Jackson nodded, dug out his phone from his chest rig, and passed on Mitchell’s directions to Fahimah.
In the distance, Teplov ground his teeth, knowing that his quarry was escaping him yet again. “Not this time!” swore Teplov. Turning on his heels, he saw the answer to his problem. A smile broke on his face. In the distance sat an MI-8 helicopter, its crew already warming up its engine in anticipation of taking off. Grabbing a radio from a passing soldier, he gave a set of orders to Chang. His eyes burned with hatred. This time, there will be no escape, thought Teplov.
25
A small horned lizard darted out from under its hiding place and looked into the once quiet night. It sat there with its head raised, wondering what was going on, when it suddenly heard a strange noise approaching quickly out of the dark. A second later Mitchell’s jeep turned a bend, barely missing the lizard, which had wisely scrambled back under its rock for safety.
Mitchell had no idea where he was going. He tried to keep the camp behind him and the cliff they climbed earlier off to his right. The narrow trail they were on bent slightly to the right and then began to meander down off the ridge towards the desert floor.
Both Mitchell and Jackson let out a deep breath when the jeep finally touched down onto a sandy desert track leading away from the dig site. Looking up at the stars, Mitchell soon found the North Star and guessed that they were now more or less going in the right direction, heading west towards Ouadane.
The sat-phone suddenly rang, startling both Mitchell and Jackson.
Fahimah reported that she was on the move and that Sam and Cardinal were moving to join her as well. Mitchell was relieved that she at least was safe. Fahimah was his responsibility. Thankfully, she was proving to be more than capable of looking after herself in stressful situations. Mitchell made a mental note to talk to General O’Reilly about making her a permanent member of the team once they got back home.
“Now what, boss?” said Jackson, as he looked over his shoulder for any sign of pursuit.
“We’re going to RV with the rest of the team and find out all we can about Dmitry Romanov and where exactly his oil-refinery is, so I can come up with a plan to rescue Jen,” said Mitchell.
“Well, when you say it…” Jackson’s voice trailed off. “Hard right, now!” yelled Jackson as he pivoted around in his seat and brought his AK up to his shoulder.
Mitchell did not hesitate. Cranking the driver’s wheel hard over to the right, he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. Instantly, the jeep leapt forward, just as a bright-red streak of tracers from a 12.7mm machine gun lanced out of the night sky, chewing up the dirt where the jeep had been a mere second before.
Jackson fired furiously up into the darkened belly of the MI-8 as it flew overhead, hunting them.
The sound of bullets striking the undercarriage of the helicopter sounded like hail bouncing off corrugated iron. With an armor-reinforced belly, there was no way that Jackson’s AK fire had any hope of bringing the flying beast down.
Chang’s deputy, Kolikov, adjusted his NVGs on his head and then looked out the side window of the MI-8, hoping to catch a glimpse of his prey. He cursed the door gunner for opening up too early. Looking down, he could not see Mitchell’s jeep in the green image of his glasses. Turning in his seat, he ordered the pilot to turn about and come back over Mitchell’s last position, hoping to finish him off with the next pass.
“These people are starting to piss me off,” said Mitchell as he spun the wheel and aimed the jeep for a dry riverbed. The old vehicle bounced up wildly as Mitchell pushed the jeep’s suspension to the point of breaking as he tried to find some cover before the helicopter made another pass.
The sound of rotor blades grew louder as a dark object sped towards the jeep, its menacing dark shape silhouetted against the star-filled sky.
Mitchell struck the steering wheel with his hands, willing the jeep to go faster.
Jackson took aim and fired off the remainder of his magazine, hoping to hit the large front windshield and, if he was lucky, kill the pilot of the MI-8.
Kolikov saw the muzzle flash below and instantly heard the sound of the bullets striking the front of the helicopter. A lucky round struck the windshield right in front of the pilot, shattering the glass inwards. Instinctively, the pilot raised a hand to protect his face and pulled hard on the joystick, banking the helicopter up and away from the bullets striking the craft. A second later, Kolikov heard a long burst of machine-gun fire from the right-side door gunner’s heavy machine gun letting loose.
Mitchell felt and heard the sound of bullets hitting the back of the jeep, ripping anything unlucky to be back there to ribbons. The ground soon angled down and Mitchell steered the jeep into a dry riverbed. Looking desperately in the dark, Mitchell saw a large rocky outcropping about fifty meters away that presented the best place for cover. Sliding to a halt, Mitchell and Jackson jumped out of the jeep and ran for the cover of the outcropping, just as the sound of the helicopter’s rotors filled their ears. A second later, the MI-8 flew right over their hiding spot, firing off a long burst towards the empty jeep, tearing it to pieces.
“We can’t stay here forever,” said Jackson, removing his empty magazine and replacing it with a fresh one.
“Well, we just lost our only mode of transportation,” said Mitchell, looking over at their destroyed jeep. Peering out from under the rocks, he tried to discern where their attacker was going to come from next.
“I’m open to ideas,” said Jackson, looking up into the sky for the helicopter.
A smile emerged on Mitchell’s face. “Nate, see if you can find an intact jerry can of gas on the back of the jeep and then dump three-quarters of it out.”
Jackson shook his head. “You can’t be serious. That only worked once before and that was because copious amounts of alcohol were involved.”
“Do you have any other ideas?”
Jackson shook his head, darted over to the smoldering jeep and hauled off the only intact jerry can of gasoline. Unscrewing the cap, he quickly dumped about a quarter of the can onto the ground, screwed the lid back on tight, and then sprinted back to Mitchell just as the helicopter flew overhead. Bullets tore up the sand, missing Jackson’s feet by mere millimeters.
“Ok, we get one shot and one shot only at this,” said Mitchell, looking along the horizon for the MI-8. “He’s come at us from the west and east on his last two approaches. I suspect he’s figured it out by now exactly where we are, so if I were him, I would come at us from north to south straight down this gully and try flushing us out.”
“That makes sense, but your plan doesn’t,” said Jackson. “However, since I don’t have anything better to offer, let’s do it,” Jackson said, holding the jerry can tightly in his hands.
The sound of rotor blades cutting through the air somewhere in the dark signaled the beginning of another run by the chopper.
Jackson took a deep breath, stepped out from under the cover of the rocks and into the open and started to rock the jerry can back and forth between his feet, gaining momentum with each swing.
Moving to where he could see straight down the gully, Mitchell pulled his rifle in tight against his shoulder and took aim about twenty meters into the air above Jackson.
The helicopter suddenly dove down out of the dark.
“Wait for it…wait for it…” said Mitchell calmly, trying to judge the right time.
Dropping lower, the helicopter raced towards the gully, intending to finish them off.