Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) (15 page)

It was
their leaders he didn’t trust at all.

Spotting
something on the horizon, he grabbed the binoculars from around his neck and
raised them, scanning for the bright dots he had seen. Two MiG-23s zoomed into
view, racing toward their position. He pointed and announced to the general
public.

“We’ve
got incoming. Two MiG-23s from the south-east!”

The
entire camp turned, all becoming silent except for the hum of the diesel
generator nearby. Within moments the dull roar of the MiG engines could be
heard over the chugging generator, the spots on the horizon growing in
intensity.

The
Eritrean soldiers rushed to the bank of the river, dropping to the sand and
aiming their weapons at the other side, many with their guns pointing in the
air. Several technicals, merely pickup trucks with 50 caliber machine guns
mounted in the rear took up position as tanks roared to life.

This
is going to go to shit, quick!

He
motioned for Niner to follow him and he ran toward the opening in the hold of
the ship, the steady flow of gold having halted. He dropped to his knees and
found the two professors kneeling at the entrance, looking out.

“You two
need to get out of there, now!” he ordered, holding his hand out for Professor
Palmer. She took it and he pulled her out, Acton scrambling after her. Dawson
pointed to the other side of the embankment the hull of the boat rested
against. “Get to the other side, the sand will provide good cover. If shooting
breaks out, keep low and move north until you’re out of range, then turn east.
There’s a village only a few miles from here. I’ll find you there.”

Acton
nodded and grabbed his fiancée by the hand, scrambling up the embankment and
out of sight, a large group of the civilians doing the same as the dozen
unarmed security “observers” were left with no weapons to help defend against
any potential attack, and no authority to order the Eritreans to hold their
fire.

“What do
you think?” asked Niner. “What’s our job here? To protect the gold, or protect
our citizens?”

“Officially
we’re not here to protect anything, merely observe, and in all honesty act as
human shields against any Ethiopian aggression. The thinking is that they won’t
dare risk killing soldiers from the Security Council nations.”

“Did
anyone tell the Eritreans that’ll only work if they don’t fire first?”

“I met
the commander. Unfortunately the bulb seems dim. And from what I saw of his
troops, I don’t think he’ll be able to control them once they get scared.”

The roar
of the jets’ engines filled the area now as the two MiG’s rushed their position
in what Dawson was certain was merely a show of force to intimidate. They would
break off at the last second, banking away, careful to not cross the border.

But if a
single Eritrean soldier fired out of fear, all hell could break loose.
Ethiopia’s military was far more massive and they had arrayed an impressive amount
of armor already. Their ability to cross the river would be limited, but they’d
be able to pound this position without mercy.

Dawson
spotted Reese talking with the Eritrean commander, his uniform impressively
adorned with large amounts of gold and medals that were most likely earned by
his troops and not himself. He was arguing animatedly with Reese, using grand
hand motions to belittle the slight woman. Dawson had to admit the diminutive
woman was an odd choice for the assignment in a nation where women weren’t
respected, but when her finger jabbed back, pointed up at his throat, the glare
she delivered and the words unheard at this distance, caused the man to check
himself, then walk away, yelling for his troops to hold their fire.

Before
Dawson could say anything Reese spun toward him, pointing. “Where are the
professors?”

“I’ve
sent them over the ridge, toward town.”

She
nodded approvingly then surveyed the camp as it emptied out of non-combatants.
“We need to get that gold—”

She was
cut off by a burst of gunfire. Dawson’s trained ear told him it was a single
AK-47 that fired off half a mag before being joined in by a chorus of assorted
weapons. He spun toward the river to see the two approaching MiG’s break off
exactly as he had expected they would, but as they did, the entire southern
bank of the river lit up as muzzles flared with return fire.

Dawson
shoved Reese to the ground as he and Niner hit the deck. Looking about for
better cover than a nearby canvas tent, he spotted the two large front loaders
less than fifty feet away, their massive steel scoops several feet in the air,
but facing away from the incoming fire. Dawson pointed and Niner nodded. They
both grabbed Reese, hauling her to her feet and positioning themselves between
her and the river as they rushed toward the loaders.

A tank
fired behind them, followed by another, the massive explosions on the other
side of the river immediately escalating the response. They reached the first
front loader and Dawson scooped Reese up with a yelp from the woman and tossed
her inside. Niner swung up and over the lip, reaching out and pulling Dawson up
just as the response to the escalation pounded the shore, their temporary
shelter shaking as the mighty rounds began to hammer the beach.

“Jesus
Christ, we’ve got to get out of here!” cried Reese, huddled in a corner, curled
up into a ball as she cringed with each report.

No
shit!

Dawson
turned himself around so he could see what was happening and wasn’t impressed.
Two of the six Eritrean tanks were in flames, having taken direct hits, and
dozens of their troops were lying dead or wounded, the number made even more
significant with his limited field of vision. The last of the civilians cleared
the berm he had sent the professors over, but several were dead, including the
talkative and rotund Tucker from the meeting, his mangled corpse near one of
the tanks.

He
must have thought it would be good cover.

Dawson
frowned. From small arms fire, a tank is fantastic cover. But as a primary
target, it’s lousy. If the enemy has armor, and their small arms fire is coming
from across a large river, the tank is the last thing you want to hide behind.
Where they were now was safe for the moment unless the Ethiopians decided to
hit targets of opportunity, of which this loader would definitely qualify.

“They’re
launching boats!” yelled Niner, his head poking around the other side with a
view of the river.

“Ballsy,”
observed Dawson who jerked back inside, another tank erupting as it took a hit
to the turret, the crew attempting to bail as the fuel foolishly strapped to
the back in jerry cans ignited. He looked at Niner. “They’re going to run out
of military targets soon.”

“Which
means we’re probably next,” agreed Niner. Another explosion ripped apart its
target too close for comfort, sending a shower of sand over them, metal
shrapnel clanging against their makeshift shield.

“Oh no!”
exclaimed Reese, causing the two Delta operators to spin toward her. She was
holding up a gold bar, her mouth wide open. She scrambled from her corner and
shoved her head over the edge, the three of them now staring at the massive
hole in the side of the now nearly completely exposed boat. The embankment had
been blown away, the hull collapsed inward, the gold exposed for everyone to
see, a few of the bars scattered across the sand.

“Status
on the crossing?” asked Dawson.

Niner
twisted his head around the side. “About half way across, taking heavy fire.
Looks like the current is dragging them a bit, though. If they get across I
think they’ll be about half a mile downstream.”

Reese
grabbed Dawson by the shoulder. “We have to save the gold!”

“My job
is to protect you,” he replied, “not the gold. I’m here strictly as an
observer. My Rules of Engagement are zero—do not engage, only observe, leave if
necessary.”

“But
you’ll protect
me
?”

“Because
you’re an American citizen, and I’m an American soldier. My sworn duty is to
protect you, regardless of these temporary Rules of Engagement.”

Reese
seemed to think about this for a moment. “Then I choose to stay with the gold.”
She seemed to be satisfied with her reply. “Now what are you going to do?”

Dawson
shook his head, turning away so she wouldn’t see the eye roll.

I’ll
knock you out cold and carry you over my shoulder if I have to.

He
turned to reason with her when she held up a finger, her glare matching that
she had delivered to the Eritrean commander. “And don’t you dare think you’re
going to carry me out of here!”

A quick
glance at Niner and he saw him stifle a smile, shoving his head out the side to
check on their situation. Dawson didn’t have the luxury of hiding his face. “I
wouldn’t think of it.”

Reese
pointed at the gold. “If we don’t get that out of here before the Ethiopians
get here, there’s going to be a war.”

Dawson
knew she was right. These two countries had fought a war recently, with over
one hundred thousand killed and little settled. If Ethiopia were to steal a
billion dollars of gold from the Eritreans, there was no way the Eritreans
would let that go unanswered. All-out war would most likely ensue, this
impoverished country spending over twenty percent of its GDP on the military
compared to Ethiopia’s barely one percent. It was the classic little guy who
boned up on martial arts to protect himself from the bigger bullies, and when
no one challenged him, became the bully to show off his skills.

Eritrea
wouldn’t hesitate to attack, regardless of their inability to win against the
much larger foe.

Thousands
would die, perhaps tens of thousands.

All over
a pile of gold that would probably fit in the very scoop they were hiding in.

Bingo!

His
eyebrows popped as he turned away from Reese and stared at the gold. Niner
darted back inside as several rounds pinged off the massive vehicle.

“I
recognize that look,” he said. “What’ve you got in mind?”

Dawson
remained silent for a moment. The gold wouldn’t fit in this scoop, but they had
two machines, and they just might be able to get most if not all of it, less
some strays, into the two scoops and then head down the beach, over the
embankment, and deeper into Eritrean territory.

He
turned to Reese. “Any word on when we can expect a response from our naval
forces?”

Reese
shook her head. “I don’t know if anything has been called in. I know I didn’t,
there wasn’t any time and the comm gear is in the tent.”

Shit!

He looked
at Niner. “Do you know how to drive one of these things?”

Niner
nodded. “Yup, same training you received. Which means like you I haven’t done
it since.”

Dawson
chuckled knowingly. They had been trained on how to operate most vehicles, but
vehicles such as this weren’t usually part of an op. He had no doubt it would
come back to him as soon as he sat behind the seat. He turned to Niner.

“We’re
going to get this gold out of here,” he said.

“Great
idea!” replied Niner in an overly agreeable voice. “How?”

Dawson
pointed down at the scoop they were in. “We’re going to scoop it out and take
it inland.”

Niner’s
eyes opened wide for a brief moment then his head began to bob. “That’s just
crazy enough to work. Just one thing, though.”

“What?”

“The
professor is going to be pissed.”

Dawson
nodded, realizing they were about to destroy what was apparently a significant
piece of history, but he could see no way around it. He was certain even
Professor Acton would agree saving potentially tens of thousands of lives outweighed
preserving an old boat from destruction.

“No
choice.”

Niner
shrugged, poked his head out and looked at the second loader sitting nearby
then took cover again. “Looks like she’s still in one piece. It’s a military
loader by the looks of it, so there’s some thin armor plating around the cabin.
It should hold off the small arms fire, but if they open up with a fifty on us
we’re sardines in a can.”

Dawson
nodded, just thankful there was going to be some protection. “Okay, you get the
other one fired up, I’ll get this one going, but first I’ve got to call in an
airstrike.”

Reese
grabbed him by the arm. “No, I’ll take care of that. You two just get that gold
out of here.”

Dawson
was about to open his mouth when he thought better of it, the beginning of a
glare from Reese enough. He quickly removed his vest, handing it to her. “Put
this on. Once you’ve called in the strike, try to get over the embankment then
make your way to town.”

Reese
nodded as she pulled on the vest. Dawson adjusted it for her much smaller
frame, it still too big but much better than nothing.

“Let’s
go!” yelled Reese, jumping over the edge and onto the beach before Dawson could
say anything. He and Niner rolled out, Niner immediately heading for the second
vehicle, Dawson first checking to see Reese racing toward the tent, her skirt
hiked high, her feet bare.

Why
the hell is she in bare feet?

He shook
his head, quickly climbing into the cab of the loader.

Now
to remember how the hell this things works.