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.
“
