Chameleon (Corrosive Knights Book 3)

by E. R. Torre

  But why?

  The frown on Samantha’s forehead deepened. She pulled the device out of her pocket and took a step toward General Spradlin. She had to tell someone. And if she couldn’t trust a General, who could she? She opened her mouth and was about to speak.

  “We got some good news and some bad news,” Robinson said. He pulled away from the tail section and approached Spradlin.

  As he did, Samantha put the remote control back in her pocket.

  Maybe later.

  “Give me the good news first,” Spradlin said.

  “The damage to the tail section wasn’t too bad,” Robinson said. “There are some scorched wires and frayed contacts. With the right equipment, it wouldn't take more than a couple of hours to fix all that up. That is, if the chopper hadn’t clipped that palm tree and gotten twisted around.”

  “Are you criticizing my landing?” Samantha said.

  “No offense, Captain. It could have been better.”

  “We’re alive. It could have been a hell of a lot worse.”

  “What's the bad news?” General Spradlin intruded.

  “That damage wasn't caused by lightning,” Robinson said. He pointed to the hole. “Someone fired upon us.”

  Samantha shook her head.

  “We didn’t get any missile lock warning.”

  “It wasn’t a missile that hit us,” Robinson continued. “I’m thinking we were hit with a high caliber projectile.”

  Samantha closed her mouth. She held the remote control device tight. Spradlin took the flashlight from Robinson and shined it on the hole.

  “We were a slow moving, very big target.”

  “Yes sir,” Robinson said. “So either we got real lucky and the people shooting at us thought they did more damage to the chopper than there actually was...”

  “Or?” Spradlin said.

  “Or they didn't want us dead.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “Let's assume that Captain Frank Masters was right and an imposter was sending radio messages from Bad Penny,” Robinson said. “This impostor tells our pilots everything is fine and they continue their standard, predetermined route to the Bad Penny landing pad. Even if the message and the messenger sounded odd, there’s little reason to do anything but follow landing protocol. What else could they do? There’s enough fuel in the chopper to get to the base’s landing pad but not enough to to turn around and return to Tortuga. The impostors jam our communications at the last possible moment, just as we’re on final approach. By this time, we’re close enough to them so they can take their shot.”

  “Go on,” General Spradlin said.

  “So here we are, suspicious but not suspicious enough, coming in from the northwest and following a standard flight plan. Our hidden enemies are set up and ready to take their shot. They do so.”

  “And we go down,” General Spradlin said.

  “Bad Penny is covered almost from tip to toe on the north end with dense forest,” Alan Robinson continued. “How convenient this clearing just happens to be close enough to use for an emergency landing.”

  Samantha Aron felt chills run down her spine.

  Frank spotted the clearing. I couldn’t even see it until we were on top of it…

  “Maybe they figured we'd be injured enough so we had to land here,” Robinson continued. “If that's the case, I'd lay odds our friends are approaching, maybe even surrounding us. All while we’re standing around, talking.”

  “You got quite an imagination, soldier,” Spradlin said.

  “Let’s hope it’s not too fanciful, sir.”

  Spradlin faced Samantha.

  “Get me that stretcher,” he said.

  The trio entered the helicopter and walked to her rear compartment. Bolted to the wall and behind the last passenger seats was a stretcher. Samantha removed the bolts holding the stretcher and released it. She then returned to Spradlin and Robinson.

  “How about weapons,” Spradlin inquired. “Do we have any on board?”

  Samantha laid the stretcher down.

  “We’re equipped with four M-16's and three .45's,” she said. “They’re stashed in the rear vault.”

  “Can you get them?”

  “Gladly, sir,” Samantha said. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small ring of keys. “We've only got a couple of spare clips.”

  “Let’s hope they’re enough.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  When Spradlin, Robinson, and Samantha returned to the passengers, they were met with startled glances. The passengers immediately noticed the weapons they carried and wondered why they were necessary.

  General Spradlin stepped into the center of the group.

  “I’ll make this short and sweet,” he said. “We examined the helicopter’s damage. We have reason to suspect it was not caused by a natural event.”

  “What caused it?” Howard Bartlett asked.

  “Gun fire,” Alan Robinson said.

  The passengers grew very quiet.

  “We have reason to believe we were brought down by persons unknown and for reasons unknown,” Spradlin continued. “There’s also the possibility we were crippled just so we would land in that clearing. If so, we’re not safe staying here. We need to get moving. Right now.”

  Spradlin pulled the two M-16 rifles he was carrying off his shoulder and handed them to Bartlett and Thompson.

  “Each of you take one,” Spradlin said. He turned to Robinson, who was also carrying two M-16s. Robinson handed one of them to Spradlin. “Robinson and I will carry the remaining rifles. Captain Aron?”

  Samantha reached into her jacket and pulled out two of the three .45s she was carrying. She handed them to Becky and Jennie.

  “That’s all we’ve got,” she said.

  Spradlin faced Doctor Evans and Alicia Cunningham.

  “That leaves you two,” he said. “Private Cunningham and Doctor Evans, let’s get Captain Masters strapped down on the stretcher. We’re not far from the base, but given the darkness and the jungle terrain, this trip will not be a cakewalk. I anticipate it will take us just under two hours to make it to Bad Penny. To keep everyone fresh, we’ll carry Captain Masters in one hour shifts. You two will carry him first. When your shift is done, you will be given weapon duty while someone else carries him.”

  “Yes sir,” they replied in unison.

  “Doctor, please keep your eye on him,” Spradlin said. “It’s up to you to make sure he remains well.”

  “I’d love to, General. But I'm not a medic.”

  “Look at this as a chance to broaden your horizons,” Spradlin said. He pursed his lips and again addressed the entire group. “This situation is very fluid, ladies and gentlemen. Perhaps in examining the helicopter we’ve misinterpreted something and we’re suffering from an overabundance of imagination. Regardless, we need to be on our toes. You are soldiers of the U.S. armed forces and as such, you’re trained for this sort of situation. Keep your eyes and ears open. Be on the alert for anything, but for God’s sake, do not shoot at shadows. I’m of the opinion that the safest places on Earth one could be in are United States military bases. As luck would have it, we’ve got one not all that far away. Let's move out.”

  As they penetrated deeper and deeper into the jungle, the wind and rain eased.

  The cold front passed, leaving behind a chilly air. By the time the group reached a small inlet ringed with knotty mangroves, the rain had completely died out. With the clouds gone, a quarter Moon shone down on the jungle floor. Though it was still dim, the group no longer needed to rely entirely on their flashlights to see their way.

  No one spoke. Alan Robinson held point, while Howard Bartlett and Dan Thompson brought up the rear. In the dead center of the group were Doctor Evans, Alicia Cunningham, and the injured Frank Masters. Samantha Aron walked close to General Spradlin, her face filled with doubt and concern. She desperately wanted to tell the General –anyone– about the remote device she found, especially after Spra
dlin’s companion offered his theory for the Little Charlie’s crash.

  As the minutes passed, she became convinced Robinson was purposely lying. He had to know the damage to the helicopter’s tail was not caused by gun fire. Just looking at it, it should have been obvious the damage was caused by an explosive device planted within the tail itself.

  That being the case, the situation she and the others were in was even more dangerous than it at first appeared. Before entering the helicopter back on Tortuga, General Spradlin, Doctor Evans, Alan Robinson, and Frank Masters talked on the tarmac. Were they planning the manner in which to bring the helicopter down? If so, was Frank Masters the invisible hand, via that remote control device, for doing the deed?

  One thing in particular stuck in Samantha’s mind: The Clearing. Alan Robinson was right; the clearing was the only place on the north side of the island where they could have landed. And Frank spotted it. At the time, his discovery of the clearing seemed a Godsend. Now, it appeared pre-planned.

  Sinister.

  Samantha took a deep breath.

  She couldn’t keep this information to herself, but if Robinson was General Spradlin’s right hand man, he too might have known about this from the beginning. If that was the case, then the General was in on this as well. If he was, who could she trust? She looked back at the other passengers, then forward again. Other than Frank, Samantha didn’t know anyone in this group well enough to trust them. Could one or more of them be in on this? Even worse, could she be the only one out of the loop?

  And then the biggest question: Why go to all this trouble and risk so many lives along with expensive military property to land just outside Bad Penny’s base? What purpose could there be for that?

  What exactly is going on here?

  The weight of the .45 in her hand was a comfort, but she was out gunned and, for all she knew, there might be others just beyond the nearest palms watching and waiting for their chance to move in. To move in and…

  “It’s been close to an hour,” General Spradlin said. He was looking at Alicia Cunningham. The newbie looked exhausted. “Let’s take a break.”

  Alicia Cunningham and Doctor Evans laid the stretcher on the ground. General Spradlin walked to their side.

  “How are you two holding up?”

  “Fine sir,” Alicia said. Despite her words, she was out of breath and tired. It wasn’t easy carrying this weight through the slick jungle ground. “At least the rain is gone.”

  “How about you, Doctor?”

  “I can go on a little more, if needed,” Evans replied.

  Spradlin nodded but said nothing. His attention was on Frank.

  “What about you, Captain Masters?”

  “Hurts when I laugh,” Frank replied and winced. “That’s my life. One big comedy.”

  “Get some rest, Frank. You need it.”

  Samantha listened intently to the exchange between General Spradlin and her co-pilot.

  “They look real cozy,” she whispered. There was a rustling from behind her, and Samantha found Becky Waters standing close by. Her hands were in her pocket and, like the others, she was wet from head to toe. Becky leaned against a tree. Her eyes were on Samantha, daring her to elaborate on her thoughts.

  Samantha’s first instinct was to walk away. There was little reason to talk to the soldier, much less tell her what was on her mind. But she didn’t move. Neither, however, did she say anything. After a while, Becky spoke.

  “You've got a good eye for details,” she said. Her voice was as low as Samantha’s.

  “What do you mean?” Samantha whispered back.

  Becky crouched down before the inlet, as if resting from the walk.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Just making conversation.”

  “If you have something to say...”

  “Easy, Captain,” Becky offered. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

  Samantha stole a quick glance at Becky and noticed that, beneath the outwardly calm features of her face, there was a layer of worry.

  “I’m the one who should apologize,” Samantha whispered after a few seconds. “It isn’t every day you crash land.”

  “I should hope not.”

  There was a brief silence before Samantha spoke.

  “Have you ever had the feeling you were stuck playing…playing a game? A game you could barely make out?”

  Becky didn’t reply. She turned away from the inlet and looked deep into Samantha’s eyes.

  “I’ve noticed things,” Samantha continued.

  “Like?”

  “Like that General Spradlin gave all the big weapons to the men and stuck us with the handguns.”

  “Big guns for big boys,” Becky replied. “Nothing all that sinister about sexism.”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  For the next few moments the two were silent. After a while, this silence became uncomfortable. Becky leaned down close to Samantha.

  “I know what you’re feeling,” she said.

  Samantha felt a sense of relief.

  “If I tell you something, do you promise you won't tell anyone else?”

  “I don't know,” Becky replied. “Depends on what you have to say.”

  Samantha grimaced.

  “Never mind,” she said and stood up. Samantha walked away.

  Becky sighed. She followed Samantha.

  “OK,” Becky said. “I promise I won't tell anyone else. What do you think is going on?”

  Samantha grasped a twig from a tree. She motioned Becky a little farther away from the group.

  “I took some courses in projectiles and explosives at Southern Command,” Samantha said. “Our instructors had us test impact craters and bullet holes and all kinds of fun shit like that.”

  “And?”

  “I’m not saying I’m a genius at this particular science,” Samantha said. “There’s a reason I became a pilot instead. Anyone who’s read a Nancy Drew book can tell you most of what I learned.”

  “Nancy Drew investigated explosive impacts?”

  Despite herself, Samantha let out a chuckle.

  “Maybe in the later books,” Samantha said. “All right, consider this: Someone’s house is burglarized. It doesn’t matter what was robbed, but something was taken, and when the house is examined, the police find that one of the first floor windows is broken. Everyone figures that’s the way the bad guy got into the house. Only when Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys or the fucking Bobbsey Twins investigate, the clever little fucks realize there’s something suspicious about that broken window. You see, the shattered glass from the window was found lying on the outside of the house. But the only way that happens is if someone inside the house smashed the glass out.”

  “I think I read that book,” Becky said.

  “So our junior detectives conclude the theft was, literally, an inside job. Someone who had access to the house was responsible for the theft and, to muddy the waters, smashed that window to make it seem like the bad guy came in that way.”

  “Go on,” Becky said.

  “Now we move up to bullet impacts,” Samantha continued. “Like the shattered glass, damage at the point of a bullet’s impact tends to leave an indentation protruding into the target. If the bullet has enough force to exit the target on the other side, we’d find an outward burst there. On the other hand, if, say, explosives were planted inside an object like, say, the tail of a helicopter and detonated, we would see evidence of an outward burst on either side. No indentations.”

  “Which is what you found.”

  “It’s the interpretation of what we found that bothers me.”

  “Which was?”

  “When we got there, General Spradlin’s man, Alan Robinson—”

  “Captain America,” Becky said.

  “Captain America takes a few seconds to look over the damage and concludes we were hit by something. I head over there, to see what he’s looking at, and tell him we didn’t have any missile lock warning and the
refore couldn’t have been brought down that way. As I’m examining the damage, he tells me we were hit with a high caliber projectile, probably fired from some kind of rifle.”

  “But you see the glass was on the outside of the house.”

  “Exactly. Something inside the helicopter’s tail blew out. It had to be a bomb. A very small one, but big enough.”

  “You didn’t tell General Spradlin?

  “Of course not,” Samantha said. “I think Robinson was saying all that shit about projectiles for my benefit.”

  “General Spradlin knew?”

  “I think so.”

  “That means we can’t trust either of them.”

  “Or Doctor Evans.”

  Becky nodded.

  “It gets worse,” Samantha said. “There was at least one more person in on this.”

  “Who?”

  Samantha removed the remote control from her jacket pocket and showed it to Becky.

  “I found this on the floor of the cockpit, just under my co-pilot’s chair.”

  Becky Waters looked at the object.

  “It’s a remote control? What for—”

  Becky didn’t finish her thought. She drew a sharp breath.

  “I think Frank used this to detonate the charge that brought the helicopter down,” Samantha said. “He was the only one allowed outside the chopper on Tortuga. I think he planted the device when he was refueling the chopper. He detonated it when we were close to the clearing. ”

  “So the entire crash was…was planned?”

  Samantha put the remote control back in her pocket.

  “That’s what I think.”

  Becky let out a low whistle.

  “Am I crazy?”

  For a second, Becky said nothing. Then…

  “I think you’re right.”

  “I may be, but why take such a risk?” Samantha said. “Why make us crash land on the north side of the island? Why not let us land at Bad Penny? There’s no logic to any of this.”