Burning Angels

3

Present day

The pilot of the C-130 Hercules cargo aircraft turned to eye Will Jaeger. ‘Kinda overkill, buddy, hiring a whole C-130 for just you guys, eh?’ He had a strong southern drawl, most likely Texas. ‘There’s just three of you, right?’

Through the doorway into the hold Jaeger eyed his two fellow warriors, seated on the fold-down canvas seats. ‘Yeah. Just the three.’

‘Bit over the top, wouldn’t you say?’

Jaeger had boarded the aircraft as if ready to do a high-altitude parachute jump – decked out in full-face helmet, oxygen mask and bulky jumpsuit. The pilot had not the slightest hope of recognising him.

Not yet, anyway.

Jaeger shrugged. ‘Yeah, well we were expecting more. You know how it is: some couldn’t make it.’ A pause. ‘They got trapped in the Amazon.’

He let the last words hang in the air for a good few seconds.

‘The Amazon?’ the pilot queried. ‘The jungle, right? What was it? Jump that went wrong?’

‘Worse than that.’ Jaeger loosened the straps that held his jump helmet tight, as if he needed to get some air. ‘They didn’t make it… because they died.’

The pilot did a double take. ‘They died? Died like how? Some kinda skydiving accident?’

Jaeger spoke slowly now, emphasising every word. ‘No. Not an accident. Not from where I was standing. More like very planned, very deliberate murder.’

‘Murder? Shoot.’ The pilot reached forward and eased off on the aircraft’s throttles. ‘We’re nearing our cruise altitude… One-twenty minutes to the jump.’ A pause. ‘Murder? So who was murdered? And – heck – why?’

In answer, Jaeger removed his helmet completely. He still had his silk balaclava tight around his face, for warmth. He always wore one when leaping from thirty thousand feet. It could be colder than Everest at that kind of altitude.

The pilot still wouldn’t be able to recognise him, but he would be able to see the look in Jaeger’s eyes. And right now, it was one that could kill.

‘I figure it was murder,’ Jaeger repeated. ‘Cold-blooded murder. Funny thing is – it all happened after a jump from a C-130.’ He glanced around the cockpit. ‘In fact, an aircraft pretty similar to this one…’

The pilot shook his head, nervousness creeping in. ‘Buddy, you lost me… But hey, your voice sounds kinda familiar. That’s the thing with you Brits – you all sound the goddam same, if you don’t mind me sayin’.’

‘I don’t mind you saying.’ Jaeger smiled. His eyes didn’t. The look in them could have frozen blood. ‘So, I figure you must’ve served with the SOAR. That’s before you went private.’

‘The SOAR?’ The pilot sounded surprised. ‘Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did. But how… Do I know you from somewhere?’

Jaeger’s eyes hardened. ‘Once a Night Stalker, always a Night Stalker – isn’t that what they say?’

‘Yeah, that’s what they say.’ The pilot sounded spooked now. ‘But like I said, buddy, do I know you from somewhere?’

‘Matter of fact, you do. Though I figure you’re gonna wish you’d never met me. ’Cause right now, buddy, I’m your worst nightmare. Once upon a time, you flew me and my team into the Amazon, and unfortunately no one got to live happily ever after…’

Three months earlier, Jaeger had led a ten-person team on an expedition into the Amazon, searching for a lost Second World War aircraft. They’d hired the same private air charter firm as now. En route the pilot had mentioned how he had served with the American military’s Special Operations Aviation Regiment, also known as the Night Stalkers.

The SOAR was a unit that Jaeger knew well. Several times when he’d been serving in special forces, it was SOAR pilots who’d pulled him and his men out of the crap. The SOAR’s motto was ‘Death waits in the dark’, but Jaeger had never once imagined that he and his team would end up being the target of it.

Jaeger reached up and ripped off his balaclava. ‘Death waits in the dark… It sure did, especially when you helped guide in the hit. Very nearly got the whole lot of us killed.’

For an instant the pilot stared, eyes wide with disbelief. Then he turned to the figure seated beside him.

‘Your aircraft, Dan,’ he announced quietly, relinquishing the controls to his co-pilot. ‘I need to have words with our… English friend here. And Dan, radio Dallas/Fort Worth. Abort the flight. We need them to route us—’

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Jaeger cut in. ‘Not if I were you.’

The move had been so swift that the pilot had barely noticed, let alone had any chance to resist. Jaeger had whipped out a compact SIG Sauer P228 pistol from where it was concealed within his jumpsuit. It was the weapon of choice for elite operators, and he had the blunt-ended barrel pressed hard against the back of the pilot’s head.

The colour had drained completely from the man’s face. ‘What… what the hell? You hijacking my aircraft?’

Jaeger smiled. ‘You better believe it.’ He addressed his next words to the co-pilot. ‘You a former Night Stalker too? Or just another traitorous scumbag like your buddy here?’

‘What do I tell him, Jim?’ the co-pilot muttered. ‘How do I answer this son of a—’

‘I’ll tell you how you answer,’ Jaeger cut in, releasing the pilot’s seat from its locked position, and swinging it violently around until the guy was facing him. He levelled the 9mm at the pilot’s forehead. ‘Swiftly, and truthfully, without deviation, or the first bullet blows his brains out.’

The pilot’s eyes bulged. ‘Freakin’ tell him, Dan. This guy’s crazy enough to do it.’

‘Yeah, we were both SOAR,’ the co-pilot rasped. ‘Same unit.’

‘Right, so why don’t you show me what the SOAR can do. I knew you as the best. We all did in British special forces. Prove it. Set a course for Cuba. When we’re across the US coastline and out of American airspace, drop down to wave-top level. I don’t want anyone to know we’re on our way.’

The co-pilot glanced at the pilot, who nodded. ‘Just do it.’

‘Setting a course for Cuba,’ he confirmed, through gritted teeth. ‘You got a specific destination in mind? ’Cause there’s several thousand miles of Cuban coastline to choose from, if you know what I mean.’

‘You’re going to release us over a small island via parachute drop. You’ll get the exact coordinates as we close in. I need us over that island immediately after sundown – so under cover of darkness. Set your airspeed to make that happen.’

‘You don’t want much,’ the co-pilot growled.

‘Keep us on course due south-east and steady. Meantime, I’ve got a few questions to ask your buddy here.’

Jaeger folded down the navigator’s seat, positioned to the rear of the cockpit, and settled himself into it, lowering the SIG’s barrel until it menaced the pilot’s manhood.

‘So. Questions,’ he mused. ‘Lots of questions.’

The pilot shrugged. ‘Okay. Whatever. Shoot.’

Jaeger eyed the pistol for a brief moment, then smiled, evilly. ‘You really want me to?’

The pilot scowled. ‘Figure of speech.’

‘Question one. Why did you send my team to their deaths in the Amazon?’

‘Hey, I didn’t know. No one said anything about any killin’.’

Jaeger’s grip on the pistol tightened. ‘Answer the question.’

‘Money,’ the pilot muttered. ‘Ain’t it always thus. But hell, I didn’t know they were gonna try and kill you all.’

Jaeger ignored the man’s protestations. ‘How much?’

‘Enough.’

‘How much?’

‘One hundred and forty thousand dollars.’

‘Okay, let’s do the maths. We lost seven. Twenty thousand dollars a life. I’d say you sold us cheap.’

The pilot threw up his hands. ‘Hey, I had no freakin’ idea! They tried to wipe you out? The hell was I supposed to know!’

‘Who paid you?’

The pilot hesitated. ‘Some Brazilian guy. Local. Met him in a bar.’

Jaeger snorted. He didn’t believe a word, but he had to keep pressing. He needed details. Some actionable intelligence. Something to help him hunt down his real enemies. ‘You got a name?’

‘Yeah. Andrei.’

‘Andrei. A Brazilian named Andrei you met in a bar?’

‘Yeah, well maybe he didn’t sound too Brazilian. More like Russian.’

‘Good. It’s healthy to remember. Especially when you’ve got a 9mm pointed at your balls.’

‘I ain’t forgettin’.’

‘So, this Andrei the Russian you met in a bar – got any sense who he might have worked for?’

‘Only thing I knew was some guy named Vladimir was the boss.’ He paused. ‘Whoever killed your people, he’s the guy giving the orders.’

Vladimir. Jaeger had heard his name before. He’d figured he was the gang leader, though there were certain to be other, more powerful people above him.

‘You ever met this Vladimir? Got a look at him?’

The pilot shook his head. ‘No.’

‘But you took the money anyway.’

‘Yeah. I took the money.’

‘Twenty thousand dollars for each of my guys. What did you do – throw a pool party? Take the kids to Disney?’

The pilot didn’t answer. His jaw jutted defiantly. Jaeger was tempted to smash the butt of the pistol into the guy’s head, but he needed him conscious and compos mentis.

He needed him to fly this aircraft as never before, and get them over their fast-approaching target.