Trader of secrets

Chapter Fifty-Nine

As they came in low over the trees, wheels and flaps down, the pilot could almost feel branches scraping the belly of the plane. He feathered the engines to try and keep the noise down.

Suddenly a flock of birds flew up in front of him. Several hit the windshield, feathers and blood flying. Fortunately the plane wasn’t going fast enough to break glass. A few of the birds went through the props. The pilot pushed the throttles forward for more power. The four large Allison engines roared as the plane nosed up.

“Shit!” The pilot shook his head. “If they didn’t know we were coming, they know it now.” He eased back on the throttles once more. He could see the runway ahead of them now. It was paved and long. At least that was good news.

He glided in over the last set of trees, goosed the engines, and aimed for the end of the runway. The plan was to hit the ground as quickly as possible, reverse the props, gun the engines, and stand on the brakes while the loadmaster in the back was lowering the ramp. If they hit it right, the drop-down door on the second container would fall at the same time. The Jeep with its recoilless rifle would be on the runway before anyone knew it. Adin, with two of the commandos riding in the back, would open fire on anything that moved. Ben Rabin and the other men would push the ammo trailer onto the ramp and allow gravity to do the rest. In the meantime, two of the commandos would drop out through the forward cargo door on the port side while the plane was still moving, cross the runway, and set up two squad machine guns for covering fire.

The plane passed over the first threshold markings on the runway. The pilot pushed the yoke forward. Suddenly the portside window on the flight deck exploded. Pebbles of glass sprayed the pilot’s face as bullets whizzed past his nose, punching holes and blowing out dials in the instrument panel above his head.

A second burst of fire riveted the side of the plane, thumping the metal. The screen in front of the navigator exploded as the twenty-millimeter rounds sliced through the plane, blowing the man out of his chair and cutting him in half. Electrical shorts ignited flames in the wooden panel behind the screen. The aluminum in the plane began to burn as the flight engineer grabbed a fire extinguisher and began to spray.

“Keep it out of my eyes!” screamed the pilot. He struggled to control the plane as he tried to wipe blood from his face using his shoulder. The wheels on the undercarriage hit the ground hard, jamming the pilot’s lower back into the seat. It threw the flight engineer to the floor.

The pilot reached over and reversed the props, then pushed the throttle controls all the way forward. The plane nearly stood on its nose as it slowed. The pilot pressed on the brakes, his gaze fixed on the runway, when suddenly his eyes widened in horror. Coming head-on, the propellants’ exhaust was almost invisible as the rocket-propelled grenade smashed through the windshield and exploded inside.

The plane veered to the right. The guard with his rocket launcher still at his shoulder stood at the edge of the runway smiling for almost a second before the windmilling prop on the outboard engine sprayed him like chum into the open air.

The plane’s forward wheel rolled into a swale at the edge of the runway, then ran off the pavement. It buried itself in the deep gravel at the edge of the concrete.

The plane came to an abrupt stop with the four Allison engines racing in reverse. Ground fire, including tracers, poured into the two starboard engines from the buildings along the right side of the runway. One of the engines started to smoke, then sputtered and died.

“Could have warned him ’bout that,” said Herman. He grabbed Sarah by the arm and tried to pull her along behind him as they crawled low in the center aisle. She was anchored by the dog next to her. Bullets rattled against the plane, punching holes in the aluminum fuselage. Herman could hear them hitting the other side of the steel container, but none of them seemed to come through.

Up at the top of the ladder, the aluminum bulkhead to the flight deck was perforated with so many holes that it looked like lacework. The exploding grenade had peppered it with shrapnel.

Sarah jumped and Bugsy barked at the jarring clang as the heavy steel door on the second container dropped onto the deck of the cargo bay. A second later, the Jeep, its engine revving, shot out of the container and down the plane’s rear ramp.

The Hercules was stopped with its nose pitched down at an angle. This set the bottom of the ramp at a sharp angle to the concrete runway. The Jeep went airborne before it hit the ground. When it did, one of the commandos was jolted off the back of the vehicle. Sarah saw him go flying. She held her breath. He bounced and rolled like a rubber ball, landed on his feet, and started to run.

At the same instant two of the other commandos dropped out of the forward cargo door on the other side of the plane and disappeared.

Sarah looked back for the commando who had fallen from the Jeep. She watched as he took three strides before he was spun around and cut down by a swarm of bullets that sparked and chipped the concrete all around him. Sarah lay staring in shock as the man’s body continued to take hits, his life snuffed out in front of her eyes.

“Son of a bitch!” Just as Herman said it, a stitch of bullets penetrated the side of the plane in the gap between the two steel containers. Instantly four neat holes appeared in the stainless-steel fuel tank. Three of them started hemorrhaging high-octane aviation fuel into the cargo bay. “Time to go,” said Herman. “Stay with me and stay low.” Crouching down, he moved toward the open cargo door on the other side of the plane. When he looked back, Sarah was still lying on her stomach staring out the back of the plane at the dead man on the tarmac. Herman skidded across the aisle on one knee and grabbed her arm as if in a steel vise.

The pain broke her trance. Sarah shot him a glance.

“It’s too late to help him,” said Herman. He jerked her up onto her knees.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, but you gotta stay alive.” Herman gave her a look to kill.

Suddenly she smelled the aviation fuel. Sarah nodded. “Go. I’m right behind you.”

Herman got to the open door. A second later, Sarah and the dog were huddled up close behind him. Herman pulled one of the pistols from inside his belt under his shirt and cycled the slide to chamber a round. He looked out the door. He could see no incoming fire on this side of the plane. All of the rounds seemed to be coming from the buildings on the other side.

Every few seconds a tracer flashed by overhead and disappeared into the jungle in the distance. Rounds ricocheted off the concrete in the narrow gap under the belly toward the rear of the plane.

The reversed propellers created a virtual wind machine, all of it blowing in their direction, ahead of the wings. Herman was getting ready to jump when he looked down to his right and saw the body crumpled on the concrete a few feet away. The commando’s squad automatic weapon, the SAW machine gun, lay beside the man. One of the commandos made it, at least far enough to get away from the plane. The other one didn’t. He had gone to the rear where the belly of the plane had lifted up because of its nose-down position. At that location, there was no defilade behind the plane. It made him an easy target.

“As soon as you get out, move toward the front of the plane but stay flat on the ground,” Herman yelled over the roar of the engines. “Keep the plane between you and those buildings. And keep your head down.” As soon as he said it, Herman dropped out from the door. He landed on his feet, turned back, and grabbed Sarah by the waist as she crouched in the door. She jumped and he eased her out onto the ground.

Bugsy jumped from the plane. The noise of the engine and the sudden wind from the whirling prop scared him. He jerked on the leash and ripped it from her hand. Instantly he was gone.

Sarah looked over Herman’s shoulder and yelled: “Bugsy!” But her voice was swallowed in the din of the engine. She watched as the dog raced across the runway ahead of the ricocheting bullets. She couldn’t believe that they were actually shooting at him. For the first time she wanted a gun, something with which to strike back.

Herman tried to push her to the ground. Sarah would have none of it until she saw the dog disappear into the trees at the edge of the jungle. For a moment Sarah thought she might cry. Then she remembered the dead man on the tarmac.

She got down flat on the ground. Herman got down next to her.

“You OK?”

She nodded. “I’m not leaving without him.”

“Worry about staying alive,” said Herman. He looked around, trying to figure out their next move.

“What do we do now?”

“Sit tight,” said Herman. “Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” Before she could turn to look, Herman was gone toward the tail of the plane. He hugged the side of the fuselage as he approached the spinning props. The wind nearly peeled him off the metal. One of the engines on this side was already smoking.

The incoming fire seemed to diminish. Now there were only occasional bursts and single shots that could barely be heard over the roaring engines. Herman wondered where Adin and the Jeep had gone.

He got down on his hands and knees and scurried with the pistol in hand toward the dead commando and the SAW machine gun. Under the belly of the plane Herman could see several men in uniforms with assault rifles moving on the other side coming toward them. Between the approaching hostiles and the plane was a chain-link fence with a gate. The three armed men were maybe seventy meters beyond the fence.

Just as Herman reached the automatic weapon, a hand grasped his shirt. He looked down. The commando wasn’t dead. Herman came face-to-face with his open eyes. The soldier gestured toward his legs. He was wounded in both thighs and couldn’t walk.

Herman nodded, handed the machine gun to him, and grabbed the web harness at the back of his neck. “Ready?”

The guy nodded.

Herman dragged him twenty feet behind the belly of the plane where Sarah lay prone on the concrete.

The wounded soldier rolled onto his back. “Where is the colonel?”

Herman had to read his lips over the massive noise from the engines. He shook his head. “Don’t know.” He hadn’t seen Ben Rabin or any of the other commandos since the Jeep took off. He assumed they were still inside the plane. Herman fished in the guy’s backpack. He got up close in his ear and asked him if he had a medical kit. Herman wanted to stanch the bleeding from the wounds in the man’s legs.

The smell of fuel was becoming pungent as it dripped from the belly of the plane and ran into the concrete swale underneath. Herman took one look at the overheating engines. The plane provided cover for the moment, but he knew they couldn’t stay there for long.