Encrypted (63 page)

Keeping both eyes open, he tracked the second missile and fired. It spun on it
s
axis
,
narrowly missing the chopper before disappearing over the edge of the cliff. After pumping another shot, he turned to the third streaking toward them. Only this one came from the
other
side of the chopper.

“Ronnie!”

She looked up from her task to see the problem. If he shot, the chopper would be caught in the EM pulse. And as the helicopter bucked up and down and sideways, how could he get
to
the other side?

“Hit the deck!” she yelled back.

Zach didn’t understand what she meant until he did as requested. Once on the ground
,
he realized what she meant. He might not be able to shoot over or around the helicopter, but under? Under
,
he could do. Zach fired a third time, sending the missile off into the woods to unleash its destruction.

Not having time to rise, Zach rolled to his left, target
ing
another incoming missile.

Four down. Two to go.

* * *

Ronnie tilted the gopher, trying to get the damned thing to work. Their hybrid ground penetrating radar and electronic disrupter was not fairing well in its first field test. She could see the hook’s controlling mechanism beneath about three fee
t of dirt. Could she disrupt it?
No
.

She tried everything. Using energy bursts. Low
-
frequency modulation. Even a high pitched sound blast, yet those damn hooks still held the helicopter in thrall. Inside the craft
,
she could see the pilot struggling and Quirk hanging on for dear life in the co-pilot’s seat.

Nothing was
happening
as
it was supposed to. And it was all her fault.
Again
.

She’d underestimated
Lino
. She should have known that he would know the best place to land for a frontal assault. Okay, so maybe the whole magnetized hooks
thing
she shouldn’t feel bad about missing, but
still.
If she didn’t get ahead of the curve…

Zach dashed past her
,
setting up for his next shot. As she jangled the gopher’s controls, trying to wake
it
up, Ronnie watched the FBI agent aim. His posture was filled with intent. Muscles tightened. Eyes squinted
,
he was a chiseled hero through and through. No wonder his body temperature ran at ninety-eight point nine degrees.

He fired and hit his mark true. The fifth missile lurched once
,
and
then fell out of the sky, exploding “harmlessly” on the grass.

The joystick jiggled under her touch. The
gopher
had caught onto one of the hook’s controls. Almost wishing the damn thing
were
a real gopher
that
could chew through the damn wiring, Ronnie urged the machine to sever the line’s connection.

“Ronnie!” She turned to find Zach flexing his bicep, pumping the rifle,
and
then firing
—
to no avail. “It stopped working.”

No, it didn’t stop working. They just ran into the “when will
w
e ever need more than five EM pulses?” phenomen
on
. Which meant
that
the helicopter was a sitting duck.

Unless she could get the gopher to do its job, the pilot and Quirk were dead.

* * *

Quirk clung to the seat as the
brave
st
man in the world tried to save their lives. Damn Ronnie and her cost
-
cutting “Rule of 5” EM pulses. In the real world it turned out the enemy had no such limitation.

He could see the strength in the pilot’s arms as he tried to physically wrestle the helicopter from the clutches of the steel hooks. The missile bore down on them. Not that Quirk hadn’t felt like he had a bull’s
-
eye on him for the past twenty-four hours
;
now
,
he felt
as though
he had one painted on his chest.

The red
-
tipped bomb on wings headed
right for them
dead on. There would be no riding parallel or countermeasures or
—

Suddenly
,
the helicopter careened sideways as a hook
sheared
off. Then
,
another let loose. The pilot hit the stick
,
shooting the chopper straight into the air. The missile cruised right beneath them but did not seem fooled as it turned, arcing back around, honing in on them.

Quirk grabbed hold of the seat as the chopper nearly dropped from the sky, recovering just inches from the ground
—
where
,
by the way, those stupid hooks were still fishing around for some railings.

“Um. Up and at
’
em
?” Quirk suggested
,
never wanting his pilot to feel pressured or anything.

The chopper swooped sideways
and
then back again
,
like some four
-
square dancer. Then back again. Then
,
it
finally angled forward
,
racing barely above the grassy meadow.

“Did we get hit by an EM blast?” Quirk asked, pulling out his equipment. “I can
—
”

“No,” the pilot grunted as he jerked the helicopter to the right,
compensating for a gust of gale-
force wind.

“Then what?”

The pilot looked over at him with a tight frown. “We’re out of gas.”

* * *

Ronnie watched as the helicopter seemed to hiccup, gaining altitude just before it dropped past the cliff. The missile had no such hesitation as it followed. The sound of the blast rose above the wind
,
and the horizon glowed red.

“Quirk!” Ronnie yelled as Zach grabbed her arm, pulling her back. She hit her earpiece, cycling through the frequencies. “Quirk. Pilot. Anyone?”

“You thought to challenge God’s will?” a cool, serpentine voice answered.

As tears mixed with rain, Ronnie steadied her voice before she answered
Lino
.
“You
betcha
.”

“Don’t let him get in your head,” Zach whispered.

What Zach didn’t know was
that
Lino
couldn’t
get in her head. She had to believe Quirk was alive. He was not just vital to the mission, but vital to
her
. She had to believe the pilot was every bit as good as Quirk thought he was.

And she hadn’t heard a death cry. What she thought she had heard was a squealed, “I love you.” Which she doubted very much was directed at her.

How much had they already accomplished on pretty much faith alone? Ronnie glanced to Francois
,
who nodded solemnly.

“Game on,” she hissed into the microphone. “Game
freaking
on.”

Sure
,
Quirk would have probably quoted
Braveheart
or something, but she thought she’d done Quirk proud. Cutting the connection to
Lino
, Ronnie headed over to the large metal discs.

“Let’s get these set up.”

* * *

Zach helped Ronnie use air
-
compressed pistons to secure the second magnetic disc into position. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about
—
”

“Nope,” Ronnie said then looked at the wreckage of their equipment. “We’ve got to find the RPG launcher before they get their snipers involved.”

He wanted to reach out to her, except
that
there
really
were snipers probably setting their range.
O
nly the sheets of rain and wind
shear
had saved them so far.

“Here we go,” Ronnie said, pulling a bent and misshapen rocket
-
propelled grenade launcher from the rubble of their equipment. At one time
,
the thing probably had been a sight to behold. It should have fit three RPGs in a revolver-style set of chambers. The only problem was two of them were trashed beyond use.

Ronnie shrugged. “I think we only had time to off
-
load one RPG
,
anyway.”

So much for their grand plan. Two minutes into the mission and they were down by half the equipment and…well
,
he didn’t want to think about personnel. Maybe Ronnie’s “let’s embrace denial” technique had some validity to it.

As the
storm soaked through to his skin, Zach helped her load the launcher. Then
,
she backed away. “All yours.”

Zach eyed the gate far across the field. It was a little like hitting the strike zone, pitching from center field. And only one chance to make it count. He seldom got performance anxiety but come on.

Then
,
Ronnie winked at him and wiggled her fingers. “Don’t worry,”
she said.
He had no idea what she meant as she put on a pair of cracked glasses. “I’ve got your back.”

* * *

Okay, that would have sounded a lot more reassuring if her glasses didn’t spark and fritz half of her display. However
,
if her laptop was still working, then she had to believe
that
the helicopter wasn’t at the bottom of the ocean. Right?

Zach set the launcher on his shoulder and leveled the sight. This time he
did
need to brace himself
, because
the rocket’s
force nearly knocked him over. She couldn’t worry about him
,
though
.
S
he had a missile to keep on track.

How she adored Zach, but his aim was off. Statistics ran down the good side of her holographic glasses showing he was about ten degrees off, and the wind was blowing in from the west, multiplying his error.

Typing into the air as big fat raindrops splattered on her glasses, Ronnie compensated for the angle. The RPG smoothly corrected course
,
angling straight for the gate. With just a few more adjustments
,
the RPG hit the castle’s entrance, shattering the thick wood, opening up the path into the compound.

For once
,
things went as planned. Now they only needed to
—

“Francois!” Zach yelled as the Frenchm
a
n headed across the soggy grass. “Wait!”

But when did the old man wait on anything
?
“Seriously, we need to put a bell on him,” Ronnie commented as she hurried over to the first hyper
-
magnets. “Zach
,
set the other one.”

Rapidly
,
she got hers spinning
,
generating the magnetic field they would need.

“How do I turn it on?” he asked.

“Hit the button to the left… Never mind,” she said racing over and turning his on as well.

“Ready” she queried
,
knowing what she asked.

“Can I say ‘no?’
”

“If we’re going to catch up with him,” Ronnie said taking Zach’s hand. “Probably not.”

* * *

Francois strode across the increasingly muddy field. The rain poured down like a cleansing baptism.
Lightning
danced in the sky as thunder boomed. Was that God’s anger or encouragement?

It
was
n
’
t that he didn’t hear the shouts behind him, Francois instead chose to listen to the angels. They sang in his mind. He need only look to his carved flesh to know the melody.

He was close enough now to be able to see the gunmen positioned on the other side of the gate, defending the courtyard. He could sense the other men along the high stone ramparts and even those positioned within the towers. He mostly sensed
Lino
.