Staff Sergeant Lou Colvin was the first to reach the Porter. She dropped her heavy web equipment suspenders, but held onto her M-16 as she dived through the cargo door. She scrambled into the copilot’s seat. Eight security cops were right behind her, each dropping their equipment and ammo belts, but holding onto their weapons as they climbed in. Lou reached around and pulled a cop onto her lap. Six more cops squeezed in behind them. “We’re full, Boss!” Williams shouted.
“We got six more to go,” Allston replied. “Stack ’em in like cord wood.” The Porter rocked on its landing gear as five more cops piled in. Finally, only Malone was left. Malone shook his head, indicating there was no room, and motioned for them to leave. Allston turned to the mashed-in bodies behind him. “Troops, we’re gonna sit here until you drag Malone on board. So get with the program.” Again, the Porter rocked as the cops rearranged themselves in three layers. Two pair of hands reached out to pull Malone in. The sergeant’s legs were still dangling outside as Allston ran the engine up and taxied onto the runway. He released the brakes.
They were airborne in less than a thousand feet.
Mission Awana
A very angry Brigadier General Richards paced back and forth as Allston taxied the Porter in. He deliberately parked on the far side of the ramp to make her walk before he cut power and climbed out the small pilot’s door. He walked around the long nose to wait for the general while willing hands pulled security cops out of the cargo bay. The four-bladed prop was still spinning down when Richards reached the aircraft. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she said, her voice low and threatening.
Allston ignored her and did a quick head count. Lou Colvin was there with twenty security cops. Williams was the last to climb out of the Porter, the wet bandana still around his neck. “Any water left?” Allston asked. He couldn’t believe how thirsty he was.
Williams laughed and tossed Allston a hip flask with brandy. “I soaked it in this. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Allston took a swig and tossed it back.
“Answer my question,” Richards demanded. “What were you doing?”
“Getting my people out of harm’s way, General.”
“You disobeyed a direct order to turn your aircraft over to the UN.”
Allston looked at her calmly. “I never got that order.”
“I gave it to you!”
“General, for the record, we are under the operational control of the UN Relief and Peacekeeping Mission Southern Sudan. You are not in that chain of command. I did not have the time, much less the communications, to verify any such order with the UN.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Colonel, don’t play the barracks lawyer with me. You violated a direct order, and I’m relieving you of command.”
“Again, ma’am, you are not in my chain of command,” Allston replied. He fell silent as Toby drove up in his battered Land Rover.
“We’ll see about that,” Richards snapped. “Who’s the senior security cop here?”
“That would be Master Sergeant Jerry Malone.” Allston pointed to the group huddled around Malone. “He’s over there.” He watched as Richards stormed across the ramp, her rage building.
“That is one angry lady,” Toby said from behind him.
“Indeed she is. Can I catch a lift to the guesthouse?” He climbed in and didn’t look back.
Jill was waiting on the veranda of the guesthouse when Allston and Toby arrived. The large house was alive with activity. “Your new headquarters,” Toby said. Allston climbed out of the Land Rover and Toby drove away. Jill ran down the steps to meet him. For a fraction of second, Allston thought she would throw her arms around him, but the major skidded to a halt and saluted.
“We were worried,” Jill said. He returned the salute, and she handed him a new satellite phone. “I thought you might need this.”
“Thanks. I will now. Any word on the trucks and the Legion?”
“Colonel Vermullen radioed in. They ran into a roadblock that had also stopped the supply trucks. Luckily, the Legion arrived in time or the trucks would have been hijacked. He convinced the guards it wasn’t a good idea.” Allston laughed, imagining Vermullen in a cold rage. “The Legion is escorting the trucks in,” Jill continued, “and should arrive in thirty or forty minutes.” She paused. “Your staff is all here.”
Allston nodded. He couldn’t ask for four better officers to serve on his staff, and that included the irascible Malaby. “Super. We need to sort things out and settle in.”
“Settle in?” Malaby asked. “Aren’t we pulling out? Everyone seems to think we are.”
“Not at this time,” Allston replied. “We’re going to set up operations right here. We’re back in business.”
Jill finally understood. “So that’s why you needed the supply trucks. What about the Legion? Will they stay?” They both knew the presence of the Legion was the only thing that would keep the Sudanese at bay.
“I believe so. Idi wants to settle some outstanding debts. Speaking of which, send some one to pick up General Richards and Sergeant Malone at the airstrip, then join us.”
E-Ring
The colonel giving the briefing was enjoying himself as the high-definition image appeared on the big computer-driven screen. He was the project officer for the latest version of Eagle Eye, an unmanned aerial vehicle developed for reconnaissance, and it had performed beyond all expectations. “Eagle Eye had been on station above Malakal for thirty-six hours when these images were captured” — he checked his watch — “sixty-four minutes ago.”
“Altitude?” Fitzgerald asked.
“Ten thousand feet,” the colonel answered. Fitzgerald stared at him, waiting for an explanation. The colonel caught the unasked question. “We’re testing Eagle Eye’s daylight stealth capability, as well as its communications monitoring capability. The Sudanese Army talks incessantly over the radios, and at no time did we detect a transmission indicating they had detected Eagle Eye’s presence. Based on that result, we believe we can operate as low as five thousand feet at night.” Again, the colonel keyed on Fitzgerald’s look and quickly added, “But only in that environment, sir.” He cycled through the images. “We believe the man you see here setting the fires is Master Sergeant Malone.” The images cycled and stopped. “The Pilatus Porter you see here circling in and out of the smoke belongs to Mission Awana, and was piloted by Lieutenant Colonel Allston.” He hit the advance button. “In this frame, you can see rounds being fired from the Porter and striking the earthen berm surrounding the fuel dump. In this sequence, the Porter is climbing and again firing into the fuel bladders. The results were quite spectacular.” The image of the fuel dump fireballing lit up the room.
The image changed to the Porter landing on the ramp. “Colonel Allston used the burning fuel dump as cover to land and extract the remaining security police, one of whom was a woman. Her identity is unknown at this time. The aircraft recovered safely at Mission Awana, twenty miles from Malakal.”
“Twenty-one bodies in a Porter?” Fitzgerald asked.
“Actually, twenty-three counting the pilot and gunner. We think it may have set a record for the Porter.”