The Osprey pirouetted in the sky, its propellers straining. In level flight it was at least twice as fast as the average helicopter and considerably stronger. But in a hover it was not much more maneuverable than the average Blackhawk, and a somewhat bigger target.
The Stinger that had been launched at it sniffed its decoy flares, homing in on them rather than the baffled exhaust from the MV-22’s engines. It quickly realized it had been duped and exploded, spraying the air with shrapnel. Fortunately, the Osprey pilots were able to get the aircraft far enough away from the warhead so the hot metal fragments completely missed.
But they had a much more difficult time with the simpler rocket-propelled grenade, launched from a different window. Aimed by sight, it was fired as the MV-22 swung away from the Stinger, and by luck or well-trained design, it crossed the path the aircraft was taking. It struck the fuselage a glancing blow. The effect was not unlike what would have happened had the shell hit a caged armor arrangement, greatly decreasing the weapon’s impact. Nonetheless, it sent pieces of metal through the side of the aircraft and one of the propellers.
The MV-22 shuddered abruptly, a frightened horse trying to buck its rider at the sight of a rattlesnake. The two pilots settled her quickly, easing off the stricken engine and trimming their controls to compensate. They edged the aircraft into a wide bank as gently as they could, then found a place to land in a field opposite the railroad tracks, about eight hundred yards away.
In the few seconds it took for the Osprey to right herself, Danny located the room the missiles had been fired from. Hopes of recovering the Raven without damage were no longer operative; he pumped a grenade into the launcher attached to his SCAR, took aim, and fired the 40mm shell into the house.
There was a low thud as it exploded. The corner of the building imploded, crumbling in on itself.
“Osprey, what’s your status?” said Danny as the dust settled.
“We’re intact, Colonel. We’re on the ground. We have problems with one engine.”
“Can you fly?”
“We’re checking the systems. We should be able to, but I don’t know what our payload will be. I’m just not sure yet, Colonel.”
“Roger that. Keep me informed.”
My fault for letting them get too damn close, Danny thought.
“Colonel, doesn’t look like we have any more resistance,” said Sugar. She was on the other side of the building. “No more activity. No gunfire.”
“Hold your positions,” he answered.
Whether he’d been too aggressive in bringing the Osprey up close, Danny now reacted by being cautious, having MY-PID analyze the situation before proceeding. The computer assessed at fifteen percent the likelihood that some of the gunmen inside were still alive and able to fight. It based this assessment on an elaborate algorithm, the sum not only of what it had seen of the battle to this point but of hundreds of other firefights whose data had been entered into its memory.
But what did fifteen percent really mean? Danny didn’t know. In truth, he wasn’t comfortable with using the system in that way to help him make combat decisions, which was why he hadn’t bothered to ask for the assessment earlier.
It was better just to go with your gut.
“All right, team up,” he barked. “Shug, you know how this is done. Anything moves, nail it down. With
Sugar quickly organized a small group to enter the building. Rather than going through the front door, they blew a hole in the side, tossed grenades in for good measure, then entered in undertaker mode: anything that was alive wouldn’t be when they were done.
Danny watched the building anxiously for signs that it might collapse.
“Secure,” said Sugar finally. “We have seven individuals, all dead, on the main floor. Checking the rest.”
“Seven?” It was several more than MY-PID had predicted.
“There’s a basement, Colonel. Looks like they might have been sleeping or hiding down there.”
“Roger that.” He flipped up his shield. Melissa was standing nearby, looking at him.
“Nothing so far,” he told her.
“I want to go in.”
“I don’t know if it’s safe.”
“If it’s safe for them, it’s safe for me. This is my deal.”
“All right.”
“Where’s Li Han inside?”
“He’s still back at the other house.” MY-PID had the other building under surveillance; no one had moved inside.
“Don’t you think that’s strange? He missed an appointment here,” added Melissa. “With all the fighting? He’s still just sitting there?”
“You’ve been watching him, you tell me. You say he’s patient — he sat in a cave for weeks.”
“True.”
The damage to the Osprey upset Danny’s plan to hit the house immediately after taking this one. He needed to get over there fast, but they didn’t have transportation.
“Boston, you on the circuit?” he asked.
Boston didn’t answer right away. Danny had MY-PID zoom the Global Hawk image onto his location. He was surprised to see that Nuri and Boston had split up — Nuri was across the street, and Boston was in the field.
Then he saw why.
“Busy at the moment, Colonel,” answered Boston. “How long before that Osprey gets here?”
“We have a problem with the bird,” said Danny. “What are you dealing with?”
“Dozen tangos in the weeds. I have it under control.”
There was a burst of gunfire.
“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Danny told him.
Melissa stepped through the hole in the side of the building, then moved to the side, trying to get her eyes to adjust. It was dark outside but even darker in here; she saw absolutely nothing.
One of the Whiplash people loomed in front of her, the black combat gear making him blend into the background.
“Ms. Ilse?”
“Yes. Are any of the people in the house Mao Man — Li Han, the Chinese agent?”
“No Asians. All African. There’s gear and what looks like the UAV in the basement,” said Sugar. “Can you come this way?”
“OK.”
“Uh, you can’t really see, can you?”
“No.”
Sugar reached to her sleeve and flipped on a light. An LED beacon was sewn into the cuff. “Better?”
“Much,” said Melissa. She followed the trooper to a door near the front of the house and descended a set of steps. There was a body halfway down, riddled with bullets. The blood on the steps below was still wet.
Melissa scooped up the AK-47 at the bottom of the stairs.
“This way,” said Sugar, leading her to the side.
The Raven UAV sat in the middle of the basement. It was missing a wing and part of the tail section. Part of the fuselage had been disassembled, and the cover for the computer area was missing as well. Melissa rushed over to it, sliding to her knees to examine it like a child rushing to open presents on Christmas.
The computer was missing.
She looked up at Sugar.
“We need to search the basement and the rest of the house for circuitry, memory boards,” she told her.
