He made two fists to put the men on hold, then watched as one figure and then another emerged slowly from the darkness. The man in front was a Kurd. He held two large, red plastic containers. The man in behind him held a rifle and a bar with a white handkerchief tied to the end. A lit cigarette hung from his lips. Prementine waited anxiously as they came closer to the light.
'General Rodgers!' he said softly as the bare-chested man came closer to the light. The man with him couldn't be the Turkish officer. Rodgers had the gun barrel pointed to the back of his head.
'He's been tortured,' Falah said.
'I see,' said Prementine.
'As soon as you can, you should get him out of there,' Falah said. 'I'll go in to get the other hostage.'
Rodgers put the white flag down and raised a fist. He wanted the Strikers to wait. Prementine looked at his watch. The Tomahawk would be arriving in five minutes. They had to notify Op-Center in three minutes in order to have time to abort the detonation. The corporal knew that Colonel August would not make the call unless the area had been taken: If the ROC had been moved to some other site, August would be hard-pressed to explain why he ordered the abort. It was not a valid excuse to say, 'To save the team and the hostages.' In enemy hands; the ROC could be far more lethal in the long term.
His forehead and collar soaked with sweat, Prementine watched as the Kurd walked through the now- harmless white neo-phosgene. He set the containers down a foot behind the opening and unscrewed the caps. Rodgers stepped up next to him. He motioned for the Kurd to raise his arms. The frightened radio operator did so. Rodgers put the rifle barrel under his chin. Using his bare foot, he gently knocked one container over, then the other. The clear contents spread over the floor and poured into the opening.
Rodgers pulled the Kurd back several paces, then casually dropped the cigarette into the gasoline. He continued to walk back as the room below lit up with a loud
A rippling wave of heat poured up the stairs; forcing the Strikers to scurry backwards. Shrieks and flame shot up next, followed by burning bodies rushing wildly, sometimes blindly for the stairs.
'Help them!' Corporal Prementine shouted as he ran into the cave. The A-Team rose and Falah rushed in. Together, they pulled bodies from the steps as they emerged. Prementine dodged flames as he raced around the pit to Rodgers's side.
'Glad to see you, sir,' he said, saluting.
'Corporal, Colonel Seden is in the back in one of the prison pits,' Rodgers said. 'The ROC is back there too, down the eastern fork of the tunnel. There are six or seven Kurds guarding it.'
Prementine looked at his watch. 'There's a Tomahawk due to impact in less than four minutes,' he said. 'That gives us two minutes to take the ROC.' He turned. 'A-Team, this way!' he shouted.
The Strikers stopped what they were doing and ran forward. As Prementine waved them down the eastern fork, he pulled his radio from its belt-strap.
'Colonel August,' he said, 'we need B-Team here as backup. General Rodgers requires medical assistance and there are a lot of wounded Kurds. We're moving ahead to the ROC. Please open the recall line.'
'Acknowledged, Corporal,' said August.
Prementine saluted Rodgers again as he started down the tunnel. When he arrived, one of his men was already cuffing the Kurd Rodgers had knocked down. The others had continued to the back of the tunnel. The corridor jogged left and right, then opened into a gorge. While the men hugged the wall behind him, Prementine looked out. The ROC was there, roughly fifty yards away. It was sitting under a ledge and facing them. There were two Kurds crouched on the dry brush close to the ROC on either side. At least two men were inside. It didn't appear as if anyone was using the ROC's electronics. Perhaps they didn't know how.
The Strikers had a little over a minute left to 'disinfect' the ROC. It was still possible that the Strikers could step on a mine and the Kurds would be able to simply drive the ROC away. The team had to own the vehicle before they called Op-Center.
It struck Prementine as damned ironic that the ROC was bullet-proof and fire-resistant. The only contingency plan which had been designed to deal with a situation like the ROC falling under enemy influence was to destroy it with a missile. Once again he was faced with a situation in which his men would have to charge armed and fortified opponents. And win in sixty seconds.
'Corporal!'
Prementine turned as Colonel August arrived with Privates David George and Jason Scott.
'Yes, sir!' Prementine responded.
'Step aside,' August said as the men set down and quickly assembled what they were carrying, their partially dismantled NQ-double B mortar.
'Yes, sir,' Prementine said. 'But Colonel, that may not—'
'Stow it, Corporal,' August said. 'I've debriefed Mr. Katzen. He didn't tell the hijackers anything about the ROC's exterior capabilites.'
'Understood,' said Prementine.
'Grey, Newmeyer,' August said, 'setup a cross fire on the ROC. If they fire, fire back. But make sure you don't hit the van or you'll blow our bluff.'
'Yes, sir,' both men replied as they went to opposite sides of the cave. They stayed just within the shadows. One of the Kurds fired a short burst at Private Newmeyer, who returned fire. No one was hit.
When Privates George and Scott were finished, August took a deep breath. He looked at the two men. 'We have to allow the enemy to see us,' he said. 'I'll draw first fire, you follow.'
The men acknowledged the order. August drew his Beretta from its holster and stepped from the dark at the side of the cavern. He moved quickly toward the cave mouth followed by the men.
Prementine looked at his watch. They had thirty seconds to place the call to Herbert. Radio operator Ishi Honda crouched beside him.
'Are you ready, Private?' the Corporal asked nervously.
'I've got Mr. Herbert on the line,' he said, 'and Mr. Herbert's got the White House on another line. I've briefed him. He knows our situation.'
Prementine raised his submachine gun, ready to support the team. But his mind was on the missile and what its warhead would do to all of them if it detonated.
Bullets chewed into the cave floor as August came into view. He aimed at the ROC, fired, and kept walking. Prementine and Musicant also shot at the gunmen, and the Kurds were forced back. Privates George and Scott quickly set up the mortar. George aimed it at the van.
Colonel August holstered his Beretta. He faced the van and held up his ten fingers so the men in the window could see.
'Ten!' he shouted, and folded a thumb in. 'Nine!' he shouted, and dropped his pinky. 'Eight seven six five four'
When he brought down the thumb of the other hand, that was obviously enough for the Kurds. The men on the side of the van scattered into the gorge. The two men who were inside the ROC ran for the passenger's side door. They jumped out and joined their comrades.
'Grey, Newmeyer, cover us!' August shouted. 'Striker, advance!' he cried as he led the charge to the van.
Prementine remained behind with Honda. There were ten seconds left on the corporal's watch. Someone fired at August from a hillside. Grey shot back at the gunman and August kept running. He reached the door of the ROC and swung inside, followed by Privates Musicant, Scott, and George.
Prementine's heart drummed as he looked at his watch. There were five seconds left.
August leaned out the door. 'It's ours!' he cried.
'Do it!' Prementine said to Honda.
'This is Striker B-Team!' Honda said into the phone. 'The ROC is ours! Repeat! The ROC is ours!'
FIFTY-EIGHT
