The team dispersed and went to complete the final preparations. Fitzduane walked across to Shadow Three, where Kathleen lay sedated and wrapped in a sleeping bag against the night cold. He put his arms around her and held her close. Then he kissed her and hugged her again.
"Half from me and half from Boots," he said. "We missed you, little love. But now you're back and you're safe."
"I knew you'd come, Hugo," said Kathleen sleepily. "I knew you'd come — and you have. I love you, Hugo. I never stopped thinking about you. And it made it all right, you know. Truly. It was terrible, but it was all right. I was strong. I was..."
Fitzduane tried to smile. It was difficult, because he was crying. All right! Jesus Christ! Kathleen looked terrible and he did not want to think about what she had been through. The baby? It would be too much to hope for. He did not ask.
He hugged her again and held her. "I love you, Kathleen," he said over and over again. She was already asleep; the drugs had won out.
Chifune was guarding Shadow Three. He took her hand briefly between his, and she smiled.
"All the way," she said. And there were tears in her eyes.
"Always," said Fitzduane. "Always..."
They looked at each other. There was no need to speak. They had never been closer.
"Let's go," said Fitzduane.
The convoy of four Guntracks moved out. Their next destination was the pickup point — and airborne to home.
* * * * *
Tecuno, Mexico
Governor Diego Quintana's mercenaries were mainly Mexican but included soldiers from many nations.
Major Khalifa Sherrif's country of birth was Libya. Major Sherif was not without military talent, but his map-reading skills were minimal. He could get lost crossing the street, which was why currently he was within striking distance of the Arkono airstrip instead of a hundred kilometers to the west as his original orders dictated.
Normally he could rely on his adjutant to keep him more or less on course, but a shotgun blast from one recalcitrant peasant had put paid to that convenient solution and had also fucked up Major Sherrif's one and only map of this dreadful area.
He had been fast asleep when the new orders came in, and he did not take kindly to being roused so abruptly. His mood took a sharp turn for the worse when he heard that he was to prepare for action and that he was to hand over command to the Japanese woman called Reiko Oshima.
THAT WOMAN! It was unbelievable. Women had their place in his particular world, but so did camels and dust and crawly things he did not even want to think about, and he only calmed down slightly when his ever-reliable sergeant brought him hot sweet tea.
A Mi-4 Hound helicopter beat its way through the darkness and landed to the side of the armored column in a haze of dust. He sipped his tea again as he waited for this Amazon to emerge and found that he was not sipping grit.
Two minutes later, he found that his command tank and his bloodstained map had been commandeered and he had been packed into the back of an APC like a common private.
With Reiko Oshima in the lead tank, the column headed at full speed for the Funnel, the narrowing valley that led to the airstrip. The hound had already taken off again to scout the terrain.
The column was able to make excellent time. All vehicles and the helicopter were equipped with active infrared searchlights that projected a beam that was invisible to the naked eye but showed up as illumination to anyone wearing the right goggles. It was an effective enough technique unless your opponent had infrared detection capability, in which case it was like driving along with full headlights on. You could see where you were going, but then everyone could see you — and from a considerable distance away.
Twenty minutes later, when the column was within just a few kilometers of the Funnel, a radio message came in from the helicopter that a cloud of dust heading at high speed toward the old airstrip had been sighted.
Reiko Oshima felt a surge of optimism and passed the order to prepare for action to her new command. The enemy, whoever they were, had every reason to believe that, in the middle of this vast empty space, no one would ever think of one long-abandoned airstrip among dozens built by the oilmen more than a decade ago.
Unfortunately for them, Reiko Oshima had scouted Arkono airstrip as a possible base for Yaibo only a year back and she knew the strip and the surrounding terrain intimately. She was also, she considered, getting to know her enemy.
The Arkono strip was not an obvious choice, but it would do — which made it a strong possibility. Other units were fanning out to cover other locations.
* * * * *
The black silhouette of the Funnel showed up in the distance, and Fitzduane thought of Calvin and how nice it would be to be able to check the valley and its environs from the air before entering their confines.
For all they knew, the valley now contained hostiles waiting to shoot them up. It was a near-perfect choke point. Nearly a kilometer wide on the way in, it narrowed to less than a hundred meters as it approached the airstrip. The Funnel was well-named.
He banished wishful thinking and focused entirely on the task at hand. He had a feeling he was missing some obvious move or precaution. He checked his watch and ran through the plan of the final stages of the exfiltration and the various contingencies and options. There was something there, he was sure of it, but what?
He switched to the Team Rapier radio net and pressed the transmit button. There was now less than twenty minutes to go before the pickup time, and they had reached the stage when speed was more important than running silent. "Rapier Team, this is Shadow One. Deactivate super traps and increase to sixty."
The diamond-shaped fighting group of four Guntracks surged ahead as the sound-suppression units were deactivated. The increased speed would be hell for the wounded, but the alternatives would be a great deal worse.
There was a sudden flash from the sky as the Mi-4 Hound turned on its infrared searchlight and swooped to try to see what this mysterious enemy consisted of. Reports had suggested armed jeeps, but no one seemed quite sure, and the armored column desperately needed more intelligence.
"Bomburst!" said Fitzduane, and instantly the four vehicles spread in four directions. "Shadow One will take it."
Heavy machine-gun fire arched up at the helicopter from three Guntracks while Shadow One halted and Al Lonsdale aimed a Starburst surface-to-air missile.
Green tracer and rocket fire from the helicopter plowed into the ground around the fleeing Guntracks, but the small black vehicles were extremely hard to hit. They were very fast and changed direction constantly, and clouds of smoke and dust confused the issue.
The helicopter's infrared searchlight showed up in Lonsdale's night-vision goggles like an arrow pointing toward a target.
Seconds later the searchlight vanished as machine-gun fire from the ground blew it apart, but he could still see the big machine through the Starburst's six-power sights.
Shoulder-launched surface-to-air missiles were not foolproof, and the pilot knew that the Stinger, to give the example he was most familiar with, could be outmaneuvered under some circumstances and that its range was limited. However, in this case the Mi-4 Hound's pilot was more scared of the known threat of Reiko Oshima than of the unknown; and he had been ordered to find out what they were up against or not come back . And he was also up against a missile that did not need a heat source to make a hit. The Starburst was optically guided by a low-power laser beam.
He did his duty. He had just finished describing one of the strange black tracked vehicles that he had caught in his infrared searchlight for a brief moment when the missile's proximity fuse ignited near the fuselage and slammed a shower of tungsten cubes into the fuel tank and rotor blades.
A fireball blossomed in the sky.
That bloody woman! the pilot thought before his world exploded.
* * * * *
"Re-form," said Fitzduane urgently. "Loose Deuce. Move! Move! Move!"
The four Gu
ntracks of Team Rapier re-formed in two teams of two, with one Guntrack on the right set back to its partner. It was a formation that would have been familiar to fighter pilots. The vehicle in front covered threats to the front. The Guntrack set back covered threats to the rear.
They had lost time in terrorist encounter with the helicopter. They had now increased the speed to one hundred kilometers an hour. Across the rough shale and rock of the ground, this was a grueling speed even with air suspension. Weapons accuracy was affected. It was difficult — almost impossible — to use some of the advanced vision equipment because of the vibration. The engine noise had risen to a crescendo, and regularly the vehicles left the ground and hurtled through the air as they hit an undulation or a fissure.
For the wounded, it was agony. Fitzduane knew this and remembered what it had been like for him and the pain and sense of helplessness, and he hated what he was doing.
Through his night-vision goggles, he could see a glow ahead of him but to the left. His brain tired, he thought at first it might be the dawn and he was surprised because it seemed too early, and then he realized what he was seeing.
The glow was moving, and it must be coming from a column of vehicles heading for the entrance to the Funnel.
They were in a race, and the enemy column, although almost certainly slower, was sufficiently ahead of them for it to get there first.
He felt sick and then, for a brief moment, blindly angry, and then there were things to do and very little time for emotion.
"Shadow One to Eagle Leader," he said.
"Come in, Shadow One," said Kilmara. The sound quality was good. They were close.
Fitzduane could almost see the two Hercules C130 Combat Talons in their matte-black camouflage hurtling at contour-following height over the harsh terrain. The pilot and copilot and navigator would be wearing night-vision goggles and faces would be tired and strained from the long flight. There would be the steady throb and whine of turboprops. There would be the jolts and shocks that came from flying so close to the ground you were virtually in ground effect.
"Eagle Flight, what is your firepower status?" said Fitzduane.
"Both aircraft configured for Guntrack evacuation, so weapons load minimized," said Kilmara.
Fitzduane felt a sinking feeling and then realized that ‘minimized’ was a relative term in special-forces aviation. These people felt nervous if they did not have some serious firepower up their sleeve.
"Both aircraft have two GECAL fifties for ground suppression and other toys for the air," continued Kilmara, "but they do not have gunship status and are tasked for evac. I do not want to risk the evac, but state your thinking."
"We will only be evacuating three — I repeat THREE — Guntracks," said Fitzduane. "Shadow One will be staying on ground as tail-end Charlie. Accordingly, only one aircraft will need to land. Suggest second EAGLE adopt a ground suppression role. We have heavy company from the east."
Wait one, Shadow One," said Kilmara. He switched to the second Combat Talon and talked to the Bear. In less than a minute he was back to Fitzduane.
"Eagle Leader will land to evac," Kilmara said, "and Eagle Friend will carry out ground suppression. He can handle up to armored personnel carriers, but tanks could be a problem. Eagle Friend awaits your instructions. Please advise how crew of Shadow One plans to evac. I presume Skyhook."
"Affirmative on Skyhook," said Fitzduane. "But we will need maneuvering space. There are people down here who do not have our best interests at heart."
"Understood, Shadow One," said Eagle Friend. "We await your call." It was the Bear's voice.
Fitzduane looked at the approaching glow. He could now see a shitload of tanks and APCs. Worryingly, they were ignoring Team Rapier's convoy of Guntracks and were still heading hell-for-leather toward the Funnel. Someone too damn smart was in command.
Once the valley was blocked, the hostiles could pick off the Guntracks at their leisure.
* * * * *
Reiko Oshima felt excited as she rarely had before as her armored column thundered toward the Funnel.
There was the roar of the tank engine and the smell of oil and the wind against her face and the exhilaration of speed, and she felt, for the first time since this fracas had started, that she was going to end up on the winning side.
The helicopter pilot had delivered. She now knew that she was dealing with some kind of high-speed tracked vehicle and that there were four in the dust clouds off to the right.
They were obviously the advance guard. Given the scale of the damage that had been inflicted so far, it was clear that a larger force was involved, and she estimated that there were probably a further twenty or so following behind. Allowing four people to a vehicle crew — she thought commander, gunner, loader and driver per tank — that suggested an overall enemy force of about a hundred. That seemed to make sense. It also suggested that they would leave their vehicles behind when they evacuated or else that deserted strip at Arkono was going to be a busy little place for a while.
The important thing was that she had called it right. She had guessed the enemy's intentions and now she was beating this hostile force to the punch. The enemy tracks were faster, that was sure, but her force was ahead and was going to get there first.
And then there would be a killing ground. Retribution.
* * * * *
Fitzduane knew that this would be the last time that Team Rapier would be together, and for a brief moment he felt unaccountably sad and tired but also immensely proud.
There were few things more satisfying than to command a combat unit at its peak, and the people of Team Rapier had been the best, the very best. And now it was almost over, this courageous, audacious adventure, and he felt regret.
The moment passed. The immediate pressed on him.
"Shadow One to all," he said on the unit net, "Shadow Three will remain with me and fight the hostile column to a halt. Shadows Two and Five will head on through the Funnel and will evac. Shadow Three will join if possible.
"Move! Move! Move!"
Cochrane brought Shadow One to a halt and lowered the rear air springs, while Al Lonsdale loaded a six-round clip into the Dilger and aligned the laser sight. After the noise and buffeting of the high-speed advance, to be still and silent on this vast undulating space seemed strange.
Off to the right, Shadow Three advanced toward the column, firing on the move with its .50 GECAL. Its job was to draw fire while Fitzduane's vehicle killed tanks. Only the Dilger could do that with certainty at this range.
The two other Guntracks sped into the distance. Both vehicles were overloaded and carrying wounded and really in no condition to fight unless there was no other option. Shadow Two carried Chifune, Geronimo Grady, and Dana Felton as crew, together with the wounded Chuck Freeman and the drugged Kathleen and Steve Kent's body. Shadow Five carried Oga, Brick Stephens, and Ross Gallini, with Ernesto Robles and Calvin injured.
Al Lonsdale's night-vision equipment pierced the darkness and aligned the Dilger on the lead tank.
He fired.
A tongue of flame jetted from the muzzle and the whole Guntrack rocked with the recoil.
Two seconds later he fired again, and then kept on firing until he had exhausted a second clip. The second clip.
Twelve rounds. The Dilger was now out of ammunition.
"Move! Move! Move!" said Fitzduane, and Cochrane started raising the air springs and roared away. The springs completed their adjustment on the move.
Two seconds after they had left their firing position, tank shells plowed into the evacuated space, and rock and shale fountained into the air.
* * * * *
There was a crack and Oshima's tank, roaring forward at full speed, suddenly lurched to the left, lost forward momentum, and started rotating on its own axis.
The driver's hatch opened and he leaned over the right side of the tank, then looked up at Reiko Oshima. "We've been hit. The track's gone and we're a sitting target. We'd bett
er get out."
Oshima drew her pistol and shot him in the head, then pointed the gun at the gunner. "Does the tank still work?"
He nodded.
"Well, then stay here and fight the tank or you'll join that coward."
The loader slammed in an HE round and the gunner rotated the turret and fired. Oshima could see the flash of the impact explosion in the distance.
The infrared searchlight shattered as machine-gun rounds hit it. A further burst spanged off the armor.
Oshima hauled herself out of the turret and looked for a replacement tank. She was appalled at what she saw. The powerful column of nineteen armored vehicles that had followed her was now strewn with flaming and exploding vehicles, and as she watched, there was a row of small explosions in the ground as if a machine gun was being hosed onto a target and then an armored personnel carrier in the direct line of fire blew up.
Burning figures ran into the darkness and collapsed, and the air was rent with screams.
A hundred meters away, a T55 fired its main gun and then reversed. She ran after it, waving.
An armored personnel carrier was spraying the darkness with its heavy machine gun. The gunner could see nothing because his infrared searchlight had been shot out, but he fired steadily until the ammunition box ran out. Incoming machine-gun fire caught him as he was attempting a barrel change and blew out his throat.
A black shape shot out of the darkness and there was an enormous explosion from the armored carrier, and a huge hole appeared in its side as if it had been hit by an artillery shell.
Two tanks maneuvering in opposite directions collided, then the commander's hatches opened and the two commanders started swearing at each other.
An explosive grenade hit one commander and blew his torso into pieces, showering the second man with blood and body parts. He dropped back into his cupola, banged the hatch shut, and reversed rapidly.
The air seemed to be full of flying metal. Oshima had never seen anything like it. This was not conventional machine-gun and cannon fire but some other, much more lethal, system.
Fitzduane 03 - Devil's Footprint, The Page 35
