Lucifer's Fire

by Richard Turner

  “That is correct. Is he one of yours?”

  “Yeah, he’s my boss.”

  “I hope that you aren’t lying to me, Mister Jackson. I can have one of the other hostages, a woman perhaps, brought over and shot in front of you if I think that you are making any of this up,” warned Seras coldly.

  “I have no need to lie to you. All we want are the hostages freed. You can have your diamonds.”

  Seras looked into Jackson’s eyes, studying them for the slightest hint of duplicity. Seeing none, she said, “Mister Jackson, do you know where the diamonds are?”

  “No, I haven’t a clue where Ryan found them.”

  Seras’ eyes narrowed. “Mister Mitchell threatened to destroy my diamonds. Is he the kind of person who would follow through on such a threat?”

  “Lady, the guy’s certifiable! If he said he’s rigged your precious diamonds with explosives, then you had better believe him.”

  “What would happen if I were to kill you and all the other hostages before taking possession of the treasure?”

  Jackson’s expression turned deadly serious. “I don’t know who you are, and I really don’t care to know, either. However, I can tell you that it would be an incredibly stupid move on your behalf. Ryan Mitchell wouldn’t hesitate to destroy your diamonds and then hunt you down. There would be no place on the planet where you would be safe. He’d find you and gut you.”

  “Well, then, I guess I have no alternative but to let you all go,” said Seras.

  “I’ll make arrangements to have the Liberian civilians driven back to their villages,” said Gray. “As for the Americans, I will have a truck brought over for them to use right away.”

  “Is this acceptable, Mister Jackson?” asked Seras.

  “Yeah, I guess it is,” replied Jackson, not sure if he should believe his captors. His gut told him to remain wary.

  With that, Jackson was escorted back over to the other hostages, where he took a seat and passed on the news.

  Seras looked over at Gray. “So, Gray, what do you intend to do?”

  “I will have Taylor take charge here while you and I, accompanied by your men, go to meet Mitchell. Unfortunately, most of the Liberian army trucks are old and will experience engine difficulties until we have taken possession of the diamonds. After that, Taylor can exterminate the hostages and the villagers, thereby removing any potential witnesses from the equation.”

  With a sinister grin on her face, Seras nodded her concurrence. She called her lead bodyguard over and told him their plan and to get ready to leave. Soon she would have a virtual monopoly on laser technology. Before the day was out, she knew she would be the richest woman on the planet.

  The only thing that stood between her and her dreams was a man she had never met. Shaking her head, Caroline Seras couldn’t understand why a person would risk their lives to free people they had never met when they could walk away with a fortune.

  35

  “Looks like they are shutting down operations,” said Cardinal from up on his perch.

  “Can you see Nate?” asked Sam.

  “Yeah, he and the other prisoners are just standing around. They’re still under guard, but they have most definitely stopped digging. Also, that woman who came in via that helicopter and her bodyguards are climbing into a couple of SUVs.”

  “I’ll let Ryan know.” With that, Sam placed a quick call to Mitchell to let him know what was going on.

  As it would take Seras and Gray a good ninety minutes to reach him, Mitchell asked Sam to call him every fifteen minutes with an update. Like Jackson, Mitchell knew better than to take Seras at her word.

  “What do you figure, do you believe that they going to live up to their end of the bargain?” asked Mitchell.

  “I don’t know,” said Sam, “Cardinal said that the Liberians seem to have developed an awful lot of engine problems. As far as I can tell from where I am standing, not a single truck is ready to start shuttling anyone from the dig.”

  “This is beginning to smell.”

  “I agree. I’m going to have Emily and Terry find some low ground and then move up to the edge of the jungle. Cardinal and I may have to help Nate if things turn south fast.”

  A couple of minutes later, Sam crawled to the edge of the jungle and then lay down. She brought up her AK and took aim at the soldiers standing closest to Jackson. If the Liberian soldiers turned on their captives, it would only take seconds for a massacre to occur. With her rifle tight in her hands, Sam waited and prayed.

  Kilometers away, Chang studied the image on the laptop screen of two SUVs accompanied by a couple of jeeps filled with soldiers leaving the dig. Turning onto the dirt road, the small column started to drive south, toward Mitchell.

  He had seen enough. He immediately knew that Mitchell must have made a deal: the treasure for the hostages’ lives.

  “Grace, call Roberts and tell him to land the UAV. Once he has it, he is to make his way south and join us at Mitchell’s position,” said Chang.

  Chang knew that he was closer to Mitchell than Gray and his people. If he got on the road right away, he would beat them there. He ordered his men to load up their Rovers. Chang patiently waited for Grace to finish her call before jumping into his vehicle. Less than a minute later, they were on the red-dirt road, driving their battered Rovers for all they were worth. At the speed they were going, he guessed that they would arrive a good ten minutes ahead of Gray. Plenty of time to take the diamonds for themselves and to set a trap for Gray.

  Payback is going to be a bitch, thought Chang.

  Sixty minutes passed.

  Jackson was becoming edgy. He didn’t like what he was seeing. So far, not a soul had left the camp. Most of the Liberian soldiers had quietly moved away from the civilians and the hostages and were milling around about fifty meters away in an open field.

  “What’s going on, Nate?” asked Cristoval, nervously eyeing the soldiers.

  “I think we’ve been set up. I hate to say it, but they had no intention of letting us go,” replied Jackson.

  “Oh God, what are we going to do?” said the young Asian woman.

  “Well, we’re not going to sit back and let it happen that’s for sure,” said Jackson resolutely. “When the shooting starts, run for the cover of the jungle, don’t stop, and whatever you do, don’t look back, just run for your lives.”

  “Nate, what about you?” asked Cristoval.

  “Me? I’m going to kick over a hornet’s nest, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

  Jackson looked over at the Liberian soldiers who had bravely defied orders and were now facing the same fate as the rest of their countrymen. Calmly strolling at the soldiers, Jackson spotted a young man with a confident look on his face.

  “Excuse me, but who is in command here?” asked Jackson, barely above a whisper.

  “I am,” said the young man. “My name is Lieutenant Moore.”

  “Okay, Lieutenant, my name is Nate Jackson, and I think your former army friends intend to kill every last one of us.”

  “They are not soldiers, they are nothing more than traitors,” said Moore bitterly.

  “Lieutenant, we have perhaps a minute or two before they march us out into that open field and mow us all down, and I for one don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “What do you propose we do?”

  “Have your men start to loiter around. They should spread out and slowly edge their way toward their former colleagues. When the time comes, have your men rush them and kill every last son of a bitch who resists.”

  “What will the signal be?”

  Jackson smiled. “Trust me, you’ll know it when it happens. Now, Lieutenant, get your men on the move.”

  While Moore quietly briefed his men on precisely what he wanted them to do, Jackson jammed his hands in his pockets, struck up a tune and then began to walk toward the nearest group of rogue soldiers.

  When he was perhaps ten meters from the men, he stopped, pulled his hand
s out of his pockets, and then slowly and deliberately stretched his arms over his head.

  “Is Nate pointing at someone?” asked Sam, watching Jackson oddly contort his body so that his hands were held out in front of him.

  “Yes, I think he just pointed at the two soldiers standing in front of him,” replied Cardinal.

  “I guess it’s showtime,” said Sam, getting up on one knee so she could see better.

  “Looks that way,” said Cardinal, taking up the slack on his sniper rifle’s trigger.

  Hoping that his friends got his cue, Jackson dropped to one knee.

  The sound of Cardinal’s rifle firing echoed through the camp.

  Before the first soldier’s dead body hit the ground, his partner standing next to him suffered the same fate.

  Like a sprinter hearing the sound of the starter pistol firing, Jackson was off. He ran forward, dove to the ground and scooped up the first AK he could see. He came up on one knee with the rifle in his shoulder. He took quick aim and fired off a long burst into a group of stunned soldiers who were still unaware that the tables were about to turn on them.

  From off to the side, Sam opened fire on the soldiers as they vainly tried to fight back. The first to fall were the officers and the sergeants who were trying to get the dumbfounded men under their command to fight.

  Cardinal, like the Grim Reaper, moved his scope from target to target, dropping anyone who tried to fire back at Nate or Sam.

  With a loud cheer, Moore’s men turned on their former comrades; like a wave surging from a burst dam, they charged straight ahead.

  A couple of Moore’s men fell, but it wasn’t enough to stop them. Screaming at the top of their lungs, they picked up picks and shovels as they ran. Bursting among the throng of rogue troops, Moore’s men hacked and smashed their way through the terrified mob. Men who had until a couple of days ago been comrades now fought to the death. Blood flowed like rivers.

  Lieutenant Colonel Taylor stood there, fixed to the ground. His feet felt like lead. Staring at the death all around him, Taylor tried to reach for the pistol in his holster when from the wild melee emerged Moore. He had a deep cut above his left eye, and blood poured down his sweat-covered face. When he saw Taylor standing there, going for his pistol, Moore, with a snarl on his lips, brought up the pick handle and charged at his former commanding officer.

  Taylor’s death was as brutal as the life he had chosen. Before Taylor could pull back the slide on his pistol, Moore slammed his pick handle down on top of Taylor’s skull, cracking it open. As his knees buckled, Taylor looked up into the eyes of the man who was about to kill him. With hatred and anger burning through his body, Moore brought the pick handle around one more time, and then with all of his pent-up rage, he bashed Taylor in the side of his head, killing him.

  With all of their officers dead, the rogue soldiers lost heart. The mob turned and fled. Hurriedly dropping their weapons and their equipment, they stampeded over one another, trying desperately to escape the avenging storm of loyal soldiers.

  When he saw the panicked mob surge toward him, Seras’ helicopter pilot jumped out of the cockpit, drew his pistol and took aim at a loyal soldier. A second later, he fired, killing the soldier with a shot to the chest. He spotted a young man encouraging the soldiers to continue the fight. He was about to fire when his head snapped back, hit by a shot from Cardinal’s sniper rifle. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground; seconds later, his corpse was trampled by the men fleeing for their lives.

  A loud cheer of joy erupted from the civilians who had been cowering on the ground during the fight. Some of the young men who still had the strength ran over to join the soldiers and see off their hated oppressors. Any soldier who tripped and fell was instantly attacked. The open field was soon covered with the bodies of the dead and dying.

  With a grin on his face, Jackson stood up and then slung his AK over his shoulder. Walking over to Moore, he stuck out his hand.

  “Nice bit of soldiering, sir,” said Jackson.

  “Thank you, Mister Jackson,” replied Moore, energetically pumping Jackson’s hand.

  “My friends call me Nate. Now, I believe you have a lot of civilians who need protection and perhaps medical care.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I said, call me Nate.”

  “Yes, Nate,” said Moore awkwardly.

  “The camp is yours. All I ask for is one of the army trucks to move the Americans back to Weasua.”

  “Yes, of course. You may have one of the trucks with my compliments.”

  Leaving Moore to take care of his countrymen, Jackson strolled over to Sam.

  “Thank God we were facing a bunch of wannabes. There’s no way in hell we could have pulled that off against hardened regulars,” said Jackson to Sam.

  “Come on, Nate, let’s rejoin everyone else, and see how Ryan is doing,” replied Sam.

  At their jeep, the freed hostages were excitedly greeting one another. Emily and Cristoval were crying in each other’s arms as were Terry Trang and his girlfriend. The mood was somewhat soured by the fact that two of their friends did not make it, murdered while trying to escape at the last dig site.

  “Thank you for everything,” said one of the hostages, a blonde-haired woman in her early twenties.

  “We’re not of the woods yet. You may be free, but we’re miles from any real help. Right now, one of our party is acting as bait to draw the bad guys while we get away.”

  “I’m sorry,” said the woman.

  “It’s all right. It’s our job,” said Jackson soberly. “I only wish I knew how to fly a chopper.”

  “I can fly a helicopter. I have my pilot’s license,” said the young Asian woman.

  “I could kiss you, Miss—?”

  “Heather Giap,” said the woman, holding out her hand.

  “Well, Heather, if you didn’t already have a boyfriend and me a wife, I’d ask you to marry me.”

  Heather giggled for the first time in days.

  Jackson turned to face Sam and Cardinal. “Call Ryan and let him know what went down here. He’s not to trust those double-crossing sons of bitches. Also, let him know I’m on the way to help.”

  “What about us?” asked Cardinal.

  “You have to look after our people. There’s safety in numbers; keep close to Moore and his soldiers until Ryan and I return. Also, one last thing: Call General O’Reilly and fill him in on everything that’s happened, and ask him if his old pals can spare some help.”

  Five minutes later, strapped into their seats in the Augusta 109, Heather Giap busied herself going through her pre-flight checks.

  “Now, you’re sure you can fly this thing?” asked Jackson.

  “I’m not actually rated on this model, but I have flown ones similar to it back home in Texas,” replied Heather.

  “So we’re good to go, then?”

  “Sure, until I fly into the side of a hill or crash this thing into the ground,” said Heather with a deadpan look on her face.

  “Wonderful,” moaned Jackson. “Of all the people who can fly these things, I had to get a comedian.”

  36

  Lucifer’s Treasure

  Lofa River, Liberia

  Mitchell ended the call from Cardinal. He wasn’t surprised that Seras had lied to him. People like her only cared about what they could get for themselves; those who stood in their way were always stepped on. Her treachery was going to make her fate all that more enjoyable.

  After shaking hands with Yuri, Mitchell walked to the tunnel entrance, while Yuri vanished under the cover of the jungle. He checked to see that there was a round in the chamber of his AK and took a seat on the ground. He went over his plan in his mind, making sure that he hadn’t left any eventuality out.

  He was about to congratulate himself on his foolproof plan when a camouflaged Rover came speeding off the dusty road and sped at Yuri’s stationary Mi-8. He cursed under his breath; the one thing he hadn’t counted on was Chang’s people sho
wing up—let alone arriving first. Right behind the lead Rover emerged two more SUVs. Turning off the road, the vehicles raced cross-country straight at Mitchell.

  Mitchell realized that for his scheme to work, he needed to lure in his opponents; whether it be Chang’s or Gray’s thugs, the plan would not change. His nerves went taut. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Mitchell stood up. He calmly rested his AK in his arms and waited.

  The instant he spotted Mitchell, a grin crept across Chang’s face. He turned to his driver and ordered his Rover to stop directly in front of the tunnel entrance. Unable to wait, he jumped from his jeep before it came to a complete halt. Chang strode toward Mitchell while his people fanned out and took up positions covering Mitchell.

  “You are to be congratulated, sir,” said Chang. “You are far more resourceful than I had ever imagined.”

  “I had some help,” replied Mitchell.

  “Oh, and what was that?”

  “Some of my colleagues back in the States found a journal which gave me directions to the treasure.”

  “That would have been helpful from day one. Nevertheless, the treasure now is mine for the taking.”

  Mitchell smiled. “I think Caroline Seras may have a different opinion. I made a deal with her: the treasure for the lives of the hostages.”

  Chang gave an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. “Your deals do not interest me in the slightest. My people will deal with her when she arrives.”

  “Whatever happened to honor among thieves?” asked Mitchell.

  “We have talked enough. Hand me your AK, Mister Mitchell,” said Chang, his voice cold and threatening.

  Mitchell slowly handed his rifle to the nearest mercenary and then stood there, with his arms hanging loosely by his side.

  At the MI-8, six of Chang’s new Sierra Leonean thugs, supervised by an experienced mercenary from the Congo, moved cautiously to the stationary helicopter. The new men had seen them during the war, but none of them had ever been inside one. Many of the men were still very superstitious. To them, the helicopter was like a mysterious metal beast sitting there with its glass eyes staring at them.