Harvath double-tapped him with two rounds to the chest and followed with another to the head, dropping him where he stood. The rebel who had taken Decker into the jungle was nowhere to be seen.
The doctor, though, sat at the back of the tent. A gag had been placed around her mouth and her hands and feet had been bound.
Because he was a believer in keeping radio traffic minimal, Harvath had given the Brits a handful of code words he would use during his search. Unless there was an absolute emergency, they had agreed not to distract his op by hailing him. Harvath now recited the word that would tell them that he had located and retrieved Dr. Decker. “Omaha,” he said over his bone mic.
Ash sent back two squelch clicks indicating he had received the message.
Holding his index finger to his lips, Harvath bent down and loosened her gag. He then untied her hands and feet.
“Can you move?” he whispered.
Decker nodded.
“Good,” he replied, helping her up. “Where’s the man who brought you here?”
“I don’t know. He asked me some questions about medical supplies and what we had in the trucks, then he left.”
Harvath quickly radioed the team and told them to be on guard. Pointing at the man on the cot, he said, “Who’s he?”
“Their commander.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Without a lab test, I can’t be sure. It could be anything. It could be the flu. It could even be yellow fever.”
“Will he survive without a hospital?”
“Maybe. But without a proper diagnosis, I can’t say either way.”
Harvath picked up Decker’s medical bag and handed it to her. “Follow right behind me. Step exactly where I step and do exactly what I say. Don’t make a sound. Do you understand?”
Once again, she nodded.
Turning off the lanterns, he flipped his NVGs back down. Once his eyes were focused on the ghostly green image, he led Decker to the front of the tent.
He parted the flaps and took several moments to scan the area. When he was convinced it was safe, he waved her forward and had her step out into the rain.
As she did, Harvath turned and shot the rebel commander twice in the head. No loose ends.
He inserted a fresh magazine and led Decker back the way he had come, keeping a very careful lookout for trip wires.
There was also the issue of at least seven, and possibly more, heavily armed rebel soldiers remaining.
The six back in the encampment, if still sleeping, were of no importance to him. It was the seventh rebel, the one who had controlled the toll stop and had led Decker away that he was concerned with. He was a huge loose end and could be a big problem for CARE now and in the future. If they let him live, the FRPI rebels wouldn’t stop until they had exacted their revenge.
They were nearly even with the encampment when Harvath’s earpiece crackled to life.
“The rebels know you’re there,” Ash radioed. “You need to get the hell out of there.”
Harvath was about to ask how the Brits knew, but then remembered that Jambo was monitoring the communications.
“Turn the vehicles around and move them half a click back,” Harvath said. “If anybody wants to get to you, they’ll be forced to come straight down the road.”
“That goes for you too,” Ash reminded him.
“Maybe not,” said Harvath. “Hurry up. We’ll get there as soon as we can.”
Signing off, he picked up the pace. As they neared the antipersonnel trap he had seen earlier, he slowed back down. Because he hadn’t been able to mark its position, it took him a few moments to find it. Once he did, he held the pin in place while Decker clipped the cord that functioned as the trip wire.
He thought about tossing the grenade into the tent that acted as the rebels’ supply depot, but as quickly as the idea had entered his mind, he dismissed it. There was no telling how many rebels were converging on them. He only had one grenade. He would need to make it count.
Skirting the encampment, he could see the previously sleeping rebels pouring out of their tent. He had the thickness of the jungle and the darkness on his side, so he stopped just long enough to take two shots. Both rounds found their marks and two more rebels lay dead.
By the time their comrades noticed, Harvath and Decker were already on the move. That didn’t stop the soldiers from firing wildly into the jungle where they thought their attackers had been.
It was chaos, which was the state Harvath wanted to put the enemy in. The more confused, the more unsure, the more stressed they were, the better it was for him. People who were off balance had trouble thinking and usually screwed up.
It was why, in his SEAL training, he had been deprived of sleep and stressed to the breaking point. Never allow failure to become an option. Adapt and overcome.
When they finally stepped out of the underbrush and rejoined the path that led to the road, Harvath could hear the rebels coming. He and Decker didn’t have a big enough lead. They needed to open up a wider gap.
At the first chemlight marker, he told Decker to keep going. Snatching up one of the AK-47s he had cached, he turned and fired in the rebels’ direction.
When he had emptied the first of the duct-taped magazines, he flipped it, and inserted the fresh one. He laid rounds right up the path again, and then swung the weapon from side to side, hoping to spray anyone who had tried to jump out of the way. Once he had run the weapon dry, he took off after Decker.
The move bought them an additional twenty seconds of a head start. He did the same thing at the next secreted AK-47 and the one after that, never knowing if he had succeeded in taking out any of the men giving him chase. Run the weapon dry and move. Run the next weapon dry and move. That was his picket line.
While the dense jungle provided concealment, the path didn’t offer much in the way of cover. As they neared the last AK-47, Harvath had a decision to make.
They would be about fifty meters from the road. It would be incredibly slow going trying to move parallel through the jungle until they reached the Land Cruisers and could safely pop out. Should they make a break for it together and try to run up the road, or should Harvath make his stand here while Decker made a break for it alone?
By his count, he had two fully loaded Glock mags, in addition to what was already in his weapon, plus the two mags that would be with the AK-47. He also had the hand grenade. But that would only work if he could bottle the soldiers up. If they were spread throughout the jungle, it would be far less effective.
And where there was one grenade, there were going to be more. Once they began to close in on him, what would stop them from using them? If the coast was clear, he decided he’d take his chances with Decker on the road. They could always cut back into the jungle if they had to. He would use the last AK to buy them a few more precious seconds.
As they got to the last marker, their lungs heaving for air, he lunged for the weapon, but it was gone.
CHAPTER 7
Before Harvath could warn Decker to stop, the man had grabbed her. It was the same Congolese rebel who had escorted her into the jungle in the first place. He stood behind her, his left arm wrapped around her throat. His right hand held the pistol-style grip of his AK-47. His finger was curled around the trigger. The muzzle of the weapon was pressed into her back. The other AK-47 hung from the man’s shoulder.
Harvath thought about his options. None of them were good. He didn’t have a clean shot. The only thing he could do was save himself. The word that rhymed with truck popped back into his mind as he raised his Glock.