was suddenly interrupted by a noise that overwhelmed the loud quarry diesels. They quickly turned; surprised to see the Big Iron Sikorsky rising up from the ridge beside them. The two guards calmly waved to the chopper thinking they were sent help from the Bishamon facility. The hovering craft spun on its axis, revealing to them the open loading bay and a man aiming a monstrous 50-caliber machine gun at them.
As the Sikorsky swung around to face the SUV, Josh Turner saw the two men raise their weapons at him. Pulling the trigger, he quickly unleashed the deadly firepower of the Herstal 50-caliber machine gun. Splintering bone and flesh, the two men were instantly torn apart by the two hundred rounds-per-minute discharge of the frightening weapon. Turner, furious at seeing his father and Maria so helpless against these murderers, then turned the weapon on the big SUV and unleashed its steel-jacketed fury. The vehicle was shredded inside and out by the Herstal’s horrific firepower; pieces of metal and blood stained glass flew everywhere from the lethal onslaught.
Turner, shaken by what just transpired, stared at the shattered remains of the vehicle and what was left of the two mercenaries lying at its side.
“For what?” he whispered silently as Captain Saune swung the helicopter around for a quick landing on the quarry compound. “You died for what?” He let go of the gun, weary of this nightmare, and wishing it would end.
As the big chopper set down, Turner ran down the loading ramp to greet his father, who was running over to join him.
“Are you all okay?” Turner asked in a weary voice as Maria, Yashiro, and Burr followed the elder Turner.
“We’re fine, Son,” he replied, seeing the distressed, weary look on his son’s face. “Another minute, Josh, and those goons would have done us in for sure. Those guys definitely weren’t here just to talk.”
Maria reached for the younger Turner and hugged him tightly as she cried tears of relief.
“It’s alright, Maria. No one is going to hurt you. We’re going to get out of here now,” he said softly as she trembled in his arms. “Go into the chopper,” he said to the rest of the group, motioning them to the loading ramp.
“You had to do it, Josh,” the elder Turner said gently to his son. He put his arm around his shoulder as they walked towards the waiting aircraft. “They didn’t leave you any other choice, Son. It was either them, or all of us.”
“I’m just tired of the killing, Dad. When is it all going to end?” Turner replied as they reached the safety of the helicopter's cargo bay. Samuel, in the flight deck, activated the stow switch on the loading ramp, removing from view, the grizzly scene outside.
“You saved us all, Son. I’m proud of you,” Eli said in an effort to comfort his son. “When we get back to Santa Cruz, we’ll get help to expose Pencor and Osama’s dirty plans, and we’ll be done with all of this.”
“Hey, amigo,” Samuel yelled, coming to the rear from the flight deck of the helicopter. “The Captain says he’s going to take us to his Guardia Civil base in La Laguna where we can get a hold of the authorities.” He then plopped down in one of the many crew seats in the rear of the craft.
“I’m afraid this isn’t over; not by a long shot, Dad,” Turner said. “I’m sure that they will have men scouring the island looking for us after they realize we’ve escaped. We have to find a safe place to regroup. Professor Santiago’s house at the university is our best bet. We will go there and then decide what our next move is going to be.”
“But, Son, the authorities can—”
“Dad, from what Yashiro has told us, they will never react in time to stop the landslide on La Palma,” he said, interrupting his father.
A weary Josh Turner sat down next to Samuel and closed his eyes, endeavoring to wipe out the images of death engrained in his mind. All sat in silence as the noise of the huge Sikorsky filled the void of the large cargo bay, each of them wondering what the next few hours would bring.
16
Puerto Naos, La Palma Island
It was another tranquil island morning on the western beachfront of La Palma, with scores of tourists enjoying their breakfast at the Los Tilos restaurant located in the Sol La Palma Hotel. The four-star establishment, built in 1999, was renowned for its luxurious amenities, beautifully decorated suites, and world class din
ing.
Located in the midst of a banana plantation, just off the Calle Del Remo highway, the luxury hotel offered its guests a lavish view of its black volcanic sand beaches along with panoramic excursions to the natural parks on the island for the more adventurous.
The tourist and locals went about their daily lives, while waiters of the Los Tilos hustled back and forth serving a variety of breakfast dishes to its many guests. A slender, dark-haired woman, fit from years of rugged work, sat alone looking out the restaurant window to the blackened beaches below.
Wearing her trademark Timberland hiking boots, Massachusetts Institute of Technology jersey, and jeans, Rosalie Harris sipped her herbal tea as she pressed the cell phone to her ear.
The Sol La Palma had been her home for the last two weeks, while she and the film crew for the National Geographic Channel filmed their documentary. She was pleased with all the amenities that the TV channel had lavished on her as a perk for acquiring her particular talent, but felt a bit uncomfortable in these luxurious surroundings.
‘Rugged Rosalie’, as she was known to her co-workers and friends, was a seasoned field scientist with the U.S. Geological Survey. With over twenty years of experience, her job sent her all over the world, climbing in and out of dormant and active volcanoes. Rosalie's current assignment, not by her own choice, was acting as scientific consultant for the documentary, providing filmed interviews and on-the-scene accounts, which she felt rather uncomfortable doing.
Rosalie now tapped her fingers impatiently as the hold signal on the phone clicked relentlessly, just as it had for the last five minutes. She took another sip of tea, recounting the unsettling occurrences that had transpired over the last few days while filming on the Cumbre Vieja fault line on the western flank of the island.
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