Hellfire

by Richard Turner

  “Yuri, we’ve got company!” hollered Sam.

  A split second later, Yuri banked his helicopter over in the air and flew away from the mountain road, aiming for the wide-open valley below. He didn’t need to be told that they were a sitting duck. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the smaller and more agile attack helicopter was pursuing them.

  Mitchell hung on to the back of the truck as it swung in the air. He could see the ground coming up much too quickly. If Yuri didn’t compensate for the truck hanging beneath his helicopter, he was going to smash it into the valley floor. At the last second, the helicopter stopped its downward dive and leveled out about fifty meters above the ground.

  Mitchell put his foot on a door handle at the back of the truck and hauled himself up onto the roof just as McMasters did the same.

  Mitchell reached for his pistol, only it wasn’t there. It had fallen out when he had jumped from the Rover onto the back of the truck. He saw McMasters reach into his own pocket. With a loud cry, Mitchell charged McMasters and hit him in the chest before he could pull his weapon out.

  Both men tumbled and landed hard on the roof of the vehicle. Mitchell was about to haul back his fist to strike his opponent in the face when Yuri was forced into another wild maneuver as the attack helicopter opened fire. Right away, Mitchell could feel the truck begin to swing over to the right. He let go of McMasters and dove for the nearest arm as the truck canted over in the air. He barely had time to grab hold of the arm. A moment later, his entire body slid over the side of the truck. He found himself holding onto the arm at the back of the truck while McMasters was in the same predicament at the front. Thankfully, McMasters can’t go for his gun, Mitchell thought.

  With his left arm wrapped tightly around the steel arm, McMasters dug into his jacket and pulled out his pistol. With a smirk, he brought up his arm and took aim at Mitchell. “You lose, Mitchell,” said McMasters as he pulled the trigger.

  Mitchell saw the gun in McMaster’s hand. He never heard the shot. A split-second later, a burning-hot pain shot through his left arm. Glancing down, he saw that the bullet had grazed him. Blood was already pouring from the deep groove cut into his skin. With anger seething inside him, Mitchell kicked out with his legs, trying to hit McMasters’ outstretched hand. His first attempt missed, but it forced McMasters to pull his arm in slightly.

  A moment later, Yuri was forced to evade another run from the attack helicopter. This time the truck began to swing over to the left. Like a pendulum, the truck swung down underneath the helicopter, bringing Mitchell and McMasters with it. Neither man saw it until it was too late. Yuri’s maneuver had forced him lower to the ground. The truck crashed through a tall pine forest, knocking the tops off the trees.

  Mitchell tried pulling his feet up towards his chest as the branches snapped off underneath the truck and flew everywhere, pummeling both men.

  One thick branch flew up and hit McMasters’s right arm hard, snapping his wrist. McMasters howled in pain as his pistol flew from his hand.

  Soon, they were out in the open again. Both men, injured and bruised, looked at one another for a moment. Their eyes said that neither man was going to give in until the other was dead. From opposite ends of the truck, they struggled to get back up onto the roof.

  “Goddammit, I’ve seen enough,” said President Kempt as he watched the feed coming in from a UAV flying just below the clouds. “We can’t allow that helicopter to be shot down and risk the anthrax being released. Somebody do something about that other chopper and do it fast.”

  Within seconds, the second Predator was diving from the sky. Having switched places with the unarmed UAV that Cardinal had shot down, the fully armed Predator was on the prowl.

  “What can we use to bring down that damned attack helicopter?” demanded the president.

  “Sir, the UAV was configured for a bombing mission,” said Patterson. “It’s not carrying any air-to-air missiles.”

  “There has to be something you can do.”

  “There is,” said O’Reilly over the speakerphone. “Get your Predator overtop of the Bo-105 and drop a laser-guided bomb right on top of him.”

  Kempt looked over at Patterson and Hook for their agreement. Both heads nodded as one.

  Cardinal wiped the blood from his eyes. A lucky shot had hit the outer skin of the helicopter near his head, sending a sharp piece of metal flying across his forehead. With Yuri bobbing and weaving like a prizefighter, Cardinal had been forced to take pot shots at the attack helicopter whenever he could. He knew that it would take a miracle for him to hit the other helicopter, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

  “Where is he?” asked Sam as she poked her head out the door.

  “Jesus, Sam, you’re going to get your head shot off if you keep that up,” admonished Cardinal.

  “Yuri’s all but blind up there,” said Sam. “I need to see for him back here.”

  A couple of moments later, she spotted their opponent flying just above the ground. Then, with a sudden burst of power, it leaped up into the air and placed itself directly behind the tail rotor of their helicopter. There was nothing they could do to stop it now. Sam reached over and grasped Cardinal’s shoulder. Even with Yuri’s crazy flying, it would be only a matter of seconds before they were shot from the sky.

  Mitchell gritted his teeth as he crawled up onto the roof of the vehicle. His left arm hurt like hell, but he did his best to block the pain. The only thing going for him was that McMasters wasn’t doing any better. The space on top of the truck was smaller than a boxing ring. Both men stood there, looking over at the other as if waiting for the other to make the first move.

  “You’re a bloody fool, Mitchell,” said McMasters. “You know Houston’s right, but you won’t admit it.”

  Mitchell shook his head. “You’re wrong, and so is he. Only one person can play God, and I think the job is already taken.”

  “Have it your way.” In a flash, McMasters drew a knife from behind his back and jumped up, trying to cut the hydraulic hoses keeping the arms locked tightly around the truck.

  Mitchell ran at McMasters, hitting him hard in the chest with his right shoulder, sending him tumbling down. He saw McMasters’ knife an arm’s reach away and made a move to grab it.

  McMasters may have been down, but he was far from finished. He kicked out his right foot, sweeping Mitchell’s feet out from underneath him.

  Pain shot down Mitchell’s wounded arm and into his back when he hit the hard metal roof. Before he could do anything, McMasters dove at him, thrust his left forearm under Mitchell’s chin and pressed down hard on his throat. Mitchell began to gasp and choke for air. It was like being slowly strangled to death by a boa constrictor. He tried to force McMasters off him, but it was no use; he was pinned beneath his opponent. Balling up his right fist, he sent it flying into the side of McMasters’ head. It was a powerful blow, but it wasn’t enough. McMasters grinned at Mitchell as he pushed down harder. Mitchell’s lungs burned for oxygen. His vision began to narrow.

  He was dying.

  Sam saw a black object suddenly appear from out of the clouds. It dove straight towards the attack helicopter. Her gut told her to hide. She jumped back and away from the door, pulling Cardinal with her. A second later, the thermobaric bomb exploded fifty meters above the Bo-105, in a brilliant flash of flame. The shock wave from the explosion shot downward, crumpling the attack helicopter as if it were made of paper. The searing heat from the powerful blast ignited the helicopter’s fuel tank. With a loud explosion, the Bo-105 flew apart, raining fiery debris all over the valley floor.

  Inside the logging helicopter, they all felt their helicopter rise up in the air as the blast wave invisibly surged past it. Sam and Cardinal grabbed whatever they could to keep from rolling about on the floor while Yuri fought to keep his ailing helicopter in the sky. He knew it was a losing battle. He leaned forward in his seat and chose a farmer’s field in the distance as the spot he would try to put the cho
pper down in, if it didn’t fall apart before then.

  As the blast wave shook Yuri’s helicopter, it also hit the truck hanging beneath, sending it careening wildly off to one side. Both men began to slide towards the side of the truck.

  Although close to blacking out, Mitchell stuck his leg out, hoping that it would catch on one of the metal arms before they both went over the side.

  Mitchell felt his leg hit something hard. He quickly wrapped his leg around it as he and McMasters flew out into the open air. His leg anchored them to the truck and kept them from falling to the ground below.

  McMasters realized at the last second what was about to happen and scrambled to hold on to Mitchell’s body. He pulled his left arm from Mitchell’s throat and grabbed on to the first thing he could, Mitchell’s right arm.

  Both men slammed hard into the side of the truck and hung down precariously as it flew through the air.

  Mitchell let out a pained cough as he took in a deep breath. He turned his head and saw McMasters clinging onto his arm. Below them was a rock quarry dug deep into the ground.

  “For God’s sake, please don’t let me fall,” pleaded McMasters as he fought to hold on to Mitchell’s arm.

  McMasters was prepared to kill billions, yet when faced with his own mortality, Mitchell saw that his opponent was nothing more than a coward.

  With a grimace, Mitchell brought his bloodied left arm over and sent it flying into McMasters’ face. Rage and anger surged through Mitchell. He wanted the man to pay for Maria’s death. He smashed his fist into McMasters’ face a couple more times, splitting open his lip, but the man wouldn’t let go of Mitchell’s arm. Weary and nearing the end of his strength, Mitchell reached over and grasped McMasters’ left hand. He slowly began to pry McMasters’ fingers away, one by one.

  “No, please show some mercy!” screamed McMasters.

  “I’ll give you the same mercy you gave Maria,” snarled Mitchell as he pulled the remaining fingers free from his jacket.

  With a loud scream, McMasters fell to his death.

  Mitchell took no satisfaction in killing McMasters. He was exhausted and numb inside. With a deep breath, he tried to climb back up onto the top of the truck only to find that he didn’t have the strength. He was just too tired.

  The quarry quickly disappeared from sight, and a long, flat field came into view. Mitchell could feel Yuri begin to slow the helicopter as he approached for a landing. The second the truck’s tires touched the ground, Mitchell let go with his leg and tumbled down onto the wet ground, hurt but thankful to be alive.

  53

  The Situation Room

  The White House

  The ending didn’t play out as President Kempt had planned.

  After taking out the rogue attack helicopter, he ordered the two Hummers in front of Houston’s SUV to be destroyed and Houston captured. A minute later, as the vehicles sped towards a bridge over a deep gorge, the UAV dropped a laser-guided bomb onto the lead vehicle, taking it and part of the bridge out with it. The second Hummer, speeding too closely behind, went sailing into the gorge and fell two hundred meters to certain destruction. Houston’s SUV, however, was farther back and came to a sliding halt at the damaged section of the bridge.

  Kempt turned to General Patterson and was about to tell him to vector the Special Forces team onto Houston’s location when a Land Rover came charging down the road like an enraged beast and slammed hard into the back of Houston’s SUV. The front two tires of the SUV were forced out into the jagged opening on the bridge. Before anyone could react, the Rover backed up and then sped straight into the back of the SUV, tipping it over the edge of the hole.

  Kempt stood there with his mouth open as a woman stood up in the Rover and waved up at the UAV’s cameras. She took a bow and then jumped back behind the wheel of her vehicle. He watched in disbelief as the Rover drove straight back off the bridge, turned around and headed onto a trail in the woods.

  “Sir, we can track her,” said Hook.

  Kempt sat down in his chair and shook his head. “No. Whoever she is, she may have done us a big favor. There’ll be no trial now. Let her go.”

  With that, the mission in Albania rapidly began to wind down.

  Jen and Owen were picked up walking down the middle of the road by a patrol of Albanian soldiers and brought to their headquarters, where they were turned over to an American liaison officer.

  The police found Jackson parked on the side of the road. With him were half-a-dozen lab technicians and guards who had been in the back of the semi-trailer but were now lying facedown in the mud.

  As for Mitchell, Yuri, Cardinal, and Sam, the Special Forces team sent to capture Houston was hurriedly dispatched to their location. While the medics treated Mitchell and Cardinal, the chemical warfare team took possession of the anthrax.

  The crisis was over.

  54

  Briefing Room

  Polaris Headquarters

  With a box of donuts in one hand and a tray of coffees stacked two high in the other, Nate Jackson walked into the briefing room and placed his usual assortment of treats on the table for everyone to share.

  “You’re five minutes late,” said Mitchell, as he helped himself to a coffee.

  “Have you seen the weather outside?” replied Jackson. “It’s snowing so hard, I thought I saw a polar bear walking around in the parking lot.”

  “Real funny, you should see a winter in Northern Minnesota. Now that is cold,” said Mitchell as he flipped open the box of donuts and grabbed the unhealthiest thing he could find. It’s good to be alive, thought Mitchell as he wolfed down the donut.

  “I saw that,” said Jen, as she walked into the room. “You may still be recovering from your gunshot wound, but that’s going to cost you another ten minutes on the treadmill tonight, mister.”

  “I can think of better things to do to burn off the calories,” replied Mitchell lecherously.

  “Like what?” asked General O’Reilly as he strolled in, accompanied by Mike Donaldson and Fahimah Nazaria.

  “Like nothing, sir,” replied Mitchell, turning beet red.

  Jackson chuckled. “That’ll teach you to be cute with your much-better half at work.”

  As was their routine, for the next few hours they went over every detail of the past mission from the first day they’d met Houston until their last day in Albania. Sam and Cardinal, along with Yuri, weren’t present as they were on an early holiday in Disney World with Sam’s nieces and nephews.

  After a quick break for a light lunch, they all met back in the briefing room to wrap up the debriefing.

  Mitchell started. “Sir, do you know who has the anthrax and where it’s being held?”

  O’Reilly said, “My sources tell me that it was taken lock, stock, and barrel to the Blue Grass Army Depot in Kentucky, where it will be disposed of.”

  “General, after all we’ve been through, do you believe them?”

  O’Reilly smiled at his protégé. “Time will tell.”

  “What about Houston? Did they ever find his body?” asked Jackson.

  “Not a trace,” replied Donaldson. “The SUV was found. The driver and a young blonde woman were found dead inside. However, Houston’s body was never recovered.”

  “I take it the government is looking for him?” said Jen.

  “Not just him, but anyone even the slightest bit connected to Houston and his genocidal plan,” said Fahimah. “It turns out that several high-ranking officers in the Pentagon have already resigned. I suspect that before all is said and done, dozens of key people inside and outside the government may be facing some pretty long prison terms.”

  “The women, the ones at Houston’s ranch, whatever happened to them?” wondered Jackson. “I overheard a couple of officers saying that they had been flown to Rome and were part of Houston’s plan to infect millions of people over the holidays.”

  Donaldson said, “It turns out they’re all innocent. None of them had any idea of what wa
s about to unfold.”

  “That’s some good news, at least,” said Mitchell.

  O’Reilly stood, reached into his jacket, and handed envelopes to Mitchell, Jackson, and Jen. “It’s your Christmas bonus. The rest of your team already received theirs, so take a well-earned holiday somewhere, and relax for a few weeks on Owen Houston’s dime.”

  “Glad to see someone appreciates our hard work,” said Jackson with a wink at O’Reilly as took his envelope and quickly stashed it away.

  O’Reilly ignored the quip and with a smile, he thanked his people for all of their hard work and left the room.

  A few minutes later, Jen and Mitchell made their way downstairs. They were about to head outside and jump into Mitchell’s Jeep when someone called out. Mitchell turned around and saw that it was the security guard who worked the front desk trying to get his attention.

  “Sir, this was left for you,” said the man as he handed Mitchell a bottle wrapped in Christmas paper.

  “Thanks,” said Mitchell.

  “Who’s it from?” asked Jen.

  “I don’t know.” Mitchell looked over at the guard and asked if he saw who dropped it off. The man shrugged his shoulders and said it was dropped off by special delivery about an hour ago.

  “The mystery deepens,” said Jen, raising her eyebrows. “Open it.”

  Quickly ripping off the wrapping, Mitchell looked down at the bottle. “Eighteen-year-old Laphroaig,” said Mitchell.

  “Ryan, you know that I don’t know one bottle of Scotch from another,” said Jen. “Is that a good one?”

  “Yeah, but it’s more than that.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “This bottle’s from Grace.”

  Jen frowned. “Now, why would she bother to send you a bottle of Scotch?”