road just separates the men from the boys. I’ll be with you soon enough.”
Icarus offered his good hand. “I hope so, Sergeant. Truly I do. Your men need you. Otherwise, they’ll be lost.”
Goose wanted to ask about that cryptic statement, but he didn’t. There wasn’t time. And he couldn’t allow any other thoughts inside his mind other than how he was going to deal with their pursuers.
As he watched Miller and Icarus get underway again, Goose divested himself of insecurities and pain. He donned the mental armor of the hunter. At this point, there could be no mercy.
Local Time 1023 Hours
“I’m getting tired of all these trees and brush,” Heinrich complained. He pushed and shoved his way through the dense foliage.
“That is because you are out of shape,” Kosheib said. “You have become lazy from all the easy work you have been getting lately. Killing someone in their bed or out in front of a restaurant is not the same as stalking them through the bush.” The Sudanese strode through the forest like a big cat.
“Yeah, well I for one am glad to work in the civilized world. It’s easier to pop someone who’s following a routine in the city than to try to flush them out of the brush.”
Allen ignored the men’s banter. Kosheib and Heinrich usually griped to and about each other. Trying to get them to stop only exacerbated the problem. Allen stayed locked on Weaver, who was walking point at the moment.
The sat-phone vibrated in Allen’s pocket. He didn’t look at caller ID to see who it was. He already knew. Alexander Cody had called twice so far to find out if they’d caught up with Icarus.
Allen was actually impressed the three men they pursued had covered as much ground as they had. Their prey had tried to be coy about their flight on a few occasions, changing directions and trying to conceal their trail. In the end, all they’d done was lose time. Allen, Owens, Weaver, and Kosheib were all trained trackers.
A few minutes later, Weaver signaled a stop, then waved Allen forward.
“What do you think he’s found?” Owens asked.
Allen didn’t look at Owens but kept his eyes constantly moving, glancing around using the periphery of his vision to track movement. “Only one way to find out. Kosheib, you’re with me.”
The big man stepped up beside Allen and moved soundlessly through the brush.
“They’ve split up.” Weaver pointed at the footprints that showed on the ground.
Allen knelt and studied the tracks. Two sets of prints showed in the soft earth. He looked back the way they’d come and spotted the ridge of stone showing above the earth.
“They hid their footprints for as long as they could,” Kosheib said.
“You think they had a falling-out?” Weaver asked.
“No.” Allen glared along the stone ridge. “They knew we were following them.”
“They could have split up to take their chances.”
Allen shook his head. He stayed low and surveyed the surrounding terrain.
Kosheib hunkered down beside him. “I am thinking this could be good spot for ambush.”
“Me too.” Allen placed his assault rifle across his knees and tried to tell himself he wasn’t vulnerable.
A flicker of movement disrupted the trees over the heads of Owens, Purvis, and McElroy as they stood and talked. Allen recognized the spherical shape immediately, but he still had to try to warn his men.
“Grenade!”
Owens ran and threw himself to one side without a wasted second. Purvis and McElroy looked at Allen, awaiting further orders. There wasn’t time for any more.
The antipersonnel grenade blew up and slung their bodies backward. Allen had no illusions about either man still being among the living.
The split had just dropped to five.
Quietly Allen waved Kosheib to the other side of the stone ridge. The mercenary leader took his weapon and duckwalked through the brush, circling around to where he thought the grenade had come from. Whoever had stayed back was about to regret being born.
That would be only for a short while, though. Allen intended to put the man out of his misery quickly. He only hoped it was their prey.
32
Downtown Sanliurfa
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 1036 Hours
“Staring at the screen isn’t going to make that program go any faster.”
Danielle glanced at Pete Farrier, the audio-visual tech assigned to the OneWorld NewsNet team. He was gangly and looked young despite being in his early thirties. His dark hair was cut short enough to let him pass as one of the soldiers in the Ranger unit. He wore khaki shorts and a T-shirt advertising a video game popular five years earlier.
“I know,” Danielle admitted.
They sat at a table in the foyer of a small hotel. The old building had weathered the test of time and had survived the Syrian assaults over the last few weeks. The decor was Old World with Moorish influence in high arches over the doorways. The electrical lighting barely held its own against the darkness lurking by the covered windows. Original paintings adorned the walls.
A dozen men and women sat around the tables. Small children, sharing the tension felt by their parents, hunkered under the tables. None of them looked confident to be there.
No, Danielle silently amended, none of them look safe. They all looked pensive and ill at ease. Every time an explosion or a long string of gunfire sounded, they flinched.
On the notebook computer screen in front of Danielle, an image constantly pixilated. She’d taken a still from the video her cameraman had shot aboard the helicopter before Goose and two others had plunged from the cargo door. Danielle had recognized one of those other men as Icarus, the mysterious rogue agent CIA Section Chief Cody was hunting. There was no way that Icarus being on board the helicopter that had been shot at could be coincidence.
“You could rest,” Pete suggested.
Danielle looked at him and shook her head. “In the middle of a war?”
“Hey,” Pete said, “over the last few weeks I’ve discovered that I can sleep anywhere, anytime. You’re tired enough. How about you get horizontal for about five minutes and see what happens.”
Danielle shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You ask me, you’re foolish not to.” Pete sipped a little of the dark, sweet Turkish coffee at his elbow. “When this image gets cleaned up-although I’m still not certain that it will-I’ll wake you.”
Jets screamed by overhead, followed almost instantly by a string of explosions. The heavy bellow of antiaircraft guns chattered through it all. The ease with which she identified the military hardware and weapons surprised Danielle.
It’s because you’re in survival mode, she told herself.
Many of the adults joined the children under the tables. A little girl started crying. Her mother gathered her into her arms and tried to shush her.
“I feel too guilty to sleep,” Danielle said.
“Why?”
She shook her head, trying to keep a lock on her emotions.
“Because Sergeant Gander was knocked out of the helicopter and you weren’t?”
“Maybe. I keep thinking that I was standing right there, that I could have just reached out and grabbed hold of him.”
“And maybe gotten pulled out yourself.”
“Maybe.”
