FATAL eMPULSE (45 page)

Gerrit and the others nodded. He glanced back and saw that the pursuing cars were just behind them. Looked like about eight men inside the cars, four in each.

The truck lurched to a stop. Gerrit peeled back the canvas, letting the others drop to the ground. “You guys head toward the plane. I’ll give you cover.”

Aiming at the lead car, he waited until the vehicle was about fifty yards away, and then he opened up. He hit the driver, and the car swerved and then rolled violently, end over end. The second car barely slowed, swerving to miss the first and continued straight toward Gerrit. One of the car’s occupants leaned out and fired in his direction.

“Amateur,” Gerrit muttered, taking aim at the driver. He opened up and sent several three-round bursts through the front windshield, killing the driver and causing the car to swerve from its path.

One of the occupants grabbed the wheel, and Gerrit opened up again, taking out the second driver. The car swerved again, this time hurtling straight for the truck, straight toward Gerrit.

He braced himself moments before the car slammed into the back end of the two-ton. The collision slammed Gerrit’s body back against the metal between the bed of the truck and the cab. He felt his left arm pop. The impact must have broken his arm or popped it out of the socket. He would know in a second when the pain hit.

The impact also ripped his rifle out of his hands. It lay a few feet away. He grabbed it with his right hand, quickly reloaded then crawled to the tailgate. A rush of pain in his left arm told him that limb would be useless. He must move on.

The car had wedged itself between the truck bed and the ground, its front end buried beneath the truck’s undercarriage. Smoke curled from beneath the car, and his mind warned him that an explosion might be forthcoming.

He rolled over the tailgate and onto the roof of the car then leaped to the ground. Pain shot through his arm with each move he made. Those inside the car hadn’t moved. They were either dead or unconscious. Either way, they were no longer a threat.

Gerrit ran toward the plane. He glanced back and saw several military transport trucks heading his way. A number of soldiers stood in the bed looking toward him. He dashed up the stairs into the belly of the plane and saw Max and the others had bound up the flight crew. The crew sat in the aisle, glaring at Gerrit as he passed. “We got company headed our way, Max.”

Max seemed preoccupied, standing next to Scott Henderson. “I know, Gerrit.” Turning back to Henderson, Max said, “Okay, Henderson. The system is fired up. We have only a few seconds to know if this system is operational.”

“Hey, I never knew this was for real. I was told it was a practice run. I did not—”

“Forget all that!” Max yelled. “This is the system you were supposed to use. Is it functional?”

Henderson turned toward the controls. He seemed to be studying the system.

“Henderson, we are out of time. Is this operational?”

Puzzled, the scientist turned toward Max. “Yes, this is the system, but…”

Max shook the man’s shoulder. “But what?”

“It will not function. It has been set up properly, but there is one key component missing. Without it, this is useless.”

Max stared at him for a moment. “You sure?”

Gerrit heard gunfire outside, and several rounds blasted through the aircraft’s metal skin. “Max, we’ve got to get word to Perlman and Thompson. We may be out of time.”

Max nodded and picked up a portable radio. “It will be a bear if we can’t get any reception here.” He switched on the power, and static crackled on the radio as he moved toward the doorway.

Gerrit would try to hold them off until help arrived or until it was too late.

March 18
Tel Aviv, Israel

A
sense of dread scraped at Jack’s insides. A sick feeling. He glanced at the tracking screen, watching the bleeps—each representing aircraft—streaking toward the target. They were a few minutes away from the point of detonation. If they didn’t hear anything, Jack knew that Gerrit and the others would be vaporized by the blasts. His stomach tightened as he waited.

Perlman leaned forward, a worried look creasing his weathered face. “I’m sorry, Jack. Our pilots are going to take out every plane on the ground.”

Jack nodded, still watching the screen. “I hoped we could have pulled it off. And now…”

The two men sat in silence.

Jack’s eyes wandered to the other screen where the red blinking dots represented his people. Most of markers centered on the aircraft, the men, the scientist’s laptop, and the aircraft. And across the grid, he still saw two blinking dots representing Alena and Shakeela. At least they’re safe. A contingency plan had been created to pick them up in the event Gerrit and the others died.

It looked like they would have to go to the alternate plan. He watched the red dots at the farmhouse. He could no longer watch the airport. Once those jets arrived, markers coming from Gerrit and the men would go dark. Their lights would be put out forever.

Alena got a text off to Jack just as she saw the man closest to the main road rise and start zigzagging in their direction.
Here they come!
She gripped her weapon, waiting. She would take out the first guy, then dash to the rear of the farmhouse, anticipating that the others would be coming.

If any of them got to the building, it would be over. Only one attacker had to get close enough to hurl a grenade to finish them off. Once the attackers got that close, she’d raced back to Shakeela and try to protect her until the end.

The first man reached the open area between the house and where the orchard began. He hesitated for a moment and then ran toward the house. She broke the glass and fired, her first burst spinning him around as he fell. The man did not move. Alena did not wait to see if he was dead.

Gripping her rifle, she dashed across the house to the far wall. The man she saw hiding on that side of the building had already made it across the open area. He was just reaching the farmhouse when Alena fired again. She shot right through the glass, catching the man in the chest. He faltered and then kept running toward her, firing as he ran.

Body armor!

She returned fire, aiming for his legs, and when he stumbled again, she aimed for his head. The man pitched forward, his body falling through the window. Not waiting, she scrambled to another room and saw she was too late. A gunman had just reached the house and ducked out of sight. He must be working his way toward the door. She calculated where the man might be at that exact moment.

Seeing a shadow on the ground outside, Alena fired through the wall where the gunman ought to be standing. The man rushed past a window. She’d missed. Now she saw two shadows, two men running together. Alena fired once more through the wall in a burst that used up her magazine. As she reloaded, she heard the front door kicked open.

Dashing toward the front room, Alena burst into the room only to see that she had missed whoever had kicked in the door. One of the men lay dead. One gunman got inside.

Shakeela!

Angry that she let these killers get this close, she charged toward the bedroom where Shakeela lay beneath the mattress. Just as she reached the room, she heard a shot ring out. Bursting into the room, Alena prepared to fire.

The intruder lay dead.

Emerging from the mattress, Shakeela tried to rise, pistol in hand.

Alena glanced around the room. No more intruders for the moment. “Are you all right?”

Shakeela nodded and lay back exhausted.

Whirling around, Alena ran from room to room, looking for more attackers. When she got to the front door, she glanced out where she first spotted one of the attackers and saw an Army lorry roll up with a number of soldiers in the bed.

She took a position near the window and made sure her extra ammunition was in arm’s reach. The soldiers leaped from the truck and grouped together, looking toward the house. They seemed to be uncertain as to what to do. They began to spread out and walk toward the orchard.

Gripping her rifle, Alana got ready for the next attack. Based on the number of soldiers, she knew the next assault would overwhelm them. She would just do her best until she could no longer fight.

Jack sat watching the screen. Perlman had already started a countdown when it would be the point of no return. At that point there would not be enough time for the pilots to shift game plans. They would be committed. There was two minutes left.

His cell phone vibrated, alerting him to an incoming text message. He thought of ignoring it, given the circumstances, but decided to take a quick look. It was from Alena. He activated the message and read what she wrote.

We are under attack. Send help ASAP.

Jack glanced up at the screen and saw that the two bleeps belonging to Alena and Shakeela were still active. That didn’t mean they were alive, but it did mean that they were still in the farmhouse.

He tapped Perlman on the shoulder. “Just got a message from Alena, she—”

Perlman lurched forward. A phone at his console was ringing. “Just a minute, Jack.” He snatched it up. “Perlman here.”

Perlman nodded, his jaw tightening. “Got it.” He slammed the phone down and yelled to the Air Force officers directing the raid. “Go to primary plan. Now!”

Perlman turned to Jack. “Max got the message through. Now, let’s see if there was enough time.”

Jack sprang out of his chair. He dashed to the where those communications sat directing traffic. “Can you patch me through to the Marine unit coming in on our choppers?”

One of the men nodded, punched in a few frequency numbers, and handed Jack a headset.

He jammed the headphones on and heard a series of squelches before a voice came over the air, identifying himself as the lead pilot for the extraction team.

Jack identified himself. “Listen careful. Split your group into two. You have a secondary target—a farmhouse. You were given the coordinates. Head for that location with some of the gunships. We have two on the ground under fire. They need our help.”

“Roger that, sir. We’ll commence that operation immediately.”

“Thanks.” Jack pulled the headset off as he watched a small group of blips on the screen—choppers and gunships tailing the jets—veer off as they crossed into Syrian airspace. The lead aircraft had initiated an electronic pulse, blinding Syria’s air-defense systems. At least the Marine helicopters—as well as the rest of the Israeli aircraft—would not have to tangle with any Syrian jets. The enemy was blind to anything flying. Now, Jack and the others only had to worry about those on the ground. The best air-defense attack in the world could not stop a bullet on the ground.

Jack and Perlman watched the screen that signaled where Gerrit and the others were fighting. Jack found himself holding his breath. In the next sixty seconds, the red dots at the airport would disappear from the screen. After that all communications would be cut off until Gerrit and the others on the ground hooked up with Israeli and American forces.

Dead or alive! Only time would tell.

March 18
Damascus, Syria

G
errit tried to hold them off. He must buy Max and the others time to take care of business.

Gunmen came leapfrogging their way until they reached the smoldering truck Gerrit and the others left behind. A fire had not broken out yet, but he could see smoke coming from the truck’s undercarriage. And where there was smoke…

Gerrit reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a hand grenade. He was about to spring the pin when Max yelled out, “I got the message through. We will have to wait until the jets arrive to see if they got the message.”

Gerrit motioned to one of the other men. “Lay down suppression fire for me.” He held up a grenade. The man nodded. Gerrit sprang the pin and yelled, “Go.”

The man began firing, and the attackers drew back behind the truck. Gerrit stepped through the doorway and hurled the grenade toward the truck. It hit the ground and bounced underneath. A few seconds later, he heard the explosion and saw a ball of fire envelop the truck and car. Men screamed, running away from the wreckage, their clothes on fire.

A second later he heard the explosion he hoped to hear—the one they were waiting for in the sky. He saw a jet that must have released the first of several HPM bombs screaming overhead. Others screamed past as other explosions shook the ground. Gerrit grabbed his cell phone and looked at the screen. Blank.

“Max, check your cell phone,” Gerrit yelled back. “Is it dead?”

Max glanced at his phone and then looked up at Gerrit, grinning. “No life showing.”

Gerrit grabbed his satchel and ran toward Max. “Get your guys together and make a sweep outside. I think most of the soldiers—those who aren’t barbecued—are probably backpedaling big-time.”

“Back peddling?” Max looked puzzled.

Gerrit glanced outside. “They are moving back because they are not sure what just happened. And they can’t call anyone. That’s the beauty of this operation.”

“Everything is toast?” Max asked, looking toward the main international airport. “No one can call, text, drive, or do anything that has anything to do with electronics. Those bombs you just heard wiped out everything for miles around.”

“Fantastic,” Gerrit said. “Now clear out. Let me go to work.”

“How long do you need?”

“Just a couple minutes, but you guys need to be clear of the plane.”

“Got it.” Max motioned his men to head out. Max grabbed Scott Henderson by the collar and dragged him outside.

Gerrit waited until they had reached ground level and began to spread out a safe distance from the aircraft. He heard in the distance the welcoming beats of helicopters churning the air on their way. He knew they were friendlies. The enemy’s aircraft at this airport would be grounded for some time.

Once Max and the others were at a safe distance, Gerrit ran to the center of the plane until he reached the system that had cost so many lives. Even though this system was inoperative, there were enough parts here, added to the part that Henderson said was missing, to make a functional system. He wanted to make sure the system was completely destroyed.