Death Island

Fourteen

"I figured you might need a little diversionary tactic," Tieggs said as Carter helped him strap into the left-hand seat of the helicopter.

Carter looked at him. Tieggs was a good man. Among the best Carter had run into in his career. "They had rifles. You had a handgun."

"They would never have hit me. The Chinese are all bad shots anyway."

Carter shook his head. "Dumb bastard," he said, laughing. He slammed the door and hurried around to the right side. He climbed up and strapped in as Tieggs painfully flipped the master switch, cracked the throttle, and hit the starter.

The engine turned over, caught, and the rotors began swinging. Slowly at first, but gathering speed. Tieggs took the controls in his left hand, his feet on the pedals, and he glanced at Carter.

"Is your life insurance up-to-date? Here goes nothing," Tieggs said, and they lifted raggedly off the sand, the wind carrying them dangerously close to the treetops along the beach before he got them straightened out with a cry of pain.

Carter gritted his teeth but said nothing. Tieggs was a damned good man.

They swung out over the water, then headed north directly toward Hiva Faui, Tieggs cranking the power full.

"Let's set down at the receiver station," Carter said.

Tieggs glanced at him. Sweat was pouring from his brow. He nodded.

"We'll have the medics give you something to keep you going. I'll need my clothes and some more ammunition."

They hit an air pocket, and Tieggs nearly lost it but recovered nicely. He grinned weakly. "What I think I need is a couple of pints of O positive. Might make a difference."

Carter was about to ask Tieggs if he wanted him to take over the controls when the pilot stiffened and nodded toward the north. Carter looked out the Plexiglas.

There were at least a hundred outriggers of various sizes, each filled with natives, heading north through the large waves.

Tieggs swooped a little lower so that they came right over the center of the flotilla. The men in the boats looked up. Some of them shook their fists, others waved their machetes menacingly skyward. A few even shot arrows up at them.

Then they passed them and were climbing again.

"They're on their way to attack the base!" Tieggs said.

"Let's go back," Carter said, looking out over the water.

"What?"

"Let's go back over them. Low. Right on top of them. Let's see if we can discourage a few of them."

"Have you seen the size of the waves they're paddling through, for Christ's sake?"

"I've seen them," Carter said. He opened the door, and the wind took it back with a bang. The cabin was filled with wind.

Tieggs swooped around and slowed down to cut some of the wind in the cabin. Carter had pulled out the M-16.

"Get right down on top of them," Carter said. "If we can stop the attack here and now, we just might save a lot of lives… our people as well as theirs."

They came down barely above wave height and hovered, the open door on Carter's side facing toward the oncoming canoes.

Carter took careful aim at the lead canoe and squeezed off a short burst that kicked up water over the bow.

Tieggs pulled back up, then came down again just ahead of the canoes, and Carter fired off a few more short bursts.

The natives were all shouting and screaming now. Some of them were shooting arrows, and a couple even threw spears. But they had stopped moving and were simply riding up and down with the waves, some of the paddlers merely holding their bows into the wind.

"They'll wait until we're gone and then continue," Tieggs shouted. "Unless you kill them all."

Carter looked back at him. Tieggs was right. He nodded. "Let's get back to the receiver station. At least we can warn them." He managed to pull the door closed while they were stationary, and then Tieggs brought them around and back up to cruising altitude.

Before they had gone very far, Carter looked back over his shoulder at the outriggers. The natives were once again bent to the task of getting to Hiva Faui.

Even without the constant goading that the Chinese projection system gave to the natives, they would continue to attack the receiver station for a long time to come unless someone was brought in to work with them. It would have to be done very soon. Possibly even using the same visual propaganda techniques that the Chinese used to incite them to their attacks in the first place.

Smoke rose high into the sky in ragged plumes from the far end of Hiva Faui. It was somewhere in or around the town, Carter guessed. It was anyone's guess what was happening there with the Chinese now that the base had been destroyed and the governor apparently fled.

There were armed technicians at the main gate and at various spots around the perimeter fence of the receiver station, and when the helicopter set down on the grass in front of the administration building, the station manager, Justin Owen, came running.

Before the rotors had completely stopped, Carter jumped out and hurried around to Tieggs's side.

Owen had reached them. "What the hell happened over there?" he shouted.

"Get a medic. Bob has been hurt," Carter said, popping the door open.

Other people were coming up to the helicopter, and Owen called for one of them to get the doctor. Then he helped Carter lift Tieggs out of the machine. They laid him on the grass. He was in a lot of pain again, and the wound at his leg was leaking through the bandages.

"Is there anyone else on this base who can fly a helicopter?" Carter asked.

Owen shook his head. "We've called for our support aircraft, but it'll be a day or so before it gets here. They're going crazy in the city. Ever since the big explosion on Natu Faui."

"The natives are on their way here right now," Carter said. "They're a couple of hours out. Maybe a little farther, but they'll be here."

"Damn," Owen swore.

The base doctor came from the administration building at a dead run. Two technicians carrying a stretcher were right behind him.

Carter turned back to Tieggs. "They'll fix you up, Bob. As soon as possible, I want you to refuel the chopper and get it over to the governor's mansion."

"I'll get there," Tieggs said thickly.

"He's going nowhere," the doctor said, taking Tieggs's wrist.

"He'll have to, Doctor," Carter said, getting up. "Unless you can come up with another helicopter pilot."

"And if it kills him?" the doctor snapped, looking up.

Carter shook his head. "No," he said. "Just do the best you can. It's important."

"What's going on?" Owen said. "Can you tell me that much?"

"No time now," Carter said. "But I'll need a jeep." He headed across to the administration building where his bags were.

"It'll be out front in five minutes," Owen called after him.

Upstairs, Carter peeled off his shorts and climbed into a cool shower, letting the water cascade down his body, the spray sharp and wonderful.

With or without Tieggs and the helicopter, Carter figured he had probably lost the governor. The man could be hundreds of miles away by now. Very possibly on his way to China or to any of a thousand places where he would be safe.

It was just possible, however, that there would be some indication left behind at the mansion telling where they had gone. Or there might even be someone left behind — staff or one of his goons — who might be persuaded to tell where the governor had gone.

He stepped out of the shower just as a technician came into his room with a cold beer and a sandwich.

"Mr. Owen thought you might be hungry, sir," the man said.

"Thanks," Carter said, and the technician left.

Carter quickly got dressed, then rapidly took apart his Luger, oiled the parts, and reassembled it. He loaded the clip and put another in his pocket. He wiped Hugo's blade with oil and strapped another gas bomb to his thigh.

He grabbed the sandwich and beer on the way out the door.

Downstairs he stopped at Owen's office. The station manager was busy giving orders for the defense of the station. This would be the first native attack the technicians would be ready for.

"I'm going into town to find the governor," Carter said.

Owen looked up from the phone. "Can you tell me what happened over on Natu Faui? We heard the explosion."

"There was a Communist Chinese base over there. We destroyed it."

Owen looked at Carter, dumbfounded. But then he slowly nodded his head. "And the governor? He's working for the Chinese?"

"Something like that."

Again Owen nodded. "I'll send Bob along with the helicopter if and when the doc clears him."

"Appreciate it," Carter said, and he turned and hurried outside, tossing the half-full beer bottle into a trash can.

A jeep with keys in it was parked just outside. Carter jumped in and headed down to the main gate. Before he came to a complete halt, the technicians opened the gate for him. He waved and sped up, then he was down the hill and around the curve.

He drove as fast as he could, mindful of the fact that the Chinese had booby-trapped this road with downed trees on blind curves more than once in the past forty-eight hours.

But the drive into town was uneventful. The day was warm. The sky was beginning to clear in the east, and the wind had begun to calm down, although there were still large waves roaring onto the beach.

The hotel and Madame Leone's, next door, were on fire, smoke rising high into the afternoon sky. At least a hundred Orientals were gathered in the square in front of the burning buildings. As Carter came around the last curve into town, the crowd was shouting something, but he couldn't quite make it out. They spotted him almost immediately and came running to try to intercept him as he came around the lower road.

Carter sped up, pulled out his Luger, and fired a couple of shots over their heads.

The crowd fell back, and he was around the corner, past the square, and was soon screaming up the hill, expertly negotiating the switchback road. There did not seem to be anyone around, but there was a lot of debris littering the roadway. It was as if they had had a riot up here.

At the top he had to swerve to avoid a large wooden crate, but then he was around the last switchback and heading along the crest of the hill to the governor's compound.

The main gate was closed, but it was unmanned as far as Carter could see. Without reducing speed he ducked down as he hit the gate, slamming one side off its hinges, the jeep slewing first left, then right before he got it under control again.

There was a large Mercedes sedan and two small trucks parked just down from the house, but the helicopters were gone.

Nothing looked disturbed, nor did the house look abandoned. The French flag flew from the pole just down from the driveway at the front of the house.

Carter pulled up and jumped out of the car as a young Oriental woman came out onto the veranda. Carter took the stairs two at a time up to her.

"Governor Rondine is not here this afternoon, sir," she said.

"Where did he go?" Carter asked.

"I do not know, sir," the woman replied.

"I'll just wait in his study, then," Carter said, brushing past her and hurrying across the veranda. At the French doors he hesitated a moment as he watched the young woman's reflection in the glass. She pulled out a long knife from beneath her smock and silently charged.

At the last moment. Carter stepped aside, grabbed her wrist, and quickly twisted her arm. She dropped the knife with a little cry and stepped back as he let go.

He picked up the knife and tossed it over the railing. "Where did the governor and his wife go?" he demanded.

The woman was rubbing her wrist. She shook her head as she backed up. Suddenly she spun around and hurried across the veranda and down the stairs.

Carter pulled out Wilhelmina and entered the house. Two young Chinese boys stood in the entryway to the left. When they saw Carter they bolted up the stairs. A clock chimed somewhere, and he could hear music coming from upstairs.

He went through the living room and the dining room to the back of the house. To the left was the music room, beyond which was a small sitting room and then the kitchen. To the right was the hall that led to the back veranda. A set of double doors were closed.

He tried them. They were locked. He stepped back, brought up his Luger, and fired two shots into the lock, then kicked the doors open.

A Chinese man in a khaki uniform was seated at a radio set. He jumped up and spun around, a submachine gun in his hands.

Carter fired two shots, the first hitting the man in the chest, the second in his throat, blood splattering everywhere as he was thrown backward against the radio, his weapon clattering to the floor.

Carter kicked the gun aside, made sure the man was dead, then looked at the radio. Someone was calling. Deep in the static. It sounded like French, but Carter could not be sure.

A helicopter came in low over the house, then swung around to the east.

Carter went to the window and looked outside. He could hear the machine on the other side of the house. It sounded as if it was coming down for a landing.

He turned around. There were three Oriental men in khaki uniforms just outside the doorway. They each held a submachine gun pointed at Carter.

"You will please to put your weapon on the desk," one of them said, his English very bad.

Carter hesitated.

"Please. We do not want to kill you just yet, Mr. Carter."

Carter walked over to the desk and laid down his Luger, men he stepped away a few paces.

"That is very wise, Mr. Carter. Now, who is coming here in the helicopter? Is it your colleague from the spy satellite base?"

"He's a helicopter pilot, nothing more," Carter said. "Where is Governor Rondine?"

The man grinned. "Your submarine is a very long way from here now, Mr. Carter. You have done much damage to us, and now we will find out all about you and who you work for."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop by twenty degrees. Nevertheless Carter smiled.

"Yes," he said. "One of your submarines has been destroyed, your base ruined, and very soon your second submarine will be rendered useless as well. I don't suppose you'll get a promotion for this."

There was a commotion out in the corridor. It sounded to Carter like someone swearing in French. He glanced at his Luger on the desk, but the man who had been doing the talking raised his weapon a little higher.

"You will die if you try it."

One of the soldiers was shoved aside, and a large, burly man barreled his way into the room. He looked at Carter.

"That's him," he said in French.

"What are you doing here?" the Chinese man asked in French.

"I've got my orders. The governor wants him," the big man said. He turned back to Carter. He carried a large Beretta automatic. "You will come with me voluntarily, or I shall kneecap you, Monsieur Carter. Do you understand?" he asked in English.

Carter nodded. It had been he who had arrived in the helicopter, not Tieggs. Carter shrugged. "I don't have much of a choice."

"No," the Frenchman said. He stepped away from the doorway and motioned Carter outside.

They went back through the dining room and living room, out onto the veranda, and down to the driveway. A large French military helicopter was parked just beyond the flagpole. Two men waited by it.

The three Chinese men had come out of the house, but they remained up on the veranda. Carter looked back at them. There was some kind of a power struggle going on here. But at the moment he could not see how he could turn it to his advantage. The Frenchman he was with was definitely a pro.

They marched across the driveway to the helicopter, and Carter was directed to climb into the rear compartment, where he was manacled to one of the seat supports after he had strapped in.

The Frenchman who had brought him down from the house went back up to the veranda to speak with the Chinese soldiers. The other two Frenchmen climbed into the helicopter, one of them at the controls, and he started the engine.

A minute later the other one came back, climbed in. and without a word they lifted off.

Almost immediately the pilot stiffened. "We have company," he said in French. "Looks like a small helicopter."

They swung around and headed toward town as Tieggs, in the smaller helicopter, swung past them from the left.

Carter's captor turned back to him. "Who is in the machine?"

"It's no one. Just a pilot from the base."

The man turned back. "Shoot him down," he said calmly.

"No!" Carter shouted, sitting forward.

They swung around, the pilot expertly bringing them up behind Tieggs.

"You bastards!" Carter shouted. "He's done nothing to you!"

The Frenchman turned back with his Beretta and jammed the barrel into Carter's face. "I will blow your head off, monsieur, if you are not quiet."

The French pilot was doing something with what looked like a weapons tracking and locking system. Out ahead, Tieggs apparently understood he was in trouble, because he was taking evasive actions.

"Now," the pilot said. He punched a button. A rocket streaked from their underbelly and in less than three seconds closed on Tieggs's machine. There was a brief pause, then the explosion.