couple of men and one of the Land Rovers and circle the strip. Keep an eye out. There's something wrong. I hope it's just my imagination. If everything's okay we'll meet at the far end. Graves, you and Abdul come with me.'
Gus had seen Langers's hunches prove right too many times in the past to argue about it. 'Check your weapons, put one in the spout if you haven't already. We're going to take a look-see.' Obediently they climbed in, weapons out the windows, ready to fire if need be.
They moved out rapidly. Halfway down the LZ they passed the plane. Gus waved at Parrish in the cockpit, then turned the nose of the Land Rover to avoid a rock and saw a flash to his left.
'Oh shit!' If there was an ambush set up, the only thing he could do was try and spring it before the attackers were ready. He headed straight for the spot where he'd seen the brief sparkle of light behind a screen of brush. 'Dominic, watch the right front. I saw something.'
Sunni Ali saw the Land Rover. No! It was not yet time. He hoped that his men would hold their fire just one more minute. Then it would make no difference.
The sight of the Land Rover coming straight for them was too much for one young Tuareg. This was his first time on an ambush. Fingers sweating, only his eyes showed the fear and anxiety as the rest of his fourteen-year-old face was covered by the folds of his veil. He didn't know the exact moment when his finger took up the last of the trigger slack. His rifle suddenly bucked against his shoulder; he had fired. The back of his father's hand knocking him from his horse told him he had screwed up.
Dominic returned fire with his SMG spraying wildly, not really planning on hitting anything. But it would let the rest of his party know that some shit was going down bad. Gus whipped the wheel around and headed back to the others. Bullets snapped off twigs and branches from the dried brush and several rounds punched holes in the Land Rover.
Ali was furious. There was nothing else to do now but attack.
' Allahu akbar! '
His driver turned out of the wadi, crashing out of the covering of brush they had been using for camouflage. The rest of his men moved at the same time. Horses, half-tracks, and jeeps hit the strip, spreading out in a line from the north end to the south.
Langers piled everyone back in the Land Rovers. He stood at the end of the LZ trying to wave Parrish off. Gus came screeching up to him.
'What do we do?' Gus yelled. 'A half-track with a machine gun was on an intercept course with the Dakota. Behind it were jeeps and another half-track, and now horsemen are coming out of the brush.'
'We have to get the plane back in the air,' Langers replied. 'If it goes down we're in deep shit. Get it up and we can try for another rendezvous somewhere else.'
Parrish saw the small figure at the end of the runway waving him off. From his open cargo door Monpelier was laying down fire, aiming to the rear over the tail at the pursuing line of Tuaregs. Lines of bullets stitched their way up the side of the plane, their holes letting in the desert light. Parrish estimated the amount of ground he had left: no way to take off again. He'd have to turn around. Rigsby opened his window, pulled a 9 mm Browning out from under his seat, and opened fire, knocking a horseman down.
Parrish had to brake to turn and as he did he got his first good look at what was coming after him. 'I don't think this is going to be a nice day,' he quipped.
Rigsby grunted again and fired off half a clip.
From their end of the landing zone Langers had the Land Rovers move out after the plane to try and keep the Tuaregs away until it was airborne again.
Sunni Ali found himself in line with the plane. With a touch of regret he aimed the MG-34 at the cockpit. Plexiglass exploded and Parrish's face became a red mask. Rigsby tried to regain control of the plane but Parrish 's body had draped over the yoke. The Dakota went into a spin, angling over sharply till her left wing tip touched down.
The movement threw Monpelier out the door to hit the dirt, breaking his right leg. Cursing in three tongues at his own stupidity for coming on the flight in the first place, he squatted in the dirt, snatched up his BAR, and tried to blow away the man with the MG-34. He didn't make it. The half-track ran over him, treads crushing his chest to the thickness of a pack of smokes.
When Sunni Ali opened direct fire on the aircraft so did the rest of his men. A tire blew, then thick whisps of black smoke came from the port cowling. Rigsby fought to regain control. He had the plane just about level when the back of his head erupted. Bullets coming through the fuselage flattened out before hitting him. It was just as well. The plane burst into flames only seconds later.
Langers pulled his men away, angling off to the northwest. There was nothing they could do now. Firing from their windows they punched holes in the Tuareg horsemen. Voorhees took a wild round through his temple. Abdul opened the door and dropped him out. All weapons firing, they broke away. All they could do now was run for it. Langers signaled for Sims to take the lead.
It was an hour later before they broke contact with the Tuaregs and stopped to gauge their situation. Graves and Kitchner were done for as was the Land Rover they were riding in, taking a barrage of Tuareg fire miles back. Felix had taken one too, catching a round in his back. When Sims got out of the Land Rover he was limping badly, having to hold onto the Land Rover to support his weight. Blood came from his pants leg and a dark spot was spreading at his waist. Gus was about to punch Dominic playfully in the side and started to make some remark. He never finished it. Dominic's face was pale, lips drawn tight.
'You hit, Dominic?' Gus asked.
Dominic nodded. Under his right arm, from his side, blood was flowing freely. Gently Gus helped him out of the vehicle. Sims limped over with his medic kit. He and Dominic looked at each other. They knew. After treating Dominic, Sims bandaged himself, took a couple of pain pills, and said flatly, 'I think someone else should drive and try to take it easy. Up ahead about thirty kilometers is a narrow mountain pass. I do believe we should try and get through it before the bloody madman can have it blocked.'
Langers didn't like it at all. He'd seen too many wounds not to know that Sims and Dominic were badly hurt. The Tuaregs had done them good. The plane was gone, its crew was dead. Kicking one of the tires in frustration, he cursed their luck. A thin hiss of steam was coming from one of the Land Rover's radiators. It had been punctured.
There was nothing else to do. 'All right, let's load up and try and get some distance between us. Abdul, you take over driving for Sims. I don't know how far this machine is going to go but we can't stop to worry about it. Load up and let's get out of here. Maybe we will make it to the pass.'
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sims propped his back against a boulder for support. 'Listen to me, love. I am the bloody medic, what? I believe that I am the best judge of the current condition of my health. The leg is shattered and I have internal bleeding. Even if there was room, I wouldn't survive the ride back, what with the bumps and all.'
Those gathered around him knew he was right. There wasn't really anything that could be said. Sims knew it, too.
'Right then, this is how it shall be done,' he continued. 'I will wait here with one of the machine guns and do a bit of stitching. If nothing else it will buy you a bit more time.'
Silently Roman placed his weapon beside the medic, laying several ammo belts where they'd be easy to reach. Sims nodded casually.
Langers looked over his survivors, then at the remaining Land Rover. There was still a problem. Too many people for one vehicle to make it. The extra load would slow them down drastically. Before he could think about it, Sharif Mamud stepped over to sit beside Sims.
'I think that this is a good place, Mr. Sims. Like you, I have no great love for mechanical things. They weary me and put many aches into my ancient bones. I believe I will rest a while with you.' He looked up at the canyon walls, raw, ragged, as old as the Sahara. 'Yes, this is a good place to rest.'' He jacked a round into the chamber of his Mats-49 and faced to the south.
There was silence from the group, a feel of awkwardness. No one knew exactly what to say.
