That was where the rogue bipod had been heading.
But what's waiting in that crater? Schofield thought.
Why are the South Africans heading there?
The Super Stallion thundered down its narrow rock walled canyon, heading for the X intersection, rounded a bend — and came face-to-face with one of the Air Force Penetrators. Schofield yanked on the control stick, reining the Super Stallion to a lurching halt in midair.
The Penetrator was hovering above the X-intersection, turning laterally in the air, looking down each of the four rock-walled alleyways that met there. It looked like a gigantic flying shark, searching for its prey.
It saw them.
'Looking Glass, this is Penetrator Three,' a voice said sharply over Schofield's cockpit intercom. 'Got any realtime imagery from the satellite yet?'
Schofield froze.
Shit.
'Book, quickly. Weapons check.'
The Penetrator turned in the air to face the Super Stallion.
'Looking Glass? You listening?'
Book II said, 'We got a nose-mounted Gatling gun. That's it.'
'Nothing else?'
The two helicopters faced each other, hovering above the intersection like a pair of eagles squaring off, a hundred yards apart.
'Nothing.'
'Looking Glass,' the voice on the intercom became cautious. 'Please respond immediately with your authentication code.'
Schofield saw the Penetrator's downturned wings — saw the missiles hanging from them.
They looked like Sidewinders.
Sidewinders… Schofield thought.
Then, abruptly, he hit the talk button on his console. 'Penetrator gunship, this is Captain Shane Schofield, United States Marine Corps, Presidential Detachment. I am now in command of this helicopter. I've only got one word to say to you.'
'And what is that?'
'Draw,' Schofield said flatly.
Silence.
Then: 'Okay…'
'What the hell are you doing?' Book II said.
Schofield didn't reply. He just kept his eyes locked on the Penetrator's wings.
A moment later, with a flash of light, an AIM-9M Sidewinder missile blasted forward from the left-hand wing of the Penetrator.
'Oh, shit…' Book II breathed.
Schofield saw the charging missile from head-on — saw its domed nose, saw the star-shaped outline of its stabilizing fins, saw the looping smoke trail issuing out behind it as it rolled through the air heading straight for them!
'What are you doing!' Book II exclaimed. 'Are you just going to sit there…?'
And then Schofield did the strangest thing.
He jammed his finger down on his control stick's trigger. With the Sidewinder missile hurtling toward it — and only a bare second away from impact — the Super Stallion's nose-mounted Gatling gun came to life, spewing forth a line of glowing orange tracer bullets.
Schofield angled the line of laserlike bullets toward the oncoming missile, and just as the missile came within twenty yards of his helicopter — boom! — his bullets hit the Sidewinder right on its forward dome, causing it to explode in midair, fifteen yards short of the hovering Super Stallion.
'What the…?' Book II said.
But Schofield wasn't finished.
Now that the Sidewinder was out of the way, he swung his line of tracer bullets back up toward the Penetrator.
In the near distance, he could see the Penetrator's two pilots fumbling to launch another missile, but it was too late.
Schofield's tracer bullets rammed into the canopy of the Penetrator — one after the other after the other — pummeling it, pounding it, causing the entire attack helicopter to recoil helplessly in the air.
Schofield's relentless stream of bullets must have gone right through the Penetrator's cockpit, because an instant later, one of the chopper's fuel tanks ignited and the whole attack helicopter spontaneously exploded, bursting into a billowing ball of flames before the entire flaming chopper just dropped out of the sky and crashed into the water below.
With the Penetrator out of the way, Schofield gunned his Super Stallion down the western canyonway, heading for the narrow slot canyon into which the rogue bipod had disappeared.
'What the hell did you do back there?' Book II asked.
'Huh?'
'I didn't know you could shoot down a missile with tracer bullets.'
'Only Sidewinders,' Schofield said. 'Sidewinders are heat-seekers — they use an infrared system to lock in on their targets. But to accomplish that, the forward seeker dome on the missile has to allow infrared radiation to pass through it. That means using a material other than plate steel. The seeker dome of a Sidewinder is actually made of a very fragile transparent plastic. It's a weak point on the missile.'
'You shot it at its weak point?'
'I did.'
'Pretty risky strategy.'
'I saw it coming. Not many people get to see a Sidewinder from head-on. It was worth taking the chance.'
'Are you always this risky?' Book II asked evenly.
Schofield turned at the question.
He paused before answering, appraised the young sergeant beside him.
'I try not to be,' he said. 'But sometimes… it's unavoidable.'
They came to the narrow slot canyon into which the South African bipod had fled.
The little canyon was cloaked in shadow, and it was a lot narrower than Schofield thought it would be. His Super Stallion's whizzing rotor blades only just fitted between its high rock walls.
The giant helicopter roared along the narrow canyon, moving through the shadows, before abruptly it burst out into brilliant sunshine, out into a wide craterlike lake bounded by threehundred-foot-high vertical rock walls and with a small mesa at its northern end.
As with the other crater, the sandstorm up above the canyon system invaded this open stretch of water. The wind-hurled sand fell like rain, in slanting wavelike sheets. It assaulted Schofield's windshield, drummed against it.
'You see anything?' Schofield yelled.
'Over there!' Book II pointed off to their left, at the vertical outer wall of the crater opposite the mesa, at a point where a particularly wide canyon branched westward, away from the circular mini-lake.
There, Schofield saw a tiny rivercraft sitting on the water's surface, bucking with the mediumsized waves generated by the sandstorm.
It was the rogue South African bipod.
And it was alone.
Schofield's Super Stallion zoomed over the water filled desert crater, flying low and fast, its rotors thumping.
Schofield stared at the bipod as they came closer.
It appeared to be stationary, as if it were lying at anchor about twenty yards out from where the sheer rock
