"The son of a bitch has found it, baby sister. You were right; I should have hit the alarm when you first broached Alexander's actions about the upper Stikine, I just didn't put it all together."
"What's he going to do with what he finds?" Lynn asked.
"If he's doing what I believe he's capable of, there could be a civil war brewing, and we're bound to be caught up in it."
"Jack, when we saw that Punchy had turned bad at the agency, we only thought he was involved in the separatist movement in Quebec. If it's not financing he wants, what in the hell is he here for?"
"Your boss at CIA should have let you in on something that used to be above your pay grade, baby sis. He's after Solar Flare."
Lynn knew the code name. She always thought it was a military myth, something that was used to make agents have sleepless nights during training.
"What does Alexander need you for?"
Collins knew that everyone being held by Alexander, Sagli, and Deonovich were now pawns in a game that Jack knew he couldn't win — at least until he knew the rules of that game. They would kill every one of them, and Collins knew there wasn't anything he could do but cooperate.
"The item he's looking for, the one the president, your boss and mine, only suspected he was after… well, he needs me to use the damnable thing. Jesus, that bomb is here somewhere."
"You and he were on a joint mission to recover it years ago? He knows you have something he needs."
"Yes, he needs me, but he doesn't need you, or them" — he nodded toward his friends—"anymore."
Lynn became silent as she thought about the trouble she had gotten her brother into just because she happened upon Alexander hacking NSA communications two years before. She shook her head in the pouring rain.
Jack leaned against Lynn and just took her in. He was happy she was alive and that was a good starting point.
"Hey, Jack?" Lynn asked through the pouring rain, and hoping to make the situation somewhat lighter.
"What?" he asked as the Russians arrived to take him back to Everett and the others.
"You have a girlfriend?"
Collins rolled his eyes as he was roughly lifted from the wet ground by the angry Spetsnaz and Jack looked down upon Lynn just as she looked up.
"Go back into your tent, at least you have one, brat!"
WAHACHAPEE FISHING CAMP
Marla and Sarah, with Jason limping along in the middle and being supported by the two women broke into the small clearing and saw the first of the four large Sikorsky helicopters. They ran toward the nearest one, stumbling and tripping until Jason literally bounced off one of the main landing gear and then rebounded to the ground out of breath.
"Now's not the time, Jason," Sarah said, out of breath herself, but pulling at Ryan nonetheless. Marla was looking around the clearing, not liking the absolute stillness of it as the far-off lightning illuminated the clearing and cast eerie shadows in all directions.
"We have to hurry, they're here," Marla said reaching up and pulling down the staircase.
That was all Ryan had to be reminded of as he pulled himself up and stumbled over to the folding steps. He crawled inside and then rose in the middle of the tight aisle, using the seats to help support him. Marla followed Sarah, and that was when she stopped and looked back out of the chopper, then she tried to exit the Sikorsky.
"The weapons, I dropped them by the door," she shouted back at Marla.
Marla continued to block her way.
"Leave them, the animals won't differentiate between us and the attackers anymore. They have their blood up."
"Jesus, are they animals or humans?" Sarah asked as she turned away angry.
"They're both," Marla said as she started to get frustrated. Tears were starting to form in her eyes. "They fall back on instinct in violent situations. My father and grandfather have seen them tear a grizzly to pieces."
"Great," Sarah said as she gave up and turned toward the cockpit of the expensive helicopter.
Ryan had managed to squeeze himself into the pilot's left seat. He was studying the control panel when Sarah entered and pulled herself into the copilot's seat.
"Just like old times, huh?" Sarah asked just to take her mind off of grizzly bears getting torn to pieces.
Ryan looked over at McIntire and shook his head. "Attempting to fly a Blackhawk was easy. Look at this thing, it's an executive model Sikorsky that assumes the pilot's an expert. This is fucking nuts… I never have the time to study anything before some idiot asks me to fly it!"
Sarah understood where Ryan was coming from as she looked at the thousand gauges and switches that lined not only the front console but the overhead as well. Still, she was shocked when Ryan reached out and flipped two switches, which produced a loud whine.
"There, at least I got the preheaters online. Okay, we're in the red, turbines are coming up."
"Are you sure?" Sarah asked as everything on the main-control panel started flashing, blue, green, and red.
"No, for all I know I could have selected auto-destruct in that sequence of switches."
Sarah relaxed when she saw through the windscreen that the four bladed rotors slowly start to turn.
"Well, evidently you hit something!"
Marla squeezed between the pilots seats and pointed out of the window to the left.
"Look!"
When Ryan and Sarah both turned their attention on the tree line, they saw one of their Russian assailants break free at a dead run. He was waving his arms wildly trying to get the crew of the helicopter's attention. Then their eyes widened when something stopped just short of entering the clearing. The animal was huge and blended almost perfectly with its surroundings. They would never have seen it had they not been looking at the blank space behind the Russian at that precise moment.
"Should we let him in?" Sarah asked, unsnapping her seatbelt.
"No!" Marla said defiantly. "He may have been the one that shot my grandmother," she coldly said as she pushed Sarah back into her seat. "He may have injured one of the animals by shooting wildly; besides, he'll never make it. Look."
As they watched, another animal bolted from the trees to the man's left. Another streak of lightning brightened the clearing and Ryan and Sarah saw the legend for the first time.
The Russian commando saw the burst of motion from his peripheral vision and tried to veer away from the collision that was imminent, but he was far too slow. The massive beast struck the man and sent him flying, but before he could strike the ground, another of the massive creatures, moving at unbelievable speed, came from nowhere and struck the Spetsnaz again, pinwheeling him back into the sky. Then the one that they had seen standing at the tree line burst from cover and caught the man in its long and muscular arms, and angrily threw him toward the Sikorsky. The three occupants in the cockpit flinched when the man hit the slowly turning rotor blades and caromed off onto the ground.
"Oh, god," Sarah said, "we can't leave him like that!"
Marla again restrained her from rising.
"Leave him, he's our only chance of getting out of here. They are in a blood frenzy, one of them must have been hurt by these murdering bastards!"
Sarah turned away as the first creature slowly ambled into the clearing. Ryan watched in amazement as the engines of the Sikorsky ramped up to idle power. The beast was almost invisible as it advanced with its long strides. The head was large and the torso long and powerfully built. The arms were long and massive, the muscles bristling under the coat of dark hair. The legs were not as short as a normal ape would have been, they were long and well proportioned. The muscles in the legs were that of a well-built man. The Sasquatch walked completely upright and had no slouch at all. The giant's hands and arms swung easily at its sides and the gait was tremendous. It covered the seventy yards in just twenty strides.
"Look at its hair," Sarah said, turning toward the scientist inside of her, more for protection against the fear she was feeling than because of her studies. "It
shimmers, like it's taking on the contours of its surroundings."
Ryan was flabbergasted as he watched the beast approach. The hair was thicker in some places more than others. The hair was light in areas, dark in some, and with these natural colors, it took on light and shadow and made it difficult to see against any backdrop — a natural camouflage that any military would have been envious of. If it weren't for the growing light show in the sky, they would be hard-pressed to follow its progress toward them and the downed man.
"That's why they are never seen; they are masters at camouflaging themselves with their environment — the muscle movement below their fur, or hair, ripples at a simple suggestion from its brain, and the shadows created by those differing movements of muscles are able to increase and decrease, creating shadows and valleys, making their outline almost impossible to see."
"I hate to break up this National Geographic moment here, but that thing is coming right for us," Ryan said as he tried desperately to find the collective handle that allowed the helicopter to rise into the air.
"This model doesn't have a collective; the throttle is on the stick!" Marla said as she pointed. "The Mounties told me a little about them a long time ago."
Ryan found the throttle on the stick in front of him and twisted it. With no collective like older models, Ryan tried to apply power. The helicopter started to rise, but he pushed the stick forward too soon and the nose dipped, almost sending the spinning rotors into the hard ground in front of them.
"Oh, shit," he said as he pulled back just as the beast ducked and barely avoided the blades. "Sorry, I didn't try to do that!" Ryan said almost apologetically to the great beast now standing and looking through the glass at the three people in the helicopter.
The Sasquatch roared and then bent down and retrieved the Russian by the leg and lifted the bleeding man off the ground. The animal tossed it into the tree line as easily as a rag doll and then watched as the Sikorsky finally started gaining altitude, rising above the trees.
"Okay, I'm an asshole for not believing you. Later I'll hold still for you and you can kick my ass!" Ryan shouted, getting the cold chills from the closeness of their encounter.
"I'm so glad I could convince you," Marla said as she turned away from the cockpit and sat in the first row of seats.
Sarah looked over at Ryan and patted his arm, and then looked back through the opening and watched as the death of her grandmother finally caught up with the young girl. She was looking out of the window to her left at the retreating fishing camp below, crying into the glass.
11
RUSSIAN BASE CAMP
NORTH OF THE STIKINE RIVER
Jack and the others watched the comings and goings of Sagli, Deonovich, and their newest partner in crime, Punchy Alexander, as they entered and exited the technician's tent. The Spetsnaz, while paying particular attention to the American captives, made ready their weapons and other equipment for their planned foray into the upper reaches of the Stikine Valley from their tents, while some of the more unseasoned regular army misfits walked the perimeter around the camp.
They were all still bound with their hands behind their backs, but at least the Russians had placed a tarp over them that kept all but their butts dry. Will Mendenhall had regained some of his senses, but was in a foul mood because of the refreshed memory of Doc Ellenshaw's meaningless death, and Jack could see it in the black man's eyes. That was the one failing of the young lieutenant — he found it hard at times to place his personal feelings aside and concentrate on what was at hand. Jack knew this trait because he had the same problem at times, as he had demonstrated earlier.
"Will, are you with us or someplace else?" Collins asked, trying to get Mendenhall awake and back to work mentally.
The lieutenant looked up from the fire that was only a few yards away, and fixed Jack with his eyes. Then he broke eye contact and looked at the falling rain.
"I'm here, Colonel," he said and then looked back down at the fire.
There was a tremendous bolt of lightning that struck the ground directly across the river. The flash lit up the entire area around them.
Jack finally decided he had had enough. He wanted to end the cat-and-mouse game that had been going on between himself and Henri Farbeaux, who was obviously dodging the truth behind why he was so adamant about coming along.
"Colonel, when are you going to let us in on why it is you chose to come with us on this little outing, and please don't tell me it's for the Twins of Peter the Great."
Farbeaux turned, the mud beneath him making the maneuver extremely uncomfortable. He smiled at Jack and then looked away.
"Colonel Collins, when have you known me to do anything other than for profit? I am still what you would call, 'the bad guy,' here."
"I have no doubt of that."
"As proof, I advance to you the small fact that I was afraid that when you confronted that rather large Spetsnaz gentleman, you would deprive me of the death I have planned for you when all of this is finished, a death that I have dreamed of for going on a full year. But alas, I should have known you would prevail. I am beginning to call it the 'Collins luck.' "
"Don't worry, Henri, I'll figure it out. You have another scheme going here and I will…"
Jack didn't finish his statement. Overhead, through the thick cloud cover they all heard it at the same time. It was the sound of a helicopter — a large one, much larger than the Bell Ranger that he had left Ryan behind at the fishing camp to repair. As they listened the sound grew louder. Lightning flashed again and they saw Russians running from their tents. Whoever was dropping in on them, it looked as if they wouldn't be welcomed all that warmly.
"Jesus," Everett said shaking his head. "Don't tell me…"
"Ryan and Sarah," Jack said as they heard the distress of the helicopter as it raised and lowered in the wind.
"Yeah, I can tell Ryan's flying anywhere," Mendenhall added.
As they watched in dawning knowledge and the horror of that fact, one of the Spetsnaz went to the center of the camp and while being assisted by another, raised a long tube into the air and aimed.
Pointed directly into the lightning-streaked sky and at the sound created by the misguided Sikorsky was a heat-seeking anti-aircraft missile.
* * *
The wind had picked up by thirty knots and Ryan, since sliding the Sikorsky down toward the river so he could follow the terrain, had a difficult time keeping the sharp nose of the helicopter trained in the right direction. The stiff wind was forcing the tail both right and left, which was a usual state for Ryan flying machines he hadn't formally trained in before.
"We're going to have to set this thing down before I kill all of us," he said looking straight ahead.
"We may as well," Sarah said as she held on tight to the side window frame as the large helicopter swung sharply to the right, sliding dangerously close to the trees lining the river. "We'll never see either camp from this low, anyway."
"Okay, see if we can find a clearing, one not too far from the river, I don't want to slam these rotors into the top of any trees. Maybe if we—"
At that moment a streak of fire passed by three feet in front of the windscreen. Ryan, his reactions a split second too late threw the stick to the right, dipping the rotors only fifty feet from the now raging Stikine.
"Jesus, was that a missile?" Sarah shouted.
"I saw when it was fired at us," Marla said as she suddenly appeared between Ryan and Sarah. "The Russian camp must be about a thousand yards ahead!"
"Get back to your seat and strap in," Ryan shouted as he brought the Sikorsky back up into the air. The wipers had a hard time keeping up with the battering rain slamming into the speeding helicopter.
"Here comes another one!" Marla shouted from her seat in the back.
Ryan couldn't see in what direction he should turn — so he quickly took a chance and headed north and climbed. The steepness of the ascent pressed Sarah into her seat and that was when she started pray
ing. Just as Ryan thought maybe they had evaded the missile, the warhead exploded just outside of the rear rotor. Two of the four blades were sheared away in a split second and Ryan felt the Sikorsky veer sharply to the left. He tried to compensate by slamming the control stick as far right as possible while at the same time slamming his wounded leg onto the right pedal.
"That's it, kids, we heading down," he called out just as the Sikorsky started to spin, heading for the trees far below.
As a large streak of lightning flashed across the forest, it illuminated the death plunge of Ryan, Sarah, and Marla as they fell from the sky north of the Stikine.
RUSSIAN BASE CAMP
THE STIKINE RIVER
Everett stamped his feet, willing the missile to miss the poor bastards flying into the makeshift ambush. As the flare of the missile exhaust lit up the camp and the driving rain pummeling it, they watched as the heat-seeking missile streaked toward the shiny new helicopter.
Collins stepped in front of the others and, like Carl, willed the missile to miss. He knew that the projectile was a heat seeker, and he also knew that it would have a hard time locking onto to the exhaust because of the cold rain. The mistake for the Russians was not having radar-guided stingers. As he watched, his eyes never left the exhaust trail of the small warhead.
"Damn, he doesn't even see it!" Collins shouted.
With the luck of a drunken sailor, Ryan caught a break as a strong gust of wind, reaching sixty miles an hour, pushed the missile far ahead of its target, and as luck would also have it, it didn't lock onto the heated engine at all. The missile streaked by the front nose of the Sikorsky, missing it by mere feet.
"Is that your Mr. Ryan?" Henri asked.
"It was," Mendenhall said as he joined the others.
"Turn away, Ryan, turn away," Jack hissed as his eyes went to the fire team as they brought out a fresh weapon from an elongated box.
"He's too close, they won't miss this time," Everett said as he too turned toward the shooters.
Collins and Everett had the same thought at exactly the same time. They both sprinted for the team just now bringing the helicopter into their sights. With hands still tied behind them, they didn't stand a chance in hitting the shooters in time. What they did do was make the Russian aiming the weapon flinch when he heard his comrades shouting a warning. The man assisting the shooter turned and was only able to tackle Collins, but Everett continued on. Several shots rang out through the noise of the storm, but all the bullets missed the large SEAL as he leaped. Just before his shoulder connected solidly with the shooter, the missile left the tube. Carl slammed into the man and they rolled over into the mud.
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