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Authors: William Casey Moreton

72 Hours (A Thriller) (26 page)

BOOK: 72 Hours (A Thriller)
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Archer felt a drop of rain land on the back of his neck.
 
He turned his head toward the sky.
 
A second touched high on his cheekbone.
 
He brushed it away with the cool steel of the Beretta.
 
Thunder rolled off the mountains like cannon fire and swept down through the desert floor.
 
An electrical storm was brewing high overhead.
 

Archer turned his face up and opened his mouth.
 
Fat drops pooled on his tongue.
 
His throat ached from the dust.
 
Then he wiped his face with his forearm and began moving again.
 
He loved fighting in the rain.
 

There were several entrances to the underground bunker, but Archer wasn’t interesting in getting in.
 
He was more concerned at the moment with keeping the enemy out.
 
He traced a line in his memory.
 
The tunnel to the north was only about half the length of the tunnel that led into the mountains.
 
He expected to find the northern tunnel capped with an iron grate similar to the other.
 
But he didn’t make it that far.
 

Archer looked down between his feet and saw tracks running in the opposite direction.
 
Boot prints.
 
Infantry-style boots with deep tread pressed into the mud.
 
Archer squatted and traced his hand along the inside rim of one of the prints.
 
He pivoted, dropping a knee to the ground.
 
Rain dribbled on his shoulders.

He gazed ahead.
 
The tracks continued on into the darkness.
 
Long strides.
 
Four-foot gaps between prints.
 
Tracks stamped into the mud by some seriously long legs.
 
Evidence of a big man.

Archer frowned as he whisked rainwater from his eyes.
 

The boot prints were being slowly filled by the storm.
 
The path of the tracks angled in from the northeast.
 
Archer rose, straddling the size twelve impressions.
 
He held the Beretta in a two-handed grip and eased forward like a hunter, as if he were stalking an animal, only this animal could shoot back.

CHAPTER 82

Echo lifted the night-vision goggles and settled them up on his brow.
 
He stared at the GPS unit in his hand.
 
Then he squinted against the rain and peered through the gloom, studying the landscape through the darkness.
 
He glanced back at the computer readout on the GPS display.

Echo shook his head.
 
It didn’t make sense.
 
The coordinates were correct but there was nothing there.
 
Mr. Jupiter had given them the coordinates for the precise location of Lindsay Hammond, but there was nothing to be seen but sand and rocks and brush for miles in any direction.
 
No buildings.
 
No structures of any kind.
 
Nothing.

Echo spoke into his radio mike.

“Echo to team lead,” he said in his husky baritone.

“Go ahead, Echo,” Alpha replied.

“Something’s wrong.
 
There’s nothing here.”

“Have you verified your coordinates?”

“Affirmative.
 
My coordinates are dead on.
 
I’m telling you, she is supposed to be right where I’m standing.
 
But there’s nothing here.
 
Nowhere for her to hide.”

“The weather is probably interfering with the GPS satellite.”

“What if they’ve moved her into the mountains?
 
Somebody up there was shooting at me.”
     

“That’s possible.
 
Or they might be underground.
 
You’re possibly standing right on top of them.”

“Agreed,” answered Bravo, creeping unseen along the opposite ridge.
 
“Look for an entrance of some kind.
 
An exposed door or air vent.”

Echo snapped the night-vision goggles down over his eyes.
 
The world turned green again.
 
He glanced again at the readout on the GPS.
 
It was the last thing he ever did.

Echo felt nothing.
 
His world blurred to a supernova of blackness.
 
The bullet entered the back of his skull and exited through the shallow cavity between his eye sockets, taking a percentage of his face with it.
 
Blood and brains and bone fragments sprayed out into the rain.
 
Echo did not make a sound.
 
Never knew what happened.
 
His knees quivered slightly.
 
He died instantly.
 
The force of the blast twisted his upper body a quarter turn and he simply fell crashing down onto his side, his equipment clattering as he hit the ground.

The muzzle of Archer’s Beretta had been half an inch from Echo’s head when he pulled the trigger.
 
Archer squatted next to the body.
 
Leaned over.
 
Rolled him onto his back.
 
Most of the face was gone.
 
Pieces of bone from the nose and teeth jutted out through the flesh of the closed mouth.

Archer pulled the assault rifle loose from the body.
 
It was an XM8.
 
Serious hardware.
 
Very modern and expensive.
 
These guys were well financed and that was not a good sign.

Next, he stripped him of his radio.
 
A good Motorola.
 
Stuffed it down inside a cargo pocket on the thigh of his pants.
 
He looked forward to eavesdropping in on some interesting future conversations.
 
It would give him a significant tactical advantage.
   

Archer picked the body clean of anything else useful.
 
He pulled an Omega Seamaster watch from his wrist and strapped it around his own.
 
He pulled several grenades from the jumper’s belt and looked for ID but found none.
 
Then he dragged the body out of sight.

One down, nine to go.

*
   
*
   
*

They heard the shot.
 
The sharp report cascaded between the folds in the ridges, reaching them merely seconds after the communication with Echo had ended.
 

Bravo and Foxtrot were shoulder to shoulder, traversing a thirty-degree pitch across the hillside.
 
Foxtrot put his arm out, halting his partner.
 

“Team?” Bravo said.
 
“Report in.”

The members of the team reported in as directed, one at a time.
 
Everyone accounted for.
 
Everyone but Echo.

“Echo, do you copy?”

Nothing.

“Echo, what is your status?”

No reply.

*
   
*
   
*

When the crack of the gunshot reached Raj, he jerked his head up.
 

“Archer?”

“Relax.
 
I had to clean up after you,” Archer said.

Raj closed his eyes and let out a breath.

“That one won’t be bothering us any more,” Archer added.

“Good to know.
 
Find any ID?”

“Negative, but he was carrying some serious firepower.
 
Gas-operated assault rifle.
 
Grenades.”

“That’s bad news.
 
There are nine more of his friends still out there to deal with.”

“Find yourself a good high position where you can see as much of a three-sixty view as possible, then sit tight and watch for them.
 
Feed me all the info you can.
 
We’ve got to keep them pushed away from the bunker.
 
Let me know when you get settled in.”

Raj nodded.
 
“Affirmative.”

“Be careful out there.”

“Goes without saying.”

“Let’s do this like the good old days.”

“Rock on, brother,” Raj said.

CHAPTER 83

Archer moved quickly through the lashing rain.
 
Lightening smashed across the sky in sheets.
 
Thunderclaps rolled and banged.
 
He ran across the uneven desert terrain in long strides.

The key would be to keep moving.
 
Take them out one at a time.
 
Quick and efficient, and as silent as possible.
 
Basic jungle guerrilla warfare.
 

Archer was breathing hard by the time he reached the metal panel doors that stood out from the desert floor.
 
Rainwater slewed down the dirt-crusted metal surface.
 
He probed the seam between the door panels with the fingers of both hands, and attempted to pry them open.
 
No go.
 
They were solid, held in place by the stout pneumatic arms.
 
They wouldn’t budge.

He spoke into his walkie, “Simeon, pick up.”

“I’m right here.”

“Open the outside doors, brother.
 
Let me in.”

“OK, no problem.”

Archer glanced at the Omega watch on his wrist.
 
Rain drops beaded on the glass.
 
It took Simeon about forty-five seconds to manually hit the switch.
 
The hinges groaned slightly as the panel doors pushed open.
 
Archer squeezed sideways through the widening gap.
 
He sprinted down the long ramp and down the length of the sloping tunnel, passing through the slim red beam of the laser eye which triggered the doors to close behind him.
 
As they folded back over the opening, the roar of the rainstorm was eventually drowned out to the distant background.

Canned lighting splashed before him as he rushed through the narrow passages toward the residential quarters.
 
Simeon was waiting for him.

Archer cut a glance around the room.

“Where are they?
 
Lindsay and the kids?”

“I put them below.”

Archer nodded.

“The situation outside is not exactly ideal.
 
I could use one more shooter out there.
 
Grab your rifle.”

Archer clambered down the flight of metal stairs and poked his head into the glow of the pulsing orange light.
 
The kids were sitting quietly in a corner of the room away from the door.
 
Lindsay was pacing.
 
She was clearly relieved and comforted to see him.

“Oh…you’re safe,” she said.

“I’m going back out,” he said.

“What?
 
No!”

“I’m taking Simeon with me.”

Lindsay stared up at him in disbelief.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Archer, please!
 
Please stay,” she called after him, reaching out to touch his arm.

But he was already gone.

CHAPTER 84

Rain was flooding in through the iron grate at the end of the west tunnel.
 
It fell the hundred or so feet down the shaft and splashed in a torrent onto the concrete landing.
 
They had to step into the middle of the downpour to reach the ladder bolted to the wall.

Archer led the way, ascending first.
 
Simeon followed close behind.
 
The water gushed down over the top of them.
 
A river of rain and sand and mud.
 
It was slow going.
 
The rungs of the ladder were impossibly slick.
 
The constant rush of water made it difficult to breathe.

Archer reached the iron grate, spillage gushing through the elongated grooves.
 
He stood with both hands gripping tight to the top rung of the ladder.
 
He put his shoulder into the grate and gritted his teeth as he pushed it against the deluge.
 
He hoisted himself up, twisting around into an upright sitting position at the edge of the hatch.
 
He grunted and strained as he lifted his friend up and out.
 
They moved clear of the hatch opening, panting for air, coughing.

Lightening flashed in the sky above the mountains.

Archer placed a hand on Simeon’s shoulder.

“Talk to Raj.
 
He should be fairly close,” Archer said.
 
“Find out his position.
 
The two of you work together and coordinate your efforts.
 
I need you to stand sentinel.
 
Keep the mercenaries in the mountains.
 
Give me time to work on them.
 
Don’t let them get on the other side of you.
 
If we allow them to get down inside there, it’ll open a whole new world of problems for us.”

BOOK: 72 Hours (A Thriller)
4.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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