It seemed the idealism had died. And from his remarks once they took off from Alpha Base, a craving for power had replaced the enthusiastic élan to save the world. Power and money. She turned her head away. At least their main goal would be accomplished: showing the world how easy it is to steal these weapons of mass destruction.
The pilot turned his head to Harding. “We’re approaching the rendezvous site.”
“Take her in.” Harding brandished his pistol. “Don’t try anything funny — no quick movements, nothing. Just land the helicopter. Understand?”
Koch stiffly nodded yes.
Soon the chopper stopped its forward motion. Koch reached for the microphone. Harding shook his head. “Radio silence. You don’t want them to find us, do you?” Koch dropped his hand.
When they finally bounced at landing, Koch looked to Harding. Harding smiled. Putting down the pistol, he said, “Secure the chopper. Good work.”
Koch looked relieved. He turned to power down the craft’s instruments. As he swiveled, Harding whipped up his pistol and fired the silencer point-blank into Koch’s skull. Blood splattered over the console.
Reloading, Harding quickly pumped another round into Koch’s shoulder. Harding rubbed some of the warm blood on his chest, making it appear as if he were injured too. He started dragging Koch out of the seat. Looking around, he spotted Vikki.
“Help me before they get to the door.”
Vikki struggled upright, shocked. In a daze she stepped over Renault’s body and took one of Koch’s arms. Grunting, they swung the dead pilot out of the seat and piled him next to Renault. Just as they finished, a head poked through the still open cargo door.
Harding motioned to the white barrels in the rear. He feigned pain. “Hurry — unload the weapons and get them aboard the aircraft.”
The man pulled himself up and widened his eyes at the bodies. Vikki recognized him as one of Renault’s South American recruits. He knelt beside Renault and whispered. “Colonel?”
“Renault is dead. We barely made it out … everybody else died. Now quickly, before we’re followed.”
The man crossed himself and stuck his head out the cargo door. He yelled in Spanish, and instantly three men appeared at the chopper door.
Harding spoke to the one in charge. “The girl and I will take care of the bodies.” The man grunted, and with the help of the other three started rolling the nuclear weapons out of the helicopter.
Harding and Vikki dragged the bodies out of the craft. Moving away from the C-130, they deposited them in the brush. Harding wiped his hands when they were finished. “Once we’re airborne they’ll never get the whole story. Fifteen minutes to load, and we’re heading for Baja.”
“What about Renault, Anthony? Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious he didn’t return alive — and we’re the only ones on the raid that did?”
Harding looked cold. “Just be thankful that you came back. But now I’m starting to wonder if it’s a good thing or not.” He turned for the C-130.
Vikki drew in a breath and started after him.
Chapter 22
Manny tore off his headset. “Have you spotted it yet?” For the past fifteen minutes he had been in communication over the secure link, speaking in a low voice so as not to disturb McGriffin.
McGriffin waited a full minute before answering. Two hundred feet below, jagged mountain peaks scraped the sky. Only the summits were visible in the scant starlight. Every so often a glint of light bore through the clouds and reflected off streams and small ponds of water in the valleys. Switching to the ANVIS-6 night-vision goggles, McGriffin strained, but still could not make out any sign of the helicopter.
He flipped up the goggles, rubbed his eyes, and looked to Manny. “Are you sure you corrected for wind?”
Manny nodded to the GPS readout. Corrected with differential GPS, it was accurate to within the gravitational uncertainties of the earth. Manny retorted, “I could fly us to within a foot of where we took off from. If your directions are accurate, we should be right on top of that clearing.”
“Sorry. Any other ideas? I know these coordinates are correct.”
“I’ll get you some more altitude. We can cover more area that way.” He shot a glance at the altimeter. “It’ll be touch and go, though. We’re already pushing this baby’s ceiling — I don’t want to go too much higher.”
McGriffin decided instantly. “Let’s do it.” He’d already made up his mind that any danger to themselves came second to recovering the nukes. If the terrorists were down there, the night-vision goggles would give them away — unless they were inside the stealth helicopter, but that was a chance he would have to take.
Manny pushed the chopper up, grabbing for altitude. The craft strained in the thin air. Slowly they crept higher, bringing more of the ground into sight.
As they rose, McGriffin flipped down the goggles and scanned the ground, methodically moving from north to south.
He was almost ready to have Manny move farther west when a smear of light broke across his sight. “Wait. Bring us back to the east.”
“Did you see anything?”
“I’m not sure. We’re a little high to tell for sure. It might have been a deer — hold it.” He held up a hand. “That’s it.”
“That’s what?”
McGriffin adjusted the night-vision goggles by changing the diopter, then refocused the low intensity picture. “There’s someone walking … make that four, no five, people. They’re moving toward something bright. I don’t have a positive on it, but I bet that’s an engine mounting I see.” He flipped up the infrared light amplifier. “How is Falcon Two doing?”
“He was loitering at twenty thousand, but he was sucking on fumes so he headed back. He had only enough fuel to get him back to Wendover.”
McGriffin unstrapped from the copilot’s seat and squeezed behind the seats. He surveyed his weapons: two pistols and a shotgun. Except for the flare guns — which were worthless anyway — things hadn’t changed. Great, I’m going to save the world, he thought, and don’t even have enough weapons to finish the job. Dear Lord, don’t let me screw up now.
Grunting, McGriffin pushed open the cargo door, jerking when it momentarily caught. A gale of wind whooshed through the helicopter. Lying on the deck, he flipped on the goggles and peered down.
The bodies moved in a slow line, hunched over, straining with something on the ground. They moved steadily in a group as if they were rolling something — the nukes? — then rushed back to where the helicopter lay and started all over again. McGriffin couldn’t make out the object they rolled the nukes to. He raised the gain and squinted.
A dark object slowly appeared in the screen, barely contrasting against the ground. A plane! The ground was slightly cooler than the aircraft, causing the ghostly infrared image to waver in the nightscope.
McGriffin refocused to infinity. Suddenly the bodies stood out in fine detail. One of them raised a hand and pointed upward, directly at the chopper. They heard us. Our blades must be giving us away. He straightened and slammed shut the cargo door. The wind died immediately.
He stepped up to the cockpit. “Manny, any more word?”
Manny shook his head, his lips held tight.
McGriffin took a last look down. “There’s a plane down there — they’re loading up the nukes, and worse, they’ve spotted us. They’re breaking out rifles or something. We’ve got to stop them.”
“Right. With what? Our bare hands?”
“If we have to.” McGriffin grasped the back of the seat. “Look, we’ve got to stall them, stop them from taking off until one of the other flights of fighters gets here. Get an ETA over the secure link.”