“Destroy the craft and the people.”
The pilot nodded.
Mualama shaded his eyes. “It’s a helicopter with army markings.”
“I think we’d better get out of here,” Duncan suggested.
“If we leave this”… Mualama pointed at the stone and coffin… “they will impound it or, worse, destroy it.”
“We have no weapons,” Duncan said. “The bouncer is unarmed.”
The decision was made for them as the 12.7 mm machine gun in the nose of the helicopter cut loose. The burst hit Lago, the large-caliber bullets knocking his body to the ground and then, in a grotesque dance, pushing it along the dirt, shredding flesh and bone.
“Nephew!” Mualama headed toward the body, when Duncan grabbed his arm. “He’s dead! With me!” She pulled him toward the coffin.
Mualama rolled into the coffin, Duncan on top of him. She pulled shut the lid… just in time, as the metal reverberated with the impact of the bullets.
The copilot of the Hind armed both outer Spiral antitank missiles. He received a lock-on confirmation from his sight on the grounded bouncer.
“Firing one,” he announced. Immediately he hit the missile fire lever again. “Firing two.”
As both missiles streaked toward their target, the pilot fired another burst from the nose-mounted machine gun at the long black pod.
Hanging on to the door frame between the pilots, Balele watched both missiles impact on the alien craft. A cloud of dirt and debris obscured the target area.
“Land us next to that black thing,” Balele ordered. “We will…” He paused as something blinded him. He blinked, and in that time period the unscathed bouncer had halved the distance between the two craft.
“Evade!” was all Balele had time to scream before the forward edge of the saucer-shaped craft sliced into the front windshield of the Hind. The chopper’s blades splintered off as they hit the alien metal, and in less than a second the helicopter was cut in half, both parts falling like so much deadweight the three hundred feet to the ground.
Duncan heard the explosions, then seconds later the sound of something heavy hitting the ground nearby and secondary explosions. She felt Mualama below her, the top of the coffin pressing against her back, her eyes seeing nothing but absolute darkness.
“Is there a way to open this from the inside?” she asked.
“I’ve never been inside before,” Mualama replied in a subdued voice, “so I regret to inform you that I do not know.”
Duncan reached around Mualama, feeling the bottom of the coffin. She arched her back, pressing against the top, but the metal was unyielding. “This is not good.”
“It is better than what happened to my nephew,” Mualama said sharply.
The sudden release of pressure on her back was not as surprising as the sunlight that momentarily blinded Duncan. She rolled on her side and blinked.
“Ma’am, I think we’d better get the heck out of here.” Major Lewis held the lid up and offered her a hand.
Duncan climbed out of the coffin, noting the burning wreckage of the helicopter and the unmarked bouncer.
She stepped aside as Mualama pulled himself out. The tall African straightened and then gave a slight hiss of pain and doubled over.
“What’s wrong?” Duncan asked.
Mualama pointed toward his back.
“Oh, God,” Duncan muttered as she saw the piece of white bone sticking out of his back.
“It’s not mine,” Mualama said. He nodded his head toward the now-crushed skeleton in the coffin. “I felt it go in when we jumped in.”
“And you didn’t say anything?” Duncan felt around the edges of the six-inch sliver that protruded. She couldn’t tell how deep the bone went in.
“Pull it out,” Mualama said.
“We can get you… ”
“Ma’am.” Major Lewis was scanning the crater walls. “Those guys in the choppers might have friends who are coming this way.”
Duncan wrapped her hands around the bone and gave one quick, firm pull. The bone slid out, and the only indication of pain Mualama gave was a sharp inhale of breath. She tossed the bone into the coffin and pushed the lid down. When she turned back, Mualama was kneeling over Lago’s body.
“Get this and the stone rigged with the cargo netting,” Duncan ordered Lewis. “Use the straps he already has around both.”
Lewis nodded and turned to the bouncer. Using hand and arm signals, he got his copilot to lift and come to a hover over the objects.
While Lewis was doing that, Duncan walked over to Mualama. She could see the blood still oozing from his wound, but she knelt next to him. She could hear him speaking in a low voice, the words rhythmic and in a language she had to listen to for a few seconds before recognizing it as Arabic.
Mualama pulled a cloth over the dead man’s face and slowly stood. “Why is it always the young who die?”
Duncan felt the pressure of time. If someone knew she had come here and tried to ambush them, there was no time to be wasted here. Mualama didn’t appear ready to talk, and the coffin wasn’t what she had hoped for when coming here. “We’re ready to go,” Lewis informed them.
“Come on.” Duncan took Mualama’s arm.
Mualama pulled his arm out of her grip. “How did they know we were here? No one knew Lago and I were, of that I am certain.”
“There are spies everywhere,” Duncan said. “We’ll sort this out elsewhere.”
“Why should I trust you?” Mualama argued.
Duncan spread her hands helplessly. “I can’t tell you to trust me. But to be blunt, I don’t think you have much choice.” She nodded her head toward the burning wreckage of the helicopter. “There will be more like that coming. I don’t think you can outrun them in your Rover. And we do have some of Nabinger’s notes.” She turned for the bouncer and looked over her shoulder. “Your choice.” Mualama reluctantly followed.
CHAPTER 13
“Admiral!” The remote pilot’s voice echoed through the communication shack on board the USS George Washington. A storm was raging outside, with little sign of abating.
Admiral Poldan hurried over. “What is it?”
“I’ve got contact with Global Hawk. It’s just cleared the shield.”
“Global Hawk? I thought it was down. Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
The admiral frowned. “What the hell’s it been doing? It’s nine hours overdue!”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Wouldn’t it be out of fuel if it had been in the air all this time?” Poldan asked.
“It would be close, sir, but it might be able to stay up this long. It was built for long endurance flights.” The pilot was throwing switches. “My contact is weak with the computer. She seems damaged. It’s barely moving fast enough to stay airborne.” He looked over his shoulder at the admiral. “I recommend we bring her on board. I don’t think it can make it back to the mainland. Plus we can download whatever data her imagers picked up.”
“You can land it on the flight deck?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do it.”
The pilot returned his attention to his controls. “I’ve got it.” His hands delicately played with the joystick. “I’m bringing her in.”
“I’ll be in flight observation,” Poldan said.
The admiral went out the hatch, then climbed up to the observation deck, where the flight operations officer was in command. The rain had lessened slightly, and Poldan could see the entire flight deck but little beyond it.