The buzz from the airfield drew his attention again. Something big was getting ready to take off. David found that odd considering the fact that Rich’s team hadn’t identified any departures on the airfield’s flight log. Maybe he’d take a look while he waited. He dropped into the vehicle and searched for the binocular case he’d seen earlier, not having any luck. Must be in the front passenger foot well. He considered leaning between the seats and feeling around, but decided to let Rich’s people handle it.
He grabbed the radio handset from the front console. “Alpha, this is Delta Test. Still waiting for package. I’m hearing some serious engine sounds from the airfield. Sounds like a big prop-driven aircraft. C-130?”
“This is Alpha Actual,” said Major Smith. “There’s no scheduled activity at the field.”
“Something’s going on. Maybe they’re running maintenance on one of their transports,” said David, movement toward the building catching his eye.
“We’ll check it out with the Raven,” said Smith. “Alpha out.”
David barely heard what Smith said. Three figures had emerged from the prison entrance. Two soldiers—and his ex-wife. Holy shit! It worked.
“Alpha, this is Delta Test,” said David. “We have the package. They did it.”
“I’m glad to hear that, David,” said Smith. “Get her home to her son.”
“Thank you. Taking her straight home,” said David. “Good luck tonight. Out.”
He moved into the seat on the opposite side of the vehicle and waited for them to arrive, still not one hundred percent convinced this was real, or that they’d get away with it. When the driver’s side passenger door opened and she stuck her head in, he knew it was real. His wife took one quick look at him and turned to Sergeant Rudolph.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” she said.
Very real.
“I was hoping for ‘thank you,’ or ‘thank god you got me out of that hell,’ but I’ll settle for that,” said David.
She looked at him, confused for a second. “Jesus. Sorry. Can I get in?”
“That’s usually how a prison break works,” said David.
She got in, and Sergeant Rudolph shut the heavy armored door behind her.
“Really. What the fuck are you doing here?” she said, clearly disoriented.
“Rescuing your ass,” he said. “I have Joshua.”
“Oh my god! He’s here? He’s okay?” she pleaded. “They just took me away. I couldn’t call. There was no way to get in touch. I was frantic, but there was nothing—”
He leaned across the seat and held her, something he’d never expected to do again in his life. “He’s with my parents down in Evansville. He’s fine. You’re fine. Everything is going to be okay.”
“It’s hard to believe that after the past few days,” she said, crying into his shoulder. “Thank you. I don’t know how you did this, but thank you.”
“Anything for Josh,” he said. “He was so worried about you. So was I.”
“We’re rolling,” said Chapman, putting the HUMVEE into gear.
“Are they driving us to Evansville?” she said.
David sat up and buckled his seat belt. “There’s a Jeep waiting for us just up the road. We’ll drive south and drop off a few new friends, then make our way to Evansville.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “I still can’t believe this.”
“Neither can I. It’s good to see you, Meghan.”
“I’m going to start crying again,” she said. “Can I call Joshua?”
“Let’s wait until we get on the road,” said David. “This place is about to turn into a war zone.”
The HUMVEE bolted out of the parking lot, screeching its tires as it took the turn onto U.S. Route 31 without slowing. They sped north along the eastern edge of the base, passing through another empty intersection.
“Delta Test, this is Alpha Actual,” squawked a voice.
Rudolph grabbed the handset. “This is Delta Test.”
“Are you still up by the gas station?” said Smith.
“Ten seconds from dropping our guests off,” said the sergeant.
“Can you get eyes on the eastern end of the taxiway?” said Smith. “We can’t get the drone close enough without the tower spotting it. David said something was making a ton of noise over there. Should be the area right across from the gas station.”
“Wait one,” said Rudolph, hanging the handset on the center console.
“I heard that, too,” said Chapman. “Didn’t think anything of it. Shit.”
“Probably nothing,” said David.
Rudolph stared through the binoculars, trying to hold them steady as they raced along the road.
“Looks like a C-130 taxiing,” he said.
“Which side are you looking at?” said David.
“Starboard side,” said Chapman.
The AC-130’s weapons suite protruded from the opposite side.
“You don’t think it—” started Sergeant Rudolph.
“It would be a real showstopper,” said David.
“Shit. We won’t know until it turns onto the runway,” said Rudolph, grabbing the handset and reporting to Smith.
“What’s happening?” said Meghan.
“Nothing that affects you,” said David, leaning between the front seats.
A well-lit gas station sat on the corner of the turnoff that would take them west, away from the airfield, the Jeep Wrangler waiting in one of the parking spaces in front of the entrance. Hopefully Hoenig and Fitzgerald had topped off the tank and filled the two fuel cans in back, in addition to grabbing food for the road. They had a long drive ahead of them.
He glanced across Route 31 at the runway, spotting the dark aircraft on the taxiway. Even with binoculars, there was no way to make any kind of determination until it lined up for takeoff. It didn’t matter, anyway. If it turned out to be an AC-130, the mission would have to be scrubbed. Postponed until the aircraft landed again. What if Ajax pulled out before they could launch another attack? The HUMVEE turned into the gas station parking lot.
“Sergeant Rudolph?” said David.
“Hold on,” said the sergeant, listening to the radio.
“We have to stop that aircraft,” said David.
“They’re making a decision. Hold on,” said Rudolph.
“There’s no time for that,” said David. “You’re not going to get another chance at this.”
“We can’t stop that thing,” said Chapman. “Unless we get unbelievably lucky with the M240.”
“Pull up next to the Jeep,” said David.
“David, what are you doing?” said his ex-wife.
“Look at me,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
When he had her undivided attention, he continued. “When we stop, you get in the Jeep with Gary and Fitz. They know what to do.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll catch up with you later,” said David. “Promise.”
“Joshua needs you, too,” she said, a hint of anger in her voice.
“I’ll be fine,” he said as the HUMVEE pulled up to the Jeep.
David jumped out, nearly colliding with Gary Hoenig.
“Do you see that?” said Gary, pointing across the street. “Could be a gunship.”
“Yeah. Change of plans,” said David, nearly tripping over himself to get at the back of the Jeep. “We’re ramming that fence and taking that aircraft out.”
Sergeant Rudolph stuck his head through his window. “We’d have to ram that thing to stop it, and I don’t think we’ll catch up to it at this point.”
David opened the back of the Jeep and removed the AT4 rocket launcher Rich had left behind. They’d given four rockets to Bravo team, led by Captain Gresham, to help him clear any vehicles or aircraft from the Ajax tarmac.
“We don’t need to catch up,” said David. “Just get me within a few hundred meters.”
“When’s the last time you fired one of those?”
said Rudolph.
“Long time,” said David. “But it ain’t rocket science.”
“It kind of is,” said Rudolph. “I’m qualified to fire that.”
“I’m still coming with you,” said David. “You need someone in the turret.”
“I’m coming too,” said Hoenig. “Because I’m out of my mind.”
“Where the fuck does that leave me?” said Fitzgerald, sitting in the Jeep’s driver’s seat.
“You take my wife west. If this doesn’t work for us,” said David, “drive her to my parents’.”
“I thought she was your ex-wife,” said Fitzgerald, grinning.
“Funny,” said David, turning to find Meghan standing behind him.
“Don’t argue. Get in the Jeep and get out of here,” said David. “Tell Josh I love him.”
“No. You tell him,” she said before disappearing behind the Jeep.
“I will,” he mumbled to himself, sliding into the HUMVEE with the AT4 cradled in his arms.
Chapter 32
Larsen listened to the heated debate over the command net with mixed feelings. David was right. They’d probably never get another chance at this. With Smith’s Special Purpose Force designated rogue and the rest of the battalion missing, it was logical to assume that Ajax would abandon the site—sooner than later. If the aircraft turned out to be an AC-130, the mission had to be postponed until it returned, which could be well into the morning. Charlie team’s part of the mission required a nighttime insertion, and their mission was arguably the most important.
“We’re ramming the fence,” said David, his voice resolute.
“Dammit. Put Sergeant Rudolph back on the net!” yelled Smith.
A few seconds passed before David responded, “We’re through the fence. PAYBACK is a go. I say again. PAYBACK is a go.”
“Motherfu—” started Smith, coming back a moment later. “Bravo, move into position along the compound’s northern perimeter. Charlie, head for the DZ. Prioritize the drone control container. Delta, start moving. Evacuation orders will be sent shortly. Alpha out.”
“He sounded pissed,” said Larsen.
“David made the right call,” said Rich. “Smitty, take us in low from the west. Pop up about five hundred meters before the original point. We’ll glide into their backyard and deal with the drone container first.”
The OV-10B banked left and picked up speed, straightening on its final approach.
“Two minutes,” said the copilot. “Hook up.”
Larsen attached his static line clip to the square hitch point next to Ragan’s head and scooted as close to the operative as possible, his knees squeezing against the sides of the woman’s parachute. The cargo hold barely fit the five of them, and he was told they could squeeze a sixth in if the first jumper sat on the edge of the cargo lip, feet flapping in the air. He couldn’t imagine it.
“One minute. Check your buddy!” said the copilot.
Larsen followed the yellow nylon line extending from the top of Ragan’s parachute rig, verifying that it wasn’t twisted, until Ragan took over and traced it to her own hookup point next to Rico’s head. He spent a few seconds examining Ragan’s parachute, looking for anything ridiculously obvious. Finding nothing, he slapped her shoulder, indicating that everything looked fine. Nobody slapped Larsen’s. When all the checks were finished, Rich reported they were ready.
“Thirty seconds! Hang on!”
The aircraft lurched forward, picking up speed for a rapid climb. Larsen grabbed the bar above him and tightened his grip. This was insane.
“Climbing!”
The aircraft turned skyward, the engines doubling their noise output. Within seconds, they felt nearly vertical. Gravity tugged him downward, putting an incredible strain on his hands, but his body stayed on the metal cargo floor. The red light next to the open cargo door blinked twice, turning green a moment later. Rich disappeared through the open hatch, followed by Jeff. He watched Rico closely, hoping to mimic his position leaving the aircraft, but he was little more than a dark shape sliding into the abyss. Ragan was gone moments after that.
“Fuck it,” muttered Larsen, releasing the bar and tucking his arms in tight across his chest.
He slid effortlessly out of the cargo compartment, floating freely for a second before he was yanked violently in his parachute harness. He looked up, finding the steerable, ram air parachute fully deployed above him. Locating the toggles, he quickly steered in line with the rest of the team, heading straight for the Ajax compound. Fortunately, the drone control unit had been placed behind the main buildings, close to where they’d land.
One by one, the parachutes deflated in front of him, until it was his turn. He steered to the right of Ragan and flared softly, dropping him a little lower. The parachute steadied several feet above the ground and carried him forward until he was even with Ragan. A last second pull on both toggles brought him into a near perfect landing.
Larsen landed on both feet, walking at a normal pace, which was merciful given the condition of his leg. A bad landing could have torn the internal stitches. He’d gotten used to the constant throbbing pain. Any more would be distracting.
The team quickly detached their parachute harnesses and prepped their weapons—lowering their night-vision goggles before stepping off. Larsen and Ragan brought up the rear, since it required the least amount of coordination with the rest of the team. Rich and his operatives would do the heavy lifting on this one, having worked together for years as a tight unit. Larsen and Ragan would watch over them while they put Ajax out of business, stepping in when required. Between the two of them, they had enough experience to read the situation and make that determination.
A sharp, distant explosion rattled over the compound, followed by automatic gunfire.
“Larsen, Ragan, you got the drone container. We have to press on,” said Rich. “David just woke up the neighbors.”
“Copy that,” said Larsen, splitting off from the group and heading left with Ragan.
Suppressed gunfire echoed between the haphazardly arranged double-wide trailers as Rich’s team went to work on anyone bothering to step outside and investigate the explosion. This part of the compound looked new, like it had all been delivered shortly after his CHASE team had deployed Friday night. Then again, he’d never really paid attention to this part of the compound. The CHASE section of the facility was on the other side of the tarmac.
He slipped past the last trailer and found the drone control container unguarded, a status guaranteed to change given that explosion. He crossed ten yards of open ground to reach the entry hatch, watching the gaps between trailers for first responders. The long side of the square container had two doors, indicating separate drone stations. He signaled Ragan, who quickly joined him. She definitely moved faster and more quietly than he did.
Movement in the gap between the closest trailers grabbed his attention, two armed guards appearing the moment he shifted his rifle to cover the approach. Two quick shots, one from each of their rifles, dropped them to the dirt, Ragan’s target still moving when he hit the ground. Larsen fired a third bullet, and the man went still. Gunfire continued in the distance, drawing more guards and staff out of their housing units. They needed to speed this up.
Grasping the handle to the closest door, he lifted upward, finding it unlocked. He pushed it open and stepped inside. The drone operator kept his focus on the controls in front of him.
“What’s going on out there? The colonel just ordered us to—”
The drone pilot never finished the sentence, his brains splattering the flight screen. Larsen reached over his slumped body and pushed the control stick forward until the blood-covered screen image showed the drone heading directly for the ground. When the picture went blank, he shut the hatch and pulled the handle shut. Ragan crouched next to the door, covering all of the visible approaches.
The door to the second control station flew open just as he pressed the handle down, the drone pilot
yelling out to him.
“Did you lose control—” he started before reaching frantically for his thigh holster.
Two bullets from Ragan’s rifle struck him in the middle of his chest, knocking him off the small retractable staircase. A quick glance around told Larsen they were alone. With Ragan watching his back, he pulled the second pilot back into the drone control station and guided the last drone into the ground—somewhere east of the airfield judging by the fireball.
“Alpha, this is Charlie-Lima. Both drones are down,” he reported.
Lima was his individual call sign.
“This is Alpha. Copy. We are three minutes out,” said Smith. “Charlie-Romeo, what is your status?”
“Breaching the main building,” said Rich. “I think the cat is out of the bag at this point. I recommend weapons free.”
“Concur. This is Alpha Actual. All units are weapons free. I repeat. All units are weapons free. Light ’em up.”
Larsen dashed from the drone container to the nearest trailer, hoping to avoid any further enemy contact before he reunited with the rest of his team. They couldn’t stay on the move, covering three hundred and sixty degrees, for too much longer. Not with the compound aware there was a problem with the drones.
Chapter 33
David tightened his helmet and climbed into the turret, taking a second to get used to the controls. He’d received a quick tutorial before they left for the correctional facility, and it seemed relatively easy. A thumb controller attached to the left side of the M240’s pistol grip allowed him to move the turret left and right with little more than a flick of his thumb. He could also elevate or depress the gun cradle, though most of the up and down motion was accomplished the old-fashioned way, by hand.
“Hang on!” yelled Chapman moments before the HUMVEE dropped into a wide depression at the edge of the base.
The aircraft disappeared momentarily, reappearing when the vehicle rose up a gentle slope. The four-propeller beast lumbered to the end of the runway and began to turn right, unmasking what all of them had feared from the start. A long cannon protruded from the fuselage behind the wing, in addition to a single smaller cannon under the wing. Somewhere forward of the wing, a 25mm Gatling gun sat recessed inside a hatch. As the AC-130 continued its turn, the cannons’ line of fire crossed over the speeding HUMVEE, leaving David feeling very vulnerable.
The Zulu Virus Chronicles Boxset (Books 1-3) Page 76