While Jackson looked for a good observation post, Mitchell dug into their gear in the back of the jeep. He was pleased to see that Yuri had ensured that their equipment was custom-made to order. Hidden inside the camera cases were a couple of brand new NVGs. A false bottom built into the back of the Rover hid two brand new Russian made AKS-74U carbines along with several already loaded banana-shaped magazines. After a less than scrumptious meal from their ration packs, the group settled down for the evening.
Mitchell took the first watch. Rummaging through his knapsack, he pulled out a gray fleece sweater and then took a seat alongside a rocky outcropping, resting his back against it. Mitchell could see that they had an unobstructed view for kilometers all around them. Looking up into the clear night sky, Mitchell was always amazed when he was deep in the desert at the unbelievable view of the stars without all the light pollution from a city blocking them out, and how damn cold it got once the sun went down. Towards the end of Mitchell’s four-hour shift, Jackson ambled over, plunked his massive frame down beside Mitchell, and handed him a cup of hot coffee. Mitchell thanked him. Together they sat in silence, listening to the noisy banter of a couple of jackals yelping and calling to one another across the lonely breadth of the desert.
“Sounds like someone is looking for a date,” joked Jackson.
“Yeah, but I bet she’s coyote ugly,” said Mitchell in reply, which garnered a disapproving moan from his friend.
“Worst joke of the mission,” said Jackson.
Mitchell took a sip of his coffee and then looked over at his friend. “I really appreciate you coming along, but you know you didn’t have to,” said Mitchell. “You’ve earned a break; no one would have said a word if you’d taken the time to be around your son.”
Jackson nodded. “Daniel’s doing fine these days. We’ve hired a private tutor who works with him three nights a week after school to get his grades back up to where they should be, and ever since he joined the high school football team, I’ve seen a profound change in him; he’s finally found something to focus on,” said Jackson. “Besides, my mother-in-law is coming to visit over the holidays so a little time away for me isn’t a bad thing.”
Mitchell chuckled and then suddenly stopped. Turning his head, he looked up towards the night sky. A faint rhythmic sound like a train riding the rails somewhere out in the dark caught his attention. Instantly, both men jumped to their feet and began scanning the horizon for the location of the noise.
Turning his NVGs on, Mitchell’s vision was instantly bathed in bright green. Slowly turning in place, Mitchell tried to locate what could only be the helicopters the locals had reported hearing.
A couple of dark shapes flying nap of the earth emerged out from a nearby valley and then started to climb towards a craggy ridgeline in the distance.
Mitchell quickly adjusted his NVGs to get a better picture and instantly recognized the helicopters as MI-8 Hips flying without any running lights on. They seemed to rise up for a moment, banked over to the left, and then swiftly disappeared from view. Mitchell grinned; they had them. Grabbing their gear, Mitchell and Jackson sprinted down to the Land Rover. Quickly grabbing his map, Mitchell marked the position where the helicopters had vanished.
It looked to be no more than ten kilometers cross-country.
Jackson placed a quick call to Sam to let them know what they had seen, and that they were going to check it out right away.
Hearing all the commotion, Fahimah shot up, wide-awake. Pulling her blanket over her shoulders, she walked over to the side of the Rover to see what was going on. Mitchell quickly filled her in and then told her to pack.
“It’s time to do some night driving, cross-country no less,” said Mitchell to Jackson with a grin on his face.
“I hate driving by NVG,” grumbled Jackson.
“Ok then, I’ll drive.”
“No way, Captain, you’re bad enough with a map. I sure as hell ain’t gonna let you drive cross-country by NVG.”
“Your call,” said Mitchell as he dug out the two AKs from the back of the jeep. Slamming home a thirty-round magazine in his AK, Mitchell pulled back on the charging lever, loading a round into the chamber. His mind fixed on one goaclass="underline" finding and rescuing Jen and her mother before the sun came up.
23
Jen felt her stomach flip over as her helicopter dove out of the night sky. Although a good flyer, she rarely flew in a helicopter and had never been in one flown by an ex-military pilot who acted as if he were still flying in Afghanistan trying to avoid surface-to-air missiles. Grabbing onto the nearest handhold, Jen closed her eyes. Just as she thought she might lose her last meal, the moment quickly passed. Jen sat uncomfortably rocking back and forth in her seat, berating herself about having eaten before boarding the chopper for the scariest ride of her life.
The inside of the helicopter was blackened out with only the green lights from the pilot’s controls lighting up the cabin, making it seem far smaller than it really was.
Turning her head to look outside, Jen could not see a thing in the pitch-black night. She doubted her mother was enjoying it any more than she was, as she was squeezing Jen’s hand so tightly that it almost hurt.
Jen took a deep breath to calm her nerves as the helicopter banked over sharply and then abruptly slowed down as it positioned itself to land. A moment later, its wheels touched down on the rock-strewn surface on top of the ridge.
Their guard, a youthful-looking woman with a strong Scottish accent, quickly unbuckled herself and then helped Jen to unbuckle Mrs. March from her harness.
The side door on the helicopter opened and cool, refreshing air rushed inside. Jen stepped through the open door and took a deep breath. Taking her mother by the hand, they followed close behind their guard as she led them towards a well-lit white canvas tent guarded by several well-armed thugs. Jen was not surprised to see Romanov waiting for them, his hands resting on his hips with a faint smile on his lips.
“My dearest ladies, I am so glad that you could come here tonight,” said Romanov as if welcoming old friends.
“I didn’t think we had a choice,” said Mrs. March, glaring at Romanov.
“You didn’t,” he replied, still smiling. “Now, ladies, I have some good news that I wish to share with you both.”
“You’re letting us go?” said Jen sardonically.
“No, but just as Madame Yusuf foretold, we have found the remains of the Goliath, resting in a deep crevice not very far from here,” said Romanov.
“Then you don’t need us,” Jen said.
“Au contraire, I need you to find the crown jewels for me,” replied Romanov. “Madame Yusuf was quite specific about that. She insisted that you had to be here to tell me where to look in the wreckage.”
Jen bit her lip to stifle a scream. So much seemed to be riding on her, but she had absolutely no clue how she was going to pull off the miracle Romanov’s mystic claimed she was capable of doing.
Romanov snapped his fingers and then turned his back on the women as he stepped inside the tent. Two well-armed men moved over beside Jen and her mother and waved for them to follow Romanov. Stepping inside, Jen saw that there were several tables covered with debris collected from the crash site. A couple of white-lab-coated technicians were busy photographing and recording everything. On the table nearest to her were some personal effects from the crash: glasses, watches, and the occasional pitiful item of singed clothing were all that remained of the passengers and crew of the doomed airship.