Ready to Kill (6 page)

CHAPTER 8

Skimming the treetops at 160 miles per hour in a state-of-the-art, blacked-out HH-60H Rescue Hawk, Nathan rested his head against the bulkhead. Were they really doing this? It seemed surreal. For a frantic second, he could almost imagine demons in the forest below, waiting to hunt them. He took a deep breath and relaxed his hands and jaw. He and Harv were about to be delivered into unfriendly territory that held hideous memories of unspeakable pain and anguish.

Nathan looked at his watch—2100 hours—right on schedule. There was no turning back at this point. Service members had risked their lives getting them down here, and scrubbing the mission wasn’t an option. The plan was to drop them four miles north of scatter point alpha, so there’d be no possible way the helicopter’s noise could be heard at that distance. If an ambush waited for them up there, they planned to sneak up on it undetected. Nathan estimated their four-mile trek would take about five to six hours.

The Navy supplied all of their equipment, including his ghillie-wrapped M40 sniper rifle built from a Remington 700 model. He’d requested the optical be predialed to a 300-yard zero and that it employ external one-quarter minute-of-angle adjustments for windage and elevation. He’d also requested Lake City match ammo, because he knew its ballistic curve well. Dressed in MARPAT woodland uniforms, they’d meld perfectly into the environment. Their faces and the backs of their hands were painted in dark shades of green and brown. The half-moon wouldn’t be a problem, as most of its light didn’t penetrate the forest’s multilayered canopy.

Through their headsets, the pilot announced they’d just crossed the Rio Coco and welcomed them to Nicaragua. They were also told to stand by—they’d be rappelling in just under two minutes.

Harv sat motionless, looking at him. Nathan nodded an okay.

The Hawk’s crew chief and gunner didn’t see their silent exchange. Wearing night-vision goggles, they were glued to their M-240D machine guns watching for any signs of human activity, most notably the twinkle of weapons fire. Nathan wasn’t concerned; the ship’s crew could deliver a few hundred pounds of high-speed copper and lead to anyone foolish enough to take a potshot at them.

He heard the turbine engines change pitch, then released his four-part seat belt. He kept his headset on, powered on his night-vision goggles, and pivoted them down to his eyes. Harv mirrored his moves.

Nathan’s world turned into multiple shades of green. He leaned across the cabin and checked Harv’s rappelling harness, backpack, waist pack, and sidearm holster.

Harv did the same for him. All secure.

Nathan moved his rifle from a chest position to his back where it fit snuggly against the side his backpack.

The pilot slowed gradually at first, then flared for a hover, being careful not to create blade slap.

The pilot said,
“You’re good to go. We’ll be orbiting on the border until you send us on our way.”

“Copy,” Nathan said. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Safe hunting.”

Just before Nathan removed his headset, the crew chief told him they were fifty feet above the jungle floor. Nathan nodded an acknowledgment.

Without hesitating, Nathan grabbed the rope in the brake-hand, guide-hand technique. Keeping a tight brake grip, he quickly maneuvered into the L position, placing both of his boots on the edge of the deck with his butt hanging out the door. He held that position until the crew chief gave him the final hand signal to jump.

Nathan bent his legs, sprang backward, and loosened his brake-hand.

Gravity did the rest.

His stomach tightened as his body zipped toward the ground. He hadn’t rappelled in quite a while, and it took several seconds to get a controlled descent going.

When he landed on the damp Nicaraguan soil, he unhooked the rope and drew his Sig. Crouching, he scanned his immediate area before looking up. Harv was already coming down. Nathan inwardly flinched at the tremendous noise. The sensation of being directly below such a thunderous machine felt humbling. The ground vibrated from the Hawk’s energy. Whipping back and forth, the surrounding treetops protested in anger at the intrusion. Every low-growing plant within a thirty-foot radius was laid flat from the downwash.

Although he didn’t see any footprints, trash, or other signs indicating human presence, he now wished they’d made that HALO jump after all but knew they were both too rusty. Landing in the canopy of an eighty-foot tree would’ve ruined his evening.

The pilot had chosen a good spot, but there wasn’t much room for error. Their landing zone was a thirty-yard clearing on the forest floor where the ground wasn’t quite level. Nathan estimated it had a downward slope of about 20 degrees to the north.

Harv unhooked and gave a thumbs-up to the crew chief, who was leaning out the door.

The Rescue Hawk made a 180-degree pivot and paralleled the downward pitch of the mountainside as it flew away, its deafening noise quickly abating. The insertion had taken less than fifteen seconds.

Nathan pointed to his NV goggles, then gestured toward the far side of the clearing. He remained crouched as Harv carefully worked his way across the uneven terrain to the east side of the LZ. After Harv was safely under tree cover, Nathan mirrored the move to the east, knowing Harv had his back. Inside the tree line, Nathan stopped next to a small rock outcropping. He took a knee and surveyed his immediate area. The trunks of massive trees dominated the mountainside like sentries. Their dark forms seemed to scrutinize him, looking for flaws and weaknesses. Nathan felt like an intruder who’d stumbled into an enemy camp. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he forced the anxiety aside. He needed to focus on the task at hand: determining if their insertion had been detected.

Over the next sixty seconds, the helicopter’s clatter faded until an eerie silence enveloped them. The air was still. Nothing moved at all. Adding to the isolation, the forest was totally quiet. The helicopter had frightened every animal in the area, including insects.

A few seconds later, a faint echo of the Rescue Hawk reached their position.

Their transition from technology to nature was absolute.

Nathan looked across the clearing at Harv, brought his hands together in an interlocked finger hold, and pointed to the south. Staying inside the tree line, they circled their way to meet at the southern edge of the open space.

Keeping his voice low, Harv said, “I don’t know about you, but that rappel triggered an adrenaline rush I hadn’t felt in years. I wasn’t sure I remembered how to friggin’ do it.”

“I know what you mean. I experienced the same thing when my ass was hanging off the deck. Let’s take a few minutes to settle our nerves. We’ve got time. Let’s also power down our NVGs to preserve the batteries.”

“I’ll call our ride and tell them we’re five by five.”

Nathan turned around so Harv could access his pack.

“This is a perfect LZ. We should have a clear line of transmission out to the Hawk.”

From what Nathan could gather, the pilot had dropped them in the precise spot Cantrell had identified on the aerials. They were about a third of the way up the north side of a small mountain. Scatter point alpha should be four miles directly south-southwest of their position.

Harv powered on the handheld radio and pressed the transmit button. It was preset to the right frequency. “Good to go.”

They received an acknowledgment click.

Harv turned it off and returned it to Nathan’s pack. “Whatever they’re paying us, it ain’t enough.”

Nathan half laughed, knowing this was a gratis mission. “Our pilot did a good job. I wish I could’ve looked over her shoulder on the flight.” He hadn’t been able to see the flight deck because of the bulkhead separating their compartment. Rescue Hawks employed terrain-following software, and he’d never seen it in action.

“I wonder how many pilots are women these days.”

“Probably more than we’d imagine. She’s got the best job in the Navy.”

Harv said, “Spoken like a true helicopter pilot.”

“On our feet-wet leg, we were never higher than fifty feet.”

“Driving Hornets may seem more glamorous,” Harv continued, “but helos are where it’s at.”

“I don’t think we’ve landed on a Perry-class frigate before. The seas had to be ten to twelve feet. The
McClusky
’s helipad looked really small during the approach. Did you notice how she hovered above the deck and let the ship come up to her? That was a good trick. She timed it perfectly.”

“Fixed-wing landings on carriers are tough, but I’d be willing to bet that landing a helicopter on a missile frigate that’s rolling and pitching is just as difficult, maybe even harder.”

“No argument here,” Nathan said. “It’s incredible they do it at night on blacked-out ships. Squid aviators are a rare breed.”

They fell silent a moment. Some of the forest’s sound had returned, mostly insect buzzing. The birds and amphibians would take a little longer to feel secure again.

“I’ll take point,” said Nathan. “You ready to go?”

“Not really, but we’re a little short on options. Let’s just make sure we get to our extraction point on time. I don’t relish spending more than one night down here.”

CHAPTER 9

Nathan and Harv had been hiking for nearly three hours, and both were soaked, though not from rain. This northern area of the central region didn’t have enough elevation to get them above the heat. In neighboring Honduras, it got plain cold in cloud forests. According to Harv’s GPS reading, they’d traveled slightly more than three miles. The device supplied their current location along with a vector to their destination. It also calculated the remaining straight-line distance.

Four hundred yards up a fairly steep slope, Nathan pivoted and issued a low warbling whistle. He couldn’t see Harv, but gave the form-up hand signal. His friend would be along shortly. Thirty seconds later, Harv seemed to materialize out of the undergrowth.
He’s still got the touch
, Nathan thought, impressed with Harv’s stealthy approach. They were nearly certain their insertion hadn’t been detected; otherwise they would’ve been intercepted by now. Still, they never spoke above whispers.

“Let’s take a breather and drink more water,” Nathan said.

“Sounds good. We should chow down a couple of energy bars. This is a serious calorie burn.”

“Listen to it, Harv. It’s incredible.”

“I think it’s noisier at night.”

“It definitely is.” Nathan knew this jungle was teeming with life with a common goal: to reproduce itself. The combined drone from hundreds of frogs, buzzing insects, and high-pitched bird calls created an eerie sonata. Adding to the mood, a musty rotting odor hung in the air. Nathan didn’t care for jungles much. Even though desert temperature changes could be extreme, Nathan preferred them over jungles. He also liked conifer forests. This place was beautiful in its own way, but its randomly entangled environment didn’t suit him. It seemed like organic chaos.

Harv looked around and shook his head. “I keep thinking about Jesse Ventura’s line from
Predator
. ‘This place makes Cambodia look like Kansas.’”

“Amen to that.”

“The going’s a little easier under the canopied areas where the ground vegetation is thinner. So far, we haven’t had to make many significant detours. I’ve noticed a lot more cleared areas that weren’t here before. Think it’s from illegal logging?”

Nathan peeled the wrapper from an energy bar. “Probably. It makes our slog a little easier in places, but it’s a shame to see.”

“Enforcement of preservation is probably spotty at best. I wouldn’t imagine Nicaragua has a large budget for forest rangers.”

“It definitely doesn’t. Sadly, it’s the honor system out here. I’m no expert on the subject, but I imagine Nicaragua has the same problem as many other parts of the world. People need wood for cooking.”

“That was a beautiful stream we crossed down there with the waterfall into the pool and all the moss-covered rocks. There must be hundreds of places like that in these mountains.”

“No doubt there are.”

“How’re you doing?” Harv asked.

“I’m okay. You?”

“I keep flashing back to carrying you through two miles of this stuff. I don’t think I’d ever been so exhausted.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“You were mostly unconscious and damned close to dying.” Harv grinned. “You told me you loved me
. . .
several times.”

“Don’t ever repeat that, or you’ll die slowly
. . .
It’s true, though.”

“I know,” Harv said.

“You want to take point for a spell?”

Harv took another bite from his energy bar. “No problem. Alpha is just beyond this next ridgeline. At the top, we’ll take a few minutes to look the area over, but I doubt we’ll see anything.”

“I keep wondering who we’ll find up there.”

“We might find no one.”

“We’re outta here then,” Nathan said. “We aren’t hanging around. We’ll make the best possible speed back to the extraction point.”

“Let’s do another TI and RF sweep.”

Nathan removed the handheld thermal imager from Harv’s pack and placed its rubber flange tight on his face before powering it on. He conducted a slow 360-degree sweep of their immediate area. It wasn’t supereffective in this environment because of all the layered plant life, but it confirmed there weren’t any warm human forms within its reach.

Nathan untied Harv’s ghillie suit coat and draped it over his friend’s head. The thick shaggy garment would block the illumination on Harv’s face from the radio frequency detector’s small LCD screen. Even though the brightness had been adjusted to its lowest setting, it could be easily detected by a night-vision device. Nathan waited for Harv to give him the okay before removing the ghillie top.

“We’re good,” Harv said. “Just to be on the safe side, I’m setting it to vibrate and leaving it on.” Harv tucked the device into his thigh pocket with the LCD screen facing in, toward his thigh. Third generation night-vision scopes were so sensitive, they could pick up invisible light bleeding through fabric. Even with the device facing inward, its bleed light could still be detected but not as brightly. “Okay, I’m on point. Let’s close it up to a ten-yard separation until we reach the ridgeline.”

Nathan waited until Harv moved out before following. Harv was a good point man. Like Nathan, he knew to avoid stepping on certain types of exposed roots because of their softer skin. They weren’t overly concerned about leaving footprints, because no one was following them. Every one hundred yards or so, Harv would pause and hold up a closed fist. It was standard practice to stop and check for human presence, but the unbelievable din of the forest drowned out a lot of sound. It took a practiced ear to hear something that didn’t belong. Jungle stalking was a double-edged sword. It was easy to conceal yourself, but equally difficult to spot someone with the same intent.

They arrived at the top of the ridgeline twenty minutes later and had to move laterally to get a clear line of sight through the trees to the south. Across a thousand-yard canyon, scatter point alpha wasn’t more than a bump in the next ridgeline, but it had a distinctive shape, like a bowling pin lying on its side.

“There’s alpha,” Harv said.

“If anyone’s waiting for us over there, we’ll never see them unless they want to be seen.”

“I’ll take a look with the field glasses anyway. Our half-moon is getting low on the horizon. We’ll use NV from here on. At the bottom of the canyon, we’ll put on our ghillies for the ascent.”

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kinda hoping no one’s there.”

Harv nodded. “Yeah, me too. It wouldn’t break my heart to beat feet outta this place.”

As predicted, Harv didn’t detect any human presence. All was quiet. On par with the weather report the Navy had given them, patchy clouds were moving in, but they didn’t look heavy enough to produce rain.

Harv took point again, and they started down the slope. Although they could’ve gone faster, they maintained a slow pace, careful not to make any discernible noise. Nathan felt as though they were being watched from across the canyon but dismissed the thought as paranoia. No one should be able to see them through all the undergrowth. Up ahead, Harv diverted to the west to avoid a dangerously steep section left over from an old landslide.

At the bottom of the canyon, they found a stream flowing to the northeast that would ultimately join the Rio Coco. The trickle of its water had a soothing sound, but neither of them felt especially relaxed. If there was going to be an ambush, it would likely occur up at alpha.

After slipping into their two-part ghillie suits, they looked each other over, making sure their coats weren’t snagged on their backpacks or waist packs. Their jacket hoods wouldn’t completely conceal their NV goggles without hampering their use, but only the last inch or so of their dual scopes would be visible. Using black elastic straps they’d sewn to the inside tops of their hoods, they secured the straps under their chins to keep their hoods from being pulled back by brambles and low-hanging branches.

“We’ll make the ascent in parallel formation,” Nathan said. “I’ll take the left. Thirty-yard separation. Harv, we aren’t being taken prisoner.”

“Understood.” His friend pulled his Sig and deployed out to the right.

Nathan mirrored the move to the left, envisioning himself as a wraith, slowly moving in for the kill. He used this mindset to keep his senses focused and sharp. In nature, most predators employed some form of stealth, and this situation was no different. They didn’t plan on killing anyone tonight, but they wouldn’t hesitate if the situation required it.

After fifteen minutes of climbing, it was impossible to determine how close to the ridgeline they were—the canopy prevented them from seeing its dark outline. The sound of the jungle was slightly less pronounced up here, but it didn’t concern Nathan. It was always noisier in basins and canyons near water.

Taking steps every three or four seconds, they climbed for another five minutes. It was a tediously slow pace, but it prevented a potential enemy from detecting their movement. Nathan kept looking up, hoping for a glimpse of the summit.

Then he stopped cold, frozen by the sudden sound of a helicopter.