Nighthawk

51

Having finished his climb, Kurt moved across the upper part of the landing area of the plateau, darting from one patch of scrub foliage to another in quick, crouching movements.

He was halfway across when the Air-Crane lifted off, rising on a whirlwind of dust, blinding anyone who was foolish enough to open his eyes and look into it.

As it gained altitude, it drew up the same steel cables that had been attached to the Nighthawk in the water. They snaked across the ground, rising slowly, until they were taut with tension and the black spacecraft came up slowly off the ground.

The two linked aircraft rotated until they were pointing to the southeast. Finally, they began to move, traveling so cautiously at first that they barely appeared to be making any progress.

With all eyes on the departing craft and no chance that he would be heard, Kurt rushed in. He charged the nearest of Urco’s men, tackled the man in a flying leap and slammed him to the ground. A short scuffle ended when Kurt landed a knockout punch.

He grabbed his radio. “I’m in the clearing and armed. Open fire.”

Gamay had been waiting for a call, tracking the men who were guarding Paul and Joe. Taught to shoot by her father at a young age, she’d been around guns all her life. And though she preferred to avoid violence, she’d shot at attackers and been shot at more than a few times during her years with NUMA. It was the nature of the job. Still, as she steadied the barrel and aimed at the men in the clearing she realized this was something she had never done before.

The discomfort vanished as one of the men pulled out his pistol and moved in behind Joe.

Gamay exhaled and pulled the trigger.

The rifle cracked. The man with the pistol dropped to his knees and fell over on his side. Before he hit the ground, Gamay adjusted her aim and fired again, this time hitting the guard that was standing over by Paul.

She saw him tumble, pulled the trigger again for good measure and then switched her sights to a third target. By now, the men were racing in all directions. Her fourth shot winged one of them; her fifth may or may not have struck home as another of Urco’s crew dove back into the tall grass.

Down on the rocky beach, Joe heard the rifle shot and thought it sounded like deliverance. He pulled and twisted the new zip tie that had been wrapped around his wrists. It hadn’t been weakened as much as the prior one, but he’d been working on it.

Another shot rang out and then another. The men around them were falling dead or running for safety when Joe finally snapped the restraint.

He immediately grabbed a sharp-edged rock he’d been eyeing and rushed over to Paul.

With a quick pull, Paul was cut free. Joe tossed the rock aside, exchanging it for the pistol in the dead man’s hand.

Joe pointed to the ridge that he assumed Gamay to be firing from. “Get to the bottom of the bluff.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find Urco.”

Paul turned over another of the men Gamay had shot and retrieved a weapon of his own. “Let’s go.”

As Gamay fired from the high ridge, Kurt came in low and fast. He’d taken out two of Urco’s men, commandeered a shotgun and rushed forward with it. He wanted to capture Urco, but his surviving men were making things difficult.

Kurt shot one of them as the man sprayed a clip of bullets up at the hills, hoping to hit the sniper.

Rushing past the dead man, he pumped the shotgun and fired at a man who’d taken cover in some bushes. The blast ripped the bush to shreds and left the man lying on the ground, bleeding.

Kurt rushed over to him and kicked the rifle from his hand. “Urco?”

The man pointed, his finger extending unsteadily toward the path that had been hacked in the grass.

Kurt glanced in that direction and noticed something being thrown toward them from up above. He sprinted and then dove away, launching himself into the grass just as the brick of Semtex detonated.

The explosion rang in Kurt’s ears, momentarily flattened the field of green stalks and rained dirt on him for several long seconds. He was far enough away to avoid serious injury.

The man who’d pointed to Urco was not so lucky.

Kurt was about to move forward when someone tapped him on the leg.

He spun around with his weapon. But instead of enemies, he saw the smiling face of Joe Zavala. Paul Trout was just behind him.

“For a ghost, you’re made of surprisingly solid material,” Joe said.

Kurt grinned. “And easy to sneak up on,” he said. “Glad to see you both. Believe it or not, I think we’re winning, primarily thanks to Gamay’s shooting.”

“She’ll be hard to live with after saving us,” Paul said. “But well worth it.”

“How many of them are down?”

“Four down below,” Joe said.

“And I took out three,” Kurt said.

“That leaves only Urco,” Joe said. “Trust me, I’ve been counting them obsessively.”

Kurt pointed to the high ground. “He’s up there. But I have a feeling he’ll be lobbing bombs at us if we move his way.”

“Maybe Gamay can hit him from her position,” Paul suggested.

Kurt pulled out the radio, gave Gamay a status report and made the request.

“He’s up there, all right,” Gamay insisted. “And he’s alone. But he’s not defenseless.”

“We got a taste of the explosives,” Kurt said. “I’m not interested in a second course. Can you hit him?”

“Maybe,” she replied. “But there’s a problem with that plan.”

“Which is…?”

“He seems to have anticipated this,” she said. “He’s crouched behind the last of the containment units. And he’s got his pistol up against the housing as if it was a living human hostage.”

Just then, Urco’s booming voice called out to them. “This violence has gone on long enough,” he shouted. “Throw down your weapons. Or I’ll destroy us all.”