Remi kept her mind off Sam’s strange behavior and directed her squad of women and children to make effigies of townspeople, stuffing clothing with leaves and brush. “If your son is firing a rifle, you want the enemy to waste ammunition shooting at the five or six dummies you made and placed around to protect him.”
She had other people bringing empty bottles, cans of gasoline, and rags to the plateau and making Molotov cocktails. “If men are coming up the path, these will stop them for a time. And if it’s night, they’ll light them up so anyone with a gun can hit them.”
At dusk, Sam stood on the crest of the hill beside the ancient fortress, surveying the preparations the townspeople had made. He knew there were hundreds of human effigies, beginning on the trail to the ancient stronghold. There were pits from building the old rock barrier. Within the walls of the ancient fortress were enough food and water for the whole town for a couple of weeks, and there were shelters for the children. The whole perimeter had dummies at the ramparts, and the supply of rocks and Molotov cocktails was impressive.
Sam was suddenly aware that Remi was standing next to him.
“I can’t live without you,” she said softly. “Please don’t stay in the village and die there alone.”
Sam shook his head and looked down. “I’ve never asked you to blindly follow my direction. I have to ask you now. Trust me.”
She turned to him and looked for something in his eyes. “We’ve never had any secrets between us.”
“I’m sorry, Remi. But I swore an oath many years ago that I have to stand by. And now I have to see this through.”
“I know you have something up your sleeve. But will it work?”
He ran his hand through her hair. “The final throw of the dice and I can’t even tell you what I hope is going to happen.”
Sam looked up at the last of the sun-painted mountain peaks. “It’s time for me to go.”
Sam put his arm about his beloved wife and escorted her to the head of the trail that led down the mountain.
She buried her face in his shoulder.
“You just can’t do this. I may never see you again.”
His kiss was as gentle as a soft whisper. “I’ve made luncheon reservations at our favorite restaurant here in town.”
After walking twenty feet through the fortress, Remi stopped to get a final look at her husband. But Sam was not to be seen. It was as if he had vanished.
At dawn, Sam walked across the road to the church and climbed the ladder to the top of the bell tower. His timing was on the money.
He removed a pair of German Steiner 20?80 military binoculars and peered through the lenses at a dust cloud on the road about five miles away.
Almost casually, he sat on a niche in the wall and watched the sunrise. Later, he stared at the approaching military convoy.
Sam was not primed to fight. His job was to observe. He took a small old-fashioned handheld radio he’d borrowed from Dr. Huerta, adjusted the frequency, and pressed the call button.
“Viper One. This is Cobra One. Over.”
A voice, clear and sharp, came back almost immediately.
“Cobra One. This is Viper One. I haven’t heard your voice in a long time. Over.”
“Six years and seven months, to be exact.”
“We’ve all missed you, Cobra One.”
“Is that Viper Two?”
“Two hundred meters on your left in an open space in the forest.”
“You have been away a long time,” laughed Viper Two. “I remember you as the new kid on the block in the old days.”
“You must know,” said Viper One, “the firm is stepping on important toes to fit this little tea party in the schedule.”
“I’m well aware of it,” replied Sam. “And, I might add, I’m the only one on this side who knows the score.”
“Okay,” said Viper One, “why don’t you tell
“Roger,” said Sam. “A small army of men who work for a local drug lord are planning to come here to take possession of the town and ship the people to a plantation about twenty miles away and put them to work.”
“That sounds like slavery.”
“It is slavery,” said Sam. “And extortion and theft and kidnapping and murder. Once they have these people in their marijuana fields, nobody will ever see or hear from them again. Over.”
“Nice to know we’re the good guys,” Viper Two cut in. “Hold on. I read a convoy of seven vehicles approaching up the road.”
Sam added what he could see from his perch in the bell tower.
“Each of the canvas-covered trucks is carrying twenty-five men, all armed with AK-47s. They’re escorted by two armored cars. One at the head of the column, the other bringing up the rear.”
“We also see the convoy is escorted by two Mi-8 Russian-built gunships.”
“How can you know everything in my sight when you’re behind a forested mountain?”
“We’ve had many upgrades in our sensors since you were part of the gang.”
Sam aimed his binoculars at the final turn in the road leading up to the village.
“Viper One. They’ve reached the edge of the town and have stopped.”
“Not surprised. There are no people in sight, living or dead. That must make them wonder.”
“My wife and I herded all the villagers up the mountain to an ancient fortress.”
The pilots and gunners in the Apaches adjusted their helmets with the monocle over the right eye. It was a revolutionary sighting system. The pilot or gunner could slave the chain gun to his helmet, allowing him to achieve accurate sighting on a target by making the chain gun track with his head movements, aiming wherever he looked.
“Viper Two. This is Viper One. We are clear to engage.”
“Time to give them hell for breakfast.”
Viper One turned the Apache in a sharp bank and then entered the main village square, hovering twenty meters off the cobblestones.
Chapter 31
Amando Gervais and his copilot and gunner, Rico Sabas, sat side by side in the spacious cockpit of their Mi-8 Hip gunship, one of San Martin’s fleet of five helicopters.
The Mi-8 was Russian built and was an oldie but goodie. Production had continued despite the fifty-one years since the first one took to the skies. Utilized by half the military forces in the world, the Mi-8 was considered the most successful design worldwide.
Gervais lightly touched the collective control stick to raise the Mi-8 until it was five meters off the ground. At the same time, he eased the cyclic stick forward, slowly moving the Mi-8 up the rise and around the church and into the village square. Suddenly Gervais and Sabas froze, in a state of shock. Instead of a crowd of villagers with pitchforks and shotguns firing bird shot, Gervais and Sabas found themselves staring at an array of rocket launchers hung on the most malevolent, atrocious, and evil attack helicopter in the United States arsenal.
To Sam Fargo in the bell tower, there was no more terrifying apparition than the AH-64E Apache Longbow helicopter, especially when viewed head-on. It looked like a giant, grotesque bug that could never fly.
“Santa Maria,” muttered Sabas. “Where did that come from?”
