Echo Six: Black Ops 6 - Battle for Beirut (26 page)

Armed with that thought, he floored the pedal, and the eight-wheeled monster surged forward. The missileer stood up once more, his launcher loaded with a fresh missile. The roaring, Russian built behemoth stormed down on the cluster of Arabs. The machine gunner and his loader looked startled and began to run. But the man with the launcher was made of sterner stuff, and he stood his ground, aiming his weapon on the charging APC.

He launched, and everything disappeared in a cloud of smoke as the missile fired. The APC rose in the air, the rocket detonating on the forward part of the hull. But the explosion came from behind despite the frontal shot, and even as he was thrown out of the driving seat and tossed around the cabin, he knew how it had happened. Because they were so close, the rocket had impacted on the heavily sloped armor on the front of the BTR80 and continued flying underneath the hull until it reached the rear, before it exploded under the engine compartment.

The big diesel engine took the brunt of the impact, instead of killing him and Drew in the blast. The vehicle was already on fire, as spilled diesel from the wrecked fuel lines started to blaze. He grabbed Jackson, kicked open the side hatch, and with one hand dragged him outside. Guy's team arrived and started to help them get clear. They laid the unconscious trooper on the stone floor, and Talley knelt down to tend his wounds. He was covered in blood, but most was from the gash on his head. His vest had stopped the ricochets from penetrating his body, and as he watched, Drew's eyes opened.

"Where am I? Shit, I thought I was finished."

"Take it easy, Drew. We'll be getting you out of here soon."

"That's good. Did you find her?"

Nava.

"Not yet, no."

He looked up at Guy. "It's almost dark. The Twin Otter, they'll be ready to pick us up soon."

The Brit grinned. "I sent most of the men out there to get into position. They should be there by now. We need to get out, can you walk?"

"Sure, but Drew's not so good."

He nodded and turned to Buchmann who was talking to the Arab girl, the maid.

"Heinrich, get another man to lend a hand, and help Drew out to the end of the runway."

"At once, Ja. I want Sumaiyah to come out with us."

"Sumaiyah?"

"The Arab girl who told us about al Saif's yacht. She's certain they'll discover she told us about the boat, and if we leave her here, they'll kill her. I bet she could help us with al Saif when we catch up with him."

Guy shook his head. "It's not possible, Heinrich. The aircraft will be overloaded as it is."

"I'm not leaving her behind," the German said, his face stubborn.

Talley watched the interchange with fascination. It was obvious that Buchmann had appointed himself her protector.

Love at first sight for the racist German? An Arab girl! Now I've seen everything.

But he the way he felt about Nava, and so took Guy to one side.

"It's your decision, but Buchmann's obviously worked up about her. She can't weigh more than a few cans of beans. We can take her. And she could be useful when we hit al Saif's yacht."

"If she was telling the truth."

He waited, and finally the Brit nodded to Buchmann. "Okay, she can come with us, but if the wheels don't come off the tarmac, she goes straight out the door."

The German's face split into a smile. "Of course, Ja. She will be fine. The aircraft will take off."

Guy raised his eyebrows. "God help us all if it doesn't. Let's move out."

* * *

They lay in the dunes, watching the edge of the tarmac only a few meters in front of them. The Twin Otter was almost two kilometers from their position, at the other end of the runway. Zaki had started the engines and taxied out to the runway. The Apache gunship was on the ground, near the control tower, waiting and watching. They'd have sophisticated night vision gear.

The aircraft began its take off roll and picked up speed, as the two Pratt and Whitney turboprops roared at full power. The Twin Otter had STOL capability, short takeoff and land, and should have been airborne inside of four hundred meters. Instead, it kept racing along the tarmac at high speed. Closer, closer, until the pilot chopped the throttles, and the plane came to a halt.

They waited, knowing he would be talking to the control tower, claiming a malfunction. Then the cargo door opened, and Goldstein emerged, waving to them. They jumped to their feet, and hidden from the watchful Apache gunship, ran onto the tarmac across to the door and inside the fuselage. Inside of a minute, they were crammed inside, and Goldstein slammed shut the door.

"We should be okay. Zaki radioed he had a warning light come on and wanted to stop to check it out. He told them he's going to make a second attempt at take off, as soon as he's satisfied there's not a major problem."

As he spoke, the engines increased power. Zaki let off the brakes and taxied in a full circle, back to the start position close to the gunship. Talley was squeezed next to a tiny window under the starboard wing, and he watched it come near. The missile pylons on each wing were empty, but he couldn’t miss the squat, deadly chain gun in the nose. If the gunner saw anything wrong, he could bring the weapon to bear and spew out high explosive 30mm cannon shells, more than six hundred a minute. Enough to turn them into pieces of scrap metal and shreds of human flesh.

The aircraft turned as they reached the end of the runway. Zaki didn’t wait for anything, just gunned the engines up to maximum power and began the take off roll. Because of the extra weight, he needed almost the whole of the two-kilometer long strip to get into the air. After several tense, nail-biting moments, they all felt the lift as the wheels came unstuck. They were airborne.

“We made it,” someone shouted inside the packed cabin.

No one replied. Those who could see out were staring down at the AH-64. So far, it hadn’t moved, and the rotor blades were still, but that could change in a second if they grew suspicious. And that long take off run could be enough to make an experienced aircraft commander very suspicious.

The ground dropped away as the de Havilland climbed, slowly, very slowly. They reached three thousand feet, and Goldstein appeared at the cockpit door to shout the good news.

“There’s nothing on the radio, no requests for identification, or a recall to the airfield. I think we’ve…”

“Hold it.” It was Rovere. He was staring down from the port window as the aircraft banked away from Arar, “The rotors are turning. She’s started engines.”

Talley looked out and could just see the Apache out of the corner of the window. The rotor blades were indeed turning. Somehow, perhaps because of the long take off roll, or because of the way the aircraft handled, they'd smelled a rat. They were coming for them.

In the moment of despair, the Italian couldn’t resist resorting to Shakespeare. “Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of York; and all the clouds that lowered upon our house, in the deep bosom of the ocean buried.”

Does he never give up?

“You’ll be the first one buried,” someone growled at him, “That’ll shut you up.”

Talley realized it was Buchmann who’d spoken. He was holding tight to the Arab girl, his face showing uncharacteristic concern.

Concern for someone else? It’s a different Heinrich Buchmann, but what has mellowed him? Only one possibility, love.

He looked back to the airfield. The gunship tipped slightly as its wheels left the ground, which meant it was about to give chase. He realized Guy was grinning at him.

“What?”

The Brit kept his voice level. “My spell in command of Echo Six isn’t going to last long, Boss. I reckon it's the shortest promotion in history.”

Talley couldn’t argue with that. Not when an Apache AH-64 was on your tail and you were inside an unarmed, lumbering cargo plane, with no options left.

“You could be right. Now would be a good time to hit the silk, if we had any parachutes. I'm sorry, but I don’t see any way out of this.”

Guy nodded grimly. “No. When he catches up with us, we’re fucked. One hundred percent screwed."

Port of Tyre, Lebanon

She recovered consciousness slowly, and at first she couldn't work out why everything was moving. And then it came to her, as her eyes focused on her surroundings. She was on board a boat, and from the sounds outside, she understood the vessel was still in the harbor. Men were shouting orders, vehicles came and went, and she could hear footsteps running along the stone quay outside the porthole above the bed. She was still bound by her wrists and ankles, but she worked to try and remove the gag that prevented her from crying out. It was impossible. She was still moving her jaw to slip it from her mouth when the cabin door opened.

It was the cabin attendant from the aircraft. The girl looked down on her, and there was sympathy and concern in her eyes.

"I have to take you to Sheikh al Saif. I'm sorry. He told me your gag must remain in place, but I will do my best to make you as comfortable as possible."

She bent down and undid the straps that held her ankles and wrists, and then helped her to her feet.

"We're going to the dining room. My master plans to enjoy a meal before we leave port."

Nava stared at the girl, and she got the meaning.

"The gag? I'm not allowed to remove it. You won't be able to eat with it on, that's for sure, but I'm sorry; I have to follow his orders."

The girl led her through the ship. It was enormous, almost as large as a cruise ship, and Nava was tempted to try and run.

But where?

She knew she had to make a plan, and carry it out before they realized what she was doing. And before they left port. But this wasn't the time.

They entered a spacious, wood-paneled dining room. Al Saif was sitting at the head of an enormous, polished wood table large enough for twenty diners, and laden with an array of silver cutlery and crystal glasses. Servants were silently placing dishes of food on the table, and the Arab was filling his plate when he caught sight of her.

"Ah, yes, Nava, my new delight. Please, come and join me." He looked at the cabin attendant, "You may seat her next to me, and re-fasten her wrists and ankles to the chair.”

The Arab watched as the girl carried out his orders. Then he dismissed her, and Nava was alone with the obscene Arab. He ignored her for a few minutes while he enjoyed his food. Then he looked up and gazed at her.

"This truly is an excellent meal. A pity you are unable to enjoy it with me. I thought you might like to know about the dessert." He raised his eyebrows and seemed annoyed that Nava looked away from him, staring around the ornate cabin. "It is you, my dear. You are to be the second course."

He lifted a sharp-looking knife from the table. "Every course requires the correct cutlery, is that not so? For you, I imagine I shall use something like this." His expression hardened, "Sharp, hard steel."

She shuddered inwardly, but with a huge effort, held her gaze away from him.

"No? Perhaps you do not believe me. You should, my dear. I carved up my own daughter when the occasion warranted, although I allowed her to live. In your case, you will go the way of my other delights. When you are screaming in agony, begging for release, I shall keep you alive, but only for as long as you satisfy me. Your death will be very hard and very slow."

She already knew how much of a sadist and sociopath the man was. A cowardly piece of Arab scum, who probably couldn't get an erection unless a helpless female was screaming in agony in front of him. Although it was too late for Talley to rescue her, she was able to content herself with a single thought.

No matter what happens, he’ll find this man, and he’ll deal with him.

She would be his last victim, and the Saudi would find out what it was truly like to suffer and die. She only hoped Abe would string it out for as long as possible.

* * *

Zaki pushed the engines to maximum power, unconcerned with gaining height. His only worry was flying as fast as possible, away from the gunship. Talley had fought through the heaving mass of men to reach the cockpit, and they were watching the Apache in the rear mirror. It was directly behind them, about three kilometers away, and getting nearer.

"He's gaining on us," he warned, "but he's still a long way back. What are our chances of out-flying him?"

Zaki considered for a few moments before he gave an answer. "Usually, they'd be pretty good. This baby isn't as fast as the newer Twin Otters, but even so, we have a couple of knots over the helo. As I recall, the maximum speed of an Apache is something over one hundred and fifty knots. We can normally hit about one hundred and sixty."

"Normally?"

He nodded. "Normally. We have a head start, and providing we stay out of range of the chain gun, we should get away. But we're overloaded. It means our speed is reduced by about ten knots, and so he's faster than we are. Only by a fraction, but in time, he'll catch up."

"Any suggestions?"

"Keep flying, and hope that something comes up. You never know; he could have a catastrophic engine or gearbox failure. It's not uncommon in helos. Or we could hit heavy cloud and lose him, although he should be able to pick us up on his tactical radar."

Talley looked ahead. The sky was as clear and blue as he'd ever seen it. No clouds were nearby. Although he could pick out some clouds in the far distance, they were several kilometers up in the sky. He pointed to them. "What about those?"

Zaki grinned. "Again, if everything was equal, we could head up that way. Our surface ceiling is a couple of thousand meters above the Apache. But with a full load, it would take too long to get up there, and I could guarantee he'll catch up before we're halfway."

"Any other ideas?"

"I'm working on them. We're not done for yet."

He struggled back into the cabin and reported what he'd heard to Guy. "That pilot is damn good. If anyone can keep us away from the gunship, it's Zaki."

"That's good. I'm looking forward to meeting our Saudi friend and tearing off his limbs, one by one. I'd hate to die first. Bastards like that have lost the right to walk the earth."

"Don't forget Nava," Talley reminded him, "We need to bear in mind he's holding her hostage."

"I haven't forgotten. How's the arm?"

He paused before he answered, thinking about whether he'd noticed any more movement, any less numbness. He decided he had to be honest. "The same."

Guy looked him directly in the eyes. "You're still worried about Parkinson's?"

"That's probably what's causing it. I think we all know I'm finished with Echo Six. All being well, you'll get command when we get back."

Guy's stare didn't lessen. "It could easily be something less serious, something temporary."

"Makes no difference. If it can come and go at anytime, this kind of work is out of the question."

Guy continued, almost as if he hadn't answered, "I've been talking to Jesse. He says there are a number of possibilities, which I won't go into right now. But he thinks, and I agree, there could be a simple, logical explanation. Something that can be resolved."

"I doubt it. I've…"

"Can it, Boss. I haven't finished," Guy grinned, "I thought I was supposed to be in command? That means you have to listen to me for a change." Talley waited for him to go on, "I don't want command. I never did. As long as you're leading Echo Six, I'm more than happy in the number two spot. Dammit, I've never had so much fun in my life, why would I want to change that by leading this bunch of misfits and thugs?"

"But..."

"Talk to Jesse when this is all over."

Talley smiled. "Whatever you say. Sir."

They both grinned. The smiles faded when the first cannon shells smashed through the fuselage.

Zaki immediately threw the aircraft into a dive, although they were only five hundred meters off the ground, and seconds later they were skimming just above the surface of the Saudi desert. He squirmed back to the cockpit where the pilot was fighting with the controls.

"What's going on?"

Goldstein answered, "The gunship, he managed to get a bit closer and fired a burst from long range. A few shells hit us but went wide. The aircraft is okay, how are things back there?"

"Guy's checking it out, but they're packed in so tight, it's hard to tell."

Welland poked his head through the door to the cockpit. "We were lucky. There are a few holes in the fuselage, but most of the cannon shells went low. Only problem is there's a cloud streaming out of the port wing."

"Shit."

He opened the tiny window and looked out. Sure enough, there was a stream of vapor leaving a long tail behind them.

"It looks like fuel. It could be hydraulic fluid, but I doubt it." He leaned down to look at the fuel gauge, "Yeah, we're losing fuel. If it gets any worse, the feed to the port engine could be starved."

He strained to look round at the position of the pursuing gunship.

"It's no nearer. If we can keep flying, we may be able to stay out of trouble. It's strange they haven't called us on the radio, ordering us to land."

"It's not strange at all," Talley told him, "If al Saif called in a favor, that gunship is on an unofficial mission. The last thing they want to do is let the Saudi military know what they're up to."

"That makes sense," Zaki replied, "Now leave me to fly the aircraft. I need to concentrate on keeping away from that bastard."

They took the hint and returned to the cabin. For the next half-hour they flew northwest, heading for the Saudi border, and the relatively friendly territory of Iraq. Twice more, the gunship attempted to hit them from long range, but both times the shots went wide, and everyone aboard the Twin Otter breathed sighs of relief; until Zaki shouted for him to come forward.

"We're running very low on fuel. It's going to be touch and go whether we can make it all the way. I thought you'd need to know, in case we have to crash land."

"Can you take any shortcuts?" he grinned, more as a jest.

The answer surprised him. "I could, but it would mean flying across Jordan. We don't have clearance, but at this height, we could be in and out of the country before they know we're there. They sure won't pick us up on any radar. On the other hand..."

He glanced around at Guy, who nodded. "Do it. And I need to use your radio. Just in case."

Despite the fact they were operating outside of NATFOR control, Brooks needed to know their status.

Zaki selected guard frequency, handed him the headset, and Talley began the long process of putting a call through 'in clear' to Admiral Brooks at NATO Headquarters in Brussels. It took ten minutes before he was patched through, but finally the Admiral's familiar voice came into his headset.

"Brooks."

Just one word, and the tone dripped with frost.

"This is Talley. We're in…"

"I know where you are, Commander."

"You know?"

"Sure. We're not exactly without resources in this place. We watched you take off, and your pal trying to keep up in the helo."

It was as close as Brooks could get to spelling it out on an open line. A satellite overhead, even a drone maybe, on some other mission, had spotted them.

"Understood. We're headed for a ship, a big yacht. It's in a port, about eighty kilometers south of where I landed when I first arrived. That's where we believe the hostage is held."

A pause. "Understood. You know you're out of order, Talley?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I thought you'd want to know what was going down."

"Why would you think that?"

Talley almost flinched. The answer was laden with ice.

"Let me know when you've finished with this fool's errand," he continued, "I'd like my unit back in one piece. So you're still trying to rescue your girlfriend?"

"The last hostage, yes, Sir. Our friend from the Hotel Bravos still has her."

Another long pause, and he thought the Admiral had gone. "Let me be clear, you said Hotel Bravos. Is that what I think it is?"

"It is, Sir."

"How deep is their involvement?"

"All the way down."

Another pause. "Copy that. It explains a lot. We've been keeping your target on the radar as a person of significance, and I'm looking now at recent recon reports for the place you're headed. There's only one vessel there that fits the bill. It belongs to our friend, is that what you're saying?"

"Exactly, Sir."

"I see. I'll make a note. And let me know when you're ready to hand my men back."

The line went dead before he could reply. Talley knew his arm made little difference. The Admiral wasn't biting on the 'last hostage' ploy. If he were lucky, he'd be fired. If not, he'd be court martialed.

If I’m to go down, I'd sooner it was rescuing someone I care so much for, and taking down someone as vile and disgusting as al Saif at the same time. A swansong, sure, but what a swansong!

Another burst of cannon fire smashed into the aircraft, this time biting off a piece of the starboard wingtip. The nose dipped and everything tilted to starboard, but once again, Zaki fought with the controls and got it back on an even keel. But it was obvious something was badly wrong, and when he looked at Talley, his gaze was stricken.