He hoped Kris did not have other plans. Having been thrown, run, or ushered off of a half dozen planets in the last couple of years, she should be used to the idea of helping folks out, then getting out of their way … very, very quickly.
Jack hadn't really needed those two idiots saluting what had to be the lead officer. The guy hung around the only rig painted green and with enough cubic volume to be a command vehicle. If that wasn't Cortez, it was his evil twin.
Jack had seriously considered changing the battle plan when he concluded he had a solid ID on Colonel Cortez. Still, Kris had been against turning this into a bloodbath if it could be avoided. Jack held to Kris's plan. Colonel Cortez would live to see this evening's sunset. If he didn't fall and break his neck.
Now everyone was running, jogging, or trotting. Jack held his breath and waited to see if Cortez had stayed within the decision box Kris's command group was betting on.
One company-size force moved onto the causeway at double time. They halted where the crude effort at mine clearing had come to an end. More local hostages were pushed ahead of them. Yep, mine clearing would be done the old-fashioned way, human foot by human foot. Gunny had warned about that possibility. So much for the old rules of civilized war.
Jack reached into his jacket pocket and removed the little box with the bright red button. At present, it was safely protected by a plastic cover. Jack left the cover on. It looked to be about an hour before he would need it.
Now trucks started moving. The white berets rode or walked alongside the rigs, eyes and rifles focused mainly on the water beside the road. Some studied the trees. There were no shouts of discovery, only quiet broken by the yells of NCOs snapping at troopers who weren't sufficiently attentive.
Jack ignored the troops and eyed the civilian trucks loaded with machine guns and troopers. He saw a dozen different makes or models. No three looked alike. Maintenance would be a bear for that collection of clattering spare parts. And spare parts were what they would need in about half an hour.
Waiting for nearly fifteen minutes before pulling up the rear were a dozen trucks of uniformly green and thoroughly military demeanor. Jack zoomed in. These troops were fully armored and loaded for bear. If Jack's command of Marines and a whole lot of eager civilians had to shoot it out with that company of hard cases, matters would get ugly in a hurry.
Jack measured the distance from hunched-over hostages in the vanguard to the last green rig only just pulling onto the causeway. About a klick.
Jack was glad nothing in Kris's plan involved his force trying to swallow that bunch down whole. Cortez knew he was going into country that just begged for an ambush. He was offering anyone stupid enough to take a swing at him what would look to any amateur like such a perfect chance.
Jack's Marines had intercepted two groups of such eager, untrained locals. Half a squad of his Marines were tied down keeping dozens of them quiet not a klick from Jack's ''fort.''
On the causeway, the hostages crossed the midpoint of the swamp. They looked beat. The sun was now past noon. The humidity, heat, and bugs looked to have about done them in.
Jack watched as the white berets crossed the midpoint. Then he flipped the cover off his red button and pushed it.
25
''I'm getting radio static,'' the tech in the backseat of Colonel Cortez's rig shouted.
Cortez jumped to his feet, holding on to the truck's windshield to steady himself as the driver slammed on the brakes.
''Don't stop, man. Floor it,'' Cortez shouted. He was leading Third Company, so he'd have the hundred meters between its nose and Second Company's tail to maneuver in.
Tires spun, the truck lurched ahead for a second, but then Cortez waved to the driver and shouted, ''Halt.''
The reason for the static was clearly visible up ahead.
There'd been a popping noise, not even as loud as sleepy darts on lowest power. Small clots of dirty white smoke now drifted on the light wind. And about half of Second Company was struggling in the throes of a tangle net.
The sticky-covered web had a life of its own. Even as Cortez shouted, ''Get away from that stuff,'' a couple of white berets tried to help their trapped comrades-in-prayer. They didn't have a prayer, but were immediately sucked into the trap.
Cortez leapt from his rig, whipping out his automatic. ''Get back, you idiots. The next man that gets tangled in that mess I will personally shoot. Get back, damn it.''
Whether it was the waving gun … or the foul language … or the look on Cortez's face, the psalm singers backed away from their entangled buddies.
Cortez mashed his commlink. ''Zhukov, please tell me your engineers have a few spray cans of Goo-Off.''
