Tactical Strike (21 page)

“I’m okay. Sorry for the worry.”

A slight grin quirked his lips. “What’s the story?”

“I’m not sure.” She glanced over at the others.

The team leader was deep in conversation with Ryan, pointing
down the hill to their right, when Ryan suddenly turned away and put the radio
back to his ear again, his expression tense. The next instant he was ripping a
map from his vest and studying it with the team leader. As they examined it,
neither man looked happy. Candace swallowed past the dryness in her mouth.

“Roger that,” Ryan answered whoever was on the other end. When
he lowered the radio, the team leader and Kawaleski began rounding up the
others, issuing orders.

Candace crossed over to Ryan, who was busy plugging coordinates
into his GPS. “What’s happening?” Her hands tightened around the rifle.

“Our ride home’s on its way, but we’re here,” he said, pointing
to their location on the topo map, “and the only LZ in the area where a Chinook
can set down is here.” He indicated a small flat spot around two klicks away
from their current position.

“Okay.” She still wasn’t seeing the problem, but it was obvious
from his tone that there was one.

He met her gaze, and his grave expression made her stomach
tighten. “We’ve got bad guys hemming us in on three sides, which leaves our only
escape route
here
.” He traced a path back in the
same direction from where they’d just come. “And the ANA boys just reported
seeing another enemy force moving up from
here
.” He
tapped a spot partway along their chosen route.

“From
right
there?” She felt the
blood drain from her face as the gravity of the situation sank in. The weapon in
her hands suddenly seemed to weigh twice as much.

The look in Ryan’s eyes chilled her blood as he nodded. “Looks
like we’re going to have to go through them to get to the LZ.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Quiet!” Khalid snapped when the incoming communication
started up again.

His men instantly stopped talking, creating a vacuum of silence
filled by the crackle of the stolen radio and the accented English coming over
it.

Khalid raised his binoculars. They were so close now, close
enough for Khalid to see the radio operator speaking to the Americans while he
listened over their supposedly secure frequency. His men—what was left of
them—lay flat on their bellies behind whatever cover they could find, doing
their best to blend into their surroundings. A few minutes ago he’d ordered them
to hide and conserve ammunition for the coming push. In the lull with no wind
howling down the mountain, it was easy to hear the frantic words the Afghan
soldier was saying.

“Two wounded...running low on ammunition. Large enemy force
spotted ahead.”

“Give me the coordinates,” the American ordered.

Khalid lost track of the conversation, the numbers sounding
like jibberish, spoken too quickly for him to understand.

“...cave network at the edge of the valley.”

They must have seen Nasrallah.

Khalid trained his binoculars on the general’s location, not
needing to confirm the interpreter’s words to know where they were watching. He
switched back to observing the Afghans. Trapped down in a shallow gulley,
surrounded on three sides. Were they aware of that? The American began to say
something else but Khalid was rudely interrupted by the squawk of another radio
frequency and a hard, authoritative voice. “Khalid, check in.”

Without taking his eyes off his target, Khalid reluctantly
reached back and took the radio one of his men offered him. “I’m here.”

“I ordered you to rendezvous here at first light. Where
are
you?” Raw anger pulsed in the general’s voice.

“In a good place. I have trapped a small team of our countrymen
helping the Americans. They will be easy to finish off. I have to deal with them
first.”

Nasrallah made a sound of disgust. “You will do no such thing.
And those same Americans you speak of have now had time to regroup. They may
even have eyes on us—”

“The traitors spotted you and informed the Americans a moment
ago,” he growled. Stupid old man. “They know your location. You’ll have to move
up your attack and hit them before they get to you.”

A pregnant pause filled the line. “They cannot see us hidden in
here. They couldn’t have discovered the tunnel networks.”

“They know where you are,” he repeated.

Khalid could almost feel the old man’s fear seeping through the
radio. “How close are you to the Americans?”

“Close.” He could see them using his binoculars, poised out of
shooting range on a protected ridge far above their allies. But he was even
closer to the traitors.

Nasrallah’s voice was raspy, urgent. “You must take out the
ones with radio packs. Get your best sharpshooter in place.”

“I already have.” Khalid brought his rifle up, set the barrel
on top of the boulder and aimed at the Afghan interpreter. With one precise shot
he could change everything, finally take control of his destiny. He forced
himself to slow his breathing, push the excitement back.
Not
yet
.
Not
quite
yet
. The timing was essential.

Nasrallah was still barking at him. “Do you understand me? You
must get to the Americans before I begin my assault. With the weather clearing
they’ll be able to call in air strikes.”

Oh
,
I
know
they
will
. “The traitors are between them and us. We have
to kill them first.” Starting with that interpreter in contact with the
Americans.

A long delay followed, and he imagined the general’s face going
a mottled red beneath his gray-streaked beard. “Khalid!”

Ignoring the sharp command, he glanced over his shoulder at the
remainder of his men and nodded. As each man picked up their weapon and got into
position for the attack, Khalid did the same, chambering a round into his old
bolt-action rifle.

Finally Nasrallah came back on the line. “Khalid, you will
answer me!” He was so enraged he’d slipped back into Pashto.

Khalid lined up the shot with great care, centering it between
the shoulders of the man speaking over the radio to the Americans. Only then did
he pick the other radio back up and answer Nasrallah. “I’m here.”

“I will begin my assault now. Do you have a target in your
sights?” Nasrallah demanded angrily.

Khalid’s gaze swept from the interpreter down to the valley,
where Nasrallah and his men were now trapped, and back again. As a wave of
adrenaline surged hot through his blood, Khalid smiled and took aim. “Yes.”

* * *

Hunkered behind cover, Ryan paused, unsure he’d heard
the ANA member correctly. Waving Diamond Dave over, he responded to the
game-changing news. “Say again—Nasrallah? Are you sure?”

“Affirmative, General Nasrallah—he’s down there at the edge of
the valley.” The man was still scared shitless, his voice tense and raspy. “We
have wounded to be evacuated. I-I can’t reach anyone, and we might be
surrounded.”

His fear was palpable, but at the moment there was nothing Ryan
could do to help. He couldn’t see the ANA team, hidden in a gulley someplace
down and to the left. All he knew was this latest information changed
everything. “We’ve got an evac coming in at an LZ to the west.” Ryan gave him
the coordinates, made him repeat them back. “Make your way there as soon as
possible. Did you get visual confirmation on Nasrallah?”

“Negative, but a large force is there. A villager told us about
the bunker, said it was Nasrallah’s men. We were sent here to find it. They’ve
been hiding supplies in a tunnel network for weeks.”

And all their satellites and other technology had missed it?
Ryan looked at Diamond Dave in wordless resignation. They’d been looking for
this fucker for months, putting every asset they had on him in the days since
the most recent rocket attack on the base, and some random villager had wound up
giving them the intel they needed?

Diamond Dave waved for him to continue.

“How many men?” Ryan demanded.

“I—I don’t know. A hundred maybe.”

Shit, that many, right under their noses? He paused, waiting
for Diamond Dave to say something.

The warrant officer shook his head. “Jesus, you think it’s
true? The number one HVT is sitting right down there?”

“Want me to—”

Two closely spaced bullets impacted the hillside below them,
sending up a spray of snow and dirt.

“Take cover!” Diamond Dave yelled, hitting the deck.

Ryan flattened out next to him, wondering who in hell was
shooting at them now. Glancing back, he was relieved to see Candace and a few of
her crew lying face-down next to a stretcher. And the woman had his M4 up and
ready to fire, gaze fixed straight ahead, prepared to face whatever threat came
their way. Damn, he loved her.

“That was from out in front of us,” Dave muttered, aiming down
the hill.

More shots ripped into the ground below them, a few pinging off
rocks close to their position.

Before Ryan could answer, the ANA member came back on the
radio, yelling over the shooting. “We’re taking fire! Enemy contact, nine
o’clock. Falling back.”

“Copy that,” Ryan answered, keeping his voice calm, hoping it
would help settle the man down. “Get your team to that LZ site.”

The volume of fire coming at them increased for a few seconds,
then stopped. A second later a fucking RPG round streaked over their heads. It
impacted with a cliff, sending rock and debris raining down the hill, while
everyone on their right flank scrambled out of the way.

Someone spoke over the squad radio. “Contact, two o’clock. Few
dozen of ’em crawling out of the rocks down there.”

And there’d be plenty more where they came from, Ryan thought
sourly. With the enemy heading at them from below and more somewhere out there
on their left, they couldn’t afford to be drawn into a firefight. They had to
get the hell out of here before they were surrounded or overrun.

Dave slapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. “Let’s
go, before the assholes cut us off from that LZ.” He got on the squad radio,
rattling off orders.

The team exploded into motion, securing the perimeter and
directing the air crew to safety.

Ryan hurried over to where Candace and her navigator lay beside
their wounded crew member and kneeled next to her. Her eyes were wide, all her
attention focused on him, body poised for action. “Stay close to the others,” he
ordered. “We’re going to make a run for the LZ. Follow Kawaleski while everyone
else carries the wounded out. Only shoot if you’ve got a clear target. There’s a
full clip in there, but save your ammo.” He set a hand on her shoulder, trying
to convey his support and protection when there was precious little comfort he
could offer. “It’s going to be okay, and I’ll be close behind you. You
ready?”

Nodding once, she handed him back his Beretta. Fucking useless
at this range, but better than nothing. “What are you going to do?” Candace
asked hoarsely.

Shoving it back into the holster on his thigh, he met her eyes.
They were full of anxiety, but the way she was looking at him, he knew it wasn’t
because of fear for her safety. No, she was worried for him, he realized with a
pang. Because she had his primary weapon?

He rushed to reassure her. “I’m gonna call in for more CAS to
cover our asses. Don’t worry about me. I’m a hell of a lot more lethal with this
radio than I could ever be with that M4. Now get moving.” He shoved her upward,
sent her toward Kawaleski, where he was waiting at the top of the trail.

Without arguing Candace pushed up onto her elbows and crawled
back the way they’d come, staying close to the rocks for protection. Two more
team members were guarding their backs. Ryan waved the navigator and another
airman forward. Together they hoisted their wounded crewman and rushed up the
slope.

More rounds impacted close by, thudding into the snowy ground.
Pulling out his SOFLAM, Ryan peered between some rocks to get a better view.

“Went, what’s the story on that air?” Diamond Dave said in his
earpiece.

Good
question
. “Working on it, sir.” But when he
contacted Bagram again, he was told they were still in the process of launching
aircraft and that all available air assets were already in use elsewhere.
Frustrated, Ryan called up the B-1 bomber.

“Inbound to your position,” the pilot responded. “ETA on
station, six minutes.”

Well, he wasn’t hanging around here that long. Those bastards
coming up the hill would be able to get clear shots in another couple of
minutes. They needed to buy some time, get a head start up the trail and skirt
above the force tangling with the ANA boys. Ryan tipped his head back to scan
the ridge above them.

“Give me status, Went.”

Ryan responded to Diamond Dave’s call. “Bird’s six minutes out.
Can we hit that overhang on the ridge to the north? A grenade there would cause
enough of a problem for those assholes under us to give us a few minutes’ lead
time.”

“Roger that.” The acting team leader barked more orders over
the comms.

Staying low, Ryan charged up the trail after the others just as
a round whistled above his head. A second later the grenade exploded against the
overhang. Rock and earth slid down the face of the mountain, tearing down more
with it. In moments their previous position was buried under feet of debris,
some of it spilling over the lip and down toward the enemy location. Ryan didn’t
bother sticking around to see if a full-fledged avalanche formed.

He ran headlong to catch up to the others. Diamond Dave and one
other ODA member waited behind cover for him. Together they scrambled up the
slippery terrain, bringing up the rear. At the top of a rise Ryan caught a
glimpse of Candace’s bright hair spilling down her back below the black knit
cap. She was still holding her own, keeping pace with the others.

Then his radio squawked. “We’re surrounded! Five of us are
down—we need reinforcements!” the ANA interpreter shouted, all pretense of
control long gone. The guy was freaking out.

“Where are they?” Diamond Dave demanded, breathing hard as they
ran. “I can’t fucking see any of them down there.”

“State your position,” Ryan told the man.

Nothing came back but the echo of gunfire below them. With the
volume of fire, it sounded like the ANA team was still putting up a good
fight.

“Tell him to move up the mountain,” Dave commanded. “We can’t
send anyone down there. They’ll have to meet up with us or wait for CAS.”

Hating to be the one to relay that kind of message, Ryan got
back on the radio. “Air support inbound. Recommend you move north and west
toward the LZ.”

Again, no answer but gunfire echoing in the distance. For all
he knew, the radio was inoperable or the interpreter might already be dead. But
at least one ANA member was still alive and shooting back down there. Ryan’s
heart went out to the guy. They had to help him.

As they ran the sounds of the firefight moved with them,
hugging the edge of the mountain, staying out of sight. “Whoever’s left is
heading for the LZ,” Ryan panted.

“Hope they get the bastards before they jeopardize the LZ. Not
sure all of us would make it to an alternate site.” Dave meant the air crew, and
Ryan had to agree. Part of him was surprised the survivors had made it this
far.

Long minutes passed as they climbed up and down the uneven
terrain. Still no sign of the bomber.

They were almost to the top of another ridge when one of the
team members came over the squad radio. “Contact, two o’clock! Falling
back.”