McGriffin counted seven of the white nuclear weapons storage containers. Squinting, he spotted more barrels inside the craft. He couldn’t tell how many were on board, but there seemed not to be more than fifteen total.
Two men gestured at each other, standing between the seven barrels and the helicopter. Another ten men stood tensely around, their weapons pointing in the air.
McGriffin pulled back and breathed deeply. Eighteen men, he thought. He’d have to forget taking the chopper by force. But what could he do? Armed with a shotgun and pistol, he’d be lucky to get five of the terrorists before being shredded to pieces. Even radio contact with Manny wouldn’t help him.
He had brought down one chopper earlier tonight, but that was blind luck. Besides, the HH-53 hadn’t been more than twenty feet above him. No chance of getting that close again. McGriffin breathed a prayer.
It started to look like the only other option would be to have Falcon One come in and blow the remaining helicopter away; but how could he convince them the nukes wouldn’t detonate?
If only the nuclear weapons weren’t on board! It would be a piece of cake.
McGriffin started moving away from the edge when the gunfire rang out. Scrambling back for a quick look, his heart stopped: one of the terrorists held a hostage in front of him, threatening a man with a pistol. The hostage slumped forward in the man’s arms. Her long blond hair drooped nearly to her waist.
Vikki Osborrn was in the middle of the confrontation.
Vikki … here?
McGriffin lurched back. He tried to slow his breathing. He felt giddy, lightheaded. He knew he was hyperventilating, but the sight of Vikki almost floored him.
With shaking hands he pulled out the walkie-talkie and spoke in a low, desperate voice. He made sure Manny understood the instructions perfectly before he started away: no matter what happened, the fighters had to make sure that chopper didn’t leave the ground! Even if it put his own life in danger.
Feeling sick to his stomach, he crawled back across the bunker to where he could slip to a clearing, away from where the fighters would be attacking. From there, Manny would pick him up … after the fireworks.
Vikki tried to lay limp in Harding’s arms. The dead weight should set him off balance, and more importantly, he might ignore her if the shooting started again. As Harding dragged her back to the helicopter, the physicist sparred with Renault.
“It’s as simple as that, Colonel. One helicopter cannot carry all the nuclear weapons and the rest of your men. Some of them must remain until the helicopter can return.”
Renault took a step toward the helicopter but backed down as Harding shook his pistol at him. “My men will not allow the helicopter to leave without them.”
“They will if you order them, Colonel. I’ve seen your men in action. They will do whatever you tell them.”
Renault swept an arm at his men. The crew surrounding the helicopter scanned the night sky. They dragged a fiber-optic guided missile, captured from the security policemen. One of the men held the launcher on his shoulder.
“You’re right, Doctor. But my men are not stupid, either. Why do you think they follow me? If they were complacent, they would not be here. They will obey me — but they will also do whatever it takes to survive.” Renault took a step forward. “How many of those weapons do you need, anyway? Are you going to be able to dismantle the safeguards on all of them?”
Harding stepped backward. He reached the door of the chopper. Feeling his way with his elbow, he stepped inside. He trained his pistol on Renault the entire time. “Order your men to back off.”
“I refuse to—”
“Incoming!” Renault’s men sprawled to the ground in an automatic reflex. A whine escalated to a white roar as bullets peppered the ground. Renault dove toward the helicopter; Harding fell inside. Glass crashed on Vikki. She scrambled to her knees, her vision blurred by dripping blood.
Eight men fell dead to the ground, caught in the fighter’s rain of hot metal. A few tried crawling to safety, but those who came to help them were mowed down. The hail of bullets marched across the clearing.
The men with the missile held their ground. Following the fighter’s progress, they ignored the spray of bullets and tracked the jet in their infrared sights. Just as the fighter started to pull up, they lit the missile’s tail.
Spurting flames ten yards long, the missile raced out of the bore. Hundreds of feet of fiber-optic wire spooled out, clicking against the armature. Guiding the missile in, it took less than two seconds for the device to intersect the fighter. The missile detonated.
The fighter veered off, belching black smoke. Seconds later a thundering roar filled the sky.
Vikki pushed herself into a corner. She covered her head with her hands and tried to make herself small.
Harding dragged himself over to the pilot; no one else was on board. Koch still grasped the stick, frozen in his seat. Harding held a pistol to his head. “Take off.”
“I… can’t …”
Harding pulled the trigger back. “I said, take off. You’ve got five seconds to get this bird off the ground or I’m putting a bullet through your head. One, two, three—”
“Wait, dammit.” Renault stumbled on board. “We got the jet. We can still get the rest of the men on board—”
Harding coolly whipped around and pumped two shots into him. The colonel slumped forward, falling just inside the helicopter. Vikki ducked and closed her eyes. Things were happening too fast.
Turning back to Koch, Harding clicked the trigger again and said, “I’ve got four shots and you’ve got two seconds. One—”
Koch punched at the auxiliary power unit. Dust kicked up from the chopper’s blades accompanied the high-pitched whining. The sound came from a Dantean symphony: with the front windshield gone, glass, wind, and a cacophony of noise crashed inside the helicopter. The chopper lifted only inches off the ground, then slowly rotated around.
Two of Renault’s men scrambled to get on the helicopter. Harding spent three bullets killing them; they fell out the door to the ground. Harding turned back to Koch.
“Get out of here!” Harding yelled over the wind.
“Only one engine is up!”
“Now!” Harding put the gun to pilot’s head.
Koch strained with the controls. The other engine ran up. Koch pulled up on the collective to get altitude, then pushed forward on the stick. Gritty sand whipped through the helicopter.
Across from Vikki the ground twirled crazily through the open cargo door. The helicopter tipped, and she felt she would slide out.
Shots tore up from below them, piercing the deck and ricocheting inside the cabin. The white storage barrels knocked against each other, straining against hastily lashed ropes. As the chopper rose higher in the air, the shots stopped.
Vikki struggled up. In the cockpit Harding grasped the right seat and stood with his legs bent, ready to cushion any jolt. He rested his pistol on the crook of his arm. Vikki steadied herself and walked uncertainly across the deck. Blood caking on her face blurred her vision.
Harding caught her out of the corner of his eye. He cracked a grin. “Half an hour and we’re home free.” He jerked his head at the nine white barrels lashed together in the rear of the craft. “We’ve done it. Each one of those babies will pull down at least a hundred million. Pick any place you want to live, Vikki — anywhere in the world, and it’s yours.”
They left the glow from Alpha Base behind them. As they headed for the mountains, Vikki couldn’t help feeling that the original purpose for the raid had slipped away as well.