Brothers in Arms

CHAPTER THREE

The Lockheed C-130 undertook many varied missions for the United States Air Force, but tonight, it transported Matt Drake, Mai Kitano and a small, four-strong team of Marine Force Recon soldiers over the North Pacific Ocean toward their destination — a small, nameless island off the coast of Korea.

The atmosphere in the four-engine military transport possessed an air of subdued excitement. Drake and Mai spent some time in the communications area, but learned nothing new during the flight. The team back home had begun investigations, but with necessary discretion — a directive from Gates.

And not Drake’s way. Nor was it anyone else’s way, but they were legal now and their benefactor, Gates, was being observed from all angles.

Back in the main seating area, the four marines sat around, idly chatting. These men were at ease, but still nothing escaped them. When Drake and Mai returned their leader, a man called Romero, sat up.

“All well?”

“Could be better.” Drake grumbled.

“Problems back home?”

Drake blinked and stared. At first, he’d assumed the soldier meant back home in York, and was about to tell the grunt to mind his own friggin’ business, but then realized the reference was to the HQ. Christ, he thought, gotta stop mixing business with pleasure.

And then Mai touched his arm, her presence and her contact immediately shattering even that small resolution.

“Yeah,” he said. “Senators get death threats every day. It’s gonna take a miracle to convince him to lay low even for a couple of days.”

“Maybe it’s just that. A threat.” Romero shoved his square-jawed face forward, testing the room.

Mai strode toward him. “You think a Japanese agent who managed to dig himself in so deep with the Koreans would surface for no good reason, Romero?”

“I guess not.” The American backed down. “But we’ll be sure to find out. We’re all on the same team here, miss.”

“Call me Mai.” The wiry-framed operative passed so close she touched the Marine as she continued to the bar. “Drink?”

The marine frowned. Drake looked momentarily hopeful, then forced himself to pretend he was joking. He wouldn’t drink again. Those nights spent in Hawaii in a drunken stupor, hunting down the Blood King’s men, still sat with him as a low point of his life. No way he wanted to go back to that.

He watched Mai pour herself a straight whisky and knock it back. The marines regarded her warily. No doubt they knew something of her past and prowess, but they could never guess even half her story. Drake knew it all. They had been lovers once, inseparable, all their secrets laid bare.

It would only take some chance lighting of the touchpaper to kindle the spark and make it all happen again. But was it too soon? Recent events were still raw. New revelations were cruel and new enough to cause constrictions in his chest.

A shout rang out through the cabin. “Thirty minutes to target.”

Drake collected himself. The plan was to fly over southern Japan and get as close to the unidentified island as they could without arousing any Korean suspicions. Then, the team would deploy amphibious craft and the airplane would head back to Japan. The return journey was, as ever, somewhat ambiguous.

Wouldn’t have it any other way, Romero had said, grinning, when he heard.

Drake had smiled. Romero had passed the first test.

The other three members of Romero’s crew, Smyth, Wardell and Matthews now stood up and began final checks. Drake strapped weapons and gear around his body, hefting the parachute and making sure the Gore-tex jump suit was secure. After a few minutes, everyone turned and checked their partners. Drake knelt on a seat and pressed his face to a window, trying to peer through the midnight murk that blanked out most of the East China Sea.

Heavy, dark swells undulated below him like the monstrous body of some mythic sea serpent.

Romero was at their back. “Don’t worry.” He grinned “We’ve done this before.”

At that moment there was a flash and an ear-splitting roar the like of which even Drake had never heard. The aircraft lurched. Time stood still for a second and then, as they turned, the entire far wall of the plane seemed to disintegrate.

A fireball rolled through the sky outside, keeping pace. Chunks and shards of metal fizzed and zipped through it all. Romero cried, “Someone…someone shot us down!”

Mai grabbed him and pulled him down. “Not yet.”

Drake knew that, with plane crashes, Hollywood took a lot of artistic license. In real life a bullet-hole or a small hole wouldn’t suck you out to your doom, but a hole as big as this? They were going down. Fast. He took hold of a seat, wrapping his arm entirely around the armrest and clasping it tightly with his other. The pilot was shouting, screaming as he struggled to slow the descent. Even his most valiant effort raised the nose only a little. The C-130 hurtled inexorably toward the sea.

“We need to get out of this fucker,” Drake said. “Prime altitude. Give the chutes time to work.”

Mai nodded. They glanced around at the others. It was then they realized both Wardell and Matthews had been caught in the initial explosion. Both men lay prone and torn apart on the cabin floor, and were now being pulled toward the big jagged hole.

Drake felt the tug on his body. The wind whipped and whistled around the cabin. The noise was tremendous, like a freight train roaring in his face. It would be easy to let themselves be dragged out, but their escape had to be controlled like any normal jump. He spotted the other marine, Smyth, clinging to a fixed table in the middle of the cabin, eyes steady and locked on to his bosses, awaiting orders.

Good, Drake thought. These men were among the elite of the US forces. The amphibious craft could be released too. They had three CRRC’s, Combat Rubber Raiding Craft, or Zodiacs to use the more popular term. It would take a huge effort…but sure as hell wasn’t beyond them.

The pilot was the problem. They needed—

— a second explosion shook the beleaguered plane to its metal core. A great shrieking, grinding sound spoke of unbearable stress. It rocked and shuddered through every joint. A fireball hit the cockpit, exploding through into the main cabin and taking out the pilot in the blink of an eye.

“Move!” Drake reacted instantly. As the fire died away, he pushed Romero toward the yawning hole. Mai scrambled over to Smyth, using the chair backs as stepping stones, cat-quick and assured.

The Zodiacs were stacked at the rear of the plane, big black inflatables with 55hp, two-stroke outboard engines. Drake knew from experience that a special fuel bladder and storage bag full of equipment would be housed at the front of the boats. He also knew that chasing after a Zodiac through thousands of feet of turbulent air into a raging sea wasn’t exactly the best way to go, but some evil bastard had taken that decision clean out of his hands.

Drake grabbed something solid and made his way slowly toward the inflatables. It would be easy to just leap out of the plane, but that was a big-ass sea down there, and they would need shelter and even the meager security the Zodiacs offered. His head whipped back as a mighty gust of wind slapped him full in the face. A splinter of metal, flapping frantically in the gale, finally tore off and fizzed through the cabin, embedding itself deep into the far wall. Seat moorings began to groan as the pressure grew. It only took seconds, but Drake fought a lifetime to get within reach of the carefully stacked Zodiacs.

Mai was waiting. “Ready?”

“If I’m ever ready to do this shit, that’s when I’ll quit,” Drake yelled back at her.

Then Mai unsnapped the security cables and the Zodiacs shifted. Mai and Smyth manhandled the first to the gap. Drake and Romero struggled with a second. The downward angle of the plane helped them heave the heavy boats into place. Only minutes had passed since the first explosion. Parts of the fuselage were on fire, streaking flames and fuel into the pitch-black night. Drake wondered what the pilot’s last communication had been. Did anyone know they were about to ditch? He double-checked his parachute.

“Any last words?” Romero was breathing heavily at his side, eyes fully focused on the serrated gap that had been blown in the plane.

“Just one.” Drake heaved his Zodiac off the plane. “Bollocks!” And jumped out into the furious, violent night.

The rampant seas swelled, as if reaching up to claim their latest sacrifice.