Blaze of Glory (18 page)

Lucky
as
hell,
she
thought
right
up
to
the
minute
a
door
opened
up
into
the
corridor
at
three
freaking
o’clock in
the
morning.

Two
people
walked
out
into
the
hall.

Everything
went
totally
still
for
one
extended
second
before
the
Delta
Boys
gagged
their
latest
two
“guests.” They
were
immediately
dropped
to
the
ground
and
secured
in
the
same
manner,
gags,
cuffs.

They
would
have
been
mighty
fortunate
to
make
it
back
to
the
meeting
point
with
all
the
more
bodies
to manage.
One
false
move
from
the
extra
people
could
draw
fire
from
the
reputably
good
security
in
this place.

So
much
for
luck.

BOBBY
FLEWthe
CV22
in
seemingly
random
patterns
out
over
the
boonies
waiting
for
the
team
to
report up.

His
mind
was
so
firmly
on
Gracie
he
didn’t
even
toy
around
with
some
of
his
usual
boundarypushing maneuvers
to
test
out
the
craft.
With
the
terrainfollowing
system
on
automatic,
the
pilots
only
had
to
monitor the
radar
terrain
trace
in
front
of
the
aircraft.
They
had
to
make
sure
the
aircraft
climbed
appropriately
to
get over
the
hills
and
ridges
in
the
area.

But
all
he
could
think
about
was
Gracie.

The
fear
of
not
ever
seeing
her
trek
out
of
that
jungle
rocked
him
so
hard
he
actually
stopped
moving
for about
half
a
minute.
He
hadn’t
been
that
still
for
that
long
since
getting
his
clock
rung
in
a
bar
fight.

The
sensation
was
pretty
much
the
same,
and
that
scared
him
shitless
and
unmoving
for
another
thirty seconds.
When
had
this
woman
become
so
important
to
him?

Job.
Think
of
the
job.
Watch
the
terrain.
Things
could
go
to
hell
in
a
heartbeat
and
he
would
need
to
take control
and
climb
over
the
hills
and
mountains
themselves.
Gracie
damn
well
wouldnot
die
because
he’d fucked
up
and
not
made
it
back
to
get
her.

In
theory,
neither
pilot
should
ever
have
to
override
the
system.
It
would
hold
the
aircraft
right
on
the
set altitude,
in
this
case
two
hundred
feet
above
ground
level,
until
they
turned
it
off.
The
team
on
the
ground was
supposed
to
be
picked
up
before
they
required
refueling,
but
just
in
case
they
had
an
MC130P
Combat Shadow
capable
of
passing
them
gas
on
call.

Like
now.Damn
it,
Gracie,
either
get
out
here
now
or
hold
off
for
another
ten
minutes.

“Face,
we
need
to
get
some
gas
if
they
don’t
report
up
in
the
next
five
minutes,”
Bobby
snapped,
strung tight.
Come
on,
Gracie,
damn
it.

“Yeah,
I
was
looking
at
that
and
hoping
to
avoid
it.”
Since
that
would
be
a
really
crappy
time
for
the
team, Gracie
and
“guests”
to
come
out
into
the
clearing.
“Get
them
on
the
radio
and
have
them
head
to
the
airrefueling
initial
point.”
Bobby
changed
from
interphone
to
UHF
radio
number
two
and
keyed
it
up.

“Shadow
fourfive,
Hornet
onefive.”

A
voice
answered
him
immediately.
“Hornet,
Shadow,
loud
and
clear.”

“Shadow,
we
will
be
at
the
refueling
point
at
zerothreeonefive
local,
can
you
accommodate
that?”

“We
have
two
navigators
and
one
of
them
is
so
old
he
learned
his
craft
from
Magellan.
I
think
we
can
be
on time.”

“Magellan?”
Bobby
chuckled.
“Those
whacky
National
Guard
guys.
Face,
give
me
a
climb
to
seven hundred
feet
and
come
left
to
a
heading
of
oneonefive.
That
will
set
us
up
for
a
little
dog
leg
to
get
on track.
Crew,
we
gotta
get
some
fuel
so
get
ready
to
meet
the
tanker.
If
anyone
is
cooking
on
a
hibachi
back there
I
would
appreciate
it
if
you
put
it
out
until
we
finish.” As
they
approached
the
tanker,
Bobby
finished
the
air
refueling
checklist
and
prepared
the
gas
tanks
to accept
and
distribute
the
gas
while
maintaining
the
correct
center
of
gravity.

“Cleared
to
contact,
Face.”

Face
drove
the
refueling
probe
into
the
basket
hanging
behind
the
MC130
and
got
a
green
engage
light
on the
overhead
panel.

“Taking
gas,”
Bobby
reported.

Face
held
position
behind
the
tanker
until
Bobby
said,
“Three
thousand
pounds
taken,
cleared
to disconnect.”

Face
disengaged
the
toggles
holding
the
two
aircraft
together
and
backed
away.
“Thanks,
Shadow.
How much
play
time
do
you
have
left?”

“Shadow
has
five
hours
left,
Hornet.
We’re
heading
back
to
our
orbit.
Let
us
know
if
you
need
us
again.”

“Roger
that,
Shadow.
Thanks.”

“Hornet,
Snake
needs
a
ride
if
you
can
accommodate.”
Bobby
sighed
in
relief
as
the
call
came
over
the
radio signaling
that
the
ground
team
was
ready
to
be
picked
up.
“Roger
that,
Snake.
Are
you
out
clean?”

“That’s
affirm,
Hornet.
We
have
cleared
the
area
and
we
are
not
being
followed.
Primary
pickup
point
in nine
minutes.”

“Copy
that,
Snake.
Face,
come
to
heading
threethreezero.
Your
heading
marker
is
to
the
pickup
point.

Looks
like
we
are
about
four
minutes
early,
so
let’s
take
a
threesixty
to
the
left.” Face
started
a
slow
turn
to
the
left
and
continued
turning
until
he
was
back
on
a
heading
to
the
pickup.

“How’s
that?”

“Pretty
close,
Face
man.
Slow
down
about
fifteen
knots
and
we
will
be
right
on
time.” He
had
to
be.

Bobby
guided
the
craft
toward
the
pickup
point,
scanning
for
threats
and
finding
none.
He
pulled
the airplane
into
a
tight
turn
to
align
on
a
dirt
road
while
slowing
and
transitioning
the
rotors
on
the
wings
to helicopter
mode.
He
settled
down
onto
the
road
just
as
the
rear
gunner
identified
the
team
coming
out
of
the jungle.
“I
got
them
coming
from
the
rear.”

He
counted,
still
not
to
twelve
and
still
not
seeing
Gracie.
They
would
have
called
in
an
emergency,
right?

She
had
to
fucking
be
there.
His
stomach
lining
snacked
on
itself
until
he
counted
twelve…and
more…too many
more.

Face
angled
forward.
“Looks
like
they
picked
up
four
new
friends
while
they
were
out.” Four?
What
the
hell?
Questions
later.
At
least
they
were
out.

The
team
filed
up
the
rear
ramp
guiding
four
restrained
prisoners
into
seats
against
the
outer
wall.
They quickly
belted
them
in
as
Bobby
guided
the
aircraft
up
and
out
into
the
night.
He
took
a
precious
second
to look
back
and
doublecheck…yes,
Gracie.
He
couldn’t
afford
to
let
relief
stun
him,
but
the
explosion
of emotion
damn
near
blinded
him.

He
turned
forward
just
as
his
radio
cued
up
with
a
new
voice.

“Hornet,
you
have
a
bogey
at
your
one
o’clock
for
ten
miles,”
called
the
radio
voice,
a
woman
with
a
heavy Jersey
accent.
“Appears
to
be
a
helicopter,
five
hundred
feet
moving
towards
you
at
a
hundred
twenty knots.”

“Who
the
hell
was
that,
Face?”
Bobby
asked.
Crap,
could
this
go
any
worse?
Wait.
Undoubtedly
it
could.
If ever
he
needed
to
tap
his
boundarypushing
ways,
this
was
it.
He
also
noticed
the
seasoned
instructor,
Face, never
once
suggested
taking
over,
so
he
must
be
hanging
in
there
tight,
fast
and
efficient.

Wiser,
more
experienced,
Face
shook
his
head,
smile
wry.
“That,
my
friend,
is
the
voice
of
God.”

“What
do
you
mean
the
voice
of
God?”
And
God
was
a
female
from
Jersey?
This
wasn’t
a
time
for bullshitting.

“That’s
someone
who
does
not
want
to
be
identified,
or
she
would
have
led
off
with
a
call
sign.
Probably spooks
of
some
sort
or
some
sort
of
intelligencecollecting
platform.
Let’s
accept
the
blessing
and
turn
fortyfive
right,
see
if
the
bogey
turns
with
us.
Chief,
please
get
everyone
in
the
back
strapped
in.
We
may
have company
here
in
a
few
minutes.”

The
voice
chimed
in
again.
“Hornet,
the
bogey’s
turned
to
intercept
you.
Now
at
your
three
o’clock
for
six miles.”

Bobby
gripped
the
stick
and
adjusted.
“She
is
a
helpful
little
voice,
isn’t
she?”
Could
this
be
a
trap?
They had
very
little
evidence
to
go
on.
Only
two
choices
and
one
would
get
them
killed.
Sometimes
it
all
came down
to
instincts.
And
his
gut
told
him
that
today,
God
was
a
female
from
Jersey.
“Gunners,
we
have
a bogey
at
three
o’clock,
six
miles.
He
is
tracking
us
somehow.
All
I
have
on
the
electronic
warfare
panel
is some
plain
old
airtraffic
control.
Suggest
we
drop
down
and
see
if
we
can
shake
those
radars.” Face
entered
a
hundred
feet
into
the
terrain
following
and
turned
farther
away
from
the
helicopter
and
waited for
an
update
from
their
ghostly
friend.

“Hornet,
you
have
another
bogey
at
your
twelve
for
three
miles
hovering
just
on
the
other
side
of
a
ridge.

Looks
like
they
are
driving
you
into
an
ambush
cap.”

“What
the
hell
is
happening
here?
Face,
if
my
mapreading
skills
are
as
good
as
I
think
they
are,
then
we
are going
to
have
to
mess
with
one
of
these
bogeys
or
fly
over
an
international
border.”
He
turned
to
his
pal,
a pilot
he’d
flown
with
nearly
his
whole
career.
They’d
pulled
each
other
out
of
the
fire
more
times
than
he could
count.

Bobby
couldn’t
help
but
think
of
the
time
they’d
almost
gone
down
in
Iraq
with
a
woman
in
back,
a
woman Face
had
feelings
for.
Bobby
had
known
that
had
to
be
tough,
but
he
hadn’t
had
a
damn
clue
how
hellish until
now.
“Talk
to
me,
my
friend.
What’s
your
take?”

“Damn,
Postal.”
Voice
steady,
Face’s
confidence
shone
even
through
the
eerie
green
haze
of
NVGs.

“You’re
going
to
do
what
you
do
best.
Stoke
up
this
baby
and
drive
right
past
that
one
over
the
ridge.
We have
at
least
one
hundred,
maybe
a
hundred
and
fifty
knots
of
speed
on
any
traditional
helicopter.” Great.
A
chance
to
justify
all
his
crazyass
antics
in
the
aircraft.
The
payoff
would
be
here.
Now.

“What
if
it
has
some
sort
of
heat
seeker
onboard,
like
a
Stinger?”
Hell,
he
already
knew
the
answer.

“Gunners,
ready
up.
When
we
go
over
this
ridge,
there
is
going
to
be
a
helicopter
waiting
on
the
other
side.

There
aren’t
any
friendlies
out
there,
so
if
it
points
at
us,
shred
it.” Three
wilcos—will
comply—came
over
the
interphone.

The
CV22
crested
the
ridge
and
everyone
wearing
nightvision
goggles
tried
to
find
the
problem
on
the other
side.
The
bad
guy
was
savvy
and
knew
the
area
better
than
they
did.
The
enemy
helicopter
was
a
Bell Jet
Ranger,
rigged
up
with
some
sort
of
machine
guns.

The
whole
explosive
encounter
reeked
of
an
ambush.

The
Jet
Ranger
fired
first,
but
the
flash
of
his
guns
gave
him
away
as
huge
blooms
filled
Bobby’s
goggles.

Padre
and
Sandman
both
swiveled
their
miniguns
and
fired
at
the
flashes.
It
was
a
matter
of
whose
aim
was better.

Here,
Bobby
firmly
placed
odds
on
his
crew.

Rat,
tat,
tatlike
hail
on
a
car
roof,
the
echoing
sound
filled
the
ears
of
all
on
board.
The
enemy
guns
had made
their
hit.

But
so
had
the
CV22’s
miniguns.

A
huge
flash
filled
the
sky
where
the
tracers
from
the
rear
and
left
gunners
intersected,
and
as
suddenly
as the
hail
began,
it
stopped.
Silence
mixed
with
the
cordite
of
the
minigun
rounds
for
three
heartbeats
before Bobby
broke
the
spell.
The
fight
was
over.
They
were
still
in
the
air,
unlike
the
enemy,
but
at
what
cost?

“Check
in,
all,
with
damage
report
and
injuries,”
Bobby
ordered,
not
even
daring
to
think
of
silence
from Gracie.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

MATT
COULD
SAFELY
SAY,after
a
lifetime
of
Bunsen
burners,
he’d
never
envisioned
himself
riding
in the
back
of
a
military
aircraft
gagged
and
in
handcuffs.
What
the
hell
was
going
on?
And
why
was
his daughter
in
the
middle
of
it?

At
least
now
that
they
were
airborne,
the
soldiers
began
loosening
the
gags
on
the
others,
while
Gracie
freed him.
Never
once
did
her
eyes
leave
his.
He
knew
the
look
well.
She
was
checking
his
state
of
mind.

Damn.

He
knew
he
had
to
live
with
this
disease,
but
he
hated
those
times
it
made
the
child
become
the
parent.
He did
his
best
to
meet
her
gaze
directly,
calmly,
and
reassure
her
that
for
now,
today,
all
was
well
inside
his head,
even
if
the
outside
world
was
in
total
chaos.

Once
his
arms
were
free,
he
pulled
his
daughter
in
for
a
hug.
His
heart
did
that
inexplicable
flipflop
thing that
never
ceased
to
astound
him
whenever
he
held
his
child.
No
science
could
explain
it.
But
the
first
time he
held
her
squirmy,
slimy
newborn
body,
his
heart
had
done
that
same
flipflop.

Grace
Marie
could
be
six
or
twentysix
and
it
wouldn’t
matter.
She
was
his
miracle
baby
girl.
Damn,
he
was proud
of
her.

The
heart
action
made
him
remember
somebody
else
who
tugged
at
the
edges
of
his
emotions.
Over
his daughter’s
shoulder,
Matt
looked
down
the
length
of
the
craft
and
saw
that
yes,
Felicia
was
unharmed.
He would
have
to
wait
to
speak
with
her
though,
because
it
seemed
these
uniformed
fellas
had
very
strong feelings
about
everyone
staying
seated.

Including
the
student
Jiang
Lee
and
the
security
worker
Rurik
Zazlov.
What
rotten
timing
for
the
two
of them
to
decide
to
end
their
latenight
rendezvous
with
a
walk
outside
for
snacks
or
whatever
they’d
been doing
in
the
hall
that
late.
Not
that
his
and
Felicia’s
midnight
stroll
followed
by
a
stop
into
her
room
had ended
as
expected,
either.

“Daddy,
are
you
okay?”

No
child
should
have
to
be
that
worried
about
the
parent.
It
defied
the
natural
order
of
things.
“Other
than being
confused
as
hell
as
to
why
we
left
the
compound,
yeah,
I’m
fine.
What’s
going
on?” Her
eyes
shone
with
tears
and
a
hint
of
anger.
“You
haven’t
called
or
emailed
in
over
six
weeks.
I
was worried.”

“And
that
leads
you
to
do
this?”

Gracie
couldn’t
have
possibly
set
up
something
of
this
level
simply
to
lift
him
out.
What
explanation
did
that leave?

“Obviously
I
couldn’t
arrange
this
magnitude
of
help
to
get
you
out.
But
when
I
heard
things
were
going squirrelly
inside
that
compound,
I
wasnot
leaving
you
in
there.
I
simply
did
my
best
to
wrangle
my
unit
into the
operation.”

“You
never
thought
to
call?”
He
could
tell
her
nerves
were
stretched,
because
she
always
chewed
her
nails when
edgy,
except
he
couldn’t
guess
her
motive.
But
then,
reading
people
had
never
been
his
forte.
He usually
relied
on
her
instincts
where
people
were
concerned.
Even
at
ten,
she’d
been
able
to
read
a
person’s intent
in
a
heartbeat.

“No
calls
were
being
accepted.”

Odd.
“I’m
sorry
you
were
concerned.”

“At
least
you’re
out
of
there.”

“I
didn’t
particularly
want
out.”
His
work
had
value.
He
couldn’t
take
credit
for
his
brain.
His
IQ
could
be considered
much
like
a
lottery
win,
but
he
felt
an
obligation
to
make
the
most
of
this
strange
gift
he’d
been born
with.

“The
place
is
a
political
snake’s
nest,
Daddy.
We
had
to
get
you
out
for
your
own
safety.” His
gaze
slid
down
to
Felicia
again,
Jiang
and
Rurik,
too.
“What
about
the
safety
of
everyone
else
in
there?”

“That
will
be
Cantou’s
issue.”
Her
attention
shifted
to
the
rear
of
the
plane
where
the
couple—
Jiang
and Rurik—were
huddled
together.
“It’s
better
if
we
discuss
more
later.”