Amazingly one of the security guards who’d checked them in was standing in a corner where a section of wall had left him completely untouched. He was blinking in shock and looked at Vaslik as if he’d seen a ghost.
‘You OK?’ Vaslik said, and shook his arm.
The guard nodded. ‘I think… I guess so. What happened?’
‘I don’t know. I think it was a rocket launcher. My colleague and I checked in our weapons and phones when we arrived. Where are they?’
‘Over here.’ The guard stumbled to a bank of secure lockers and opened one, and let Vaslik help himself. He stared uncomprehendingly at Vaslik and said, ‘What the hell do we do now?’
‘Make sure the building’s secure and help your buddies.’
He left the man and ran down a corridor where he found a fire door standing open and ran outside, heading towards the front entrance. The sound of gunfire had stopped so he didn’t expect to find anybody. In any case he figured that with all the confusion, there would be few armed officers or guards out here to do anything if the attackers launched another assault.
He skidded to a stop among the ruins of the entrance. It was as if a giant tin-opener had torn open the building, exposing the inner structure along with electrical wiring, water pipes gushing fluid and workers trying to clear rubble to reach the injured.
He recognised Karina Wright’s body, but she was beyond help, so he ran over to an officer with blood on his arm who was being tended to by a civilian on the front grass.
‘Where did they go?’ he asked.
The officer pointed, his eyes dulled by shock. ‘They headed south, then turned east… a white van with side doors… and one of those plastic windows on the roof.’ He sucked in air at a sudden movement of his injured arm. ‘Christ, man, it came out of nowhere. They had a rocket launcher and fully automatic weapons… and they just… they just hosed us down!’
‘How many men?’
‘I saw two but there had to be a driver, too. The launcher was in the back.’ He pointed to a tube lying in the street. ‘That’s it there. I returned fire and scored some hits but it didn’t slow them down any. They didn’t give a damn about who they hit… are you going after them?’
‘I might just do that.’ Vaslik punched in Dave Proust’s number and the former FBI man answered immediately.
‘What’s going on there?’ Dave demanded.
‘The jail’s been hit,’ Vaslik told him. ‘Three guys in a white van. There’s no way the locals can get a response in the air in time, so we’ll have to do it. Can you get here and pick me up? I’m right outside the jail. Look for the smoke – there’s enough space to land on the intersection nearby.’
‘On my way. Three minutes.’
Moments later Tom Brasher and Ruth arrived and Vaslik gave them a summary of the situation.
‘What are you going to do?’ said Brasher.
‘Stop them if we can. Dave’s on his way in and the attackers are heading east. It shouldn’t take long to catch up with them.’ He checked his gun and handed Ruth her weapon and cell phone.
They soon heard the throb of rotors, and turned to see Dave’s helicopter appear over the rooftops. It hovered for a few seconds to clear the intersection beneath, flattening the trees and scattering dust and smoke further over the surrounding buildings, before settling on the asphalt.
‘I’ll clear it with the local force and state police,’ Brasher said, ‘Just don’t go getting yourselves killed. I’d come with you but I need to talk to a few people in Washington before this gets out of hand. We can’t afford to have law enforcement all over the Altus area, but the White House needs to know what the situation is. Call it in when you find them.’ He nodded at Vaslik and clapped Ruth on the arm, then ducked back towards the building.
Ruth and Vaslik ran across to the helicopter and jumped on board.
‘Those guys must be suicide jockeys,’ Dave shouted as they belted themselves in and the machine rose in the air, over the noise of the rotors. ‘They have nowhere to go but open country. That means they could be looking for hostages. If we’re quick maybe we can stop that happening. You guys ready for this?’
They both nodded.
‘Armed and ready,’ said Vaslik.
43
‘I can’t see them.’ Dave was looking down on the US 64, flying at five-hundred feet and studying the traffic heading directly east. With his experience of flying, he’d told them he would be able to discount anything but white vans in an instant. Other than the highway, they could see only a thin network of narrow roads sprouting away north and south into open countryside with few buildings and even fewer moving vehicles.
Earlier, as they were heading out from Alva and leaving behind a growing pall of smoke from the burning front section of the jail, he had described the road layout in the area and where the attackers might be headed. ‘If they keep going east on the six-four, they’ll clip the Salt Plains Wildlife Refuge and State Park. Then it’s a long road to nothing.’
‘Is the park big enough to hide in?’ Ruth asked.
‘For a while, I guess. But it’s pretty open and there’s a lot of water and trees to navigate. In a van, I wouldn’t rate their chances on staying there for ever or not coming to grief with a busted axle or a burst tyre.’
‘Where else could they go from here?’
‘I guess a city would be their main aim. If they keep heading east until they hit the US Three-five, they could turn south towards Oklahoma City or Wichita in the north.’
‘Unless they plan on joining up with Malak at Altus.’
He nodded. ‘There is that. But that must be close on two-hundred miles. That’s a lot of driving on open roads and they must know they’ll be on every local and state cop’s radar by now. Frankly, I’m not sure these guys figured things out too well. They’re either crazy or dumb. Attacking a county jail in this territory, they were putting themselves way out on a limb.’
‘Maybe that’s what Malak wanted,’ said Ruth. ‘I got the impression from what Donny said that he’s a one-man show and doesn’t care much for the people he uses. They were a useful diversion while he disappeared.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened,’ said Dave. ‘But if you ask me, wild as it seemed, it still took some planning. He had to get the men and the weapons together, and I doubt he’d have gone to the trouble unless he had something to gain by it.’
‘What do you mean?’
Dave turned his head and looked at her. Suddenly she gained an insight to the FBI agent and man hunter he had once been, focussing instinctively on understanding and interpreting the situation that had unfolded. ‘Think about the timing: he can’t have been interested solely in busting Donny out of the jail because he wouldn’t have had time to get this team together. If we were in the middle of a big city, sure – he’d have had men on tap and ready to go. But out here?’ He shook his head. ‘It’s too big and open. They were already on their way when Donny got arrested.’
‘So why, then?’ Ruth asked the question but deep in her heart knew the answer already.
‘I think he was after you. This guy’s a thinker, we know that. He knew you were out there and that you must have come all the way from London to find Chadwick. That probably shook him; it showed personal commitment. So he must have figured that you’d hear about Donny being captured and that you’d want to talk to him. Wherever he was taken would be the best place to stop you.’
‘Killing two birds with one stone,’ Vaslik agreed. ‘Getting Ruth was one; shutting Donny up would be a bonus.’
‘That’s about the size of it.’
Ruth stared down at the distant fields and roads below, and felt a shiver of apprehension. It was hard to imagine any one man being so committed that he would go after a single person this way who wasn’t his primary target. But then, Malak was just that; he was committed to striking a blow against the United States and a man with that level of self-belief and determination would have seen any threat
to his plans as one worth dealing with, even at the risk to the men sent to do the job.
She looked up to find Vaslik watching her. He fluttered his eyebrows at her and smiled.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Sounds like he’d got the hots for you.’ He smirked and looked away, and Ruth dug him in the ribs with her elbow. She knew he was only trying to lighten the atmosphere, and appreciated it. But the thought that she had become a specific target was unsettling.
‘There,’ Dave said. ‘One o’clock heading south – a dust cloud. Hold tight.’
He took the helicopter down, aiming at a distant plume of white visible along a narrow road through a patchwork of vast fields. It quickly became obvious that the vehicle creating the dust was larger than a car but smaller than a truck and travelling very fast. Seconds later they had more detail: it was a white van.
‘It’s them – see the roof vent?’ said Vaslik.
Dave nodded. ‘Got it. What do you want me to do – track them while we call backup?’
‘No way.’ Ruth didn’t hesitate. ‘We have to stop them before they find hostages.’
‘Attagirl.’ He grinned and took the machine to within a couple of hundred feet of the van. At that height they could see that the rear doors had been peppered with holes and one of the glass panels was missing. As they watched, a head appeared briefly out of the passenger side window and looked up at them in obvious shock before ducking back out of sight. The van wobbled in response before the driver brought it back on track, narrowly missing a line of potholes along the verge.
‘Well, now they know we’re here,’ Dave commented, ‘we’d better get ready to duck. This could get heavy.’
As he spoke, the rear doors of the van flew open and the same man appeared. He stared up at them for a few seconds, then turned and brought something out from the interior of the van.
‘Assault rifle!’ Dave shouted, and took the helicopter away to the left and up, the engine howling in response. Ruth and Vaslik held on tight as behind them they heard the brief stutter of shots being fired, but none came anywhere near them.
Dave levelled out and stayed a quarter-mile out to one side, where the gunmen couldn’t reach them with any accuracy unless they stopped to take careful aim. ‘We need to get in front of them,’ he said, and increased speed, leaving the van behind.
After a few minutes he brought the helicopter round on a long curving course until they were facing back along the road towards the speeding van, now nearly a mile away but closing fast.
Ruth caught a flicker of movement to one side. Instinct told her there should have been none, and when she glanced over she felt her gut go tight. A track was bisecting the road the van was on, and driving along it towards the junction was a pickup truck.
A pickup with three children in the back, waving at them.
‘Dave!’ She pointed. If the pickup continued at its present speed, it would meet the men in the van. And that could only have one outcome.
Hostages.
But Dave had seen them. He nodded and took the machine down fast. The airframe rattled as the wind battered the fuselage, and it seemed to Ruth that the helicopter was standing on its nose with the ground below coming up much too quickly. Then he levelled off and the tail dipped before the skids touched the ground with a thump alongside the junction.
The van was now closing in, a billowing trail of dust testament to the speed it was travelling.
Vaslik was out first, gun in hand and running to meet the oncoming pick-up. He was waving his arms at them to stop, but it didn’t seem to be making any impression on the driver.
Ruth jumped out and watched the van. For a moment it seemed to be holding its course along the road.
Then without warning the van turned and tore across the verge, bursting through a thin line of wire and rough grass. Once clear, it began to speed up, bouncing over the uneven ground and trailing an even greater dust cloud like a pillar of smoke in its wake.
This put the men in the van on an intercept course with the approaching pickup, and it was clear what their intentions were.
Ruth turned and stared at Dave, who had joined her, the rotors of the helicopter still spinning slowly. ‘We have to do something.’
He took in the scene unfolding, with Vaslik still running but too far away from the pickup to be able to help. And Ruth saw by Dave’s face that getting back in the air would take too long; by the time he did that, the terrorists would have stopped the pickup and be in command of the situation.
Dave shook his head and turned away, reaching into the baggage compartment. When he came back he said, ‘Are you any good with these? If not, say so and I’ll do it. But I’m better with a handgun.’
He was holding an M4 carbine.
Ruth nodded. ‘I think so.’ It had been a while since she’d used a rifle, but she’d always prided herself on being reasonably accurate. The problem right now was, there was no time for error or hesitation because one glance told her the van was closing in fast on the pickup which was now slowing, the driver undoubtedly confused by what he or she was seeing.
‘You’ve got about twenty seconds,’ Dave said calmly as Ruth took the weapon. ‘Don’t waste time on the tyres – it won’t stop them. Aim for the driver’s door; these rounds’ll punch right on through.’ Then he knelt by her side and slapped his shoulder before clamping both hands over his ears.
She realised what he wanted her to do. She knelt alongside him, instinctively checking that the safety was off and the rate of fire selector was turned to a three-round burst. The weapon smelled oily and new, and she wondered if this was another Tom Brasher decision, just in case. If it was, the man had been amazingly perceptive.
‘Two hundred yards.’ Dave’s voice was steady, counting off the distance between the van and the pickup.
Taking a deep breath she zoned out everything else around her; the pickup drawing to a stop, the children in the back jumping out and staring towards the charging van with open mouths, the dying whine of the helicopter engine. Vaslik was still running, holding his gun in the air to draw the terrorists’ attention and make them slow down. But they weren’t stopping. In fact the side door was now open and the barrel of a rifle was visible where the gunman inside was trying to draw a bead on Vaslik.
Nothing else mattered, Ruth told herself. Just stop the men in the van. She breathed easily, nestling the butt of the rifle into her shoulder and bending her head to the optical sight. She felt the warm mass of Dave’s shoulder beneath her supporting arm, and the brief movement of his head as he watched the van. The view through the rubber eye-piece blurred for a moment, then cleared and steadied as she adjusted her stance against Dave and achieved a clear and steady line of sight. The van suddenly blossomed in the viewfinder, the face of the man in the side doorway bright and clear, struggling to line up his rifle on Vaslik while shouting something at the driver.
Ruth took another breath and let it out slowly.
‘A hundred yards.’ Dave again. ‘Do it.’
Ruth squeezed the trigger.
44
For a long moment nothing seemed to happen. Yet Ruth knew the burst of three shots had drilled right through the center of the driver’s door, leaving vivid holes in the thin white metal.
Then the vehicle’s nose dipped momentarily before it began to slow and wander off-course, finally turning away and coming to a halt.
The moment it stopped one of the side doors opened and a man jumped out. He dodged away to put the van’s body between himself and any incoming fire before Ruth could react. Seconds later the driver’s door opened and another figure appeared. But this one wasn’t moving easily. He dropped to the ground and rolled under the van, dragging a rifle behind him and tucking himself in behind the front wheel.
‘I see two,’ said Ruth. ‘Two only.’
‘Got it,’ Dave muttered.
Ruth checked Vaslik’s position. He was now running in towards the pickup and waving at the children to stay
back. They finally seemed to understand that this wasn’t a game, and turned and began running back along the track, followed closely by a man in a check shirt, coveralls and work boots.
‘Firing,’ Ruth warned Dave, and squeezed off another three-round burst, this time aiming at the man under the van, who she could see was bringing his rifle round to focus on them. The shots tore into the vehicle’s lower bodywork, one bursting the tyre next to the gunman, and she followed them with another burst, this time seeing the ground beneath the van being chopped up by the high-velocity rounds and raising clouds of dust.
The gunman stopped moving.
* * *
Andy Vaslik was feeling a sharp pain in his side. He hadn’t run this far in months, and knew any ability he might have had to use a handgun with accuracy was diminishing with every stride as his body began to shake with the effort and the rush of adrenalin. But he drove himself on, anxious to put himself between the gunmen and the children. He heard Ruth firing again and saw the effect as the bullets tore into the ground, and loosed off two hasty shots himself at the now stationary van to keep the gunmen’s heads down.
He glimpsed movement behind the van, and saw a figure kneeling down with a rifle to his shoulder. And it was aimed directly at him.
He swerved to put the gunman off, but the man wasn’t aiming for precision. Instead he let loose a burst of fire in Vaslik’s direction before ducking back. But one round was enough; Vaslik felt as if he’d been punched in the arm. He stumbled as he was thrown off-balance and felt his feet skate from under him like a party drunk.
It was the suddenness of that move that probably saved his life.
He heard a snap as another shot tore through the air where his head had been, and continued rolling, trying to ignore the pain blossoming in his bicep and to focus on not giving the gunman an easy target. He came to rest and adjusted his stance, pushing his gun hand forward and firing three times. In the same instant he saw the van’s side windows disintegrating as a volley of fire poured into them, and above the sound of a rifle, recognised the snap of a semi-automatic pistol as Dave Proust joined Ruth in firing at the remaining man, who threw himself down flat under the pounding gunfire.
The Drone Page 24