Behind Enemy Lines (26 page)

Hate glinted in his eyes, and Annie stared into the face of Death incarnate.

He was going to shoot her, and nobody else would be able to fly this bird out of here. The whole team was going to die because she went and got herself killed.

And then there was a flash of steel under the soldier’s chin. A fountain of blood sprayed all over the inside of the cockpit. Its warm wetness splashed her face and she tasted blood.

The soldier’s body fell aside, and Tom stood in his place. He leaped into the cockpit, shouting, “Let’s go!”

Annie was pulling back on the collective before he even closed his door.

“Strap in,” she ordered. “And close that door back there, guys. This is gonna get rough, and I don’t want to dump any of you out.”

Her own door wouldn’t latch, but she’d taken a precious few seconds to buckle herself in already.

Ping, ping.

Bullets ripped through the floor.

Annie slammed the throttle forward, and the helicopter picked up speed. Its tail tilted up sharply as she flung the craft forward, barely clearing the airplanes below her.

The ground skimmed past in a dizzying blur as the helicopter’s engine screamed. She shoved the throttles all the way to the forward stop, not caring if she oversped the engine.

The airport fell behind in a matter of seconds, and she yanked up hard to clear a treeline that rushed toward them at 150 miles per hour.

“God, Annie, that was close,” Tom gasped as the trees flew past barely beneath their feet.

“I know how to fly, Tom.”

He leaned back in the seat. “Thank God for that.”

“Where to?”

“North. The
U.S.S. Independence
is twelve miles offshore. I don’t know exactly where, but we ought to be able to find an aircraft carrier, don’t you think?”

Annie banked the helicopter to the left and started a lazy 180-degree turn that carried them well wide of the airport and toward safety.

She commented, “I’ll crank up the radios and get the Navy to vector us in.”

She didn’t know the standard Navy frequencies, so she tuned the VHF radio to a general emergency frequency.

Chatter abruptly filled the cockpit.

It was American voices. Panicked ones. Yelling about their position being overrun by rebels. Screaming for help.

Tom picked up the microphone.

“Unknown rider, unknown rider, identify yourself. This is Major Tom Folly of the United States Air Force.”

“This is U.S. Marine Squad Delta Tango. We’re getting the snot shot out of us! We’re outgunned and outnumbered ten to one.”

Annie gasped. “That’s the marine detachment at the American Embassy!”

“Say your location, Delta Tango,” Tom ordered tersely.

“We’re on the roof of the American embassy in St. George. We’ve got some sandbags and furniture up here for cover, but they’re about to come through the emergency hatch on to the roof. We’re done once they get up here with us.”

Annie looked over at Tom.

“How long?” he asked.

She didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. She glanced outside for reference points to orient herself.

“Five, maybe six minutes, at top speed.”

“Firewall it.”

Annie nodded and shoved the throttle all the way forward again. She banked hard back in the direction they’d just come from and flew like a bat out of hell across the treetops.

Tom transmitted to the marine, “We’ll be at your position in five minutes. Conserve your ammo and hang on. We’re about to even the odds for you.”

The voice answered, “If you don’t mind my asking, just who in the hell are you, sir?”

“Special Forces. We’ll be coming in on a Gavronese Army painted Huey…” He released the mike button. “What’s the tail number, Annie?”

“Four Five November Yankee.”

“…on a Gavronese helicopter, tail number Four Five November Yankee,” Tom finished.

“Roger. We’ll be glad for the assist.”

Tom keyed his throat mike to his men in the back. “You guys copy what’s up?”

“Yes, sir,” Tex answered. “We’re loading up. There’s a nice little fifty-caliber machine gun back here with a crate of clips, compliments of the Gavronese Army.”

Annie breathed a sigh of relief at that news. Tom and his men had to be getting way low on ammunition after the gun battle back at the airport.

Tom looked over at her. “Have you ever practiced combat maneuvers in one of these things?”

“I’m familiar with the basic idea. Run parallel to the threat so the gunner can do his thing out the side door. Any of your guys ever work out of a helicopter with a machine gun?”

“Standard issue training for us.”

She grinned. “I sure am glad you guys are on my side.”

He grinned back. “Let’s go rescue us some marines.”

She streaked across St. George, painfully aware that every second was crucial. She took more than a few risks, but she got there in five minutes and ten seconds.

The embassy was hard to miss. As they neared the building, a column of black smoke rose from the residence building next door.

“The bastards are trying to burn the marines out,” Tom growled.

“The main building’s stone. They’ll have a hard time lighting it up,” Annie replied.

“Excellent.” Tom voice was steady, reassuring. “Here we go, guys. Get the fifty-cal ready back there.”

The back door slid open, and Howdy swung out the door in a gunner’s harness.

“Bank it up,” Tom directed her.

Annie slowed the craft and banked toward her open door, giving Howdy the best possible angle to shoot from. The helicopter shuddered as he loosed a barrage of lead at the rebels surrounding the embassy building.

Initially the soldiers scattered and ran every which way, unsure of where the hail of bullets was coming from. Annie flew a 360 around the building.

“Better get over the roof, Annie. They’ll start shooting back any second,” Tom directed.

She did as he suggested. A handful of marines waved wildly as she brought the Huey to a hover over the far side of the building from them. She didn’t want her downwash to blow any of the marines off the roof.

“Set it down, angel.”

She landed quickly but gently.

Tom and his men leaped out, ducking under the rotor and heading for the marine position. Annie watched as a short conversation ensued. Tom’s voice came up on her earphone.

“How many men can we get in that bird, Annie?”

She glanced back at the cargo space and calculated her maximum possible takeoff weight fast. “Fourteen, if they’re all gonna die if I don’t pull them out.”

“There are sixteen people here including me and my guys.”

Annie’s heart dropped. “Sorry, Tom. Fourteen’s gonna be pushing it as it is.”

“Understood.”

Oh, Lord. Was she going to have to leave people behind to die? Again? The thought made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.

And then something odd caught her attention. The marines and Tom’s men were shedding their weapons and laying them down in a neat row in the makeshift sandbag bunker. What in the world were they doing?

And then, the soldiers sprinted in her direction. A single man in a white dress shirt and gray slacks caught her attention as he stood up from behind the sandbags.

Good grief, it was Ambassador Kettering. What was
he
still doing here?

Tom and the ambassador ran up to her door while Tom’s men tossed out the fifty caliber gun and ammo and herded the others into the back of her bird.

“Captain O’Donnell. So glad you could join us!”

She nodded back at the ambassador.

Tom shouted over the noise of the helicopter, “The ambassador and I will be staying behind. Take the rest of them out to the
Independence.
”

Horror filled Annie.
No. Not Tom.
She couldn’t leave him again. She wouldn’t!

“Tom, I can’t!”

“Yes, you can, Annie. It’s the two of us or all of them. This is the way it has to be.”

“No!” she screamed over the noise of the helicopter.

“This is an order, angel. Get those men out of here.”

The nightmare was repeating itself. Time slowed around her as disbelief turned to shock. “No-o-o,” she moaned.

Tom leaned through her open door and grabbed her shoulders. “Listen to me, Annie. We’ve got a decent arsenal up here, and we’ll be able to hold them off for a while. Maybe long enough to negotiate a surrender. I don’t think they’ll kill Ambassador Kettering if they realize who he is.”

Annie appealed to the silver-haired gentleman in question. “Don’t do this, sir! It’s suicide.”

He nodded resolutely. “You’re probably right, young lady. But just as a captain’s place is with his sinking ship, this is my post. This is American soil, and by God, I’m not handing it over to anybody without a fight. The major and I will let these bastards know they’ve had a tough time before we go down. Now you go on and get those boys out of here.”

She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Tom…”

“Honey, you need to leave. We’ll buy you enough time to get out of here.”

Tears streamed down her face. “Tom, I can’t leave you again. I love you!”

“I know, angel. Now go on.”

Tom and the ambassador backed away from her toward the makeshift bunker that had been set up around the flagpole.

Sobbing so hard she could barely see, Annie eased back gently on the controls. The helicopter groaned as it struggled to lift the weight of all the souls onboard.

Inch by bare inch, she lifted away from the ground.

She looked back to see Tom arming himself with an array of weapons while the ambassador stood ramrod straight beside him. The rotor wash caught the American flag on the pole beside the two men and whipped it around their legs.

Without warning, Tom snapped to attention, and threw her a full-blown military salute while Old Glory’s stars and stripes wrapped themselves around him.

She saluted back as tears streamed down her face. Her heart was breaking in two. She finally gained enough altitude to bank away. She took one last look down at Tom—her own private hero.

He lifted his hand in a final wave of farewell and mouthed the words, “I love you.”

Moaning in agony, Annie banked away and accelerated into the morning sun.

She pushed the helicopter to the very limits of its performance and raced north as if the Devil himself was nipping at her heels.

She blatantly ignored the Navy air traffic controller’s repeated requests to slow down her approach to the
Independence,
and she flung her craft to the deck of the ship with reckless abandon.

Her passengers, who’d been packed in like sardines, tumbled out the door the second it was opened. A flight-deck officer pulled open her damaged door.

“Welcome aboard, Captain O’Donnell. Congratula—”

“Back up, sir.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Stand clear, sir. I’m taking off again.”

“You’re what? You don’t have clearance to do that!”

“I don’t recall asking for clearance!” she shouted back over the roar of her engine. She checked her gauges and throttled up.

Another voice shouted over the radio. “Captain, you are ordered to shut down. You do not have takeoff clearance.”

She picked up the microphone. “Well then, with all due respect, you better give it to me fast. I left Ambassador Kettering and the man I love behind at the American Embassy, and I’m going back for them.”

“This is an order, Captain—”

She turned off the radio.

Flight-deck crewmen scattered all over as she lifted off unexpectedly. She backed the helicopter away from the conning tower and, as soon as she was clear, banked hard left.

“One more time, baby,” she coaxed the helicopter as she pushed the engine well beyond its design limits yet again.

She flew high enough to keep salt spray from fouling the engine, but as soon as she hit the coast, she dropped down to treetop level again.

A strange calm came over her. There was no more fear, no more questioning of right and wrong. She was not leaving Tom behind. They lived or died together, and that’s all there was to it.

She did have the presence of mind to swing wide and approach the embassy from the opposite side this time. There was no sense getting shot down because she was too panicked to think straight.

She was horrified as the building came into sight. Soldiers in red berets were scaling the sides of the embassy itself on ropes.

But then the implications of that dawned on her. Tom and the ambassador hadn’t been killed yet!

Exultation shot through her.

She could do a little something about those rebels on the ropes. She positioned the helicopter over the edge of the building, then she pulled back hard on the collective and hit the throttle simultaneously. The helicopter leaped straight up in the air and sent a tremendous surge of wind downward at close to two hundred miles per hour. She banked for a second to see the effect of her maneuver.

A bunch of guys in red berets sprawled on the ground like dead ants.

She repeated the maneuver on the other side of the building.

She glanced quickly toward the makeshift bunker on the roof, looking for any signs of movement, but she saw none. Smoke obscured too much of the view, and she was too occupied trying not to hit the flagpole to take a better look.

At least the immediate threat to anyone still on the roof had subsided for a minute or two. That ought to be all she’d need to find Tom, dead or alive. She landed as near the flagpole as she dared and leaped out of the cockpit, leaving the engine running.

She sprinted across the open space. A hail of bullets flew at her from a neighboring rooftop, and she zigzagged at a dead run while firing her pistol over her shoulder, just like she’d seen Tom do.

The sandbags loomed before her. She took a running leap and prayed she didn’t land on Tom and squash him.

She landed beside him.

He was covered in blood from head to foot. The ambassador leaned over him, pressing down hard on a wound to Tom’s thigh, and on another high on Tom’s chest.

“Oh, God. Don’t tell me I’m too late.”