and he wiped his sweating palm on his pants leg, then shifted the weapon to the other hand and did the same.
Williams reappeared at the entrance of the gate and waved them on. They moved out.
Once they cleared the gate, they broke into a run. The extra hundred-plus pounds Addison was carrying didn’t appear to slow his stride. Now it was a foot race to cover the five miles and get back to the extraction point. There was no doubt in Dave’s mind that bin Muzzar would pursue them. Fraser’s guess was right, he was obviously rallying his army.
At least the terrain was flat and they were making good time. They got another break when the moon disappeared behind drifting clouds. It was a temporary respite, but he welcomed any help he could get. They were nearing the coast when the moon’s silver rays once again streaked the countryside just as they heard the distant sound of approaching vehicles. AK-47 cartridges had begun kicking up puffs of dirt around them by the time they’d reached the cover of the rocky coastline.
“What in hell should we do?” Bolen shouted as bullets ricocheted off the rocks around them.
“Take cover and hold your fire.”
At that moment a rocket-propelled grenade exploded nearby.
“Now they’re launching RPGs at us and we aren’t supposed to shoot back?” Addison shouted.
“We’ve got no choice now,” Dave said. “We’ll have to take out the ones with the RPGs before they blow us apart. No spraying. Use your rifles’ laser low lights and thermo-sightings to pick your targets.”
A bullet ricocheted off a nearby rock. “How are we going to get out of here?” Addison shouted, trying to be heard above the steady clatter of gunfire. “They’ll pick us off like fish in a barrel.”
“Just hold them back until I can get us some help.”
Dave pulled out the encrypted cell phone. Knowing that everything he said would be scrambled into code during the transmission, he identified himself and their coordinates, and then shared the bad news.
“We’re in the rocks and taking heavy fire from RPGs and AK-47s to our west.” Another grenade exploded nearby to reinforce the seriousness of his report. “We need close air support. We have two American civilians with us. Repeat. We need close air support.”
“We’re gonna be out of ammo before any help can reach us,” Addison mumbled a short time later as he changed the clip in his rifle. “This is my last clip.”
“What are we going to do?” Robert Manning cried out. He appeared on the verge of hysteria.
Dave tossed Addison one of his remaining clips, and then glanced with loathing at Manning huddled behind the shelter of a boulder.
Addison had placed Manning’s wife under the same shelter. She was lying unconscious on her stomach. Her cowardly husband wasn’t making any effort to protect her body from a possible ricochet.
“Was she hit?” Dave asked.
“No, sir,” Addison said. “She’s been out cold since before we even left the palace. I ain’t seen her move a muscle or heard a peep out of her.”
“It shouldn’t be much longer. When I contacted them, they’d already launched a couple of F/A-18s from a carrier in the Mediterranean.”
Dave had no sooner uttered the words when two low-flying jets screamed past, the red glare of their backburners welcome fiery beacons overhead. Dave flashed the signal to identify their position and the jets circled and flew past again.
“What if they start firing at us?” Manning said. “You hear about friendly fire all the time.”
If the bastard didn’t shut up, it sure as hell wouldn’t be friendly fire that killed him.
“Don’t sweat it, Manning. They’ve got a GPS fix on us now.”
“What’s that?” Manning asked.
“A global positioning satellite,” Kurt Bolen said quickly to shut Manning up. “Those pilots know exactly where we are now.”
Infrared sights exposed the position of the attackers and the pilots opened up with their guns, spraying the ground ahead of them with a warning hail of bullets.
It was enough to rout the pursuers. Before the jets could circle again, the roar of the retreating car engines signaled the battle’s end.
Dave had just gotten the all-clear sign on the phone when the sudden whir of rotors announced the arrival of a helicopter.
Within minutes they were airborne, and Dave contacted Mike Bishop.
“The mission was a bust, Mike. The target escaped.”
“Did you all make it out okay?”
“Yeah. No casualties.”
“Why in hell did you kill bin Muzzar?” Mike asked. “He wasn’t your target.”
“He’s dead? It wasn’t intentional. We were taking heavy fire from RPGs and AK-47s. All we were doing was holding them off.”
“According to our sources the sheik died at the palace. His throat had been cut.”
“Then it wasn’t one of us.”
“Maybe McDermott killed him. Figured it was a double cross.”
“Could be. Bin Muzzar accused Manning of one before the sheik disappeared. That’s why we had to bring out Manning and his wife. We did bring McDermott’s pack with us. Maybe it will turn up something.”
“Glad you’re all safe. See you when you get back.”
“Right. Roger and out.”
Dave hung up the phone and shifted back to join the others. A couple of the men had already fallen asleep. Manning was sitting with his back against the wall chewing on his lip. He’d have a lot to explain when they got back to the States. He’d been consorting with a known terrorist. He was certain to pull some jail time for that. Dave hoped the government would lock Manning away and lose the key.
He wiped the greasepaint off his face and shifted over to Addison’s side. The kid had done good. Followed orders and kept his cool under fire. But he looked so damn young. Right now Dave felt as old as Methuselah—or at least ancient enough to join the Rolling Stones.
“How’s the lady doing?”
“She’s been sleeping peacefully, sir.”
“Through the whole thing?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, Manning said she’d been drinking heavily and passed out.”
“That’s what he said, sir. But it sure doesn’t seem right to me. She never moved a muscle even on the run.” Addison glanced down at the woman. “She’s the hottest woman I’ve seen in a long time. I’d have thought she could do better than that jerk she’s married to.”
