Whack!
The sniper’s bullet passed through the glass of the window, striking Mahmud in the forehead. He collapsed like a rag doll dropped to the floor.
Yousef sprayed the darkness with another magazine, firing from under the side door. He had never been on the battlefield alone before. He could feel his heart pounding as he hugged the rocks and dirt. The wind was mercilessly howling in gusts, surging up and then down. One moment it would scream and then the next it would be silent. Like a turbine engine being turned on and off, it would spin up to a roar and then spin down to a stillness before it rose again.
I need Zulfiqar!
Yousef fumbled with his cell phone. It was the wrong one. This one was the international one with the number of the American cells. He reached in again, in the truck, keeping low, searching for the second cell phone.
“Allah, please, Allah.”
He found the second cell phone and hit the Call button. It rang and rang.
“Zulfiqar, come now, come now!”
“Let it go.”
Vaatofu Fury whispered the words as his sniper partner squeezed the trigger. It was the spotter’s signal to the sniper to fire the bullet. Villegas’s Windrunner .338 Lapua made a muffled thump as the silenced round left the barrel.
Fury kept the thermal bi-oculars on the target. The wind-blown sand was blinding, but they could keep track of the target from the warm red shape of a head above the cold blue of the truck body.
The bullet tore through the glass and knocked the terrorist back a foot. The unknown and unnamed red shape disappeared behind the cold blue outline of the SUV.
“We have one more out there,” Fury whispered to his sniper and Kevin Moncrief.
“What about Parker?” asked Moncrief. “Can you see him?”
“He hasn’t moved. Not since that last shot.”
“Any other movement?”
“There’s one more out there. I think he’s behind that front door, but I don’t have the angle.” Fury kept scanning the area around the truck with his AN/PAS-28 thermal bi-oculars. The letters AN/PAS were the military designators used to signify that it was a government-bought device and hence the designator Army/Navy. Using the invisible infrared light, the bi-oculars amplified the vibrating photons through sensitive optics that made dark objects visible.
“I’m going to get my Marine.”
“Don’t you want to wait a minute, Gunny?” asked Villegas. “You can’t help much if that last one gets you.”
Gunny Ndee had a smile, more of a smirk, on his face.
“If you could see me, you would be reading my lips right now, Villegas.” The gunny pulled the .45-caliber automatic out of his shoulder holster and pulled the slide back, checking the round in the chamber. He twisted the Titan silencer to make sure it was tight.
“Got it?” Villegas asked.
“Yeah.”
“Here’s an extra one.” Villegas handed him another clip of ammunition. “Keep your head down.”
“Hold on a minute, Gunny.” Fury held his hand out. “We’ve got company.” Fury scanned down the valley with his thermals. The lights of several trucks were shining on the rocks down the valley and behind Yousef ’s truck.
“Shit. One, two, three, four.” Fury stopped counting. The trucks looked like a convoy. He switched to his throat mike and radio. “Slashing talon six, this is slashing talon one, over.”
“One, this is six.” Furlong was keeping the conversation to as little as possible.
“One-zero-zero plus coming up the valley.” Its meaning was clear to Furlong. A force of more than a hundred was making its way toward them.
“Got them; pull out to alternate bravo.”
“Six, this is one. We copy.” They were to pull out from their forward position and move back up the valley to a preplanned, alternate meeting site under the protective fire of the second sniper team.
“You fellows go ahead,” said Moncrief. “I’m gonna go get my man.”
“You sure, Gunny?”
“Hell, yeah, I’m sure.”
“Then we ain’t going anywhere. We’ll cover you.”
“We don’t have time to debate this.” Moncrief pulled out a small pill packet, ripped it open, and swallowed two more super-pills.
“Shit, Gunny, I almost feel bad for the army coming up the hill.”
“You got that right.” Moncrief flashed a smile, then dashed down the rocky slope, navigating as best he could at speed through the lunar landscape. The truck still had its lights on, which marked its spot for Zulfiqar’s men, but also helped Moncrief keep a bearing on the rock where the tent was. He could hear the trucks coming up the valley and see the beams jumping up and down on the rocks. As he neared the tent, the lights of the others suddenly turned upvalley, toward him, and started to reflect light off the rocks that surrounded him.
“Will?”
Moncrief ducked as a pistol round passed over his head. It wouldn’t help to be shot by his own man.
“William? Parker? William?”
Moncrief heard a weak voice on the other side of the rock.
Moncrief saw the figure in between the rocks drop the pointed pistol.
“Damn, William, you look like shit.” Moncrief bent over Parker, who was bleeding from a laceration to his arm. Clearly, though, the real problem was the meningitis, which had weakened him severely. He was white, ashen white, even visible in the low light.
“We need to get out of here.” Moncrief pulled out a compression bandage and a small glue-like tube of hemostat wound repair from his hip pocket. He pulled up Parker, leaning him against the rock. “This will stop the bleeding.”
“Okay. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, right.”
“There’s something we have to take. Here. Carry this.” Parker handed him a small but heavy box.
Moncrief raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
“It’s one of the missing nuke cores.”
“Holy shit.” Moncrief looked at the box and then over the rocks toward the lights. “They’re coming up here fast. Yousef got himself reinforcements.”
“Just get out of here,” said Parker. “Take that box to Furlong.”
“Marine, I didn’t come this far to leave you.”
“Okay, then wait two minutes and then fire a round into that truck.” Parker handed him the Windrunner and then picked up the pistol lying near Umarov’s body.
“Are you sure?”
Parker managed a no-shit smirk, much like the one Moncrief had given Fury.
“All right, then,” said Moncrief. “But hurry up.”
CHAPTER 70
“Praise Allah,” breathed Yousef as he saw the convoy moving up the valley.
Now in the truck, Yousef stayed low behind the front wheel, waiting for the others to arrive as the wind whipped over his truck. He checked his rifle again to make sure that the magazine was seated. He had another full clip. He left on the vehicle’s lights, knowing that it made him a target, but equally sure that Zulfiqar’s men wouldn’t find him quickly enough without a lighted beacon to follow.
Whap!
A round struck the front hood of the truck.
Yousef felt the vehicle move, rocked by the force of the round. His fear began to take over again.
Whap!
Another round struck the radiator. Again, the truck rocked back and forth. Liquid started to gurgle out the bottom of the engine.
Yousef rubbed his forehead, feeling extremely feverish. In fact, despite the cold he was dripping in sweat. Muscles shaking.
The lights of the trucks came closer.
Zulfiqar. Come on.
He became emboldened once more by the approaching lights.