Blood Lines

61

›› Eleven Klicks Outside Qui Nhon, Binh Dinh Province

›› Socialist Republic of Vietnam

›› 1917 Hours (Local Time Zone)

Shel abandoned his spot and cursed the luck that had put the grenade in his way. Just for a moment there, he’d had Victor Gant perfectly framed in his rifle’s sights. If the grenade hadn’t intercepted the bullet’s path, he was certain he would have shot the man.

The explosion of the grenade had temporarily robbed Shel of his night vision. He blinked against the exploding black spots that Swiss cheesed his sight.

Bullets hammered the trees and brush. The drone of the rain made it hard to hear them slapping branches and leaves, but experience made it easier for him to pick out the deadly noises.

Despite the steady rain, flames stubbornly clung to the trees and the ground near Remy’s position. The grenade had come awfully close to scoring a direct hit. Remy was injured, but Shel didn’t know how bad it was. The SEAL was still mobile and still death on wheels because he’d accounted for two more men downed. Larkin and the support techs using satellite imagery had confirmed that.

“Shel,” Will called over the earpiece.

“Here,” Shel responded.

“Pull back.”

“On my way.” Shel started forward. Max fell into position beside him.

Will was leading the others to high ground in a desperate attempt to get out of the dangerous trap that had whirled up in the low area as Gant and his men closed in on them. According to Larkin’s observation, the path of least resistance lay in the direction Will and the others were headed.

“Skyview,” Shel said.

“Here,” the calm voice replied.

“Did you mark the position that grenade launcher came from?”

“Affirmative.”

“Did you find the guy who used it?”

“Yes.”

Shel grinned a little at that as bullets dug divots out of the muddy ground around him. “Good. Mark that one as Victor Gant.”

“Confirm visual?”

“Roger visual,” Shel replied. He ducked beneath a sudden spray of bullets that knocked leaves from the tree branches overhead. A branch fell directly in front of him. “I laid both eyes on him.”

“Skyview has located and designated the target.”

“Good. Keep him tagged. Then see if you can’t figure a way to get me back there to him.” Shel didn’t intend to quit the battlefield if at all possible without at least taking a run at securing Victor Gant.

›› 1920 Hours (Local Time Zone)

Maggie Foley moved through the darkness with Berettas in both fists. Despite her lack of military service, she was a trained combat marksman with a pistol. She had spent hours on the ranges, working with Shel and other military trainers who specialized in handgun maneuvers.

She stayed low as she took the point. Will and Estrella covered Nita as they came up the hill.

“Maggie,” the calm voice of Skyview said over her earpiece, “two targets are to your left.”

Without breaking stride, Maggie used her peripheral vision to search for the two gunners the satellite team had spotted in the brush. She trusted the tech support staff to keep all the players separated so she would neither receive nor give “friendly” fire that wasn’t.

One of the men shifted a little to bring his assault rifle up. Maggie aimed at him off the point, not truly sighting at all, and hit him with at least two of the three bullets she fired. The second man got off two rounds of his own. One of them slammed into Maggie’s vest and knocked the wind out of her, but the other went wide.

Staggered, Maggie regrouped and fired again, aiming for the man’s center mass. He went down as well. She trotted over to the two men and checked them, noting that neither of them would be getting up again.

She felt bad about that. Killing for her was always hard, but it was often necessary in her chosen field. She turned back to face the route she’d been given to follow.

“Clear,” Maggie said. The pressure gripping her chest from the blunt force trauma finally eased and she was able to draw a full breath.

“Skyview acknowledges the clear,” the coordinator said. “You are clean and green at the moment.”

Maggie kept going, wondering where Captain Phan and his men were.

›› 1923 Hours (Local Time Zone)

Remy lay in the grass behind a small outcrop of rock and ignored the pain in his right side. He didn’t think he’d taken a bullet, but he had been hit by some shrapnel, and he knew he was leaking blood. The flow wasn’t enough to be dangerous or debilitating. He’d been there before.

“Skyview, find me targets,” Remy said calmly as he lined himself up behind the M24 sniper rifle he was using as his lead weapon.

“Targets coming,” the support guy said. “Confirm three. East of your position. One hundred twenty yards out and closing in staggered jumps.”

Remy kept both eyes open as he swung the rifle toward that section of the target area. He didn’t focus on anything in particular. Instead he tried to look through his targets, allowing his peripheral vision to track the movements his normal eyesight couldn’t see in the darkness.

The men were fleeting shadows. In the night, he couldn’t tell if they were American or Vietnamese. He supposed it didn’t matter. Either way, they worked for Victor Gant.

He passed up the lead runner as they came in a flying wedge-a point and two wings. If the two men in front saw the lead man go down, they’d go to cover. So he aimed at the man farthest back first, knowing that he could at least have the second shot in the air before the two men heard the sharp crack of the sniper weapon.

He squeezed the trigger, rode out the recoil, and locked on the second man back. By the time he squeezed the trigger, the sound was just reaching the two men. The lead man went down, but the other man behind him spun and sprawled before he could go to ground or find shelter.

The lead gunner took cover behind a tree, but he didn’t like where he was and tried to get up and run. Remy squeezed the trigger again. The man crumpled and remained still.

Remy fed more rounds into the sniper rifle and growled, “Skyview, find me targets.”

›› 1925 Hours (Local Time Zone)

“Will,” Larkin said.

“Yes.” Will walked slack behind Estrella and Nita. He kept his eyes open and moving. He carried the M4 in his hands like he’d been carrying it all his life. Hours on the practice fields at NCIS had helped him feel like the assault rifle was a part of him.

“I’m patching you through to Captain Phan,” Larkin said.

He’s going to be surprised, Will thought.

“The two of you need to work out logistical support before you run into each other in the dark,” Larkin went on.

“Agreed,” Will replied. Escaping hostile fire only to be brought down by support troops wasn’t a pleasant possibility.

“I’m bringing him on now,” Larkin said. “Captain Phan, this is Director Michael Larkin of the NCIS.”

“I hear you,” Phan replied.

“We’ve got communications set up and running in the area. We wanted to coordinate my team’s exfiltration from the battleground with you.”

“Of course.”

Will admired the Vietnamese military man. Phan could change and adapt with the best of them. His ability to do so while on the fly was impressive.

“Will,” Larkin called, “are you still there?”

“I am,” Will said, then addressed Phan. “Captain, good to have you with us.”

“I see our plan worked,” Phan said. He sounded a little out of breath, and Will could imagine the man hurrying into the area on foot.

“It did. We also found our missing soldier.”

“Then you’ve been doubly fortunate tonight.”

Will drew a flare from his vest and held it in his hand. “I want to get my people out of here. We’re coming toward you and I don’t want to get accidentally shot.”

“I understand.”

“I’m carrying a flare,” Will said. “I’m going to set it off in a moment. When I do, mark this position. We’re coming straight at you.”

“Skyview confirms there are no hostile encounters between the NCIS team and the local soldiers,” the support guy said.

“Roger,” Will said. “When you’re ready, Captain.”

“Now,” Phan said.

Fisting the flare, Will banged the end against the nearest tree. The flare exploded into ruby light that spun shadows over Will. He threw the flare to the right. Bullets chased it across the ground as Victor Gant’s gunners cut loose.

Will hunkered down behind rocks with Estrella and Nita, who looked pale.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Nita said tightly. She had her arms wrapped around herself. She hadn’t often been in the field and hardly ever under these conditions. “I’ll be fine. There’s just a lot-a lot of noise.”

“You’ll be out of this in another few minutes,” Will said.

“Commander Coburn,” Captain Phan called.

“Yes.”

“We see you.”

“We’re actually to the right of the flare. Your right. Behind a stand of rocks.”

“Yes. We have you. We’ll be there shortly.”

“Captain Phan,” Larkin said.

“Yes.”

“Did you call in air support?”

“No.”

“Then we’ve got trouble. Two helicopters just lifted from the brush only a few klicks from you. They’re speeding in your direction and will be there within minutes.”

That, Will knew, wasn’t good news.

›› 1929 Hours (Local Time Zone)

Savage glee hammered through Victor Gant as the two pilots of the helicopter gunships he’d had lying in wait contacted him.

“Bring ’em on,” Victor crowed. He gazed up at the sky and saw the helicopters shifting back and forth as they sped toward the rendezvous point.

Both helicopters were outfitted with 20 mm rocket pods and. 50-cal machine guns manned by expert door gunners. It was more firepower than the NCIS agents and their Vietnamese army unit could deal with. Their trap had just been sprung and turned into a trap of its own.

Victor smiled and watched the helos zip by overhead as he tried to spot the NCIS agents in the darkness. The helo pilots would have an easier job at it because they were FLIR-equipped. The forward-looking infrared devices would pick up body heat in the darkness.

“Hey, Fat Mike,” Victor growled as he watched the choppers sail across the sky just above the treetops, “seems like old times, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Fat Mike replied.

The dirge of the helicopters’ rotors beating the air grew louder.