Chain Reaction

by Don Pendleton

  He felt his cell phone vibrate. It was on silent, as always when he was tracking someone. Clayton unclipped it from his belt and answered.

  “Tell me something good.”

  It was Delaware.

  No preamble.

  Always direct.

  “The satchel signal is moving. It definitely proves Cooper survived the crash. We have him ahead of us, and we’re closing in.”

  “Cooper I want alive. If the women is still with him and ends up dead, I can’t say I’ll be concerned. It would be helpful if she was able to tell us what she knows, but your priority is Cooper. And the diamonds.”

  “Understood,”

  “Be certain about that. And make sure your men understand, as well. If I end up viewing Cooper’s dead body, someone will be sorry.”

  Delaware shut down her phone, dismissing Clayton.

  He knew she was not making idle threats. She never did. She always made good on her promises. If he and his team fouled up, it would most likely be best if they didn’t go back.

  Clayton waved his arm. “Let’s move. Let’s get this done. Delaware wants the man alive. Remember that.”

  “Hell, what do we do if he takes a killing shot at us?” one of his team asked. “Delaware sitting on her butt giving orders doesn’t mean Cooper will play ball.”

  “High bonuses don’t mean shit if we’re standing targets,” one of the other men said.

  “We take Hegre’s money, we play to his rules. Or Delaware’s to be exact.”

  “Jerry, that’s just crap. Following rules doesn’t stop a bullet if we have to hold back.”

  “Between you and me,” Clayton said, “I don’t figure on getting killed either. If we have to make a choice, Cooper’s dead. We try to take him alive but not if it means putting ourselves in his sights. Wound him if you can. If not, drop the bastard. Same goes for the FBI woman. I never liked the Feds anyway.”

  Clayton checked the handheld tracker. He jabbed a finger in the direction it indicated.

  The team moved out, following Clayton’s lead as they pushed through the dense forest, minds concentrating on their target. They were moving away from the Hegre base where the plane would have landed. Clayton, seeing the direction Cooper was taking, assessed the man’s line of travel. He was heading toward the coast and most likely the city of Baler. If he reached it, he would be able to get help. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. Not with that satchel of diamonds. Delaware would be angry enough of they lost the man—she would go ballistic if the cache of diamonds was lost, as well.

  From what he knew about this area, there was little between where they were and Baler. Nothing but forest and more forest. The guy they were pursuing was going to have to depend on nothing but his own skills. Though, from what he knew about the man, Cooper might not need anything else. The guy had broken free during the flight from China, taken down the armed crew and jumped from the plane, along with the FBI agent and a satchel of diamonds. Considering that, Clayton had revised his opinion. Cooper was no quitter. He sounded like a seasoned fighter and taking the guy might prove a hell of a task.

  He failed to hold back a wry smile.

  Take him alive, Delaware had ordered.

  That could prove to be some job.

  “Move it up,” he called out. “We’re not on a fucking country hike.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The first shots were off target, possibly warning shots offering them the chance to surrender. They had already spotted the armed men closing in on them. Bolan saw it was time to take evasive action while there was still distance between them. He motioned for Mitchell to stay at his side as he guided them into the deepest cover he could see. Once they were hidden, he pushed the FBI agent to her knees, took the diamond satchel from her and dropped it to the ground. He had counted four armed men moving through the forest in their direction.

  “These guys are moving in for the kill. I don’t want them to gain any advantage. When they’re in range, we hit them hard.” Bolan caught Mitchell’s eye. “You understand what I’m saying? Us or them. It’s come to that, so we make sure we’re the ones left standing.”

  “We go in hard. I got that.”

  Mitchell checked her Glock. She would have admitted to being nervous. Her hand holding the Glock showed a slight tremble.

  Bolan gestured for her to move a few feet to one side, extending their field of fire.

  They held their positions as the trailing group continued to shorten the distance. Bolan wanted them well inside the firing range of the Glock pistols. He raised his weapon when he saw the lead guy pause and glance at a gadget he held in his left hand. He scanned something, then raised a hand to bring his people to a stop, the motioned them back.

  Bolan understood. The reason clicked into his mind even as the opposing group made their two-step retreat.

  The guy had some kind of tracking device in his hand, a device that told him his prey had halted close by.

  A tracking device.

  And to catch a signal there had to be an activated transmitter either on Bolan or Mitchell. But no one had gotten close enough to plant anything on them that would have gone unnoticed.

  Bolan’s gaze dropped to the satchel on the ground at his feet. That had to be the source, a transmitter placed inside the bag holding the diamonds. Most likely placed there in case the satchel was removed from Hegre’s possession, a safeguard so they could keep the diamonds secure. With Bolan snatching the satchel from under their noses he had allowed himself and Mitchell to be followed.

  “Cooper?”

  “They’ve got us on their radar,” Bolan said. “Most likely a tracking device in the satchel. The minute we jumped from the plane, they’ve been able to follow us.”

  Mitchell snapped her Glock around.

  “Incoming,” she said.

  Bolan saw the figure moving ahead steadily.

  “When you’re ready,” he said.

  His Glock cracked sharply, the sound loud in the confines of the forest, the shot reverberating. Bolan saw his target turn about, the .40-caliber slug taking him in the chest, left of center. There was enough impact to put the guy on his knees. He dropped his SMG and clutched at the wound seconds before Bolan’s follow-up shot slammed the side of his head and laid him facedown on the forest floor.

  The hit scattered the other shooters, but not fast enough as Mitchell caught one guy as he turned aside. Her shot caught him in the left side, splintering a couple of ribs, flattening before it went in deep. The guy stumbled, gripping the trunk of a tree as he attempted to stay on his feet.

  An SMG opened up, scattering tree bark and foliage as 9 mm slugs peppered the area. Now they were shooting for effect. No more warnings. A second weapon joined in, the chatter of autofire drowning out any other sounds.

  “Fall back. I’ll cover,” Bolan called.

  Mitchell immediately wriggled her way into the foliage, leaving Bolan to counter the autofire with his Glock. He held his low position, concealed by the tangled undergrowth, waited for his opening before he two-fisted the pistol and drew down on the armed figure edging into view from tree cover. Bolan’s twin shots hit the guy in his left hip, puncturing flesh and shattering bone. The guy let out a groan, dropping his SMG and clutching at his ruined hip as he slipped to the forest floor.

  Bolan snatched up the satchel and slung it over his left shoulder, falling back into the shadows to join up with Mitchell. She had taken up a defensive position, using the trunk of a thick hardwood tree. Her Glock was aimed back in the direction Bolan had come from.

  “We’re clear,” he said. “Let’s move on in case reinforcements show up.”

  * * *

  CLAYTON STARED AROUND him at the remnants of his team.

  One dead. The other two suffering from serious wounds
.

  As quick and easy as that?

  His team cut to pieces.

  Son of a bitch.

  He pulled out his comm set and called base.

  “Get through to the city. They’ll be heading for Baler. They don’t have anywhere else to go. Speak to Menendez. I want his guys moving out to intercept Cooper and the woman if they go that way. Yes, dammit, they caught us and chopped us up. I got one guy dead and two needing medical assistance. You think so? Right now Delaware is the least of my worries. I got my team down, and the first rule is you look after your people, so don’t tell me Delaware will be upset because I don’t give a rat’s ass. Just do it and send out the choppers. We need help.”

  Clayton ended his call. He had screwed his assignment, but he really didn’t give a damn about that.

  Or Hegre.

  Or Delaware.

  He just wanted his men to get medical attention.

  And then, when that had been taken care of, he would go after that bastard Cooper.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “If we find a road, maybe we can hitch a ride,” Mitchell said hopefully.

  They had been pushing through the forest, bodies aching and wet from sweating, for almost an hour. Bolan used his phone’s GPS to maintain their line of travel. Despite the canopy of greenery formed by the uppermost tree branches, the heat hit them hard. Twice they waded across flowing streams and though they splashed water in their faces and moistened their dry lips, Bolan advised against drinking it.

  “Not worth the risk,” he said. “It could be contaminated.”

  “You really know how to give a girl a good time, Cooper. First a lightning trip to China—I’ve spent longer at Disneyland—a ride on a private plane that fell out of the sky and now a forest trek in the Philippines.” She pushed her hands through her damp hair. “Lord, I must look like hell.”

  Bolan didn’t answer. He was staring up through the branches, his attention on the sky. Mitchell followed his lead and picked up what had alerted him.

  “Helicopter.”

  “And it’s circling in a search pattern. There’s a second one behind it.”

  Bolan caught her arm. He maintained their line of travel. It wouldn’t help them if they broke off from the direction they were going. The cover in the forest was the same whichever way they went, and the city of Baler might offer at least some diversion.

  Without warning they broke clear of the forest and into a wide natural meadow of high grass and ferns. Turning back was not an option. Veering from their designated line of travel would lead them toward the ground force they had clashed with earlier. Bolan could expect they had a backup team on the trail. Knowing the way Hegre operated, there would be additional guns on the ground. The organization had the money and resources.

  Right now Hegre was making a concentrated effort to get its diamonds back. The stones represented a major investment. The criminal group was not going to give up on recovering the cache. If Lise Delaware was running the operation, she would never give up. Knowing that the man she knew as Cooper was the person who had stolen Hegre’s diamonds, the young woman would pull out all the stops to retrieve them.

  He put thoughts of Delaware to the back of his mind, pausing to check the Glock before he squeezed Mitchell’s shoulder.

  “You set?”

  “To outrun a helicopter? Cooper, after everything you’ve put me through, I’m ready for anything. Just remind me—did I actually talk myself into teaming up with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When we get back I’ll volunteer for a psych evaluation.”

  “We head for that thick stand of brush first,” Bolan said. “We’ll use that cover to reassess. Make a zigzag run, and make it fast.”

  Mitchell understood his reasoning. An erratic course would make it harder for a shooter in the chopper to acquire a target.

  God, what am I thinking, Mitchell chided herself. Make it harder for the shooter. Just bail and run into the open. Some choice.

  Mitchell shut down her mind and broke from cover, heading across the open stretch, because regardless of anything else, there wasn’t much they could do to remove themselves from risk.

  The moment she stepped into the open she felt totally exposed.

  The beat of the rotors suddenly seemed that much louder. Mitchell didn’t look around. The last thing she wanted was to actually see the damned aircraft.

  She felt Bolan beside her, his easy stride keeping him in step. Mitchell was a good sprinter. Her regular gym workouts and daily jogs kept her in prime condition. The only difference was that normally she was not running for her life against hostiles in a helicopter.

  Mitchell failed to hear the first burst of gunfire. She didn’t miss the spurts of kicked up earth as the shots tore up gouts of dark earth and greenery. The firing was over in seconds as the helicopter swooped over her and Bolan, arcing to the right as it commenced a full turn prior to another run at them.

  As they kept up their zigzag course, Bolan saw the chopper swing away. For a few seconds it was broadside to them, close enough so he could see the faces of the occupants behind the Plexiglas bubble. He came to a dead stop, raised the Glock and fired three fast shots at the aircraft. He knew his chances were slim, that hitting a moving helicopter was way off the charts. He also knew he had to do something. Yet he saw his volley land at least a couple of hits, starring the Plexiglas in the cockpit. It caused the pilot to veer away in a clumsy turn that took the aircraft clear of their position; it was not a crippling shot, but enough to force the pilot to move away.

  Mitchell was at his side, her mouth opening to speak.

  She had no chance.

  They were still moving forward, keeping the retreating helicopter in sight, when the ground opened up beneath their feet and they tumbled into empty space.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The chopper had swung overhead, and Jerry Clayton saw the rope snake down. It had just reached Clayton when the second helicopter appeared and dropped a couple of fast ropes. The backup team slid down and joined him. Two armed guys. The ropes were wound up, and the newcomers helped Clayton maneuver the first wounded guy into the canvas sling at the end of the first rope. They watched the man being drawn up and pulled into the chopper. They repeated the procedure with the second wounded man. The aircraft turned and headed back to base.

  The second chopper swung away to make aerial recon on Cooper and the FBI woman. As it flashed out of sight overhead, Clayton spoke to the crew over his comm set.

  “If you see them, lay down fire to hold them until we reach you.”

  He gestured to his new team. “Let’s do this. Grab this pair and get back to base.”

  The three pushed forward through the forest, eyes alert for signs of their prey.

  He wanted to get his hands on Cooper. Badly. Clayton didn’t like being bested by anyone, and especially by one man and a female agent. When he got Cooper, disarmed and hogtied, there would be some personal satisfaction to be exacted. The bastard would be alive when he was handed over to Lise Delaware, but he was going to be one sore son of a bitch.

  Over his years as a mercenary, Clayton had learned some nasty techniques that let prisoners suffer yet remain alive. Why the hell should Delaware have all the damn fun? he thought. She was sitting in comfort somewhere while he was slogging through the bad-ass Filipino jungle.

  Minutes later he heard a voice coming over his comm set from the chopper.

  “We spotted them ahead of us. You’ll break out of the trees anytime. Big open stretch. Shit, Jerry, they’ve got no cover. Sittin’ ducks. Hell, this is a friggin’ duck shoot. I could blow them away no problem...”

  “Hell, no, Sprague, do like I told you. Pin the mothers down but do not kill them. You hear? They need to be alive.”

  �
��Yes, sir,” Sprague hollered. “Now here we go...”

  Clayton heard the chatter of the helicopter’s 7.62 mm machine gun as Sprague unleashed a burst. He could hear the chopper crew whooping and laughing.

  Then the raucous yelling stopped.

  There was silence, followed by gunfire and a cracking sound.

  “Son of a bitch hit us!“ Sprague screamed. “Hit the damned side window. Get out of range.”

  Clayton heard the helicopter’s engine scream as it was hurled into a tight turn.

  “What the fuck...” Sprague said. “Where the hell did they go? You see ’em, Pete?”

  The pilot’s voice came over the comm set. “No. I...they just vanished...just disappeared.”

  “What is he, the Invisible Man?” Clayton yelled. “He doesn’t just vanish. Go around. Find him...”

  “Bring her around,” Sprague said to the pilot, “then set her down. Those bastards can’t have gone far. Clayton isn’t far behind. We’ll flush ’em out. We owe ’em for shooting up the bird.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It happened too fast for them to avoid. One minute they were moving forward at a steady pace. The next the ground opened up beneath them and they dropped, falling into an empty void down a near-vertical hole that ended in a mound of tumbled dry earth. More soil cascaded around and onto them. The accidental fall into the hole had probably saved their lives, taking them out of the helicopter’s fire zone.

  Bolan groaned as dull aches invaded his body. The shifting soil and stones slid away as he moved, sifting down across his face. He tasted dirt in his mouth and spit it out, feeling the grit against his teeth. He drew his arms under him and pushed. More dirt slid away from him.

  A muffled sound reached him.

  “Mitchell? Are you hurt?”

  “Why would I be hurt? I fell down a hole and was covered in a ton of dirt and rocks.”

  Bolan pushed himself into a sitting position, then stood, slapping at the soil clinging to him. With his eyes having become accustomed to the gloom, he could see Mitchell a few yards away, standing up herself and shaking her own covering of dirt from her clothing. He crossed to her and they stared at each other for a few seconds.