Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga (67 page)

The President frowned and waggled a hand in the air.
 
The CIA feed from Langley went dark.
 
Jane thumbed through her files and slid another folder in front of the President.
 
She tapped the folder with one well-manicured finger.
 
“There’s your new CIA director.”

“Thank you, Jayne.”
 
Suddenly the President could no longer contain his urges.
 
He stood and declared, “This meeting is over.
 
Get to work, people.”
 
He sliced his hand through the air and all the screens went dark.
 

Then Jayne was in his arms and he was fumbling at her blouse, clawing and tearing at the expensive fabric.
 
He had to have her, now.
 
She tried to be modest and cover herself with her arms.
 
But he was pulling on her clothes with an urgency that surprised even him.

The Vice President cleared her throat primly and frowned at the wanton display of lust in the War Room.
 
The President leered at her and pulled down Jayne’s bra.
 
“Stay if you want, Sandra.
 
I don’t care who knows anymore.”
 
He planted his lips on the tender skin of Jayne's neck.
 
Her gasp sent a thrill down his spine.

He heard the Vice President hastily remove herself from the room as he buried his face in Jayne’s golden mane and devoured her fragrance in deep, desperate gulps.
 
His arms encircled her writhing, athletic body and he felt like screaming in utter joy.

“We must move faster, love,” she whispered in his ear.
 
“You need to surround yourself with loyal servants, not traitors.”

“Mmmmm….yes….fire them all…pick the ones you like,” he sighed.
 
“Just come here…”

Jayne laughed, a deep, throaty, chest-gripping sound that stole the President’s breath.
 
“Oh, thank you, Mr. President,” she murmured, undressing him slowly.
 
“And now, I believe there’s the matter of a
reward
we were discussing…”

C
HAPTER
27

Salmon Falls, Idaho.

East Face of Morning Glory Peak.

C
HAD
DOUBLED
-
OVER
AND
gasped for breath.
 
He gripped a tree branch he had converted to a walking stick.
 
“How much…farther?”
 
He and Tuck had worked their way down the side of the mountain for what had seemed like hours in an attempt to reach a suitable spot for the Ranger sniper to set up shop.

“All that blood Garza took is really slowin’ you down, huh?” asked the lean Ranger, grinning through his face paint.
 
The whites of his teeth and eyes were in stark contrast to the green and brown patterns smeared on his face.
 
His ghillie suit had been modified with bits of greenery and dried grass as they walked, so that now Chad was afraid if Tuck stopped moving, he’d lose sight of the man.

Chad leaned against a pine tree to catch his breath.
 
He started to see spots.
 
“He took…he took a lot…” he wheezed.
 
The bloodletting had been worth it though, to avoid being snatched into the air by the passing cargo plane.
 
Chad had witnessed the pick-up an hour earlier—the thought that
he
had originally been the intended victim for
that
little adventure made his stomach turn.

They had prepared for the Skyhook near the Park Ranger Station, so as Chad ate a few desserts from MRE’s to get his blood sugar levels back up, he was able to sit in the shade and watch the action.
 
Captain Alston was particularly excited, he explained, because he had never seen a Skyhook procedure in action.
 
It was like watching the past come alive, he had told Chad with a smile.
 
Chad still wondered if the good Captain would have been that excited had it been
him
going up in the air instead of a duct tape-wrapped cooler of blood.

Chad thought it was interesting to watch and believed it would have been change-your-pants terrifying had
he
taken part.
 
They stood around waiting for the hum of the big airplane for about a half hour before one of the helicopter pilots, the blond that always scowled at Chad, said she heard it in the distance.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a bird-like shape appeared around the side of a nearby mountain to the southwest.
 
It grew larger and louder until it passed right overhead with the ear-splitting roar of four huge turbo-prop engines.
 
It had been bigger than Chad had expected and slower.
 
A large rectangular box popped out the rear of the cargo plane and dropped a few hundred feet tethered to a bright orange parachute.
 
Three of the Rangers had scrambled over and dragged it back to camp.
 

“The clock is ticking, people!” Captain Alston had said as he checked his watch.
 
Chad remembered how he’d called out each minute as the time slipped away before the plane would circle back for the pickup, staying on the opposite side of the mountain from Salmon Falls to avoid any Russian SAM sites.
 

As he had rested against a sun-warmed boulder on the north shore of U.P. Lake, Chad had watched the Rangers assemble and inflate the pick-up rig and giant, dirigible-shaped balloon.
 
At the same time, the vials containing his precious, freshly-drawn blood were packed and attached to the rig as securely as possible.
 
Everything was ready by the time the helium tank had been exhausted.
 
By then, the Rangers strained against the ropes to hold the balloon under cover.
 

 
“
On final approach
,” called out the plane’s pilot.
 
It was the only contact they had during the entire operation.

“Let it go!” the Captain had said.
 
The Rangers and Apache pilots released the guide lines holding the balloon and it shot into the sky, sailing up and over the surrounding trees in seconds.
 
Someone had looped the thick main line loosely around a large rock to keep the balloon from disappearing into the sky.
 
The little pack of blood vials was nowhere near heavy enough to stabilize everything.
 
It had been designed, Chad pondered nervously, to carry a man or two.

The roar of the plane returned, lower and slower now, just above the trees.
 
The Rangers hooted and hollered as it grew near.
 
Chad gritted his teeth as he felt his ribcage rattle in time with the rumble of those big engines.
 
It was a most unnerving feeling.
 
Like someone was shaking him from the inside.
 
How the Rangers
enjoyed
it was beyond his understanding.

Then the big plane appeared over the trees, blotting out the sun.
 
The rope looped around the rock suddenly went taut and began kicking up dust as it shot into the sky.
 
The little package of vials lifted smoothly up and vanished above the trees in less than two seconds.
 
Chad felt his stomach drop in a wave of vertigo, just imagining that he had been standing there as the plane flew over and picked him up.

And then it was over.
 
The plane rumbled on downslope, turned the corner of the mountain and was gone from sight.
 
In another minute, the echo of its massive engines died out there was nothing but the loud protests of one very pissed-off magpie screeching at the humans who had wrecked its daily routine.

“Stay with me, sir…”
 
The sniper’s voice pulled Chad out of his dreamlike trance.

He blinked back the spots that threatened to choke off his vision. “I’m okay…how much…” he took a deep breath and the spots vanished.
 
“How much farther?”

“Just there by that little rise.
 
We’ll set up next to the boulder there by that tree.
 
See it?”

Chad squinted in the morning light.
 
“Yeah…yeah, I think so.”

It took another ten minutes for Chad to make his way gingerly through the underbrush and make it to the position Tuck had indicated.
 
He collapsed next to the sniper, panting and wheezing but proud that he had made it and would be contributing to the effort to liberate the besieged town.

Tuck checked his watch.
 
"Any minute now, they'll be checking in with us."
 
He glanced out over the town, about half a mile downslope.
 
"Nice clean angles, good concealment.
 
We got us a
hide
, sir."

"
Overwatch, Striker 2 actual.
 
We're in position.
 
You ready?
"

Tuck squeezed his throat mic twice.

The earbud in Chad’s ear broke squelch again.
 
"
Valkyrie, Striker 2, Actual.
 
We are go."

Tuck uncapped the scope on his long rifle and settled in the space between the boulder and the leaning pine tree.
 
When he stopped adjusting his gear, the sniper was nearly invisible, even from only a few feet away.
 

"Set up your spotting scope and let's get some practice in while we wait for the fireworks."

Chad gratefully removed his backpack and sat on the ground.
 
He unpacked a small telescope and set up the tripod like had been shown.
 
He settled to the side of the boulder and got comfortable.
 
"Okay...I'm set," he whispered.

"Good, now see that blue house on the edge of town down there?" Tuck said quietly.

"Uh...yeah, there it is...hey!"

"
Ssssh!!!"

"Sorry...I can see Captain Alston and Sgt. Garza..." Chad whispered.

"Good.
 
Just remember we may not be the only snipers out here.
 
If Ivan is smart he'll have patrols combing this area.
 
So we need to stay low, quiet, and most importantly, as still as possible—at all times.
 
Got it?"

“Got it,” Chad whispered.
 
He thought he heard a sound echo off the mountains around them.
 
"You hear that?" he whispered.

Tuck listened.
 
"Yup.
 
Apaches must have dusted off.”
 
Tuck checked his watch.
 
“Well, we ate up more time than I wanted getting here…”

“Sorry,” said Chad.

“No worries, sir.
 
Gonna get interesting real quick."

“Look!” said Chad, a bit too loud.

“I see, them,” hissed Tuck.
 
“Gotta stay quiet, man.”

Chad watched in excited silence as the smoke trails from more than a dozen missiles streaked around the side of the mountain and dropped down into the tow.
 
The missiles themselves were too fast and too far away for Chad to see them in his spotting scope, but he did see their impacts.
 
Bright balls of orange erupted where the missiles found their targets, producing clouds of smoke and flying bits of debris.
 
It took a second for the sound of the explosions to rumble over Chad and Tuck.

“I’m getting a negative reading on the SAM radar, Actual,” reported Tuck.

“
Roger that
.
 
Valkyrie Lead, Hammer 2, Actual.
 
Overwatch reports negative SAM signature, how copy?”

“Something’s not right,” muttered Tuck.
 
“Check out the northwest corner of town.”

Chad swung the spotting scope to the left and focused where instructed.
 
“I got a bunch of Russians running between houses…looks like there’s a tank or something sitting in that backyard...”

“I’m keeping track of our people…there’s no movement on the south end of town.
 
That tank you see—does it have missiles?”