Black Dragon, page 31
The guards covering Jackson, Atsuko, and Daniel heard the automatic weapons fire. They both made a move to bring up their weapons when the lights around them went out.
For a large man, Jackson was deceiving; incredibly fast on his feet, he could take down a man before he knew what was going on. He grabbed his car keys off the table and held them firm in his hand as he flew from his seat. He reached out and grabbed hold of the nearest guard. Without hesitating, he thrust a key as hard as he could into his neck. Like a fountain, blood erupted from the man’s mortal wound. Before the other guard could even react, Jackson let go of the dying guard, took hold of the man’s weapon, and fired a quick burst into the other guard’s chest, killing him. Spinning about, he grabbed Daniel by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to the ground. Atsuko was already diving for the ground when Jackson flipped over their table, intending to use it to shield Daniel and Atsuko from view. Dropping to one knee, Jackson took deliberate aim at one of the guards covering the North Koreans, dropping him with one well-aimed shot to the head. The sound of Jackson’s firefight echoed through the cavern.
Tara saw, out of the corner of her eye, one of Cypher’s men guarding the North Koreans drop. With a snarl on her lips, she let go of the machine pistol and swept a foot under Mitchell’s feet, sending him tumbling to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sharply turning on her heels, she sprinted back toward the derrick and Gabriel Cypher. She had to protect him. In her mind, her life meant nothing compared to his.
With everyone’s attention fixed on Jackson, Sam edged out from behind the generator, just as he cut down one of the men covering the Koreans. Quickly deciding that she should add to the mayhem, Sam brought down another guard before ducking back behind the generator.
As another guard fell, Colonel Hwan knew that it was time to act. He called out to his men to rush the remainder of the guards. Four men fell under the withering scythe of automatic gunfire before the desperate North Koreans could overwhelm the two remaining guards covering them. Ordering his men to arm themselves, Hwan and his men took cover where they could amongst the rocks and began to fire onto Cypher’s men huddled at the base of the stairs on the opposite side of the cave.
Mitchell took in a deep breath of air. His lungs felt like they were on fire. The crescendo of gunfire ricocheting off the cavern walls was all around him. He dashed for Jackson’s overturned table, dove over it, and rolled over on his shoulder. He saw Daniel and Atsuko lying on the ground with their hands over their heads.
“You didn’t say anything about having to break out from a cave,” said Jackson as he tossed Mitchell one of the dead guards’ carbines.
Mitchell checked that there was a round in the chamber. “No one said it was going to be easy.”
Jackson let off a quick burst, dropping a guard trying to make his way in the gloom toward Sam’s hiding spot.
“Okay, what’s the skinny?” asked Mitchell.
“You’re gonna love it. We’ve got a real Mexican standoff happening here. The North Koreans have taken up a position off to our left among the rocks while Cypher’s men are using the machinery at the bottom of the stairs for cover. And of course, there’s us in the middle with Sam a few meters away using a generator to hide behind.”
Mitchell popped his head up and took a quick look around. “Forget the Koreans. Our real enemy here is Cypher’s goons. They are keeping the stairs open so he can escape when the time comes.”
Bullets tore into the rock behind their position, showering Jackson and Mitchell with bits of rocky debris. Mitchell brought up his carbine into his shoulder and with a smirk on his face shot down Cypher’s blonde-haired thug as he tried to sneak up on their makeshift potion.
Jackson placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Keep your head down. We’ll soon be out of here.”
“If you say so, Dad,” replied Daniel, wishing that he was anywhere else in the world but the cavern.
Crawling over to the body of the guard Jackson had killed with his keys, he first rummaged around under the man’s jacket until he found a fresh magazine. Jackson then reached over and pulled his keys out of the bloody wound. He wiped the blood-soaked keys on his pants before moving over by his son. He pressed a small button on the side of a remote starter. A skeleton key sprung out. While Mitchell kept the guards engaged, Jackson worked to open the handcuffs on Daniel’s wrists. After less than five seconds’ work, the handcuffs slipped free. After ordering his son to keep down, Jackson popped up beside Mitchell and let loose a burst into the general area of the stairs where the guards were holed up. If he didn’t hit anyone, he reasoned that he could keep their heads down for a while until Mitchell figured a way out.
With a bitter shake of his head, Mitchell could see that the fight was too one-sided. There were at least twice as many of Cypher’s men as there were North Koreans. The sounds of battle were deafening inside the cavern, as men sought to kill one another in order to survive, even if it were for only a few more minutes of precious life. The rate of fire from the Koreans’ position was beginning to slacken as more men fell under the withering fire of the guards. Mitchell knew that it wouldn’t be long before the guards gained the upper hand completely. He had to find a way to even the odds. He glanced around. A plan sprung to life in Mitchell’s mind like a light switch being turned on.
“Cover me,” said Mitchell to Jackson as he darted from behind their cover, weaving from side to side, dodging gunfire as he quickly made his way over to a worktable covered in tools.
Coming to a sliding halt underneath the table, Mitchell got up on one knee and quickly took stock of what was on the table. When he saw nothing but tools and little else of value to make an expedient bomb, Mitchell swore under his breath. He turned around and pushed several empty crates aside as he desperately looked for something to use. He was growing worried when he saw the answer to his prayers. Sitting on a trolley was a half-full bag of ANFO.
Used in mining, Mitchell surmised that the North Koreans who built the derrick must have used it in small quantities to clear away the stalactites from around the area where they were working. He reached back up onto the table and grabbed everything he could and then jammed it deep inside the bag of ANFO.
He pulled open a sealed wooden crate lying on the ground beside the trolley and found blasting caps and det-cord. He quickly cut a small piece of det-cord, jammed it into the blasting cap and then placed the cap inside the expedient bomb. Not being a smoker, Mitchell never carried a lighter on him. He crawled back to the table and rummaged around until he found a pack of matches. Thank God, the Koreans were heavy smokers, flashed through Mitchell’s mind as he crawled back over to his homemade bomb. Moving the trolley as quietly as he could through the shadows until he could see a group of guards firing away at the Koreans, Mitchell got down on one knee, lit the fuse, and then pushed the trolley as hard as he could toward his target.
He threw himself to the ground. Mitchell started to count back from ten in his mind. He only got as far as four when his bomb detonated in an ear-shattering explosion. Jagged pieces of metal and tools flew through the air. The four closest thugs to the blast were cut down in the blink of an eye, torn to bloody shreds by the flying debris. Several more men farther back received shrapnel wounds to their upper bodies; none regrettably were wounded enough to quit fighting.
Mitchell saw that his bomb had evened things out a bit. He scurried back on all fours and quickly disappeared from view, hidden in the shadows. He made his way back to Jackson and saw that his friend was running low on ammunition. No one, the guards included, had expected a long firefight.
“We can’t keep this up much longer,” said Jackson, conserving his ammo.
“I know,” observed Mitchell.
Mitchell placed a hand on Atsuko’s shoulder. “What is Cypher doing? Why hasn’t he tried to make a run for it while he still can?”
Atsuko looked up into Mitchell’s blue-gray eyes. She took a breath to calm her racing heart. “He’s programming the detonation sequence into the bomb. Normally, this takes several minutes to accomplish.”
“Then we still have time.”
“Time to do what?” said Jackson.
“To stop him from setting off that bomb and killing thousands of innocent people,” said Mitchell firmly.
“Just how the hell are you going to get to him? You’d never make it across the open ground before being cut down.”
“Sam got in here, there has to be a way around. You stay with Daniel and Atsuko. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Before Jackson could open his mouth, Mitchell was on the move, sprinting over to where Sam was hiding.
“Damn fool’s gonna get himself killed,” muttered Jackson to himself. He was about to tell Atsuko to crawl back a bit and take cover behind a large boulder when she reached over, grabbed the discarded handcuffs off the ground, and then like a sprinter she ran after Mitchell.
“Well, if no one else will, you’re going to listen to me,” said Jackson as he took hold of Daniel by the arm and pulled him back behind a tall boulder. He peered into the dark and watched powerlessly as Mitchell, closely followed by Atsuko, made their way over to Sam. He wanted to help his friends; however, today his responsibility was to his son. Jackson ejected the magazine from his carbine, and looked down. He had less than ten rounds left. He placed his weapon on repetition. He knew that from now on every shot had to count until he could find another source of ammunition—before they were overrun and killed.
48
The farm
Sheriff “Red” Thomas was relieved to see a small column of police cars speeding toward him, when a shadow, like that of a giant bird of prey, flew right over top of him. He glanced up and saw a large, dark gray helicopter dive down out of the sky, heading straight for Farragut’s farmhouse. Red stared up at the helicopter. He didn’t recognize it as any military or police helicopter that he was used to seeing. For a few seconds, it hovered over the house, before effortlessly banking over and then flying straight for his parked cruiser.
His blood turned cold—it was coming for him.
He turned and threw himself into a ditch beside the road. Red had just covered his head with his hands when the world around him exploded.
Fifty-caliber bullets fired by a door gunner tore into the police cruiser, poking holes in it like Swiss cheese. In seconds, the car was a smoldering wreck. Shards of glass and jagged pieces of metal littered the ground.
Red swore as the chopper turned in the air and then flew down the road straight at the police cars. Scrambling up onto his feet, Red tried to find his Motorola. He found it lying among the debris. He snatched it up off the ground and brought it to his lips just as the chopper opened fire. With a look of horror and disgust on his face, he watched as the helicopter flew right over the top of the cruisers blasting away into the roofs of the cars. Cars exploded or swerved off the road as they were mercilessly fired upon. Pirouetting in the air, the helicopter turned about and began another run over the doomed cars. He gritted his teeth. Red knew that it would be a miracle if anyone survived the deadly onslaught. Reaching for his pistol, he felt numb. If he was going to die, he intended to do so on his feet.
From out of nowhere, another helicopter appeared, flying low over the top of Farragut’s farm. Red saw that it was an all-white twin Huey helicopter with its side doors open. His gut told him that it wasn’t with the other helicopter. He let out a loud whoop of joy and watched in rapt fascination as the Huey raced head-on toward the other helicopter. Like a pair of armor-clad knights at a medieval tournament, the two helicopters charged unflinchingly at each other.
Strapped into his seat, with his Barrett sniper rifle suspended from the roof of the helicopter, Cardinal pulled the rifle in tight to his left shoulder and took aim. He knew that he would have less than a second to engage his target as it flew past. They may have broken his right-hand trigger finger, but he was ambidextrous. Right or left, it didn’t matter to Cardinal, he was deadly on either side.
“Get ready,” said Yuri into Cardinal’s headset as he banked their helicopter over slightly.
The chopper dipped slightly to avoid the other helicopter. Cardinal adjusted his aim, took up the slack on his trigger, and held his breath. Barely a second later, the dark gray helicopter seemed to block out the sky as it flew past, the propeller blades from both helicopters missing the other by mere meters.
Cardinal spotted his target, pulled back on the trigger, and felt the force of the recoil in his left shoulder as an armor-piercing bullet shot out of the barrel of his sniper rifle. It hit the door gunner square in the chest, tearing him in two. The bullet kept going, hitting the gunner on the other side of the helicopter in the back, sending him flying out into the air, his dead body tumbling down to the ground.
“Got them,” reported Cardinal calmly over his headset.
“Good, now let’s go hunting,” replied Yuri, banking his helicopter over hard right. The chopper’s blades missed the ground by millimeters.
A few seconds later, he was behind the other helicopter as it dove for the ground, trying to evade them. His Huey may have been more maneuverable in the air, but the other helicopter had a far more powerful engine. If he was going to bring their opponent down, it had to be now. Banking left slightly, Yuri applied more power to the engine.
“Gordon, I’m going to try and come up on their left side. You need to cripple their engine,” said Yuri.
Cardinal didn’t respond. Moving about on his canvas seat, he leaned out the open door, trying to get a better sight picture though his sniper scope.
The other pilot seemed to sense the move and pulled up on his stick. Like an eagle, the helicopter turned and raced up into azure sky.
Cursing, Yuri followed.
Below, Red watched with rapt fascination as the deadly aerial ballet unfolded above his head.
As if lost in a trance, Cardinal didn’t feel the change in the direction of the Huey as it clawed its way skyward. Taking a couple of deep breaths to fill his lungs and calm himself before taking the shot, Cardinal’s attention was solely focused on the engine compartment of the other helicopter.
Realizing that he was being hunted, the escaping helicopter pilot decided that he had had enough. He peered over his shoulder and saw the Huey still pursuing. The pilot decided to dive for the ground and then use his helicopter’s speed to escape. With any other flight crew, his maneuver may have worked, but not against Yuri and Cardinal.
Seeing his opponent begin to dive out of the sky, Yuri pushed his stick forward and, like a bloodhound on the trail of an escaping criminal, he chased after the other helicopter. A second later, a smile crept across his unshaven face. The other helicopter may have been faster, but he was now flying slightly above it as it dove for the ground.
Cardinal leaned as far out of his out of his seat as he could, took dead aim and then pulled the trigger. In the blink of an eye, the engine compartment on the other helicopter exploded, killing the engine. Sitting back in his seat, Cardinal watched emotionlessly as their opponent struggled for a moment to stay aloft before falling from the sky. A few seconds later, trailing thick black smoke from its crippled engine, the doomed helicopter hit the ground, erupting in a brilliant fireball.
“Good shot,” said Yuri. “Now let’s see if we can see Mitchell and Jackson by that farm.”
“Sounds good,” replied Cardinal. He leaned forward in his seat, trying to see if he could spot his friends somewhere down below among the cars and other junk parked behind the farmhouse, when he saw a bright flash from below. His stomach jumped up into his throat when he realized that someone had just fired an air-to-ground missile at them.
“Bank left and dive for the ground,” screamed Cardinal into his headset.
Yuri knew better than to ask questions. Acting on pure instinct, he banked the Huey over and dove for the ground.
Hanging on to whatever he could, Cardinal watched as the missile streaked past the side of the helicopter.
“Jesus, that was close,” muttered Cardinal. “Yuri, get me on the ground, I’ve got some people to hunt.”
Like a stone falling from the sky, Yuri brought the helicopter to the ground. In a flash, Cardinal was out of his seat, his sniper rifle held tight in his arms. His right hand was bandaged up and still hurt like hell. Ignoring the pain, he dashed over to a tall bush, went to ground, and then brought up his scope. He moved slowly, trying to see where the missile had come from. Behind him, Yuri, flying a meter off the ground, made his way over the burning police cars to see if he could help.
“Come on, show yourself,” said Cardinal to himself as he watched the ground behind the farm. Unlike his opponents, Cardinal was used to waiting. They would show themselves . . . they always did and when they did, he intended to make them pay for what had happened to the helpless local police.
49
The bomb
Mitchell ducked behind the generator Sam was using for cover just as a burst of automatic gunfire struck the machine. Sparks flew as the rounds easily punctured the outer shell of the generator. A second later, it coughed and spluttered loudly before shutting down. More lights in the middle of the cavern switched off, plunging the area into darkness.
“What took you so long?” Sam asked Mitchell.
“I had to take care of some goons first.”
Sliding to a halt, Atsuko joined Mitchell and Sam.
