the woods, not get lost in the trees. Still, no matter how he rationalized, waiting outside was difficult.
He rotated the FLIR, but so far nothing untoward could be seen. The viewing head of the high-magnification night/day vision device was extended over the rim of the hill. He felt like a submariner looking through his periscope. Steve Kent, his driver, sat beside him. Lee Cochrane, his rear gunner who had checked out surprisingly well with the GECAL, was fifteen yards away, lying in a dip of the rim, monitoring the road.
Fitzduane missed his eye in the sky.
Calvin would warn him of any vehicles approaching from the north, but he would not be able to see any southern arrivals while away at the airfield. Still, life was a compromise. Armed helicopters were the most lethal short-term threat, and if he could neutralize them the exfiltration would be a whole lot safer. There were no other helicopters based within range.
He focused the FLIR on the Yaibo barracks. There was one light burning on the first floor. That would be the radio room.
He watched as the light went out. Inside that building, according to his information, Kathleen lay. In seconds she would be free or perhaps dead. He knew she had been maltreated and abused and was kept blindfolded and chained – but had it been even more serious? Could she walk? Was she still sane? Had she been tortured? Had she been raped? The baby! How was the baby? Could it have survived?
He wanted to put his arms around Kathleen and hug her as he had so many times in the past, but he could do nothing but watch and wait.
Near the Devil's Footprint,
Tecuno, Mexico
Calvin allowed himself plenty of time and traveled slowly and in optimum stealth mode to reach Madoa airfield.
On a moonless night like this and a thousand feet up the SkyEye was almost impossible to detect visually, but the engine could conceivably be heard unless the ‘super trap’ silencer was used.
The super trap – fitted also to the Guntracks – was highly effective, but though it increased torque, it decreased performance. The system could be varied by the operator, but fully invoked, the price for being nearly silent was a top speed dropped from over eighty to around thirty miles an hour.
The air was cold and clear against his face, and with the engine noise almost completely suppressed, he felt like some giant bird of prey as he flew over the nearly deserted landscape beneath him.
The northern end of the perimeter road was dark. There were no truck lights. He peered through his FLIR and examined the lozenge-shaped ribbon of the road more closely. There was still nothing to be seen. Team Rapier was safe from the north. As for the south, that would have to be the boss's problem, because Calvin could see the lights of the airfield show up ahead. It was clear they were not anticipating any enemy action. There were lights at the main gate and in the barracks and around the maintenance hangars. The runway was dark.
Six MiG-23 jets stood parked in sandbagged emplacements, and nearby another four helicopters were similarly lined up.
Calvin circled the airfield at a discreet distance, studying every detail through his FLIR. He had practiced until he could fire an aimed RAW projectile every ten seconds. Close examination showed half a dozen heavy-machine- gun positions around the base. They might not be designed for antiaircraft work, but they could still make life very unpleasant for him if he was detected.
'Don't be either a hero or a perfectionist, Calvin,' Fitzduane had said. 'How can you lobby the cause of special-forces air if you're a permanent part of the Tecuno landscape? Do what you can in a single pass and then get the fuck out AFAFP – As Fast As Fucking Possible.'
Calvin smiled to himself as he prepared to attack. He would confine himself to the aircraft parked outside. Anything under repair in the maintenance hangar was unlikely to be flyable in time to pose a threat anyway.
Unfortunately, he did not see the small passenger helicopter parked inside one of the hangars for no more serious reason than it was having its windscreen cleaned. It was used by Reiko Oshima, and it was at Madoa airfield because Oshima was spending that particular night with General Luis Barragan.
Unaware of each other's presence, Calvin prepared to attack.
The Devil's Footprint,
Tecuno, Mexico
Chifune entered the second floor of the Yaibo barracks, the layout imprinted on her mind.
Toilets, four stalls. Thirty-six-bed barracks area with passage down the center. Two rooms at either side of the corridor. Kathleen on the right. Oshima sometimes – she moved around – on the left.
Chifune was designated right and Chuck Freeman was assigned left, with Grady acting as backup. Nothing was said. This was a prearranged routine practiced so many times it was an instinctive reflex.
The floor was dark, but through her PNV goggles she could see. There were no colors except shades of green fading to black and the red dot of her laser gun sight, which was invisible except to those wearing the goggles and the appropriate filter.
A figure rose from a bed and stumbled sleepily toward the toilets. Outside the stalls, as he fumbled for a light switch, Chifune shot him twice in the back of the head and caught the body and lowered it to the ground. Black liquid ran out of his skull. She checked the other stalls. All were empty.
Thirty of the beds were still occupied.
Chifune fired, and a split second later Chuck Freeman opened up. The weapons made almost no noise, and the ejected brass fell downward into cloth bags so there was not even the sound of empty cases rattling on the floor.
Bodies whipped as rounds tore into them, and blood blackened the bedclothes and sheets and leaked onto the floor and spread in a great pool.
The attackers advanced, firing steadily in aimed three-round bursts, and Grady followed up with head shots.
One terrorist rose up and screamed and reached for his weapon, but died as Chifune fired a longer burst and five 10mm armor-piercing slugs cut through his torso.
At the end of the room, a Yaibo member got his weapon up and cocked it, then slammed back and slid along the corridor as Grady spotted him and took him out with a head shot and a burst to the throat.
A pair of lovers sharing the same bed half rose in alarm as the man in the next bed shuddered and fell back, and then Freeman's rounds found them and they collapsed in each other's arms.
A Yaibo woman seized a sword and ran down the central aisle toward her executioners until three streams of Calico rounds converged and cut her nearly in half.
She fell forward and her weapon cut into the toe of Freeman's boot before falling from her lifeless hands.
One young Yaibo member – he was older but he looked no more than sixteen – held up his hands in a vain effort to surrender. The movement attracted Grady's attention and a burst took him in the face.
A terrorist rolled off his bed and, crawling frantically, emerged between Chifune and Freeman. Neither could fire without hitting the other. Grady was blocked by Freeman.
The terrorist scrabbled to cock his automatic rifle. As he did so, Freeman drew his fighting knife with his left hand and stabbed the man in the throat.
In less than thirty seconds, thirty-one members of Yaibo lay dead or dying and the air was thick with the smells of slaughter. All the bodies were checked quickly, and where there was any sign of life at all, it was terminated.
The assault team moved on. There was no emotion. This was what they had trained to do. Reaction would come later.
The door of Oshima's room was flung open. It was empty.
