Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart of Stone (13 page)

It was a woman’s touch, he thought again, as he studied the full white petals and the rich purple in the center of the orchid. And he was in a woman’s world. Shaking his head, he seesawed with the dichotomy. On one hand, Maya knew her business as a combat pilot and squadron commander. Yet the evidence of women’s things popped up in the most surprising places. That, and the informality that seemed to pervade her command—a blur between rank and privilege. The way Gautier had treated him—more like an equal, when he was a major and she a lowly lieutenant—had surprised him as well.

He’d heard that women knew how to work as a team a lot better than men did. Maybe that was true. Was it because they didn’t keep up walls, the barriers of rank, that this place hummed like a well-ordered beehive? He’d been damned impressed at the short time it took to get those two Apaches off the ground and into the air to chase Faro’s helicopters. Shaking his head, Dane
sat down on the creaky chair. Maya and this place seemed alien, out of sync with him. He was trying to adjust, but it was hard.

Getting down to the business of penning his flight mission report, Dane decided to stop thinking so much and just let things roll as they might around here. He couldn’t afford to be rigid like they were stateside. No, down here, Maya ran her organization differently. Lifting his head, he mused at the word he’d just used:
different.
Maybe that was what her people had meant—that she ran her squadron much more loosely than the military usually did. At least more loosely than they were used to up north.

Sighing, he tried to concentrate on the report in front of him, pulling a pen from the side pocket of the left arm of his flight uniform. What would the next few days bring? Some peace, he hoped…if he could keep his foot out of his mouth long enough.

T
he bogey bell clanged gratingly throughout the cave complex. Dane moved from behind his desk and grabbed his helmet from the nearby shelf. He knew Maya had duty today. And he’d been waiting for this opportunity for the last four days, ever since his flight with her. Today she was back on the combat flight roster. Hurrying down the stairs, he ran out toward the lip, where they were pushing out the two Apaches that would intercept. It was late afternoon; the sky was the usual mix of clouds and pale blue. The humidity was high and he was sweating profusely.

The well-trained crews swarmed around the individual gunships, pulling off the rotor tethers as the crew chiefs opened up the cockpits for the pilots, who were running toward them.

Spotting Maya coming from the dispensary, which was located at the rear of the cave complex, Dane slowed until she caught up with him. Since the last
flight with her, he’d spent every moment he could in the air, as copilot gunner, on different intercept missions. Maya had given him permission because it would help him set up a realistic training schedule, which would begin next Monday.

“I’m coming with you, if it’s all right with you,” he said as he jogged at her shoulder.

Maya shrugged and kept up her long stride toward the Apache on the left, nearest the wall. “Fine by me.”

Penny handed Maya the sat intel information as she approached the gunship. “They’ve spotted three helos, Captain. They’re forty miles from the border.”

“Thanks, Penny.” Maya stuffed the printout into her flight suit pocket. Dane had already climbed into the back seat and was busy getting into his harness. Looking to her right, she saw that CWO3 Akiva Redtail, an Apache-Lakota Sioux woman, and her copilot, CWO2 Vickey Mabrey, were already in their gunship and ready to roll. Akiva always wore a bright red scarf around her head, a sign that she was an Apache warrior. In her belt she wore an antique ax and Bowie knife that was given to her when she passed all the demanding tests in her tribe to become a warrior. Maya had allowed her to keep the articles of war on her person not only because she honored Akiva, but because they had been handed down through Akiva’s family from her great-great grandmother, who was a warrior and rode with Geronimo.

Climbing into the front seat, Maya automatically went through the motions. In no time, she was lifting off the Apache and threading the Eye of the Needle. This was only the second time she’d flown with Dane since his arrival. She’d heard back from the pilots he’d flown with since, on ten other missions, that he was
quickly getting up to speed on the demands of the job.
Good.

“We’re clear, Saber,” came Redtail’s voice.

“Roger, Chief. Let’s rock ’n’ roll, ladies…and gentleman.”

Dane was busy firing up the HUD radar, searching in the general area that the satellite intel had picked up the helo activity. He heard the irony and amusement in Maya’s voice. Since their last head-on confrontation in the hall of HQ, she had left him alone to manage his responsibilities for the training schedule. Sometimes he’d seen her pass in the hall, but she never looked his way or dropped by to talk. No, that steel wall between them was solidly in place.

Mouth compressing, Dane scanned the skies overhead. He had no one to blame but himself. Racking his brain for ways to approach Maya and ask her to trust him was a fool’s business. If he’d learned anything in the past four days, it was that she trusted those who proved themselves capable of her trust. Her squadron really did idolize her, he’d discovered. They loved her more like a mother who nurtured them, rather than fearing her as a squadron leader. And there was nothing they wouldn’t do for Maya. Yes, the last four days had shown him just how much his own dark prejudice against her, against women in general, was really distorted and inappropriate.

“Got anything on radar yet?” Maya demanded as she pushed the Apache up to ten thousand feet, above the cloud layer.

“No,” he murmured. “You got any feelings about this mission?”

Maya chuckled. “Uh-oh, sounds like my pilots have
been retraining you on the finer points of using your intuition as radar, too.”

He liked the sound of her husky voice. She seemed to have let down her guard. He grinned. “Yeah, you could say that. You sense anything?”

Maya felt him trying to earnestly establish a beachhead of trust with her. She was exhausted by the demands of the squadron, plus having the new I.P.s around and flying combat missions. “I’m too damn tired to sense much of anything right now. How about you?” She looked around, always searching for the lethal Kamovs. In the past four days, since their last attack, the Kamovs seemed to have evaporated from their airspace. That wasn’t like them, and Maya was uneasy about it. What was up? What did Faro have up his sleeve?

“I’m not sure it’s a feeling,” Dane murmured, frowning at the HUDs. He saw a vague outline. That meant it was painting something out there. What, exactly, he wasn’t sure. “I’ve got three bogeys on screen,” he stated, giving her the coordinates. Instantly, Maya changed directions, and so did Redtail, who followed two rotor lengths behind her.

“What then?” Maya asked. She felt safe in the cockpit of her Apache, like a child in a mother’s arms. She trusted this gunship with her life. Literally.

“I don’t know…. I can’t explain it….”

“You usually can’t define intuition hits that clearly,” she said. “You know without knowing.”

“Spoken like a true oracle.”

Maya laughed outright. It was the first time she’d truly let down around Dane, and it felt good. She heard him chuckling in her headset.

“If I was an oracle, I’d be able to tell you what Faro’s up to,” she griped unhappily.

“Yeah, Lobo said he’s up to no good. He’s changing tactics on you—again.”

“Yes…and that always makes me nervous.”

“I’m scanning for the Kamovs,” Dane assured her. All around them rose the lofty mountains, clothed in jungle greenery. Dane was familiar with most of the flight routes now. They’d go due east and intercept somewhere between the lowlands of the jungle and the highlands, which curved steeply up to fourteen thousand feet. Lake Titicaca wasn’t that far away, although he had yet to see it. The Bolivian border area was high, arid desert, a no-man’s land with harsh conditions.

Just as he lifted his head to scan, he saw something peripherally.

“Wait….”

Twisting his head, he looked again.

“Kamovs!” he barked. “One o’clock high! Break! Break!”

Instantly, Maya peeled off to the left. Redtail sheered to the right. The Apache groaned as she brought the nose up and into a vertical climb, the throttles to the firewall. Jerking her head around, Maya saw the double-rotored Kamovs charging them. Her eyes widened.

“Damn! There’s
three
of them!”

Dane sucked in a breath. He saw all three of the black Russian helicopters roaring full speed from behind the mountain where they’d been hiding. They were diving down at them. He and Maya were in trouble. Quickly, he punched up the rockets for launch.

Maya cursed softly and realized that two of the Kamovs were peeling off toward her. Where had Faro gotten a
third
Kamov? Had he bought another one in
order to up the ante? The third was after Redtail. Maya was too low. The Kamovs were high. They had the advantage.
Damn!
Sweat stood out on her carved face. Her lips drew back from her teeth as she whipped the Apache around so that they could fire at their oncoming attackers.

“Rockets on line. I’ve got one painted.”

Dane’s voice was cool and low. It soothed her. Heart pounding, Maya watched as the second Kamov broke from the first and began to move in for a kill.

“Fire when ready,” she snapped.

“Firing.”

The white light of the rocket sped from both sides of the Apache. Maya wasted no time watching to see if they hit their target. She had a second Kamov stalking her in earnest. Seeing the winking of gunfire, she knew that he was firing 30 mm cannon shells at them.

Too late!

The front cockpit Plexiglas cracked. It was designed to take a 30 mm hit, but the side panels were not shell resistant. Maya heard the explosion of shattering Plexiglas. She felt a white-hot heat sear her left arm. Several pieces of the canopy slashed against her chest and struck the chicken plate with a thud. The vest had just saved her life.

Jerking the Apache to the right, and moving toward the Kamov, she yelled, “Fire!”

Dane had winced as the shells slammed into the front cockpit and arced above him. Was Maya wounded? He’d heard her groan, but that was all. From the way she was handling the Apache, she didn’t seem hurt at all. He quickly thumbed the button. The 30 mm cannon beneath the Apache began thunking out huge rounds at the approaching Kamov. Satisfaction soared through
him as Maya held the gunship right on course. The cannon shells were going to find their mark.

In his headset, he heard Redtail yelling excitedly. The crew on the other Apache had their own battle on their hands. Jerking his head around, Dane saw two of the shells impact the right wing of the Kamov.
Good!
Instantly, the helicopter banked to the right, away from them, smoke pouring out of one engine.

Maya rubbernecked around, desperately looking for the other Kamov. It was gone! Breathing hard, she pulled the Apache around to locate Redtail. She was about two miles away. The third Kamov was hightailing it back toward the jungle.

Wind was whipping into the cockpit, through the broken Plexiglas. She saw the shattered, sparkling pieces sprinkled all around her, across her lap and on the floor beneath her feet. And then she saw something else. Blood. Blood was splattered across her instrument panel.

“What the hell…” she muttered. “Take the controls, Dane. I need to check something out. You got the controls?”

Instantly, he placed his hands and feet on them. “I have the controls.” He kept searching the sky and twisting around. The Kamovs were gone. They appeared and disappeared like magicians; now you see them, now you don’t. Breathing raggedly, he blinked his eyes rapidly. Sweat was stinging them. He looked up over his console. He could see part of Maya’s shattered cockpit. And he could just make out the top of her black helmet. Frowning, he said, “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

Maya felt a vague pain on the inside of her upper left arm. As she lifted her right hand to brush away the
Plexiglas, she saw that her uniform had been torn open beneath. Several chunks had been taken out of her chicken plate. Moving her fingers along her chest, she made sure she wasn’t injured. She was okay. The wind was making her eyes tear and blur so she couldn’t see anything.

“Slow this thing down. I can hardly see up here.”

Dane pulled back on the throttles. He saw Redtail coming back to join them. “You want me to hover?”

“No, just head back to base below a hundred miles an hour.”

“Roger.”

He heard a strange edge in Maya’s voice. What was going on? “Are you injured?”

Lifting her left arm, she saw blood pumping out of a deep slash in it. “Damn,” she muttered. “I’m bleeding like a stuck hog….”

Frowning, Dane said, “Where? Where are you hit?” His heart began to pound unevenly. They were twenty minutes from base. He resisted the urge to speed up.

“The left arm,” Maya muttered. “Cut an artery, I think, by flying Plexiglas. Damn…gotta find something to tie off the area above it….” And she began to search around for something, anything, to wrap around her upper arm. Dizziness assailed her. Maya closed her eyes, then opened them. This couldn’t be happening. Of all things…

“There’s nothing up there to tie it off with,” Dane told her urgently. “Use your right hand and press hard on it, Maya. Use direct pressure, all you have. It’ll slow the bleeding down. Can you do that?”

Her fingers became slippery as she tried to squeeze the opened flesh that was pumping blood. “Yeah…I’m doing that now.”

“Are you feeling all right?”

Maya heard the tension in Dane’s tone. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. “No…I’m not. Call base. Ask the medical team to meet us on the lip. I’m losing blood fast….” And she looked down to realize that it had been pooling below her feet on the deck without her even realizing it. Her heart was pounding in her chest like an overstressed freight train. Her voice sounded weak to her ears, not filled with her usual strong confidence. Was she going to die?
No!
She didn’t want to. Trying to press her right hand tighter around her upper arm, she felt coldness creeping into her bones. The wind, although warm and humid, was buffeting her.

“Dane…”

Alarmed, he heard the faraway tone of Maya’s voice. It was the first time she’d called him by his first name. He heard an edge of fear in her voice. She was going down.
No! Not her! Not now!

“I—think…I think I’m going to lose consciousness pretty soon. If I do, I can’t hold the pressure on my arm and I’m going to start bleeding out again.”

Her voice was growing fainter by the moment. His eyes widened. There was nothing he could do to help her. Frustration ate at him. “Maya, just hold on. Take some deep breaths. Stay awake!”

She heard the raw concern in his voice. Resting her head against the back of her seat, she felt darkness edging her vision. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Redline this gunship…or I’m not going to make it….”

Those were the last words he heard from her. Instantly, Dane moved the Apache to top speed. He called the base and requested immediate medical
standby. As he gave the details of Maya’s injury, he knew it was a race against time. She was bleeding out. He knew that if an artery was cut at an angle, in two or three minutes it would close itself off to a bare trickle, and her life would be saved. However, if the artery had been sliced cleanly through, it had no way of closing itself off—and she would bleed out and die. Looking at his watch, he saw they had ten minutes until they landed. Hurry! Hurry! His hands wrapped hard around the controls.

Taking over as flight commander, he radioed Redtail, ordering her back to base as well, as there was no need to put a lone Apache up against the two Kamovs that might still be out hunting them. His mind raced. His heart hurt. Maya was too proud, too beautiful, too brave to die. It couldn’t end this way for her. It just couldn’t! His mouth compressed into a thin line. As he brought the Apache down to six thousand feet, the sky nearly clear for once, he could see the mountain ahead where their base was located.