Betrayed

by Don Pendleton

  “And they’ll be able to see the beams from the flashlights. They can pick us off one by one,” Marino said.

  “Great suggestion, jungle girl,” Grover said, a wide grin plastered across his face.

  Kate stayed silent this time, deciding not to make any more novice suggestions.

  THE RAVINE RAN northwest for a mile, then started to veer to the west. It provided good cover but underfoot the ground was treacherous, the undergrowth and ferns hiding potholes and rotted timbers.

  Lyons called a halt and they flopped to the ground. Though the ravine had seemed cooler when they had entered, their steady march had made them aware of the heat trapped within the ravine and overgrown greenery. Now they were dripping sweat with every move. Their clothes clung to them.

  “If I lose any more sweat, I’m coming out of here minus twenty pounds,” Rafiq said.

  “You got that much to lose?”

  Lyons pushed to his feet and they moved off again, working their way along the ravine floor. After a quarter hour Lyons noticed the ravine sides were starting to shallow out. Another half mile and they were out of the ravine and back on what served as level ground. He noticed, too, that the trees were spaced out. The dense forest was behind them. They were emerging onto a wide plateau of open terrain. There was still an abundance of brush and fern, but the timber was petering out.

  They reached the edge of the tree line. Sloping ground stretched ahead, undulating green hills and depressions. Lyons checked out the western horizon and saw the rich colors of the setting sun. It was moving with an exaggerated slowness behind the far horizon. Shadows were forming. The sharp profiles of the landscape blurred and merged together as the dusk increased.

  “Now we get to sleep under the stars?” Rafiq said. “You know, I was expecting to do that with…I can’t even remember her real name now, but you get the idea.”

  “I do,” Lyons said. “Just don’t get any ideas, kid. I’m a light sleeper.”

  “As if, Benning. You’re not my type.”

  “COLD CAMP,” Marino said. “No fires.”

  In the packs the helicopter had dropped they found clothing, sleeping bags and food, bottled water. They distributed the contents of the packs.

  “No damn hot coffee?” Kate grumbled. “I’m going to make that son of a bitch, Benning, suffer for this.”

  “Here,” Marino said, tossing her a can of beans. “Just pretend they’re heated up.”

  “You’re so not funny, Greg,” she snapped back.

  “If your young boyfriend hadn’t run off,” Grover said, “you’d have something to keep you warm tonight.”

  “Something you’ll never get the chance to do.”

  “Ouch,” Grover said.

  “We’ll run three-hour watches. Jake, then Grover, then Kate. I’ll take the last watch. We’ll move out soon as it’s light.”

  They ate their cold rations. Harper picked his spot and took up his watch while the others wrapped themselves in the sleeping bags and settled down. There was little talking among them. The day had been long and fruitless. They had lost one of the crew but had failed to catch their quarry.

  Of the four it was Greg Marino who lay awake for a long time, running over the day’s events. Up until the arrival of Agent Benning things had been working to plan. The cabin had provided a secure place to hold the Mahoud kid. Kate had played her part well, keeping an eye on the kid until they received the get-go. She and Rafiq had driven up-country, taking the side road that led into the wilderness area. The kid hadn’t suspected a damn thing. He was still smiling when he’d walked through the cabin door. That smile had faded the moment he was confronted by Marino and the crew. He had seen their expressions, the guns they had been holding, and he knew that plans for a fun weekend had come to an abrupt halt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “This is not working,” Rafiq said.

  Lyons had called a brief halt. He glanced across at the younger man.

  “What?” he asked.

  “We could be walking like this for days. For all we know in circles. They call these places wildernesses for a reason. Because there isn’t an end to them.”

  “What’s the alternative?” Lyons asked. “Sit here and wait for that crew to find us? They won’t be bringing bottled water and a change of clothing, Rafiq. They want you, to make a bargain with your father.” Lyons let a hard edge creep into his voice. “If they do get what they want, what do you think happens then? Not a happy ending. They kidnapped you, Rafiq, and the Law comes down hard on kidnappers. So letting you go free isn’t an option. Understand?”

  Rafiq did understand, though he might not have wanted to accept the truth. He knew Benning was right. The people pursuing them were not about to give him up even if they got what they wanted.

  “Okay, you win, Benning. Maybe I’m just not the outdoor type. It’s just…”

  “Rafiq, you’re doing fine. It might not seem like it, but we’re getting there. Hell, I think I can smell the salt in the air from the Pacific.”

  Rafiq actually grinned. “No you can’t.”

  “I can smell something.”

  “Most likely the bullshit you’re feeding me.”

  Lyons slapped him on the shoulder. “Saw through me, huh?”

  “Like a pane of glass.”

  They moved off, Lyons taking the rear so he could make constant checks of their back trail. He had no doubt that Marino’s crew was still on their tail. Now that they had full daylight they would be moving fast, hoping to catch up to Lyons and Rafiq before they hit a regular trail and maybe even company.

  The terrain they were now moving through was mainly timber, with occasional breaks in the tree line where they were forced into the open. The undulating landscape, tending to downward slopes, concerned Lyons each time they hit an open stretch. He couldn’t do anything about that. As long as they stayed on their westerly course, they would eventually break out of the forested wilderness, but he had no idea how many more miles they needed to travel before that happened.

  By midmorning they had covered another wide stretch of open ground. Walking some ten feet ahead, Rafiq turned to speak. Before any words left his mouth, Rafiq froze, his eyes widening in alarm, and Lyons knew their time advantage had come to an end.

  The Stony Man commando didn’t pause to consider his next move. He simply made it. Powering forward, he covered the distance between himself and Rafiq in long strides, throwing out his left arm, the palm of his hand slamming into Rafiq’s chest. As the boy went down, Lyons followed him. They hit the ground, rolling, Lyons aware they were still a distance from solid cover.

  “Stay low. Head for the trees and keep going.”

  Rafiq did as he was told. Gathering his legs under him and bending low, he ran.

  Lyons turned on his back, heard the hard thud as a slug hit the ground only inches away, the crack of the shot following. He felt dirt rattle against his side as he twisted to face his attackers, the SMG snapping into position. He triggered a couple of quick shots and saw the group scatter as his slugs struck close by. He swung the H&K, tracking one figure and jacked out a trio of shots. The target paused, stumbled, but kept moving into cover.

  Using the brief confusion, Lyons pushed upright and took off after Rafiq. He saw the young man vanish in the trees. At least they had achieved that.

  A hail of slugs pounded the earth around Lyons’s weaving figure. He ignored them, refusing to let himself be put off his stride. As he felt the welcome protection of the forest close around him, Lyons heard the whack of slugs tearing at the trees, spitting splinters of bark and wood into the air.

  He could make out Rafiq ahead of him, moving fast. At least the kid knew how to obey an order. Lyons broke into a sprint behind him, wondering how bad his target had been hit.

  “SON OF A BITCH,” Grover mouthed.

  A slug had ripped through his left hip, narrowly missing bone. It had gouged a raw chunk of flesh free, leaving a bloody wound. Perched on a low rock
, Grover continued to curse at what he considered his bad luck.

  “I don’t mind you swearing,” Marino said, “but sit fucking still so I can tie this dressing down.”

  “You want us to keep after them?” Harper asked.

  “Go. Just go.”

  Harper and Kate moved off.

  “I am getting severely pissed off with Benning,” Marino said.

  “Really? How do you think I feel? The bastard shot me. A few inches to the fucking right and I’d be singing soprano.”

  “Nah, he was too far off to hit a target that small.”

  “Funny guy.”

  Marino finished binding the dressed wound. “You’ll need to take it slow. You’re still bleeding some.”

  Grover hitched his pants back up and reached for his weapon.

  “I’m not about to miss out on this. You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

  “Yeah?” Marino queried.

  Grover nodded. “Get the hell out of here.”

  “THIS IS GETTING CLOSE,” Rafiq said when Lyons caught up to him.

  “You think so?”

  The rattle of autofire cut through the forest. They heard slugs hitting the trees. The shooting was more random than accurate. Their pursuers were just letting them know they hadn’t quit.

  “That way,” Lyons said, steering Rafiq off to the north.

  The outcroppings thrust up from the forest floor. Large rocks and boulders, bleached by the weather, were covered in part by green moss. As they reached the outer groupings, Lyons guided his charge in through the overlapping stones. He could hear the pursuit getting closer. At least the rock barrier would offer them protection and maybe give Lyons a chance to hit back.

  He urged Rafiq on. They pushed deep in among the rocks until the kid held back.

  “Take it easy here,” he said.

  Lyons glanced ahead and saw the grassy area set in the curve of rocks. It was roughly oval in shape, reaching ten feet or so in width, with a sudden drop-off at its extreme edge. Lyons judged the drop to be around forty feet to more rocks and tangled vegetation.

  “We should go back,” Rafiq said. “No way out there.”

  Autofire crackled harshly, slugs pinging off stone.

  Lyons grabbed Rafiq and shoved him roughly down into a gap between high boulders. He crouched, seeing armed figures moving in their direction.

  Okay, Carl, you walked us into this corner, now get us out, he thought.

  He crouchwalked a few yards to draw any incoming fire away from Rafiq, then dropped and prepared to wait until the opposition moved again.

  Lyons didn’t have long to wait.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Harper broke cover, his face expressing the anger he felt, his patience worn thin by the protracted chase. He moved over the clustered rocks, his gaze fixed on Lyons’s last position. The second he locked on to Lyons he opened fire with his H&K. Lyons heard the solid thunk as the .45-caliber slugs gouged the stones behind his head. He leaned forward, bringing his own weapon on line, then dug in his heels and hauled himself to his feet. Harper registered Lyons’s move, twisted to meet the Able Team chief head-on and misjudged his step. He stumbled, sliding down on one knee, and Lyons hit him with a pair of hot slugs from his own weapon. They cored in through Harper’s chest, breaking a couple of ribs in the process. The mangled slugs still had enough energy to shred their way into Harper’s pumping heart, damaging it beyond repair. Harper flew back under the force of the heavy slugs, slamming down on his shoulders, and lay struggling against the pain engulfing his upper body. Blood pumped from the open wounds, spreading across his front until his ravaged heart shut down.

  Kate Murchison was closest to Harper. Seeing him go down, she allowed her anger to dictate her actions and stepped from cover, triggering her subgun recklessly. The weapon jacked out a short burst, then locked on a misfire. Instead of dropping back into cover she raced in Lyons’s direction, covering the gap in a few long strides. Out the corner of her eye she saw Harper’s bloody body stretched out across the rocks and a yell of sheer rage burst from her.

  LYONS HEARD the wild yell, turned and saw the unmistakable figure of Kate Murchison as she erupted out of cover. She was moving fast, swinging the empty SMG at Lyons’s head. He ducked under the swing and she reversed, swiping at him again, still yelling. Her rage had kicked aside any restraint as she launched herself at him. Her weapon slammed against Lyons’s, spinning it from his hands.

  Her booted foot flashed forward, catching his right thigh. The blow was enough to knock Lyons off balance long enough for her to swing the UMG subgun again. It clipped the side of his head, drawing blood as it gouged his flesh. The blow stunned Lyons and gave Kate the opening she needed to body slam him. They fell from the final boulder, sliding down the smooth side and slammed to the grassy ledge below. At any other time and place Lyons might have enjoyed such proximity with a supple female form, but this young woman, showing surprising strength, was out to do him harm.

  As they fell to the ground, with Kate on top, she swung a hard right fist that slammed against his jaw, snapping his head around with bruising force. Fingernails scraped bloody furrows along Lyons’s jaw. He threw out a blocking arm as she drove another blow at him, caught her wrist and twisted hard, heard her pained gasp. The pain forced her to pause briefly, and Lyons used that pause to backhand her across the side of her face. The blow pushed her back, exposing her to the full force of Lyons’s follow-up as he planted a booted foot against her taut stomach and pushed her away from him.

  The action lifted her off the ground, sending her sprawling. She rolled, pawing at her bloody mouth. Throwing her useless weapon aside, she came at Lyons again as he pushed to one knee. She slammed into him hard, the force of her contact pushing Lyons backward, and he had to fight to maintain his balance. Kate was throwing everything she had at Lyons, her blows erratic but telling when they landed. Without warning she stepped back, reaching behind her, the hand snapping forward holding the handle of a slim switchblade. The keen-edged sliver of steel caught sunlight as it shot into place. Kate circled, the knife moving as she looked for an opening.

  “I’m going to slice you apart,” she said. “I owe you.” Lyons stayed silent. He let her do all the talking. He could sense her anger building, pushing her toward an impulsive move. When she went for him Lyons almost missed it. He felt the blade slice across his forearm, drawing blood. Kate’s eyes shone with satisfaction. Her confidence made her reckless, almost clumsy, when she thrust again. Lyons had her measure now and he caught her knife wrist, hung on to it and turned sharply. He drew her arm across his shoulder and used her forward motion as a fulcrum to lift and throw her over his shoulder. She arced above him, her body twisting in midflight and Lyons caught a glimpse of her horrified features just before she cleared his body and went over the ledge screaming. She was still screaming when she hit the base of the drop forty feet down.

  GROVER HEARD THE RATTLE of autofire and realized his partners had caught up to Benning. Ignoring the savage ache from his bloody hip, he increased his pace, limping badly, but determined not to miss out. He owed Benning for the pain he was suffering.

  The mass of rocks confronted him and he scrambled over them, eager to be in on the finale. In his rush he stumbled, scraping his injured hip. He felt the blood starting to weep again, but ignored it. Sweat glistened on his face as he pulled himself to the top of a curving boulder and looked down.

  He saw Harper, down and bloody, and caught a final glimpse of Kate as Benning flipped her over his shoulder, spinning her into empty space. Her shrill scream froze him for a moment.

  He dragged up his UMG, his hands trembling, and as he drew down on Benning Rafiq Mahoud yelled out a warning. His shot went wild.

  Benning cut across the ledge, making a dive for his weapon feet away.

  Turning to keep the moving figure in his sights, Grover put weight on his damaged hip and it burned with pain.

  He moved the muzzle again, searching briefly for Be
nning.

  And saw the man bringing his own SMG on line.

  LYONS SNATCHED the UMG from the ground, rolled on his back and jerked the trigger as he pulled Grover into his sights.

  The H&K fired on full-auto, expending the remaining shots in the magazine. He saw the slugs pound Grover’s body, turning the merc half around. Grover fell on his back, sliding down the face of the boulder, body limp. He slammed to the ground facedown.

  “Benning.”

  Lyons glanced around. It was Rafiq, gesturing wildly. He was pointing to the far curve of the boulders. As Lyons looked that way, he heard the slam of a shot, felt something tear into his left thigh. The impact knocked him off his feet. Pushing back on the pain, Lyons lunged upright and stumbled in the direction of Rafiq’s shelter. More shots crackled, slugs kicking up gouts of dirt. Lyons half fell over the protruding rock and hit the ground hard. For a moment he lay stunned, the pain from his wound triggering nausea.

  Then he felt hands grasping his shirt, dragging him forward.

  “Come on, Benning, this is no time to be lying down on the job.”

  Lyons got his good leg under him and pushed himself upright.

  “This way,” Rafiq urged. “There’s cover.”

  Lyons wiped sweat from his eyes and saw they were moving into some kind of cave. It looked to go a long way back, and Lyons saw light at the far end.

  They moved yards into the cave before Lyons heard the scuff of boots behind them. He hauled himself to a stop, leaning against the cave wall.

  Greg Marino was there, his weapon aimed at Lyons.

  “No more running, Benning. I’m tired of chasing you.”

  He centered the weapon.

  Rafiq stepped around Lyons, shielding him with his own body.

  “You’ll have to shoot me first.”

  Marino’s laugh had a nasty edge to it. “Maybe I’ll do that, sonny.”

  “And lose your bounty?” Rafiq said.