Because of The Brave - lanyon Josh - Страница 31

The silence in the makeshift LZ was almost eerie. Moonlight spotlighted snowy pine trees and surrounding rocky crags. Nothing moved.

“Where the hell is he?” O’Riley asked at last.

Vic shook his head, eyes raking the barren plateau for any sign of life. “Let’s fan out. Have a look for him. He’s supposed to be on his way”

They spread out, moving quickly across the mountain top. Not so much as a ground squirrel stirred.

Vic jogged to the edge of the clearing, looking down the mountain side. He could see the nubby carpet of pine trees and conifers. Not a glimmer of light from anywhere but the moon overhead.

“Where are you?” he asked softly.

The wind made a ghostly sigh through the funnel of rocks.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vic saw the flash of white light. A blast rent the night. Vic turned as a giant, invisible hand seemed to gouge into the earth in front of the nose of the chopper sending snow and rocks flying his way. He hit

the ground as shrapnel slammed into the side of the chopper and pinged against the rotary blades.

Mortar fire.

He looked for his guys and saw them flattened behind cover. Matturo yelled across the clearing, “Two o’clock. The bastards are firing mortars from over that ridge.”

The ridge was on the other side of a gorge separating this mountain from the next.

One of the chopper’s door gunners returned fire with his M60 machine gun, though it was doubtful he had a viable target.

Vic considered the ridge as another flash indicated a second mortar was being lobbed their way. Light, probably hand-held mortar, and far enough away to make that strike near the nose of the chopper more a matter of luck than strategy – which wouldn’t help Vic’s team if that luck held and they ended up stranded on this mountaintop – surrounded by al Qaeda. He remembered Marsden’s words about not wanting another Robert’s Ridge. Marsden was going to piss himself when he got word of this. Although anyone could have predicted what would happen putting a chopper down in the middle of these mountains.

Not like there was any choice about it. From the moment Vic had heard Sean Kennedy was the fox in the snare, he’d been determined to go.

The second mortar hit beneath the mountain top. Snow and rocks and shrapnel flew into the night and then rained down while Vic, Matturo, and Riley hunkered under what cover they could find.

Matturo was swearing a blue stream when he popped his head up again. “If this frogman doesn’t show up, how long are we planning on hanging around here?”

“Working on it.” No small arms fire. So far, so good. The dividing gorge between this mountain top and the ridge where the insurgents were holed up would slow al Qaeda down only briefly. And these mountains were filled with

bad guys to whom the sound of those mortars and machine gun fire would be reveille.

“Looks like they were waiting for us,” O’Riley shouted.

Vic shouted back, “If they were waiting for us this place would be swarming with al Qaeda.”

“Well, it won’t be long now.”

That was sure as shit true.

Another mortar exploded in the mountain below them. Vic could feel the mountain shake as the round thudded into its face.

“Any sign of our boy?” O’Riley called again from his position behind a scraggy evergreen that looked like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. “I got nothing. Any sign of him?”

Vic looked across to Matturo. Matturo shook his head.

“Let’s give him a little while,” Vic said. “Maybe traffic was heavy on the 101.”

O’Riley guffawed.

Every fifteen seconds another mortar round hit the hillside, usually beneath the crest but occasionally striking the cliffside above. Given the randomness of the impacts, Vic suspected the mortar team lacked a forward observer. What they did seem to have was an endless supply of ammo and boundless enthusiasm for their mission.

If Sean was trying to get up this mountain, the mortar fire would be one hell of a disincentive. And if he wasn’t trying to get up this mountain…

In the lull between rounds, Vic jumped up and zigzagged back to the Chinook, boots pounding gravel. Taking shelter on the other side of the ramp, he yelled into the chopper, “Somebody get on the radio and contact base. See if one of the CIA’s drones can give us Kennedy’s coordinates.”

In the distance he could hear the mortar firing. The longest minutes of his life ticked by while he waited for an answer.

When it came, it was not good.

“They’re not picking anything up.”

Sean. Don’t do this to me.

“He’s not moving or they can’t find him?”

Another eternity while he waited.

“They can’t find him.”

Okay. That could mean a couple of things. If one word defined the SEALs it was silence. And the fact that Sean had gone silent could mean the drone wasn’t positioned where it needed to be or there was a problem with it or with the live feed. It could mean Sean was lying low somewhere where the surveillance drones couldn’t see him.

It could mean he had been captured.

Or killed.

But Vic wasn’t going to accept that until he had proof. He turned to jog back to the clearing but the pilot, Cheyney, appeared at the top of the open ramp. She called after him, “Captain Black! We can’t hang around here any longer.”

Vic threw back, “We’re not leaving without Kennedy, so simmer down.”

“I’ll simmer you down, Stoney,” Cheyney snapped. “Any minute one of these ragheads is going to show up with an RPG and punch a hole in my bird. We’re taking off.”

Vic thought fast.

“Fair enough. Leave me here. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the mountain.”

She made a sound that in another woman might have been considered a squeak. “Leave you here? Are you out of your goddamned mind? This mountainside is going to be crawling with hostiles within the hour.”

“Someone needs to wait here for Kennedy.”

“Look, Stoney, I don’t like it either, but –”

“If he’s here, I’ll find him.”

“Stoney. What are you – you know as well as I do that he’s – that there’s a good chance he’s been captured or killed. The live feed isn’t picking up any activity.”

“No way.”

“No way? What do you mean, no way? Stoney, no way can I leave you here. I’ve got my orders too, you know? And even if I didn’t –”

He couldn’t hear this. He liked her. They’d had some good times together, but… no. He said, “Katie, give me three hours. I’ll head for the valley below. It’s a natural landing zone. You can pick me up there at…0500.”

“That’s getting way too close to sunrise.”

“We’ll still have a little margin.”

She was shaking her head.

“Listen, if Kennedy’s still alive we can’t fly out of here and leave him on this rock with hundreds of insurgents closing in on him.”

“And what if he’s not still alive? Stoney – Vic – no one is writing off Kennedy. But there are other ways to handle this.”

“If al Qaeda finds him before we do, they’ll execute him. You know that.”

“I know that. I also know…” Her voice trailed. “You’re out of your goddamned mind.”

“Three hours. That’s all I’m asking.”

“It’s not that simple. We’ve got another storm front moving in fast. Snow is on the way. We’re losing our window.”

“Then you better not be late.”

She was motionless for a long moment, a dark shadow against the blinking lights and movement within the chopper.

“I must be out of my mind. How the hell am I supposed to explain –?”

But she was talking to herself.

Eleven years ago, 1345, Bancroft Hall, U.S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Maryland

“So when were you going to tell me?”

The one look at Sean’s face he’d risked had hurt too much, so Vic was staring out the window of their dorm in Bancroft Hall, staring over the summer-green tops of trees. It made it worse because Sean was trying so hard not to show anything – after all those times Vic had warned him his face gave too much away. “I’m telling you now.”