Harun fingered the headset, thinking back to the communication five minutes before with the sleeper agent. The American was somewhere in the forest below them, scarce six kilometers from the border. He was running out of time.
An idea struck him suddenly and he switched comm channels, over to the frequency used by the pilot of the helicopter. “Set my men and me down in the nearest clearing,” he instructed, speaking loudly to ensure that he was heard over the roar of the engines. “Then proceed to the western edge of the forest, near the Iraqi border, and set up patrol. We will drive them toward you.”
“Ever used one of those things before?” Hamid asked, glancing critically at the Stinger SAM clutched in Sergeant Obregon’s hands.
The Hispanic nodded. “Where?” came the next question, but he just grinned.
“Not allowed to say,
A few chuckles greeted his retort, but they were few and far between. Tension pervaded the atmosphere as the men waited, eyes on the wooded mountainside a mile away. One of the Rangers rested the barrel of his M249 SAW on the hood of the Humvee as the other two members of the squad stood by, M-4 carbines at the ready.
The two CIA men had donned flak jackets and unslung their own rifles, accurized AK-74s. The sight of the Eastern Bloc weapons had raised a few eyebrows at first, but there were no comments now. Just silence.
And they waited…
Thomas drew up at the edge of the forest, dismounting in the underbrush to aim his binoculars in the direction indicated by the beacon. The ground between them was open, marked by only an occasional tree. Naked as the surface of the moon. A canyon stretched off to the north, adding to the austerity of the landscape.
He lowered the binoculars and listened, ears alert for any sound of the helicopter. He hadn’t heard it for nearly fifteen minutes. Perhaps it had gone.
“Any sign of the bird?” he asked, holding the TACSAT to his ear.
“That’s negative,” came Hamid’s calm, reassuring voice. “Come on in.”
He swung back up onto the back of the stallion, touching Estere on the shoulder as he took the reins once more in his hands. “We’re going home.”
A weak smile crossed her lips and she squeezed his fingers. “Good…”
It was time to go. He took a deep breath and kicked the horse into a gallop, out across the open ground…
He had always been an early riser, even as a kid. But not this early. Harry leaned over and looked at the clock on his nightstand. Just a couple minutes past four. Something was wrong.
He swung out of bed and pulled on his jeans, reaching for the.45 on the nightstand. A round was already in the chamber, hammer back the way it always was. He finished dressing in the dark, unable to shake himself free from the feeling of danger.
Anymore, he no longer tried. It had saved his life too many times.
Hamid felt himself holding his breath as he saw the horse emerge from the treeline, galloping hard toward the border. He raised the binoculars to his eyes, making out the form of Thomas on its back. And the woman.
The two CIA men were standing on a small hillock about fifteen meters in front of the Ranger Humvee. He looked back down the hill, realizing Thomas was out of the Rangers’ line of sight. It didn’t matter. Just another couple minutes.
Then it happened, suddenly and without warning. An Mi-24 attack helicopter swept into view, out of the canyon to the north. A huge, menacing bird of prey sweeping down on the horseman from behind.
Hamid screamed out a warning and thrust Davood to the earth, bringing his rifle up into firing position. There was no time.
No time. The horse’s hooves pounded a grim tattoo against the hard-packed earth, toward the border. Painfully slow.Thomas felt his entire body tense, waiting for the gunship to open fire.
Any moment now, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. His options had decreased to a singular course. One option.
Fate. He urged the horse forward, guiding him first right, then left, slaloming like a skier down a snowy hill.
A horrible sound broke from the sky behind them as the helicopter’s cannon began firing, a roar like canvas ripped in the hands of a giant, 12.7-mm shells biting into the ground around them.
The next instant, a terrible whinnying cry echoed from the lips of the stallion and Thomas went flying over its head.
Pain. He struck the ground with a bone-jarring thud, rolling over and over on the earth as plumes of dust erupted around his body. The Kalishnikov was laying a few feet from his outstretched hand, just out of reach.
A scream pierced his numbed mind and he turned to see Estere go down, her body hit repeatedly, riddled by bullets. She cried out again and started to crawl toward him, pain distorting the beauty of her features.
“
Sergeant Obregon hurtled up the hill, dropping to one knee beside Hamid’s firing position. The Stinger was already locked-on, beeping TARGET ACQUIRED.
Missile away…
She was dying. He knew that, her blood soaking his shirt as he held her close. A stinging pain tore at his side as the helicopter bore down upon the helpless couple.
They were going to die.
All at once, Thomas heard a sound, like a fiery arrow arcing through the air. He looked up just in time to see the sky explode in flame as the missile connected with its target, directly impacting the Hind’s port engine.
Molten pieces of metal showered down upon them as the helicopter staggered off course, going down. He held her close, sheltering her with his body, only too aware of the futility of the gesture.
“Stay with me, baby,” he whispered desperately. “Just stay with me.”
Another explosion pierced his consciousness as the helicopter slammed into the ground a hundred yards away. Inferno…
Harun arrived at the edge of the treeline just in time to see the helicopter hit by a SAM. “Spread out,” he ordered, waving his men forward. “We need the American.”
He checked the chamber of his rifle once more in a nervous gesture. It was loaded. Then they were moving, fanned out across the hill as they moved into the open.
She coughed, tiny flecks of blood spattering against Thomas’s cheek as he held her there against his
