CHAPTER 85
Jack held the throttle wide open as the snow machine-sled combo flew over imperfections in the ice. Leah hung on to Jack and Marko clung to Leah. Paulson and Garrett lay in the sled, holding on for dear life, their eyes closed against the stinging ice thrown up by the tracks. Jack caught a flash of sunlight gleaming off a metal surface. It was the Caribou, and it still seemed a million miles away.
To say it didn’t sit well with him, leaving Juan behind, was an understatement. He silently hoped somehow Juan, Ridley, and the mechanics might make their escape when they saw the snow machine tearing down the mountain.
We’ll need five minutes, he thought. Our entire lives are coming down to five lousy minutes.
Beckam ran from his position near the rear of the LC-130 Hercules, past the B-29 and toward the Russian camp. In the distance, he saw a speck flying across the ice toward the Caribou parked 2,000 meters in the distance. The snowcats are too slow to catch them, he thought, but the snow machines are a different story.
Several of the CIA guards armed with automatic weapons suddenly sprinted away from the LC-130 and hopped aboard the high-performance sleds.
“That asshole Fischer will kill them,” Beckam muttered his normally cool SEAL temperament boiling over. He bolted toward a snow machine, weapon in hand, shouting into his headset as he did. “Get weapons around the civilians! Fischer is going to send rounds down range and I don’t want him ordering anyone else shot in the process!”
Jack skidded to a stop next to the Caribou; Paulson rolled out of the sled and ran for the switch that actuated the loading ramp from outside the aircraft.
“How much time do we have?” Leah asked.
“Less than we need,” said Jack.
Paulson dashed into the empty cargo hold of the Caribou, headed for the cockpit. Twenty long seconds later, the sliding cockpit side window slammed open.
“Clear!” he shouted.
Jack yanked Leah away from the propeller as the Number One engine belched black smoke twice and then settled into a reciprocating roar. He unfastened the steel wire tie-downs and then pointed toward the rear of the Caribou.
“Run for the loading ramp!”
CHAPTER 86
Ridley knelt on the tire and worked at the oversized stem with a flathead screwdriver. “One more turn and this place will be flooded with propane in less than thirty seconds. I want everyone to stand near the door. After we blow it, run for the Hercules, and let’s see if we can grab a couple of those weapons.”
Ridley glanced up. When Rooster nodded Ridley pulled out the sealing mechanism and ice-cold propane streamed out into the shed in a thick, white mist.
“One, two, three, four — go!” he shouted.
With Juan and Rooster in the lead, they burst through the door. The SEAL guard instantly spun around and raised his weapon.
Rooster and Juan stopped and raised their hands in the air. “Don’t shoot!” they both shouted simultaneously.
The sound of automatic gunfire in the distance distracted the SEAL for a millisecond. Rooster causally opened a Bic lighter, gave it a flick with his fingers and it popped alight. He turned around and in a single motion, tossed the lighter under hand through the open door.
“Gentlemen. Now would be a good time to hit the ground,” he said.
In a blink, the building exploded, sending wood and metal shrapnel in every direction and blowing the SEAL backward onto the ice.
“It’ll be close,” Paulson shouted. His eyes worked over the instruments, and he cranked around the nose wheel orienting the Caribou into a direction offering them the best possibility of making a successful takeoff. “If they decide to open up with any of that artillery, we’re never getting off the ground.”
Jack was unable to reply because armor-piercing rounds suddenly cut through the wings and the tail section of the aircraft, filling the old Caribou with the sounds of ripping and tearing metal.
A second later, one of the white-hot rounds pierced the fuel tank, and the aircraft erupted into flame.
“Get out!” he cried to Paulson.
Toxic smoke burned deep in his lungs as he blindly felt his way back to the last spot he remembered seeing Leah. He felt an arm grabbing for his and turned to find Leah with a hand over her nose and mouth. Taking her hand, he searched frantically for a way to exit the burning aircraft. He spotted a combination of flames and natural light piercing the skin of the Caribou. He dived for the opening, pulling her through the skin of the aircraft toward the snow and ice.
CHAPTER 87
Beckam sprinted past the Las Tortugas and toward one of the snow machines. The civilians were standing outside of the machine shop, their hands held high in the air. The young SEAL standing guard swung his weapon toward the civilians, and for an instant, Beckam feared he might fire on them.
When he didn’t, Beckam felt an intense flash of relief. As he opened his mouth to order the civilians back into the machine shop, one of them spun and tossed a silver object toward the opened door.
He stopped running and just managed to get his hands up to chest level when the blast knocked him backward. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was the sound of automatic gunfire — and screaming.
CHAPTER 88
Fischer stood at the lip of the crevasse, watching black smoke billowing up from the Caribou in the distance. The sound of automatic gunfire had erupted within seconds of his issuing the command to abort the takeoff by any means necessary.
Just when he thought the situation was under control, another huge explosion rocked the valley. Fischer’s eyes darted back toward the Russian camp, where a plume of black smoke burst from one of the Russian buildings.
Fischer pulled out his handheld radio and keyed the transmitter. “This is Steel Point. What the hell is going on down there?”
“The civilians detonated something in one of the huts and assaulted our position.”
“What’s your status?”
“Several of the civilians are down, but our aircraft’s secure.”
“I see the civilian transport aircraft is burning,” Fisher said. “Are there any survivors?”
“I doubt anyone could survive that fire.”
Fischer’s eyes narrowed as he issued the order. “We are in final phase. Repeat — we are in final phase.”
The voice over the transmitter paused. “Are you ready for the package?”
Fischer wiped a drop of sweat from his brow despite the freezing cold. “Send over the package.”
“Headed your way.”
CHAPTER 89
Jack had grabbed Leah’s hand and dragged her toward a jagged hole in the fuselage. They both instinctively protected their eyes and dived through headfirst, ending up on blackened ice with Jack leading her away from the burning aircraft. A minute later, she lay gagging as her lungs purged themselves of lethal smoke and fumes.
“I will be forced to shoot if you move,” said a steely voice from behind them.
“There are others,” Jack said. He struggled to his feet and spun around and faced the CIA field agent and his automatic weapon. “I’ve got to get them out.”
“If they’re not out, they’re not getting out.”
“I can’t leave them,” Leah said. She pointed her finger at the combat-gear-clad agent-soldier, her eyes blazing with anger. “You’re nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer.”
She reached out, but Jack held a firm grip on her jacket.
Three figures suddenly appeared through the smoke. Two of the agent-soldiers, also armed with automatic weapons, escorted them away from the inferno.