The pilot in the lead Gazelle had forgone the hiring of a weapons officer for this well-paying opportunity, out of greed. The two pilots would share their reward with no one. After all, they were only going after a slow-moving river craft. They could handle the attack themselves.
He called his wingman and gave his instructions. He reached out and turned on his FLIR radar. The forward-looking infrared system activated and showed the coolness of the jungle and trees below. Then as they crossed the winding and unseen tributary below, the target they were seeking came into full view. It was marked clearly through the canopy of trees as a long, very bright ambient red color as it churned away slowly below. The fools would never know what hit them. He pulled the safety cover from his trigger mounted on the control stick, and selected his guns. He had elected not to bring the missiles he had stored in Colombia because he felt it would be a waste; they would have trouble penetrating the trees below. But twenty-millimeter rounds wouldn't have that problem, as they would smash their way through any protecting wood surrounding their target.
The lead pilot smiled as he brought his Gazelle to full power and made his turn for the dark jungle below. His unsuspecting target didn't know it yet, but they were about to be destroyed by a lightning strike from heaven.
USS TEACHER
Jack stood up from the navigation table. A familiar noise had entered his train of thought and then vanished. He glanced over at Carl, who was staring at the cup of coffee that sat near the table's edge. A minute tremor was making the dark coffee inside shimmer in the dim lighting of the cabin. Jack reached out for the intercom.
"Chief, have you turned any systems on in the last thirty seconds?"
"It's late, Major, not the time to be using equipment we don't need." Jenks clicked off.
"Kill the engines," Jack said as he looked at Carl and then Sarah.
Suddenly the boat went dead quiet. As they listened with faces cast in varying colors from the navigation screens on the table, Jack tilted his head. He heard it immediately. He reached for the intercom again.
"Chief, restart the engines and wait for my word; we may have company."
"Goddammit, we're not a warship, Major; I told you that."
"Chief, shut up and be ready."
"What do you think, Jack? Brazilian?" Sarah asked.
Sarah finally heard the soft whine of engines from outside. She was amazed the two officers had noticed it above the sleep-inducing drone of Teacher.
"No, Brazil uses the Kiowas and old Hughies we sold them." Jack closed his eyes and leaned on the table, listening more intently. "These are Gazelles. French-built attack helicopters."
"Goddamn, are you sure?" Carl asked as he went over to the wall-mounted phone.
"I heard enough of the little bastards in Africa and Afghanistan to last a lifetime."
"Will, go to the arms locker and get a fire team on deck," Carl said into the phone.
He hung up the receiver just as forty twenty-millimeter rounds smashed into Teacher. Jack pulled Sarah to the floor as the red-hot bullets punctured the thin composite hull and passed through to the water below. Jack didn't bother to use the intercom this time as he shouted out toward the cockpit, "Get your ass moving, Chief!"
The order was redundant as Jenks had already slammed Teacher's throttles to her stops. The large boat sluiced into the center of the tributary and then started evasive zigzagging. He knew exactly what was happening, and the way to beat some of the fire from above.
Around them they heard the screams of the doctors and professors as they were jolted awake by the sheer noise and terror of the large rounds hitting Teacher. The military personnel were trying their best to get them behind equipment and under tables as another assault slammed into them. The red tracer rounds passed through the thin hull easily and smashed equipment as it did so. The noise was absolutely horrifying.
"You stay here!" Jack yelled at Sarah. "Come on, Carl, we can't take much more of this."
Both men gained their feet and ran to the winding staircase in the next section, ducking when more steel-jacketed rounds slammed into them. The red phosphorus tracers ignited fires in the boat's interior as they went though the hull like a kid punching holes in a soda can. The sound of breaking glass and exploding fire extinguishers sounded throughout the boat as Jenks swerved from riverbank to riverbank.
Mendenhall, Sanchez, and even Professor Ellenshaw were already on deck. The professor, standing on the rubberized flooring, was reaching up to supply magazine after magazine for the two M-16s being used by the two security men as they fired blindly up into the trees toward the sound of the turbines passing overhead.
"Situation, Will?" Jack screamed as he tossed to Carl one of the M-16s Mendenhall had stacked on the deck. The lieutenant commander didn't waste time; he pulled the charging handle and opened up at one of the low-flying assault choppers. His own tracers stitched the sky and disappeared into the tree branches above them.
"I think there are two, can't be sure. Our return defensive fire ain't getting through the trees. We're going to get our asses kicked!" Mendenhall said as he inserted another magazine while more of the tracers slammed through the trees. They hit water at first and then the awful noise of rounds hitting the hull of Teacher sounded, as one of the science labs took heavy damage. He looked down as Ellenshaw, white hair flying in panic, reached up with another full magazine. "Goddammit, stay down, Professor, until I ask for one!" Mendenhall shouted as he used his foot to push the crazy bastard back onto the deck.
Jack heard the scream as one of the Gazelles came low. He pointed just ahead of where the chopper should be, and Carl, Mendenhall, and Sanchez opened up. Bright white-hot tracers arched up into the canopy, and with dawning horror Jack saw over 90 percent of the light 5.56-millimeter rounds ricochet off branches and tree trunks, not able to slam their way through to the sky and the attacking ships above them.
Damn!" he said. More tracer fire erupted around them as both Gazelles opened fire. The scene felt like something out of a science-fiction movie as lines of twenty-millimeter rounds resembling laser weapons struck the water and boat around them. The choppers were stitching the area with death and destruction even while they were, themselves, impervious to their return fire.
* * *
Below, the master chief knew he didn't have the time he needed to find adequate cover for his slow-moving target duck that was lined up as if in a carnival's shooting gallery. He howled in frustration as more thumps sounded throughout his boat.
"By God, that's just about enough of this!" he yelled as he reached out, took Virginia's slim hand, and thrust her fingers around the throttle and rudder control located on her chairs armrest. "Take the wheel, doll; keep zigzagging as much as possible; just don't slam the old girl into the riverbank. Keep her moving no matter what." He left his seat and, before exiting the cockpit, leaned over and kissed Virginia on the cheek. "Be right back, dollface, it's fucking time for the cavalry to show up."
Virginia didn't hear a word Jenks had said. Her eyes were wide and she was too busy shaking, which in the long run increased their survivability, as Teacher rocked from side to side when she shook the temperamental controls. She even failed to realize the master chief had pecked her on the cheek.
* * *
Abovedecks the security team knew they were fighting a losing battle. It was obvious to Jack and Carl that the shooters orbiting above the tree canopy had a FLIR system and were using the boat's own heat signature to track them through the trees.
"I'd give my right nut for a Stinger right about now," Carl said as he emptied a twenty-round magazine into the overhead branches, hoping at least three or four rounds could pop their way through.
Jack kicked himself for not including some kind of airborne defense in their small arsenal of mostly automatic weapons.
Suddenly, weapons fire opened up from the bow's upper deck as Sarah, Danielle, and a few of the scientists began shooting with arms from the forward locker. There were now ni
ne M-16s firing blindly upward into the canopy.
"Good girl," Jack mumbled as he quickly inserted another magazine.
At that moment, a long line of twenty-millimeter red tracers broke through the trees and stitched a long line of holes across the bow. They heard a scream; one of the female assistants working with Professor Keating had cried out as one of the large rounds nicked her arm. Jack could hear the damage the shells were doing to the interior of Teacher as whoever was at the controls now directed the vessel toward the middle of the tributary.
* * *
A mere hundred feet above the tree line, the two Gazelle gunships swung around. Their target was far more evasive than they were led to believe. Mendez only said they would encounter a riverboat. But this craft was maneuvering as if it were a river patrol boat. And they were taking an inordinate amount of fire from below. So far the lead Gazelle had felt the distinctive thump of several small arms impacts against its aluminum fuselage. Whoever was below had organized a defense against the attack with lightning speed, and the volume of fire was amazing.
Mendez radioed the second Gazelle that they should make a scissoring maneuver and come at their target from two different directions, catching the boat below in a crossfire that should at the very least disable it. He would concentrate fire on the bow and his wingman would take the rear, possibly hitting the engine compartment, and bringing the evasive vessel to a stop. Then they could strafe the craft at their leisure.
The two French-built Gazelles climbed to an altitude of two hundred feet and then split apart. They would start their killing run in two minutes. They would line up the copters with the aid of the FLIR and start their assault as early as a thousand yards from target. Giving their ammunition a far better chance of slicing their enemy in two.
* * *
Jenks fought his way into the navigation and sonar section of the boat. Several heavy rounds had at one point almost ended his career as they slammed into the hull and rocked the galley area, sending pots and pans everywhere. He spotted three of the lab technicians, who were hiding behind one of the couches in the crew lounge. Instead of feeling sorry for the two women and one man, he started kicking at them as they tried to crawl away.
"Get you fucking asses out there and defend yourselves, you fuckin' idiots. Move, I said." He took a final swipe at the crawling techs and then turned and made his way to his seat at the navigating console.
The technicians quickly stood and ran for the spiral staircase that led to the upper deck. They must have figured that the odds of surviving the bullets outside were far better than they would get facing the master chief.
Jenks reached out and pulled up a clear red-tinted cover that had a flash symbol on it. Then he turned in his chair and hit several switches marked dwael. He watched as a monitor located above the sonar and communications panel flickered to life.
"Sons of bitches want to play with technology, we'll fuckin' play with technology," he grumbled as he hit the FLIR tracking system he had installed at the last minute when it had been offered to him by the Event Group technicians in New Orleans. It had been installed for use in detecting animal movement where thick cover foliage was blocking all other sensory systems. Now he would use the forward-looking infrared system and DWAEL to make a whole new weapon, a stinger for the old Teacher. The deep-water argon-enhanced laser was a new system that was to be used for getting precise readings on deep canyons of unknown waterways, such as the supposed lagoon they were heading for. But little did most of the public and military know, the laser itself, if turned to full power, could be used as a very efficient cutting instrument. The main problem was supplying the system with enough juice from Teacher's generators to switch it from being a depth finder to a killing weapon. The master chief, though, knew his boat. He reached out and found the main power connection for Teacher's many systems and then isolated the sonar console and generator stations. He pulled as hard as he could on the main conduit, breaking the line free from the cabinet, which in turn popped the emergency breakers for everything except the systems he had isolated, causing a major breakdown in the boat's power grid. In layman's terms, the master chief had basically pulled the plug.
* * *
On the upper deck, Jack and the others held their fire as they heard the screaming approach of the Gazelles' charging at Teacher from above. He encouraged everyone to aim at the noise. He knew it was a lost cause, but they had to try something.
Suddenly a warning horn blared and Jenks's voice came out over the loudspeaker on the tower.
"All hands, grab your socks and hold your cocks! Hit the deck and keep your eyes closed!"
Jack and Carl hollered for everyone to get down. They heard a motor engage and, before Jack threw himself to the rubber-matted deck, he saw a small section on the starboard side of Teacher rise. A long, cylindrical arm was hydraulically activated and swiveled its clear glass head around as the arm extended from the opening. It resembled a ballpoint pen with a lightbulb attached to the tip. Immediately recognition dawned in Jack's eyes as a memory flashed into his mind. He recalled his days at Aberdeen proving ground, specifically the Argon laser systems they had been working on, a larger version of what he had just seen come up from Teacher's hull. But he knew that they were using it for many nonmilitary things like speed and radar enhancements, measuring tools that were accurate to the millimeter. What was the master chief up to?
He heard the generators below deck go full throttle just as Virginia brought Teacher to the center of the tributary again. Then the engines shut down. The hairs on Jack's arms began to tingle and he smelled ozone in the air as electricity was being put out at a monumental rate of power. The current was starting to escape containment and the hair of everyone on deck began to rise.
"Oh, shit, stay down!" Jack yelled just as the helicopters above the trees let loose with their cannon.
Rounds started striking the water three hundred yards from Teacher. The red tracers came down in a magnificent straight line as the two attacking Gazelles made their way to the stalled boat. Then suddenly a loud crack sounded from everywhere. Teacher's bulk was slammed into the water as Jenks discharged the power that had built up in the laser, sending out a straight beam of white light that burned its way through the thick canopy of trees in a microsecond. As the beam reached out, the cutting began.
* * *
The lead pilot saw something explode from below; his target's being covered by trees, he thought sure he had hit one of the enemy's gas tanks. Then suddenly the trees disappeared in a bright flash. He was momentarily blinded as a brilliant white light shot up and out. The beam caught his wingman cleanly down the middle of the Gazelle, neatly slicing the helicopter into two distinct pieces and sending its spinning rotor blades off in all directions. The white-hot beam ignited the aviation fuel and the remains of the copter plunged neatly through the trees into the river below.
The leader immediately ceased his run and let up on the trigger as he turned his Gazelle away from whoever had just fired at them from below. The nature of that weapon he didn't know, nor did he care to remain and find out firsthand what had so suddenly ended the life of one of his employees. As he ventured a look behind him, the brightness of the beam of light lessened even while it still searched the area for its second target. The pilot turned the throttle on his collective all the way to the stops and tried to turn, but the beam, though faded in intensity, turned with him. It easily sliced through his tail boom. The helicopter started to spiral out of control. The trees rushed up and the pilot closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable, crushing death that was waiting only seconds away.
* * *
Jack knew they were lucky. Teacher, still out of power and drifting, floated past some of the remains of the first Gazelle. As he watched the burning wreckage slide below the dark waters, he had his proof that someone was out to stop them at all costs from reaching the lagoon.
* * *
Ten miles to the stern of Teacher, Farbeaux had thought he s
aw the flash of gunfire through the canopy. He walked to the bow of the Rio Madonna and stared out into the darkness. He was soon joined by Captain Santos.
"You saw this thing also, senor?"
"I saw something."
"Ah, perhaps it was just heat lightning, a common thing on the river." Santos watched the Frenchman for a reaction. The captain was pleased to see the frown on his face.
"Perhaps." Farbeaux turned away and saw that Mendez and his pet killer hadn't moved from the fantail. They sat silently at their small table watching the night around them. The only visual evidence that they were there at all was the soft glow of Mendez's cigar, and even that hid the smile on his face.
15
It took six hours to patch the holes in Teacher. Jenks had taken the pats he received on the back as well as expected as he supervised the repairs, grumbling about the slow reaction time of his crew, claiming they could have defended his boat faster than they had. If the truth be known, he had been stunned at how fast the major had organized the defense. Jenks now regarded the army officer with a little more respect.
The good news was the engines weren't hit. They started downriver as soon as the worst of the hull breaches had been fixed. The rest of the time was spent putting back the pieces of the boat's interior.
On watch abovedecks in the early morning hours after most of the major repairs had been made, Mendenhall, Sanchez, and Sarah watched the low-hanging branches slide eerily close to their heads. The antenna tower had been lowered again since they entered the rain forest, otherwise they would surely have lost it by this point. The drone of the engines, coupled with the anticollision strobe atop the deck fore and aft, lulled the lookouts as they fought to remain awake.
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