Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (31 page)

Dawson
checked the GPS. They were only a couple of miles from the coordinates provided
and either this boat had just dropped off an assault team, or it was fleeing a
failed assault. He was betting on the latter. If it had just dropped off a team
it would have not been at full throttle, potentially giving away the element of
surprise, the motor loud enough to probably be heard back at the native village
these coordinates apparently represented.

He
pointed to the shore. “Secure the boat there then get back onboard.”

Spock
nodded, gunning the engine and expertly bringing it to the shore, Mickey
jumping to the ground, lashing the boat to two trees, fore and aft, as Red
brought their CIA provided boat alongside. Spock and Mickey climbed back in and
Dawson was about to give the order to get underway when he heard something.

“Cut the
engine!”

Red
complied and they all listened.

“Sounds
like gunfire, BD,” said Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James, his impossibly deep voice almost
a whisper.

“Definitely,”
concurred Spock.

“Punch
it, Chewie!” ordered Dawson, Red immediately firing the engine up and pointing
them downriver. “Gear up, we’re going in hot!” As he prepped himself along with
the men, he kept a keen eye on the shore, and when done, smacked Red on the
back and took over the controls, allowing his second-in-command and best friend
to prep. A glow among the trees became visible and he wondered if it were a
controlled campfire or a torched village, it impossible to tell, the glow
seeming very large.

He
spotted an inlet, almost hidden by low hanging tree branches and cut the power,
bringing them along the shoreline as the gunfire, now loud, continued to fill
the night. Red jumped to the shore and tied the boat to a tree, Spock doing the
same aft, then all twelve Bravo Team members jumped ashore, Dawson splitting
them into two teams. His six heading along the shoreline of the inlet, the
other team led by Red sweeping from the south.

As they
advanced, Team Two double-timing it using the noise from the gunfire as not
only an indicator as to where the parties were, but cover for any noise they
might make, Dawson’s expert ears began to dissect the battle. He could hear
three distinct weapons. MP5’s, Type 79’s and Glocks. He would expect the MP5’s
were Leather’s ex-SAS men, the Type 79’s the hostiles—presumed Chinese for the
moment—and the Glocks could be anybody’s guess, but he was presuming the good
guys or perhaps a mixture of both.

Suddenly
everything went silent, then cheers erupted along with hooting reminiscent of
an old John Wayne western, coming from the far side of the village they had
just gained sight of. He spotted a group of half a dozen men cautiously rise
from their positions as one of them spoke into his comm.

“This is
Team Lead, say again?”

A
transmission was repeated and the man whom Dawson recognized from the desert in
Egypt, retired Lt. Colonel Cameron Leather motioned for his men to advance.
They rushed the tree line, weapons at the ready, but no gunfire was heard as
they disappeared into the dense forest.

Dawson
activated his comm. “Bravo Two, Bravo One. Sweep right, over.”

“Bravo
One, Bravo Two, sweeping right, over.”

Dawson
and his team maintained their cover, each behind a good size tree, friendly
fire still deadly. He hesitated to call the satellite phone number he had been
given just in case it might give away someone’s position, or worse, startle
someone who might just shoot the poor bastard holding the device. They waited
for several minutes for someone to emerge from the jungle, but no one did.

Clever
man.

“This is
Sergeant Major Dawson, United States Military! Is Colonel Leather there?” he
shouted as loud as he could toward the village.

“Right
behind you, Sergeant Major.”

Dawson grinned
as he turned to see Leather and his men approaching from the rear, guns raised
but now lowering. “Good thing you identified yourselves.”

Dawson
smiled, pointing behind him. Leather turned and laughed, Red’s team behind
them. His orders to sweep right had Red’s team doubling back while sweeping the
jungle for another group of attackers. He had suspected that with the north
side of the village apparently secure, any further attack would come from the
south where they were.

And with
the delay in anyone appearing, not even a celebrant, he had suspected Leather
had ordered everyone to stay in the trees while they investigated the new
arrivals.

“How’d
you know we were here?” he asked as his men rose, exchanging greetings with the
other team.

Leather
motioned toward the opening of the inlet. “Saw your boat go by, assumed it was
a third wave. Hoofed it around the inlet, across the opening then came up
behind you.”

“I had a
feeling. Your celebration got too quiet.”

“Yeah,
well, no explaining things to the locals.”

“Everything
secure?”

Leather
nodded. “Yes. And now I have to go retrieve my man.”

Dawson
frowned. “You lost one?”

“Chester.
He was our spotter. It sounds like he got jumped by the second squad.”

“I’m
sorry to hear that. We’ll secure the area so you guys can take care of business
then get some well-deserved rack time.”

“I
appreciate that, Sergeant Major.” Leather walked away with several of his men,
a solemn procession if Dawson had ever seen one. He pointed at Red.

“Team
Two, set up camp then get some sleep, we’ll wake you in four hours.” He turned
to Niner. “You and Mickey bring the boat in and unload the gear, then retrieve
the hostile’s transport and bring it back here. Search it thoroughly. I want to
know if there’s any indication as to where they came from.”

Niner
clicked his heels. “Yes’m!” Dawson raised his MP5 and Niner ran away, magic
fingers on display, Mickey in pursuit, hands up in surrender as Red’s team
helped Leather’s salvage what they could from their camp while waiting for
their gear to arrive.

“Good to
see you, Sergeant Major.”

Dawson
turned and saw the two professors approaching. Handshakes were exchanged, a hug
received from Professor Palmer. “Glad to see you two made it in one piece.”
Dawson motioned toward the bodies of the attacking force now being dragged into
the open by the natives. “How many, you figure?”

“About
two dozen,” replied Acton, “in two separate forces.”

“You got
lucky.”

Acton
nodded. “Damned lucky. If it weren’t for the help of the natives, I don’t know
if we’d have been able to hold back the second squad.”

“And we
have no idea how many more there are, and whether or not they’re on their way.”

Acton
seemed to pale slightly at his assessment. “You don’t think it’s over?”

Dawson
shook his head as he walked toward the bodies. “Two dozen men were just killed.
Someone is going to want to know how. If I were them, and I had the resources
available, I’d be sending a larger force to investigate. If they sent this many
men, they were expecting to slaughter everyone. They are determined to keep
whatever operation they have going secret.”

“This is
definitely not illegal loggers,” said Acton as Dawson knelt and peeled back the
facemask on one of the dead men. “Chinese?”

Dawson
nodded. “Based on their equipment, I’d say yes. Whether or not they were
Special Forces or not, I’d doubt it. A head on assault on the inlet was stupid.
My guess is they’re PLA or former PLA with money behind them that gives them access
to some good equipment.”

“So we
might be dealing with the Chinese military here?”

Dawson
shrugged. “Could be, but I doubt it. My guess is they wouldn’t risk the
international incident if they were found out. My guess is a private Chinese
company, tacitly or secretly supported by the Chinese government, and most likely
the Venezuelans, has set up shop just across the border, doing something
seriously illegal, and seriously profitable.”

“So now
what do we do?” asked Laura. “If we’re not safe because we know too much, how
far will they go to pursue us?”

“That’s
the sixty-four-thousand dollar question, isn’t it? My unsanctioned job, since
none of us is actually here, is to get you two, the Dean and Agent Reading to
safety.”

“What
about Terrence and Jenny? And that Turnbull guy?” Acton paused. “In fact, what
about Parker? Did you encounter the Brazilian rescue team?”

Dawson
shook his head. “Negative. We did find some debris that suggested at least one
boat, maybe two, had been recently destroyed, but no bodies. They probably
floated right by this place.”

“Jesus,”
murmured Acton. “They’ll stop at nothing.”

“So what
about my students and the environmentalists?” asked Laura, not letting the subject
be changed.

“We have
to assume they’re being held at the GPS coordinates we have for the plane
disappearing from radar. If we assume that’s their base of operations, I can
only suggest one course of action that will have the highest chance of
retrieving your people, and perhaps ending this entire situation.”

“What’s
that?” asked Acton.

“Take
the fight to them.”

Illegal Rare Earth Element Strip Mine, Northern Amazon, Venezuela

“I understand, comrade. And when can we expect reinforcements?”

“Tomorrow,
midday. We’ve sent five platoons, over one hundred men. That will bring you to
company strength.”

Dr. Chen
was pleased with the number of men being sent, but the arrival time was
problematic. It was dawn now and that meant perhaps thirty-six hours before
their arrival, with an unknown sized force as close as a few hours away. “We
have only a platoon left, along with a platoon of Venezuelans who are nearly
useless. Should whoever eliminated our men decide to attack, we may not be able
to hold.”

“That is
your problem to deal with. Should the mine fall, we will liberate it once the reinforcements
arrive.” There was a pause on the other end of the secure line. “You need to
hold until tomorrow. Do not fail us, Doctor.”

Chen
felt a shiver race up his spine. “I have no intention of failing, comrade.” The
line went dead, the conversation over. He hung up the phone and leaned back in
his chair, looking out the window at the morning sun as it began to rise,
signaling the start to another day of mining.

Only one
had apparently survived the initial attack on the village, he having been left
with the transport boat. He had radioed in, reporting heavy gunfire then the
loss of contact with both squads. Then contact was lost with him as well.

Two
dozen highly trained soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army, dead.

It had
been the most difficult report of his career. Not because he had any feelings
for these men or their families, but because it signified failure. If he were
on the other end of the line, he’d already be arranging for his successor to
arrive with the new troops, and then his execution.

He
wondered if his contact was as strict as he was? Chen knew that when the day
came for him to occupy such a position, he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate
someone like himself who had failed so miserably in dealing with this problem.

And now
the question was how to deal with the problem. He didn’t have the men to go on
the offensive again, so he’d have to take a defensive posture until the
reinforcements arrived. He found it almost impossible to believe that their
opponents would stage an attack on the mine. First they’d have to find it, then
get here and fight unknown numbers. It would be suicide with what their numbers
were. Half a dozen private security, a few academics and an ex-police officer.
He also knew the natives wouldn’t come near the place, too terrified thanks to
the intimidation tactics he had his teams employing.

This
place was cursed, anyone who dared approach never to return.

But
somehow this small ragtag group had managed to wipe out two dozen of his
country’s best. Obviously they had somehow known they were coming and laid a
trap. That was the only way they could have beaten such overwhelming odds.

But this
time things would be different. This was
his
territory. They had heavy
weapons and defensive positions surrounding the mine and the command area in
the event the natives did attempt an uprising. Hardened machine gun nests
worked equally well against ex-Special Air Services men as they did restless natives.

And no
matter what happened, victory would be assured when a company sized group of
reinforcements arrived.

We
just need to hold for less than 36 hours.

His only
concerns now were the Western hostages. He snapped his fingers and his
assistant leapt into his office.

“Get me
Ling.”