by Dirk Patton
13
“Don’t you think you should have called him?” Rachel asked, raising her voice to be heard over the droning engines of the C-130.
We were currently somewhere north of Papua New Guinea, nothing other than endless stretches of ocean beneath us, and had just completed our second in-air refueling. The KC-135 that was keeping us topped off was flying in formation. Soon, we’d turn south towards Australia, then a hundred miles from the coast, we would take our final drink before the tanker turned around and headed back to Hawaii.
Australia might be an ally, but that hadn’t stopped the US from keeping tabs on their coastal and air defense capabilities. With an incredibly long shoreline and literally hundreds of thousands of square miles of uninhabited territory, it was a daunting task to watch every inch of airspace. In fact, it was more than daunting. It was impossible with the budget that had been given to the country’s defense forces.
Without adequate equipment and personnel, that meant there were huge gaps in coverage where a single aircraft could easily slip in, undetected. And that’s exactly what we were going to do. Approaching over the Arafura Sea, we’d make landfall about three hundred miles east of Darwin in the Northern Territory.
There were only a handful of tiny towns anywhere in the area, so we’d slalom our way between them as we flew south, eventually reaching the territory of South Australia where Lucas owned an expansive spread. I’d had Jessica get current satellite imaging of his place for the pilot to review as we planned.
I’d have much preferred to make the trip in a jet, rather than the lumbering C-130, but the dirt runway that Lucas had carved out of the desert was too short for a large jet, and too rough for anything that had been designed to land on nice, smooth tarmac. So, the Hercules it was.
Getting Rachel and Dog on the flight had been very simple. I’d just asked Captain West. He’d looked at me for a moment, considering why he should allow it, then had nodded with a smile. Surprised at how easy it had been, I’d thanked him and gotten the hell out of his office before he changed his mind.
“Thought about calling him,” I said, leaning my head close to Rachel’s so she could hear me. “Didn’t want to run the risk of being overheard. The Russians get even a whisper that I’m on my way, it will take about half a second for them to realize why.”
“How do you even know he’s there?”
“Saw him on satellite. Him and a bunch of other guys.”
“Any idea who they are?” she asked.
“Betting they’re a bunch of SASR shooters that aren’t too happy about the current state of affairs,” I said, shrugging.
“So, how do you know he’ll help you?”
“He’ll help,” I said with total confidence. “He can be a bit stubborn, so it may take some convincing, but he’ll help.”
Rachel nodded, then wrapped her arm in mine and leaned her head on my shoulder. Dog was asleep at our feet, legs in the air and snoring loud enough to be heard over the big turboprop engines. I would have liked to sleep, but had too much on my mind.
Behind me, Nitro, Goose, Bunny, Monk and an even dozen SEALs were sprawled out. On reputation alone, I was glad Master Chief Baldwin was along, as well as Commander Sherman. What I wasn’t happy about was that they were the ones who were going to penetrate Barinov’s residence and end the miserable fuck’s life. The vision in my left eye hadn’t returned.
The doctor had examined me a few hours before flight time, declaring that there was still no sign of infection and I was healing just fine. But when he aimed a specialized instrument’s bright light into the damaged eye, he’d clucked softly. The pupil wasn’t reacting, which indicated the optic nerve had not recovered.
It had been forty-eight hours since the surgery to remove the bullet fragment, alleviating the pressure on the nerve. And nothing had changed. It seems that if there’s not some degree of improvement within two days, the odds of regaining my vision began going down dramatically. He’d told me he was sorry, but there was nothing else he could do.
So, because I’d given the Admiral my word, I’d reconciled myself to sitting this one out on the sidelines. I was just here to pave the way with Lucas. Sighing, I tilted my head back and fell asleep. It seemed like only minutes had passed before the co-pilot was shaking my shoulder. Dog was giving him the evil eye, but it’s hard to look mean when you’re lying on your back with four feet straight up in the air.
“Thirty minutes out, sir,” he said.
“Okay,” I grumbled, wincing when my back complained about the position I’d been sleeping in. “What’s the local time?”
“We’ll be landing a little before oh-six-hundred. Sun will just be coming up.”
I nodded my thanks and he disappeared back into the cockpit. Pushing Rachel off my shoulder, I got to my feet and stretched, unable to suppress a grin. If Lucas was sleeping in this morning, he was about to get one hell of a rude awakening. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the Master Chief rousting his men. Nitro was snoring as loud as a jet engine, and I decided to let him sleep. He’d wake up when the landing gear touched the ground.
“What’s going on?” Rachel asked.
“Half hour,” I said, walking back to where Sherman and Baldwin were making cups of freeze dried coffee over a chemical heater.
“Got an extra?” I asked.
The Master Chief reached into his pack and pulled out a battered tin cup, pouring half his coffee into it. I thanked him and took a sip of the high-octane brew. It tasted like used motor oil, and smelled worse, but gave me the jolt I needed.
“So, when we land, I’ll go first,” I said. “Once everyone is calmed down from us dropping in unannounced, I’ll call you out.”
“Think there will be a problem with those SASR shooters you saw?” Sherman asked.
We’d already talked about this, but I didn’t blame him for worrying. The last thing he needed was to get into a row with the locals.
“Don’t think so,” I said, giving the same answer as before. “Just let me talk to Lucas and he’ll deal with them.”
I returned to my seat and stood looking at Dog. While I was gone, he’d jumped up and didn’t seem inclined to let me have it back. Rachel, with her arm around his neck, wasn’t helping. Grumbling, I went forward and stuck my head into the cockpit. The world beneath us was still dark, but the sky to the east was lightening quickly.
Chatting with the pilots, I watched as the first rays of the day lit the ground of Australia. Except for the deep red color, at least from this altitude, it didn’t look all that different from Arizona. Lots of sand and rocks and low growing shrubs that managed to survive on only a few inches of rain a year.
“There it is,” the pilot said, pointing at a collection of buildings and a long, straight scar on the earth that was Lucas’s runway. “Better take a seat. This may be kind of bumpy.”
I hurried into the back and dropped into the row behind Rachel and Dog as the big plane banked sharply to the right. An instant later, we were in a steep descent and she caught her breath, looking at me with fear in her eyes.
“Military pilot,” I said, shrugging and tugging my belt a little tighter.
I don’t think it helped as she let out a small squeak of fright when the plane suddenly leveled off and there was a hard impact as the landing gear hit the ground. We were thrown forward as the pilot reversed thrust, slowing the heavy aircraft much faster than one would ever experience on a commercial flight.
The door to the cockpit was braced open, and as we rolled to a stop I could see a dense cloud of red dust swirled up by our landing. It completely enveloped the windscreen for a moment, darkening the interior of the aircraft, then was sucked away by the giant props. We rolled to a complete stop, engines screaming, then the pilot throttled down.
“That got their attention,” he shouted over his shoulder, a shit-eating grin on his face.
I stood and headed for the back, kicking Nitro’s foot to wake him up, then hit the button to lower the r
amp. It descended with a whine of hydraulics and I walked out on it, riding down to the powdery red dirt of the runway.
Stepping clear of the plane, I emerged with the rising sun in my face and looked around. In the distance, a single figure on an ATV was racing towards me, half a dozen dogs following at a full run. I suspected there were a few rifles I couldn’t see, trained on my heart at the moment.
Dog, who had followed me out, stood close to my left side, growling softly. I quietened him with a hand on his back. Nitro ignored my instructions and walked up to stand on the other side, grunting and yawning as he stretched.
In the open, I stood and waited as the rider drew closer. When he was still fifty yards away, he slowed. At twenty-five yards, I recognized my friend and raised a hand in greeting. He pulled to a stop in front of me a few seconds later, eyes wide in surprise.
“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he asked, climbing off the machine and standing in front of me.
The pack of dogs, all some indeterminate mix of breeds, caught up. They began to dash forward, yipping at Dog, who surprisingly was ignoring them. Lucas whistled shrilly and they immediately came to heel near the ATV.
“Figured it was time to stop by and tell your wife some stories about you she probably hasn’t heard,” I said.
“Stupid Yank,” Lucas said. “By now, there’s nothing that could surprise her!”
With a smile, he stepped forward and hugged me, then quickly moved back and lifted his arm in the air to give a signal.
“Bloody hell, Nitro. Did you get uglier?” he asked with a broad smile as the two men briefly embraced.
“Don’t you start! Been putting up with his shit already,” Nitro rumbled, grinning and hooking a thumb at me.
“Who else is with you?” he asked, leaning sideways to peer into the plane’s dark interior.
“Brought a few friends.”
I grinned and whistled. Commander Sherman appeared at the top of the ramp and led his and Nitro’s men into the Australian morning. They formed a loose semi-circle at my back, then Rachel pushed through their ranks and came to stand next to Dog. Lucas smiled at her and extended his hand.
“Katie! I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.”
Rachel stared at him briefly before turning to look at me. Until that moment, I had forgotten that Lucas wasn’t up to date on everything that had transpired. The smile vanished from his face and he turned to me.
“Katie didn’t make it,” I said in a low voice. “This is Rachel. Rachel, Lucas Martin.”
They shook hands quickly and I could see the embarrassment on his face.
“I’m sorry, mate,” he said in a subdued voice.
I shook my head, not wanting to have this discussion right now.
“Ello, ello! I know the bleedin’ wanker that big bald head belongs to! And you brought the bloody Hulk with ya!”
I turned as Malcolm Smyth stepped in from the side, grinning as he slapped me on the back and shook Nitro’s hand. A rifle hung at his side and he was in an unusual camo pattern that blended well with the Australian dirt. I hadn’t seen him since a joint US/Australian mission in Africa a long time ago, and wouldn’t have recognized him if I’d met him on the street. Smiling, I gripped his hand.
“Still bunking with the convict scum, I see!”
“The buggers aren’t so bad, long as you keep a close eye on your valuables!” he said with a laugh before stepping past me and taking Rachel’s hand. “Staff Sergeant Malcom Smyth, my lady. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Rachel smiled, clearly flattered by the man’s obvious interest. Dog skinned his lips back and growled, Smyth quickly stepping back. I looked at him and shook my finger, receiving a sloppy grin and a wink.
A horn beeped and I looked towards the main house. An open truck was coming towards us, the driver’s long blonde hair blowing in the breeze.
“Ziggy?” I asked Lucas, who nodded.
She pulled to a stop next to the ATV and climbed out, a baby on her left hip. She took one look at me and hurried forward, wrapping an arm around my neck and kissing my cheek.
“Nice to finally meet you,” she said, her accent slightly different than Lucas’s. “Only ever seen this one old polaroid of the two of you at Hereford. Here. Might’s well meet the one that got named for ya!”
She shoved the baby at me and without thinking I took him in my arms. It had been a very long time since I’d held one and my discomfort was obvious. Little John looked at me and reached for the patch covering my left eye, gurgling in frustration when he couldn’t get it. I looked around, noticing Dog watching me in utter fascination. Rachel had a different expression on her face, and I decided it was a good idea to move things along before she got any ideas.
“Lucas,” I said, bouncing Little John gently. “We need to talk.”
“Didn’t expect you just happened to be in the neighborhood,” he grinned.
14
Irina regained consciousness slowly, her head not wanting to let loose of the fog that was clinging tightly. A little at a time, awareness grew until her eyes flew open in fear. What the hell had happened? They’d jumped out of the American plane as planned, her and Igor the last two through the door.
Falling through the darkness, she’d only been able to see his shadowy form, but had heard occasional snatches over her radio as the SEALs communicated with each other. The plan was to open their chutes below a thousand feet, and she’d heard the lead man call that he was under canopy. In quick succession, the other Americans opened theirs, then a warning shout came from the lowest man.
He was caught in a strong side wind. Too strong. It had swung his weight too far to the side and collapsed his parachute. He was in freefall, struggling to regain control. The radio was almost instantly flooded with tight voices as the rest of the team fell into the atmospheric river that was raging across Siberia.
Before she realized what was happening, Igor slammed into her, holding her tight as he reached for her arm. Holding it in an iron grip, he fumbled for a second, disabling the AAD (Automatic Activation Device) that was set to release her canopy at one thousand feet.
“Wait until I tell you!” he shouted over the radio, placing her hand on the pouch that held the pilot chute before shoving himself away.
Irina was terrified, but she trusted him. She had gone through parachute training with the Russian army, but it had been a very long time ago. At least she remembered the basics and understood what Igor was doing. He was taking the chance that the air would be calmer below five hundred feet. Calm enough to make it down in one piece.
The SEALs were still on the radio, voices stressed but controlled as they fought to slow their plummet to the frozen earth below. Several of them called that they were cutting away their main chute to deploy the backup, but less than five seconds later those voices dropped off the net and she didn’t hear them again.
“Now, Irina! Now!”
Igor’s baritone voice blasted into her ear as he shouted in their native language. She did as she’d been trained many years ago, pulling out the small drogue and releasing it. An instant later it filled with air and pulled the bridle free. The main chute came out, fluttered briefly then she was jerked hard as it filled with air and slowed her fall.
There was time for her to grasp the toggles and pull to further slow her descent, then a brutal impact and things went dark. Even though she knew she must have hit the ground, she had no memory of it. Igor must have waited until they were as low as two hundred feet, ensuring they wouldn’t suffer the same fate as the American sailors.
But was she injured? With a muted groan, Irina rolled off her side to rest on her back. Staring up at the dark sky, she gently tested her extremities. Despite feeling as if she’d been beaten, everything responded as it should. Slowly, she rose to a sitting position, hissing another groan between her lips, and looked around.
She was sitting on a stretch of barren tundra. The ground beneath her was
frozen solid, every bit as hard as concrete. No more than fifty meters to the side was a thick stand of dense trees. If she’d come down in them… A shudder passed through her as she realized that may be exactly what had happened to Igor and the rest of the team.
Reaching up, she was surprised to find the radio earpiece still in place. Tapping to activate, she broadcast a short message, first in Russian for Igor, then again in English for the SEALs. No one responded. Fear coursing through her, Irina called again, with no better results.
Breathing was becoming difficult, and she realized that an oxygen mask still covered her face and the small cylinder that had provided air for her to breathe during the jump had run out. Ripping the clear plastic free of her head, she gulped a deep breath which was so cold it caused her throat to constrict. She tossed it aside, staring at it for a moment after it came to rest against a tuft of frozen grass.
They were out of air! Irina leapt to her feet, shouting into the radio as she turned a circle to look for her companions. If any of the men were still alive, but unconscious or incapacitated, they would suffocate quickly as their oxygen ran out. Still no response over the radio, and she didn’t see any bulky forms lying on the tundra or parachutes flapping in the stiff night wind.
Shrugging out of the parachute straps, she turned towards the trees and started running. If anyone had come down even remotely close to her, she should have been able to see them in the pale moonlight. That left the forest, or they were so far away she’d never find them in time.
Stumbling as she ran, Irina continued broadcasting, hoping to hear an answering voice. By the time she reached the edge of the trees, she’d given up on locating anyone with the radio. Dashing in, she promptly tripped over an exposed root that was hidden by the darkness on the forest floor. Her battered body cried out in pain, but she forced herself to get up and keep moving.