Rogue Forces полностью

“Lead has a visual, looks like two direct hits.”

“Three’s clear,” he radioed as he climbed and turned toward his planned rendezvous anchor. “Four, cleared in hot.”

“Four copies, going in hot,” the fourth A-10 pilot acknowledged. His was possibly the least exciting attack profile and one that normally was not even performed by the A-10, but the A-10s were the new members of the fleet, and their full capabilities had yet to be explored.

The routine was far simpler than his wingmen’s: stores control switches set to stations four and eight; follow the GPS navigation cues to the release point; master arming switch to “arm”; and press the release button on the control stick at the preplanned release point. Two thousand-pound GBU-32 GPS-guided bombs dropped into the night sky. The pilot didn’t have to lock anything on or risk diving toward the terrain: the guidance kits on the weapons used GPS satellite navigation signals to guide the bombs to their target, a large building near the farm that was advertised as a “community center” but that intelligence sources insisted was a major gathering and recruiting spot for PKK terrorists.

Well, not anymore. Two direct hits obliterated the building, creating one massive crater over fifty feet in diameter. Even flying at fifteen thousand feet above ground, the A-10 was rocked by the twin explosions. “Four’s clear. Weapon panel safe and clear.”

“Two good infilaks,” the lead pilot radioed. He didn’t see any secondary explosions, but the terrorists might have moved the large cache of weapons and explosions reportedly being stored in the building. “Muhtesem! Good job, Thunderbolts. Check arming switches safe, and don’t forget to turn off ECM and turn on transponders at the border or we’ll be sweeping you up in the wreckage like they’ll be doing with those PKK scum back there. See you in the rendezvous anchor.”

Minutes later, all four A-10 Thunderbolts, newly acquired warplanes of the Turkish Air Force, were safely back across the border. Another successful antiterrorist mission against the rebels hiding out in Iraq.

The woman, Zilar Azzawi, groaned in agony as she awoke a short time later. Her left hand was in terrible pain, as if she had broken a finger or thumb when she fell…and then she realized with shock that her left hand was gone, severed off at midforearm. Whatever had killed her husband and sons and destroyed the truck had almost succeeded in killing her. Her PKK commando training took over, and she managed to tie a strip of cloth from her dress around her arm as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.

The entire area around her was in flames, and she had no choice but to stay where she was, on the side of the road, until she could get her bearings. Everything around her, except this little patch of dirt road, was burning, and she had lost so much blood that she didn’t think she could go very far even if she did know which way to go.

Everything and everyone was gone, utterly blasted away—the buildings, wedding reception, all the guests, the children…my God, the children, her children…!

Azzawi was helpless now, hoping just to stay alive…

“But, God, if you let me live,” she said aloud over the sounds of death and destruction around her, “I will find the ones responsible for this attack, and I will use all of my powers to raise an army and destroy them. My previous life is over—they have taken my family from me with brutal indifference. With your blessing, God, my new life shall begin right now, and I will avenge all those who died here tonight.”

“Canak Two-Seven, Diyarbakir Tower, winds three-zero-zero at eight knots, ceiling one thousand overcast, visibility five in light rain, runway three-five, cleared for the ILS approach normal category, security status is green.”

The pilot of the American-made KC-135R tanker/cargo plane acknowledged the call, then clicked on the passenger address system. “We will be landing shortly. Please return to your seats, be sure your seat belts are secure, stow your tray tables, and put away all carry-on items. Tesekkur ederim. Thank you.” He then turned to the boom operator/flight engineer seated behind the copilot and shouted cross-cockpit, “Go see if he wants to come up for the landing, Master Sergeant.” The engineer nodded, took off his headset, and headed aft to the cargo compartment.