“One person beside myself.” Pompano turned to Bruce. “You are responsible for Yolanda being there — you will come with me.”
Simone held up a hand. “Wait a minute. He’s a fighter pilot, not a Jungle Joe.”
“Two people can slip through the jungle unseen. I can get us through to the … hiding place. I know how Cervante stakes his guards, and it will be a simple matter to rescue Yolanda and your vice president, then move back out to the jungle.”
“If it’s so damned simple, then why can’t you let some trained people go with you? People who know what the hell they’re doing?!”
Pompano shook his head. “I cannot oversee more than one person. I will not allow my daughter to die because of some American’s enthusiasm when rescuing your vice president. And since Cervante has the HPM weapon, you cannot fly in. I know the area.”
Bruce jumped into the foray. “Pompano is right, General. I’ve been through jungle survival, I can handle it. A chopper can drop us off near the hiding place. A few of the air-to-ground guys can give us air support once we rescue the vice president.”
Simone turned to Bruce, astonished. “What in the hell are you talking about, Lieutenant? This isn’t some party you’re going to! It’s rescuing the President of the United States! What are you going to do, waltz in there and ask them for Mr. Adleman? You’re not a Rambo; you don’t even have combat experience!”
“It’s our only chance, General,” interrupted Bruce. He felt a sense of justification. Here was a chance to cleanse the error he had made in allowing the vice president’s plane to have been taken down in the first place. He had been personally responsible for escorting and protecting the plane … and he had failed. He couldn’t speak fast enough to get all the feelings out: that Yolanda would never have been abducted if it hadn’t been for his persistence in seeing her … in going around Pompano’s back during the last few days of their relationship.…
“All right!” Simone held up a hand. Bruce fell silent, words still stuck in the back of his throat. Simone studied Bruce and Pompano; his shoulders slumped. “All right, all right. Do it.”
Simone shot a glance at his aide. “Get a Black Hawk ready to take Lieutenant Steele and Mr. Sicat in-country. Scramble Bolte’s wing and have them ready to lay down enough metal to sink this island once Bruce gets Mr. Adleman out.” He was silent for a second. “And get Lutler from Special Ops on the line — have one of his MC-130s get the Fulton system ready.”
Simone turned back to Bruce. “All right — twenty minutes. Get Mr. Sicat out to the flight line; swing by Special Ops for combat vests.” He hesitated. “And Bruce.”
“Yes, sir?”
“The second you get back into the jungle with Adleman — get on the radio. We’re getting him the hell out of there, either with a Fulton pickup or a Black Hawk.”
“Yes, sir.”
Major General Simone watched the door slam. His eyes were focused on the ornate wooden door, carved out of monkey wood from the jungles outside of Mactan, at the tiny Air Force station in the southern Islands; but Simone saw nothing. Nothing but the lives of four people hanging on a thin thread of hope.
“General?”
Hendhold was standing by the phone. Hell, that was all the major had been doing the past few hours. Standing by the phone and relaying bad news.
“What is it?”
“Admiral Gresham’s office at Subic. They’re pretty upset at being left out of the Search and Rescue planning.”
“Stall them. Tell ’em we’re trying to pull the Navy planners in on this as soon as we can.”
“Yes, sir.”
Simone’s thoughts drifted back to Bruce and Pompano. His mind shifted into high gear. As soon as the Black Hawk let the two down into the jungle, he’d have another reconnaissance run made of the area. The vice president wouldn’t be far away.
Once Simone had the hiding place pinpointed, he knew he could mount his own rescue mission, a real mission, with troops who were trained for this type of stuff — SEALs, PJs — and and not just an old man and a fighter pilot. They’d be able to watch the place from a distance, keep an eye on Bruce’s progress — even take out the HPM weapon, if it had been deployed. For if something did happen, Simone swore that he would be right on top of it.
“General? Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Subic isn’t buying it. Even though Admiral Greshan is out with the Fleet, he’s demanding an answer. And sir, he is a four-star.”
Simone pulled in a breath. “I’ll take it.” Time for Hendhold to get some rest — Simone knew that he couldn’t dodge all the crap coming his way.
Chapter 20
Thop thop thop thop. Helicopter city. Squat, heavy, big ones with camouflage green; medium-sized ones with cold, sleek features; and baby ones with tiny rotors, ones that didn’t even belong to the Americans but existed solely for the Philippine Constabulary.
Everywhere helicopters. They bubbled out of the ground, growing from the black asphalt and multiplying in the rain.
Bruce checked over the pistol and M-16 that had been given to him by the Special Ops Squadron. He was not very proficient in either, knowing only that the gun was a .38-caliber with a silencer. He had shot the M-16 once at the Academy, and again during Jungle Survival School. Bruce was a fair shot, but he knew that if it ever came down to using the weapons, they were in deep trouble.
They gathered their weapons together. Bruce caught a glimpse of himself in the front mirror. Blackened face, camouflaged fatigues, and jungle boots. He had never cared for playing army.
As they walked toward the helicopter, a familiar face appeared at the hatch. “What’s the matter — you like the rain? Hurry up so we can get out of here.”
Bruce brightened at the sight of Captain Head. “Cripes, I couldn’t have asked for a better crew.”
“Come on, Steele, get your ass on board.” Head stayed out of the rain and motioned for the two to hurry.
Bruce swung up into the chopper. He turned to give Pompano a helping hand, but the older man shrugged him off.
Head glanced at the old Filipino. Pompano drew himself up and stared blandly at the helicopter pilot. Head said, “It’s going to be tough navigating in this weather.” He made a motion with his hands. “You understand? The clouds are low, and we can’t see very well. Especially if we get up into the mountains.”
“I understand.”
“Then can you show me where it is we’re going? I’m not crazy about flying into the side of a mountain. This is definitely not VFR conditions.” At Pompano’s blank stare, he said, “VFR — Visual Flight Rules. You know, being able to see where we’re going.”
“I will tell you where to go.”
Head set his mouth. “Look. I understand what you want, but we just can’t do it like that—”
Bruce grabbed Captain Head by the arm and pulled him aside. “Listen, the guy’s a rock. Nothing gets into his brain unless he wants it to. Simone just had a pissing contest with the guy and lost! So do what you can, but don’t argue with him.”
“Give me a break — look at the weather, for crying out loud!”
“Do you really think the military would mount a rescue mission with this old fart and me if they didn’t have to?”
Captain Richard Head opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and snorted. He threw up his hands “Okay … okay.” He threw a glance at Pompano. “A pissing contest with Simone?”
“Honest.”